The Life of Jesus Critically Examined

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Title: The Life of Jesus Critically Examined - (4th ed.)
Author: Strauss, David Friedrich
Language: English
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EXAMINED ***

THE
LIFE OF JESUS
CRITICALLY EXAMINED

BY
DR. DAVID FRIEDRICH STRAUSS

Translated from the Fourth German Edition
By GEORGE ELIOT

FOURTH EDITION. IN ONE VOLUME.

London
SWAN SONNENSCHEIN & CO. Lim.
1902

INTRODUCTION TO THE PRESENT EDITION,

BY PROFESSOR OTTO PFLEIDERER, D.D.

The Leben Jesu of David Friedrich Strauss, which was published in the
year 1835, marked an epoch in the history of theology. On the one hand,
this book represents the crisis in theology at which the doubts and
critical objections of centuries as to the credibility of the Bible
narratives had accumulated in such overwhelming volume as to break
through and sweep away all the defences of orthodox apologetics. On the
other hand, in the very completeness of the destructive criticism of
past tradition lay the germs of a new science of constructive critical
inquiry, the work of which was to bring to light the truth of history.
It is quite true that the Life of Jesus of 1835 was far from perfect,
as judged by the present standard of scientific criticism, and Biblical
science has long since advanced beyond it. Nevertheless, it cannot be
disputed that it takes rank amongst the standard works which are secure
of a permanent place in literature for all time, for the reason that
they give final expression to the spirit of their age, and represent
typically one of its characteristic tendencies. The liberating and
purifying influence which such works exert on their own time, as well
as the service they render in opening out new lines of thought, lends
to them, for all coming generations, a peculiar value as admirable
weapons in the great fight for truth and freedom. Indeed, if our
scientists are to be believed, when they tell us that the development
of the individual is only an abbreviated repetition of the similar but
much slower phases of the development of the species, it is hardly too
much to maintain, that in the present and in the future every
individual who determines to make his way from the bondage of a naïve
trust in authority and tradition into the freedom and light of mature
thought must pass through precisely that stage of thorough-going
logical negative criticism which is represented by Strauss’s work in a
unique manner. As, according to Christian ethics, the formation of a
pure moral character is possible only by the death of the old Adam, the
rise of true religious convictions is by a similar Stirb und werde, die
and come to life. The imaginary lights of mythological tradition must
be put out, that the eye may distinguish the false from the true in the
twilight of the Biblical origins of our religion. The ancient
structures of belief, which the childish fancy of men had constructed
of truth and poetry, Wahrheit und Dichtung, must be taken down and
cleared away, in order that a new erection of more durable materials
may be raised. To all earnest seekers after truth, the Leben Jesu of
Strauss may be helpful, not as supplying the truth ready to hand, but
as stripping the bandages of prejudice from the eyes, and so enabling
them clearly to see and rightly to seek it.

For these reasons it is obvious that the publication of a new edition
of the English translation of this work needs no justification. It is
only those who consider the first appearance of the book inexcusable
and unfortunate that can call in question the desirability of its
republication. But no one can hold such an opinion who is able to
follow the course of the history of the religious thought of
Protestantism. The critical process which reached its conclusion in
Strauss’s book, with its negative or revolutionary results, was latent
from the beginning in the life-blood of Protestantism. The theologians
of the Reformed Churches of the sixteenth century subjected the
traditions of Catholic Church history to keen historical criticism; and
if they did not then think of extending its operations to Biblical
tradition, we are justified in recognising in the well-known
declarations of Luther, as to the inferior value of certain books of
the Bible, and as to the unimportance of physical in comparison with
spiritual miracles, plain predictions of the line of development which
Protestant theology was destined ultimately to take.

It is intelligible enough that the criticism of the Bible could not
arise amongst the orthodox theologians of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. They were restrained by a rigid doctrine of inspiration from
an unprejudiced treatment of the Bible, and were moreover too much
absorbed in dogmatic controversies and the defence of their confessions
of faith, to feel the need of more searching Biblical studies. It was
amongst English Free-thinkers and Deists that the credibility of the
Biblical narratives was first seriously assailed, and with so much
temper as to greatly detract from the scientific value of the result.
Thomas Woolston’s Discourses on the Miracles of our Saviour (six in
number, 1727–1729) are specially noteworthy. They attack the literal
interpretation of the miracles as ludicrous and offensive, and advocate
the allegorical interpretation of them as figures and parables of
spiritual truths. It is possible to find in Woolston’s theory an
anticipation of the mythical principle of interpretation which Strauss
opposes to the rationalistic one. Reimarus, the author of the
Wolfenbüttel Fragments, by the publication of which Lessing threw
German theology into a ferment, occupies the same position as the
English Deists, and indeed owed much to their influence. But at the
same time a noteworthy difference is observable from the very first
between the way in which Lessing treated these questions and their
treatment by the earlier Free-thinkers; and the difference is
characteristic of the two schools. German rationalism bears the marks
of its origin in the idealistic optimism of the philosophy of Leibnitz
and Wolff, and remains in sympathy with the ethical spirit of Biblical
religion; whilst the but faintly religious naturalism of the English
Deists leads them, with their rejection of the Biblical miracles, to
attack the religion of the Bible, and drag down into the mire its
representatives and heroes. With this the German Rationalists have no
sympathy. They were unable to treat the Biblical narratives of miracles
as historical occurrences, but they were not prepared on that account
to regard them as deceit and delusion on the part of Biblical heroes,
or as the invention of Biblical narrators: their reverence for the
Bible and its religion kept them from both of these inferences. They
tried to get over the difficulty in two ways,—either they looked upon
the narratives of miracles, particularly those of the Old Testament, as
popular religious legends, traditions, or “myths,” of the same kind as
the myths to be met with in all heathen religions; or, on the other
hand, regarding them as containing the actual history of perfectly
natural events, they ascribed the miraculous appearance and form which
they bear simply to the mistaken judgment of the narrators, or, in
other cases, to the erroneous view of the interpreters. The latter
method was employed especially by Dr. Paulus in his commentary on the
Gospels, in which he seeks, with a great display of learning and
ingenuity, to explain all the miracles of the New Testament. The
theologian Schleiermacher also made frequent use of it in his Lectures
on the Life of Jesus; and traces of it are to be met with even in the
commentaries of theologians of the supernaturalist school—as, for
instance, Olshausen’s. The inexcusable violence which was thereby done
to the Biblical narratives, by which they are forced to say something
quite different from what the unsophisticated narrators intended them
to say, according to the plain sense of their words, was not felt; nor
were these interpreters conscious of how much the Gospels are deprived
of their choicest treasures of ideal truth and poetic beauty by this
method of treatment, and this only for the sake of securing instead
miserable common-place stories as the final outcome of critical
examination.

The favour with which this radically false rationalistic interpretation
of the Gospels was received by very many German theologians at the
beginning of this century finds its sole explanation and excuse in the
prevailing view of the time—that our Gospels were written very soon
after the death of Jesus, during the first generation of Christians,
and two of them by eye-witnesses—the apostles Matthew and John. On this
supposition, the occurrence in the Gospels of unhistorical elements, of
religious legends, such as might be without hesitation allowed in the
Old Testament, could not be thought of. Or if the admissibility of this
point of view was granted in the case of the birth-stories of the
opening chapters of Matthew and Luke (as by De Wette), objection was
felt against its application to the miracles of the public life of
Jesus. Thus, on the question of the historicity of the gospel
narratives, theologians held views which were confused, undecided,
contradictory, and lacking thoroughness. This state of things could not
last; simple faith had at every point lost its security; doubt attached
to the miraculous narratives of the New no less than to those of the
Old Testament. But before Strauss no one had had the courage to explain
all these narratives of both Testaments alike by the logical
application of one and the same principle; and mainly for the reason,
that the critics were all under the bondage of the supposition of the
apostolic authorship of the Gospels of Matthew and John. Yet even this
supposition had received various shocks prior to Strauss. Critics had
been unable to close their eyes to the fact that there are differences
between these two Gospels particularly, of such a fundamental nature as
to preclude the possibility of both being right, and therefore of both
having been written by eye-witnesses and apostles. Under the influence
of dogmatic and sentimental motives, Schleiermacher and his disciples
accepted it as an a priori certainty that John is to be preferred to
Matthew; and from this secure position, as was imagined, these
theologians assailed the narrative of Matthew at all points, and
undermined the tradition of its apostolic authority. But suppose the
same arguments with which they assailed Matthew might be used against
their favourite evangelist John? What if it could be shown that his
narrative is in no respect more probable, but, on the contrary, more
improbable, than that of Matthew? In that case, must not the critical
verdict which those theologians had given against Matthew so
triumphantly and without regard to its consequences, apply equally to
John, and thereby overthrow the only remaining pillar of apostolic
authority for the gospel tradition?

This logical consequence, which was at the time deemed an unheard-of
innovation, notwithstanding the opinions of a few individual critics
(Vogel, Bretschneider), Strauss had the courage to draw. By that act he
cast off the fetters by which the examination of the Gospels had till
then been bound, and secured a free field for a thorough-going
criticism of them. Since the external evidence of the authorship of the
Gospels is not of a kind or a date such as to compel us to consider the
tradition of their apostolic origin established, and as the matter of
all the Gospels alike is not free from historical improbability, there
is nothing, Strauss argued, to prevent our complete abandonment of the
historicity of their miraculous narratives, though the Rationalists
continue to maintain it, or our treating them as religious legends or
myths, similar to those which, as was admitted, the Old Testament
contained. The novelty in the work of Strauss was not the application
of the principle of “myth” to Biblical narratives; others had already
made use of it in the case of the Old and to some extent in the case of
the New Testament; the originality lay in the uncompromising
thoroughness with which the principle was applied to every section of
the gospel story; the originality lay in the merciless acumen and
clearness with which the discrepancies between the Gospels and the
difficulties presented to the critical understanding by their
narratives were laid bare, and with which all the subterfuges of
supernaturalist apologists, as well as all the forced and artificial
interpretations of semi-critical Rationalists, were exposed, thereby
cutting off all ways of escape from the final consequences of
criticism.

The merciless thoroughness and unreserved honesty with which criticism
did its negative work in this book, by exposing the baselessness of the
supposed knowledge of the gospel history, produced a profound shock
amongst theologians and laymen. It was not merely the untaught
multitude who believed that the foundations of Christianity must perish
with the miraculous stories of the Bible; learned theologians were
distressed as the daring critic so rudely, and without any regard to
consequences, roused them from the illusions of their sentimental or
speculative dogmatism and their precipitate treaty of peace between
faith and knowledge. “Strauss was hated,” as Baur truly said, “because
the spirit of the time was unable to look upon its own portrait, which
he held up before it in faithful, clearly drawn lines. The spirit of
this age resists with all its power the proof of its ignorance on a
matter about which it has long thought itself certain. Instead of
acknowledging what had to be acknowledged, if any progress was to be
made, all possible attempts were instituted to create fresh illusions
as to the true state of the case, by reviving obsolete hypotheses and
by theological charlatanism. But a higher certainty as to the truth of
the gospel history can be attained in no other way than by
acknowledging, on the basis of Strauss’s criticism, that our previous
knowledge is no knowledge at all.” But here we come upon the limits of
the criticism of Strauss: it brought home to men the fact of their want
of knowledge, but it did not conduct to the required new and positive
knowledge. This Strauss was unable to do, because he offered a critique
of the gospel history only, without a critique of the documents which
form the sources of this history.

In these words Baur has accurately described the main defect of
Strauss’s book. When Strauss drew from the discrepancies and
contradictions of the various narratives of the Gospels the conclusion
that they have all alike little credibility, the conclusion was
intelligible enough in reply to the ingenious artifices of the
traditional harmonists, who maintained that in spite of the
contradictions the evangelists were all alike worthy of credit; but
really this line of procedure on the part of Strauss conformed as
little as that of the harmonists to the principles of strict historical
inquiry. These principles require us to examine the relative value of
the various sources with reference to their age, to the situation, the
character, the interests, and aims of their author; to assign
accordingly to one account a higher measure of credibility than to
another; and so, by distinguishing between what is better and what is
not so well attested, to make out what is probable and reach the
original matter of fact. It is true Strauss made some advance towards
such a differentiation of the relative value of the gospel narratives;
and particularly with reference to the inferior historical value of the
Johannine in comparison with the Synoptic narrative, he has made acute
observations, the worth of which ought to be estimated the higher as
they boldly opposed the then dominant preference for the Gospel of
John, and effectively prepared the way for the criticism of Baur. But
it was not Strauss’s forte to prepare, as the foundation of the
material critique of the gospel history, a thorough critique of the
literary sources, nor, in the state of the general science of criticism
at the time, could this be very well expected. When all deductions have
been made, to Strauss belongs the honour of having given, by his
criticism of the gospel narratives, the most effective impulse to a
more penetrating examination of the sources of the gospel story, and of
having prepared the way for this to no small extent, particularly as
regards the Fourth Gospel. Baur’s classical critique of this Gospel
completed in this direction the criticism of Strauss, and laid its
foundations deeper. As regards the Synoptic Gospels, Weisse and Ewald,
Holtzmann and Volkmar, did good work towards clearing up the relations
of the Gospels to each other, especially in establishing the priority
of Mark, by which a firmer basis was laid for the positive decision of
the question as to the historical foundations of the gospel tradition.
The fruit of this critique of the sources, carried on from various
sides with painstaking industry, was the new literature dealing with
the life of Jesus, which, just a generation after the first Leben Jesu
of Strauss, took up again the problems it had raised, but in a new
fashion, and with improved critical apparatus. We shall have further on
to refer to Strauss’s new life of Jesus.

The same scholar, Weisse, who was the first to point out the want in
Strauss’s book of a more satisfactory critique of the sources, and who
had sought to supply this defect in his Evangelische Geschichte (1838),
called attention at the same time to a defect in the mythical theory of
Strauss. Weisse was fully agreed with Strauss so far, that we must
acknowledge the presence of religious myths in miraculous narratives of
the Bible, but he was not satisfied with the way in which Strauss had
explained their origin. According to Strauss, the early Christians had
simply transferred to Jesus as the actual Messiah the miraculous
legends of the Old Testament, out of which the Jews were supposed to
have composed the miraculous portrait of their expected Messiah; and he
was right in thinking that the miraculous stories of the Old Testament
do undoubtedly supply the motives and models of no few narratives in
the New Testament, but not, surely, of all. Precisely the chief
miracles—the birth of Jesus, his baptism, transfiguration,
resurrection, the change of water into wine at Cana, the stilling of
the storm, and walking on the sea—violence must be used to explain
these miracles by reference to Old Testament types, and the Jewish idea
of the Messiah offers no lines corresponding to these. At this point
therefore, at all events, we must look about us for another method of
explanation. And Weisse was undoubtedly right in pointing to the
spontaneous productivity of the Christian spirit in the primitive
Church as the source of the miraculous narratives, in which it gave
expression in symbolic and allegorical forms to its ideal truth and the
new inspired life of which it was conscious. Not that these narratives
were intended by the narrators themselves to be merely allegories, or
symbolical illustrations of spiritual truths; but the religious
imagination gave birth to these illustrations after the manner of
unconscious poetry, that is, without distinguishing between the poetic
form and the essential truth of the idea; believing, as the religious
imagination did, in the ideal content of the narratives, and being at
the same time unable to give vivid and sensible expression to it in any
other than the material form of outward miracles, it involuntarily came
to believe also in the reality of the symbolical form of the narrative
to which it had itself given rise; it conceived idea and history both
together in such inseparable combination as to confer on each equal
truth and certainty.

In the production of such ideal narratives the same process is
observable to-day in the experience of simple religious believers:
feeling the ideal truth of the content of the stories, they come to
believe also in the reality of the outward history in which the idea
has for them been incorporated. But the critical understanding of the
historical inquirer is permitted, and indeed is bound, to distinguish
clearly and definitely, as the simple-minded believer cannot do,
between the spiritual idea and the outward form of its representation,
and to find in the former both the productive power and the permanent
kernel within the outward husk. This explanation of the miraculous
legends of the Bible is not only more correct and profound than
Strauss’s from the point of view of historical science, but for the
religious consciousness it is far less objectionable, as Weisse
observes with truth; inasmuch as in this case the legends do not appear
as the worthless product of the idle play of the imagination, but as
the normal expression, rationally and psychologically intelligible, of
a creative religious spirit, which displays its treasures of ideal
truth in this legendary and mythical poetry for the benefit of the
originators and the wider world. Nor should it be left unnoticed that
Strauss himself had already indicated in a few cases this more profound
explanation of myths by means of the religious idea. At the close of
his interpretation of the story of the Transfiguration (§ 107), for
instance, he says, we may see from this example very plainly how the
natural system of explanation, by insisting on the historical certainty
of the narratives, lets go their ideal truth, sacrificing the content
to the form of the story, whereas the mythical interpretation, by
resigning the historical material body of such narratives, really
rescues and preserves their idea, their soul and spirit. He might,
however, have unfolded the idea of the Transfiguration with greater
definiteness and fulness if he had not merely alluded to the dogmatic
discussion of Paul in 2 Cor. iii. 7 sq., but had recognised it as the
real theme of the gospel story, and had interpreted the latter
accordingly. In the same way, in the case of the story of the birth of
Jesus (Luke i. and ii.), Strauss laid great emphasis on the analogies
and figures of the Old Testament, which, after all, could only
contribute as secondary motives in the formation of this birth-story,
while its real origin is to be sought in the Pauline Messianic idea of
“the Son of God, according to the spirit of holiness” (Rom. i. 4; 1
Cor. xv. 45 sq.), a fact Strauss overlooked. This defect takes a really
surprising form when he comes to explain the miracles of the Fourth
Gospel, which, in complete independence of any suggestion from the Old
Testament, are entirely based upon the dogmatic ideas of the
Alexandrian theology, and simply supply their transparent symbolic
vestment. How much more truthfully and profoundly can the miracle at
Cana, or the raising of Lazarus, or the cure of the man born blind, be
interpreted from this point of view than from that of Strauss! In this
respect Baur’s interpretation of the Fourth Gospel was an immense
advance beyond Strauss, as the latter himself acknowledged
subsequently.

With the above defects of Strauss’s method of interpretation is
connected, in the last place, the fact that the outcome of his book in
reference to the decisive question,—What, then, is the historical
kernel of the evangelical tradition, what the real character of Jesus
and of his work?—is meagre and unsatisfactory. In the closing essay at
the end of his work, it is true, he endeavoured to restore dogmatically
what he had destroyed critically, but he effected this in a way which
amounted to the transformation of religious faith in Christ into a
metaphysical allegory. The predications of faith with regard to Christ
are to be regarded as containing predications as to the relations of
the human race to the Absolute, as to the self-abasement of the
Infinite to the Finite, and the return of the Infinite to itself, as to
mind and its power over nature, and its dependence on it, and the like.
In all this Strauss was led astray by the influence of the Hegelian
philosophy, which looked for the truth of religion in logical and
metaphysical categories instead of in the facts and experiences of
moral feeling and volition. But as there is no essential relation
between these metaphysical ideas and the person of Jesus, he is made
arbitrarily, as any one else might have been, an illustration and
example of absolute ideas to which he stands in no more intimate
relation than the rest of the human race; whereby the special
historical importance of the originator of the Christian community, and
of the first model of its religious and moral life, is not only left
without explanation, but is lost altogether, a result which does
violence not merely to the religious consciousness, but is
unsatisfactory to historical science, which is concerned to understand
Jesus as the originating source of Christianity. It is quite true that
we can go with Strauss in his answer to the alternative of Ullmann
whether the church created the Christ of the Gospels or he the church,
by declaring the alternative false, and the two things in so far both
tenable as the Christ of the Gospels is a creation of the faith of the
church, but this faith an effect of the person of the historical Jesus.
We find this answer to Ullmann just, but cannot free Strauss from the
charge of having worked out in his book the first only of these two
positions, and of having passed over the second. He has shown no more
than that the church formed the mythical traditions about Jesus out of
its faith in him as the Messiah. But how did the church come by the
faith that Jesus of Nazareth was the Messiah? To this question—which is
the main question of a Life of Jesus—Strauss gave his readers no
answer. Undoubtedly it can be urged in his defence that the criticism
of the sources was at that time still in a condition of too great
confusion and uncertainty to permit any successful answer to that
problem of the historical kernel of the life of Jesus. Nevertheless the
difficulty of the matter could not relieve the historian of the duty of
at least making an attempt to trace from the materials left to him, as
the residue of his critical analysis of the deeds and words of Jesus,
the main outlines of his character, to bring out the peculiarity and
originality of his religious genius, and in this way to discover in the
original personality and reforming activity of Jesus the originating
cause of the rise of the community of his disciples and their faith in
him as the Messiah and his divine mission. If in his closing essay
Strauss had presented a religious and moral description of Jesus of
this nature, instead of a metaphysical allegory as a substitute for the
shattered mythological conception of tradition, though the objection of
the church to his work would not have been wanting, it would then
undoubtedly have taken a less passionately denunciatory form than was
the case, in consequence of the purely negative character of the
result, unrelieved by any modifying conclusion.

In proportion to the strength of the feeling of these defects, shared
by readers of all parties, was the urgency of the duty laid upon
scientific theologians of preparing, by a renewed and more thorough
examination of the Gospels, the stones of a new edifice to be reared
upon the site laid bare by Strauss’s critical labours. “In the darkness
which criticism produces, by putting out all the lights hitherto
thought to be historical, the eye has first to learn by gradual habit
to again distinguish a few single objects,” as Strauss himself remarked
in his third edition. But this difficult task was not accomplished by
those apologists who endeavoured to make good the damage by the
antiquated arts of the harmonists, with their petty concessions,
mystifications, and evasions, but by those courageous inquirers who,
undeterred by dogmatic considerations, sought by a strictly historical
method to set in the true light the exact composition and the mutual
relations of the evangelical documents. We have already remarked that
Baur and his disciples, the so-called Tübingen school, took a leading
part in this work, while other independent students co-operated with
them, supplementing and correcting their labours. This, however, is not
the place to follow these inquiries in detail; but we must glance at
their result as regards the historical treatment of the life of Jesus.

For an entire generation the examination of the literary details of the
Gospels had occupied theologians so exclusively that the interest in
the supreme problems of the evangelical history seemed to have been
almost lost sight of. But this interest was newly awakened, and made
itself felt far beyond learned theological circles, by the nearly
simultaneous publication of Renan’s Vie de Jésus and Strauss’s second
Leben Jesu für das deutsche Volk (1864). These two works, with all
their dissimilarity, resemble each other in this, that they were both
written by scholars of the highest eminence, not for the learned world,
but for educated people generally, both throwing overboard, therefore,
the ballast of learned detailed criticism, and presenting the results
of their inquiries in a language intelligible to everybody, and
attractive from its literary excellence. They are alike also in this,
that both subordinate the criticism of the gospel traditions to a
positive description of the personality of Jesus, of his essential
religious tendency and genius, of his relation to the Messianic idea of
his nation, to the law and the temple, to the hierarchy and religious
and political parties of his time, both seeking an explanation of the
reformatory success of the commencement, and also of the tragical issue
of his labours in these factors. But inasmuch as Strauss confines
himself to what he can deem the ascertained or probable facts, after a
strict critique of the sources, the portrait delineated by him turns
out naturally somewhat indistinct and defective in its outlines; the
meagreness of the result answers to the caution of his historical
conscience. Renan, on the other hand, feels no such scruples; in his
criticism of the sources he goes to work with a much lighter heart, and
claims for the biographer the right to help himself over the lacunæ and
obscurities or contradictions of his authorities by calling in the aid
of the creative imagination, with its powers of combination and
inference. By this means he has succeeded in presenting a life of Jesus
distinguished for its epic vividness and dramatic development, but its
æsthetic charm has been purchased at the price of its historical
solidity. This novelistic feature becomes most questionable when it
wanders into the vagaries of the naturalistic explanation of the
miracles (e.g. the raising of Lazarus), and in such cases casts
reflections on the moral character of Jesus. On the other hand, for
Renan must be claimed the merit of having emphasised the social aspects
of the Messianic mission of Jesus, and of having attempted to sketch
the development of his inner life, a change in the phases of his
reformatory labours. As to Strauss’s second Life of Jesus, its strength
lies, as in the first, not so much in the first part, which deals with
the positive side of the history, as in the second part, where it comes
to treat of the mythical side of the history. But in the second work,
in the place of the analysis of the traditions given in the first, we
get a synthetic presentation of the rise and gradual growth and
elaboration, in more and more exalted forms, of the idea of the Christ
of mythical tradition; the successive stages of the development of the
Christian consciousness are set forth by reference to the genesis of
the ideas of Christ’s person, power, and supernatural exaltation. Thus
this genetic method of treatment, followed in the later work, supplants
and confirms the result of the former one; while the latter had shown
that the miraculous narratives in the Gospels are myth and not history,
the new Life shows how in these myths, after all, history is reflected,
namely, the history of the religious consciousness of the Christian
community. The great advance of this new treatment upon that of the
previous work was the fruit of the intervening studies of Baur and his
disciples, to which Renan, to the detriment of the critical and
historical value of his work, had not paid sufficient attention.

The two works of Renan and Strauss were followed by a deluge of
literature on the life of Jesus, the historical value of which is very
various. To give an account of all these books would require more space
than is at my disposal. I must confine myself to the work of Theodor
Keim, an English translation of which has been published under the
“Theological Translation Fund.” The work is so distinguished by the
richness of its learned material, and the ability with which it is
handled, as to constitute it the best representation of the present
condition of our knowledge of the life of Jesus. Keim’s standpoint
differs from that of Strauss by the warmth of religious feeling and
enthusiasm which pervades his entire work, while at the same time no
fetters are laid upon the critical reason; freedom and piety join
hands, in order to be just to the double claim which the truth of
history on the one hand, and the church on the other, are justified in
presenting. The most brilliant part of Keim’s work is his delineation
of the religious personality of Jesus,—how in it were combined, in a
unique degree, strength and harmony, complete openness towards the
world, with perfect inwardness towards God, so as to become the source
of a new religion, in which self-surrender and liberty, humility and
energy, enthusiasm and lucidity, are blended, and the chasm of previous
ages between God and man filled up. His description of the
psychological development of the Messianic consciousness of Jesus out
of inward experiences and outward impressions and impulses, is also
drawn with great delicacy of touch; at all events, it is an able and
suggestive effort to penetrate, as far as the state of the sources
admits, by means of sympathetic and reproductive divination, to the
personal experiences and mental states of the religious genius from
whom a new epoch in the world’s religious history proceeded. Still, as
in the kindred efforts of Renan, Weizsäcker, Beyschlag and Weiss, we
may never forget how much, with the poverty of the ascertained
historical materials, is left to the uncontrolled power of combination
and divination; in other words, to the imagination, which at best can
do no more than roughly and approximately arrive at the truth, while it
may no less easily go far astray. It is certainly to be deemed an
advance that in the more recent works on the life of Jesus the subject
of main interest is not so much the external miracles as the internal,
the problems of the peculiar nature and development of his religious
consciousness and character, his view of his vocation, his attitude
towards the Messianic idea, and the like. Yet this advance is
manifestly attended by the temptation to sacrifice the caution of
historical criticism to the production of a biography as rich in detail
and as dramatic in movement as possible, and to represent things as the
ascertained results of critical examination, which are really nothing
more than subjective combinations of the writers, to which a certain
degree of probability may be attached, though the possibility will
always remain, that the actual facts were something quite different.
The subtle examination of the question, whether Jesus himself ever
declared himself to be the Messiah, or spoke of his return in celestial
glory, by Martineau, in his Seat of Authority in Religion, is in this
respect deserving of all attention, and is of great value, as at least
supplying a needed lesson in caution in view of the excessive
confidence with which questions such as these have been treated by
Renan, Keim, and later writers. In any case, the reserve and caution of
Strauss are quite justified as a corrective and counterpoise to the
extravagances committed in the opposite direction.

With regard to the miraculous narratives of the Gospels, the advance of
more recent criticism beyond the first book of Strauss has been in two
directions. First, these questions no longer constitute the central
point of historical interest, but are subordinated in importance to the
problems of the religious consciousness of Jesus. Secondly, we do not
now seek to interpret these narratives so exclusively and without
distinction from the one motive of the transference to Jesus of the
types of the Old Testament; but the great difference between the
various narratives of miracles is clearly recognised, and various clues
are accordingly used in their explanation; whilst in one narrative we
observe merely symbols of religious and dogmatic ideas, in others we
discover, behind the glorifying tendency to idealism, some background
of historical fact, for instance, in the miracles of healing, as is now
very generally acknowledged. It cannot be denied, it is true, that with
this perfectly legitimate endeavour is connected the peril of falling
back into the old abuses of rationalistic artifice. Even Keim has not
quite escaped this danger, inasmuch as he abandons the basis of strict
history in the case of the story of the resurrection of Jesus, and
makes concessions to supernaturalistic dogma; as the sequel of which
the old doctrine of miracles may be readmitted into Lives of Jesus, as
is really the case in the works of Beyschlag and Weiss.

In this danger appears the necessity for the continued prosecution of
the negative work of criticism, a duty as yet by no means
supererogatory. The inclination to sink into the slumber of dogma is so
natural to every generation that the most uncompromising critical
intellect must without intermission stand upon the watch against it.
And as this task was performed by Strauss in his first Life of Jesus in
a manner that may serve as a model for all time, the book, like every
truly classical work, must ever retain its value. Strauss’s criticism
broke down the ramparts of dogmatism, new and old, and opened to the
inquiring mind the breach through which the conquest of historical
truth might be won.

Otto Pfleiderer.

Certior factus ex Britannia, librum meum, quem de vita Jesu XI abhinc
annis composui, virorum ejusmodi studiis faventium cura in linguam
Britannicam translatum, brevi illic in publicum proditurum esse,
lælitia anxietate temperata commoveor.

Nam ut gratulari sibi æquum est auctorem, cujus operi contigit, patriæ
terræ ac linguæ fines transgredi, ita sollicitudo eundem subeat necesse
est, ne, qui domi placuit liber, foris displiceat, aut cujus inter
populares vel adversariorum numero creverat auctoritas, apud exteros
neglectus in obscuro maneat. Solum enim cœlumque vix minore libri quam
plantæ periculo mutant. Et facilius quidem transtuleris opera in illis
rebus versantia, de quibus inter diversas gentes communis quidam aut
certe parum discrepans sensus obtinet: ut, quæ poetæ aut disciplinarum
quas exactas dicunt periti proferunt, inter politiores hujus seculi
nationes fere solent esse communia. Neque tamen vel hoc in librorum
genere plane æquum Germano cum Britannis aut Gallis certamen. Peregrina
enim cum facilius nostra quam illorum et lingua et indoles recipiat,
longe frequentius poetæ quoque illorum in nostram quam nostri in
illorum linguas transferuntur. At Germanicum opus in theologiæ et
philosophiæ quasi confinio versans, si trajicere in Britanniam parat,
ne illa quidem inter utramque gentem sensus et studiorum communione
adjuvatur. Tam diversa enim utrimque via istæ disciplinæ processerunt,
ut in theologia impii, in philosophia superstitiosi Britannis Germani
iidem videamur. Cum iis, qui in Britannia ausi sunt, historias,
Judæorum et Christianorum religione sacratas, examini ut ajunt critico
subjicere, nihil agendum esset, nisi ut Lockii sui atque Humii
principia philosophica, sicut ad reliquas omnes historias, ita ad illas
etiam, quas legibus istis hucusque superstitio subtraxerat, adhiberent:
in Germania ad hoc monstri res degeneraverat, ut superstitioni a
theologorum potissima parte derelictæ philosophia succurreret, critico
ergo non simplex sanæ philosophiæ contra theologorum superstitionem,
sed duplex et contra philosophorum ex sanioribus principiis deductas
ineptas conclusiones, et contra theologorum propter philosophica ista
auxilia ornamentaque inflatam atque induratam superstitionem, certamen
ineundum esset. Ex hoc rei statu proprie Germanico natum opus meum,
nominibus insuper atque opinionibus theologorum ac philosophorum
nostratium refertum, nec scholarum etiam vocabula, quibus nostræ tantum
aures assuevere, satis evitans, a Britannorum usu ingenioque non posse
non abhorrere, tam probe scio, ut de translato in eorum linguam, licet
interpretatio, quantum quidem ejus inspicere potuerim, et accurata et
perspicua sit et librum, quantum in ipsa est, popularibus commendet,
num gaudendum mihi magnopere sit, mehercule nesciam.

Accedit, quod a primo libri mei ortu duo lustra, et a recentissima
etiam editione unum jam lustrum intercessit. Ut tum, quum opus
inchoabam, via incedebam, quam pauci ingressi, totam emensus nemo erat,
ita per primum illud lustrum nullæ fere nisi adversariorum voces
audiebantur, principia mea negantium et historiam in Evangeliis vel
meram, vel levissima tantum erroris rumorisve adspersione tinctam
contineri affirmantium, cum quibus non modo non disputandum, sed a
quibus ne discendum quidem quidquam erat, quod ad rem et ad librum vere
emendandum pertineret. Proximo demum lustro viri vestigia mea non
refugientes neque evitantes, sed persequentes, ubi ego substiteram
longius progressi, rem revera juverunt atque promoverunt. Narrationes
in Evangeliis traditas, quas rerum vere gestarum esse persuadere mihi
non potueram, mythorum in modum, qui inter antiquas gentes inveniuntur,
aut in ore populi a minutis initiis coaluisse et eundo crevisse, aut a
singulis, sed qui vere ita evenisse superstitiose in animum induxerant,
fictas esse existimaveram. Quod ut sufficit explicandis plerisque
eorum, quæ dubitationem moventia tribus prioribus Evangeliis
continentur: ita quarti Evangelii auctorem ad tuendas et illustrandas
sententias suas haud raro meras fabulas scientem confinxisse, a Baurio,
theologo Tubingensi doctissimo, nuper ita demonstratum est, ut critici
me judicii rigori religiosius quam verius temperasse intelligam. Dumque
prima a Christo secula accuratius perscrutantur, partes partiumque
certamina, quibus nova ecclesia commovebatur, in apricum proferunt,
narrationum haud paucarum, quas fabulas esse ego bene quidem
perspexeram, sed unde ortæ essent demonstrare non valueram, veram in
illis primæ ecclesiæ motibus originem detegere theologis Tubingensibus
contigit.

Imperfectum igitur opus meum, ut solent rerum initia, non ob hoc tamen,
quod sententiæ deest, timerem, ne a Britannis sperneretur, nisi formæ
etiam illud quod supra dixi peregrinum atque inusitatum accederet. Qui
si suum Hennellium non audiverunt, de iisdem rebus cum Britannis
Britannice agentem, quomodo audient, si quis Germanus surget, cujus
liber cum sua lingua non potuerit cogitandi quoque disputandique morem
prorsus Germanicum exuere? Sed absit omen verbis meis, atque ut pridem
in Germania, ita mox in Britannia jaceat liber hic εἰς πτῶσιν καὶ
ἀνάστασιν πολλῶν καὶ εἰς σημεῖον ἀντιλεγόμενον ὂπως ἂν ἀποκαλυφθῶσιν ἐκ
πολλῶν καρδιῶν διαλογισμοί.

STRAUSS.

Scribebam Heilbronnæ. Med. mens. April a. 1846.

PREFACE TO THE FIRST GERMAN EDITION.

It appeared to the author of the work, the first half of which is
herewith submitted to the public, that it was time to substitute a new
mode of considering the life of Jesus, in the place of the antiquated
systems of supranaturalism and naturalism. This application of the term
antiquated will in the present day be more readily admitted in relation
to the latter system than to the former. For while the interest excited
by the explanations of the miracles and the conjectural facts of the
rationalists has long ago cooled, the commentaries now most read are
those which aim to adapt the supernatural interpretation of the sacred
history to modern taste. Nevertheless, in point of fact, the orthodox
view of this history became superannuated earlier than the
rationalistic, since it was only because the former had ceased to
satisfy an advanced state of culture, that the latter was developed,
while the recent attempts to recover, by the aid of a mystical
philosophy, the supernatural point of view held by our forefathers,
betray themselves, by the exaggerating spirit in which they are
conceived, to be final, desperate efforts to render the past present,
the inconceivable conceivable.

The new point of view, which must take the place of the above, is the
mythical. This theory is not brought to bear on the evangelical history
for the first time in the present work: it has long been applied to
particular parts of that history, and is here only extended to its
entire tenor. It is not by any means meant that the whole history of
Jesus is to be represented as mythical, but only that every part of it
is to be subjected to a critical examination, to ascertain whether it
have not some admixture of the mythical. The exegesis of the ancient
church set out from the double presupposition: first, that the gospels
contained a history, and secondly, that this history was a supernatural
one. Rationalism rejected the latter of these presuppositions, but only
to cling the more tenaciously to the former, maintaining that these
books present unadulterated, though only natural, history. Science
cannot rest satisfied with this half-measure: the other presupposition
also must be relinquished, and the inquiry must first be made whether
in fact, and to what extent, the ground on which we stand in the
gospels is historical. This is the natural course of things, and thus
far the appearance of a work like the present is not only justifiable,
but even necessary.

It is certainly not therefore evident that the author is precisely the
individual whose vocation it is to appear in this position. He has a
very vivid consciousness that many others would have been able to
execute such a work with incomparably superior erudition. Yet on the
other hand he believes himself to be at least possessed of one
qualification which especially fitted him to undertake this task. The
majority of the most learned and acute theologians of the present day
fail in the main requirement for such a work, a requirement without
which no amount of learning will suffice to achieve anything in the
domain of criticism—namely, the internal liberation of the feelings and
intellect from certain religious and dogmatical presuppositions; and
this the author early attained by means of philosophical studies. If
theologians regard this absence of presupposition from his work, as
unchristian: he regards the believing presuppositions of theirs as
unscientific. Widely as in this respect the tone of the present work
may be contrasted with the edifying devoutness and enthusiastic
mysticism of recent books on similar subjects; still it will nowhere
depart from the seriousness of science, or sink into frivolity; and it
seems a just demand in return, that the judgments which are passed upon
it should also confine themselves to the domain of science, and keep
aloof from bigotry and fanaticism.

The author is aware that the essence of the Christian faith is
perfectly independent of his criticism. The supernatural birth of
Christ, his miracles, his resurrection and ascension, remain eternal
truths, whatever doubts may be cast on their reality as historical
facts. The certainty of this can alone give calmness and dignity to our
criticism, and distinguish it from the naturalistic criticism of the
last century, the design of which was, with the historical fact, to
subvert also the religious truth, and which thus necessarily became
frivolous. A dissertation at the close of the work will show that the
dogmatic significance of the life of Jesus remains inviolate: in the
meantime let the calmness and insensibility with which, in the course
of it, criticism undertakes apparently dangerous operations, be
explained solely by the security of the author’s conviction that no
injury is threatened to the Christian faith. Investigations of this
kind may, however, inflict a wound on the faith of individuals. Should
this be the case with theologians, they have in their science the means
of healing such wounds, from which, if they would not remain behind the
development of their age, they cannot possibly be exempt. For the laity
the subject is certainly not adequately prepared; and for this reason
the present work is so framed, that at least the unlearned among them
will quickly and often perceive that the book is not destined for them.
If from curiosity or excessive zeal against heresy they persist in
their perusal, they will then have, as Schleiermacher says on a similar
occasion, to bear the punishment in their conscience, since their
feelings directly urge on them the conviction that they understand not
that of which they are ambitious to speak.

A new opinion, which aims to fill the place of an older one, ought
fully to adjust its position with respect to the latter. Hence the way
to the mythical view is here taken in each particular point through the
supranaturalistic and rationalistic opinions and their respective
refutations; but, as becomes a valid refutation, with an acknowledgment
of what is true in the opinions combated, and an adoption of this truth
into the new theory. This method also brings with it the extrinsic
advantage, that the work may now serve as a repertory of the principal
opinions and treatises concerning all parts of the evangelical history.
The author has not, however, aimed to give a complete bibliographical
view of this department of theological literature, but, where it was
possible, has adhered to the chief works in each separate class of
opinions. For the rationalistic system the works of Paulus remain
classical, and are therefore pre-eminently referred to; for the
orthodox opinions, the commentary of Olshausen is especially important,
as the most recent and approved attempt to render the supranatural
interpretation philosophical and modern; while as a preliminary to a
critical investigation of the life of Jesus, the commentaries of
Fritzsche are excellently adapted, since they exhibit, together with
uncommon philological learning, that freedom from prejudice and
scientific indifference to results and consequences, which form the
first condition of progress in this region of inquiry.

The second volume, which will open with a detailed examination of the
miracles of Jesus, and which will conclude the whole work, is already
prepared and will be in the press immediately on the completion of the
first.

THE AUTHOR.

Tübingen, 24th May, 1835.

PREFACE TO THE FOURTH GERMAN EDITION.

As this new edition of my critical examination of the life of Jesus
appears simultaneously with the first volume of my Dogmatik, it will
not be expected to contain any essential alterations. Indeed, even in
the absence of other labours, I should scarcely have been inclined to
undertake such on the present occasion. The critical researches
prompted by the appearance of my work have, after the stormy reaction
of the first few years, at length entered on that quiet course, which
promises the most valuable assistance towards the confirmation and more
precise determination of the negative results at which I have arrived.
But these fruits still require some years for their maturing; and it
must therefore be deferred to a future opportunity to enrich this work
by the use of them. I could not persuade myself to do so, at least in
the present instance, by prosecuting a polemic against opposite
opinions. Already in the last edition there was more of a polemical
character than accorded with the unity and calmness proper to such a
work; hence I was in this respect admonished rather to abridge than to
amplify. But that edition also contained too much of compliance. The
intermingling voices of opponents, critics, and fellow labourers, to
which I held it a duty attentively to listen, had confused the idea of
the work in my mind; in the diligent comparison of divergent opinions I
had lost sight of the subject itself. Hence on coming with a more
collected mind to this last revision, I found alterations at which I
could not but wonder, and by which I had evidently done myself
injustice. In all these passages the earlier readings are now restored,
and thus my labour in this new edition has chiefly consisted in
whetting, as it were, my good sword, to free it from the notches made
in it rather by my own grinding, than by the blows of my enemies.

THE AUTHOR.

Stuttgard, 17th October, 1840.

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE MYTHICAL POINT OF VIEW IN RELATION TO THE GOSPEL
HISTORIES.

PAGE

§ 1. Inevitable rise of different modes of explaining sacred
histories 39
2. Different explanations of sacred legends among the Greeks 40
3. Allegorical interpretations among the Hebrews. Philo 41
4. Allegorical interpretations among the Christians. Origen 41
5. Transition to more modern times. Deists and Naturalists of
the 17th and 18th centuries. The Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist 44
6. Natural mode of explanation adopted by the Rationalists.
Eichhorn. Paulus 46
7. Moral interpretation of Kant 50
8. Rise of the mythical mode of interpreting the sacred
history, in reference first to the Old Testament 52
9. The mythical mode of interpretation in reference to the
New Testament 57
10. The notion of the mythus in its application to sacred
histories not clearly apprehended by theologians 59
11. The application of the notion of the mythus too
circumscribed 63
12. Opposition to the mythical view of the Gospel history 65
13. The possibility of the existence of mythi in the New
Testament considered in reference to external evidences 69
14. The possibility of mythi in the New Testament considered
on internal grounds 75
15. Definition of the evangelical mythus, and its distinctive
characteristics 86
16. Criteria by which to distinguish the unhistorical in the
Gospel narrative 87

FIRST PART.

HISTORY OF THE BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.

CHAPTER I.

ANNUNCIATION AND BIRTH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST.

§ 17. Account given by Luke. Immediate supernatural character
of the representation 95
18. Natural explanation of the narrative 100
19. Mythical view of the narrative in its different stages 104

CHAPTER II.

DAVIDICAL DESCENT OF JESUS, ACCORDING TO THE GENEALOGICAL TABLES OF
MATTHEW AND LUKE.

§ 20. The two genealogies of Jesus considered separately and
irrespectively of one another 108
21. Comparison of the two genealogies. Attempt to reconcile
their contradictions 112
22. The genealogies unhistorical 117

CHAPTER III.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE CONCEPTION OF JESUS.—ITS SUPERNATURAL
CHARACTER.—VISIT OF MARY TO ELIZABETH.

§ 23. Sketch of the different canonical and apocryphal accounts 119
24. Disagreements of the canonical gospels in relation to the
form of the annunciation 121
25. Import of the angel’s message. Fulfilment of the prophecy
of Isaiah 126
26. Jesus begotten of the Holy Ghost. Criticism of the
orthodox opinion 130
27. Retrospect of the genealogies 132
28. Natural explanation of the history of the conception 137
29. History of the conception of Jesus viewed as a mythus 140
30. Relation of Joseph to Mary. Brothers of Jesus 143
31. Visit of Mary to Elizabeth 148

CHAPTER IV.

BIRTH AND EARLIEST EVENTS OF THE LIFE OF JESUS.

§ 32. The census 152
33. Particular circumstances of the birth of Jesus. The
circumcision 156
34. The Magi and their star. The flight into Egypt, and the
murder of the children in Bethlehem. Criticism of the
supranaturalistic view 162
35. Attempts at a natural explanation of the history of the
Magi. Transition to the mythical explanation 169
36. The purely mythical explanation of the narrative
concerning the Magi, and of the events with which it
is connected 173
37. Chronological relation between the visit of the Magi,
together with the flight into Egypt, and the presentation
in the temple recorded by Luke 178
38. The presentation of Jesus in the temple 181
39. Retrospect. Difference between Matthew and Luke as to the
original residence of the parents of Jesus 184

CHAPTER V.

THE FIRST VISIT TO THE TEMPLE, AND THE EDUCATION OF JESUS.

§ 40. Jesus, when twelve years old, in the temple 191
41. This narrative also mythical 196
42. On the external life of Jesus up to the time of his
public appearance 198
43. The intellectual development of Jesus 201

SECOND PART.

HISTORY OF THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS.

CHAPTER I.

RELATIONS BETWEEN JESUS AND JOHN THE BAPTIST.

§ 44. Chronological relations between John and Jesus 209
45. Appearance and design of the Baptist. His personal
relations with Jesus 214
46. Was Jesus acknowledged by John as the Messiah? and in
what sense? 219
47. Opinion of the evangelists and of Jesus concerning
the Baptist, with his own judgment of himself. Result
of the inquiry into the relationship between these
two individuals 230
48. The execution of John the Baptist 234

CHAPTER II.

BAPTISM AND TEMPTATION OF JESUS.

§ 49. Why did Jesus receive baptism from John? 237
50. The scene at the baptism of Jesus considered as
supernatural, and as natural 239
51. An attempt at a criticism and mythical interpretation
of the narratives 242
52. Relation of the supernatural at the baptism of Jesus
to the supernatural in his conception 247
53. Place and time of the temptation of Jesus. Divergencies
of the evangelists on this subject 249
54. The history of the temptation conceived in the sense
of the evangelists 252
55. The temptation considered as a natural occurrence either
internal or external; and also as a parable 255
56. The history of the temptation as a mythus 259

CHAPTER III.

LOCALITY AND CHRONOLOGY OF THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS.

§ 57. Difference between the synoptical writers and John, as
to the customary scene of the ministry of Jesus 264
58. The residence of Jesus at Capernaum 271
59. Divergencies of the Evangelists as to the chronology
of the life of Jesus. Duration of his public ministry 275
60. The attempts at a chronological arrangement of the
particular events in the public life of Jesus 278

CHAPTER IV.

JESUS AS THE MESSIAH.

§ 61. Jesus, the Son of Man 281
62. How soon did Jesus conceive himself to be the Messiah,
and find recognition as such from others? 284
63. Jesus, the Son of God 288
64. The divine mission and authority of Jesus. His
pre-existence 291
65. The messianic plan of Jesus. Indications of a political
element 293
66. Data for the pure spirituality of the messianic plan
of Jesus. Balance 295
67. The relation of Jesus to the Mosaic law 297
68. Scope of the messianic plan of Jesus. Relation to
the Gentiles 300
69. Relation of the messianic plan of Jesus to the
Samaritans. His interview with the woman of Samaria 303

CHAPTER V.

THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS.

§ 70. Calling of the first companions of Jesus. Difference
between the first two Evangelists and the fourth 309
71. Peter’s draught of fishes 315
72. Calling of Matthew. Connexion of Jesus with the publicans 319
73. The twelve apostles 323
74. The twelve considered individually. The three or four
most confidential disciples of Jesus 326
75. The rest of the twelve, and the seventy disciples 330

CHAPTER VI.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS IN THE THREE FIRST GOSPELS.

§ 76. The Sermon on the Mount 334
77. Instructions to the twelve. Lamentations over the
Galilean cities. Joy over the calling of the simple 342
78. The parables 345
79. Miscellaneous instructions and controversies of Jesus 355

CHAPTER VII.

DISCOURSES OF JESUS IN THE FOURTH GOSPEL.

§ 80. Conversation of Jesus with Nicodemus 365
81. The discourses of Jesus, John v.–xii. 371
82. Isolated maxims of Jesus, common to the fourth gospel
and the synoptical ones 377
83. The modern discussions on the authenticity of the
discourses in the Gospel of John. Result 381

CHAPTER VIII.

EVENTS IN THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS, EXCLUSIVE OF THE MIRACLES.

§ 84. General comparison of the manner of narration that
distinguishes the several Evangelists 387
85. Isolated groups of anecdotes. Imputation of a league
with Beelzebub, and demand of a sign 391
86. Visit of the mother and brethren of Jesus. The woman
who pronounces the mother of Jesus blessed 394
87. Contentions for pre-eminence among the disciples. The
love of Jesus for children 396
88. The purification of the temple 399
89. Narratives of the anointing of Jesus by a woman 402
90. The narratives of the woman taken in adultery, and of
Mary and Martha 409

CHAPTER IX.

MIRACLES OF JESUS.

§ 91. Jesus considered as a worker of miracles 413
92. The demoniacs, considered generally 415
93. Cases of the expulsion of demons by Jesus, considered
singly 423
94. Cures of lepers 437
95. Cures of the blind 441
96. Cures of paralytics. Did Jesus regard diseases as
punishments? 452
97. Involuntary cures 457
98. Cures at a distance 462
99. Cures on the sabbath 471
100. Resuscitations of the dead 476
101. Anecdotes having relation to the sea 496
102. The miraculous multiplication of the loaves and fishes 507
103. Jesus turns water into wine 519
104. Jesus curses a barren fig-tree 527

CHAPTER X.

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS, AND HIS LAST JOURNEY TO JERUSALEM.

§ 105. The transfiguration of Jesus considered as a miraculous
external event 535
106. The natural explanation of the narrative in various
forms 537
107. The history of the transfiguration considered as a mythus 540
108. Diverging accounts concerning the last journey of Jesus
to Jerusalem 546
109. Divergencies of the gospels, in relation to the point
from which Jesus made his entrance into Jerusalem 549
110. More particular circumstances of the entrance. Its
object and historical reality 553

THIRD PART.

HISTORY OF THE PASSION, DEATH, AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS.

CHAPTER I.

RELATION OF JESUS TO THE IDEA OF A SUFFERING AND DYING MESSIAH; HIS
DISCOURSES ON HIS DEATH, RESURRECTION, AND SECOND ADVENT.

§ 111. Did Jesus in precise terms predict his passion and death? 563
112. The predictions of Jesus concerning his death in general;
their relation to the Jewish idea of the Messiah;
declarations of Jesus concerning the object and effects of
his death 567
113. Precise declarations of Jesus concerning his future
resurrection 574
114. Figurative discourses, in which Jesus is supposed to have
announced his resurrection 576
115. The discourses of Jesus on his second advent. Criticism
of the different interpretations 582
116. Origin of the discourses on the second advent 591

CHAPTER II.

MACHINATIONS OF THE ENEMIES OF JESUS; TREACHERY OF JUDAS; LAST SUPPER
WITH THE DISCIPLES.

§ 117. Development of the relation of Jesus to his enemies 599
118. Jesus and his betrayer 602
119. Different opinions concerning the character of Judas,
and the motives of his treachery 607
120. Preparation for the passover 611
121. Divergent statements respecting the time of the last
supper 614
122. Divergencies in relation to the occurrences at the last
meal of Jesus 621
123. Announcement of the betrayal and the denial 626
124. The institution of the Lord’s supper 631

CHAPTER III.

RETIREMENT TO THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, ARREST, TRIAL, CONDEMNATION, AND
CRUCIFIXION OF JESUS.

§ 125. Agony of Jesus in the garden 635
126. Relation of the fourth gospel to the events in Gethsemane.
The farewell discourses in John, and the scene following
the announcement of the Greeks 640
127. Arrest of Jesus 649
128. Examination of Jesus before the high priest 653
129. The denial by Peter 658
130. The death of the betrayer 662
131. Jesus before Pilate and Herod 669
132. The crucifixion 677

CHAPTER IV.

DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS.

§ 133. Prodigies attendant on the death of Jesus 691
134. The wound by a spear in the side of Jesus 697
135. Burial of Jesus 701
136. The watch at the grave of Jesus 705
137. First tidings of the resurrection 709
138. Appearances of the risen Jesus in Galilee and in Judea,
including those mentioned by Paul and by apocryphal
writings 718
139. Quality of the body and life of Jesus after the
resurrection 728
140. Debates concerning the reality of the death and
resurrection of Jesus 735

CHAPTER V.

THE ASCENSION.

§ 141. The last commands and promises of Jesus 745
142. The so-called ascension considered as a supernatural
and as a natural event 749
143. Insufficiency of the narratives of the ascension. Mythical
conception of those narratives 752

CONCLUDING DISSERTATION.

THE DOGMATIC IMPORT OF THE LIFE OF JESUS.

§ 144. Necessary transition from criticism to dogma 757
145. The Christology of the orthodox system 758
146. Objections to the Christology of the church 764
147. The Christology of rationalism 767
148. The eclectic Christology of Schleiermacher 768
149. Christology interpreted symbolically. Kant. De Wette 773
150. The speculative Christology 777
151. Last dilemma 778
152. Relation of the critical and speculative theology to
the church 781

THE LIFE OF JESUS.

INTRODUCTION.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE MYTHICAL POINT OF VIEW IN RELATION TO THE GOSPEL
HISTORIES.

§ 1.

INEVITABLE RISE OF DIFFERENT MODES OF EXPLAINING SACRED HISTORIES.

Wherever a religion, resting upon written records, prolongs and extends
the sphere of its dominion, accompanying its votaries through the
varied and progressive stages of mental cultivation, a discrepancy
between the representations of those ancient records, referred to as
sacred, and the notions of more advanced periods of mental development,
will inevitably sooner or later arise. In the first instance this
disagreement is felt in reference only to the unessential—the external
form: the expressions and delineations are seen to be inappropriate;
but by degrees it manifests itself also in regard to that which is
essential: the fundamental ideas and opinions in these early writings
fail to be commensurate with a more advanced civilisation. As long as
this discrepancy is either not in itself so considerable, or else is
not so universally discerned and acknowledged, as to lead to a complete
renunciation of these Scriptures as of sacred authority, so long will a
system of reconciliation by means of interpretation be adopted and
pursued by those who have a more or less distinct consciousness of the
existing incongruity.

A main element in all religious records is sacred history; a history of
events in which the divine enters, without intermediation, into the
human; the ideal thus assuming an immediate embodiment. But as the
progress of mental cultivation mainly consists in the gradual
recognition of a chain of causes and effects connecting natural
phenomena with each other; so the mind in its development becomes ever
increasingly conscious of those mediate links which are indispensable
to the realization of the ideal; [1] and hence the discrepancy between
the modern culture and the ancient records, with regard to their
historical portion, becomes so apparent, that the immediate
intervention of the divine in human affairs loses its probability.
Besides, as the humanity of these records is the humanity of an early
period, consequently of an age comparatively undeveloped and
necessarily rude, a sense of repulsion is likewise excited. The
incongruity may be thus expressed. The divine cannot so have happened;
(not immediately, not in forms so rude;) or, that which has so happened
cannot have been divine:—and if a reconciliation be sought by means of
interpretation, it will be attempted to prove, either that the divine
did not manifest itself in the manner related,—which is to deny the
historical validity of the ancient Scriptures; or, that the actual
occurrences were not divine—which is to explain away the absolute
contents of these books. In both cases the interpretation may be
partial or impartial: partial, if undertaken with a determination to
close the eyes to the secretly recognised fact of the disagreement
between the modern culture and the ancient records, and to see only in
such interpretation the original signification of these records;
impartial, if it unequivocally acknowledges and openly avows that the
matters narrated in these books must be viewed in a light altogether
different from that in which they were regarded by the authors
themselves. This latter method, however, by no means involves the
entire rejection of the religious documents; on the contrary, the
essential may be firmly retained, whilst the unessential is
unreservedly abandoned.

§ 2.

DIFFERENT EXPLANATIONS OF SACRED LEGENDS AMONG THE GREEKS.

Though the Hellenistic religion cannot be said to have rested upon
written records, it became enshrined in the Greek poems, for example,
in those of Homer and Hesiod; and these, no less than its orally
transmitted legends, did not fail to receive continually varying
interpretations, successively adapted to the progressive intellectual
culture of the Greeks. At an early period the rigid philosophy of the
Greeks, and under its influence even some of the Greek poets,
recognized the impossibility of ascribing to Deity manifestations so
grossly human, so immediate, and so barbarous, as those exhibited and
represented as divine in the wild conflicts of Hesiod’s Theogony, and
in the domestic occupations and trivial pursuits of the Homeric
deities. Hence arose the quarrel of Plato, and prior to him of Pindar,
with Homer; [2] hence the cause which induced Anaxagoras, to whom the
invention of the allegorical mode of interpretation is ascribed, to
apply the Homeric delineations to virtue and to justice; [3] hence it
was that the Stoics understood the Theogony of Hesiod as relating to
the action of the elements, which, according to their notions,
constituted, in their highest union, the divine nature. [4] Thus did
these several thinkers, each according to his own peculiar mode of
thought, succeed in discovering an absolute meaning in these
representations: the one finding in them a physical, the other an
ethical signification, whilst, at the same time, they gave up their
external form, ceasing to regard them as strictly historical.

On the other hand, the more popular and sophistical culture of another
class of thinkers led them to opposite conclusions. Though, in their
estimation, every semblance of the divine had evaporated from these
histories; though they were convinced that the proceedings ascribed to
the gods were not godlike, still they did not abandon the historical
sense of these narratives. With Evemerus [5] they transformed the
subjects of these histories from gods to men, to heroes and sages of
antiquity, kings and tyrants, who, through deeds of might and valour,
had acquired divine honours. Some indeed went still further, and, with
Polybius, [6] considered the whole system of heathen theology as a
fable, invented by the founders of states to awe the people into
subjection.

§ 3.

ALLEGORICAL INTERPRETATIONS AMONG THE HEBREWS.—PHILO.

Whilst, on the one hand, the isolation and stability of the Hebrews
served to retard the development of similar manifestations amongst this
people, on the other hand, when once actually developed, they were the
more marked; because, in proportion to the high degree of authority
ascribed to the sacred records, was the skill and caution required in
their interpretation. Thus, even in Palestine, subsequent to the exile,
and particularly after the time of the Maccabees, many ingenious
attempts were made to interpret the Old Testament so as to remove
offensive literalities, supply deficiencies, and introduce the notions
of a later age. Examples of this system of interpretation occur in the
writings of the Rabbins, and even in the New Testament; [7] but it was
at that place where the Jewish mind came into contact with Greek
civilization, and under its influence was carried beyond the limits of
its own national culture—namely at Alexandria—that the allegorical mode
of interpretation was first consistently applied to the whole body of
historical narrative in the Old Testament. Many had prepared the way,
but it was Philo who first fully developed the doctrine of both a
common and a deeper sense of the Holy Scriptures. He was by no means
inclined to cast away the former, but generally placed the two
together, side by side, and even declared himself opposed to those who,
everywhere and without necessity, sacrificed the literal to the higher
signification. In many cases, however, he absolutely discarded the
verbal meaning and historical conception, and considered the narrative
merely as the figurative representation of an idea. He did so, for
example, whenever the sacred story appeared to him to present
delineations unworthy of Deity, tending either to materialism or
anthropomorphism, or otherwise to contain contradictions. [8]

The fact that the Jews, whilst they adopted this mode of explaining the
Old Testament, (which, in order to save the purity of the intrinsic
signification, often sacrificed the historical form), were never led
into the opposite system of Evemerus (which preserved the historical
form by divesting the history of the divine, and reducing it to a
record of mere human events), is to be ascribed to the tenacity with
which that people ever adhered to the supernatural point of view. The
latter mode of interpretation was first brought to bear upon the Old
Testament by the Christians.

§ 4.

ALLEGORICAL INTERPRETATIONS AMONG THE CHRISTIANS.—ORIGEN.

To the early Christians who, antecedent to the fixing of the christian
canon, made especial use of the Old Testament as their principal sacred
record, an allegorical interpretation was the more indispensable,
inasmuch as they had made greater advances beyond the views of the Old
Testament writers than even the most enlightened of the Jews. It was no
wonder therefore that this mode of explanation, already in vogue among
the Jews, was almost universally adopted by the primitive christian
churches. It was however again in Alexandria that it found the fullest
application amongst the Christians, and that in connexion with the name
of Origen. Origen attributes a threefold meaning to the Scriptures,
corresponding with his distribution of the human being into three
parts: the literal sense answering to the body; the moral, to the soul;
and the mystical, to the spirit. [9] The rule with him was to retain
all three meanings, though differing in worth; in some particular
cases, however, he was of opinion that the literal interpretation
either gave no sense at all, or else a perverted sense, in order the
more directly to impel the reader to the discovery of its mystical
signification. Origen’s repeated observation that it is not the purpose
of the biblical narratives to transmit old tales, but to instruct in
the rules of life; [10] his assertion that the merely literal
acceptation of many of the narratives would prove destructive of the
christian religion; [11] and his application of the passage “The letter
killeth, but the spirit giveth life,” [12] to the relative worth of the
allegorical and the literal modes of biblical interpretation, may be
understood as indicating only the inferiority of the literal to the
deeper signification. But the literal sense is decidedly given up when
it is said, “Every passage of Scripture has a spiritual element, but
not every one has a corporeal element;” [13] “A spiritual truth often
exists embodied in a corporeal falsehood”; [14] “The Scriptures contain
many things which never came to pass, interwoven with the history, and
he must be dull indeed who does not of his own accord observe that much
which the Scriptures represent as having happened never actually
occurred.” [15] Among the passages which Origen regarded as admitting
no other than an allegorical interpretation, besides those which too
sensibly humanised the Deity, [16] he included those which attributed
unworthy action to individuals who had held intimate communion with
God. [17]

It was not however from the Old Testament views alone that Origen had,
in consequence of his christian training, departed so widely that he
felt himself compelled, if he would retain his reverence for the sacred
records, to allegorize their contents, as a means of reconciling the
contradiction which had arisen between them and his own mind. There was
much likewise in the New Testament writings which so little accorded
with his philosophical notions, that he found himself constrained to
adopt a similar proceeding in reference to them. He reasoned thus:—the
New Testament and the Old are the work of the same spirit, and this
spirit would proceed in the same manner in the production of the one
and of the other, interweaving fiction with reality, in order thereby
to direct the mind to the spiritual signification. [18] In a remarkable
passage of his work against Celsus, Origen classes together, and in no
ambiguous language, the partially fabulous stories of profane history,
and of heathen mythology, with the gospel narratives. [19] He expresses
himself as follows: “In almost every history it is a difficult task,
and not unfrequently an impossible one, to demonstrate the reality of
the events recorded, however true they may in fact be. Let us suppose
some individual to deny the reality of a Trojan war on account of the
incredibilities mixed up with the history; as, for example, the birth
of Achilles from a goddess of the sea. How could we substantiate the
fact, encumbered as it is with the numerous and undeniable poetical
fictions which have, in some unascertainable manner, become interwoven
with the generally admitted account of the war between the Greeks and
the Trojans? There is no alternative: he who would study history with
understanding, and not suffer himself to be deluded, must weigh each
separate detail, and consider what is worthy of credit and may be
believed without further evidence; what, on the contrary, must be
regarded as merely figurative; (τίνα δὲ τροπολογήσει) always bearing in
mind the aim of the narrator—and what must be wholly mistrusted as
being written with intent to please certain individuals.” In conclusion
Origen says, “I was desirous of making these preliminary observations
in relation to the entire history of Jesus given in the Gospels, not
with the view of exacting from the enlightened a blind and baseless
belief, but with design to show how indispensable to the study of this
history are not only judgment and diligent examination, but, so to
speak, the very penetrating into the mind of the author, in order to
discover the particular aim with which each narrative may have been
written.”

We here see Origen almost transcending the limits of his own customary
point of view, and verging towards the more modern mythical view. But
if his own prepossessions in favour of the supernatural, and his fear
of giving offence to the orthodox church, combined to hinder him from
making a wider application of the allegorical mode of interpretation to
the Old Testament, the same causes operated still more powerfully in
relation to the New Testament; so that when we further inquire of which
of the gospel histories in particular did Origen reject the historical
meaning, in order to hold fast a truth worthy of God? the instances
will prove to be meagre in the extreme. For when he says, in
illustration of the above-mentioned passage, that amongst other things,
it is not to be understood literally that Satan showed to Jesus all the
kingdoms of the earth from a mountain, because this is impossible to
the bodily eye; he here gives not a strictly allegorical
interpretation, but merely a different turn to the literal sense,
which, according to him, relates not to an external fact, but to the
internal fact of a vision. Again, even where the text offers a tempting
opportunity of sacrificing the literal to the spiritual meaning, as,
for example, the cursing of the fig-tree, [20] Origen does not speak
out freely. He is most explicit when speaking of the expulsion of the
buyers and sellers from the temple; he characterizes the conduct of
Jesus, according to the literal interpretation, as assuming and
seditious. [21] He moreover expressly remarks that the Scriptures
contain many more historical than merely scriptural truths. [22]

§ 5.

TRANSITION TO MORE MODERN TIMES.—DEISTS AND NATURALISTS OF THE 17TH AND
18TH CENTURIES.—THE WOLFENBÜTTEL FRAGMENTIST.

Thus was developed one of those forms of interpretation to which the
Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, in common with all other religious
records, in relation to their historical contents, became necessarily
subjected; that, namely, which recognizes in them the divine, but
denies it to have actually manifested itself in so immediate a manner.
The other principal mode of interpretation, which, to a certain extent,
acknowledges the course of events to have been historically true, but
assigns it to a human and not a divine origin, was developed amongst
the enemies of Christianity by a Celsus, a Porphyry, and a Julian. They
indeed rejected much of the history as altogether fabulous; but they
admitted many of the incidents related of Moses, Jesus, and others, to
be historical facts: these facts were however considered by them as
originating from common motives; and they attributed their apparently
supernatural character either to gross fraud or impious sorcery.

It is worthy of observation that the circumstances attending the
introduction of these several modes of interpretation into the heathen
and Jewish religions, on the one hand, and into the christian religion,
on the other, were different. The religion and sacred literature of the
Greeks and Hebrews had been gradually developed with the development of
the nation, and it was not until the intellectual culture of the people
had outgrown the religion of their fathers, and the latter was in
consequence verging towards decay, that the discrepancy which is the
source of these varying interpretations became apparent. Christianity,
on the contrary, came into a world of already advanced civilization;
which was, with the exception of that of Palestine, the
Judaico-Hellenistic and the Greek. Consequently a disagreement
manifested itself at the very beginning; it was not now, however, as in
former times, between modern culture and an ancient religion, but
between a new religion and ancient culture. The production of
allegorical interpretations among the Pagans and the Hebrews, was a
sign that their religion had lost its vitality; the allegories of
Origen and the attacks of Celsus, in reference to Christianity, were
evidences rather that the world had not as yet duly accommodated itself
to the new religion. As however with the christianizing of the Roman
empire, and the overthrow of the chief heresies, the christian
principle gained an ever-increasing supremacy; as the schools of
heathen wisdom closed; and the uncivilized Germanic tribes lent
themselves to the teaching of the church;—the world, during the tedious
centuries of the middle ages, was satisfied with Christianity, both in
form and in substance. Almost all traces of these modes of
interpretation which presuppose a discrepancy between the culture of a
nation, or of the world, and religion, in consequence disappeared. The
reformation effected the first breach in the solid structure of the
faith of the church. It was the first vital expression of a culture,
which had now in the heart of Christendom itself, as formerly in
relation to Paganism and Judaism, acquired strength and independence
sufficient to create a reaction against the soil of its birth, the
prevailing religion. This reaction, so long as it was directed against
the dominant hierarchy, constituted the sublime, but quickly
terminated, drama of the reformation. In its later direction against
the Bible, it appeared again upon the stage in the barren revolutionary
efforts of deism; and many and various have been the forms it has
assumed in its progress down to the present time.

The deists and naturalists of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
renewed the polemic attacks of the pagan adversaries of Christianity in
the bosom of the christian church; and gave to the public an irregular
and confused mass of criticisms, impugning the authenticity and
credibility of the Scriptures, and exposing to contempt the events
recorded in the sacred volume. Toland, [23] Bolingbroke, [24] and
others, pronounced the Bible to be a collection of unauthentic and
fabulous books; whilst some spared no pains to despoil the biblical
histories, and the heroes whose actions they celebrate, of every ray of
divine light. Thus, according to Morgan, [25] the law of Moses is a
miserable system of superstition, blindness, and slavery; the Jewish
priests are deceivers; and the Jewish prophets the originators of the
distractions and civil wars of the two kingdoms of Judah and Israel.
According to Chubb, [26] the Jewish religion cannot be a revelation
from God, because it debases the moral character of the Deity by
attributing to him arbitrary conduct, partiality for a particular
people, and above all, the cruel command to exterminate the Canaanitish
nations. Assaults were likewise made by these and other deists upon the
New Testament: the Apostles were suspected of being actuated by selfish
and mercenary motives; [27] the character of Jesus himself was not
spared, [28] and the fact of his resurrection was denied. [29] The
miracles of Jesus, wrought by an immediate exercise of divine power in
human acts and concerns, were made the particular objects of attack by
Woolston. [30] This writer is also worthy of notice on account of the
peculiar position taken by him between the ancient allegorists and the
modern naturalists. His whole reasoning turns upon the alternative;
either to retain the historical reality of the miracles narrated in the
Bible, and thus to sacrifice the divine character of the narratives,
and reduce the miracles to mere artifices, miserable juggleries, or
commonplace deceptions; or, in order to hold fast the divine character
of these narratives, to reject them entirely as details of actual
occurrences, and regard them as historical representations of certain
spiritual truths. Woolston cites the authority of the most
distinguished allegorists among the fathers in support of this view. He
is wrong however in representing them as supplanting the literal by the
figurative meaning. These ancient fathers, on the contrary, were
disposed to retain both the literal and the allegorical meaning. (A few
examples in Origen, it is true, are an exception to this rule.) It may
be doubted, from the language of Woolston, which alternative was
adopted by himself. If we reason from the fact, that before he appeared
as the opponent of the commonly entertained views of Christianity, he
occupied himself with allegorical interpretations of the Scriptures,
[31] we may be led to consider the latter alternative as expressing his
real conviction. On the other hand, he enlarges with so evident a
predilection on the absurdities of the miracles, when literally
understood, and the manner in which he treats the whole subject is so
tinged with levity, that we may suspect the Deist to put forward the
allegorical interpretations merely as a screen, from behind which he
might inveigh the more unreservedly against the literal signification.

Similar deistical objections against the Bible, and the divine
character of its history, were propagated in Germany chiefly by an
anonymous author (Reimarus) whose manuscripts were discovered by
Lessing in the Wolfenbüttel library. Some portions of these
manuscripts, called the “Wolfenbüttel Fragments,” were published by
Lessing in 1774. They consist of Essays, one of which treats of the
many arguments which may be urged against revealed religion in general;
the others relate partly to the Old and partly to the New Testament. It
is the opinion of the Fragmentist, in relation to the Old Testament,
first, that the men, of whom the Scriptures narrate that they had
immediate communications with God, were so unworthy, that such
intercourse, admitting its reality, compromised the character of Deity;
secondly, that the result of this intercourse,—the instructions and
laws alleged to have been thus divinely communicated,—were so barbarous
and destructive, that to ascribe them to God is impossible; and
thirdly, that the accompanying miracles were at once absurd and
incredible. From the whole, it appears to him clear, that the divine
communications were only pretended; and that the miracles were
delusions, practised with the design of giving stability and efficiency
to certain laws and institutions highly advantageous to the rulers and
priests. The author finds much to condemn in the conduct of the
patriarchs, and their simulations of divine communications; such as the
command to Abraham to sacrifice his son. But it is chiefly Moses upon
whom he seeks, in a long section, to cast all the obloquy of an
impostor, who did not scruple to employ the most disgraceful means in
order to make himself the despotic ruler of a free people: who, to
effect his purpose, feigned divine apparitions, and pretended to have
received the command of God to perpetrate acts which, but for this
divine sanction, would have been stigmatized as fraudulent, as highway
robbery, as inhuman barbarity. For instance, the spoiling of the
Egyptians, and the extirpation of the inhabitants of Canaan; atrocities
which, when introduced by the words “Jehovah hath said it,” became
instantly transformed into deeds worthy of God. The Fragmentist is as
little disposed to admit the divinity of the New Testament histories.
He considers the aim of Jesus to have been political; and his connexion
with John the Baptist a preconcerted arrangement, by which the one
party should recommend the other to the people. He views the death of
Jesus as an event by no means foreseen by himself, but which frustrated
all his plans; a catastrophe which his disciples knew not how else to
repair than by the fraudulent pretence that Jesus was risen from the
dead, and by an artful alteration of his doctrines [32].

§ 6.

NATURAL MODE OF EXPLANATION ADOPTED BY THE
RATIONALISTS.—EICHHORN.—PAULUS.

Whilst the reality of the biblical revelation, together with the divine
origin and supernatural character of the Jewish and Christian
histories, were tenaciously maintained in opposition to the English
deists by numerous English apologists, and in opposition to the
Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist by the great majority of German theologians,
there arose a distinct class of theologians in Germany, who struck into
a new path. The ancient pagan mythology, as understood by Evemerus,
admitted of two modes of explanation, each of which was in fact
adopted. The deities of the popular worship might, on the one hand, be
regarded as good and benevolent men; as wise lawgivers, and just
rulers, of early times, whom the gratitude of their contemporaries and
posterity had encircled with divine glory; or they might, on the other
hand, be viewed as artful impostors and cruel tyrants, who had veiled
themselves in a nimbus of divinity, for the purpose of subjugating the
people to their dominion. So, likewise, in the purely human explanation
of the bible histories, besides the method of the deists to regard the
subjects of these narratives as wicked and deceitful men, there was yet
another course open; to divest these individuals of their immediate
divinity, but to accord to them an undegraded humanity; not indeed to
look upon their deeds as miraculous;—as little on the other hand to
decry them as impositions;—but to explain their proceedings as
altogether natural, yet morally irreprehensible. If the Naturalist was
led by his special enmity to the Christianity of the church to the
former explanation, the Rationalist, anxious, on the contrary, to
remain within the pale of the church, was attracted towards the latter.

Eichhorn, in his critical examination of the Wolfenbüttel Fragments,
[33] directly opposes this rationalistic view to that maintained by the
Naturalist. He agrees with the Fragmentist in refusing to recognize an
immediate divine agency, at all events in the narratives of early date.
The mythological researches of a Heyne had so far enlarged his circle
of vision as to lead Eichhorn to perceive that divine interpositions
must be alike admitted, or alike denied, in the primitive histories of
all people. It was the practice of all nations, of the Grecians as well
as the Orientals, to refer every unexpected or inexplicable occurrence
immediately to the Deity. The sages of antiquity lived in continual
communion with superior intelligences. Whilst these representations
(such is Eichhorn’s statement of the matter) are always, in reference
to the Hebrew records, understood verbally and literally, it has
hitherto been customary to explain similar representations in the pagan
histories, by presupposing either deception and gross falsehood, or the
misinterpretation and corruption of tradition. But Eichhorn thinks
justice evidently requires that Hebrew and pagan history should be
treated in the same way; so that intercourse with celestial beings
during a state of infancy, must either be accorded to all nations,
pagan and Hebrew, or equally denied to all. The mind hesitates to make
so universal an admission: first, on account of the not unfrequent
errors contained in religions claiming to have been divinely
communicated; secondly, from a sense of the difficulty of explaining
the transition of the human race from a state of divine tutelage to one
of self-dependence: and lastly, because in proportion as intelligence
increases, and the authenticity of the records may be more and more
confidently relied upon, in the same proportion do these immediate
divine influences invariably disappear. If, accordingly, the notion of
supernatural interposition is to be rejected with regard to the
Hebrews, as well as to all other people, the view generally taken of
pagan antiquity presents itself, at first sight, as that most obviously
applicable to the early Hebrews; namely, that their pretended
revelations were based upon deceit and falsehood, or that their
miraculous histories should be referred to the misrepresentations and
corruptions of tradition. This is the view of the subject actually
applied by the Fragmentist to the Old Testament; a representation, says
Eichhorn, from which the mind on a nearer contemplation recoils. Is it
conceivable that the greatest men of antiquity, whose influence
operated so powerfully and so beneficially upon their age, should one
and all have been impostors, and yet have escaped the detection of
their contemporaries?

According to Eichhorn, so perverted a view could arise only in a mind
that refused to interpret the ancient records in the spirit of their
age. Truly, had they been composed with all the philosophical accuracy
of the writers of the present day, we should have been compelled to
find in them either actual divine interpositions, or a fraudulent
pretence. But they are the production of an infant and unscientific
age; and treat, without reserve of divine interventions, in accordance
with the conceptions and phraseology of that early period. So that, in
point of fact, we have neither miracles to wonder at, on the one hand,
nor deceptions to unmask on the other; but simply the language of a
former age to translate into that of our own day. Eichhorn observes
that before the human race had gained a knowledge of the true causes of
things, all occurrences were referred to supernatural agencies, or to
the interposition of superhuman beings. Lofty conceptions, noble
resolves, useful inventions and regulations, but more especially vivid
dreams, were the operations of that Deity under whose immediate
influence they believed themselves placed. Manifestations of
distinguished intelligence and skill, by which some individual excited
the wonder of the people, were regarded as miraculous; as signs of
supernatural endowments, and of a particular intercourse with higher
beings. And this was the belief, not of the people only, but also of
these eminent individuals, who entertained no doubt of the fact, and
who exulted in the full conviction of being in mysterious connexion
with the Deity. Eichhorn is of opinion that no objection can be urged
against the attempt to resolve all the Mosaic narratives into natural
occurrences, and thus far he concedes to the Fragmentist his primary
position; but he rejects his inference that Moses was an impostor,
pronouncing the conclusion to be over-hasty and unjust. Thus Eichhorn
agreed with the Naturalists in divesting the biblical narratives of all
their immediately divine contents, but he differed from them in this,
that he explained the supernatural lustre which adorns these histories,
not as a fictitious colouring imparted with design to deceive, but as a
natural and as it were spontaneous illumination reflected from
antiquity itself.

In conformity with these principles Eichhorn sought to explain
naturally the histories of Noah, Abraham, Moses, etc. Viewed in the
light of that age, the appointment of Moses to be the leader of the
Israelites was nothing more than the long cherished project of the
patriot to emancipate his people, which when presented before his mind
with more than usual vividness in his dreams, was believed by him to be
a divine inspiration. The flame and smoke which ascended from Mount
Sinai, at the giving of the law, was merely a fire which Moses kindled
in order to make a deeper impression upon the imagination of the
people, together with an accidental thunderstorm which arose at that
particular moment. The shining of his countenance was the natural
effect of being over-heated: but it was supposed to be a divine
manifestation, not only by the people, but by Moses himself, he being
ignorant of the true cause.

Eichhorn was more reserved in his application of this mode of
interpretation to the New Testament. Indeed, it was only to a few of
the narratives in the Acts of the Apostles, such as the miracle of the
day of Pentecost, the conversion of the Apostle Paul, and the many
apparitions of angels, that he allowed himself to apply it. Here too,
he refers the supernatural to the figurative language of the Bible; in
which, for example, a happy accident is called—a protecting angel; a
joyous thought—the salutation of an angel; and a peaceful state of
mind—a comforting angel. It is however remarkable that Eichhorn was
conscious of the inapplicability of the natural explanation to some
parts of the gospel history, and with respect to many of the narratives
took a more elevated view.

Many writings in a similar spirit, which partially included the New
Testament within the circle of their explanations, appeared; but it was
Dr. Paulus who by his commentary on the Gospels [34] in 1800, first
acquired the full reputation of a christian Evemerus. In the
introduction to this work he states it to be the primary requisite of
the biblical critic to be able to distinguish between what is fact, and
what is opinion. That which has been actually experienced, internally
or externally, by the participants in an event, he calls fact. The
interpretation of an event, the supposed causes to which it is referred
either by the participants or by the narrators, he calls opinion. But,
according to Dr. Paulus, these two elements become so easily blended
and confounded in the minds both of the original sharers in an event,
and of the subsequent relators and historians, that fact and opinion
lose their distinction; so that the one and the other are believed and
recorded with equal confidence in their historical truth. This
intermixture is particularly apparent in the historical books of the
New Testament; since at the time when Jesus lived, it was still the
prevailing disposition to derive every striking occurrence from an
invisible and superhuman cause. It is consequently the chief task of
the historian who desires to deal with matters of fact, that is to say,
in reference to the New Testament, to separate these two constituent
elements so closely amalgamated, and yet in themselves so distinct; and
to extricate the pure kernel of fact from the shell of opinion. In
order to do this, in the absence of any more genuine account which
would serve as a correcting parallel, he must transplant himself in
imagination upon the theatre of action, and strive to the utmost to
contemplate the events by the light of the age in which they occurred.
And from this point of view he must seek to supply the deficiencies of
the narration, by filling in those explanatory collateral
circumstances, which the relator himself is so often led by his
predilection for the supernatural to leave unnoticed. It is well known
in what manner Dr. Paulus applies these principles to the New Testament
in his Commentary, and still more fully in his later production, “The
Life of Jesus.” He firmly maintains the historical truth of the gospel
narratives, and he aims to weave them into one consecutive
chronologically-arranged detail of facts; but he explains away every
trace of immediate divine agency, and denies all supernatural
intervention. Jesus is not to him the Son of God in the sense of the
Church, but a wise and virtuous human being; and the effects he
produced are not miracles, but acts sometimes of benevolence and
friendship, sometimes of medical skill, sometimes also the results of
accident and good fortune.

This view proposed by Eichhorn, and more completely developed by
Paulus, necessarily presupposes the Old and New Testament writings to
contain a minute and faithful narration, composed shortly after the
occurrence of the events recorded, and derived, wherever this was
possible, from the testimony of eye-witnesses. For it is only from an
accurate and original report that the ungarbled fact can be
disentangled from interwoven opinion. If the report be later and less
original, what security is there that what is taken for the
matter-of-fact kernel does not belong to opinion or tradition? To avoid
this objection, Eichhorn sought to assign a date to the Old Testament
histories approximating as nearly as possible to the events they
record: and here he, and other theologians of the same school, found no
difficulty in admitting suppositions the most unnatural: for example,
that the Pentateuch was written during the passage through the
wilderness. However this critic admits that some portions of the Old
Testament, the Book of Judges, for instance, could not have been
written contemporaneously with the events; that the historian must have
contemplated his heroes through the dim mist of intervening ages, which
might easily have magnified them into giant forms. No historian who had
either witnessed the circumstances, or had been closely connected with
them in point of time, could embellish after such fashion, except with
the express aim to amuse at the expense of truth. But with regard to
remote occurrences it is quite different. The imagination is no longer
restricted by the fixed limits of historical reality, but is aided in
its flight by the notion that in earlier times all things were better
and nobler; and the historian is tempted to speak in loftier phrase,
and to use hyperbolical expressions. Least of all is it possible to
avoid embellishment, when the compiler of a subsequent age derives his
materials from the orally transmitted traditions of antiquity. The
adventures and wondrous exploits of ancestors, handed down by father to
son, and by son to grandson, in glowing and enthusiastic
representations, and sung by the poet in lofty strains, are registered
in the written records of the historian in similar terms of high
flowing diction. Though Eichhorn took this view of a portion of the Old
Testament Books, he believed he was not giving up their historical
basis, but was still able, after clearing away the more or less evident
legendary additions, to trace out the natural course of the history.

But in one instance at least, this master of the natural mode of
interpretation in reference to the Old Testament, took a more elevated
view:—namely, of the history of the creation and the fall. In his
influential work on primitive history, [35] although he had from the
first declared the account of the creation to be poetry, he
nevertheless maintained that of the fall to be neither mythology nor
allegory, but true history. The historical basis that remained after
the removal of the supernatural, he stated to be this: that the human
constitution had at the very beginning become impaired by the eating of
a poisonous fruit. He thought it indeed very possible in itself, and
confirmed by numerous examples in profane history, that purely
historical narratives might be overlaid by a mythical account; but
owing to a supranaturalistic notion, he refused to allow the same
possibility to the Bible, because he thought it unworthy of the Deity
to admit a mythological fragment into a book, which bore such
incontestable traces of its divine origin. Later, however, Eichhorn
himself declared that he had changed his opinion with regard to the
second and third chapters of Genesis. [36] He no longer saw in them an
historical account of the effects of poison, but rather the mythical
embodying of a philosophical thought; namely, that the desire for a
better condition than that in which man actually is, is the source of
all the evil in the world. Thus, in this point at least, Eichhorn
preferred to give up the history in order to hold fast the idea, rather
than to cling to the history with the sacrifice of every more elevated
conception. For the rest, he agreed with Paulus and others in
considering the miraculous in the sacred history as a drapery which
needs only to be drawn aside, in order to disclose the pure historic
form.

§ 7.

MORAL INTERPRETATION OF KANT.

Amidst these natural explanations which the end of the eighteenth
century brought forth in rich abundance, it was a remarkable interlude
to see the old allegorical system of the christian fathers all at once
called up from its grave, and revived in the form of the moral
interpretation of Kant. He, as a philosopher, did not concern himself
with the history, as did the rationalist theologians, but like the
fathers of the church, he sought the idea involved in the history: not
however considering it as they did an absolute idea, at once
theoretical as well as practical, but regarding it only on its
practical side, as what he called the moral imperative and consequently
belonging to the finite. He moreover attributed these ideas wrought
into the biblical text, not to the Divine Spirit, but to its
philosophical interpreters, or in a deeper sense, to the moral
condition of the authors of the book themselves. This opinion Kant [37]
bases upon the fact, that in all religions old and new which are partly
comprised in sacred books, intelligent and well-meaning teachers of the
people have continued to explain them, until they have brought their
actual contents into agreement with the universal principles of
morality. Thus did the moral philosophers amongst the Greeks and Romans
with their fabulous legends; till at last they explained the grossest
polytheism as mere symbolical representations of the attributes of the
one divine Being, and gave a mystical sense to the many vicious actions
of their gods, and to the wildest dreams of their poets, in order to
bring the popular faith, which it was not expedient to destroy, into
agreement with the doctrines of morality. The later Judaism and
Christianity itself he thinks have been formed upon similar
explanations, occasionally much forced, but always directed to objects
undoubtedly good and necessary for all men. Thus the Mahometans gave a
spiritual meaning to the sensual descriptions of their paradise, and
thus the Hindoos, or at least the more enlightened part of them,
interpreted their Vedas. In like manner, according to Kant, the
Christian Scriptures of the Old and New Testament, must be interpreted
throughout in a sense which agrees with the universal practical laws of
a religion of pure reason: and such an explanation, even though it
should, apparently or actually, do violence to the text, which is the
case with many of the biblical narratives, is to be preferred to a
literal one, which either contains no morality at all or is in
opposition to the moral principle. For example, the expressions
breathing vengeance against enemies in many of the Psalms are made to
refer to the desires and passions which we must strive by all means to
bring into subjection; and the miraculous account in the New Testament
of the descent of Jesus from heaven, of his relationship to God, etc.,
is taken as an imaginative description of the ideal of humanity
well-pleasing to God. That such an interpretation is possible, without
even always too offensive an opposition to the literal sense of these
records of the popular faith, arises according to the profound
observations of Kant from this: that long before the existence of these
records, the disposition to a moral religion was latent in the human
mind; that its first manifestations were directed to the worship of the
Deity, and on this very account gave occasion to those pretended
revelations; still, though unintentionally, imparting even to these
fictions somewhat of the spiritual character of their origin. In reply
to the charge of dishonesty brought against his system of
interpretation, he thinks it a sufficient defence to observe, that it
does not pretend that the sense now given to the sacred books, always
existed in the intention of the authors; this question it sets aside,
and only claims for itself the right to interpret them after its own
fashion.

Whilst Kant in this manner sought to educe moral thoughts from the
biblical writings, even in their historical part, and was even inclined
to consider these thoughts as the fundamental object of the history: on
the one hand, he derived these thoughts only from himself and the
cultivation of his age, and therefore could seldom assume that they had
actually been laid down by the authors of those writings; and on the
other hand, and for the same reason, he omitted to show what was the
relation between these thoughts and those symbolic representations, and
how it happened that the one came to be expressed by the other.

§ 8.

RISE OF THE MYTHICAL MODE OF INTERPRETING THE SACRED HISTORY, IN
REFERENCE FIRST TO THE OLD TESTAMENT.

It was impossible to rest satisfied with modes of proceeding so
unhistorical on the one hand, and so unphilosophical on the other.
Added to which, the study of mythology, now become far more general and
more prolific in its results, exerted an increasing influence on the
views taken of biblical history. Eichhorn had indeed insisted that all
primitive histories, whether Hebrew or Pagan, should be treated alike,
but this equality gradually disappeared; for though the mythical view
became more and more developed in relation to profane history, the
natural mode of explanation was still rigidly adhered to for the Hebrew
records. All could not imitate Paulus, who sought to establish
consistency of treatment by extending the same natural explanation
which he gave to the Bible, to such also of the Greek legends as
presented any points of resemblance; on the contrary, opinion in
general took the opposite course, and began to regard many of the
biblical narratives as mythi. Semler had already spoken of a kind of
Jewish mythology, and had even called the histories of Samson and
Esther mythi; Eichhorn too had done much to prepare the way, now
further pursued by Gabler, Schelling, and others, who established the
notion of the mythus as one of universal application to ancient
history, sacred as well as profane, according to the principle of
Heyne: A mythis omnis priscorum hominum cum historia tum philosophia
procedit. [38] And Bauer in 1820 ventured so far as to publish a Hebrew
mythology of the Old and New Testament. [39] The earliest records of
all nations are, in the opinion of Bauer, mythical: why should the
writings of the Hebrews form a solitary exception?—whereas in point of
fact a cursory glance at their sacred books proves that they also
contain mythical elements. A narrative he explains, after Gabler and
Schelling, to be recognizable as mythus, first, when it proceeds from
an age in which no written records existed, but in which facts were
transmitted through the medium of oral tradition alone; secondly, when
it presents an historical account of events which are either absolutely
or relatively beyond the reach of experience, such as occurrences
connected with the spiritual world, and incidents to which, from the
nature of the circumstances, no one could have been witness; or
thirdly, when it deals in the marvellous and is couched in symbolical
language. Not a few narratives of this description occur in the Bible;
and an unwillingness to regard them as mythi can arise only from a
false conception of the nature of a mythus, or of the character of the
biblical writings. In the one case mythi are confounded with fables,
premeditated fictions, and wilful falsehoods, instead of being
recognised as the necessary vehicle of expression for the first efforts
of the human mind; in the other case it certainly does appear
improbable, (the notion of inspiration presupposed,) that God should
have admitted the substitution of mythical for actual representations
of facts and ideas, but a nearer examination of the scriptures shows
that this very notion of inspiration, far from being any hindrance to
the mythical interpretation, is itself of mythical origin.

Wegscheider ascribed this greater unwillingness to recognise mythi in
the early records of the Hebrew and Christian religion than in the
heathen religions, partly to the prevailing ignorance respecting the
progress of historical and philosophical science; partly to a certain
timidity which dares not call things manifestly identical by the same
name. At the same time he declared it impossible to rescue the Bible
from the reproaches and scoffs of its enemies except by the
acknowledgment of mythi in the sacred writings, and the separation of
their inherent meaning from their unhistorical form. [40]

These biblical critics gave the following general definition of the
mythus. It is the representation of an event or of an idea in a form
which is historical, but, at the same time characterized by the rich
pictorial and imaginative mode of thought and expression of the
primitive ages. They also distinguished several kinds of mythi. [41]

1st. Historical mythi: narratives of real events coloured by the light
of antiquity, which confounded the divine and the human, the natural
and the supernatural.

2nd. Philosophical mythi: such as clothe in the garb of historical
narrative a simple thought, a precept, or an idea of the time.

3rd. Poetical mythi: historical and philosophical mythi partly blended
together, and partly embellished by the creations of the imagination,
in which the original fact or idea is almost obscured by the veil which
the fancy of the poet has woven around it.

To classify the biblical mythi according to these several distinctions
is a difficult task, since the mythus which is purely symbolical wears
the semblance of history equally with the mythus which represents an
actual occurrence. These critics however laid down rules by which the
different mythi might be distinguished. The first essential is, they
say, to determine whether the narrative have a distinct object, and
what that object is. Where no object, for the sake of which the legend
might have been invented, is discoverable, every one would pronounce
the mythus to be historical. But if all the principal circumstances of
the narrative concur to symbolize a particular truth, this undoubtedly
was the object of the narrative, and the mythus is philosophical. The
blending of the historical and philosophical mythus is particularly to
be recognised when we can detect in the narrative an attempt to derive
events from their causes. In many instances the existence of an
historical foundation is proved also by independent testimony;
sometimes certain particulars in the mythus are intimately connected
with known genuine history, or bear in themselves undeniable and
inherent characteristics of probability: so that the critic, while he
rejects the external form, may yet retain the groundwork as historical.
The poetical mythus is the most difficult to distinguish, and Bauer
gives only a negative criterion. When the narrative is so wonderful on
the one hand as to exclude the possibility of its being a detail of
facts, and when on the other it discovers no attempt to symbolize a
particular thought, it may be suspected that the entire narrative owes
its birth to the imagination of the poet. Schelling particularly
remarks on the unartificial and spontaneous origin of mythi in general.
The unhistorical which is interwoven with the matters of fact in the
historical mythus is not, he observes, the artistical product of design
and invention. It has on the contrary glided in of itself, as it were,
in the lapse of time and in the course of transmission. And, speaking
of philosophical mythi, he says: the sages of antiquity clothed their
ideas in an historical garb, not only in order to accommodate those
ideas to the apprehension of a people who must be awakened by sensible
impressions, but also on their own account: deficient themselves in
clear abstract ideas, and in ability to give expression to their dim
conceptions, they sought to illumine what was obscure in their
representations by means of sensible imagery. [42]

We have already remarked, that the natural mode of interpreting the Old
Testament could be maintained only so long as the records were held to
be contemporaneous, or nearly so, with the events recorded.
Consequently it was precisely those theologians, Vater, De Wette and
others who controverted this opinion, who contributed to establish the
mythical view of the sacred histories. Vater [43] expressed the opinion
that the peculiar character of the narrations in the Pentateuch could
not be rightly understood, unless it were conceded that they are not
the production of an eye witness, but are a series of transmitted
traditions. Their traditional origin being admitted, we cease to feel
surprised at the traces which they discover of a subsequent age; at
numerical exaggerations, together with other inaccuracies and
contradictions; at the twilight which hangs over many of the
occurrences; and at representations such as, that the clothes of the
Israelites waxed not old during their passage through the wilderness.
Vater even contends, that unless we ascribe a great share of the
marvellous contained in the Pentateuch to tradition, we do violence to
the original sense of the compilers of these narratives.

The natural mode of explanation was still more decidedly opposed by De
Wette than by Vater. He advocated the mythical interpretation of a
large proportion of the Old Testament histories. In order to test the
historical credibility of a narrative, he says, [44] we must ascertain
the intention of the narrator. If that intention be not to satisfy the
natural thirst for historical truth by a simple narration of facts, but
rather to delight or touch the feelings, or to illustrate some
philosophical or religious truth, then his narrative has no pretension
to historical validity. Even when the narrator is conscious of strictly
historical intentions, nevertheless his point of view may not be the
historical: he may be a poetical narrator, not indeed subjectively, as
a poet drawing inspiration from himself, but objectively, as enveloped
by and depending on poetry external to himself. This is evidently the
case when the narrator details as bonâ fide matter of fact things which
are impossible and incredible, which are contrary not only to
experience, but to the established laws of nature. Narrations of this
description spring out of tradition. Tradition, says De Wette, is
uncritical and partial; its tendency is not historical, but rather
patriotic and poetical. And since the patriotic sentiment is gratified
by all that flatters national pride, the more splendid, the more
honourable, the more wonderful the narrative, the more acceptable it
is; and where tradition has left any blanks, imagination at once steps
in and fills them up. And since, he continues, a great part of the
historical books of the Old Testament bear this stamp, it has hitherto
been believed possible (on the part of the natural interpreters) to
separate the embellishments and transformations from the historical
substance, and still to consider them available as records of facts.
This might indeed be done, had we, besides the marvellous biblical
narratives, some other purely historical account of the events. But
this is not the case with regard to the Old Testament history; we are
solely dependent on those accounts which we cannot recognize as purely
historical. They contain no criterion by which to distinguish between
the true and the false; both are promiscuously blended, and set forth
as of equal dignity. According to De Wette, the whole natural mode of
explanation is set aside by the principle that the only means of
acquaintance with a history is the narrative which we possess
concerning it, and that beyond this narrative the historian cannot go.
In the present case, this reports to us only a supernatural course of
events, which we must either receive or reject: if we reject it, we
determine to know nothing at all about it, and are not justified in
allowing ourselves to invent a natural course of events, of which the
narrative is totally silent. It is moreover inconsistent and arbitrary
to refer the dress in which the events of the Old Testament are clothed
to poetry, and to preserve the events themselves as historical; much
rather do the particular details and the dress in which they appear,
constitute a whole belonging to the province of poetry and mythus. For
example, if God’s covenant with Abraham be denied in the form of fact,
whilst at the same time it is maintained that the narrative had an
historical basis,—that is to say, that though no objective divine
communication took place, the occurrence had a subjective reality in
Abraham’s mind in a dream or in a waking vision; in other words, that a
natural thought was awakened in Abraham which he, in the spirit of the
age, referred to God:—of the naturalist who thus reasons, De Wette
asks, how he knows that such thoughts arose in Abraham’s mind? The
narration refers them to God; and if we reject the narration, we know
nothing about these thoughts of Abraham, and consequently cannot know
that they had arisen naturally in him. According to general experience,
such hopes as are described in this covenant, that he should become the
father of a mighty nation which should possess the land of Canaan,
could not have sprung up naturally in Abraham’s mind; but it is quite
natural that the Israelites when they had become a numerous people in
possession of that land, should have invented the covenant in order to
render their ancestor illustrious. Thus the natural explanation, by its
own unnaturalness, ever brings us back to the mythical.

Even Eichhorn, who so extensively employed the natural explanation in
reference to the Old Testament, perceived its inadmissibility in
relation to the gospel histories. Whatever in these narratives has a
tendency to the supernatural, he remarks, [45] we ought not to attempt
to transform into a natural occurrence, because this is impossible
without violence. If once an event has acquired a miraculous colouring,
owing to the blending together of some popular notion with the
occurrence, the natural fact can be disentangled only when we possess a
second account which has not undergone the like transformation; as,
concerning the death of Herod Agrippa, we have not only the narrative
in the Acts, but also that of Josephus. [46] But since we have no such
controlling account concerning the history of Jesus, the critic who
pretends to discover the natural course of things from descriptions of
supernatural occurrences, will only weave a tissue of indemonstrable
hypotheses:—a consideration which, as Eichhorn observes, at once
annihilates many of the so-called psychological interpretations of the
Gospel histories.

It is this same difference between the natural and mythical modes of
interpretation which Krug intends to point out, referring particularly
to the histories of miracles, when he distinguishes the physical or
material, from the genetic or formal, mode of explaining them.
Following the former mode, according to him, the inquiry is: how can
the wonderful event here related have possibly taken place with all its
details by natural means and according to natural laws? Whereas,
following the latter, the question is: whence arose the narrative of
the marvellous event? The former explains the natural possibility of
the thing related (the substance of the narrative); the latter traces
the origin of the existing record (the form of the narrative). Krug
considers attempts of the former kind to be fruitless, because they
produce interpretations yet more wonderful than the fact itself; far
preferable is the other mode, since it leads to results which throw
light upon miraculous histories collectively. He gives the preference
to the exegetist, because in his explanation of the text he is not
obliged to do violence to it, but may accept it altogether literally as
the author intended, even though the thing related be impossible;
whereas the interpreter, who follows the material or physical
explanation, is driven to ingenious subtleties which make him lose
sight of the original meaning of the authors, and substitute something
quite different which they neither could nor would have said.

In like manner Gabler recommended the mythical view, as the best means
of escaping from the so called natural, but forced explanation, which
had become the fashion. The natural interpreter, he remarks, commonly
aims to make the whole narrative natural; and as this can but seldom
succeed, he allows himself the most violent measures, owing to which
modern exegesis has been brought into disrepute even amongst laymen.
The mythical view, on the contrary, needs no such subtleties; since the
greater part of a narrative frequently belongs to the mythical
representation merely, while the nucleus of fact, when divested of the
subsequently added miraculous envelopments, is often very small.

Neither could Horst reconcile himself to the atomistic mode of
proceeding, which selected from the marvellous narratives of the Bible,
as unhistorical, isolated incidents merely, and inserted natural ones
in their place, instead of recognizing in the whole of each narrative a
religious moral mythus in which a certain idea is embodied.

An anonymous writer in Bertholdt’s Journal has expressed himself very
decidedly against the natural mode of explaining the sacred history,
and in favour of the mythical. The essential defect of the natural
interpretation, as exhibited in its fullest development by Paulus’s
Commentary, is, according to that writer, its unhistorical mode of
procedure. He objects: that it allows conjecture to supply the
deficiencies of the record; adopts individual speculations as a
substitute for real history; seeks by vain endeavours to represent that
as natural which the narrative describes as supernatural; and lastly,
evaporates all sacredness and divinity from the Scriptures, reducing
them to collections of amusing tales no longer meriting the name of
history. According to our author, this insufficiency of the natural
mode of interpretation, whilst the supernatural also is felt to be
unsatisfactory, leads the mind to the mythical view, which leaves the
substance of the narrative unassailed; and instead of venturing to
explain the details, accepts the whole, not indeed as true history, but
as a sacred legend. This view is supported by the analogy of all
antiquity, political and religious, since the closest resemblance
exists between many of the narratives of the Old and New Testament, and
the mythi of profane antiquity. But the most convincing argument is
this: if the mythical view be once admitted, the innumerable, and never
otherwise to be harmonized, discrepancies and chronological
contradictions in the gospel histories disappear, as it were, at one
stroke. [47]

§ 9.

THE MYTHICAL MODE OF INTERPRETATION IN REFERENCE TO THE NEW TESTAMENT.

Thus the mythical mode of interpretation was adopted not only in
relation to the Old Testament, but also to the New; not, however,
without its being felt necessary to justify such a step. Gabler has
objected to the Commentary of Paulus, that it concedes too little to
the mythical point of view, which must be adopted for certain New
Testament narratives. For many of these narratives present not only
those mistaken views of things which might have been taken by
eye-witnesses, and by the rectification of which a natural course of
events may be made out; but frequently, also, false facts and
impossible consequences which no eye-witness could have related, and
which could only have been the product of tradition, and must therefore
be mythically understood. [48]

The chief difficulty which opposed the transference of the mythical
point of view from the Old Testament to the New, was this:—it was
customary to look for mythi in the fabulous primitive ages only, in
which no written records of events as yet existed; whereas, in the time
of Jesus, the mythical age had long since passed away, and writing had
become common among the Jews. Schelling had however conceded (at least
in a note) that the term mythi, in a more extended sense, was
appropriate to those narratives which, though originating in an age
when it was usual to preserve documentary records, were nevertheless
transmitted by the mouth of the people. Bauer [49] in like manner
asserted, that though a connected series of mythi,—a history which
should be altogether mythical,—was not to be sought in the New
Testament, yet there might occur in it single myths, either transferred
from the Old Testament to the New, or having originally sprung up in
the latter. Thus he found, in the details of the infancy of Jesus, much
which requires to be regarded from a mythical point of view. As after
the decease of celebrated personages, numerous anecdotes are circulated
concerning them, which fail not to receive many and wondrous
amplifications in the legends of a wonder-loving people; so, after
Jesus had become distinguished by his life, and yet more glorified by
his death, his early years, which had been passed in obscurity, became
adorned with miraculous embellishments. And, according to Bauer,
whenever in this history of the infancy we find celestial beings,
called by name and bearing the human shape, predicting future
occurrences, etc., we have a right to suppose a mythus; and to
conjecture as its origin, that the great actions of Jesus being
referred to superhuman causes, this explanation came to be blended with
the history. On the same subject, Gabler [50] remarked that the notion
of ancient is relative; compared with the Mosaic religion Christianity
is certainly young; but in itself it is old enough to allow us to refer
the original history of its founder to ancient times. That at that time
written documents on other subjects existed, proves nothing, whilst it
can be shown that for a long period there was no written account of the
life of Jesus, and particularly of his infancy. Oral narratives were
alone transmitted, and they would easily become tinged with the
marvellous, mixed with Jewish ideas, and thus grow into historical
mythi. On many other points there was no tradition, and here the mind
was left to its own surmises. The more scanty the historical data, the
greater was the scope for conjecture, and historical guesses and
inferences of this description, formed in harmony with the
Jewish-Christian tastes, may be called the philosophical, or rather,
the dogmatical mythi of the early christian Gospel. The notion of the
mythus, concludes Gabler, being thus shown to be applicable to many of
the narratives of the New Testament, why should we not dare to call
them by their right name; why—that is to say in learned
discussion—avoid an expression which can give offence only to the
prejudiced or the misinformed?

As in the Old Testament Eichhorn had been brought over by the force of
internal evidence from his earlier natural explanation, to the mythical
view of the history of the fall; so in the New Testament, the same
thing happened to Usteri in relation to the history of the temptation.
In an earlier work he had, following Schleiermacher, considered it as a
parable spoken by Jesus but misunderstood by his disciples. [51] Soon
however he perceived the difficulties of this interpretation; and since
both the natural and the supernatural views of the narrative appeared
to him yet more objectionable, he had no alternative but to adopt the
mythical. Once admit, he remarks, a state of excitement, particularly
of religious excitement, among a not unpoetical people, and a short
time is sufficient to give an appearance of the marvellous not only to
obscure and concealed, but even to public and well-known facts. It is
therefore by no means conceivable that the early Jewish Christians,
gifted with the spirit, that is, animated with religious enthusiasm, as
they were, and familiar with the Old Testament, should not have been in
a condition to invent symbolical scenes such as the temptation and
other New Testament mythi. It is not however to be imagined that any
one individual seated himself at his table to invent them out of his
own head, and write them down, as he would a poem: on the contrary,
these narratives like all other legends were fashioned by degrees, by
steps which can no longer be traced; gradually acquired consistency,
and at length received a fixed form in our written Gospels.

We have seen that in reference to the early histories of the Old
Testament, the mythical view could be embraced by those only who
doubted the composition of these Scriptures by eye-witnesses or
contemporaneous writers. This was equally the case in reference to the
New. It was not till Eichhorn [52] became convinced that only a slender
thread of that primitive Gospel believed by the Apostles ran through
the three first Gospels, and that even in Matthew this thread was
entangled in a mass of unapostolic additions, that he discarded as
unhistorical legends, the many narratives which he found perplexing,
from all share in the history of Jesus; for example, besides the Gospel
of Infancy, the details of the temptation; several of the miracles of
Jesus; the rising of the saints from their graves at his crucifixion;
the guard at the sepulchre, etc. [53] Particularly since the opinion,
that the three first Gospels originated from oral traditions, became
firmly established, [54] they have been found to contain a continually
increasing number of mythi and mythical embellishments. [55] On this
account the authenticity of the Gospel of John, and consequently its
historical credibility, is confidently maintained by most of the
theologians of the present day: he only who, with Bretschneider, [56]
questions its apostolic composition, may cede in this Gospel also a
considerable place to the mythical element.

§ 10.

THE NOTION OF THE MYTHUS IN ITS APPLICATION TO SACRED HISTORIES NOT
CLEARLY APPREHENDED BY THEOLOGIANS.

Thus, indeed, did the mythical view gain application to the biblical
history: still the notion of the mythus was for a long time neither
clearly apprehended nor applied to a due extent.

Not clearly apprehended. The characteristic which had been recognised
as constituting the distinction between historical and philosophical
mythi, however just that distinction might in itself be, was of a kind
which easily betrayed the critic back again into the scarcely abandoned
natural explanation. His task, with regard to historical mythi, was
still to separate the natural fact—the nucleus of historical
reality—from its unhistorical and miraculous embellishments. An
essential difference indeed existed: the natural explanation attributed
the embellishments to the opinion of the actors concerned, or of the
narrator; the mythical interpretation derived them from tradition; but
the mode of proceeding was left too little determined. If the
Rationalist could point out historical mythi in the Bible, without
materially changing his mode of explanation; so the Supernaturalist on
his part felt himself less offended by the admission of historical
mythi, which still preserved to the sacred narratives a basis of fact,
than by the supposition of philosophical mythi, which seemed completely
to annihilate every trace of historical foundation. It is not
surprising, therefore, that the interpreters who advocated the mythical
theory spoke almost exclusively of historical mythi; that Bauer,
amongst a considerable number of mythi which he cites from the New
Testament, finds but one philosophical mythus; and that a mixed mode of
interpretation, partly mythical and partly natural, (a medley far more
contradictory than the pure natural explanation, from the difficulties
of which these critics sought to escape,) should have been adopted.
Thus Bauer [57] thought that he was explaining Jehovah’s promise to
Abraham as an historical mythus, when he admitted as the fundamental
fact of the narrative, that Abraham’s hopes of a numerous posterity
were re-awakened by the contemplation of the star-sown heavens. Another
theologian [58] imagined he had seized the mythical point of view,
when, having divested the announcement of the birth of the Baptist of
the supernatural, he still retained the dumbness of Zachariah as the
historical groundwork. In like manner Krug, [59] immediately after
assuring us that his intention is not to explain the substance of the
history, (according to the natural mode,) but to explain the origin of
the narrative, (according to the mythical view,) constitutes an
accidental journey of oriental merchants the basis of the narrative of
the visit of the wise men from the east. But the contradiction is most
glaring when we meet with palpable misconceptions of the true nature of
a mythus in a work on the mythology of the New Testament, such as
Bauer’s; in which for instance he admits, in the case of the parents of
John the Baptist, a marriage which had actually been childless during
many years;—in which he explains the angelic appearance at the birth of
Jesus as a meteoric phenomenon; supposes the occurrence of thunder and
lightning and the accidental descent of a dove at his baptism;
constitutes a storm the groundwork of the transfiguration; and converts
the angels at the tomb of the risen Jesus into white grave-clothes.
Kaiser also, though he complains of the unnaturalness of many of the
natural explanations, accords to a very considerable proportion of
natural explanations a place by the side of the mythical; remarking—and
the remark is in itself just—that to attempt to explain all the
miracles of the New Testament in one and the same manner betrays a
limited and partial comprehension of the subject. Let it be primarily
admitted that the ancient author intended to narrate a miracle, and the
natural explanation is in many instances admissible. This may be either
a physical-historical explanation, as in the narrative of the leper
whose approaching recovery Jesus doubtless perceived; or it may be a
psychological explanation; since, in the case of many sick persons, the
fame of Jesus and faith in him were mainly instrumental in effecting
the cure; sometimes indeed good fortune must be taken into the account,
as where one apparently dead revived in the presence of Jesus, and he
became regarded as the author of the sudden re-animation. With respect
to other miracles Kaiser is of opinion that the mythical interpretation
is to be preferred; he, however, grants a much larger space to
historical, than to philosophical mythi. He considers most of the
miracles in the Old and New Testament real occurrences mythically
embellished: such as the narrative of the piece of money in the fish’s
mouth; and of the changing of water into wine: which latter history he
supposes to have originated from a friendly jest on the part of Jesus.
Few only of the miracles are recognised by this critic as pure poetry
embodying Jewish ideas; as the miraculous birth of Jesus, and the
murder of the innocents. [60]

Gabler in particular calls attention to the error of treating
philosophical mythi as if they were historical, and of thus converting
into facts things that never happened. [61] He is however as little
disposed to admit the exclusive existence of philosophical, as of
historical mythi in the New Testament, but adopting a middle course, he
decides in each case that the mythus is of this kind or of that
according to its intrinsic character. He maintains that it is as
necessary to guard against the arbitrary proceeding of handling as
philosophical a mythus through which a fact unquestionably glimmers, as
it is to avoid the opposite tendency to explain naturally or
historically that which belongs properly to the mythical clothing. In
other words: when the derivation of a mythus from a thought is easy and
natural, and when the attempt to educe from it a matter of fact and to
give the wonderful history a natural explanation, does violence to the
sense or appears ridiculous, we have, according to Gabler, certain
evidence that the mythus is philosophical and not historical. He
remarks in conclusion that the philosophical-mythical interpretation is
in many cases far less offensive than the historical-mythical
explanation. [62]

Yet, notwithstanding this predilection in favour of the philosophical
mythus in relation to biblical history, one is surprised to find that
Gabler himself was ignorant of the true nature both of the historical
and of the philosophical mythus. Speaking of the mythological
interpreters of the New Testament who had preceded him, he says that
some of them, such as Dr. Paulus, discover in the history of Jesus
historical mythi only; whilst others, the anonymous E. F. in Henke’s
Magazine for instance, find only philosophical mythi. From this we see
that he confounded not only the natural explanation with the
historical-mythical view, (for in Paulus’s “Commentar” the former only
is adopted,) but also historical with philosophical mythi; for the
author E. F. is so exclusively attached to the historical-mythical view
that his explanations might almost be considered as naturalistic.

De Wette has some very cogent observations directed equally against the
arbitrary adoption either of the historical-mythical or of the natural
explanation in relation to the Mosaic history. In reference to the New
Testament an anonymous writer in Bertholdt’s Critical Journal [63] is
the most decided in his condemnation of every attempt to discover an
historical groundwork even in the Gospel mythi. To him likewise the
midway path struck out by Gabler, between the exclusive adoption of
historical mythi on the one hand and of philosophical mythi on the
other, appears inapplicable; for though a real occurrence may in fact
constitute the basis of most of the New Testament narratives, it may
still be impossible at the present time to separate the element of fact
from the mythical adjuncts which have been blended with it, and to
determine how much may belong to the one and how much to the other.
Usteri likewise expressed the opinion that it is no longer possible to
discriminate between the historical and the symbolical in the gospel
mythi; no critical knife however sharp is now able to separate the one
element from the other. A certain measure of probability respecting the
preponderance of the historical in one legend, and of the symbolical in
another, is the ultimate point to which criticism can now attain.

Opposed however to the onesidedness of those critics who found it so
easy to disengage the historical contents from the mythical narratives
of the Scriptures, is the onesidedness of other critics, who, on
account of the difficulty of the proposed separation, despaired of the
possibility of success, and were consequently led to handle the whole
mass of gospel mythi as philosophical, at least in so far as to
relinquish the endeavour to extract from them a residuum of historical
fact. Now it is precisely this latter onesidedness which has been
attributed to my criticism of the life of Jesus; consequently, several
of the reviewers of this work have taken occasion repeatedly to call
attention to the varying proportions in which the historical and the
ideal in the pagan religion and primitive history, (the legitimate
province of the mythus,) alternate; an interchange with the historical
which in the christian primitive history, presupposing the notion of
the mythus to be admitted here, must unquestionably take place in a far
greater degree. Thus Ullmann distinguishes not only firstly the
philosophical, and secondly the historical mythus, but makes a further
distinction between the latter (that is the historical mythus, in which
there is always a preponderance of the fictitious,) and thirdly the
mythical history, in which the historical element, though wrought into
the ideal, forms the predominating constituent; whilst fourthly in
histories of which the legend is a component element we tread properly
speaking upon historical ground, since in these histories we meet only
with a few faint echoes of mythical fiction. Ullmann is moreover of
opinion, and Bretschneider and others agree with him, that
independently of the repulsion and confusion which must inevitably be
caused by the application of the term mythus to that which is
Christian—a term originally conceived in relation to a religion of a
totally different character—it were more suitable, in connexion with
the primitive Christian records, to speak only of Gospel legend, (Sage)
and the legendary element. [64]

George on the contrary has recently attempted not only more accurately
to define the notions of the mythus and of the legend, but likewise to
demonstrate that the gospel narratives are mythical rather than
legendary. Speaking generally, we should say, that he restricts the
term mythus to what had previously been distinguished as philosophical
mythi; and that he applies the name legend to what had hitherto been
denominated historical mythi. He handles the two notions as the
antipodes of each other; and grasps them with a precision by which the
notion of the mythus has unquestionably gained. According to George,
mythus is the creation of a fact out of an idea: legend the seeing of
an idea in a fact, or arising out of it. A people, a religious
community, finds itself in a certain condition or round of institutions
of which the spirit, the idea, lives and acts within it. But the mind,
following a natural impulse, desires to gain a complete representation
of that existing condition, and to know its origin. This origin however
is buried in oblivion, or is too indistinctly discernible to satisfy
present feelings and ideas. Consequently an image of that origin,
coloured by the light of existing ideas, is cast upon the dark wall of
the past, which image is however but a magnified reflex of existing
influences.

If such be the rise of the mythus, the legend, on the contrary,
proceeds from given facts: represented, indeed, sometimes in an
incomplete and abridged, sometimes in an amplified form, in order to
magnify the heroes of the history—but disjoined from their true
connexion; the points of view from which they should be contemplated,
and the ideas they originally contained, having in the course of
transmission wholly disappeared. The consequence is, that new ideas,
conceived in the spirit of the different ages through which the legend
has passed down, become substituted in the stead of the original ideas.
For example, the period of Jewish history subsequent to the time of
Moses, which was in point of fact pervaded by a gradual elevation of
ideas to monotheism and to a theocracy, is, in a later legend,
represented in the exactly opposite light, as a state of falling away
from the religious constitution of Moses. An idea so unhistorical will
infallibly here and there distort facts transmitted by tradition, fill
up blanks in the history, and subjoin new and significant features—and
then the mythus reappears in the legend. It is the same with the
mythus: propagated by tradition, it, in the process of transmission,
loses its distinctive character and completeness, or becomes
exaggerated in its details—as for example in the matter of numbers—and
then the mythus comes under the influence of the legend. In such wise
do these two formations, so essentially distinct in their origin, cross
each other and mingle together. Now, if the history of the life of
Jesus be of mythical formation, inasmuch as it embodies the vivid
impression of the original idea which the first christian community had
of their founder, this history, though unhistorical in its form, is
nevertheless a faithful representation of the idea of the Christ. If
instead of this, the history be legendary—if the actual external facts
are given in a distorted and often magnified form—are represented in a
false light and embody a false idea,—then, on the contrary, the real
tenour of the life of Jesus is lost to us. So that, according to
George, the recognition of the mythical element in the Gospels is far
less prejudicial to the true interests of the Christian faith than the
recognition of the legendary element. [65]

With respect to our own opinion, without troubling ourselves here with
the dogmatic signification, we need only remark in this introduction,
that we are prepared to meet with both legend and mythus in the gospel
history; and when we undertake to extract the historial contents which
may possibly exist in narratives recognized as mythical, we shall be
equally careful neither on the one part by a rude and mechanical
separation, to place ourselves on the same ground with the natural
interpreter; nor on the other by a hypercritical refusal to recognize
such contents where they actually exist, to lose sight of the history.

§ 11.

THE APPLICATION OF THE NOTION OF THE MYTHUS TOO CIRCUMSCRIBED.

The notion of the mythus, when first admitted by theologians, was not
only imperfectly apprehended, but also too much limited in its
application to biblical history.

As Eichhorn recognized a genuine mythus only on the very threshold of
the Old Testament history, and thought himself obliged to explain all
that followed in a natural manner; as, some time later, other portions
of the Old Testament were allowed to be mythical, whilst nothing of the
kind might be suspected in the New; so, when the mythus was once
admitted into the New Testament, it was here again long detained at the
threshold, namely, the history of the infancy of Jesus, every farther
advance being contested. Ammon, [66] the anonymous E. F. in Henke’s
Magazine, Usteri, and others maintained a marked distinction between
the historical worth of the narratives of the public life and those of
the infancy of Jesus. The records of the latter could not, they
contend, have been contemporaneous; for particular attention was not at
that time directed towards him; and it is equally manifest that they
could not have been written during the last three years of his life,
since they embody the idea of Jesus glorified, and not of Jesus in
conflict and suffering. Consequently their composition must be referred
to a period subsequent to his resurrection. But at this period accurate
data concerning his childhood were no longer to be obtained. The
apostles knew him first in manhood. Joseph was probably dead; and Mary,
supposing her to be living when the first and third gospels were
composed, had naturally imparted an imaginative lustre to every
incident treasured in her memory, whilst her embellishments were
doubtless still further magnified in accordance with the Messianic
ideas of those to whom her communications were made. Much also that is
narrated had no historical foundation, but originated entirely from the
notions of the age, and from the Old Testament predictions—that a
virgin should conceive—for example. But, say these critics, all this
does not in any degree impair the credibility of what follows. The
object and task of the Evangelists was merely to give an accurate
account of the three last years of the life of Jesus; and here they
merit implicit confidence, since they were either themselves spectators
of the details they record, or else had learned them from the mouth of
trustworthy eye-witnesses. This boundary line between the credibility
of the history of the public life, and the fabulousness of the history
of the infancy of Jesus, became yet more definitely marked, from the
circumstance that many theologians were disposed to reject the two
first chapters of Matthew and Luke as spurious and subsequent
additions. [67]

Soon, however, some of the theologians who had conceded the
commencement of the history to the province of mythi, perceived that
the conclusion, the history of the ascension, must likewise be regarded
as mythical. [68] Thus the two extremities were cut off by the pruning
knife of criticism, whilst the essential body of the history, the
period from the baptism to the resurrection, remained, as yet,
unassailed: or in the words of the reviewer of Greiling’s Life of
Jesus: [69] the entrance to the gospel history was through the
decorated portal of mythus, and the exit was similar to it, whilst the
intermediate space was still traversed by the crooked and toilsome
paths of natural interpretations.

In Gabler’s [70] writings we meet with a somewhat more extended
application of the mythical view. He distinguishes (and recently
Rosenkranz [71] has agreed with him) between the miracles wrought by
Jesus and those operated on him or in relation to him, interpreting the
latter mythically, but the former naturally. Subsequently however, we
find Gabler expressing himself as if with the above mentioned
theologians he restricted the mythical interpretation to the miraculous
narratives of the childhood of Jesus, but this restriction is in fact a
limitation merely of the admitted distinction: since though all the
miracles connected with the early history of Jesus were operated in
relation to him and not wrought by him, many miracles of the same
character occur in the history of his public life. Bauer appears to
have been guided by the same rule in his Hebrew mythology. He classes
as mythical the narratives of the conception and birth of Jesus, of the
Baptism, the transfiguration, the angelic apparitions in Gethsemane and
at the sepulchre: miracles selected from all periods of the life of
Jesus, but all operated in relation to him and not by him. This
enumeration, however, does not include all the miracles of this kind.

The often referred to author of the treatise “Upon the different views
with which and for which a Biographer of Jesus may work,” has
endeavoured to show that so limited an application of the notion of the
mythus to the history of the life of Jesus is insufficient and
inconsequent. This confused point of view from which the gospel
narrative is regarded as partly historical and partly mythical owes its
origin, according to him, to those theologians who neither give up the
history, nor are able to satisfy themselves with its clear results, but
who think to unite both parties by this middle course—a vain endeavour
which the rigid supranaturalist pronounces heretical, and the
rationalist derides. The attempt of these reconcilers, remarks our
author, to explain as intelligible everything which is not impossible,
lays them open to all the charges so justly brought against the natural
interpretation; whilst the admission of the existence of mythi in the
New Testament subjects them to the direct reproach of being
inconsequent: the severest censure which can be passed upon a scholar.
Besides, the proceeding of these Eclectics is most arbitrary, since
they decide respecting what belongs to the history and what to the
mythus almost entirely upon subjective grounds. Such distinctions are
equally foreign to the evangelists, to logical reasoning, and to
historical criticism. In consistency with these opinions, this writer
applies the notion of the mythus to the entire history of the life of
Jesus; recognizes mythi or mythical embellishments in every portion,
and ranges under the category of mythus not merely the miraculous
occurrences during the infancy of Jesus, but those also of his public
life; not merely miracles operated on Jesus, but those wrought by him.

The most extended application of the notion of the philosophical or
dogmatical mythus to the Gospel histories which has yet been made, was
published in 1799 in an anonymous work concerning Revelation and
Mythology. The writer contends that the whole life of Jesus, all that
he should and would do, had an ideal existence in the Jewish mind long
prior to his birth. Jesus as an individual was not actually such as
according to Jewish anticipations he should have been. Not even that,
in which all the records which recount his actions agree, is absolutely
matter of fact. A popular idea of the life of Jesus grew out of various
popular contributions, and from this source our written Gospels were
first derived. A reviewer objects that this author appears to suppose a
still smaller portion of the historical element in the gospels than
actually exists. It would, he remarks, have been wiser to have been
guided by a sober criticism of details, than by a sweeping scepticism.
[72]

§ 12.

OPPOSITION TO THE MYTHICAL VIEW OF THE GOSPEL HISTORY.

In adopting the mythical point of view as hitherto applied to Biblical
history, our theologians had again approximated to the ancient
allegorical interpretation. For as both the natural explanations of the
Rationalists, and the jesting expositions of the Deists, belong to that
form of opinion which, whilst it sacrifices all divine meaning in the
sacred record, still upholds its historical character; the mythical
mode of interpretation agrees with the allegorical, in relinquishing
the historical reality of the sacred narratives in order to preserve to
them an absolute inherent truth. The mythical and the allegorical view
(as also the moral) equally allow that the historian apparently relates
that which is historical, but they suppose him, under the influence of
a higher inspiration known or unknown to himself, to have made use of
this historical semblance merely as the shell of an idea—of a religious
conception. The only essential distinction therefore between these two
modes of explanation is, that according to the allegorical this higher
intelligence is the immediate divine agency; according to the mythical,
it is the spirit of a people or a community. (According to the moral
view it is generally the mind of the interpreter which suggests the
interpretation.) Thus the allegorical view attributes the narrative to
a supernatural source, whilst the mythical view ascribes it to that
natural process by which legends are originated and developed. To which
it should be added, that the allegorical interpreter (as well as the
moral) may with the most unrestrained arbitrariness separate from the
history every thought he deems to be worthy of God, as constituting its
inherent meaning; whilst the mythical interpreter, on the contrary, in
searching out the ideas which are embodied in the narrative, is
controlled by regard to conformity with the spirit and modes of thought
of the people and of the age.

This new view of the sacred Scriptures was opposed alike by the
orthodox and by the rationalistic party. From the first, whilst the
mythical interpretation was still restricted to the primitive history
of the Old Testament, Hess [73] on the orthodox side, protested against
it. The three following conclusions may be given as comprising, however
incredible this may appear, the substance of his book, a work of some
compass; upon which however it is unnecessary to remark further than
that Hess was by no means the last orthodox theologian who pretended to
combat the mythical view with such weapons. He contends, 1st, that
mythi are to be understood figuratively; now the sacred historians
intended their writings to be understood literally: consequently they
do not relate mythi. 2ndly, Mythology is something heathenish; the
Bible is a christian book; consequently it contains no mythology. The
third conclusion is more complex, and, as will appear below, has more
meaning. If, says Hess, the marvellous were confined to those earliest
biblical records of which the historical validity is less certain, and
did not appear in any subsequent writings, the miraculous might be
considered as a proof of the mythical character of the narrative; but
the marvellous is no less redundant in the latest and undeniably
historical records, than in the more ancient; consequently it cannot be
regarded as a criterion of the mythical. In short the most hollow
natural explanation, did it but retain the slightest vestige of the
historical—however completely it annihilated every higher meaning,—was
preferable, in the eyes of the orthodox, to the mythical
interpretation. Certainly nothing could be worse than Eichhorn’s
natural explanation of the fall. In considering the tree of knowledge
as a poisonous plant, he at once destroyed the intrinsic value and
inherent meaning of the history; of this he afterwards became fully
sensible, and in his subsequent mythical interpretation, he recognized
in the narrative the incorporation of a worthy and elevated conception.
Hess however declared himself more content with Eichhorn’s original
explanation, and defended it against his later mythical interpretation.
So true is it that supranaturalism clings with childlike fondness to
the empty husk of historical semblance, though void of divine
significance, and estimates it higher than the most valuable kernel
divested of its variegated covering.

Somewhat later De Wette’s bold and thorough application of the mythical
view to the Mosaic writings; his decided renunciation of the so-called
historical-mythical, or more properly speaking of the natural mode of
interpretation; and his strict opposition to the notion of the
possibility of arriving at any certainty respecting the residue of fact
preserved in these writings, gave rise to much controversy. Some agreed
with Steudel in totally rejecting the mythical view in relation to the
Bible, and in upholding the strictly historical and indeed supranatural
sense of the Scriptures: whilst Meyer and others were willing to follow
the guidance of De Wette, at least as far as the principles of Vater,
which permitted the attempt to extract some, if only probable,
historical data from the mythical investment. If, says Meyer [74], the
marvellousness and irrationality of many of the narratives contained in
the Pentateuch, (narratives which no one would have thought of
inventing,) together with the want of symmetry and connexion in the
narration, and other considerations, permit us not to mistake the
historical groundwork of the record; surely, allowing the existence of
an historical basis, a modest and cautious attempt to seek out or at
any rate to approximate towards a discovery of that historical
foundation is admissible. In the hope of preserving those who adopted
the historical-mythical view from relapsing into the inconsistencies of
the natural interpreters, Meyer laid down the following rules, which
however serve rather to exhibit afresh the difficulty of escaping this
danger. 1. To abstract every thing which is at once recognizable as
mythical representation as opposed to historical fact; that is the
extraordinary, the miraculous, accounts of immediate divine operation,
also the religious notions of the narrators in relation to final
causes. 2. To proceed from that which is simple to that which is more
complicated. Let a case be supposed where we have two accounts of the
same event, the one natural, the other supernatural, as, for instance,
the gathering of the elders by Moses, attributed, Numbers, xi. 16., to
the suggestion of Jehovah, and Exodus, xviii. 14., to the counsel of
Jethro. According to this rule all divine inspiration must be
subtracted from the known decisions of Noah, Abraham, Moses, and
others. (Precisely the proceeding which met with the censure of De
Wette quoted above.) 3. As far as possible to contemplate the fact
which forms the basis of a narrative, in its simple and common
character, apart from all collateral incidents. (This however, is going
too far where no basis of fact exists.) For example. The story of the
deluge may be reduced thus; a great inundation in Asia Minor, according
to the legend, destroyed many wicked. (Here the supposed final cause is
not abstracted.) Noah the father of Shem, a devout man, (the
teleological notion again!) saved himself by swimming. The exact
circumstances of this preservation, the character of the vessel, if
such there were, which saved him, are left undetermined in order to
avoid arbitrary explanations. Thus, in reference to the birth of Isaac,
Meyer is satisfied with saying, that the wish and hope of the wealthy
and pious Emir Abraham to possess an heir by his wife Sara was
fulfilled unusually late, and in the eyes of others very unexpectedly.
(Here again De Wette’s censure is quite applicable.)

In like manner Eichhorn, in his Introduction to the New Testament,
declared in yet stronger terms his opposition to the view advocated by
De Wette. If the orthodox were displeased at having their historical
faith disturbed by the progressive inroads of the mythical mode of
interpretation, the rationalists were no less disconcerted to find the
web of facts they had so ingeniously woven together torn asunder, and
all the art and labour expended on the natural explanation at once
declared useless. Unwillingly does Dr. Paulus admit to himself the
presentiment that the reader of his Commentary may possibly exclaim:
“Wherefore all this labour to give an historical explanation to such
legends? how singular thus to handle mythi as history, and to attempt
to render marvellous fictions intelligible according to the rules of
causality!” Contrasted with the toilsomeness of his natural
explanation, the mythical interpretation appears to this theologian
merely as the refuge of mental indolence, which, seeking the easiest
method of treating the gospel history, disposes of all that is
marvellous, and all that is difficult to comprehend, under the vague
term—mythus, and which, in order to escape the labour of disengaging
the natural from the supernatural, fact from opinion, carries back the
whole narration into the camera-obscura of ancient sacred legends. [75]

Still more decided was Greiling’s [76] expression of disapprobation,
elicited by Krug’s commendation of the genetic—that is to say, mythical
theory; but each stroke levelled by him at the mythical interpretation
may be turned with far greater force against his own natural
explanation. He is of opinion that among all the attempts to explain
obscure passages in the New Testament, scarcely any can be more
injurious to the genuine historical interpretation, to the ascertaining
of actual facts and their legitimate objects (that is, more prejudicial
to the pretensions of the natural expounder) than the endeavour to
supply, by aid of an inventive imagination, the deficiencies of the
historical narrative. (The inventive imagination is that of the natural
interpreter, which suggests to him collateral incidents of which there
is no trace in the text. The imagination of the mythical interpreter is
not inventive; his part is merely the recognizing and detecting of the
fictitious.) According to Greiling the genetic, or mythical mode of
explaining miracles, is a needless and arbitrary invention of the
imagination. (Let a groping spirit of inquiry be added, and the natural
explanation is accurately depicted.) Many facts, he continues, which
might be retained as such are thus consigned to the province of fable,
or replaced by fictions the production of the interpreter. (But it is
the historical mythical mode of interpretation alone which substitutes
such inventions, and this only in so far as it is mixed up with the
natural explanation.) Greiling thinks that the explanation of a miracle
ought not to change the fact, and by means of interpretation, as by
sleight of hand, substitute one thing for another; (which is done by
the natural explanation only,) for this is not to explain that which
shocks the reason, but merely to deny the fact, and leave the
difficulty unsolved. (It is false to say we have a fact to explain;
what immediately lies before us is a statement, respecting which we
have to discover whether it embody a fact or not.) According to this
learned critic the miracles wrought by Jesus should be naturally, or
rather psychologically, explained; by which means all occasion to
change, clip, and amplify by invention the recorded facts, till at
length they become metamorphosed into fiction, is obviated—(with how
much justice this censure may be applied to the natural mode of
explanation has been sufficiently demonstrated.)

Heydenreich has lately written a work expressly on the inadmissibility
of the mythical interpretation of the historical portions of the New
Testament. He reviews the external evidences concerning the origin of
the Gospels, and finds the recognition of a mythical element in these
writings quite incompatible with their substantiated derivation from
the Apostles, and the disciples of the Apostles. He also examines the
character of the gospel representations, and decides, in reference to
their form, that narratives at once so natural and simple, so complete
and exact, could be expected only from eye-witnesses, or those
connected with them; and, with respect to their contents, that those
representations which are in their nature miraculous are so worthy of
God, that nothing short of an abhorrence of miracles could occasion a
doubt as to their historical truth. The divine operations are indeed
generally mediate, but according to Heydenreich this by no means
precludes the possibility of occasional intermediate exertions of the
divine energy, when requisite to the accomplishment of some particular
object; and, referring to each of the divine attributes in succession,
he shows that such intervention in nowise contradicts any of them; and
that each individual miracle is a peculiarly appropriate exercise of
divine power.

These, and similar objections against the mythical interpretation of
the gospel histories, which occur in recent commentaries and in the
numerous writings in opposition to my work on the life of Jesus, will
find their place and refutation in the following pages.

§ 13.

THE POSSIBILITY OF THE EXISTENCE OF MYTHI IN THE NEW TESTAMENT
CONSIDERED IN REFERENCE TO THE EXTERNAL EVIDENCES.

The assertion that the Bible contains mythi is, it is true, directly
opposed to the convictions of the believing christian. For if his
religious view be circumscribed within the limits of his own community,
he knows no reason why the things recorded in the sacred books should
not literally have taken place; no doubt occurs to him, no reflection
disturbs him. But, let his horizon be so far widened as to allow him to
contemplate his own religion in relation to other religions, and to
draw a comparison between them, the conclusion to which he then comes
is that the histories related by the heathens of their deities, and by
the Mussulman of his prophet, are so many fictions, whilst the accounts
of God’s actions, of Christ and other Godlike men contained in the
Bible are, on the contrary, true. Such is the general notion expressed
in the theological position: that which distinguishes Christianity from
the heathen religions is this, they are mythical, it is historical.

But this position, thus stated without further definition and proof, is
merely the product of the limitation of the individual to that form of
belief in which he has been educated, which renders the mind incapable
of embracing any but the affirmative view in relation to its own creed,
any but the negative in reference to every other—a prejudice devoid of
real worth, and which cannot exist in conjunction with an extensive
knowledge of history. For let us transplant ourselves among other
religious communities; the believing Mohammedan is of opinion that
truth is contained in the Koran alone, and that the greater portion of
our Bible is fabulous; the Jew of the present day, whilst admitting the
truth and divine origin of the Old Testament, rejects the New; and, the
same exclusive belief in the truth of their own creed and the falsity
of every other was entertained by the professors of most of the heathen
religions before the period of the Syncretism. But which community is
right? Not all, for this is impossible, since the assertion of each
excludes the others. But which particular one? Each claims for itself
the true faith. The pretensions are equal; what shall decide? The
origin of the several religions? Each lays claim to a divine origin.
Not only does the Christian religion profess to be derived from the Son
of God, and the Jewish from God himself, through Moses; the Mohammedan
religion asserts itself to be founded by a prophet immediately inspired
by God; in like manner the Greeks attributed the institution of their
worship to the gods.

“But in no other religion” it is urged “are the vouchers of a divine
origin so unequivocal as in the Jewish and the Christian. The Greek and
Roman mythologies are the product of a collection of unauthenticated
legends, whilst the Bible history was written by eye-witnesses; or by
those whose connexion with eye-witnesses afforded them opportunities of
ascertaining the truth; and whose integrity is too apparent to admit of
a doubt as to the sincerity of their intentions.” It would most
unquestionably be an argument of decisive weight in favour of the
credibility of the biblical history, could it indeed be shown that it
was written by eye-witnesses, or even by persons nearly contemporaneous
with the events narrated. For though errors and false representations
may glide into the narrations even of an eye-witness, there is far less
probability of unintentional mistake (intentional deception may easily
be detected) than where the narrator is separated by a long interval
from the facts he records, and is obliged to derive his materials
through the medium of transmitted communications.

But this alleged ocular testimony, or proximity in point of time of the
sacred historians to the events recorded, is mere assumption, an
assumption originating from the titles which the biblical books bear in
our Canon. Those books which describe the departure of the Israelites
from Egypt, and their wanderings through the wilderness, bear the name
of Moses, who being their leader would undoubtedly give a faithful
history of these occurrences, unless he designed to deceive; and who,
if his intimate connexion with Deity described in these books be
historically true, was likewise eminently qualified, by virtue of such
connexion, to produce a credible history of the earlier periods. In
like manner, of the several accounts of the life and fate of Jesus, the
superscriptions assign one to Matthew and one to John: two men who
having been eye-witnesses of the public ministry of Jesus from its
commencement to its close were particularly capable of giving a report
of it; and who, from their confidential intercourse with Jesus and his
mother, together with that supernatural aid which, according to John,
Jesus promised to his disciples to teach them and bring all things to
their remembrance, were enabled to give information of the
circumstances of his earlier years; of which some details are recorded
by Matthew.

But that little reliance can be placed on the headings of ancient
manuscripts, and of sacred records more especially, is evident, and in
reference to biblical books has long since been proved. In the
so-called books of Moses mention is made of his death and burial: but
who now supposes that this was written beforehand by Moses in the form
of prophecy? Many of the Psalms bear the name of David which presuppose
an acquaintance with the miseries of the exile; and predictions are put
into the mouth of Daniel, a Jew living at the time of the Babylonish
captivity, which could not have been written before the reign of
Antiochus Epiphanes. It is an incontrovertible position of modern
criticism that the titles of the Biblical books represent nothing more
than the design of their author, or the opinion of Jewish or Christian
antiquity respecting their origin; points the first of which proves
nothing; and as to the second every thing depends upon the following
considerations: 1. the date of the opinion and the authority on which
it rests; 2. the degree of harmony existing between this opinion and
the internal character of the writings in question. The first
consideration includes an examination of the external, the second of
the internal grounds of evidence respecting the authenticity of the
biblical books. To investigate the internal grounds of credibility in
relation to each detail given in the Gospels, (for it is with them
alone we are here concerned) and to test the probability or
improbability of their being the production of eye-witnesses, or of
competently informed writers, is the sole object of the present work.
The external grounds of evidence may be examined in this introduction,
only so far however as is necessary in order to judge whether they
yield a definite result, which may perhaps be in opposition to the
internal grounds of evidence; or whether the external evidence,
insufficient of itself, leaves to the internal evidence the decision of
the question.

We learn from the works of Irenæus, of Clemens Alexandrinus, and of
Tertullian, that at the end of the second century after Christ our four
Gospels were recognized by the orthodox church as the writings of the
Apostles and the disciples of the Apostles; and were separated from
many other similar productions as authentic records of the life of
Jesus. The first Gospel according to our Canon is attributed to
Matthew, who is enumerated among the twelve Apostles; the fourth to
John the beloved disciple of our Lord; the second to Mark the
interpreter of Peter; and the third to Luke the companion of Paul. [77]
We have, besides, the authority of earlier authors, both in their own
works and in quotations cited by others.

It is usual, in reference to the first Gospel, to adduce the testimony
of Papias, Bishop of Hierapolis, said to have been an auditor ἀκουστὴς
of John, (probably the presbyter) and to have suffered martyrdom under
Marcus Aurelius. (161–180.) Papias asserts that Matthew the Apostle
wrote τὰ λόγια (τὰ κυριακὰ [78]). Schleiermacher, straining the meaning
of λόγια, has latterly understood it to signify merely a collection of
the sayings of Jesus. But when Papias speaks of Mark, he seems to use
σύνταξιν τῶν κυριακῶν λογίων ποιεῖσθαι, and τὰ ὑπὸ τοῦ Χριστοῦ ἢ
λεχθέντα ἢ πραχθέντα γράφειν as equivalent expressions. Whence it
appears that the word λόγια designates a writing comprehending the acts
and fate of Jesus; and the fathers of the church were justified in
understanding the testimony of Papias as relating to an entire Gospel.
[79] They did indeed apply this testimony decidedly to our first
Gospel; but the words of the Apostolic father contain no such
indication, and the manuscript, of which he speaks, cannot be
absolutely identical with our Gospel; for, according to the statement
given by Papias, Matthew wrote in the Hebrew language; and it is a mere
assumption of the christian fathers that our Greek Matthew is a
translation of the original Hebrew Gospel [80]. Precepts of Jesus, and
narratives concerning him, corresponding more or less exactly with
passages in our Matthew, do indeed occur in the works of other of the
apostolic fathers; but then these works are not wholly genuine, and the
quotations themselves are either in a form which indicates that they
might have been derived from oral traditions; or where these authors
refer to written sources, they do not mention them as being directly
apostolic. Many citations in the writings of Justin Martyr (who died
166) agree with passages in our Matthew; but there are also, mixed up
with these, other elements which are not to be found in our Gospels;
and he refers to the writings from which he derives them generally as
ἀπομνημονεύματα τῶν αποστόλων, or εὐαγγέλια, without naming any author
in particular. Celsus, [81] the opponent of Christianity, (subsequent
to 150) mentions that the disciples of Jesus had written his history,
and he alludes to our present Gospels when he speaks of the divergence
of the accounts respecting the number of angels seen at the
resurrection; but we find no more precise reference to any one
Evangelist in his writings, so far as we know them through Origen.

We have the testimony of the same Papias who has the notice concerning
Matthew, a testimony from the mouth of John (πρεσβύτερος), that Mark,
who according to him was the interpreter of Peter (ἑρμηνευτὴς Πέτρου),
wrote down the discourses and actions of Jesus from his recollections
of the instructions of that Apostle. [82] Ecclesiastical writers have
likewise assumed that this passage from Papias refers to our second
Gospel, though it does not say any thing of the kind, and is besides
inapplicable to it. For our second Gospel cannot have originated from
recollections of Peter’s instructions, i.e., from a source peculiar to
itself, since it is evidently a compilation, whether made from memory
or otherwise, from the first and third Gospels. [83] As little will the
remark of Papias that Mark wrote without order (οὐ τάξει) apply to our
Gospel. For he cannot by this expression intend a false chronological
arrangement, since he ascribes to Mark the strictest love of truth,
which, united with the consciousness that he had not the means of
fixing dates, must have withheld him from making the attempt. But a
total renunciation of chronological connexion, which Papias can alone
have meant to attribute to him, is not to be found in the second
Gospel. This being the case, what do those echoes which our second
Gospel, in like manner as our first, seems to find in the most ancient
ecclesiastical writers, prove?

That Luke, the companion of Paul, wrote a Gospel, is not attested by
any authority of corresponding weight or antiquity with that of Papias
in relation to Matthew and to Mark. The third Gospel however possesses
a testimony of a particular kind in the “Acts of the Apostles;” not
indeed authenticating it as the composition of Luke, but attributing it
to an occasional companion of the Apostle Paul. According to the proëm
to the Acts and that to the Gospel of Luke, these two books proceeded
from the same author or compiler: an origin which these writings do
not, in other respects, contradict. In several chapters in the second
half of the Book of the Acts the author, speaking of himself together
with Paul, makes use of the first person plural, [84] and thus
identifies himself with the companion of that apostle. The fact is,
however, that many of the details concerning Paul, contained in other
parts of the book of the Acts, are so indefinite and marvellous, and
are moreover so completely at variance with Paul’s genuine epistles,
that it is extremely difficult to reconcile them with the notion that
they were written by a companion of that apostle. It is also not a
little remarkable that the author, neither in the introduction to the
Acts, nor in that to the Gospel, alludes to his connexion with one of
the most distinguished of the Apostles, so that it is impossible not to
suspect that the passages in which the writer speaks of himself as an
actor in the scenes described, belong to a distinct memorial by another
hand, which the author of the Acts has merely incorporated into his
history. But leaving this conjecture out of the question, it is indeed
possible that the companion of Paul may have composed his two works at
a time, and under circumstances, when he was no longer protected by
Apostolic influence against the tide of tradition; and that he saw no
reason why, because he had not heard them previously from this Apostle,
he should therefore reject the instructive, and (according to his
notions, which certainly would not lead him to shun the marvellous,)
credible narratives derived from that source. Now, it is asserted that
because the Book of the Acts terminates with the two years’
imprisonment of Paul at Rome, therefore this second work of the
disciple of that apostle, must have been written during that time,
(63–65, A.D.) before the decision of Paul’s trial, and that
consequently, the Gospel of Luke, the earlier work of the same author,
could not have been of later date. But, the breaking off of the Acts at
that particular point might have been the result of many other causes;
at all events such testimony, standing alone, is wholly insufficient to
decide the historical worth of the Gospel.

It were to be wished that Polycarp, (he died 167) who both heard and
saw the Apostle John, [85] had left us a testimony respecting him
similar to that of Papias concerning Matthew. Still his silence on this
subject, in the one short epistle which has come down to us, is no
evidence against the authenticity of that Gospel, any more than the
more or less ambiguous allusions in several of the Apostolic fathers to
the Epistles of John are proofs in its favour. But it is matter of
surprise that Irenæus the disciple of Polycarp, who was called upon to
defend this Gospel from the attacks of those who denied its composition
by John, should neither on this occasion, nor once in his diffuse work,
have brought forward the weighty authority of his Apostolic master, as
to this fact. Whether or not the fourth Gospel originally bore the name
of John remains uncertain. We meet with it first among the Valentinians
and the Montanists, about the middle of the second century. Its
Apostolic origin was however (immediately after) denied by the
so-called Alogi, who ascribed it to Cerinthus; partly because the
Montanists derived from it their idea of the Paraclete; partly also
because it did not harmonize with the other Gospels. [86] The earliest
quotation expressly stated to be from the Gospel of John is found in
Theophilus of Antioch, about the year 172. [87] How little reason the
numerous theologians of the present day have to boast of the evidences
in favour of the fourth Gospel, whilst they deny the not less well
attested Apocalypse, has been well remarked by Tholuck. Lastly, that
there were two Johns, the Apostle and the Presbyter, living
contemporaneously at Ephesus, is a circumstance which has not received
sufficient attention in connexion with the most ancient testimonies in
favour of the derivation from John, of the Apocalypse on the one hand,
and of the Gospels and Epistles on the other.

Thus these most ancient testimonies tell us, firstly, that an apostle,
or some other person who had been acquainted with an apostle, wrote a
Gospel history; but not whether it was identical with that which
afterwards came to be circulated in the church under his name;
secondly, that writings similar to our Gospels were in existence; but
not that they were ascribed with certainty to any one individual
apostle or companion of an apostle. Such is the uncertainty of these
accounts, which after all do not reach further back than the third or
fourth decade of the second century. According to all the rules of
probability, the Apostles were all dead before the close of the first
century; not excepting John, who is said to have lived till A.D. 100;
concerning whose age and death, however, many fables were early
invented. What an ample scope for attributing to the Apostles
manuscripts they never wrote! The Apostles, dispersed abroad, had died
in the latter half of the first century; the Gospel became more widely
preached throughout the Roman empire, and by degrees acquired a fixed
form in accordance with a particular type. It was doubtless from this
orally circulated Gospel that the many passages agreeing accurately
with passages in our Gospels, which occur without any indication of
their source in the earliest ecclesiastical writers, were actually
derived. Before long this oral traditionary Gospel became deposited in
different manuscripts: this person or that, possibly an apostle,
furnishing the principal features of the history. But these manuscripts
were not at first compiled according to a particular form and order,
and consequently had to undergo many revisions and re-arrangements, of
which we have an example in the Gospel of the Hebrews and the citations
of Justin. It appears that these manuscripts did not originally bear
the names of their compilers, but either that of the community by whom
they were first read, as the Gospel of Hebrews; or that of the Apostle
or disciple after whose oral discourses or notes some other person had
composed a connected history. The latter seems to have been the
original meaning attached to the word κατὰ; as in the title to our
first Gospel. [88] Nothing however was more natural than the
supposition which arose among the early christians, that the histories
concerning Jesus which were circulated and used by the churches had
been written by his immediate disciples. Hence the ascription of the
gospel writings generally to the apostles by Justin and by Celsus; and
also of particular gospels to those particular apostles and disciples,
whose oral discourses or written notes might possibly have formed the
groundwork of a gospel manuscript, or who had perhaps been particularly
connected with some certain district, or had been held in especial
esteem by some particular community. The Gospel of the Hebrews
successively received all three kinds of appellations; being first
called εὐαγγέλιον καθ’ Ἑβραίους, after the community by which it was
read; somewhat later, Evangelium juxta duodecim apostolos; and finally,
secundum Matthæum.

Admitting however that we do not possess the immediate record of an
eye-witness in any one of the four Gospels, it is still very
incomprehensible, replies the objector, how in Palestine itself, and at
a time when so many eye-witnesses yet lived, unhistorical legends and
even collections of them should have been formed. But, in the first
place, the fact that many such compilations of narratives concerning
the life of Jesus were already in general circulation during the
lifetime of the Apostles, and more especially that any one of our
gospels was known to an Apostle and acknowledged by him, can never be
proved. With respect to isolated anecdotes, it is only necessary to
form an accurate conception of Palestine and of the real position of
the eye-witnesses referred to, in order to understand that the
origination of legends, even at so early a period, is by no means
incomprehensible. Who informs us that they must necessarily have taken
root in that particular district of Palestine where Jesus tarried
longest, and where his actual history was well known? And with respect
to eye-witnesses, if by these we are to understand the Apostles, it is
to ascribe to them absolute ubiquity, to represent them as present here
and there, weeding out all the unhistorical legends concerning Jesus in
whatever places they had chanced to spring up and flourish.
Eye-witnesses in the more extended sense, who had only seen Jesus
occasionally and not been his constant companions, must, on the
contrary, have been strongly tempted to fill up their imperfect
knowledge of his history with mythical representations.

But it is inconceivable, they say, that such a mass of mythi should
have originated in an age so historical as that of the first Roman
emperors. We must not however be misled by too comprehensive a notion
of an historical age. The sun is not visible at the same instant to
every place on the same meridian at the same time of year; it gleams
upon the mountain summits and the high plains before it penetrates the
lower valleys and the deep ravines. No less true is it that the
historic age dawns not upon all people at the same period. The people
of highly civilized Greece, and of Rome the capital of the world, stood
on an eminence which had not been reached in Galilee and Judæa. Much
rather may we apply to this age an expression become trite among
historians, but which seems in the present instance willingly
forgotten: namely, that incredulity and superstition, scepticism and
fanaticism go hand in hand.

But the Jews, it is said, had long been accustomed to keep written
records; nay, the most flourishing period of their literature was
already past, they were no longer a progressing and consequently a
productive people, they were a nation verging to decay. But the fact
is, the pure historic idea was never developed among the Hebrews during
the whole of their political existence; their latest historical works,
such as the Books of the Maccabees, and even the writings of Josephus,
are not free from marvellous and extravagant tales. Indeed no just
notion of the true nature of history is possible, without a perception
of the inviolability of the chain of finite causes, and of the
impossibility of miracles. This perception which is wanting to so many
minds of our own day was still more deficient in Palestine, and indeed
throughout the Roman empire. And to a mind still open to the reception
of the marvellous, if it be once carried away by the tide of religious
enthusiasm, all things will appear credible, and should this enthusiasm
lay hold of a yet wider circle, it will awaken a new creative vigour,
even in a decayed people. To account for such an enthusiasm it is by no
means necessary to presuppose the gospel miracles as the existing
cause. This may be found in the known religious dearth of that period,
a dearth so great that the cravings of the mind after some religious
belief excited a relish for the most extravagant forms of worship;
secondly in the deep religious satisfaction which was afforded by the
belief in the resurrection of the deceased Messiah, and by the
essential principles of the doctrine of Jesus.

§ 14.

THE POSSIBILITY OF MYTHI IN THE NEW TESTAMENT CONSIDERED ON INTERNAL
GROUNDS.

Seeing from what has already been said that the external testimony
respecting the composition of our Gospels, far from forcing upon us the
conclusion that they proceeded from eye-witnesses or well-informed
contemporaries, leaves the decision to be determined wholly by internal
grounds of evidence, that is, by the nature of the Gospel narratives
themselves: we might immediately proceed from this introduction to the
peculiar object of the present work, which is an examination of those
narratives in detail. It may however appear useful, before entering
upon this special inquiry, to consider the general question, how far it
is consistent with the character of the Christian religion that mythi
should be found in it, and how far the general construction of the
Gospel narratives authorizes us to treat them as mythi. Although,
indeed, if the following critical examination of the details be
successful in proving the actual existence of mythi in the New
Testament, this preliminary demonstration of their possibility becomes
superfluous.

If with this view we compare the acknowledged mythical religions of
antiquity with the Hebrew and Christian, it is true that we are struck
by many differences between the sacred histories existing in these
religious forms and those in the former. Above all, it is commonly
alleged that the sacred histories of the Bible are distinguished from
the legends of the Indians, Greeks, Romans, etc., by their moral
character and excellence. “In the latter, the stories of the battles of
the gods, the loves of Krishna, Jupiter, etc., contain much which was
offensive to the moral feeling even of enlightened heathens, and which
is revolting to ours: whilst in the former, the whole course of the
narration, offers only what is worthy of God, instructive, and
ennobling.” To this it may be answered with regard to the heathens,
that the appearance of immorality in many of their narratives is merely
the consequence of a subsequent misconception of their original
meaning: and with regard to the Old Testament, that the perfect moral
purity of its history has been contested. Often indeed, it has been
contested without good grounds, because a due distinction is not made
between that which is ascribed to individual men, (who, as they are
represented, are by no means spotless examples of purity,) and that
which is ascribed to God: [89] nevertheless it is true that we have
commands called divine, which, like that to the Israelites on their
departure out of Egypt to purloin vessels of gold, are scarcely less
revolting to an enlightened moral feeling, than the thefts of the
Grecian Hermes. But even admitting this difference in the morality of
the religions to its full extent (and it must be admitted at least with
regard to the New Testament), still it furnishes no proof of the
historical character of the Bible; for though every story relating to
God which is immoral is necessarily fictitious, even the most moral is
not necessarily true.

“But that which is incredible and inconceivable forms the staple of the
heathen fables; whilst in the biblical history, if we only presuppose
the immediate intervention of the Deity, there is nothing of the kind.”
Exactly, if this be presupposed. Otherwise, we might very likely find
the miracles in the life of Moses, Elias, or Jesus, the Theophany and
Angelophany of the Old and New Testament, just as incredible as the
fables of Jupiter, Hercules, or Bacchus: presuppose the divinity or
divine descent of these individuals, and their actions and fate become
as credible as those of the biblical personages with the like
presupposition. Yet not quite so, it may be returned. Vishnu appearing
in his three first avatars as a fish, a tortoise, and a boar; Saturn
devouring his children; Jupiter turning himself into a bull, a swan,
etc.—these are incredibilities of quite another kind from Jehovah
appearing to Abraham in a human form under the terebinth tree, or to
Moses in the burning bush. This extravagant love of the marvellous is
the character of the heathen mythology. A similar accusation might
indeed be brought against many parts of the Bible, such as the tales of
Balaam, Joshua, and Samson; but still it is here less glaring, and does
not form as in the Indian religion and in certain parts of the Grecian,
the prevailing character. What however does this prove? Only that the
biblical history might be true, sooner than the Indian or Grecian
fables; not in the least that on this account it must be true, and can
contain nothing fictitious.

“But the subjects of the heathen mythology are for the most part such,
as to convince us beforehand that they are mere inventions: those of
the Bible such as at once to establish their own reality. A Brahma, an
Ormusd, a Jupiter, without doubt never existed; but there still is a
God, a Christ, and there have been an Adam, a Noah, an Abraham, a
Moses.” Whether an Adam or a Noah, however, were such as they are
represented, has already been doubted, and may still be doubted. Just
so, on the other side, there may have been something historical about
Hercules, Theseus, Achilles, and other heroes of Grecian story. Here,
again, we come to the decision that the biblical history might be true
sooner than the heathen mythology, but is not necessarily so. This
decision however, together with the two distinctions already made,
brings us to an important observation. How do the Grecian divinities
approve themselves immediately to us as non-existing beings, if not
because things are ascribed to them which we cannot reconcile with our
idea of the divine? whilst the God of the Bible is a reality to us just
in so far as he corresponds with the idea we have formed of him in our
own minds. Besides the contradiction to our notion of the divine
involved in the plurality of heathen gods, and the intimate description
of their motives and actions, we are at once revolted to find that the
gods themselves have a history; that they are born, grow up, marry,
have children, work out their purposes, suffer difficulties and
weariness, conquer and are conquered. It is irreconcileable with our
idea of the Absolute to suppose it subjected to time and change, to
opposition and suffering; and therefore where we meet with a narrative
in which these are attributed to a divine being, by this test we
recognize it as unhistorical or mythical.

It is in this sense that the Bible, and even the Old Testament, is said
to contain no mythi. The story of the creation with its succession of
each day’s labour ending in a rest after the completion of the task;
the expression often recurring in the farther course of the narrative,
God repented of having done so and so;—these and similar
representations cannot indeed be entirely vindicated from the charge of
making finite the nature of the Deity, and this is the ground which has
been taken by mythical interpreters of the history of the creation. And
in every other instance where God is said to reveal himself exclusively
at any definite place or time, by celestial apparition, or by miracle
wrought immediately by himself, it is to be presumed that the Deity has
become finite and descended to human modes of operation. It may however
be said in general, that in the Old Testament the divine nature does
not appear to be essentially affected by the temporal character of its
operation, but that the temporal shows itself rather as a mere form, an
unavoidable appearance, arising out of the necessary limitation of
human, and especially of uncultivated powers of representation. It is
obvious to every one, that there is something quite different in the
Old Testament declarations, that God made an alliance with Noah, and
Abraham, led his people out of Egypt, gave them laws, brought them into
the promised land, raised up for them judges, kings, and prophets, and
punished them at last for their disobedience by exile;—from the tales
concerning Jupiter, that he was born of Rhea in Crete, and hidden from
his father Saturn in a cave; that afterwards he made war upon his
father, freed the Uranides, and with their help and that of the
lightning with which they furnished him, overcame the rebellious
Titans, and at last divided the world amongst his brothers and
children. The essential difference between the two representations is,
that in the latter, the Deity himself is the subject of progression,
becomes another being at the end of the process from what he was at the
beginning, something being effected in himself and for his own sake:
whilst in the former, change takes place only on the side of the world;
God remains fixed in his own identity as the I AM, and the temporal is
only a superficial reflection cast back upon his acting energy by that
course of mundane events which he both originated and guides. In the
heathen mythology the gods have a history: in the Old Testament, God
himself has none, but only his people: and if the proper meaning of
mythology be the history of gods, then the Hebrew religion has no
mythology.

From the Hebrew religion, this recognition of the divine unity and
immutability was transmitted to the Christian. The birth, growth,
miracles, sufferings, death, and resurrection of Christ, are
circumstances belonging to the destiny of the Messiah, above which God
remains unaffected in his own changeless identity. The New Testament
therefore knows nothing of mythology in the above sense. The state of
the question is however somewhat changed from that which it assumed in
the Old Testament: for Jesus is called the Son of God, not merely in
the same sense as kings under the theocracy were so called, but as
actually begotten by the divine spirit, or from the incarnation in his
person of the divine λόγος. Inasmuch as he is one with the Father, and
in him the whole fullness of the godhead dwells bodily, he is more than
Moses. The actions and sufferings of such a being are not external to
the Deity: though we are not allowed to suppose a theopaschitic union
with the divine nature, yet still, even in the New Testament, and more
in the later doctrine of the Church, it is a divine being that here
lives and suffers, and what befals him has an absolute worth and
significance. Thus according to the above accepted notion of the
mythus, the New Testament has more of a mythical character than the
Old. But to call the history of Jesus mythical in this sense, is as
unimportant with regard to the historical question as it is
unexceptionable; for the idea of God is in no way opposed to such an
intervention in human affairs as does not affect his own immutability;
so that as far as regards this point, the gospel history,
notwithstanding its mythical designation, might be at the same time
throughout historically true.

Admitting that the biblical history does not equally with the heathen
mythology offend our idea of Deity, and that consequently it is not in
like manner characterized by this mark of the unhistorical, however far
it be from bearing any guarantee of being historical,—we are met by the
further question whether it be not less accordant with our idea of the
world, and whether such discordancy may not furnish a test of its
unhistorical nature.

In the ancient world, that is, in the east, the religious tendency was
so preponderating, and the knowledge of nature so limited, that the law
of connexion between earthly finite beings was very loosely regarded.
At every link there was a disposition to spring into the Infinite, and
to see God as the immediate cause of every change in nature or the
human mind. In this mental condition the biblical history was written.
Not that God is here represented as doing all and every thing
himself:—a notion which, from the manifold direct evidence of the
fundamental connexion between finite things, would be impossible to any
reasonable mind:—but there prevails in the biblical writers a ready
disposition to derive all things down to the minutest details, as soon
as they appear particularly important, immediately from God. He it is
who gives the rain and sunshine; he sends the east wind and the storm;
he dispenses war, famine, pestilence; he hardens hearts and softens
them, suggests thoughts and resolutions. And this is particularly the
case with regard to his chosen instruments and beloved people. In the
history of the Israelites we find traces of his immediate agency at
every step: through Moses, Elias, Jesus, he performs things which never
would have happened in the ordinary course of nature.

Our modern world, on the contrary, after many centuries of tedious
research, has attained a conviction, that all things are linked
together by a chain of causes and effects, which suffers no
interruption. It is true that single facts and groups of facts, with
their conditions and processes of change, are not so circumscribed as
to be unsusceptible of external influence; for the action of one
existence or kingdom in nature intrenches on that of another: human
freedom controls natural development, and material laws react on human
freedom. Nevertheless the totality of finite things forms a vast
circle, which, except that it owes its existence and laws to a superior
power, suffers no intrusion from without. This conviction is so much a
habit of thought with the modern world, that in actual life, the belief
in a supernatural manifestation, an immediate divine agency, is at once
attributed to ignorance or imposture. It has been carried to the
extreme in that modern explanation, which, in a spirit exactly opposed
to that of the Bible, has either totally removed the divine causation,
or has so far restricted it that it is immediate in the act of creation
alone, but mediate from that point onwards;—i.e., God operates on the
world only in so far as he gave to it this fixed direction at the
creation. From this point of view, at which nature and history appear
as a compact tissue of finite causes and effects, it was impossible to
regard the narratives of the Bible, in which this tissue is broken by
innumerable instances of divine interference, as historical.

It must be confessed on nearer investigation, that this modern
explanation, although it does not exactly deny the existence of God,
yet puts aside the idea of him, as the ancient view did the idea of the
world. For this is, as it has been often and well remarked, no longer a
God and Creator, but a mere finite Artist, who acts immediately upon
his work only during its first production, and then leaves it to
itself; who becomes excluded with his full energy from one particular
sphere of existence. It has therefore been attempted to unite the two
views so as to maintain for the world its law of sequence, and for God
his unlimited action, and by this means to preserve the truth of the
biblical history. According to this view, the world is supposed to move
in obedience to the law of consecutive causes and effects bound up with
its constitution, and God to act upon it only mediately: but in single
instances, where he finds it necessary for particular objects, he is
not held to be restricted from entering into the course of human
changes immediately. This is the view of modern Supranaturalism [90];
evidently a vain attempt to reconcile two opposite views, since it
contains the faults of both, and adds a new one in the contradiction
between the two ill-assorted principles. For here the consecutiveness
of nature and history is broken through as in the ancient biblical
view; and the action of God limited as in the contrary system. The
proposition that God works sometimes mediately, sometimes immediately,
upon the world, introduces a changeableness, and therefore a temporal
element, into the nature of his action, which brings it under the same
condemnation as both the other systems; that, namely, of distinguishing
the maintaining power, in the one case from individual instances of the
divine agency, and in the other from the act of creation. [91]

Since then our idea of God requires an immediate, and our idea of the
world a mediate divine operation; and since the idea of combination of
the two species of action is inadmissible:—nothing remains for us but
to regard them both as so permanently and immoveably united, that the
operation of God on the world continues for ever and every where
twofold, both immediate and mediate; which comes just to this, that it
is neither of the two, or this distinction loses its value. To explain
more closely: if we proceed from the idea of God, from which arose the
demand for his immediate operation, then the world is to be regarded in
relation to him as a Whole: on the contrary, if we proceed from the
idea of the finite, the world is a congeries of separate parts, and
hence has arisen the demand for a merely mediate agency of God:—so that
we must say—God acts upon the world as a Whole immediately, but on each
part only by means of his action on every other part, that is to say,
by the laws of nature. [92]

This view brings us to the same conclusion with regard to the
historical value of the Bible as the one above considered. The miracles
which God wrought for and by Moses and Jesus, do not proceed from his
immediate operation on the Whole, but presuppose an immediate action in
particular cases, which is a contradiction to the type of the divine
agency we have just given. The supranaturalists indeed claim an
exception from this type on behalf of the biblical history; a
presupposition which is inadmissible from our point of view [93],
according to which the same laws, although varied by various
circumstances, are supreme in every sphere of being and action, and
therefore every narrative which offends against these laws, is to be
recognized as so far unhistorical.

The result, then, however surprising, of a general examination of the
biblical history, is that the Hebrew and Christian religions, like all
others, have their mythi. And this result is confirmed, if we consider
the inherent nature of religion, what essentially belongs to it and
therefore must be common to all religions, and what on the other hand
is peculiar and may differ in each. If religion be defined as the
perception of truth, not in the form of an idea, which is the
philosophic perception, but invested with imagery; it is easy to see
that the mythical element can be wanting only when religion either
falls short of, or goes beyond, its peculiar province, and that in the
proper religious sphere it must necessarily exist.

It is only amongst the lowest and most barbarous people, such as the
Esquimaux, that we find religion not yet fashioned into an objective
form, but still confined to a subjective feeling. They know nothing of
gods, of superior spirits and powers, and their whole piety consists in
an undefined sentiment excited by the hurricane, the eclipse, or the
magician. As it progresses however, the religious principle loses more
and more of this indefiniteness, and ceasing to be subjective, becomes
objective. In the sun, moon, mountains, animals, and other objects of
the sensible world, higher powers are discovered and revered; and in
proportion as the significance given to these objects is remote from
their actual nature, a new world of mere imagination is created, a
sphere of divine existences whose relations to one another, actions,
and influences, can be represented only after human analogy, and
therefore as temporal and historical. Even when the mind has raised
itself to the conception of the Divine unity, still the energy and
activity of God are considered only under the form of a series of acts:
and on the other hand, natural events and human actions can be raised
to a religious significance only by the admission of divine
interpositions and miracles. It is only from the philosophic point of
view that the world of imagination is seen again to coincide with the
actual, because the thought of God is comprehended to be his essence,
and in the regular course itself of nature and of history, the
revelation of the divine idea is acknowledged.

It is certainly difficult to conceive, how narratives which thus speak
of imagination as reality can have been formed without intentional
deceit, and believed without unexampled credulity; and this difficulty
has been held an invincible objection to the mythical interpretation of
many of the narratives of the Old and New Testament. If this were the
case, it would apply equally to the Heathen legends; and on the other
hand, if profane Mythology have steered clear of the difficulty,
neither will that of the Bible founder upon it. I shall here quote at
length the words of an experienced inquirer into Grecian mythology and
primitive history, Otfried Müller, since it is evident that this
preliminary knowledge of the subject which must be derived from general
mythology, and which is necessary for the understanding of the
following examination of the evangelic mythus, is not yet familiar to
all theologians. “How,” says Müller [94], “shall we reconcile this
combination of the true and the false, the real and ideal, in mythi,
with the fact of their being believed and received as truth? The ideal,
it may be said, is nothing else than poetry and fiction clothed in the
form of a narration. But a fiction of this kind cannot be invented at
the same time by many different persons without a miracle, requiring,
as it does, a peculiar coincidence of intention, imagination, and
expression. It is therefore the work of one person:—but how did he
convince all the others that his fiction had an actual truth? Shall we
suppose him to have been one who contrived to delude by all kinds of
trickery and deception, and perhaps allied himself with similar
deceivers, whose part it was to afford attestation to the people of his
inventions as having been witnessed by themselves? Or shall we think of
him as a man of higher endowments than others, who believed him upon
his word; and received the mythical tales under whose veil he sought to
impart wholesome truths, as a sacred revelation? But it is impossible
to prove that such a caste of deceivers existed in ancient Greece (or
Palestine); on the contrary, this skilful system of deception, be it
gross or refined, selfish or philanthropic, if we are not misled by the
impression we have received from the earliest productions of the
Grecian (or Christian) mind, is little suited to the noble simplicity
of those times. Hence an inventer of the mythus in the proper sense of
the word is inconceivable. This reasoning brings us to the conclusion,
that the idea of a deliberate and intentional fabrication, in which the
author clothes that which he knows to be false in the appearance of
truth, must be entirely set aside as insufficient to account for the
origin of the mythus. Or in other words, that there is a certain
necessity in this connexion between the ideal and the real, which
constitutes the mythus; that the mythical images were formed by the
influence of sentiments common to all mankind; and that the different
elements grew together without the author’s being himself conscious of
their incongruity. It is this notion of a certain necessity and
unconsciousness in the formation of the ancient mythi, on which we
insist. If this be once understood, it will also be perceived that the
contention whether the mythus proceed from one person or many, from the
poet or the people, though it may be started on other grounds, does not
go to the root of the matter. For if the one who invents the mythus is
only obeying the impulse which acts also upon the minds of his hearers,
he is but the mouth through which all speak, the skilful interpreter
who has the address first to give form and expression to the thoughts
of all. It is however very possible that this notion of necessity and
unconsciousness, might appear itself obscure and mystical to our
antiquarians (and theologians), from no other reason than that this
mythicising tendency has no analogy in the present mode of thinking.
But is not history to acknowledge even what is strange, when led to it
by unprejudiced research?”

As an example to show that even very complicated mythi, in the
formation of which many apparently remote circumstances must have
combined, may yet have arisen in this unconscious manner, Müller then
refers to the Grecian mythus of Apollo and Marsyas. “It was customary
to celebrate the festivals of Apollo with playing on the lyre, and it
was necessary to piety, that the god himself should be regarded as its
author. In Phrygia, on the contrary, the national music was the flute,
which was similarly derived from a demon of their own, named Marsyas.
The ancient Grecians perceived that the tones of these two instruments
were essentially opposed: the harsh shrill piping of the flute must be
hateful to Apollo, and therefore Marsyas his enemy. This was not
enough: in order that the lyre-playing Grecian might flatter himself
that the invention of his god was the more excellent instrument, Apollo
must triumph over Marsyas. But why was it necessary in particular that
the unlucky Phrygian should be flayed? Here is the simple origin of the
mythus. Near the castle of Celœne in Phrygia, in a cavern whence flowed
a stream or torrent named Marsyas, was suspended a skin flask, called
by the Phrygians, the bottle of Marsyas; for Marsyas was, like the
Grecian Silenus, a demi-god symbolizing the exuberance of the juices of
nature. Now where a Grecian, or a Phrygian with Grecian prepossessions,
looked on the bottle, he plainly saw the catastrophe of Marsyas; here
was still suspended his skin, which had been torn off and made into a
bottle:—Apollo had flayed him. In all this there is no arbitrary
invention: the same ideas might have occurred to many, and if one first
gave expression to them, he knew well that his auditors, imbued with
the same prepossessions, would not for an instant doubt his accuracy.”

“The chief reason of the complicated character of mythi in general, is
their having been formed for the most part, not at once, but
successively and by degrees, under the influence of very different
circumstances and events both external and internal. The popular
traditions, being orally transmitted and not restricted by any written
document, were open to receive every new addition, and thus grew in the
course of long centuries to the form in which we now find them. (How
far this applies to a great part of the New Testament mythi, will be
shown hereafter.) This is an important and luminous fact, which however
is very frequently overlooked in the explanation of mythi; for they are
regarded as allegories invented by one person, at one stroke, with the
definite purpose of investing a thought in the form of a narration.”

The view thus expressed by Müller, that the mythus is founded not upon
any individual conception, but upon the more elevated and general
conception of a whole people (or religious community), is said by a
competent judge of Müller’s work to be the necessary condition for a
right understanding of the ancient mythus, the admission or rejection
of which henceforth ranges the opinions on mythology into two opposite
divisions. [95]

It is not however easy to draw a line of distinction between
intentional and unintentional fiction. In the case where a fact lay at
the foundation, which, being the subject of popular conversation and
admiration, in the course of time formed itself into a mythus, we
readily dismiss all notion of wilful fraud, at least in its origin. For
a mythus of this kind is not the work of one man, but of a whole body
of men, and of succeeding generations; the narrative passing from mouth
to mouth, and like a snowball growing by the involuntary addition of
one exaggerating feature from this, and another from that narrator. In
time however these legends are sure to fall into the way of some gifted
minds, which will be stimulated by them to the exercise of their own
poetical, religious, or didactic powers. Most of the mythical
narratives which have come down to us from antiquity, such as the
Trojan, and the Mosaic series of legends, are presented to us in this
elaborated form. Here then it would appear there must have been
intentional deception: this however is only the result of an erroneous
assumption. It is almost impossible, in a critical and enlightened age
like our own, to carry ourselves back to a period of civilization in
which the imagination worked so powerfully, that its illusions were
believed as realities by the very minds that created them. Yet the very
same miracles which are wrought in less civilized circles by the
imagination, are produced in the more cultivated by the understanding.
Let us take one of the best didactic historians of ancient or modern
times, Livy, as an example. “Numa,” he says, “gave to the Romans a
number of religious ceremonies, ne luxuriarentur otio animi, and
because he regarded religion as the best means of bridling multitudinem
imperitam et illis seculis rudem. Idem,” he continues, “nefastos dies
fastosque fecit, quia aliquando nihil cum populo agi utile futurum
erat.” [96] How did Livy know that these were the motives of Numa? In
point of fact they certainly were not. But Livy believed them to be so.
The inference of his own understanding appeared to him so necessary,
that he treated it with full conviction as an actual fact. The popular
legend, or some ancient poet, had explained this fertility of religious
invention in Numa otherwise; namely, that it arose from his
communication with the nymph Egeria, who revealed to him the forms of
worship that would be most acceptable to the gods. It is obvious, that
the case is pretty nearly the same with regard to both representations.
If the latter had an individual author, it was his opinion that the
historical statement could be accounted for only upon the supposition
of a communication with a superior being; as it was that of Livy, that
its explanation must lie in political views. The one mistook the
production of his imagination, the other the inference of his
understanding, for reality.

Perhaps it may be admitted that there is a possibility of unconscious
fiction, even when an individual author is assigned to it, provided
that the mythical consists only in the filling up and adorning some
historical event with imaginary circumstances: but that where the whole
story is invented, and not any historical nucleus is to be found, this
unconscious fiction is impossible. Whatever view may be taken of the
heathen mythology, it is easy to show with regard to the New Testament,
that there was the greatest antecedent probability of this very kind of
fiction having arisen respecting Jesus without any fraudulent
intention. The expectation of a Messiah had grown up amongst the
Israelitish people long before the time of Jesus, and just then had
ripened to full maturity. And from its beginning this expectation was
not indefinite, but determined, and characterized by many important
particulars. Moses was said to have promised his people a prophet like
unto himself (Deut. xviii. 15), and this passage was in the time of
Jesus applied to the Messiah (Acts iii. 22; vii. 37). Hence the
rabbinical principle: as the first redeemer (Goël), so shall be the
second; which principle was carried out into many particulars to be
expected in the Messiah after his prototype Moses. [97] Again, the
Messiah was to come of the race of David, and as a second David take
possession of his throne (Matt. xxii. 42; Luke i. 32; Acts ii. 30): and
therefore in the time of Jesus it was expected that he, like David,
should be born in the little village of Bethlehem (John vii. 42; Matt.
ii. 5 f.). In the above passage Moses describes the supposed Messiah as
a prophet; so in his own idea, Jesus was the greatest and last of the
prophetic race. But in the old national legends the prophets were made
illustrious by the most wonderful actions and destiny. How could less
be expected of the Messiah? Was it not necessary beforehand, that his
life should be adorned with that which was most glorious and important
in the lives of the prophets? Must not the popular expectation give him
a share in the bright portion of their history, as subsequently the
sufferings of himself and his disciples were attributed by Jesus, when
he appeared as the Messiah, to a participation in the dark side of the
fate of the prophets (Matt. xxiii. 29 ff.; Luke xiii. 33 ff.; comp.
Matt. v. 12)? Believing that Moses and all the prophets had prophesied
of the Messiah (John v. 46; Luke iv. 21; xxiv. 27), it was as natural
for the Jews, with their allegorizing tendency, to consider their
actions and destiny as types of the Messiah, as to take their sayings
for predictions. In general the whole Messianic era was expected to be
full of signs and wonders. The eyes of the blind should be opened, the
ears of the deaf should be unclosed, the lame should leap, and the
tongue of the dumb praise God (Isa. xxxv. 5 f.; xlii. 7; comp. xxxii.
3, 4). These merely figurative expressions soon came to be understood
literally (Matt. xi. 5; Luke vii. 21 f.), and thus the idea of the
Messiah was continually filled up with new details, even before the
appearance of Jesus. [98] Thus many of the legends respecting him had
not to be newly invented; they already existed in the popular hope of
the Messiah, having been mostly derived with various modifications [99]
from the Old Testament, and had merely to be transferred to Jesus,
[100] and accommodated to his character and doctrines. In no case could
it be easier for the person who first added any new feature to the
description of Jesus, to believe himself its genuineness, since his
argument would be: Such and such things must have happened to the
Messiah; Jesus was the Messiah; therefore such and such things happened
to him. [101]

Truly it may be said that the middle term of this argument, namely,
that Jesus was the Messiah, would have failed in proof to his
contemporaries all the more on account of the common expectation of
miraculous events, if that expectation had not been fulfilled by him.
But the following critique on the Life of Jesus does not divest it of
all those features to which the character of miraculous has been
appropriated: and besides we must take into account the overwhelming
impression which was made upon those around him by the personal
character and discourse of Jesus, as long as he was living amongst
them, which did not permit them deliberately to scrutinize and compare
him with their previous standard. The belief in him as the Messiah
extended to wider circles only by slow degrees; and even during his
lifetime the people may have reported many wonderful stories of him
(comp. Matt. xiv. 2). After his death, however, the belief in his
resurrection, however that belief may have arisen, afforded a more than
sufficient proof of his Messiahship; so that all the other miracles in
his history need not be considered as the foundation of the faith in
this, but may rather be adduced as the consequence of it.

It is however by no means necessary to attribute this same freedom from
all conscious intention of fiction, to the authors of all those
narratives in the Old and New Testament which must be considered as
unhistorical. In every series of legends, especially if any patriotic
or religious party interest is associated with them, as soon as they
become the subject of free poetry or any other literary composition,
some kind of fiction will be intentionally mixed up with them. The
authors of the Homeric songs could not have believed that every
particular which they related of their gods and heroes had really
happened; and just as little could the writer of the Chronicles have
been ignorant that in his deviation from the books of Samuel and of the
Kings, he was introducing many events of later occurrence into an
earlier period; or the author of the book of Daniel [102] that he was
modelling his history upon that of Joseph, and accommodating prophecies
to events already past; and exactly as little may this be said of all
the unhistorical narratives of the Gospels, as for example, of the
first chapter of the third, and many parts of the fourth Gospel. But a
fiction, although not undesigned, may still be without evil design. It
is true, the case is not the same with the supposed authors of many
fictions in the Bible, as with poets properly so called, since the
latter write without any expectation that their poems will be received
as history: but still it is to be considered that in ancient times, and
especially amongst the Hebrews, and yet more when this people was
stirred up by religious excitement, the line of distinction between
history and fiction, prose and poetry, was not drawn so clearly as with
us. It is a fact also deserving attention that amongst the Jews and
early Christians, the most reputable authors published their works with
the substitution of venerated names, without an idea that they were
guilty of any falsehood or deception by so doing.

The only question that can arise here is whether to such fictions, the
work of an individual, we can give the name of mythi? If we regard only
their own intrinsic nature, the name is not appropriate; but it is so
when these fictions, having met with faith, come to be received amongst
the legends of a people or religious party, for this is always a proof
that they were the fruit, not of any individual conception, but of an
accordance with the sentiments of a multitude. [103]

A frequently raised objection remains, for the refutation of which the
remarks above made, upon the date of the origin of many of the gospel
mythi, are mainly important: the objection, namely, that the space of
about thirty years, from the death of Jesus to the destruction of
Jerusalem, during which the greater part of the narratives must have
been formed; or even the interval extending to the beginning of the
second century, the most distant period which can be allowed for the
origin of even the latest of these gospel narratives, and for the
written composition of our gospels;—is much too short to admit of the
rise of so rich a collection of mythi. But, as we have shown, the
greater part of these mythi did not arise during that period, for their
first foundation was laid in the legends of the Old Testament, before
and after the Babylonish exile; and the transference of these legends
with suitable modifications to the expected Messiah, was made in the
course of the centuries which elapsed between that exile and the time
of Jesus. So that for the period between the formation of the first
Christian community and the writing of the Gospels, there remains to be
effected only the transference of Messianic legends, almost all ready
formed, to Jesus, with some alterations to adapt them to christian
opinions, and to the individual character and circumstances of Jesus:
only a very small proportion of mythi having to be formed entirely new.

§ 15.

DEFINITION OF THE EVANGELICAL MYTHUS AND ITS DISTINCTIVE
CHARACTERISTICS.

The precise sense in which we use the expression mythus, applied to
certain parts of the gospel history, is evident from all that has
already been said; at the same time the different kinds and gradations
of the mythi which we shall meet with in this history may here by way
of anticipation be pointed out.

We distinguish by the name evangelical mythus a narrative relating
directly or indirectly to Jesus, which may be considered not as the
expression of a fact, but as the product of an idea of his earliest
followers: such a narrative being mythical in proportion as it exhibits
this character. The mythus in this sense of the term meets us, in the
Gospel as elsewhere, sometimes in its pure form, constituting the
substance of the narrative, and sometimes as an accidental adjunct to
the actual history.

The pure mythus in the Gospel will be found to have two sources, which
in most cases contributed simultaneously, though in different
proportions, to form the mythus. The one source is, as already stated,
the Messianic ideas and expectations existing according to their
several forms in the Jewish mind before Jesus, and independently of
him; the other is that particular impression which was left by the
personal character, actions, and fate of Jesus, and which served to
modify the Messianic idea in the minds of his people. The account of
the Transfiguration, for example, is derived almost exclusively from
the former source; the only amplification taken from the latter source
being—that they who appeared with Jesus on the Mount spake of his
decease. On the other hand, the narrative of the rending of the veil of
the temple at the death of Jesus seems to have had its origin in the
hostile position which Jesus, and his church after him, sustained in
relation to the Jewish temple worship. Here already we have something
historical, though consisting merely of certain general features of
character, position, etc.; we are thus at once brought upon the ground
of the historical mythus.

The historical mythus has for its groundwork a definite individual fact
which has been seized upon by religious enthusiasm, and twined around
with mythical conceptions culled from the idea of the Christ. This fact
is perhaps a saying of Jesus such as that concerning “fishers of men”
or the barren fig-tree, which now appear in the Gospels transmuted into
marvellous histories: or, it is perhaps a real transaction or event
taken from his life; for instance, the mythical traits in the account
of the baptism were built upon such a reality. Certain of the
miraculous histories may likewise have had some foundation in natural
occurrences, which the narrative has either exhibited in a supernatural
light, or enriched with miraculous incidents.

All the species of imagery here enumerated may justly be designated as
mythi, even according to the modern and precise definition of George,
inasmuch as the unhistorical which they embody—whether formed gradually
by tradition, or created by an individual author—is in each case the
product of an idea. But for those parts of the history which are
characterized by indefiniteness and want of connexion, by
misconstruction and transformation, by strange combinations and
confusion,—the natural results of a long course of oral transmission;
or which, on the contrary, are distinguished by highly coloured and
pictorial representations, which also seem to point to a traditionary
origin;—for these parts the term legendary is certainly the more
appropriate.

Lastly. It is requisite to distinguish equally from the mythus and the
legend, that which, as it serves not to clothe an idea on the one hand,
and admits not of being referred to tradition on the other, must be
regarded as the addition of the author, as purely individual, and
designed merely to give clearness, connexion, and climax, to the
representation.

It is to the various forms of the unhistorical in the Gospels that this
enumeration exclusively refers: it does not involve the renunciation of
the historical which they may likewise contain.

§ 16.

CRITERIA BY WHICH TO DISTINGUISH THE UNHISTORICAL IN THE GOSPEL
NARRATIVE.

Having shown the possible existence of the mythical and the legendary
in the Gospels, both on extrinsic and intrinsic grounds, and defined
their distinctive characteristics, it remains in conclusion to inquire
how their actual presence may be recognised in individual cases?

The mythus presents two phases: in the first place it is not history;
in the second it is fiction, the product of the particular mental
tendency of a certain community. These two phases afford the one a
negative, the other a positive criterion, by which the mythus is to be
recognised.

I. Negative. That an account is not historical—that the matter related
could not have taken place in the manner described is evident,

First. When the narration is irreconcilable with the known and
universal laws which govern the course of events. Now according to
these laws, agreeing with all just philosophical conceptions and all
credible experience, the absolute cause never disturbs the chain of
secondary causes by single arbitrary acts of interposition, but rather
manifests itself in the production of the aggregate of finite
causalities, and of their reciprocal action. When therefore we meet
with an account of certain phenomena or events of which it is either
expressly stated or implied that they were produced immediately by God
himself (divine apparitions—voices from heaven and the like), or by
human beings possessed of supernatural powers (miracles, prophecies),
such an account is in so far to be considered as not historical. And
inasmuch as, in general, the intermingling of the spiritual world with
the human is found only in unauthentic records, and is irreconcilable
with all just conceptions; so narratives of angels and of devils, of
their appearing in human shape and interfering with human concerns,
cannot possibly be received as historical.

Another law which controls the course of events is the law of
succession, in accordance with which all occurrences, not excepting the
most violent convulsions and the most rapid changes, follow in a
certain order of sequence of increase and decrease. If therefore we are
told of a celebrated individual that he attracted already at his birth
and during his childhood that attention which he excited in his
manhood; that his followers at a single glance recognized him as being
all that he actually was; if the transition from the deepest
despondency to the most ardent enthusiasm after his death is
represented as the work of a single hour; we must feel more than
doubtful whether it is a real history which lies before us. Lastly, all
those psychological laws, which render it improbable that a human being
should feel, think, and act in a manner directly opposed to his own
habitual mode and that of men in general, must be taken into
consideration. As for example, when the Jewish Sanhedrim are
represented as believing the declaration of the watch at the grave that
Jesus was risen, and instead of accusing them of having suffered the
body to be stolen away whilst they were asleep, bribing them to give
currency to such a report. By the same rule it is contrary to all the
laws belonging to the human faculty of memory, that long discourses,
such as those of Jesus given in the fourth Gospel, could have been
faithfully recollected and reproduced.

It is however true that effects are often far more rapidly produced,
particularly in men of genius and by their agency, than might be
expected; and that human beings frequently act inconsequently, and in
opposition to their general modes and habits; the two last mentioned
tests of the mythical character must therefore be cautiously applied,
and in conjunction only with other tests.

Secondly. An account which shall be regarded as historically valid,
must neither be inconsistent with itself, nor in contradiction with
other accounts.

The most decided case falling under this rule, amounting to a positive
contradiction, is when one account affirms what another denies. Thus,
one gospel represents the first appearance of Jesus in Galilee as
subsequent to the imprisonment of John the Baptist, whilst another
Gospel remarks, long after Jesus had preached both in Galilee and in
Judea, that “John was not yet cast into prison.”

When on the contrary, the second account, without absolutely
contradicting the first, differs from it, the disagreement may be
merely between the incidental particulars of the narrative; such as
time, (the clearing of the Temple,) place, (the original residence of
the parents of Jesus;) number, (the Gadarenes, the angels at the
sepulchre;) names, (Matthew and Levi;) or it may concern the essential
substance of the history. In the latter case, sometimes the character
and circumstances in one account differ altogether from those in
another. Thus, according to one narrator, the Baptist recognizes Jesus
as the Messiah destined to suffer; according to the other, John takes
offence at his suffering condition. Sometimes an occurrence is
represented in two or more ways, of which one only can be consistent
with the reality; as when in one account Jesus calls his first
disciples from their nets whilst fishing on the sea of Galilee, and in
the other meets them in Judea on his way to Galilee. We may class under
the same head instances where events or discourses are represented as
having occurred on two distinct occasions, whilst they are so similar
that it is impossible to resist the conclusion that both the narratives
refer to the same event or discourse.

It may here be asked: is it to be regarded as a contradiction if one
account is wholly silent respecting a circumstance mentioned by
another? In itself, apart from all other considerations, the argumentum
ex silentio is of no weight; but it is certainly to be accounted of
moment when, at the same time, it may be shown that had the author
known the circumstance he could not have failed to mention it, and also
that he must have known it had it actually occurred.

II. Positive. The positive characters of legend and fiction are to be
recognized sometimes in the form, sometimes in the substance of a
narrative.

If the form be poetical, if the actors converse in hymns, and in a more
diffuse and elevated strain than might be expected from their training
and situations, such discourses, at all events, are not to be regarded
as historical. The absence of these marks of the unhistorical do not
however prove the historical validity of the narration, since the
mythus often wears the most simple and apparently historical form: in
which case the proof lies in the substance.

If the contents of a narrative strikingly accords with certain ideas
existing and prevailing within the circle from which the narrative
proceeded, which ideas themselves seem to be the product of
preconceived opinions rather than of practical experience, it is more
or less probable, according to circumstances, that such a narrative is
of mythical origin. The knowledge of the fact, that the Jews were fond
of representing their great men as the children of parents who had long
been childless, cannot but make us doubtful of the historical truth of
the statement that this was the case with John the Baptist; knowing
also that the Jews saw predictions everywhere in the writings of their
prophets and poets, and discovered types of the Messiah in all the
lives of holy men recorded in their Scriptures; when we find details in
the life of Jesus evidently sketched after the pattern of these
prophecies and prototypes, we cannot but suspect that they are rather
mythical than historical.

The more simple characteristics of the legend, and of additions by the
author, after the observations of the former section, need no further
elucidation.

Yet each of these tests, on the one hand, and each narrative on the
other, considered apart, will rarely prove more than the possible or
probable unhistorical character of the record. The concurrence of
several such indications, is necessary to bring about a more definite
result. The accounts of the visit of the Magi, and of the murder of the
innocents at Bethlehem, harmonize remarkably with the Jewish Messianic
notion, built upon the prophecy of Balaam, respecting the star which
should come out of Jacob; and with the history of the sanguinary
command of Pharaoh. Still this would not alone suffice to stamp the
narratives as mythical. But we have also the corroborative facts that
the described appearance of the star is contrary to the physical, the
alleged conduct of Herod to the psychological laws; that Josephus, who
gives in other respects so circumstantial an account of Herod, agrees
with all other historical authorities in being silent concerning the
Bethlehem massacre; and that the visit of the Magi together with the
flight into Egypt related in the one Gospel, and the presentation in
the temple related in another Gospel, mutually exclude one another.
Wherever, as in this instance, the several criteria of the mythical
character concur, the result is certain, and certain in proportion to
the accumulation of such grounds of evidence.

It may be that a narrative, standing alone, would discover but slight
indications, or perhaps, might present no one distinct feature of the
mythus; but it is connected with others, or proceeds from the author of
other narratives which exhibit unquestionable marks of a mythical or
legendary character; and consequently suspicion is reflected back from
the latter, on the former. Every narrative, however miraculous,
contains some details which might in themselves be historical, but
which, in consequence of their connexion with the other supernatural
incidents, necessarily become equally doubtful.

In these last remarks we are, to a certain extent, anticipating the
question which is, in conclusion, to be considered: viz., whether the
mythical character is restricted to those features of the narrative,
upon which such character is actually stamped; and whether a
contradiction between two accounts invalidate one account only, or
both? That is to say, what is the precise boundary line between the
historical and the unhistorical?—the most difficult question in the
whole province of criticism.

In the first place, when two narratives mutually exclude one another,
one only is thereby proved to be unhistorical. If one be true the other
must be false, but though the one be false the other may be true. Thus,
in reference to the original residence of the parents of Jesus, we are
justified in adopting the account of Luke which places it at Nazareth,
to the exclusion of that of Matthew, which plainly supposes it to have
been at Bethlehem; and, generally speaking, when we have to choose
between two irreconcilable accounts, in selecting as historical that
which is the least opposed to the laws of nature, and has the least
correspondence with certain national or party opinions. But upon a more
particular consideration it will appear that, since one account is
false, it is possible that the other may be so likewise: the existence
of a mythus respecting some certain point, shows that the imagination
has been active in reference to that particular subject; (we need only
refer to the genealogies;) and the historical accuracy of either of two
such accounts cannot be relied upon, unless substantiated by its
agreement with some other well authenticated testimony.

Concerning the different parts of one and the same narrative: it might
be thought for example, that though the appearance of an angel, and his
announcement to Mary that she should be the Mother of the Messiah, must
certainly be regarded as unhistorical, still, that Mary should have
indulged this hope before the birth of the child, is not in itself
incredible. But what should have excited this hope in Mary’s mind? It
is at once apparent that that which is credible in itself is
nevertheless unhistorical when it is so intimately connected with what
is incredible that, if you discard the latter, you at the same time
remove the basis on which the former rests. Again, any action of Jesus
represented as a miracle, when divested of the marvellous, might be
thought to exhibit a perfectly natural occurrence; with respect to some
of the miraculous histories, the expulsion of devils for instance, this
might with some limitation, be possible. But for this reason alone: in
these instances, a cure, so instantaneous, and effected by a few words
merely, as it is described in the Gospels, is not psychologically
incredible; so that, the essential in these narratives remains
untouched. It is different in the case of the healing of a man born
blind. A natural cure could not have been effected otherwise than by a
gradual process; the narrative states the cure to have been immediate;
if therefore the history be understood to record a natural occurrence,
the most essential particular is incorrectly represented, and
consequently all security for the truth of the otherwise natural
remainder is gone, and the real fact cannot be discovered without the
aid of arbitrary conjecture.

The following examples will serve to illustrate the mode of deciding in
such cases. According to the narrative, as Mary entered the house and
saluted her cousin Elizabeth, who was then pregnant, the babe leaped in
her womb, she was filled with the Holy Ghost, and she immediately
addressed Mary as the mother of the Messiah. This account bears
indubitable marks of an unhistorical character. Yet, it is not, in
itself, impossible that Mary should have paid a visit to her cousin,
during which everything went on quite naturally. The fact is however
that there are psychological difficulties connected with this journey
of the betrothed; and that the visit, and even the relationship of the
two women, seem to have originated entirely in the wish to exhibit a
connexion between the mother of John the Baptist, and the mother of the
Messiah. Or when in the history of the transfiguration it is stated,
that the men who appeared with Jesus on the Mount were Moses and Elias:
and that the brilliancy which illuminated Jesus was supernatural; it
might seem here also that, after deducting the marvellous, the presence
of two men and a bright morning beam might be retained as the
historical facts. But the legend was predisposed, by virtue of the
current idea concerning the relation of the Messiah to these two
prophets, not merely to make any two men (whose persons, object and
conduct, if they were not what the narrative represents them, remain in
the highest degree mysterious) into Moses and Elias, but to create the
whole occurrence; and in like manner not merely to conceive of some
certain illumination as a supernatural effulgence (which, if a natural
one, is much exaggerated and misrepresented), but to create it at once
after the pattern of the brightness which illumined the face of Moses
on Mount Sinai.

Hence is derived the following rule. Where not merely the particular
nature and manner of an occurrence is critically suspicious, its
external circumstances represented as miraculous and the like; but
where likewise the essential substance and groundwork is either
inconceivable in itself, or is in striking harmony with some Messianic
idea of the Jews of that age, then not the particular alleged course
and mode of the transaction only, but the entire occurrence must be
regarded as unhistorical. Where on the contrary, the form only, and not
the general contents of the narration, exhibits the characteristics of
the unhistorical, it is at least possible to suppose a kernel of
historical fact; although we can never confidently decide whether this
kernel of fact actually exists, or in what it consists; unless, indeed,
it be discoverable from other sources. In legendary narratives, or
narratives embellished by the writer, it is less difficult,—by
divesting them of all that betrays itself as fictitious imagery,
exaggeration, etc.—by endeavouring to abstract from them every
extraneous adjunct and to fill up every hiatus—to succeed, proximately
at least, in separating the historical groundwork.

The boundary line, however, between the historical and the
unhistorical, in records, in which as in our Gospels this latter
element is incorporated, will ever remain fluctuating and unsusceptible
of precise attainment. Least of all can it be expected that the first
comprehensive attempt to treat these records from a critical point of
view should be successful in drawing a sharply defined line of
demarcation. In the obscurity which criticism has produced, by the
extinction of all lights hitherto held historical, the eye must
accustom itself by degrees to discriminate objects with precision; and
at all events the author of this work, wishes especially to guard
himself in those places where he declares he knows not what happened,
from the imputation of asserting that he knows that nothing happened.

FIRST PART.

HISTORY OF THE BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF JESUS.

CHAPTER I.

ANNUNCIATION AND BIRTH OF JOHN THE BAPTIST.

§ 17.

ACCOUNT GIVEN BY LUKE. [104] IMMEDIATE, SUPERNATURAL CHARACTER OF THE
REPRESENTATION.

Each of the four Evangelists represents the public ministry of Jesus as
preceded by that of John the Baptist; but it is peculiar to Luke to
make the Baptist the precursor of the Messiah in reference also to the
event of his birth. This account finds a legitimate place in a work
devoted exclusively to the consideration of the life of Jesus: firstly,
on account of the intimate connexion which it exhibits as subsisting
from the very commencement between the life of John and the life of
Jesus; and secondly, because it constitutes a valuable contribution,
aiding essentially towards the formation of a correct estimate of the
general character of the gospel narratives. The opinion that the two
first chapters of Luke, of which this particular history forms a
portion, are a subsequent and unauthentic addition, is the uncritical
assumption of a class of theologians who felt that the history of the
childhood of Jesus seemed to require a mythical interpretation, but yet
demurred to apply the comparatively modern mythical view to the
remainder of the Gospel. [105]

A pious sacerdotal pair had lived and grown old in the cherished, but
unrealized hope, of becoming parents, when, on a certain day, as the
priest is offering incense in the sanctuary, the angel Gabriel appears
to him, and promises him a son, who shall live consecrated to God, and
who shall be the harbinger of the Messiah, to prepare his way when he
shall visit and redeem his people. Zacharias, however, is incredulous,
and doubts the prediction on account of his own advanced age and that
of his wife; whereupon the angel, both as a sign and as a punishment,
strikes him dumb until the time of its accomplishment; an infliction
which endures until the day of the circumcision of the actually born
son, when the father, being called upon to assign to the child the name
predetermined by the angel, suddenly recovers his speech, and with the
regained powers of utterance, breaks forth in a hymn of praise. (Luke
i. 5–25, 57–80.)

It is evidently the object of this gospel account to represent a series
of external and miraculous occurrences. The announcement of the birth
of the forerunner of the Messiah is divinely communicated by the
apparition of a celestial spirit; the conception takes place under the
particular and preternatural blessing of God; and the infliction and
removal of dumbness are effected by extraordinary means. But it is
quite another question, whether we can accede to the view of the
author, or can feel convinced that the birth of the Baptist was in fact
preceded by such a series of miraculous events.

The first offence against our modern notions in this narrative is the
appearance of the angel: the event contemplated in itself, as well as
the peculiar circumstances of the apparition. With respect to the
latter, the angel announces himself to be Gabriel that stands in the
presence of God. Now it is inconceivable that the constitution of the
celestial hierarchy should actually correspond with the notions
entertained by the Jews subsequent to the exile; and that the names
given to the angels should be in the language of this people. [106]
Here the supranaturalist finds himself in a dilemma, even upon his own
ground. Had the belief in celestial beings, occupying a particular
station in the court of heaven, and distinguished by particular names,
originated from the revealed religion of the Hebrews,—had such a belief
been established by Moses, or some later prophet,—then, according to
the views of the supranaturalist, they might, nay they must, be
admitted to be correct. But it is in the Maccabæan Daniel [107] and in
the apocryphal Tobit, [108] that this doctrine of angels, in its more
precise form, first appears; and it is evidently a product of the
influence of the Zend religion of the Persians on the Jewish mind. We
have the testimony of the Jews themselves, that they brought the names
of the angels with them from Babylon. [109] Hence arises a series of
questions extremely perplexing to the supranaturalist. Was the doctrine
false so long as it continued to be the exclusive possession of the
heathens, but true as soon as it became adopted by the Jews? or was it
at all times equally true, and was an important truth discovered by an
idolatrous nation sooner than by the people of God? If nations shut out
from a particular and divine revelation, arrived at truth by the light
of reason alone, sooner than the Jews who were guided by that
revelation, then either the revelation was superfluous, or its
influence was merely negative: that is, it operated as a check to the
premature acquisition of knowledge. If, in order to escape this
consequence, it be contended that truths were revealed by the divine
influence to other people besides the Israelites, the supranaturalistic
point of view is annihilated; and, since all things contained in
religions which contradict each other cannot have been revealed, we are
compelled to exercise a critical discrimination. Thus, we find it to be
by no means in harmony with an elevated conception of God to represent
him as an earthly monarch, surrounded by his court: and when an appeal
is made, in behalf of the reality of angels standing round the throne,
to the reasonable belief in a graduated scale of created intelligences,
[110] the Jewish representation is not thereby justified, but merely a
modern conception substituted for it. We should, thus, be driven to the
expedient of supposing an accommodation on the part of God: that he
sent a celestial spirit with the command to simulate a rank and title
which did not belong to him, in order that, by this conformity to
Jewish notions, he might insure the belief of the father of the
Baptist. Since however it appears that Zacharias did not believe the
angel, but was first convinced by the result, the accommodation proved
fruitless, and consequently could not have been a divine arrangement.
With regard to the name of the angel, and the improbability that a
celestial being should bear a Hebrew name, it has been remarked that
the word Gabriel, taken appellatively in the sense of Man of God, very
appropriately designates the nature of the heavenly visitant; and since
it may be rendered with this signification into every different
language, the name cannot be said to be restricted to the Hebrew. [111]
This explanation however leaves the difficulty quite unsolved, since it
converts into a simple appellative a name evidently employed as a
proper name. In this case likewise an accommodation must be supposed,
namely, that the angel, in order to indicate his real nature,
appropriated a name which he did not actually bear: an accommodation
already judged in the foregoing remarks.

But it is not only the name and the alleged station of the angel which
shock our modern ideas, we also feel his discourse and his conduct to
be unworthy. Paulus indeed suggests that none but a levitical priest,
and not an angel of Jehovah, could have conceived it necessary that the
boy should live in nazarite abstemiousness, [112] but to this it may be
answered that the angel also might have known that under this form John
would obtain greater influence with the people. But there is a more
important difficulty. When Zacharias, overcome by surprise, doubts the
promise and asks for a sign, this natural incredulity is regarded by
the angel as a crime, and immediately punished with dumbness. Though
some may not coincide with Paulus that a real angel would have lauded
the spirit of inquiry evinced by the priest, yet all will agree in the
remark, that conduct so imperious is less in character with a truly
celestial being than with the notions the Jews of that time entertained
of such. Moreover we do not find in the whole province of
supranaturalism a parallel severity.

The instance, cited by Paulus, of Jehovah’s far milder treatment of
Abraham, who asks precisely the same question unreproved, Gen. xv. 8,
is refuted by Olshausen, because he considers the words of Abraham,
chap. xv. 6, an evidence of his faith; but this observation does not
apply to chap. xviii. 12, where the greater incredulity of Sarah, in a
similar case, remains unpunished; nor to chap. xvii. 17, where Abraham
himself is not even blamed, though the divine promise appears to him so
incredible as to excite laughter. The example of Mary is yet closer,
who (Luke i. 34) in regard to a still greater improbability, but one
which was similarly declared by a special divine messenger to be no
impossibility, puts exactly the same question as Zacharias; so that we
must agree with Paulus that such inconsistency certainly cannot belong
to the conduct of God or of a celestial being, but merely to the Jewish
representation of them. Feeling the objectionableness of the
representation in its existing form, orthodox theologians have invented
various motives to justify this infliction of dumbness. Hess has
attempted to screen it from the reproach of an arbitrary procedure by
regarding it as the only means of keeping secret, even against the will
of the priest, an event, the premature proclamation of which might have
been followed by disastrous consequences, similar to those which
attended the announcement by the wise men of the birth of the child
Jesus. [113] But, in the first place, the angel says nothing of such an
object, he inflicts the dumbness but as a sign and punishment;
secondly, the loss of speech did not hinder Zacharias from
communicating, at any rate to his wife, the main features of the
apparition, since we see that she was acquainted with the destined name
of the child before appeal was made to the father. Thirdly, what end
did it serve thus to render difficult the communication of the
miraculous annunciation of the unborn babe, since no sooner was it born
than it was at once exposed to all the dreaded dangers?—for the
father’s sudden recovery of speech, and the extraordinary scene at the
circumcision excited attention and became noised abroad in all the
country. Olshausen’s view of the thing is more admissible. He regards
the whole proceeding, and especially the dumbness, as a moral training
destined to teach Zacharias to know and conquer his want of faith.
[114] But of this too we have no mention in the text; besides the
unexpected accomplishment of the prediction would have made Zacharias
sufficiently ashamed of his unbelief, if instead of inflicting dumbness
the angel had merely remonstrated with him.

But however worthy of God we might grant the conduct of his messenger
to have been, still many of the present day will find an angelic
apparition, as such, incredible. Bauer insists that wherever angels
appear, both in the New Testament and in the Old, the narrative is
mythical. [115] Even admitting the existence of angels, we cannot
suppose them capable of manifesting themselves to human beings, since
they belong to the invisible world, and spiritual existences are not
cognizable by the organs of sense; so that it is always advisable to
refer their pretended apparitions to the imagination. [116] It is not
probable, it is added, that God should make use of them according to
the popular notion, for these apparitions have no apparent adequate
object, they serve generally only to gratify curiosity, or to encourage
man’s disposition passively to leave his affairs in higher hands. [117]
It is also remarkable that in the old world these celestial beings show
themselves active upon the smallest occasions, whilst in modern times
they remain idle even during the most important occurrences. [118] But
to deny their appearance and agency among men is to call in question
their very being, because it is precisely this occupation which is a
main object of their existence (Heb. i. 14). According to
Schleiermacher [119] we cannot indeed actually disprove the existence
of angels, yet the conception is one which could not have originated in
our time, but belongs wholly to the ancient ideas of the world. The
belief in angels has a twofold root or source: the one the natural
desire of the mind to presuppose a larger amount of intelligence in the
universe than is realized in the human race. We who live in these days
find this desire satisfied in the conviction that other worlds exist
besides our own, and are peopled by intelligent beings; and thus the
first source of the belief in angels is destroyed. The other source,
namely, the representation of God as an earthly monarch surrounded by
his court, contradicts all enlightened conceptions of Deity; and
further, the phenomena in the natural world and the transitions in
human life, which were formerly thought to be wrought by God himself
through ministering angels, we are now able to explain by natural
causes; so that the belief in angels is without a link by which it can
attach itself to rightly apprehended modern ideas; and it exists only
as a lifeless tradition. The result is the same if, with one of the
latest writers on the doctrine of angels, [120] we consider as the
origin of this representation, man’s desire to separate the two sides
of his moral nature, and to contemplate, as beings existing external to
himself, angels and devils. For, the origin of both representations
remains merely subjective, the angel being simply the ideal of created
perfection: which, as it was formed from the subordinate point of view
of a fanciful imagination, disappears from the higher and more
comprehensive observation of the intellect. [121]

Olshausen, on the other hand, seeks to deduce a positive argument in
favour of the reality of the apparition in question, from those very
reasonings of the present day which, in fact, negative the existence of
angels; and he does so by viewing the subject on its speculative side.
He is of opinion that the gospel narrative does not contradict just
views of the world, since God is immanent in the universe and moves it
by his breath. [122] But if it be true that God is immanent in the
world, precisely on that account is the intervention of angels
superfluous. It is only a Deity who dwells apart, throned in heaven,
who requires to send down his angels to fulfil his purposes on earth.
It would excite surprise to find Olshausen arguing thus, did we not
perceive from the manner in which this interpreter constantly treats of
angelology and demonology, that he does not consider angels to be
independent personal entities; but regards them rather as divine
powers, transitory emanations and fulgurations of the Divine Being.
Thus Olshausen’s conception of angels, in their relation to God, seems
to correspond with the Sabellian doctrine of the Trinity; but as his is
not the representation of the Bible, as also the arguments in favour of
the former prove nothing in relation to the latter, it is useless to
enter into further explanation. The reasoning of this same theologian,
that we must not require the ordinariness of every-day life for the
most pregnant epochs in the life of the human race; that the
incarnation of the eternal word was accompanied by extraordinary
manifestations from the world of spirits, uncalled for in times less
rich in momentous results, [123] rests upon a misapprehension. For the
ordinary course of every-day life is interrupted in such moments, by
the very fact that exalted beings like the Baptist are born into the
world, and it would be puerile to designate as ordinary those times and
circumstances which gave birth and maturity to a John, because they
were unembellished by angelic apparitions. That which the spiritual
world does for ours at such periods is to send extraordinary human
intelligences, not to cause angels to ascend and descend.

Finally, if, in vindication of this narrative, it be stated that such
an exhibition by the angel, of the plan of education for the unborn
child, was necessary in order to make him the man he should become,
[124] the assumption includes too much; namely, that all great men, in
order by their education to become such, must have been introduced into
the world in like manner, or cause must be shown why that which was
unnecessary in the case of great men of other ages and countries was
indispensable for the Baptist. Again, the assumption attaches too much
importance to external training, too little to the internal development
of the mind. But in conclusion, many of the circumstances in the life
of the Baptist, instead of serving to confirm a belief in the truth of
the miraculous history, are on the contrary, as has been justly
maintained, altogether irreconcilable with the supposition, that his
birth was attended by these wonderful occurrences. If it were indeed
true, that John was from the first distinctly and miraculously
announced as the forerunner of the Messiah, it is inconceivable that he
should have had no acquaintance with Jesus prior to his baptism; and
that, even subsequent to that event, he should have felt perplexed
concerning his Messiahship (John i. 30; Matt. xi. 2). [125]

Consequently the negative conclusion of the rationalistic criticism and
controversy must, we think, be admitted, namely, that the birth of the
Baptist could not have been preceded and attended by these supernatural
occurrences. The question now arises, what positive view of the matter
is to replace the rejected literal orthodox explanation?

§ 18.

NATURAL EXPLANATION OF THE NARRATIVE.

In treating the narrative before us according to the rationalistic
method, which requires the separation of the pure fact from the opinion
of interested persons, the simplest alteration is this: to retain the
two leading facts, the apparition and the dumbness, as actual external
occurrences; but to account for them in a natural manner. This were
possible with respect to the apparition, by supposing that a man,
mistaken by Zacharias for a divine messenger, really appeared to him,
and addressed to him the words he believed he heard. But this
explanation, viewed in connexion with the attendant circumstances,
being too improbable, it became necessary to go a step further, and to
transform the event from an external to an internal one; to remove the
occurrence out of the physical into the psychological world. To this
view the opinion of Bahrdt, that a flash of lightning was perhaps
mistaken by Zacharias for an angel, [126] forms a transition; since he
attributes the greater part of the scene to Zacharias’s imagination.
But that any man, in an ordinary state of mind, could have created so
long and consecutive a dialogue out of a flash of lightning is
incredible. A peculiar mental state must be supposed; whether it be a
swoon, the effect of fright occasioned by the lightning, [127] but of
this there is no trace in the text (no falling down as in Acts ix. 4);
or, abandoning the notion of the lightning, a dream, which, however,
could scarcely occur whilst burning incense in the temple. Hence, it
has been found necessary, with Paulus, to call to mind that there are
waking visions or ecstasies, in which the imagination confounds
internal images with external occurrences. [128] Such ecstasies, it is
true, are not common; but, says Paulus, in Zacharias’s case many
circumstances combined to produce so unusual a state of mind. The
exciting causes were, firstly, the long-cherished desire to have a
posterity; secondly, the exalted vocation of administering in the Holy
of Holies, offering up with the incense the prayers of the people to
the throne of Jehovah, which seemed to Zacharias to foretoken the
acceptance of his own prayer; and thirdly, perhaps an exhortation from
his wife as he left his house, similar to that of Rachel to Jacob. Gen.
xxx. 1(!) In this highly excited state of mind, as he prays in the
dimly-lighted sanctuary, he thinks of his most ardent wish, and
expecting that now or never his prayer shall be heard, he is prepared
to discern a sign of its acceptance in the slightest occurrence. As the
glimmer of the lamps falls upon the ascending cloud of incense, and
shapes it into varying forms, the priest imagines he perceives the
figure of an angel. The apparition at first alarms him; but he soon
regards it as an assurance from God that his prayer is heard. No sooner
does a transient doubt cross his mind, than the sensitively pious
priest looks upon himself as sinful, believes himself reproved by the
angel, and—here two explanations are possible—either an apoplectic
seizure actually deprives him of speech, which he receives as the just
punishment of his incredulity, till the excessive joy he experiences at
the circumcision of his son restores the power of utterance: so that
the dumbness is retained as an external, physical, though not
miraculous, occurrence; [129] or the proceeding is psychologically
understood, namely, that Zacharias, in accordance with a Jewish
superstition, for a time denied himself the use of the offending
member. [130] Reanimated in other respects by the extraordinary event,
the priest returns home to his wife, and she becomes a second Sarah.

With regard to this account of the angelic apparition given by
Paulus,—and the other explanations are either of essentially similar
character, or are so manifestly untenable, as not to need refutation—it
may be observed that the object so laboriously striven after is not
attained. Paulus fails to free the narrative of the marvellous; for by
his own admission, the majority of men have no experience of the kind
of vision here supposed. [131] If such a state of ecstasy occur in
particular cases, it must result either from a predisposition in the
individual, of which we find no sign in Zacharias, and which his
advanced age must have rendered highly improbable; or it must have been
induced by some peculiar circumstances, which totally fail in the
present instance. [132] A hope which has been long indulged is
inadequate to the production of ecstatic vehemence, and the act of
burning incense is insufficient to cause so extraordinary an
excitement, in a priest who has grown old in the service of the temple.
Thus Paulus has in fact substituted a miracle of chance for a miracle
of God. Should it be said that to God nothing is impossible, or to
chance nothing is impossible, both explanations are equally precarious
and unscientific.

Indeed, the dumbness of Zacharias as explained from this point of view
is very unsatisfactory. For had it been, as according to one
explanation, the result of apoplexy; admitting Paulus’s reference to
Lev. xxi. 16, to be set aside by the contrary remark of Lightfoot,
[133] still, we must join with Schleiermacher in wondering how
Zacharias, notwithstanding this apoplectic seizure, returned home in
other respects healthy and vigorous; [134] and that in spite of partial
paralysis his general strength was unimpaired, and his long-cherished
hope fulfilled. It must also be regarded as a strange coincidence, that
the father’s tongue should have been loosed exactly at the time of the
circumcision; for if the recovery of speech is to be considered as the
effect of joy, [135] surely the father must have been far more elated
at the birth of the earnestly-desired son, than at the circumcision;
for by that time he would have become accustomed to the possession of
his child.

The other explanation: that Zacharias’s silence was not from any
physical impediment, but from a notion, to be psychologically
explained, that he ought not to speak, is in direct contradiction to
the words of Luke. What do all the passages, collected by Paulus to
show that οὐ δύναμαι may signify not only a positive non posse, but
likewise a mere non sustinere, [136] prove against the clear meaning of
the passage and its context? If perhaps the narrative phrase (v. 22),
οὐκ ἠδύνατο λαλῆσαι αὐτοῖς might be forced to bear this sense, yet
certainly in the supposed vision of Zacharias, had the angel only
forbidden him to speak, instead of depriving him of the power of
speech, he would not have said: καὶ ἔσῃ σιωπῶν, μὴ δυνάμενος λαλῆσαι,
but ἴσθι σιωπῶν, μηδ’ ἐπιχειρήσῃς λαλῆσαι. The words διέμενε κωφὸς (v.
21) also most naturally mean actual dumbness. This view assumes, and
indeed necessarily so, that the gospel history is a correct report of
the account given by Zacharias himself; if then it be denied that the
dumbness was actual, as Zacharias affirms that actual dumbness was
announced to him by the angel, it must be admitted that, though
perfectly able to speak, he believed himself to be dumb, which leads to
the conclusion that he was mad: an imputation not to be laid upon the
father of the Baptist without compulsory evidence in the text.

Again, the natural explanation makes too light of the incredibly
accurate fulfilment of a prediction originating, as it supposes, in an
unnatural, over-excited state of mind. In no other province of inquiry
would the realization of a prediction which owed its birth to a vision
be found credible, even by the Rationalist. If Dr. Paulus were to read
that a somnambulist, in a state of ecstasy, had foretold the birth of a
child, under circumstances in the highest degree improbable; and not
only of a child, but of a boy; and had moreover, with accurate
minuteness, predicted his future mode of life, character, and position
in history; and that each particular had been exactly verified by the
result: would he find such a coincidence credible? Most assuredly to no
human being, under any conditions whatsoever, would he concede the
power thus to penetrate the most mysterious workings of nature; on the
contrary he would complain of the outrage on human free-will, which is
annihilated by the admission that a man’s entire intellectual and moral
development may be predetermined like the movements of a clock. And he
would on this very ground complain of the inaccuracy of observation,
and untrustworthiness of the report which represented, as matters of
fact, things in their very nature impossible. Why does he not follow
the same rule with respect to the New Testament narrative? Why admit in
the one case what he rejects in the other? Is biblical history to be
judged by one set of laws, and profane history by another?—An
assumption which the Rationalist is compelled to make, if he admits as
credible in the Gospels that which he rejects as unworthy of credit in
every other history—which is in fact to fall back on the
supranaturalistic point of view, since the assumption, that the natural
laws which govern in every other province are not applicable to sacred
history, is the very essential of supranaturalism.

No other rescue from this self-annihilation remains to the
anti-supernatural mode of explanation, than to question the verbal
accuracy of the history. This is the simplest expedient, felt to be
such by Paulus himself, who remarks, that his efforts may be deemed
superfluous to give a natural explanation of a narrative, which is
nothing more than one of those stories invented either after the death
or even during the lifetime of every distinguished man to embellish his
early history. Paulus, however, after an impartial examination, is of
opinion that the analogy, in the present instance, is not applicable.
The principal ground for this opinion is the too short interval between
the birth of the Baptist, and the composition of the Gospel of Luke.
[137] We, on the contrary, in harmony with the observations in the
introduction, would reverse the question and inquire of this
interpreter, how he would render it credible, that the history of the
birth of a man so famed as the Baptist should have been transmitted, in
an age of great excitement, through a period of more than sixty years,
in all its primitive accuracy of detail? Paulus’s answer is ready: an
answer approved by others (Heidenreich, Olshausen):—the passage
inserted by Luke i. 5; ii. 39 was possibly a family record, which
circulated among the relatives of the Baptist and of Jesus; and of
which Zacharias was probably the author. [138]

K. Ch. L. Schmidt controverts this hypothesis with the remark, that it
is impossible that a narrative so disfigured (we should rather say, so
embellished) could have been a family record; and that, if it does not
belong altogether to the class of legends, its historical basis, if
such there be, is no longer to be distinguished. [139] It is further
maintained, that the narrative presents certain features which no poet
would have conceived, and which prove it to be a direct impression of
facts; for instance, the Messianic expectations expressed by the
different personages introduced by Luke (chap. i. and ii.) correspond
exactly with the situation and relation of each individual. [140] But
these distinctions are by no means so striking as Paulus represents;
they are only the characteristics of a history which goes into details,
making a transition from generalities to particulars, which is natural
alike to the poet and to the popular legend; besides, the peculiar
Judaical phraseology in which the Messianic expectations are expressed,
and which it is contended confirm the opinion that this narrative was
written, or received its fixed form, before the death of Jesus,
continued to be used after that event Acts i. 6 [141]. Moreover we must
agree with Schleiermacher when he says: [142] least of all is it
possible to regard these utterances as strictly historical; or to
maintain that Zacharias, in the moment that he recovered his speech,
employed it in a song of praise, uninterrupted by the exultation and
wonder of the company, sentiments which the narrator interrupts himself
to indulge. It must, at all events, be admitted that the author has
made additions of his own, and has enriched the history by the lyric
effusions of his muse. Kuinöl supposes that Zacharias composed and
wrote down the canticle subsequent to the occasion; but this strange
surmise contradicts the text. There are some other features which, it
is contended, belong not to the creations of the poet; such as, the
signs made to the father, the debate in the family, the position of the
angel on the right hand of the altar. [143] But this criticism is
merely a proof that these interpreters have, or determine to have, no
just conception of poetry or popular legend; for the genuine
characteristic of poetry and mythus is natural and pictorial
representation of details. [144]

§ 19.

MYTHICAL VIEW OF THE NARRATIVE IN ITS DIFFERENT STAGES.

The above exposition of the necessity, and lastly, of the possibility
of doubting the historical fidelity of the gospel narrative, has led
many theologians to explain the account of the birth of the Baptist as
a poetical composition; suggested by the importance attributed by the
Christians to the forerunner of Jesus, and by the recollection of some
of the Old Testament histories, in which the births of Ishmael, Isaac,
Samuel, and especially of Samson, are related to have been similarly
announced. Still the matter was not allowed to be altogether invented.
It may have been historically true that Zacharias and Elizabeth lived
long without offspring; that, on one occasion whilst in the temple, the
old man’s tongue was suddenly paralyzed; but that soon afterwards his
aged wife bore him a son, and he, in his joy at the event, recovered
the power of speech. At that time, but still more when John became a
remarkable man, the history excited attention, and out of it the
existing legend grew. [145]

It is surprising to find an explanation almost identical with the
natural one we have criticised above, again brought forward under a new
title; so that the admission of the possibility of an admixture of
subsequent legends in the narrative has little influence on the view of
the matter itself. As the mode of explanation we are now advocating
denies all confidence in the historical authenticity of the record, all
the details must be in themselves equally problematic; and whether
historical validity can be retained for this or that particular
incident, can be determined only by its being either less improbable
than the rest, or else less in harmony with the spirit, interest, and
design of the poetic legend, so as to make it probable that it had a
distinct origin. The barrenness of Elizabeth and the sudden dumbness of
Zacharias are here retained as incidents of this character: so that
only the appearing and prediction of the angel are given up. But by
taking away the angelic apparition, the sudden infliction and as sudden
removal of the dumbness loses its only adequate supernatural cause, so
that all difficulties which beset the natural interpretation remain in
full force: a dilemma into which these theologians are, most
unnecessarily, brought by their own inconsequence; for the moment we
enter upon mythical ground, all obligation to hold fast the assumed
historical fidelity of the account ceases to exist. Besides, that which
they propose to retain as historical fact, namely, the long barrenness
of the parents of the Baptist, is so strictly in harmony with the
spirit and character of Hebrew legendary poetry, that of this incident
the mythical origin is least to be mistaken. How confused has this
misapprehension made, for example, the reasoning of Bauer! It was a
prevailing opinion, says he, consonant with Jewish ideas, that all
children born of aged parents, who had previously been childless,
became distinguished personages. John was the child of aged parents,
and became a notable preacher of repentance; consequently it was
thought justifiable to infer that his birth was predicted by an angel.
What an illogical conclusion! for which he has no other ground than the
assumption that John was the son of aged parents. Let this be made a
settled point, and the conclusion follows without difficulty. It was
readily believed, he proceeds, of remarkable men that they were born of
aged parents, and that their birth, no longer in the ordinary course of
nature to be expected, was announced by a heavenly messenger [146];
John was a great man and a prophet; consequently, the legend
represented him to have been born of an aged couple, and his birth to
have been proclaimed by an angel.

Seeing that this explanation of the narrative before us, as a half (so
called historical) mythus, is encumbered with all the difficulties of a
half measure, Gabler has treated it as a pure philosophical, or
dogmatical mythus. [147] Horst likewise considers it, and indeed the
entire two first chapters of Luke, of which it forms a part, as an
ingenious fiction, in which the birth of the Messiah, together with
that of his precursor, and the predictions concerning the character and
ministry of the latter, framed after the event, are set forth; it being
precisely the loquacious circumstantiality of the narration which
betrays the poet. [148] Schleiermacher likewise explains the first
chapter as a little poem, similar in character to many of the Jewish
poems which we meet with in their apocrypha. He does not however
consider it altogether a fabrication. It might have had a foundation in
fact, and in a widespread tradition; but the poet has allowed himself
so full a license in arranging, and combining, in moulding and
embodying the vague and fluctuating representations of tradition, that
the attempt to detect the purely historical in such narratives, must
prove a fruitless and useless effort. [149] Horst goes so far as to
suppose the author of the piece to have been a Judaising Christian;
whilst Schleiermacher imagines it to have been composed by a Christian
of the famed Jewish school, at a period when it comprised some who
still continued strict disciples of John; and whom it was the object of
the narrative to bring over to Christianity, by exhibiting the
relationship of John to the Christ as his peculiar and highest destiny;
and also by holding out the expectation of a state of temporal
greatness for the Jewish people at the reappearance of Christ.

An attentive consideration of the Old Testament histories, to which, as
most interpreters admit, the narrative of the annunciation and birth of
the Baptist bears a striking affinity, will render it abundantly
evident that this is the only just view of the passage in question. But
it must not here be imagined, as is now so readily affirmed in the
confutation of the mythical view of this passage, that the author of
our narrative first made a collection from the Old Testament of its
individual traits; much rather had the scattered traits respecting the
late birth of different distinguished men, as recorded in the Old
Testament, blended themselves into a compound image in the mind of
their reader, whence he selected the features most appropriate to his
present subject. Of the children born of aged parents, Isaac is the
most ancient prototype. As it is said of Zacharias and Elizabeth, “they
both were advanced in their days” (v. 7) προβεβηκότες ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις
αὐτῶν, so Abraham and Sarah “were advanced in their days” ‏בָּאִים בַּיָמִים‎
(Gen. xviii. 11; LXX: προβεβηκότες ἡμερῶν), when they were promised a
son. It is likewise from this history that the incredulity of the
father, on account of the advanced age of both parents, and the demand
of a sign, are borrowed in our narrative. As Abraham, when Jehovah
promises him he shall have a son and a numerous posterity who shall
inherit the land of Canaan, doubtingly inquires, “Whereby shall I know
that I shall inherit it?” κατὰ τί γνώσομαι, ὄτι κληρονομήσω αὐτήν; (sc.
τὴν γῆν. Gen. xv. 8. LXX.): so Zacharias—“Whereby shall I know this?”
κατὰ τί γνώσομαι τοῦτο; (v. 18.) The incredulity of Sarah is not made
use of for Elizabeth; but she is said to be of the daughters of Aaron,
and the name Elizabeth may perhaps have been suggested by that of
Aaron’s wife (Exod. vi. 23. LXX.). The incident of the angel announcing
the birth of the Baptist is taken from the history of another late-born
child, Samson. In our narrative, indeed, the angel appears first to the
father in the temple, whereas in the history of Samson he shows himself
first to the mother, and afterwards to the father in the field. This,
however, is an alteration arising naturally out of the different
situations of the respective parents (Judges xiii.). According to
popular Jewish notions, it was no unusual occurrence for the priest to
be visited by angels and divine apparitions whilst offering incense in
the temple. [150] The command which before his birth predestined the
Baptist—whose later ascetic mode of life was known—to be a Nazarite, is
taken from the same source. As, to Samson’s mother during her
pregnancy, wine, strong drink, and unclean food, were forbidden, so a
similar diet is prescribed for her son, [151] adding, as in the case of
John, that the child shall be consecrated to God from the womb. [152]
The blessings which it is predicted that these two men shall realize
for the people of Israel are similar (comp. Luke i. 16, 17, with Judges
xiii. 5), and each narrative concludes with the same expression
respecting the hopeful growth of the child. [153] It may be too bold to
derive the Levitical descent of the Baptist from a third Old Testament
history of a late-born son—from the history of Samuel (compare 1 Sam.
i. 1; Chron. vii. 27); but the lyric effusions in the first chapter of
Luke are imitations of this history. As Samuel’s mother, when
consigning him to the care of the high priest, breaks forth into a hymn
(1 Sam. ii. 1), so the father of John does the same at the
circumcision; though the particular expressions in the Canticle uttered
by Mary—of which we shall have to speak hereafter—have a closer
resemblance to Hannah’s song of praise than that of Zacharias. The
significant appellation John (‏יְהוֹחָנָן‎ = Θεόχαρις), predetermined by
the angel, had its precedent in the announcements of the names of
Ishmael and Isaac [154]; but the ground of its selection was the
apparently providential coincidence between the signification of the
name and the historical destination of the man. The remark, that the
name of John was not in the family (v. 61), only brought its celestial
origin more fully into view. The tablet (πινακίδιον) upon which the
father wrote the name (v. 63), was necessary on account of his
incapacity to speak; but it also had its type in the Old Testament.
Isaiah was commanded to write the significant names of the child
Maher-shalal-hash-baz upon a tablet (Isaiah viii. 1 ff.). The only
supernatural incident of the narrative, of which the Old Testament may
seem to offer no precise analogy, is the dumbness; and this is the
point fixed upon by those who contest the mythical view. [155] But if
it be borne in mind that the asking and receiving a sign from heaven in
confirmation of a promise or prophecy was usual among the Hebrews
(comp. Isaiah vii. 11 ff.); that the temporary loss of one of the
senses was the peculiar punishment inflicted after a heavenly vision
(Acts ix. 8, 17 ff.); that Daniel became dumb whilst the angel was
talking with him, and did not recover his speech till the angel had
touched his lips and opened his mouth (Dan. x. 15 f.): the origin of
this incident also will be found in the legend, and not in historical
fact. Of two ordinary and subordinate features of the narrative, the
one, the righteousness of the parents of the Baptist (v. 6), is merely
a conclusion founded upon the belief that to a pious couple alone would
the blessing of such a son be vouchsafed, and consequently is void of
all historical worth; the other, the statement that John was born in
the reign of Herod (the Great) (v. 5), is without doubt a correct
calculation.

So that we stand here upon purely mythical-poetical ground; the only
historical reality which we can hold fast as positive matter of fact
being this:—the impression made by John the Baptist, by virtue of his
ministry and his relation to Jesus, was so powerful as to lead to the
subsequent glorification of his birth in connection with the birth of
the Messiah in the Christian legend. [156]

CHAPTER II.

DAVIDICAL DESCENT OF JESUS, ACCORDING TO THE GENEALOGICAL TABLES OF
MATTHEW AND LUKE.

§ 20.

THE TWO GENEALOGIES OF JESUS CONSIDERED SEPARATELY AND IRRESPECTIVELY
OF ONE ANOTHER.

In the history of the birth of the Baptist, we had the single account
of Luke; but regarding the genealogical descent of Jesus we have also
that of Matthew; so that in this case the mutual control of two
narrators in some respects multiplies, whilst in others it lightens,
our critical labour. It is indeed true that the authenticity of the two
first chapters of Matthew, which contain the history of the birth and
childhood of Jesus, as well as that of the parallel section of Luke,
has been questioned: but as in both cases the question has originated
merely in a prejudiced view of the subject, the doubt has been silenced
by a decisive refutation. [157]

Each of these two Gospels contains a genealogical table designed to
exhibit the Davidical descent of Jesus, the Messiah. That of Matthew
(i. 1–17) precedes, that of Luke (iii. 23–38) follows, the history of
the announcement and birth of Jesus. These two tables, considered each
in itself, or both compared together, afford so important a key to the
character of the evangelic records in this section, as to render a
close examination of them imperative. We shall first consider each
separately, and then each, but particularly that of Matthew, in
comparison with the passages in the Old Testament to which it is
parallel.

In the Genealogy given by the author of the first Gospel, there is a
comparison of the account with itself which is important, as it gives a
result, a sum at its conclusion, whose correctness may be proved by
comparing it with the previous statements. In the summing up it is
said, that from Abraham to Christ there are three divisions of fourteen
generations each, the first from Abraham to David, the second from
David to the Babylonish exile, the third from the exile to Christ. Now
if we compute the number of names for ourselves, we find the first
fourteen from Abraham to David, both included, complete (2–5); also
that from Solomon to Jechonias, after whom the Babylonish exile is
mentioned (6–11); but from Jechonias to Jesus, even reckoning the
latter as one, we can discover only thirteen (12–16). How shall we
explain this discrepancy? The supposition that one of the names has
escaped from the third division by an error of a transcriber, [158] is
in the highest degree improbable, since the deficiency is mentioned so
early as by Porphyry. [159] The insertion, in some manuscripts and
versions, of the name Jehoiakim [160] between Josias and Jechonias,
does not supply the deficiency of the third division; it only adds a
superfluous generation to the second division, which was already
complete. As also there is no doubt that this deficiency originated
with the author of the genealogy, the question arises: in what manner
did he reckon so as to count fourteen generations for his third series?
Truly it is possible to count in various ways, if an arbitrary
inclusion and exclusion of the first and last members of the several
series be permitted. It might indeed have been presupposed, that a
generation already included in one division was necessarily excluded
from another: but the compiler of the genealogy may perhaps have
thought otherwise; and since David is twice mentioned in the table, it
is possible that the author counted him twice: namely, at the end of
the first series, and again at the beginning of the second. This would
not indeed, any more than the insertion of Jehoiakim, fill up the
deficiency in the third division, but give too many to the second; so
that we must, with some commentators, [161] conclude the second series
not with Jechonias, as is usually done, but with his predecessor
Josias: and now, by means of the double enumeration of David,
Jechonias, who was superfluous in the second division, being available
for the third, the last series, including Jesus, has its fourteen
members complete. But it seems very arbitrary to reckon the concluding
member of the first series twice, and not also that of the second: to
avoid which inconsistency some interpreters have proposed to count
Josias twice, as well as David, and thus complete the fourteen members
of the third series without Jesus. But whilst this computation escapes
one blunder, it falls into another; namely, that whereas the expression
ἀπὸ Ἀβραὰμ ἕως Δαβὶδ κ.τ.λ. (v. 17) is supposed to include the latter,
in ἀπὸ μετοικεσίας Βαβυλῶνος ἕως τοῦ Χριστοῦ, the latter is excluded.
This difficulty may be avoided by counting Jechonias twice instead of
Josias, which gives us fourteen names for the third division, including
Jesus; but then, in order not to have too many in the second, we must
drop the double enumeration of David, and thus be liable to the same
charge of inconsistency as in the former case, since the double
enumeration is made between the second and third divisions, and not
between the first and second. Perhaps De Wette has found the right clue
when he remarks, that in v. 17, in both transitions some member of the
series is mentioned twice, but in the first case only that member is a
person (David), and therefore to be twice reckoned. In the second case
it is the Babylonish captivity occurring between Josias and Jechonias,
which latter, since he had reigned only three months in Jerusalem (the
greater part of his life having passed after the carrying away to
Babylon), was mentioned indeed at the conclusion of the second series
for the sake of connexion, but was to be reckoned only at the beginning
of the third. [162]

If we now compare the genealogy of Matthew (still without reference to
that of Luke) with the corresponding passages of the Old Testament, we
shall also find discrepancy, and in this case of a nature exactly the
reverse of the preceding: for as the table considered in itself
required the duplication of one member in order to complete its scheme,
so when compared with the Old Testament, we find that many of the names
there recorded have been omitted, in order that the number fourteen
might not be exceeded. That is to say, the Old Testament affords data
for comparison with this genealogical table as the famed pedigree of
the royal race of David, from Abraham to Zorobabel and his sons; after
whom, the Davidical line begins to retire into obscurity, and from the
silence of the Old Testament the genealogy of Matthew ceases to be
under any control. The series of generations from Abraham to Judah,
Pharez, and Hezron, is sufficiently well known from Genesis; from
Pharez to David we find it in the conclusion of the book of Ruth, and
in the 2nd chapter of the 1st Chronicles; that from David to Zerubbabel
in the 3rd chapter of the same book; besides passages that are parallel
with separate portions of the series.

To complete the comparison: we find the line from Abraham to David,
that is, the whole first division of fourteen in our genealogy, in
exact accordance with the names of men given in the Old Testament:
leaving out however the names of some women, one of which makes a
difficulty. It is said v. 5 that Rahab was the mother of Boaz. Not only
is this without confirmation in the Old Testament, but even if she be
made the great-grandmother of Jesse, the father of David, there are too
few generations between her time and that of David (from about 1450 to
1050 B.C.), that is, counting either Rahab or David as one, four for
400 years. Yet this error falls back upon the Old Testament genealogy
itself, in so far as Jesse’s great-grandfather Salmon, whom Matthew
calls the husband of Rahab, is said Ruth iv. 20, as well as by Matthew,
to be the son of Nahshon, who, according to Numbers i. 7, lived in the
time of the march through the wilderness: [163] from which circumstance
the idea was naturally suggested, to marry his son with that Rahab who
saved the Israelitish spies, and thus to introduce a woman for whom the
Israelites had an especial regard (compare James ii. 25, Heb. xi. 31)
into the lineage of David and the Messiah.

Many discrepancies are found in the second division from David to
Zorobabel and his son, as well as in the beginning of the third.
Firstly, it is said v. 8 Joram begat Ozias; whereas we know from 1
Chron. iii. 11, 12, that Uzziah was not the son, but the grandson of
the son of Joram, and that three kings occur between them, namely,
Ahaziah, Joash, and Amaziah, after whom comes Uzziah (2 Chron. xxvi. 1,
or as he is called 1 Chron. iii. 12, and 2 Kings xiv. 21, Azariah).
Secondly: our genealogy says v. 11, Josias begat Jechonias and his
brethren. But we find from 1 Chron. iii. 16, that the son and successor
of Josiah was called Jehoiakim, after whom came his son and successor
Jechoniah or Jehoiachin. Moreover brethren are ascribed to Jechoniah,
whereas the Old Testament mentions none. Jehoiakim, however, had
brothers: so that the mention of the brethren of Jechonias in Matthew
appears to have originated in an exchange of these two persons.—A third
discrepancy relates to Zorobabel. He is here called, v. 12, a son of
Salathiel; whilst in 1 Chron. iii. 19, he is descended from Jechoniah,
not through Shealtiel, but through his brother Pedaiah. In Ezra v. 2,
and Haggai i. 1, however, Zerubbabel is designated, as here, the son of
Shealtiel.—In the last place, Abiud, who is here called the son of
Zorobabel, is not to be found amongst the children of Zerubbabel
mentioned 1 Chron. iii. 19 f.: perhaps because Abiud was only a surname
derived from a son of one of those there mentioned. [164]

The second and third of these discrepancies may have crept in without
evil intention, and without any great degree of carelessness, for the
omission of Jehoiakim may have arisen from the similar sound of the
names (‏יְהוֹיָקִים‎ and ‏יְהוֹיָכִין‎), which accounts also for the
transposition of the brothers of Jechoniah; whilst respecting Zorobabel
the reference to the Old Testament is partly adverse, partly
favourable. But the first discrepancy we have adduced, namely, the
omission of three known kings, is not so easily to be set aside. It has
indeed been held that the similarity of names may here also have led
the author to pass unintentionally from Joram to Ozias, instead of to
the similar sounding Ahaziah (in the LXX. Ochozias). But this omission
falls in so happily with the author’s design of the threefold fourteen
(admitting the double enumeration of David), that we cannot avoid
believing, with Jerome, that the oversight was made on purpose with a
view to it. [165] From Abraham to David, where the first division
presented itself, having found fourteen members, he seems to have
wished that those of the following divisions should correspond in
number. In the whole remaining series the Babylonish exile offered
itself as the natural point of separation. But as the second division
from David to the exile gave him four supernumerary members, therefore
he omitted four of the names. For what reason these particular four
were chosen would be difficult to determine, at least for the three
last mentioned.

The cause of the compiler’s laying so much stress on the threefold
equal numbers, may have been simply, that by this adoption of the
Oriental custom of division into equal sections, the genealogy might be
more easily committed to memory: [166] but with this motive a mystical
idea was probably combined. The question arises whether this is to be
sought in the number which is thrice repeated, or whether it consists
in the threefold repetition? Fourteen is the double of the sacred
number seven; but it is improbable that it was selected for this
reason, [167] because otherwise the seven would scarcely have been so
completely lost sight of in the fourteen. Still more improbable is the
conjecture of Olshausen, that the number fourteen was specially chosen
as being the numeric value of the name of David; [168] for puerilities
of this kind, appropriate to the rabbinical gematria, are to be found
in no other part of the Gospels. It is more likely that the object of
the genealogists consisted merely in the repetition of an equal number
by retaining the fourteen which had first accidentally presented
itself: since it was a notion of the Jews that signal divine
visitations, whether of prosperity or adversity, recurred at regular
periodical intervals. Thus, as fourteen generations had intervened
between Abraham, the founder of the holy people, and David the king
after God’s own heart, so fourteen generations must intervene between
the re-establishment of the kingdom and the coming of the son of David,
the Messiah. [169] The most ancient genealogies in Genesis exhibit the
very same uniformity. As according to the βὶβλος γενέσεως ἀνθρώπων,
cap. v., from Adam the first, to Noah the second, father of men, were
ten generations: so from Noah, or rather from his son, the tenth is
Abraham the father of the faithful. [170]

This à priori treatment of his subject, this Procrustes-bed upon which
the author of our genealogy now stretches, now curtails it, almost like
a philosopher constructing a system,—can excite no predisposition in
his favour. It is in vain to appeal to the custom of Oriental
genealogists to indulge themselves in similar licence; for when an
author presents us with a pedigree expressly declaring that all the
generations during a space of time were fourteen, whereas, through
accident or intention, many members are wanting,—he betrays an
arbitrariness and want of critical accuracy, which must shake our
confidence in the certainty of his whole genealogy.

The genealogy of Luke, considered separately, does not present so many
defects as that of Matthew. It has no concluding statement of the
number of generations comprised in the genealogy, to act as a check
upon itself, neither can it be tested, to much extent, by a comparison
with the Old Testament. For, from David to Nathan, the line traced by
Luke has no correspondence with any Old Testament genealogy, excepting
in two of its members, Salathiel and Zorobabel; and even with respect
to these two, there is a contradiction between the statement of Luke
and that of 1 Chron. iii. 17, 19 f.: for the former calls Salathiel a
son of Neri, whilst, according to the latter, he was the son of
Jechoniah. Luke also mentions one Resa as the son of Zorobabel, a name
which does not appear amongst the children of Zerubbabel in 1 Chron.
iii. 17, 19. Also, in the series before Abraham, Luke inserts a Cainan,
who is not to be found in the Hebrew text, Gen. x. 24; xi. 12 ff., but
who was however already inserted by the LXX. In fact, the original text
has this name in its first series as the third from Adam, and thence
the translation appears to have transplanted him to the corresponding
place in the second series as the third from Noah.

§ 21.

COMPARISON OF THE TWO GENEALOGIES—ATTEMPT TO RECONCILE THEIR
CONTRADICTIONS.

If we compare the genealogies of Matthew and Luke together, we become
aware of still more striking discrepancies. Some of these differences
indeed are unimportant, as the opposite direction of the two tables,
the line of Matthew descending from Abraham to Jesus, that of Luke
ascending from Jesus to his ancestors. Also the greater extent of the
line of Luke; Matthew deriving it no further than from Abraham, while
Luke (perhaps lengthening some existing document in order to make it
more consonant with the universalism of the doctrines of Paul) [171]
carries it back to Adam and to God himself. More important is the
considerable difference in the number of generations for equal periods,
Luke having 41 between David and Jesus, whilst Matthew has only 26. The
main difficulty, however, lies in this: that in some parts of the
genealogy, in Luke totally different individuals are made the ancestors
of Jesus from those of Matthew. It is true, both writers agree in
deriving the lineage of Jesus through Joseph from David and Abraham,
and that the names of the individual members of the series correspond
from Abraham to David, as well as two of the names in the subsequent
portion; those of Salathiel and Zorobabel. But the difficulty becomes
desperate when we find that, with these two exceptions about midway,
the whole of the names from David to the foster-father of Jesus are
totally different in Matthew and in Luke. In Matthew, the father of
Joseph is called Jacob; in Luke, Heli. In Matthew, the son of David
through whom Joseph descended from that king is Solomon; in Luke,
Nathan: and so on, the line descends, in Matthew, through the race of
known kings; in Luke, through an unknown collateral branch, coinciding
only with respect to Salathiel and Zorobabel, whilst they still differ
in the names of the father of Salathiel and the son of Zorobabel. Since
this difference appears to offer a complete contradiction, the most
industrious efforts have been made at all times to reconcile the two.
Passing in silence explanations evidently unsatisfactory, such as a
mystical signification, [172] or an arbitrary change of names, [173] we
shall consider two pairs of hypotheses which have been most
conspicuous, and are mutually supported, or at least bear affinity to
one another.

The first pair is formed upon the presupposition of Augustine, that
Joseph was an adopted son, and that one evangelist gave the name of his
real, the other that of his adopted, father [174]; and the opinion of
the old chronologist Julius Africanus, that a Levirate marriage had
taken place between the parents of Joseph, and that the one genealogy
belonged to the natural, the other to the legal, father of Joseph, by
the one of whom he was descended from David through Solomon, by the
other through Nathan. [175] The farther question: to which father do
the respective genealogies belong? is open to two species of criticism,
the one founded upon literal expressions, the other upon the spirit and
character of each gospel: and which lead to opposite conclusions.
Augustine as well as Africanus, has observed, that Matthew makes use of
an expression in describing the relationship between Joseph and his
so-called father, which more definitely points out the natural filial
relationship than that of Luke: for the former says Ἰακὼβ ἐγέννησε τὸν
Ἰωσὴφ: whilst the expression of the latter, Ἰωσὴφ τοῦ Ἠλὶ, appears
equally applicable to a son by adoption, or by virtue of a Levirate
marriage. But since the very object of a Levirate marriage was to
maintain the name and race of a deceased childless brother, it was the
Jewish custom to inscribe the first-born son of such a marriage, not on
the family register of his natural father, as Matthew has done here,
but on that of his legal father, as Luke has done on the above
supposition. Now that a person so entirely imbued with Jewish opinions
as the author of the first Gospel, should have made a mistake of this
kind, cannot be held probable. Accordingly, Schleiermacher and others
conceive themselves bound by the spirit of the two Gospels to admit
that Matthew, in spite of his ἐγέννησε, must have given the lineage of
the legal father, according to Jewish custom: whilst Luke, who perhaps
was not born a Jew, and was less familiar with Jewish habits, might
have fallen upon the genealogy of the younger brothers of Joseph, who
were not, like the firstborn, inscribed amongst the family of the
deceased legal father, but with that of their natural father, and might
have taken this for the genealogical table of the first-born Joseph,
whilst it really belonged to him only by natural descent, to which
Jewish genealogists paid no regard. [176] But, besides the fact, which
we shall show hereafter, that the genealogy of Luke can with difficulty
be proved to be the work of the author of that Gospel:—in which case
the little acquaintance of Luke with Jewish customs ceases to afford
any clue to the meaning of this genealogy;—it is also to be objected,
that the genealogist of the first Gospel could not have written his
ἐγέννησε thus without any addition, if he was thinking of a mere legal
paternity. Wherefore these two views of the genealogical relationship
are equally difficult.

However, this hypothesis, which we have hitherto considered only in
general, requires a more detailed examination in order to judge of its
admissibility. In considering the proposition of a Levirate marriage,
the argument is essentially the same if, with Augustine and Africanus,
we ascribe the naming of the natural father to Matthew, or with
Schleiermacher, to Luke. As an example we shall adopt the former
statement: the rather because Eusebius, according to Africanus, has
left us a minute account of it. According to this representation, then,
the mother of Joseph was first married to that person whom Luke calls
the father of Joseph, namely Heli. But since Heli died without
children, by virtue of the Levirate law, his brother, called by Matthew
Jacob the father of Joseph, married the widow, and by her begot Joseph,
who was legally regarded as the son of the deceased Heli, and so
described by Luke, whilst naturally he was the son of his brother
Jacob, and thus described by Matthew.

But, merely thus far, the hypothesis is by no means adequate. For if
the two fathers of Joseph were real brothers, sons of the same father,
they had one and the same lineage, and the two genealogies would have
differed only in the father of Joseph, all the preceding portion being
in agreement. In order to explain how the discordancy extends so far
back as to David, we must have recourse to the second proposition of
Africanus, that the fathers of Joseph were only half-brothers, having
the same mother, but not the same father. We must also suppose that
this mother of the two fathers of Joseph, had twice married; once with
the Matthan of Matthew, who was descended from David through Solomon
and the line of kings, and to whom she bore Jacob; and also, either
before or after, with the Matthat of Luke, the offspring of which
marriage was Heli: which Heli, having married and died childless, his
half-brother Jacob married his widow, and begot for the deceased his
legal child Joseph.

This hypothesis of so complicated a marriage in two successive
generations, to which we are forced by the discrepancy of the two
genealogies, must be acknowledged to be in no way impossible, but still
highly improbable: and the difficulty is doubled by the untoward
agreement already noticed, which occurs midway in the discordant
series, in the two members Salathiel and Zorobabel. For to explain how
Neri in Luke, and Jechonias in Matthew, are both called the father of
Salathiel, who was the father of Zorobabel;—not only must the
supposition of the Levirate marriage be repeated, but also that the two
brothers who successively married the same wife, were brothers only on
the mother’s side. The difficulty is not diminished by the remark, that
any nearest blood-relation, not only a brother, might succeed in a
Levirate marriage,—that is to say, though not obligatory, it was at
least open to his choice (Ruth iii. 12. f., iv. 4 f. [177]). For since
even in the case of two cousins, the concurrence of the two branches
must take place much earlier than here for Jacob and Eli, and for
Jechonias and Neri, we are still obliged to have recourse to the
hypothesis of half-brothers; the only amelioration in this hypothesis
over the other being, that these two very peculiar marriages do not
take place in immediately consecutive generations. Now that this
extraordinary double incident should not only have been twice repeated,
but that the genealogists should twice have made the same selection in
their statements respecting the natural and the legal father, and
without any explanation,—is so improbable, that even the hypothesis of
an adoption, which is burdened with only one-half of these
difficulties, has still more than it can bear. For in the case of
adoption, since no fraternal or other relationship is required, between
the natural and adopting fathers, the recurrence to a twice-repeated
half-brotherhood is dispensed with; leaving only the necessity for
twice supposing a relationship by adoption, and twice the peculiar
circumstance, that the one genealogist from want of acquaintance with
Jewish customs was ignorant of the fact, and the other, although he
took account of it, was silent respecting it.

It has been thought by later critics that the knot may be loosed in a
much easier way, by supposing that in one Gospel we have the genealogy
of Joseph, in the other that of Mary, in which case there would be no
contradiction in the disagreement: [178] to which they are pleased to
add the assumption that Mary was an heiress. [179] The opinion that
Mary was of the race of David as well as Joseph has been long held.
Following indeed the idea, that the Messiah, as a second Melchizedec,
ought to unite in his person the priestly with the kingly dignity,
[180] and guided by the relationship of Mary with Elizabeth, who was a
daughter of Aaron (Luke i. 36); already in early times it was not only
held by many that the races of Judah and Levi were blended in the
family of Joseph; [181] but also the opinion was not rare that Jesus,
deriving his royal lineage from Joseph, descended also from the
priestly race through Mary. [182] The opinion of Mary’s descent from
David, soon however became the more prevailing. Many apocryphal writers
clearly state this opinion, [183] as well as Justin Martyr, whose
expression, that the virgin was of the race of David, Jacob, Isaac, and
Abraham, may be considered an indication that he applied to Mary one of
our genealogies, which are both traced back to Abraham through David.
[184]

On inquiring which of these two genealogies is to be held that of Mary?
we are stopped by an apparently insurmountable obstacle, since each is
distinctly announced as the genealogy of Joseph; the one in the words
Ἰακὼβ ἐγέννησε τὸν Ἰωσὴφ, the other by the phrase υἱὸς Ἰωσὴφ τοῦ Ἠλΐ.
Here also, however, the ἐγέννησε of Matthew is more definite than the
τοῦ of Luke, which according to those interpreters may mean just as
well a son-in-law or grandson; so that the genitive of Luke in iii. 23
was either intended to express that Jesus was in common estimation a
son of Joseph, who was the son-in-law of Heli, the father of Mary
[185]:—or else, that Jesus was, as was believed, a son of Joseph, and
through Mary a grandson of Heli. [186] As it may here be objected, that
the Jews in their genealogies were accustomed to take no account of the
female line, [187] a farther hypothesis is had recourse to, namely,
that Mary was an heiress, i.e. the daughter of a father without sons:
and that in this case, according to Numbers xxxvi. 6, and Nehemiah vii.
63, Jewish custom required that the person who married her should not
only be of the same race with herself, but that he should henceforth
sink his own family in hers, and take her ancestors as his own. But the
first point only is proved by the reference to Numbers; and the passage
in Nehemiah, compared with several similar ones (Ezra ii. 61; Numbers
xxxii. 41; comp. with 1 Chron. ii. 21 f.), shows only that sometimes,
by way of exception, a man took the name of his maternal ancestors.
This difficulty with regard to Jewish customs, however, is cast into
shade by one much more important. Although undeniably the genitive case
used by Luke, expressing simply derivation in a general sense, may
signify any degree of relationship, and consequently that of son-in-law
or grandson; yet this interpretation destroys the consistency of the
whole passage. In the thirty-four preceding members, which are well
known to us from the Old Testament, this genitive demonstrably
indicates throughout the precise relationship of a son; likewise when
it occurs between Salathiel and Zorobabel: how could it be intended in
the one instance of Joseph to indicate that of son-in-law? or,
according to the other interpretation, supposing the nominative υἱὸς to
govern the whole series, how can we suppose it to change its
signification from son to grandson, great-grandson, and so on to the
end? If it be said the phrase Ἀδὰμ τοῦ θεοῦ is a proof that the
genitive does not necessarily indicate a son in the proper sense of the
word, we may reply that it bears a signification with regard to the
immediate Author of existence equally inapplicable to either
father-in-law or grandfather.

A further difficulty is encountered by this explanation of the two
genealogies in common with the former one, in the concurrence of the
two names of Salathiel and Zorobabel. The supposition of a Levirate
marriage is as applicable to this explanation as the other, but the
interpreters we are now examining prefer for the most part to suppose,
that these similar names in the different genealogies belong to
different persons. When Luke however, in the twenty-first and
twenty-second generations from David, gives the very same names that
Matthew (including the four omitted generations), gives in the
nineteenth and twentieth, one of these names being of great notoriety,
it is certainly impossible to doubt that they refer to the same
persons.

Moreover, in no other part of the New Testament is there any trace to
be found of the Davidical descent of Mary: on the contrary, some
passages are directly opposed to it. In Luke i. 27, the expression ἐξ
οἴκου Δαβίδ refers only to the immediately preceding ἀνδρὶ ᾡ ὄνομα
Ἰωσὴφ, not to the more remote παρθένον μεμνηστευμένην. And more pointed
still is the turn of the sentence in Luke ii. 4, ἀνέβη δὲ καὶ Ἰωσὴφ—διὰ
τὸ ἐ͂ναι αὐτὸν ἐξ οἴκου καὶ πατριᾶς Δαβίδ, ἀπογράψασθαι σὺν Μαρία
κ.τ.λ., where αὐτοὺς might so easily have been written instead of
αὐτὸν, if the author had any thought of including Mary in the descent
from David. These expressions fill to overflowing the measure of proof
already adduced, that it is impossible to apply the genealogy of the
third Evangelist to Mary.

§ 22.

THE GENEALOGIES UNHISTORICAL.

A consideration of the insurmountable difficulties, which unavoidably
embarrass every attempt to bring these two genealogies into harmony
with one another, will lead us to despair of reconciling them, and will
incline us to acknowledge, with the more free-thinking class of
critics, that they are mutually contradictory. [188] Consequently they
cannot both be true: if, therefore, one is to be preferred before the
other, several circumstances would seem to decide in favour of the
genealogy of Luke, rather than that of Matthew. It does not exhibit an
arbitrary adherence to a fixed form and to equal periods: and whilst
the ascribing of twenty generations to the space of time from David to
Jechonias or Neri, in Luke, is at least not more offensive to
probability, than the omission of four generations in Matthew to
historical truth; Luke’s allotment of twenty-two generations from the
period from Jechonias (born 617 B.C.) to Jesus, i.e. about 600 years,
forming an average of twenty-seven years and a half to each generation,
is more consonant with natural events, particularly amongst eastern
nations, than the thirteen generations of Matthew, which make an
average of forty-two years for each. Besides the genealogy of Luke is
less liable than that of Matthew to the suspicion of having been
written with a design to glorify Jesus, since it contents itself with
ascribing to Jesus a descent from David, without tracing that descent
through the royal line. On the other hand, however, it is more
improbable that the genealogy of the comparatively insignificant family
of Nathan should have been preserved, than that of the royal branch.
Added to which, the frequent recurrence of the same names is, as justly
remarked by Hoffmann, an indication that the genealogy of Luke is
fictitious.

In fact then neither table has any advantage over the other. If the one
is unhistorical, so also is the other, since it is very improbable that
the genealogy of an obscure family like that of Joseph, extending
through so long a series of generations, should have been preserved
during all the confusion of the exile, and the disturbed period that
followed. Yet, it may be said, although we recognise in both, so far as
they are not copied from the Old Testament, and unrestrained play of
the imagination, or arbitrary applications of other genealogies to
Jesus,—we may still retain as an historical basis that Jesus descended
from David, and that only the intermediate members of the line of
descent were variously filled up by different writers. But the one
event on which this historical basis is mainly supported, namely, the
journey of the parents of Jesus to Bethlehem in order to be taxed, so
far from sufficing to prove them to be of the house and lineage of
David, is itself, as we shall presently show, by no means established
as matter of history. Of more weight is the other ground, namely, that
Jesus is universally represented in the New Testament, without any
contradiction from his adversaries, as the descendant of David. Yet
even the phrase ὑιὸς Δαβὶδ is a predicate that may naturally have been
applied to Jesus, not on historical, but on dogmatical grounds.
According to the prophecies, the Messiah could only spring from David.
When therefore a Galilean, whose lineage was utterly unknown, and of
whom consequently no one could prove that he was not descended from
David, had acquired the reputation of being the Messiah; what more
natural than that tradition should under different forms have early
ascribed to him a Davidical descent, and that genealogical tables,
corresponding with this tradition, should have been formed? which,
however, as they were constructed upon no certain data, would
necessarily exhibit such differences and contradictions as we find
actually existing between the genealogies in Matthew and in Luke. [189]

If, in conclusion, it be asked, what historical result is to be deduced
from these genealogies? we reply: a conviction (arrived at also from
other sources), that Jesus, either in his own person or through his
disciples, acting upon minds strongly imbued with Jewish notions and
expectations, left among his followers so firm a conviction of his
Messiahship, that they did not hesitate to attribute to him the
prophetical characteristic of Davidical descent, and more than one pen
was put in action, in order, by means of a genealogy which should
authenticate that descent, to justify his recognition as the Messiah.
[190]

CHAPTER III.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE CONCEPTION OF JESUS.—ITS SUPERNATURAL
CHARACTER.—VISIT OF MARY TO ELIZABETH.

§ 23.

SKETCH OF THE DIFFERENT CANONICAL AND APOCRYPHAL ACCOUNTS.

There is a striking gradation in the different representations of the
conception and birth of Jesus given in the canonical and in the
apocryphal Gospels. They exhibit the various steps, from a simple
statement of a natural occurrence, to a minute and miraculously
embellished history, in which the event is traced back to its very
earliest date. Mark and John presuppose the fact of the birth of Jesus,
and content themselves with the incidental mention of Mary as the
mother (Mark vi. 3), and of Joseph as the father of Jesus (John i. 46).
Matthew and Luke go further back, since they state the particular
circumstances attending the conception as well as the birth of the
Messiah. But of these two evangelists Luke mounts a step higher than
Matthew. According to the latter Mary, the betrothed of Joseph, being
found with child, Joseph is offended, and determines to put her away;
but the angel of the Lord visits him in a dream, and assures him of the
divine origin and exalted destiny of Mary’s offspring; the result of
which is that Joseph takes unto him his wife: but knows her not till
she has brought forth her first-born son. (Matt. i. 18–25.) Here the
pregnancy is discovered in the first place, and then afterwards
justified by the angel; but in Luke the pregnancy is prefaced and
announced by a celestial apparition. The same Gabriel, who had
predicted the birth of John to Zacharias, appears to Mary, the
betrothed of Joseph, and tells her that she shall conceive by the power
of the Holy Ghost; whereupon the destined mother of the Messiah pays a
visit full of holy import to the already pregnant mother of his
forerunner; upon which occasion both Mary and Elizabeth pour forth
their emotions to one another in the form of a hymn (Luke i. 26–56).
Matthew and Luke are content to presuppose the connexion between Mary
and Joseph; but the apocryphal Gospels, the Protevangelium Jacobi, and
the Evangelium de Nativitate Mariae, [191] (books with the contents of
which the Fathers partially agree,) seek to represent the origin of
this connexion; indeed they go back to the birth of Mary, and describe
it to have been preceded, equally with that of the Messiah and the
Baptist, by a divine annunciation. As the description of the birth of
John in Luke is principally borrowed from the Old Testament accounts of
Samuel and of Samson, so this history of the birth of Mary is an
imitation of the history in Luke, and of the Old Testament histories.

Joachim, so says the apocryphal narrative, and Anna (the name of
Samuel’s mother [192]) are unhappy on account of their long childless
marriage (as were the parents of the Baptist); when an angel appears to
them both (so in the history of Samson) at different places, and
promises them a child, who shall be the mother of God, and commands
that this child shall live the life of a Nazarite (like the Baptist).
In early childhood Mary is brought by her parents to the temple (like
Samuel); where she continues till her twelfth year, visited and fed by
angels and honoured by divine visions. Arrived at womanhood she is to
quit the temple, her future provision and destiny being revealed by the
oracle to the high priest. In conformity with the prophecy of Isaiah
xi. 1 f.: egredietur virga de radice Jesse, et flos de radice ejus
ascendet, et requiescet super eum spiritus Domini; this oracle
commanded, according to one Gospel, [193] that all the unmarried men of
the house of David,—according to the other, [194] that all the widowers
among the people,—should bring their rods, and that he on whose rod a
sign should appear (like the rod of Aaron, Numb. xvii.), namely the
sign predicted in the prophecy, should take Mary unto himself. This
sign was manifested upon Joseph’s rod; for, in exact accordance with
the oracle, it put forth a blossom and a dove lighted upon it. [195]
The apocryphal Gospels and the Fathers agree in representing Joseph as
an old man; [196] but the narrative is somewhat differently told in the
two apocryphal Gospels. According to the Evang. de nativ. Mariae,
notwithstanding Mary’s alleged vow of chastity, and the refusal of
Joseph on account of his great age, betrothment took place at the
command of the priest, and subsequently a marriage—(which marriage,
however, the author evidently means to represents also as chaste).
According to the Protevang. Jacobi, on the contrary, neither
betrothment nor marriage are mentioned, but Joseph is regarded merely
as the chosen protector of the young virgin, [197] and Joseph on the
journey to Bethlehem doubts whether he shall describe his charge as his
wife or as his daughter; fearing to bring ridicule upon himself, on
account of his age, if he called her his wife. Again, where in Matthew
Mary is called ἡ γυνὴ of Joseph, the apocryphal Gospel carefully
designates her merely as ἡ παῖς, and even avoids using the term
παραλαβεῖν or substitutes διαφυλάξαι with which many of the Fathers
concur. [198] In the Protevangelium it is further related that Mary,
having been received into Joseph’s house, was charged, together with
other young women, with the fabrication of the veil for the temple, and
that it fell to her lot to spin the true purple.—But whilst Joseph was
absent on business Mary was visited by an angel, and Joseph on his
return found her with child and called her to account, not as a
husband, but as the guardian of her honour. Mary, however, had
forgotten the words of the angel and protested her ignorance of the
cause of her pregnancy. Joseph was perplexed and determined to remove
her secretly from under his protection; but an angel appeared to him in
a dream and reassured him by his explanation. The matter was then
brought before the priest, and both Joseph and Mary being charged with
incontinence were condemned to drink the “bitter water,” [199] ὕδωρ τῆς
ἐλένξεως, but as they remained uninjured by it, they were declared
innocent. Then follows the account of the taxing and of the birth of
Jesus. [200]

Since these apocryphal narratives were for a long period held as
historical by the church, and were explained, equally with those of the
canonical accounts, from the supranaturalistic point of view as
miraculous, they were entitled in modern times to share with the New
Testament histories the benefit of the natural explanation. If, on the
one hand, the belief in the marvellous was so superabundantly strong in
the ancient church, that it reached beyond the limits of the New
Testament even to the embracing of the apocryphal narratives, blinding
the eye to the perception of their manifestly unhistorical character;
so, on the other hand, the positive rationalism of some of the heralds
of the modern modes of explanation was so overstrong that they believed
it adequate to explain even the apocryphal miracles. Of this we have an
example in the author of the natural history of the great prophet of
Nazareth; [201] who does not hesitate to include the stories of the
lineage and early years of Mary within the circle of his
representations, and to give them a natural explanation. If we in our
day, with a perception of the fabulous character of such narratives,
look down alike upon the Fathers of the church and upon these
naturalistic interpreters, we are certainly so far in the right, as it
is only by gross ignorance that this character of the apocryphal
accounts is here to be mistaken; more closely considered, however, the
difference between the apocryphal and the canonical narratives
concerning the early history of the Baptist and of Jesus, is seen to be
merely a difference of form: they have sprung, as we shall hereafter
find, from the same root, though the one is a fresh and healthy sprout,
and the other an artificially nurtured and weak aftergrowth. Still, the
Fathers of the church and these naturalistic interpreters had this
superiority over most of the theologians of our own time; that they did
not allow themselves to be deceived respecting the inherent similarity
by the difference of form, but interpreted the kindred narratives by
the same method; treating both as miraculous or both as natural; and
not, as is now usual, the one as fiction and the other as history.

§ 24.

DISAGREEMENTS OF THE CANONICAL GOSPELS IN RELATION TO THE FORM OF THE
ANNUNCIATION.

After the foregoing general sketch, we now proceed to examine the
external circumstances which, according to our Gospels, attended the
first communication of the future birth of Jesus to Mary and Joseph.
Leaving out of sight, for the present, the special import of the
annunciation, namely, that Jesus should be supernaturally begotten of
the Holy Ghost, we shall, in the first place, consider merely the form
of the announcement; by whom, when, and in what manner it was made.

As the birth of the Baptist was previously announced by an angel, so
the conception of Jesus was, according to the gospel histories,
proclaimed after the same fashion. But whilst, in the one case, we have
but one history of the apparition, that of Luke; in the other we have
two accounts, accounts however which do not correspond, and which we
must now compare. Apart from the essential signification the two
accounts exhibit the following differences. 1. The individual who
appears is called in Matthew by the indefinite appellation, angel of
the Lord, ἄγγελος Κυρίου: in Luke by name, the angel Gabriel, ὁ ἄγγελος
Γαβριὴλ. 2. The person to whom the angel appears is, according to
Matthew, Joseph, according to Luke, Mary. 3. In Matthew the apparition
is seen in a dream, in Luke whilst awake. 4. There is a disagreement in
relation to the time at which the apparition took place: according to
Matthew, Joseph receives the heavenly communication after Mary was
already pregnant: according to Luke it is made to Mary prior to her
pregnancy. 5. Lastly, both the purpose of the apparition and the effect
produced are different; it was designed, according to Matthew, to
comfort Joseph, who was troubled on account of the pregnancy of his
betrothed: according to Luke to prevent, by a previous announcement,
all possibility of offence.

Where the discrepancies are so great and so essential, it may, at first
sight, appear altogether superfluous to inquire whether the two
Evangelists record one and the same occurrence, though with
considerable disagreement; or whether they record distinct occurrences,
so that the two accounts can be blended together, and the one be made
to amplify the other? The first supposition cannot be admitted without
impeaching the historical validity of the narrative; for which reason
most of our theologians, indeed all who see in the narrative a true
history, whether miraculous or natural, have decided in favour of the
second supposition. Maintaining, and justly, that the silence of one
Evangelist concerning an event which is narrated by the other, is not a
negation of the event, [202] they blend the two accounts together in
the following manner: 1, First, the angel makes known to Mary her
approaching pregnancy (Luke); 2, she then journeys to Elizabeth (the
same Gospel); 3, after her return her situation being discovered,
Joseph takes offence (Matthew); whereupon, 4, he likewise is visited by
an angelic apparition (the same Gospel [203]).

But this arrangement of the incidents is, as Schleiermacher has already
remarked, full of difficulty [204]; and it seems that what is related
by one Evangelist is not only not presupposed, but excluded, by the
other. For, in the first place, the conduct of the angel who appears to
Joseph is not easily explained, if the same or another angel had
previously appeared to Mary. The angel (in Matthew) speaks altogether
as if his communication were the first in this affair: he neither
refers to the message previously received by Mary, nor reproaches
Joseph because he had not believed it; but more than all, the informing
Joseph of the name of the expected child, and the giving him a full
detail of the reasons why he should be so called, (Matt. i. 21) would
have been wholly superfluous had the angel (according to Luke i. 34)
already indicated this name to Mary.

Still more incomprehensible is the conduct of the betrothed parties
according to this arrangement of events. Had Mary been visited by an
angel, who had made known to her an approaching supernatural pregnancy,
would not the first impulse of a delicate woman have been, to hasten to
impart to her betrothed the import of the divine message, and by this
means to anticipate the humiliating discovery of her situation, and an
injurious suspicion on the part of her affianced husband. But exactly
this discovery Mary allows Joseph to make from others, and thus excites
suspicions; for it is evident that the expression εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ
ἔχουσα (Matt. i. 18) signifies a discovery made independent of any
communication on Mary’s part, and it is equally clear that in this
manner only does Joseph obtain the knowledge of her situation, since
his conduct is represented as the result of that discovery
(εὑρίσκεσθαι). The apocryphal Protevangelium Jacobi felt how
enigmatical Mary’s conduct must appear, and sought to solve the
difficulty in a manner which, contemplated from the supranaturalistic
point of view, is perhaps the most consistent. Had Mary retained a
recollection of the import of the heavenly message—upon this point the
whole ingenious representation of the apocryphal Gospel rests—she ought
to have imparted it to Joseph; but since it is obvious from Joseph’s
demeanour that she did not acquaint him with it, the only remaining
alternative is, to admit that the mysterious communication made to Mary
had, owing to her excited state of mind, escaped her memory, and that
she was herself ignorant of the true cause of her pregnancy. [205] In
fact, nothing is left to supranaturalism in the present case but to
seek refuge in the miraculous and the incomprehensible. The attempts
which the modern theologians of this class have made to explain Mary’s
silence, and even to find in it an admirable trait in her character,
are so many rash and abortive efforts to make a virtue of necessity.
According to Hess [206] it must have cost Mary much self-denial to have
concealed the communication of the angel from Joseph; and this reserve,
in a matter known only to herself and to God, must be regarded as a
proof of her firm trust in God. Without doubt Mary communed thus with
herself: It is not without a purpose that this apparition has been made
to me alone; had it been intended that Joseph should have participated
in the communication, the angel would have appeared to him also (if
each individual favoured with a divine revelation were of this opinion,
how many special revelations would it not require?); besides it is an
affair of God alone, consequently it becomes me to leave it with him to
convince Joseph (the argument of indolence). Olshausen concurs, and
adds his favourite general remark, that in relation to events so
extraordinary the measure of the ordinary occurrences of the world is
not applicable: a category under which, in this instance, the highly
essential considerations of delicacy and propriety are included.

More in accordance with the views of the natural interpreters, the
Evangelium de nativitate Mariae, [207] and subsequently some later
writers, for example, the author of the Natural History of the Great
Prophet of Nazareth, have sought to explain Mary’s silence, by
supposing Joseph to have been at a distance from the abode of his
affianced bride at the time of the heavenly communication. According to
them Mary was of Nazareth, Joseph of Bethlehem; to which latter place
Joseph departed after the betrothing, and did not return to Mary until
the expiration of three months, when he discovered the pregnancy which
had taken place in the interim. But since the assumption that Mary and
Joseph resided in different localities has no foundation, as will
presently be seen, in the canonical Gospels, the whole explanation
falls to the ground. Without such an assumption, Mary’s silence towards
Joseph might, perhaps, have been accounted for from the point of view
of the naturalistic interpreters, by imagining her to have been held
back through modesty from confessing a situation so liable to excite
suspicion. But one who, like Mary, was so fully convinced of the divine
agency in the matter, and had shown so ready a comprehension of her
mysterious destination (Luke i. 38), could not possibly have been
tongue-tied by petty considerations of false shame.

Consequently, in order to rescue Mary’s character, without bringing
reproach upon Joseph’s, and at the same time to render his unbelief
intelligible, interpreters have been compelled to assume that a
communication, though a tardy one, was actually made by Mary to Joseph.
Like the last-named apocryphal Gospel, they introduce a journey, not of
Joseph, but of Mary—the visit to Elizabeth mentioned in Luke—to account
for the postponement of the communication. It is probable, says Paulus,
that Mary did not open her heart to Joseph before this journey, because
she wished first to consult with her older friend as to the mode of
making the disclosure to him, and whether she, as the mother of the
Messiah, ought to marry.

It was not till after her return, and then most likely through the
medium of others, that she made Joseph acquainted with her situation,
and with the promises she had received. But Joseph’s mind was not
properly attuned and prepared for such a disclosure; he became haunted
by all kinds of thoughts; and vacillated between suspicion and hope
till at length a dream decided him. [208] But in the first place a
motive is here given to Mary’s journey which is foreign to the account
in Luke. Mary sets off to Elizabeth, not to take counsel of her, but to
assure herself regarding the sign appointed by the angel. No uneasiness
which the friend is to dissipate, but a proud joy, unalloyed by the
smallest anxiety, is expressed in her salutation to the future mother
of the Baptist. But besides, a confession so tardily made can in nowise
justify Mary. What behaviour on the part of an affianced bride—after
having received a divine communication, so nearly concerning her future
husband, and in a matter so delicate—to travel miles away, to absent
herself for three months, and then to permit her betrothed to learn
through third persons that which could no longer be concealed!

Those, therefore, who do not impute to Mary a line of conduct which
certainly our Evangelists do not impute to her, must allow that she
imparted the message of the angel to her future husband as soon as it
had been revealed to her; but that he did not believe her. [209] But
now let us see how Joseph’s character is to be dealt with! Even Hess is
of opinion that, since Joseph was acquainted with Mary, he had no cause
to doubt her word, when she told him of the apparition she had had.
This scepticism presupposes a mistrust of his betrothed which is
incompatible with his character as a just man (Matt. i. 19), and an
incredulity respecting the marvellous which is difficult to reconcile
with a readiness on other occasions to believe in angelic apparitions;
nor, in any case, would this want of faith have escaped the censure of
the angel who subsequently appeared to himself.

Since then, to suppose that the two accounts are parallel, and complete
one another, leads unavoidably to results inconsistent with the sense
of the Gospels, in so far as they evidently meant to represent the
characters of Joseph and Mary as free from blemish; the supposition
cannot be admitted, but the accounts mutually exclude each other. An
angel did not appear, first to Mary, and also afterwards to Joseph; he
can only have appeared either to the one or to the other. Consequently,
it is only the one or the other relation which can be regarded as
historical. And here different considerations would conduct to opposite
decisions. The history in Matthew might appear the more probable from
the rationalistic point of view, because it is more easy to interpret
naturally an apparition in a dream; whilst that in Luke might be
preferred by the supranaturalist, because the manner in which the
suspicion cast upon the holy virgin is refuted is more worthy of God.
But in fact, a nearer examination proves, that neither has any
essential claim to be advanced before the other. Both contain an
angelic apparition, and both are therefore encumbered with all the
difficulties which, as was stated above in relation to the annunciation
of the birth of the Baptist, oppose the belief in angels and
apparitions. Again, in both narrations the import of the angelic
message is, as we shall presently see, an impossibility. Thus every
criterion which might determine the adoption of the one, and the
rejection of the other, disappears; and we find ourselves, in reference
to both accounts, driven back by necessity to the mythical view.

From this point of view, all the various explanations, which the
Rationalists have attempted to give of the two apparitions, vanish of
themselves. Paulus explains the apparition in Matthew as a natural
dream, occasioned by Mary’s previous communication of the announcement
which had been made to her; and with which Joseph must have been
acquainted, because this alone can account for his having heard the
same words in his dream, which the angel had beforehand addressed to
Mary: but much rather, is it precisely this similarity in the language
of the presumed second angel to that of the first, with the absence of
all reference by the latter to the former, which proves that the words
of the first angel were not presupposed by the second. Besides, the
natural explanation is annihilated the moment the narratives are shown
to be mythical. The same remark applies to the explanation, expressed
guardedly indeed by Paulus, but openly by the author of the Natural
History of the Great Prophet of Nazareth, namely, that the angel who
visited Mary (in Luke) was a human being; of which we must speak
hereafter.

According to all that has been said, the following is the only judgment
we can form of the origin of the two narratives of the angelic
apparitions. The conception of Jesus through the power of the Holy
Ghost ought not to be grounded upon a mere uncertain suspicion; it must
have been clearly and positively asserted; and to this end a messenger
from heaven was required, since theocratic decorum seemed to demand it
far more in relation to the birth of the Messiah, than of a Samson or a
John. Also the words which the angels use, correspond in part with the
Old Testament annunciations of extraordinary children. [210] The
appearing of the angel in the one narrative beforehand to Mary, but in
the other at a later period to Joseph, is to be regarded as a variation
in the legend or in the composition, which finds an explanatory
counterpart in the history of the annunciation of Isaac. Jehovah (Gen.
xvii. 15) promises Abraham a son by Sarah, upon which the Patriarch
cannot refrain from laughing; but he receives a repetition of the
assurance; Jehovah (Gen. xviii. 1 ff.) makes this promise under the
Terebinth tree at Mamre, and Sarah laughs as if it were something
altogether novel and unheard of by her; lastly, according to Genesis
xxi. 5 ff. it is first after Isaac’s birth that Sarah mentions the
laughing of the people, which is said to have been the occasion of his
name; whereby it appears that this last history does not presuppose the
existence of the two other accounts of the annunciation of the birth of
Isaac. [211] As in relation to the birth of Isaac, different legends or
poems were formed without reference to one another, some simpler, some
more embellished: so we have two discordant narratives concerning the
birth of Jesus. Of these the narrative in Matthew [212] is the simpler
and ruder style of composition, since it does not avoid, though it be
but by a transient suspicion on the part of Joseph, the throwing a
shade over the character of Mary which is only subsequently removed;
that in Luke, on the contrary, is a more refined and artistical
representation, exhibiting Mary from the first in the pure light of a
bride of heaven. [213]

§ 25.

IMPORT OF THE ANGEL’S MESSAGE.—FULFILMENT OF THE PROPHECY OF ISAIAH.

According to Luke, the angel who appears to Mary, in the first place
informs her only that she shall become pregnant, without specifying
after what manner: that she shall bring forth a son and call his name
Jesus; He shall be great, and shall he called the Son of the Highest
(υἱὸς ὑψίστου); and God shall give unto him the throne of his father
David, and he shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever. The
subject, the Messiah is here treated precisely in the language common
to the Jews, and even the term Son of the Highest, if nothing further
followed, must be taken in the same sense; as according to 2 Sam. vii.
14, Ps. ii. 7 an ordinary king of Israel might be so named; still more,
therefore, the greatest of these kings, the Messiah, even considered
merely as a man. This Jewish language reflects in addition a new light
upon the question of the historic validity of the angelic apparition;
for we must agree with Schleiermacher that the real angel Gabriel would
hardly have proclaimed the advent of the Messiah in a phraseology so
strictly Jewish: [214] for which reason we are inclined to coincide
with this theologian, and to ascribe this particular portion of the
history, as also that which precedes and relates to the Baptist, to one
and the same Jewish-christian author. It is not till Mary opposes the
fact of her virginity to the promises of a son, that the angel defines
the nature of the conception: that it shall be by the Holy Ghost, by
the power of the Highest; after which the appellation υἱὸς θεοῦ
receives a more precise metaphysical sense. As a confirmatory sign that
a matter of this kind is nowise impossible to God, Mary is referred to
that which had occurred to her relative Elizabeth; whereupon she
resigns herself in faith to the divine determination respecting her.

In Matthew, where the main point is to dissipate Joseph’s anxiety, the
angel begins at once with the communication, that the child conceived
by Mary is (as the Evangelist had already stated of his own accord,
chap. i. 18), of the Holy Ghost (πνεῦμα ἅγιον); and hereupon the
Messianic destination of Jesus is first pointed out by the expression,
He shall save his people from their sins. This language may seem to
sound less Jewish than that by which the Messianic station of the child
who should be born, is set forth in Luke; it is however to be observed,
that under the term sins (ἁμαρτίαις) is comprehended the punishment of
those sins, namely, the subjection of the people to a foreign yoke; so
that here also the Jewish element is not wanting; as neither in Luke,
on the other hand, is the higher destination of the Messiah left wholly
out of sight, since under the term to reign, βασιλεύειν, the rule over
an obedient and regenerated people is included. Next is subjoined by
the angel, or more probably by the narrator, an oracle from the Old
Testament, introduced by the often recurring phrase, all this was done,
that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet
[v. 22]. It is the prophecy from Isaiah (chap. vii. 14) which the
conception of Jesus after this manner should accomplish: namely, a
virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall
call His name Emmanuel—God-with-us.

The original sense of this passage in Isaiah is, according to modern
research, [215] this. The prophet is desirous of giving Ahaz, who,
through fear of the kings of Syria and Israel, was disposed to make a
treaty with Assyria, a lively assurance of the speedy destruction of
his much dreaded enemies; and he therefore says to him: suppose that an
unmarried woman now on the point of becoming a wife [216] shall
conceive; or categorically: a certain young woman is, or is about to be
with child (perhaps the prophet’s own wife); now, before this child is
born, the political aspect of affairs shall be so much improved, that a
name of good omen shall be given to the child; and before he shall be
old enough to use his reason, the power of these enemies shall be
completely annihilated. That is to say, prosaically expressed: before
nine months shall have passed away, the condition of the kingdom shall
be amended, and within about three years the danger shall have
disappeared. Thus much, at all events, is demonstrated by modern
criticism, that, under the circumstances stated by Isaiah in the
introduction to the oracle, it is only a sign having reference to the
actual moment and the near future, which could have any meaning. How
ill chosen, according to Hengstenberg’s [217] interpretation, is the
prophet’s language: As certainly as the day shall arrive when, in
fulfilment of the covenant, the Messiah shall be born, so impossible is
it that the people among whom he shall arise, or the family whence he
shall spring, shall pass away. How ill-judged, on the part of the
prophet, to endeavour to make the improbability of a speedy deliverance
appear less improbable, by an appeal to a yet greater improbability in
the far distant future!—And then the given limit of a few years! The
overthrow of the two kingdoms, such is Hengstenberg’s explanation,
shall take place—not in the immediately succeeding years, before the
child specified shall have acquired the use of his reason, but—within
such a space of time, as in the far future will elapse between the
birth of the Messiah and the first development of his mental powers;
therefore in about three years. What a monstrous confounding of times!
A child is to be born in the distant future, and that which shall
happen before this child shall know how to use his reason, is to take
place in the nearest present time.

Thus Paulus and his party are decidedly right in opposing to
Hengstenberg and his party, that the prophecy of Isaiah has relation,
in its original local signification, to the then existing
circumstances, and not to the future Messiah, still less to Jesus.
Hengstenberg, on the other hand, is equally in the right, when in
opposition to Paulus he maintains, that the passage from Isaiah is
adopted by Matthew as a prophecy of the birth of Jesus of a virgin.
Whilst the orthodox commentators explain the often recurring that it
might be fulfilled (ἵνα πληρωθη), and similar expressions as
signifying: this happened by divine arrangement, in order that the Old
Testament prophecy, which in its very origin had reference to the New
Testament occurrence, might be fulfilled;—the rationalistic
interpreters, on the contrary, understand merely: this took place after
such a manner, that it was so constituted, that the Old Testament
words, which, originally indeed, had relation to something different,
should admit of being so applied; and in such application alone do they
receive their full verification. In the first explanation, the relation
between the Old Testament passage and the New Testament occurrence is
objective, arranged by God himself: in the last it is only subjective,
a relation perceived by the later author; according to the former it is
a relationship at once precise and essential: according to the latter
both inexact and adventitious. But opposed to this latter
interpretation of New Testament passages, which point out an Old
Testament prophecy as fulfilled, is the language, and equally so the
spirit of the New Testament writers. The language: for neither can
πληροῦσθαι signify in such connexion anything than ratum fieri, eventu
comprobari, nor ἵνα ὅπως anything than eo consilio ut, whilst the
extensive adoption of ἵνα ἐκβατικὸν has arisen only from dogmatic
perplexity. [218] But such an interpretation is altogether at variance
with the Judaical spirit of the authors of the Gospels. Paulus
maintains that the Orientalist does not seriously believe that the
ancient prophecy was designedly spoken, or was accomplished by God,
precisely in order that it should prefigure a modern event, and vice
versa; but this is to carry over our sober European modes of thought
into the imaginative life of the Orientals. When however Paulus adds:
much rather did the coincidence of a later event with an earlier
prophecy assume only the form of a designed coincidence in the mind of
the Oriental: he thus, at once, annuls his previous assertion; for this
is to admit, that, what in our view is mere coincidence, appeared to
the oriental mind the result of design; and we must acknowledge this to
be the meaning of an oriental representation, if we would interpret it
according to its original signification. It is well known that the
later Jews found prophecies, of the time being and of the future,
everywhere in the Old Testament; and that they constructed a complete
image of the future Messiah, out of various, and in part falsely
interpreted Old Testament passages. [219] And the Jew believed he saw
in the application he gave to the Scripture, however perverted it might
be, an actual fulfilment of the prophecy. In the words of Olshausen: it
is a mere dogmatic prejudice to attribute to this formula, when used by
the New Testament writers, an altogether different sense from that
which it habitually bears among their countrymen; and this solely with
the view to acquit them of the sin of falsely interpreting the
Scripture.

Many theologians of the present day are sufficiently impartial to
admit, with regard to the Old Testament, in opposition to the ancient
orthodox interpretation, that many of the prophecies originally
referred to near events; but they are not sufficiently rash, with
regard to the New Testament, to side with the rationalistic
commentators, and to deny the decidedly Messianic application which the
New Testament writers make of these prophecies; they are still too
prejudiced to allow, that here and there the New Testament has falsely
interpreted the Old. Consequently, they have recourse to the expedient
of distinguishing a double sense in the prophecy; the one relating to a
near and minor occurrence, the other to a future and more important
event; and thus they neither offend against the plain grammatical and
historical sense of the Old Testament passage on the one hand, nor
distort or deny the signification of the New Testament passage on the
other. [220] Thus, in the prophecy of Isaiah under consideration, the
spirit of prophecy, they contend, had a double intention: to announce a
near occurrence, the delivery of the affianced bride of the prophet,
and also a distinct event in the far distant future, namely the birth
of the Messiah of a virgin. But a double sense so monstrous owes its
origin to dogmatic perplexity alone. It has been adopted, as Olshausen
himself remarks, in order to avoid the offensive admission that the New
Testament writers, and Jesus himself, did not interpret the Old
Testament rightly, or, more properly speaking, according to modern
principles of exegesis, but explained it after the manner of their own
age, which was not the most correct. But so little does this offence
exist for the unprejudiced, that the reverse would be the greater
difficulty, that is, if, contrary to all the laws of historical and
national development, the New Testament writers had elevated themselves
completely above the modes of interpretation common to their age and
nation. Consequently, with regard to the prophecies brought forward in
the New Testament, we may admit, according to circumstances, without
further argument, that they are frequently interpreted and applied by
the evangelists, in a sense which is totally different from that they
originally bore.

We have here in fact a complete table of all the four possible views on
this point: two extreme and two conciliatory; one false and one, it is
to be hoped, correct.

1. Orthodox view (Hengstenberg and others): Such Old Testament passages
had in their very origin an exclusive prophetic reference to Christ,
for the New Testament writers so understand them; and they must be in
the right even should human reason be confounded.

2. Rationalistic view (Paulus and others): The New Testament writers do
not assign a strictly Messianic sense to the Old Testament prophecies,
for this reference to Christ is foreign to the original signification
of these prophecies viewed by the light of reason; and the New
Testament writings must accord with reason, whatever ancient beliefs
may say to the contrary.

3. Mystical conciliatory view (Olshausen and others): The Old Testament
passages originally embody both the deeper signification ascribed to
them by the New Testament writers, and that more proximate meaning
which common sense obliges us to recognize: thus sound reason and the
ancient faith are reconcilable.

4. Decision of criticism: Very many of the Old Testament prophecies
had, originally, only an immediate reference to events belonging to the
time: but they came to be regarded by the men of the New Testament as
actual predictions of Jesus as the Messiah, because the intelligence of
these men was limited by the manner of thinking of their nation, a fact
recognized neither by Rationalism nor the ancient faith. [221]

Accordingly we shall not hesitate for a moment to allow, in relation to
the prophecy in question, that the reference to Jesus is obtruded upon
it by the Evangelists. Whether the actual birth of Jesus of a virgin
gave rise to this application of the prophecy, or whether this
prophecy, interpreted beforehand as referring to the Messiah,
originated the belief that Jesus was born of a virgin, remains to be
determined.

§ 26.

JESUS BEGOTTEN OF THE HOLY GHOST. CRITICISM OF THE ORTHODOX OPINION.

The statement of Matthew and of Luke concerning the mode of Jesus’s
conception has, in every age, received the following interpretation by
the church; that Jesus was conceived in Mary not by a human father, but
by the Holy Ghost. And truly the gospel expressions seem, at first
sight, to justify this interpretation; since the words πρὶν ἢ συνελθεῖν
αὐτοὺς (Matt. i. 18) and ἐπεὶ ἄνδρα οὐ γινώσκω (Luke i. 34) preclude
the participation of Joseph or any other man in the conception of the
child in question. Nevertheless the terms πνεῦμα ἅγιον and δύναμις
ὑψίστου do not represent the Holy Ghost in the sense of the church, as
the third person in the Godhead, but rather the ‏רוּחַ אֱלֹהִים‎, Spiritus
Dei as used in the Old Testament: God in his agency upon the world, and
especially upon man. In short the words ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος
ἁγίου in Matthew, and πνεῦμα ἅγιον ἐπελεύσεται ἐπὶ σὲ κ.τ.λ. in Luke,
express with sufficient clearness that the absence of human agency was
supplied—not physically after the manner of heathen representations—but
by the divine creative energy.

Though this seems to be the representation intended by the evangelists
in the passages referred to concerning the origin of the life of Jesus,
still it cannot be completed without considerable difficulties. We may
separate what we may term the physico-theological from the
historical-exegetical difficulties.

The physiological difficulties amount to this, that such a conception
would be a most remarkable deviation from all natural laws. However
obscure the physiology of the fact, it is proved by an exceptionless
experience that only by the concurrence of the two sexes is a new human
being generated; on which account Plutarch’s remark, “παιδίον οὐδεμία
ποτὲ γυνὴ λέγεται ποιῆσαι δίχα κοινωνίας ἀνδρὸς,” [222] and Cerinthus’s
“impossible” become applicable. [223] It is only among the lowest
species of the animal kingdom that generation takes place without the
union of sexes; [224] so that, regarding the matter purely
physiologically, what Origen says, in the supranaturalistic sense,
would indeed be true of a man of the like origin; namely, that the
words in Psalm xxii. 7, I am a worm and no man is a prophecy of Jesus
in the above respect. [225] But to the merely physical consideration a
theological one is subjoined by the angel (Luke i. 37), when he appeals
to the divine omnipotence to which nothing is impossible. But since the
divine omnipotence, by virtue of its unity with divine wisdom, is never
exerted in the absence of an adequate motive, the existence of such, in
the present instance, must be demonstrated. But nothing less than an
object worthy of the Deity, and at the same time necessarily
unattainable except by a deviation from the ordinary course of nature,
could constitute a sufficient cause for the suspension by God of a
natural law which he had established. Only here, it is said, the end,
the redemption of mankind, required impeccability on the part of Jesus;
and in order to render him exempt from sin, a divinely wrought
conception, which excluded the participation of a sinful father, and
severed Jesus from all connexion with original sin, was necessary.
[226] To which it has been answered by others, [227] (and
Schleiermacher has recently most decisively argued this side of the
question, [228]) that the exclusion of the paternal participation is
insufficient, unless, indeed, the inheritance of original sin, on the
maternal side, be obviated by the adoption of the Valentinian
assertion, that Jesus only passed through the body of Mary. But that
the gospel histories represent an actual maternal participation is
undeniable; consequently a divine intervention which should sanctify
the participation of the sinful human mother in the conception of Jesus
must be supposed in order to maintain his assumed necessary
impeccability. But if God determined on such a purification of the
maternal participation, it had been easier to do the same with respect
to that of the father, than by his total exclusion, to violate the
natural law in so unprecedented a manner; and consequently, a
fatherless conception cannot be insisted upon as the necessary means of
compassing the impeccability of Jesus.

Even he who thinks to escape the difficulties already specified, by
enveloping himself in a supranaturalism, inaccessible to arguments
based on reason or the laws of nature, must nevertheless admit the
force of the exegetical-historical difficulties meeting him upon his
own ground, which likewise beset the view of the supernatural
conception of Jesus. Nowhere in the New Testament is such an origin
ascribed to Jesus, or even distinctly alluded to, except in these two
accounts of his infancy in Matthew and in Luke. [229] The history of
the conception is omitted not only by Mark, but also by John, the
supposed author of the fourth Gospel and an alleged inmate with the
mother of Jesus subsequent to his death, who therefore would have been
the most accurately informed concerning these occurrences. It is said
that John sought rather to record the heavenly than the earthly origin
of Jesus; but the question arises, whether the doctrine which he sets
forth in his prologue, of a divine hypostasis actually becoming flesh
and remaining immanent in Jesus, is reconcilable with the view given in
the passages before us, of a simple divine operation determining the
conception of Jesus; whether therefore John could have presupposed the
history of the conception contained in Matthew and Luke? This
objection, however, loses its conclusive force if in the progress of
our investigation the apostolic origin of the fourth Gospel is not
established. The most important consideration therefore is, that no
retrospective allusion to this mode of conception occurs throughout the
four Gospels; not only neither in John nor in Mark, but also neither in
Matthew nor in Luke. Not only does Mary herself designate Joseph simply
as the father of Jesus (Luke ii. 48), and the Evangelist speak of both
as his parents, γονεῖς (Luke ii. 41),—an appellation which could only
have been used in an ulterior sense by one who had just related the
miraculous conception,—but all his contemporaries in general, according
to our Evangelists, regarded him as a son of Joseph, a fact which was
not unfrequently alluded to contemptuously and by way of reproach in
his presence (Matt. xiii. 55; Luke iv. 22; John vi. 42), thus affording
him an opportunity of making a decisive appeal to his miraculous
conception, of which, however, he says not a single word. Should it be
answered, that he did not desire to convince respecting the divinity of
his person by this external evidence, and that he could have no hope of
making an impression by such means on those who were in heart his
opponents,—it must also be remembered, that, according to the testimony
of the fourth Gospel, his own disciples, though they admitted him to be
the son of God, still regarded him as the actual son of Joseph. Philip
introduces Jesus to Nathanael as the son of Joseph, Ἰησοῦν τὸν υἱὸν
Ἰωσὴφ (John i. 46), manifestly in the same sense of real paternity
which the Jews attached to the designation; and nowhere is this
represented as an erroneous or imperfect notion which these Apostles
had subsequently to relinquish; much rather does the whole sense of the
narrative, which is not to be mistaken, exhibit the Apostles as having
a right belief on this point. The enigmatical presupposition, with
which, at the marriage in Cana, Mary addressed herself to Jesus, [230]
is far too vague to prove a recollection of his miraculous conception
on the part of the mother; at all events this feature is
counterbalanced by the opposing one that the family of Jesus, and, as
appears from Matt. xii. 46 ff. compared with Mark iii. 21 ff., his
mother also were, at a later time, in error respecting his aims; which
is scarcely explicable, even of his brothers, supposing them to have
had such recollections.

Just as little as in the Gospels, is anything in confirmation of the
view of the supernatural conception of Jesus, to be found in the
remaining New Testament writings. For when the Apostle Paul speaks of
Jesus as made of a woman, γενόμενον ἐκ γυναικὸς (Gal. iv. 4), this
expression is not to be understood as an exclusion of paternal
participation; since the addition made under the law, γενόμενον ὑπὸ
νόμον, clearly shows that he would here indicate (in the form which is
frequent in the Old and New Testament, for example Job xiv. 1; Matt.
xi. 11) human nature with all its conditions. When Paul (Rom. i. 3, 4
compared with ix. 5) makes Christ according to the flesh, κατὰ σάρκα,
descend from David, but declares him to be the son of God according to
the Spirit of Holiness, κατὰ πνεῦμα ἁγιωσύνης; no one will here
identify the antithesis flesh and spirit with the maternal human
participation, and the divine energy superseding the paternal
participation in the conception of Jesus. Finally when in the Epistle
to the Hebrews (vii. 3) Melchisedec is compared with the son of God,
υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, because without father, ἀπάτωρ, the application of the
literally interpreted ἀπάτωρ to Jesus, as he appeared upon earth, is
forbidden by the addition without mother, ἀμήτωρ, which agrees as
little with him as the immediately following without descent,
ἀγενεαλόγητος.

§ 27.

RETROSPECT OF THE GENEALOGIES.

The most conclusive exegetical ground of decision against the
supernatural conception of Jesus, which bears more closely on the point
than all the hitherto adduced passages, is found in the two genealogies
previously considered. Even the Manichæan Faustus asserted that it is
impossible without contradiction to trace the descent of Jesus from
David through Joseph, as is done by our two genealogists, and yet
assume that Joseph was not the father of Jesus; and Augustine had
nothing convincing to answer when he remarked that it was necessary, on
account of the superior dignity of the masculine gender, to carry the
genealogy of Jesus through Joseph, who was Mary’s husband if not by a
natural by a spiritual alliance. [231] In modern times also the
construction of the genealogical tables in Matthew and in Luke has led
many theologians to observe, that these authors considered Jesus as the
actual son of Joseph. [232] The very design of these tables is to prove
Jesus to be of the lineage of David through Joseph; but what do they
prove, if indeed Joseph was not the father of Jesus? The assertion that
Jesus was the son of David, ὑὸς Δαβὶδ, which in Matthew (i. 1) prefaces
the genealogy and announces its object, is altogether annulled by the
subsequent denial of his conception by means of the Davidical Joseph.
It is impossible, therefore, to think it probable that the genealogy
and the history of the birth of Jesus emanate from the same author
[233]; and we must concur with the theologians previously cited, that
the genealogies are taken from a different source. Scarcely could it
satisfy to oppose the remark, that as Joseph doubtlessly adopted Jesus,
the genealogical table of the former became fully valid for the latter.
For adoption might indeed suffice to secure to the adopted son the
reversion of certain external family rights and inheritances; but such
a relationship could in no wise lend a claim to the Messianic dignity,
which was attached to the true blood and lineage of David. He,
therefore, who had regarded Joseph as nothing more than the adopted
father of Jesus, would hardly have given himself the trouble to seek
out the Davidical descent of Joseph; but if indeed, besides the
established belief that Jesus was the son of God, it still remained
important to represent him as the son of David, the pedigree of Mary
would have been preferred for this purpose; for, however contrary to
custom, the maternal genealogy must have been admitted in a case where
a human father did not exist. Least of all is it to be believed, that
several authors would have engaged in the compilation of a genealogical
table for Jesus which traced his descent through Joseph, so that two
different genealogies of this kind are still preserved to us, if a
closer relationship between Jesus and Joseph had not been admitted at
the time of their composition.

Consequently, the decision of the learned theologians who agree that
these genealogies were composed in the belief that Jesus was the actual
son of Joseph and Mary, can hardly be disputed; but the authors or
compilers of our Gospels, notwithstanding their own conviction of the
divine origin of Jesus, received them among their materials; only that
Matthew (i. 16) changed the original Joseph begat Jesus of Mary—Ἰωσὴφ
δὲ ἐγέννησε τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἐκ της Μαρίας (comp. verses 3. 5. 6) according
to his own view; and so likewise Luke (iii. 23) instead of commencing
his genealogy simply with, Jesus—the son of Joseph—Ἰησοῦς υἱὸς Ἰωσὴφ,
inserts being as was supposed, ὢν, ὡς ἐνομίζετο κ.τ.λ.

Let it not be objected that the view for which we contend, namely, that
the genealogies could not have been composed under the notion that
Joseph was not the father of Jesus, leaves no conceivable motive for
incorporating them into our present Gospels. The original construction
of a genealogy of Jesus, even though in the case before us it consisted
simply in the adapting of foreign already existing genealogical tables
to Jesus, required a powerful and direct inducement; this was the hope
thereby to gain—the corporeal descent of Jesus from Joseph being
presupposed—a main support to the belief in his Messiahship; whilst, on
the other hand, a less powerful inducement was sufficient to incite to
the admission of the previously constructed genealogies: the
expectation that, notwithstanding the non-existence of any real
relationship between Joseph and Jesus, they might nevertheless serve to
link Jesus to David. Thus we find, that in the histories of the birth
both in Matthew and in Luke, though they each decidedly exclude Joseph
from the conception, great stress is laid upon the Davidical descent of
Joseph (Matt. i. 20, Luke i. 27, ii. 4); that which in fact had no real
significance, except in connexion with the earlier opinion, is retained
even after the point of view is changed.

Since, in this way, we discover both the genealogies to be memorials
belonging to the time and circle of the primitive church, in which
Jesus was still regarded as a naturally begotten man, the sect of the
Ebionites cannot fail to occur to us; as we are told concerning them,
that they held this view of the person of Christ at this early period.
[234] We should therefore have expected, more especially, to have found
these genealogies in the old Ebionitish Gospels, of which we have still
knowledge, and are not a little surprised to learn that precisely in
these Gospels the genealogies were wanting. It is true Epiphanius
states that the Gospel of the Ebionites commenced with the public
appearance of the Baptist [235]; accordingly, by the genealogies,
γενεαλογίαις, which they are said to have cut away, might have been
meant, those histories of the birth and infancy comprised in the two
first chapters of Matthew; which they could not have adopted in their
present form, since they contained the fatherless conception of Jesus,
which was denied by the Ebionites: and it might also have been
conjectured that this section which was in opposition to their system
had alone perhaps been wanting in their Gospel; and that the genealogy
which was in harmony with their view might nevertheless have been
somewhere inserted. But this supposition vanishes as soon as we find
that Epiphanius, in reference to the Nazarenes, defines the
genealogies, (of which he is ignorant whether they possessed them or
not,) as reaching from Abraham to Christ, τὰς ἀπὸ τοῦ Ἀβραὰμ ἕως
Χριστοῦ [236]; consequently, by the genealogies which were wanting to
some heretics, he evidently understood the genealogical tables, though,
in relation to the Ebionites, he might likewise have included under
this expression the history of the birth.

How is the strange phenomenon, that these genealogies are not found
among that very sect of Christians who retained the particular opinion
upon which they were constructed, to be explained? A modern
investigator has advanced the supposition, that the Jewish-christians
omitted the genealogical tables from prudential motives, in order not
to facilitate or augment the persecution which, under Domitian, and
perhaps even earlier, threatened the family of David. [237] But
explanations, having no inherent connexion with the subject, derived
from circumstances in themselves of doubtful historical validity, are
admissible only as a last refuge, when no possible solution of the
questionable phenomenon is to be found in the thing itself, as here in
the principles of the Ebionitish system.

But in this case the matter is by no means so difficult. It is known
that the Fathers speak of two classes of Ebionites, of which the one,
besides strenuously maintaining the obligation of the Mosaic law, held
Jesus to be the naturally begotten Son of Joseph and Mary; the other,
from that time called also Nazarenes, admitted with the orthodox church
the conception by the Holy Ghost. [238] But besides this distinction
there existed yet another. The most ancient ecclesiastic writers,
Justin Martyr and Irenæus for example, are acquainted with those
Ebionites only, who regarded Jesus as a naturally born man first
endowed with divine powers at his baptism. [239] In Epiphanius and the
Clementine Homilies, on the other hand, we meet with Ebionites who had
imbibed an element of speculative Gnosticism. This tendency, which
according to Epiphanius is to be dated from one Elxai, has been
ascribed to Essenic influence, [240] and traces of the same have been
discovered in the heresies referred to in the Epistle to the
Colossians; whereas the first class of Ebionites evidently proceeded
from common Judaism. Which form of opinion was the earlier and which
the later developed is not so easily determined; with reference to the
last detailed difference, it might seem, since the speculative
Ebionites are mentioned first by the Clementines and Epiphanius, whilst
Ebionites holding a simpler view are spoken of by Justin and by
Irenæus, that the latter were the earlier; nevertheless as Tertullian
already notices in his time the Gnosticising tendency of the opinions
of the Ebionites respecting Christ [241], and as the germ of such views
existed among the Essenes in the time of Jesus, the more probable
assumption is, that both opinions arose side by side about the same
period. [242] As little can it be proved with regard to the other
difference, that the views concerning Christ held by the Nazarenes
became first, at a later period, lowered to those of the Ebionites
[243]; since the notices, partly confused and partly of late date, of
the ecclesiastical writers, may be naturally explained as arising out
of what may be called an optical delusion of the church, which,—whilst
she in fact made continual advances in the glorification of Christ, but
a part of the Jewish Christians remained stationary,—made it appear to
her as if she herself remained stationary, whilst the others fell back
into heresy.

By thus distinguishing the simple and the speculative Ebionites, so
much is gained, that the failure of the genealogies among the latter
class, mentioned by Epiphanius, does not prove them to have been also
wanting among the former. And the less if we should be able to make it
appear probable, that the grounds of their aversion to the genealogical
table, and the grounds of distinction between them and the other class
of Ebionites, were identical. One of these grounds was evidently the
unfavourable opinion, which the Ebionites of Epiphanius and of the
Clementine Homilies had of David, from whom the genealogy traces the
descent of Jesus. It is well known that they distinguished in the Old
Testament a twofold prophecy, male and female, pure and impure, of
which the former only promised things heavenly and true, the latter
things earthly and delusive; that proceeding from Adam and Abel, this
from Eve and Cain; and both constituted an under current through the
whole history of the revelation. [244] It was only the pious men from
Adam to Joshua whom they acknowledged as true prophets: the later
prophets and men of God, among whom David and Solomon are named, were
not only not recognized, but abhorred. [245] We even find positive
indications that David was an object of their particular aversion.
There were many things which created in them a detestation of David
(and Solomon). David was a bloody warrior; but to shed blood was,
according to the doctrines of these Ebionites, one of the greatest of
sins; David was known to have committed adultery, (Solomon to have been
a voluptuary); and adultery was even more detested by this sect than
murder. David was a performer on stringed instruments; this art, the
invention of the Canaanites (Gen. iv. 21), was held by these Ebionites
to be a sign of false prophecy; finally, the prophecies announced by
David and those connected with him, (and Solomon,) had reference to the
kingdoms of this world, of which the Gnosticising Ebionites desired to
know nothing. [246] Now the Ebionites who had sprung from common
Judaism could not have shared this ground of aversion to the
genealogies; since to the orthodox Jew David was an object of the
highest veneration.

Concerning a second point the notices are not so lucid and accordant as
they should be; namely, whether it was a further development of the
general Ebionitish doctrine concerning the person of the Christ, which
led these Ebionites to reject the genealogies. According to Epiphanius,
they fully recognized the Gnostic distinction between Jesus the son of
Joseph and Mary, and the Christ who descended upon him [247]; and
consequently might have been withheld from referring the genealogy to
Jesus only perhaps by their abhorrence of David. On the other hand,
from the whole tenor of the Clementines, and from one passage in
particular, [248] it has recently been inferred, and not without
apparent reason, that the author of these writings had himself
abandoned the view of a natural conception, and even birth of Jesus
[249]; whereby it is yet more manifest that the ground of the rejection
of the genealogies by this sect was peculiar to it, and not common to
the other Ebionites.

Moreover positive indications, that the Ebionites who proceeded from
Judaism possessed the genealogies, do not entirely fail. Whilst the
Ebionites of Epiphanius and of the Clementines called Jesus only Son of
God, but rejected the appellation Son of David, as belonging to the
common opinion of the Jews [250]; other Ebionites were censured by the
Fathers for recognizing Jesus only as the Son of David, to whom he is
traced in the genealogies, and not likewise as the Son of God. [251]
Further, Epiphanius relates of the earliest Judaising Gnostics,
Cerinthus and Carpocrates, that they used a Gospel the same in other
respects indeed as the Ebionites, but that they adduced the
genealogies, which they therefore read in the same, in attestation of
the human conception of Jesus by Joseph. [252] Also the ἀπομνημονεύματα
cited by Justin, and which originated upon Judæo-christian ground,
appear to have contained a genealogy similar to that in our Matthew;
since Justin as well as Matthew speaks, in relation to Jesus, of a
γένος τοῦ Δαβὶδ καὶ Ἀβραὰμ, of a σπέρμα ἐξ Ἰακὼβ, διὰ Ἰούδα, καὶ Φαρὲς
καὶ Ἰεσσαὶ καὶ Δαβὶδ κατερχόμενον [253]; only that at the time, and in
the circle of Justin, the opinion of a supernatural conception of Jesus
had already suggested the reference of the genealogy to Mary, instead
of to Joseph.

Hence it appears that we have in the genealogies a memorial, agreeing
with indications from other sources, of the fact that in the very
earliest Christian age, in Palestine, a body of Christians, numerous
enough to establish upon distinct fundamental opinions two different
Messianic tables of descent, considered Jesus to have been a naturally
conceived human being. And no proof is furnished to us in the apostolic
writings, that the Apostles would have declared this doctrine to be
unchristian; it appeared so first from the point of view adopted by the
authors of the histories of the birth in the first and third Gospels:
notwithstanding which, however, it is treated with surprising lenity by
the Fathers of the church.

§ 28.

NATURAL EXPLANATION OF THE HISTORY OF THE CONCEPTION.

If, as appears from the foregoing statements, so many weighty
difficulties, philosophical as well as exegetical, beset the
supranaturalistic explanation, it is well worth while to examine
whether it be not possible to give an interpretation of the gospel
history which shall obviate these objections. Recourse has been had to
the natural explanation, and the two narratives singly and conjointly
have been successively subjected to the rationalistic mode of
interpretation.

In the first place, the account in Matthew seemed susceptible of such
an interpretation. Numerous rabbinical passages were cited to
demonstrate, that it was consonant with Jewish notions to consider a
son of pious parents to be conceived by the divine co-operation, and
that he should be called the son of the Holy Spirit, without its being
ever imagined that paternal participation was thereby excluded. It was
consequently contended, that the section in Matthew represented merely
the intention of the angel to inform Joseph, not indeed that Mary had
become pregnant in the absence of all human intercourse, but that
notwithstanding her pregnancy she was to be regarded as pure, not as
one fallen from virtue. It was maintained that the exclusion of
paternal participation—which is an embellishment of the original
representation—occurs first in Luke in the words ἄνδρα οὐ γινώσκω (i.
34). [254] When however this view was justly opposed by the remark,
that the expression πρὶν ἢ συνελθεῖν αὐτοὺς in Matthew (i. 18)
decidedly excludes the participation of the only individual in
question, namely Joseph; it was then thought possible to prove that
even in Luke the paternal exclusion was not so positive: but truly this
could be done only by an unexegetical subversion of the clear sense of
the words, or else by uncritically throwing suspicion on a part of a
well-connected narrative. The first expedient is to interpret Mary’s
inquiry of the angel i. 34, thus: Can I who am already betrothed and
married give birth to the Messiah, for as the mother of the Messiah I
must have no husband? whereupon the angel replies, that God, through
his power, could make something distinguished even of the child
conceived of her and Joseph. [255] The other proceeding is no less
arbitrary. Mary’s inquiry of the angel is explained as an unnatural
interruption of his communication, which being abstracted, the passage
is found to contain no decided intimation of the supernatural
conception. [256]

If consequently, the difficulty of the natural explanation of the two
accounts be equally great, still, with respect to both it must be alike
attempted or rejected; and for the consistent Rationalist, a Paulus for
example, the latter is the only course. This commentator considers the
participation of Joseph, indeed excluded by Matt. i. 18, but by no
means that of every other man; neither can he find a supernatural
divine intervention in the expression of Luke i. 35. The Holy
Ghost—πνεῦμα ἅγιον—is not with him objective, an external influence
operating upon Mary, but her own pious imagination. The power of the
Highest—δύναμις ὑψίστου—is not the immediate divine omnipotence, but
every natural power employed in a manner pleasing to God may be so
called. Consequently, according to Paulus, the meaning of the angelic
announcement is simply this: prior to her union with Joseph, Mary,
under the influence of a pure enthusiasm in sacred things on the one
hand, and by an human co-operation pleasing to God on the other, became
the mother of a child who on account of this holy origin was to be
called a son of God.

Let us examine rather more accurately the view which this
representative of rationalistic interpretation takes of the particulars
of the conception of Jesus. He begins with Elizabeth, the patriotic and
wise daughter of Aaron, as he styles her. She, having conceived the
hope that she might give birth to one of God’s prophets, naturally
desired moreover that he might be the first of prophets, the forerunner
of the Messiah; and that the latter also might speedily be born. Now
there was among her own kinsfolk a person suited in every respect for
the mother of the Messiah, Mary, a young virgin, a descendant of David;
nothing more was needful than to inspire her likewise with such a
special hope. Whilst these intimations prepare us to anticipate a
cleverly concerted plan on the part of Elizabeth in reference to her
young relative, in the which we hope to become initiated; Paulus here
suddenly lets fall the curtain, and remarks, that the exact manner in
which Mary was convinced that she should become the mother of the
Messiah must be left historically undetermined; thus much only is
certain, that Mary remained pure, for she could not with a clear
conscience have stationed herself, as she afterwards did, under the
Cross of her Son, had she felt that a reproach rested on her concerning
the origin of the hopes she had entertained of him. The following is
the only hint subsequently given of the particular view held by Paulus.
It is probable, he thinks, that the angelic messenger visited Mary in
the evening or even at night; indeed according to the correct reading
of Luke i. 28, which has not the word angel, καὶ εἰσελθὼν πρὸς αὐτὴν
εἰπε, without ὁ ἄγγελος, the evangelist here speaks only of some one
who had come in. (As if in this case, the participle εἰσελθὼν must not
necessarily be accompanied by τὶς; or, in the absence of the pronoun be
referred to the subject, the angel Gabriel—ὁ ἄγγελος Γαβριὴλ, v. 26!)
Paulus adds: that this visitant was the angel Gabriel was the
subsequent suggestion of Mary’s own mind, after she had heard of the
vision of Zacharias.

Gabler, in a review of Paulus’s Commentary [257] has fully exposed,
with commensurate plainness of speech, the transaction which lies
concealed under this explanation. It is impossible, says he, to imagine
any other interpretation of Paulus’s view than that some one passed
himself off for the angel Gabriel, and as the pretended Messenger of
God remained with Mary in order that she might become the mother of the
Messiah. What! asks Gabler, is Mary, at the very time she is betrothed,
to become pregnant by another, and is this to be called an innocent
holy action, pleasing to God and irreproachable? Mary is here
pourtrayed as a pious visionary, and the pretended messenger of heaven
as a deceiver, or he too is a gross fanatic. The reviewer most justly
considers such an assertion as revolting, if contemplated from the
christian point of view; if from the scientific, as at variance both
with the principles of interpretation and of criticism.

The author of the Natural History of the Great Prophet of Nazareth is,
in this instance, to be considered as the most worthy interpreter of
Paulus; for though the former could not, in this part of his work, have
made use of Paulus’s Commentary, yet, in exactly the same spirit, he
unreservedly avows what the latter carefully veils. He brings into
comparison a story in Josephus, [258] according to which, in the very
time of Jesus, a Roman knight won the chaste wife of a Roman noble to
his wishes, by causing her to be invited by a priest of Isis into the
temple of the goddess, under the pretext that the god Anubis desired to
embrace her. In innocence and faith, the woman resigned herself, and
would perhaps afterwards have believed she had given birth to the child
of a god, had not the intriguer, with bitter scorn, soon after
discovered to her the true state of the case. It is the opinion of the
author that Mary, the betrothed bride of the aged Joseph, was in like
manner deceived by some amorous and fanatic young man (in the sequel to
the history he represents him to be Joseph of Arimathea), and that she
on her part, in perfect innocence, continued to deceive others. [259]
It is evident that this interpretation does not differ from the ancient
Jewish blasphemy, which we find in Celsus and in the Talmud; that Jesus
falsely represented himself as born of a pure virgin, whereas, in fact,
he was the offspring of the adultery of Mary with a certain Panthera.
[260]

This whole view, of which the culminating point is in the calumny of
the Jews, cannot be better judged than in the words of Origen. If, says
this author, they wished to substitute something else in the place of
the history of the supernatural conception of Jesus, they should at any
rate have made it happen in a more probable manner; they ought not, as
it were against their will, to admit that Mary knew not Joseph, but
they might have denied this feature, and yet have allowed Jesus to have
been born of an ordinary human marriage; whereas the forced and
extravagant character of their hypothesis betrays its falsehood. [261]
Is not this as much as to say, that if once some particular features of
a marvellous narrative are doubted, it is inconsequent to allow others
to remain unquestioned? each part of such an account ought to be
subjected to critical examination. The correct view of the narrative
before us is to be found, that is indirectly, in Origen. For when at
one time he places together, as of the same kind, the miraculous
conception of Jesus and the story of Plato’s conception by Apollo
(though here, indeed, the meaning is that only ill-disposed persons
could doubt such things [262]), and when at another time he says of the
story concerning Plato, that it belongs to those mythi by which it was
sought to exhibit the distinguished wisdom and power of great men (but
here he does not include the narrative of Jesus’s conception), he in
fact states the two premises, namely, the similarity of the two
narratives and the mythical character of the one [263]; from which the
inference of the merely mythical worth of the narrative of the
conception of Jesus follows; a conclusion which can never indeed have
occurred to his own mind.

§ 29.

HISTORY OF THE CONCEPTION OF JESUS VIEWED AS A MYTHUS.

If, says Gabler in his review of the Commentary of Paulus, we must
relinquish the supernatural origin of Jesus, in order to escape the
ridicule of our contemporaries, and if, on the other hand, the natural
explanation leads to conclusions not only extravagant, but revolting;
the adoption of the mythus, by which all these difficulties are
obviated, is to be preferred. In the world of mythology many great men
had extraordinary births, and were sons of the gods. Jesus himself
spoke of his heavenly origin, and called God his father; besides, his
title as Messiah was—Son of God. From Matthew i. 22, it is further
evident that the passage of Isaiah, vii. 14, was referred to Jesus by
the early Christian Church. In conformity with this passage the belief
prevailed that Jesus, as the Messiah, should be born of a virgin by
means of divine agency; it was therefore taken for granted that what
was to be actually did occur; and thus originated a philosophical
(dogmatical) mythus concerning the birth of Jesus. But according to
historical truth, Jesus was the offspring of an ordinary marriage,
between Joseph and Mary; an explanation which, it has been justly
remarked, maintains at once the dignity of Jesus and the respect due to
his mother. [264]

The proneness of the ancient world to represent the great men and
benefactors of their race as the sons of the gods, has therefore been
referred to, in order to explain the origin of such a mythus. Our
theologians have accumulated examples from the Greco-Roman mythology
and history. They have cited Hercules, and the Dioscuri; Romulus, and
Alexander; but above all Pythagoras, [265] and Plato. Of the latter
philosopher Jerome speaks in a manner quite applicable to Jesus:
sapientiæ principem non aliter arbitrantur, nisi de partu virginis
editum. [266]

From these examples it might have been inferred that the narratives of
the supernatural conception had possibly originated in a similar
tendency, and had no foundation in history. Here however the orthodox
and the rationalists are unanimous in denying, though indeed upon
different grounds, the validity of the analogy. Origen, from a
perception of the identical character of the two classes of narratives,
is not far from regarding the heathen legends of the sons of the gods
as true supernatural histories. Paulus on his side is more decided, and
is so logical as to explain both classes of narratives in the same
manner, as natural, but still as true histories. At least he says of
the narrative concerning Plato: it cannot be affirmed that the
groundwork of the history was a subsequent creation; it is far more
probable that Perictione believed herself to be pregnant by one of her
gods. The fact that her son became a Plato might indeed have served to
confirm that belief, but not to have originated it. Tholuck invites
attention to the important distinction that the mythi concerning
Romulus and others were formed many centuries after the lifetime of
these men: the mythi concerning Jesus, on the contrary, must have
existed shortly after his death. [267] He cleverly fails to remember
the narrative of Plato’s birth, since he is well aware that precisely
in that particular, it is a dangerous point. Osiander however
approaches the subject with much pathos, and affirms that Plato’s
apotheosis as son of Apollo did not exist till several centuries after
him [268]; whereas in fact Plato’s sister’s son speaks of it as a
prevailing legend in Athens. [269] Olshausen, with whom Neander
coincides, refuses to draw any detrimental inference from this analogy
of the mythical sons of the gods; remarking that though these
narratives are unhistorical, they evince a general anticipation and
desire of such a fact, and therefore guarantee its reality, at least in
one historical manifestation. Certainly, a general anticipation and
representation must have truth for its basis; but the truth does not
consist in any one individual fact, presenting an accurate
correspondence with that notion, but in an idea which realizes itself
in a series of facts, which often bear no resemblance to the general
notion. The widely spread notion of a golden age does not prove the
existence of a golden age: so the notion of divine conceptions does not
prove that some one individual was thus produced. The truth which is
the basis of this notion is something quite different.

A more essential objection [270] to the analogy is, that the
representations of the heathen world prove nothing with respect to the
isolated Jews; and that the idea of sons of the gods, belonging to
polytheism, could not have exerted an influence on the rigidly
monotheistic notion of the Messiah. At all events such an inference
must not be too hastily drawn from the expression “sons of God,” found
likewise among the Jews, which as applied in the Old Testament to
magistrates, (Ps. lxxxii. 6, or to theocratic kings, 2 Sam. vii. 14,
Ps. ii. 7,) indicates only a theocratic, and not a physical or
metaphysical relation. Still less is importance to be attached to the
language of flattery used by a Roman, in Josephus, who calls beautiful
children of the Jewish princes children of God. [271] It was, however,
a notion among the Jews, as was remarked in a former section, that the
Holy Spirit co-operated in the conception of pious individuals;
moreover, that God’s choicest instruments were conceived by divine
assistance of parents, who could not have had a child according to the
natural course of things. And if, according to the believed
representation, the extinct capability on both sides was renewed by
divine intervention (Rom. iv. 19), it was only one step further to the
belief that in the case of the conception of the most distinguished of
all God’s agents, the Messiah, the total absence of participation on
the one side was compensated by a more complete superadded capability
on the other. The latter is scarcely a degree more marvellous than the
former. And thus must it have appeared to the author of Luke i., since
he dissipates Mary’s doubts by the same reply with which Jehovah
repelled Sara’s incredulity. [272] Neither the Jewish reverence for
marriage, nor the prevalent representation of the Messiah as a human
being, could prevent the advance to this climax; to which, on the other
hand, the ascetic estimation of celibacy, and the idea, derived from
Daniel, of the Christ as a superhuman being, contributed. But decided
impulse to the development of the representations embodied in our
histories of the birth, consisted partly in the title, Son of God, at
one time usually given to the Messiah. For it is the nature of such
originally figurative expressions, after a while to come to be
interpreted according to their more precise and literal signification;
and it was a daily occurrence, especially among the later Jews, to
attach a sensible signification to that which originally had merely a
spiritual or figurative meaning. This natural disposition to understand
the Messianic title Son of God more and more literally, was fostered by
the expression in the Psalms (ii. 7), interpreted of the Messiah: Thou
art my Son; this day have I begotten thee: words which can scarcely
fail to suggest a physical relation; it was also nurtured by the
prophecy of Isaiah respecting the virgin who should be with child,
which it appears was applied to the Messiah; as were so many other
prophecies of which the immediate signification had become obscure.
This application may be seen in the Greek word chosen by the
Septuagint, παρθένος, a pure unspotted virgin, whereas by Aquila and
other Greek translators the word νεᾶνις is used. [273] Thus did the
notions of a son of God and a son of a virgin complete one another,
till at last the divine agency was substituted for human paternal
participation. Wetstein indeed affirms that no Jew ever applied the
prophecy of Isaiah to the Messiah; and it was with extreme labour that
Schoettgen collected traces of the notion that the Messiah should be
the son of a virgin from the Rabbinical writings. This however,
considering the paucity of records of the Messianic ideas of that age,
[274] proves nothing in opposition to the presumption that a notion
then prevailed, of which we have the groundwork in the Old Testament,
and an inference hardly to be mistaken in the New.

One objection yet remains, which I can no longer designate as peculiar
to Olshausen, since other theologians have shown themselves solicitous
of sharing the fame. The objection is, that the mythical interpretation
of the gospel narrative is especially dangerous, it being only too well
fitted to engender, obscurely indeed, profane and blasphemous notions
concerning the origin of Jesus; since it cannot fail to favour an
opinion destructive of the belief in a Redeemer, namely, that Jesus
came into being through unholy means; since, in fact, at the time of
her pregnancy Mary was not married. [275] In Olshausen’s first edition
of his work, he adds that he willingly allows that these interpreters
know not what they do: it is therefore but just to give him the
advantage of the same concession, since he certainly appears not to
know what mythical interpretation means. How otherwise would he say,
that the mythical interpretation is fitted only to favour a blasphemous
opinion; therefore that all who understand the narrative mythically,
are disposed to commit the absurdity with which Origen reproaches the
Jewish calumniators; the retaining one solitary incident, namely, that
Mary was not married, whilst the remainder of the narrative is held to
be unhistorical; a particular incident which evidently serves only as a
support to the other, that Jesus was conceived without human paternal
participation, and with it, therefore, stands or falls. No one among
the interpreters who, in this narrative, recognise a mythus, in the
full signification of that term, has been thus blind and inconsequent;
all have supposed a legitimate marriage between Joseph and Mary; and
Olshausen merely paints the mythical mode of interpretation in
caricature, in order the more easily to set it aside; for he confesses
that in relation to this portion of the Gospel in particular, it has
much that is dazzling.

§ 30.

RELATION OF JOSEPH TO MARY—BROTHERS OF JESUS.

Our Gospels, in the true spirit of the ancient legend, find it
unbecoming to allow the mother of Jesus, so long as she bore the
heavenly germ, to be approached or profaned by an earthly husband.
Consequently Luke (ii. 5) represents the connexion between Joseph and
Mary, prior to the birth of Jesus, as a betrothment merely. And, as it
is stated respecting the father of Plato, after his wife had become
pregnant by Apollo: ὅθεν καθαρὰν γάμου φυλάξαι ἕως τῆς ἀποκυήσεως,
[276] so likewise it is remarked of Joseph in Matthew (i. 25): καὶ οὐκ
ἐγίνωσκεν αὐτὴν (τὴν γυναῖκα αὑτοῦ) ἕως οὖ ἔτεκε τὸν υἱὸν αὑτῆς τὸν
πρωτότοκον. In each of these kindred passages the Greek word ἕως (till)
must evidently receive the same interpretation. Now in the first
quotation the meaning is incontestably this:—that till the time of
Plato’s birth his father abstained from intercourse with his wife, but
subsequently assumed his conjugal rights, since we hear of Plato’s
brothers. In reference, therefore, to the parents of Jesus, the ἕως
cannot have a different signification; in each case it indicates
precisely the same limitation. So again the expression πρωτότοκος
(firstborn) used in reference to Jesus in both the Gospels (Matt. i.
25, Luke ii. 7) supposes that Mary had other children, for as Lucian
says: εἰ μὲν πρῶτος, οὐ μόνος· εἰ δὲ μόνος, οὐ πρῶτος. [277] Even in
the same Gospels (Matt. xiii. 55, Luke viii. 19) mention is made of
ἀδελφοῖς Ἰησοῦ (the brothers of Jesus). In the words of Fritzsche:
Lubentissime post Jesu natales Mariam concessit Matthæus (Luke does the
same) uxorem Josepho, in hoc uno occupatus, ne quis ante Jesu primordia
mutuâ venere usos suspicaretur. But this did not continue to satisfy
the orthodox; as the veneration for Mary rose even higher, she who had
once become fruitful by divine agency was not subsequently to be
profaned by the common relations of life. [278] The opinion that Mary
after the birth of Jesus became the wife of Joseph, was early ranked
among the heresies, [279] and the orthodox Fathers sought every means
to escape from it and to combat it. They contended that according to
the exegetical interpretation of ἕως οὗ, it sometimes affirmed or
denied a thing, not merely up to a certain limit, but beyond that
limitation and for ever; and that the words of Matthew οὐκ ἐγίνωσκεν
αὐτὴν ἕως οὗ ἔτεκε κ.τ.λ. excluded a matrimonial connexion between
Joseph and Mary for all time. [280] In like manner it was asserted of
the term πρωτότοκος, that it did not necessarily include the subsequent
birth of other children, but that it merely excluded any previous
birth. [281] But in order to banish the thought of a matrimonial
connexion between Mary and Joseph, not only grammatically but
physiologically, they represented Joseph as a very old man, under whom
Mary was placed for control and protection only; and the brothers of
Jesus mentioned in the New Testament they regarded as the children of
Joseph by a former marriage. [282] But this was not all; soon it was
insisted not only that Mary never became the wife of Joseph, but that
in giving birth to Jesus she did not lose her virginity. [283] But even
the conservation of Mary’s virginity did not long continue to satisfy:
perpetual virginity was likewise required on the part of Joseph. It was
not enough that he had no connexion with Mary; it was also necessary
that his entire life should be one of celibacy. Accordingly, though
Epiphanius allows that Joseph had sons by a former marriage, Jerome
rejects the supposition as an impious and audacious invention; and from
that time the brothers of Jesus were degraded to the rank of cousins.
[284]

Some modern theologians agree with the Fathers of the Church in
maintaining that no matrimonial connexion subsisted at any time between
Joseph and Mary, and believe themselves able to explain the gospel
expressions which appear to assert the contrary. In reference to the
term firstborn, Olshausen contends that it signifies an only son: no
less than the eldest of several. Paulus allows that here he is right,
and Clemen [285] and Fritzsche seek in vain to demonstrate the
impossibility of this signification. For when it is said in Ex. xiii.
2, ‏קַדֶּשׁ־לִי כָל־בְּכוֹל פֶּטֶר כָּל־רֶחֶם‎ (πρωτότοκον πρωτογενὲς LXX.) it was not
merely a firstborn followed by others subsequently born, who was
sanctified to Jehovah, but the fruit of the body of that mother of whom
no other child had previously been born. Therefore the term πρωτότοκος
must of necessity bear also this signification. Truly however we must
confess with Winer [286] and others, on the other side, that if a
narrator who was acquainted with the whole sequel of the history used
that expression, we should be tempted to understand it in its primitive
sense; since had the author intended to exclude other children, he
would rather have employed the word μονογενὴς, or would have connected
it with πρωτότοκος. If this be not quite decisive, the reasoning of
Fritzsche in reference to the ἕως οὗ, κ.τ.λ., is more convincing. He
rejects the citations adduced in support of the interpretation of the
Fathers of the Church, proving that this expression according to its
primitive signification affirms only to a given limit, and beyond that
limit supposes the logical opposite of the affirmation to take place; a
signification which it loses only when the context shows clearly that
the opposite is impossible in the nature of things. [287] For example,
when it is said οὐκ ἐγίνωσκεν αὐτὴν, ἕως οὗ ἀπέθανεν, it is
self-evident that the negation, during the time elapsed till
death—cannot be transformed after death into an affirmation; but when
it is said, as in Matthew, οὐκ ἐ. ἀ. ἕως οὗ ἔτεκεν, the giving birth to
the divine fruit opposes no impossibility to the establishment of the
conjugal relations; on the contrary it renders it possible, i.e.
suitable [288] for them now to take place.

Olshausen, impelled by the same doctrinal motives which influenced the
Fathers, is led in this instance to contradict both the evidence of
grammar and of logic. He thinks that Joseph, without wishing to impair
the sanctity of marriage, must have concluded after the experiences he
had had (?) that his marriage with Mary had another object than the
production of children; besides it was but natural (?) in the last
descendant of the house of David, and of that particular branch from
which the Messiah should come forth, to terminate her race in this last
and eternal offshoot.

A curious ladder may be formed of these different beliefs and
superstitions in relation to the connexion between Mary and Joseph.

1. Contemporaries of Jesus and composers of the genealogies: Joseph and
Mary man and wife—Jesus the offspring of their marriage.

2. The age and authors of our histories of the birth of Jesus: Mary and
Joseph betrothed only; Joseph having no participation in the conception
of the child, and previous to his birth no conjugal connexion with
Mary.

3. Olshausen and others: subsequent to the birth of Jesus, Joseph,
though then the husband of Mary, relinquishes his matrimonial rights.

4. Epiphanius, Protevangelium Jacobi and others: Joseph a decrepit old
man, no longer to be thought of as a husband: the children attributed
to him are of a former marriage. More especially it is not as a bride
and wife that he receives Mary; he takes her merely under his
guardianship.

5. Protevang., Chrysostom and others: Mary’s virginity was not only not
destroyed by any subsequent births of children by Joseph, it was not in
the slightest degree impaired by the birth of Jesus.

6. Jerome: not Mary only but Joseph also observed an absolute
virginity, and the pretended brothers of Jesus were not his sons but
merely cousins to Jesus.

The opinion that the ἀδελφοὶ (brothers) and ἀδελφαὶ Ἰησοῦ (sisters of
Jesus) mentioned in the New Testament, were merely half brothers or
indeed cousins, appears in its origin, as shown above, together with
the notion that no matrimonial connexion ever subsisted between Joseph
and Mary, as the mere invention of superstition, a circumstance highly
prejudicial to such an opinion. It is however no less true that purely
exegetical grounds exist, in virtue of which theologians who were free
from prejudice have decided, that the opinion that Jesus actually had
brothers is untenable. [289] Had we merely the following passages—Matt.
xiii. 55, Mark vi. 3, where the people of Nazareth, astonished at the
wisdom of their countryman, in order to mark his well known origin,
immediately after having spoken of τέκτων (the carpenter) his father,
and his mother Mary, mention by name his ἀδελφοὺς (brothers) James,
Joses, Simon, and Judas, together with his sisters whose names are not
given [290]; again Matt. xii. 46, Luke viii. 19, when his mother and
his brethren come to Jesus; John ii. 12, where Jesus journeys with his
mother and his brethren to Capernaum; Acts i. 14, where they are
mentioned in immediate connexion with his mother—if we had these
passages only, we could not for a moment hesitate to recognize here
real brothers of Jesus at least on the mother’s side, children of
Joseph and Mary; not only on account of the proper signification of the
word ἀδελφὸς, but also in consequence of its continual conjunction with
Mary and Joseph. Even the passages—John vii. 5, in which it is remarked
that his brethren did not believe on Jesus, and Mark iii. 21, compared
with 31, where, according to the most probable explanation, the
brothers of Jesus with his mother went out to lay hold of him as one
beside himself—furnish no adequate grounds for relinquishing the proper
signification of ἀδελφὸς. Many theologians have interpreted ἀδελφοὺς
Ἰησοῦ in the last cited passage half brothers, sons of Joseph by a
former marriage, alleging that the real brothers of Jesus must have
believed on him, but this is a mere assumption. The difficulty seems
greater when we read in John xix. 26 f. that Jesus, on the cross,
enjoined John to be a son to his mother; an injunction it is not easy
to regard as suitable under the supposition that Mary had other
children, except indeed these were half-brothers and unfriendly to
Jesus. Nevertheless we can imagine the existence both of external
circumstances and of individual feelings which might have influenced
Jesus to confide his mother to John rather than to his brothers. That
these brothers appeared in company with his apostles after the
ascension (Acts i. 14) is no proof that they must have believed on
Jesus at the time of his death.

The real perplexity in the matter, however, originates in this: that
besides the James and Joses spoken of as the brothers of Jesus, two men
of the same name are mentioned as the sons of another Mary (Mark xv.
40, 47, xvi. 1, Matt. xxvii. 56), without doubt that Mary who is
designated, John xix. 25, as the sister of the mother of Jesus, and the
wife of Cleophas; so that we have a James and a Joses not only among
the children of Mary the mother of Jesus, but again among her sister’s
children. We meet with several others among those immediately connected
with Jesus, whose names are identical. In the lists of the apostles
(Matt. x. 2 ff., Luke vi. 14 ff.) we have two more of the name of
James: that is four, the brother and cousin of Jesus included; two more
of the name of Judas: that is three, the brother of Jesus included; two
of the name of Simon, also making three with the brother of Jesus of
the same name. The question naturally arises, whether the same
individual is not here taken as distinct persons? The suspicion is
almost unavoidable in reference to James. As James the son of Alpheus
is, in the list of the apostles, introduced after the son of Zebedee,
as the second, perhaps the younger; and as James the cousin of Jesus is
called ὁ μικρὸς (“the less”) Mark xv. 40; and since by comparing John
xix. 25, we find that the latter is called the son of Cleophas, it is
possible that the name Κλωπᾶς (Cleophas) given to the husband of Mary’s
sister, and the name Ἀλφαῖος (Alpheus) given to the father of the
apostle, may be only different forms of the Hebrew ‏חלפי‎. Thus would
the second James enumerated among the apostles and the cousin of Jesus
of that name be identical, and there would remain besides him only the
son of Zebedee and the brother of Jesus. Now in the Acts (xv. 13) a
James appears who takes a prominent part in the so-called apostolic
council, and as, according to Acts xii. 2, the son of Zebedee had
previously been put to death, and as in the foregoing portion of the
book of the Acts no mention is made of any other James besides the son
of Alpheus (i. 13), so this James, of whom (Acts xv. 13) no more
precise description is given, can be no other than the son of Alpheus.
But Paul speaks of a James (Gal. i. 19) the Lord’s brother, whom he saw
at Jerusalem, and it is doubtless he of whom he speaks in connexion
with Cephas and John as the στύλοι (pillars) of the church—for this is
precisely in character with the (Apostle) James as he appeared at the
apostolic council—so that this James may be considered as identical
with the Lord’s brother, and the rather as the expression ἔτερον δὲ τῶν
ἀποστόλων οὐκ εἶδον, εἰ μὴ Ἰάκωβον τὸν ἀδελφὸν τοῦ Κυρίου (but other of
the apostles saw I none, save James the Lord’s brother. Gal. i. 19),
makes it appear as if the Lord’s brother were reckoned among the
apostles; with which also the ancient tradition which represents James
the Just, a brother of Jesus, as the first head of the church at
Jerusalem, agrees. [291] But admitting the James of the Acts to be
identical with the distinguished apostle of that name, then is he the
son of Alpheus, and not the son of Joseph; consequently if he be at the
same time ἀδελφὸς τοῦ Κυρίου, then ἀδελφὸς cannot signify a brother.
Now if Alpheus and Cleophas are admitted to be the same individual, the
husband of the sister of Mary the mother of Jesus, it is obvious that
ἀδελφὸς, used to denote the relationship of his son to Jesus, must be
taken in the signification, cousin. If, after this manner, James the
Apostle the son of Alpheus be identified with the cousin, and the
cousin be identified with the brother of Jesus of the same name, it is
obvious that Ἰούδας Ἰακώβου in the catalogue of the Apostles in Luke
(Luke vi. 16, Acts i. 13), must be translated brother of James (son of
Alpheus); and this Apostle Jude must be held as identical with the Jude
ἀδελφὸς Ἰησοῦ, that is, with the cousin of the Lord and son of Mary
Cleophas (though the name of Jude is never mentioned in connexion with
this Mary). If the Epistle of Jude in our canon be authentic, it is
confirmatory of the above deduction, that the author (verse 1)
designates himself as the ἀδελφὸς Ἰακώβου (brother of James). Some
moreover have identified the Apostle Simon ὁ ζηλωτὴς or Κανανίτης
(Zelotes or the Canaanite) with the Simon enumerated among the brothers
of Jesus (Mark vi. 3), and who according to a tradition of the church
succeeded James as head of the church at Jerusalem [292]; so that Joses
alone appears without further designation or appellative.

If, accordingly, those spoken of as ἀδελφοὶ Ἰησοῦ were merely cousins,
and three of these were apostles, it must excite surprise that not only
in the Acts (i. 14), after an enumeration of the apostles, the brothers
of Jesus are separately particularized, but that also (1 Cor. ix. 5)
they appear to be a class distinct from the apostles. Perhaps, also,
the passage Gal. i. 19 ought to be understood as indicating that James,
the Lord’s brother, was not an apostle. [293] If, therefore, the
ἀδελφοὶ Ἰησοῦ seem thus to be extruded from the number of the apostles,
it is yet more difficult to regard them merely as the cousins of Jesus,
since they appear in so many places immediately associated with the
mother of Jesus, and in two or three passages only are two men bearing
the same names mentioned in connexion with the other Mary, who
accordingly would be their real mother. The Greek word ἀδελφὸς may
indeed signify, in language which pretends not to precision, as well as
the Hebrew ‏אה‎, a more distant relative; but as it is repeatedly used
to express the relationship of these persons to Jesus, and is in no
instance replaced by ἀνεψιὸς—a word which is not foreign to the New
Testament language when the relationship of cousin is to be denoted
(Col. iv. 10), it cannot well be taken in any other than its proper
signification. Further, it need only be pointed out that the highest
degree of uncertainty exists respecting not only the identity of the
names Alpheus and Cleophas, upon which the identity of James the cousin
of Jesus and of the Apostle James the Less rests, but also regarding
the translation of Ἰούδας Ἰακώβου by the brother of James; and likewise
respecting the assumed identity of the author of the last Catholic
Epistle with the Apostle Jude.

Thus the web of this identification gives way at all points, and we are
forced back to the position whence we set out; so that we have again
real brothers of Jesus, also two cousins distinct from these brothers,
though bearing the same names with two of them, besides some apostles
of the same names with both brothers and cousins. To find two pairs of
sons of the same names in a family is, indeed, not so uncommon as to
become a source of objection. It is, however, remarkable that the same
James who in the Epistle to the Galatians is designated ἀδελφὸς Κυρίου
(the Lord’s brother), must unquestionably, according to the Acts of the
Apostles, be regarded as the son of Alpheus; which he could not be if
this expression signified a brother. So that there is perplexity on
every side, which can be solved only (and then, indeed, but negatively
and without historical result) by admitting the existence of obscurity
and error on this point in the New Testament writers, and even in the
very earliest Christian traditions; error which, in matters of involved
relationships and family names, is far more easily fallen into than
avoided. [294]

We have consequently no ground for denying that the mother of Jesus
bore her husband several other children besides Jesus, younger, and
perhaps also older; the latter, because the representation in the New
Testament that Jesus was the first-born may belong no less to the
mythus than the representation of the Fathers that he was an only son.

§ 31.

VISIT OF MARY TO ELIZABETH.

The angel who announced to Mary her own approaching pregnancy, at the
same time informed her (Luke i. 36) of that of her relative Elizabeth,
with whom it was already the sixth month. Hereupon Mary immediately set
out on a journey to her cousin, a visit which was attended by
extraordinary occurrences; for when Elizabeth heard the salutation of
Mary, the babe leaped in her womb for joy; she also became inspired,
and in her exultation poured forth an address to Mary as the future
mother of the Messiah, to which Mary responded by a hymn of praise
(Luke i. 39–56).

The rationalistic interpreter believes it to be an easy matter to give
a natural explanation of this narrative of the Gospel of Luke. He is of
opinion [295] that the unknown individual who excited such peculiar
anticipations, in Mary, had at the same time acquainted her with the
similar situation of her cousin Elizabeth. This it was which impelled
Mary the more strongly to confer on the subject with her older
relative. Arrived at her cousin’s dwelling, she first of all made known
what had happened to herself; but upon this the narrator is silent, not
wishing to repeat what he had just before described. And here the
Rationalist not only supposes the address of Elizabeth to have been
preceded by some communication from Mary, but imagines Mary to have
related her history piecemeal, so as to allow Elizabeth to throw in
sentences during the intervals. The excitement of Elizabeth—such is the
continuation of the rationalistic explanation—communicated itself,
according to natural laws, to the child, who, as is usual with an
embryo of six months, made a movement, which was first regarded by the
mother as significant, and as the consequence of the salutation, after
Mary’s farther communications. Just as natural does it appear to the
Rationalist that Mary should have given utterance to her Messianic
expectations, confirmed as they were by Elizabeth, in a kind of
psalmodic recitative, composed of reminiscences borrowed from various
parts of the Old Testament.

But there is much in this explanation which positively contradicts the
text. In the first place, that Elizabeth should have learned the
heavenly message imparted to Mary from Mary herself. There is no trace
in the narrative either of any communication preceding Elizabeth’s
address, or of interruptions occasioned by farther explanations on the
part of Mary. On the contrary, as it is a supernatural revelation which
acquaints Mary with the pregnancy of Elizabeth, so also it is to a
revelation that Elizabeth’s immediate recognition of Mary, as the
chosen mother of the Messiah, is attributed. [296] As little will the
other feature of this narrative—that the entrance of the mother of the
Messiah occasioned a responsive movement in his mother’s womb on the
part of his forerunner—bear a natural explanation. In modern times,
indeed, even orthodox interpreters have inclined to this explanation,
but with the modification, that Elizabeth in the first place received a
revelation, in which however the child, owing to the mother’s
excitement, a matter to be physiologically explained, likewise took
part. [297] But the record does not represent the thing as if the
excitement of the mother were the determining cause of the movement of
the child; on the contrary (v. 41), the emotion of the mother follows
the movement of the child, and Elizabeth’s own account states, that it
was the salutation of Mary (v. 44), not indeed from its particular
signification, but merely as the voice of the mother of the Messiah,
which produced the movement of the unborn babe: undeniably assuming
something supernatural. And indeed the supranaturalistic view of this
miracle is not free from objection, even on its own ground; and hence
the anxiety of the above-mentioned modern orthodox interpreters to
evade it. It may be possible to conceive the human mind immediately
acted upon by the divine mind, to which it is related, but how solve
the difficulty of an immediate communication of the divine mind to an
unintelligent embryo? And if we inquire the object of so strange a
miracle, none which is worthy presents itself. Should it be referred to
the necessity that the Baptist should receive the earliest possible
intimation of the work to which he was destined; still we know not how
such an impression could have been made upon an embryo. Should the
purpose be supposed to centre in the other individuals, in Mary or
Elizabeth; they had been the recipients of far higher revelations, and
were consequently already possessed of an adequate measure of insight
and faith.

No fewer difficulties oppose the rationalistic than the
supranaturalistic explanation of the hymn pronounced by Mary. For
though it is not, like the Canticle of Zacharias (v. 67) and the
address of Elizabeth (v. 41), introduced by the formula ἐπλήσθη
πνεύματος ἁγίου, she was filled with the Holy Ghost, still the
similarity of these utterances is so great, that the omission cannot be
adduced as a proof that the narrator did not intend to represent this,
equally with the other two, as the operation of the πνεῦμα (spirit).
But apart from the intention of the narrator, can it be thought natural
that two friends visiting one another should, even in the midst of the
most extraordinary occurrences, break forth into long hymns, and that
their conversation should entirely lose the character of dialogue, the
natural form on such occasions? By a supernatural influence alone could
the minds of the two friends be attuned to a state of elevation, so
foreign to their every-day life. But if, indeed, Mary’s hymn is to be
understood as the work of the Holy Spirit, it is surprising that a
speech emanating immediately from the divine source of inspiration
should not be more striking for its originality, but should be so
interlarded with reminiscences from the Old Testament, borrowed from
the song of praise spoken by the mother of Samuel (1 Sam. ii.) under
analogous circumstances. [298] Accordingly we must admit that the
compilation of this hymn, consisting of recollections from the Old
Testament, was put together in a natural way; but allowing its
composition to have been perfectly natural, it cannot be ascribed to
the artless Mary, but to him who poetically wrought out the tradition
in circulation respecting the scene in question.

Since then we find all the principal incidents of this visit
inconceivable according to the supernatural interpretation; also that
they will not bear a natural explanation; we are led to seek a mythical
exposition of this as well as the preceding portions of the gospel
history. This path has already been entered upon by others. The view of
this narrative given by the anonymous E. F. in Henke’s Magazine [299]
is, that it does not pourtray events as they actually did occur, but as
they might have occurred; that much which the sequel taught of the
destiny of their sons was carried back into the speeches of these
women, which were also enriched by other features gleaned from
tradition; that a true fact however lies at the bottom, namely an
actual visit of Mary to Elizabeth, a joyous conversation, and the
expression of gratitude to God; all which might have happened solely in
virtue of the high importance attached by Orientals to the joys of
maternity, even though the two mothers had been at that time ignorant
of the destination of their children. This author is of opinion that
Mary, when pondering over at a later period the remarkable life of her
son, may often have related the happy meeting with her cousin and their
mutual expressions of thankfulness to God, and that thus the history
gained currency. Horst also, who has a just conception of the
fictitious nature of this section in Luke, and ably refutes the natural
mode of explanation, yet himself slides unawares half-way back into it.
He thinks it not improbable that Mary during her pregnancy, which was
in many respects a painful one, should have visited her older and more
experienced cousin, and that Elizabeth should during this visit have
felt the first movement of her child: an occurrence which as it was
afterwards regarded as ominous, was preserved by the oral tradition.
[300]

These are farther examples of the uncritical proceeding which pretends
to disengage the mythical and poetical from the narrative, by plucking
away a few twigs and blossoms of that growth, whilst it leaves the very
root of the mythus undisturbed as purely historical. In our narrative
the principal mythical feature (the remainder forms only its adjuncts)
is precisely that which the above-mentioned authors, in their pretended
mythical explanations, retain as historical: namely, the visit of Mary
to the pregnant Elizabeth. For, as we have already seen, the main
tendency of the first chapter of Luke is to magnify Jesus by connecting
the Baptist with him from the earliest possible point in a relation of
inferiority. Now this object could not be better attained than by
bringing about a meeting, not in the first instance of the sons, but of
the mothers in reference to their sons, during their pregnancy, at
which meeting some occurrence which should prefigure the future
relative positions of these two men should take place. Now the more
apparent the existence of a dogmatical motive as the origin of this
visit, the less probability is there that it had an historical
foundation. With this principal feature the other details are connected
in the following order:—The visit of the two women must be represented
as possible and probable by the feature of family relationship between
Mary and Elizabeth (v. 36), which would also give a greater suitability
to the subsequent connexion of the sons. Further, a visit, so full of
import, made precisely at that time, must have taken place by special
divine appointment; therefore it is an angel who refers Mary to her
cousin. At the visit the subservient position of the Baptist to Jesus
is to be particularly exhibited;—this could have been effected by the
mother, as indeed it is, in her address to Mary, but it were better if
possible that the future Baptist himself should give a sign. The mutual
relation of Esau and Jacob had been prefigured by their struggles and
position in their mother’s womb (Gen. xxv. 22 ff.). But, without too
violent an offence against the laws of probability, an ominous movement
would not be attributed to the child prior to that period of her
pregnancy at which the motion of the fœtus is felt; hence the necessity
that Elizabeth should be in the sixth month of her pregnancy when Mary,
in consequence of the communication of the angel, set out to visit her
cousin (v. 36). Thus, as Schleiermacher remarks, [301] the whole
arrangement of times had reference to the particular circumstance the
author desired to contrive—the joyous responsive movement of the child
in his mother’s womb at the moment of Mary’s entrance. To this end only
must Mary’s visit be delayed till after the fifth month; and the angel
not appear to her before that period.

Thus not only does the visit of Mary to Elizabeth with all the
attendant circumstances disappear from the page of history, but the
historical validity of the further details—that John was only half a
year older than Jesus; that the two mothers were related; that an
intimacy subsisted between the families;—cannot be affirmed on the
testimony of Luke, unsupported by other authorities: indeed, the
contrary rather will be found substantiated in the course of our
critical investigations.

CHAPTER IV.

BIRTH AND EARLIEST EVENTS OF THE LIFE OF JESUS.

§ 32.

THE CENSUS.

With respect to the birth of Jesus, Matthew and Luke agree in
representing it as taking place at Bethlehem; but whilst the latter
enters into a minute detail of all the attendant circumstances, the
former merely mentions the event as it were incidentally, referring to
it once in an appended sentence as the sequel to what had gone before
(i. 25), and again as a presupposed occurrence (ii. 1). The one
Evangelist seems to assume that Bethlehem was the habitual residence of
the parents; but according to the other they are led thither by very
particular circumstances. This point of difference between the
Evangelists however can only be discussed after we shall have collected
more data; we will therefore leave it for the present, and turn our
attention to an error into which Luke, when compared with himself and
with dates otherwise ascertained, seems to have fallen. This is the
statement, that the census, decreed by Augustus at the time when
Cyrenius (Quirinus) was governor of Syria, was the occasion of the
journey of the parents of Jesus, who usually resided at Nazareth, to
Bethlehem where Jesus was born (Luke ii. 1 ff.).

The first difficulty is that the ἀπογραφὴ (namely, the inscription of
the name and amount of property in order to facilitate the taxation)
commanded by Augustus, is extended to all the world, πᾶσαν τὴν
οἰκουμένην. This expression, in its common acceptation at that time,
would denote the orbis Romanus. But ancient authors mention no such
general census decreed by Augustus; they speak only of the assessment
of single provinces decreed at different times. Consequently, it was
said Luke meant to indicate by οἰκουμένη merely the land of Judea, and
not the Roman world according to its ordinary signification. Examples
were forthwith collected in proof of the possibility of such an
interpretation, [302] but they in fact prove nothing. For supposing it
could not be shown that in all these citations from the Septuagint,
Josephus, and the New Testament, the expression really does signify, in
the extravagant sense of these writers, the whole known world; still in
the instance in question, where the subject is a decree of the Roman
emperor, πᾶσα ἡ οἰκουμένη must necessarily be understood of the regions
which he governed, and therefore of the orbis Romanus. This is the
reason that latterly the opposite side has been taken up, and it has
been maintained, upon the authority of Savigny, that in the time of
Augustus a census of the whole empire was actually undertaken. [303]
This is positively affirmed by late Christian writers [304]: but the
statement is rendered suspicious by the absence of all more ancient
testimony [305]; and it is even contradicted by the fact, that for a
considerable lapse of time an equal assessment throughout the empire
was not effected. Finally, the very expressions of these writers show
that their testimony rests upon that of Luke. [306] But, it is said,
Augustus at all events attempted an equal assessment of the empire by
means of an universal census; and he began the carrying out his project
by an assessment of individual provinces, but he left the further
execution and completion to his successors. [307] Admit that the gospel
term δόγμα (decree) may be interpreted as a mere design, or, as
Hoffmann thinks, an undetermined project expressed in an imperial
decree; still the fulfilment of this project in Judea at the time of
the birth of Jesus was impossible.

Matthew places the birth of Jesus shortly before the death of Herod the
Great, whom he represents (ii. 19) as dying during the abode of Jesus
in Egypt. Luke says the same indirectly, for when speaking of the
announcement of the birth of the Baptist, he refers it to the days of
Herod the Great, and he places the birth of Jesus precisely six months
later; so that according to Luke, also, Jesus was born, if not, like
John, previous to the death of Herod I., shortly after that event. Now,
after the death of Herod the country of Judea fell to his son Archelaus
(Matt. ii. 22), who, after a reign of something less than ten years,
was deposed and banished by Augustus, [308] at which time Judea was
first constituted a Roman province, and began to be ruled by Roman
functionaries. [309] Thus the Roman census in question must have been
made either under Herod the Great, or at the commencement of the reign
of Archelaus. This is in the highest degree improbable, for in those
countries which were not reduced in formam provinciæ, but were governed
by regibus sociis, the taxes were levied by these princes, who paid a
tribute to the Romans [310]; and this was the state of things in Judea
prior to the deposition of Archelaus. It has been the object of much
research to make it appear probable that Augustus decreed a census, as
an extraordinary measure, in Palestine under Herod. Attention has been
directed to the circumstance that the breviarium imperii, which
Augustus left behind him, contained the financial state of the whole
empire, and it has been suggested that, in order to ascertain the
financial condition of Palestine, he caused a statement to be prepared
by Herod. [311] Reference has been made first to the record of
Josephus, that on account of some disturbance of the relations between
Herod and Augustus, the latter threatened for the future to make him
feel his subjection [312]; secondly, also to the oath of allegiance to
Augustus which, according to Josephus, the Jews were forced to take
even during the lifetime of Herod. [313] From which it is inferred that
Augustus, since he had it in contemplation after the death of Herod to
restrict the power of his sons, was very likely to have commanded a
census in the last years of that prince. [314] But it seems more
probable that it took place shortly after the death of Herod, from the
circumstance that Archelaus went to Rome concerning the matter of
succession, and that during his absence the Roman procurator Sabinus
occupied Jerusalem, and oppressed the Jews by every possible means.
[315]

The Evangelist relieves us from a farther inquiry into this more or
less historical or arbitrary combination by adding, that this taxing
was first made when Cyrenius (Quirinus) was governor of Syria,
ἡγεμονεύοντος τῆς Συρίας Κυρηνίου; for it is an authenticated point
that the assessment of Quirinus did not take place either under Herod
or early in the reign of Archelaus, the period at which, according to
Luke, Jesus was born. Quirinus was not at that time governor of Syria,
a situation held during the last years of Herod by Sentius Saturninus,
and after him by Quintilius Varus; and it was not till long after the
death of Herod that Quirinus was appointed governor of Syria. That
Quirinus undertook a census of Judea we know certainly from Josephus,
[316] who, however, remarks that he was sent to execute this measure,
τῆς Ἀρχελάου χώρας εἰς ἐπαρχίαν περίγραφείσης, or, ὑποτελοῦς
προσνεμηθείσης τῇ Σύρων [317]; thus about ten years after the time at
which, according to Matthew and Luke, Jesus must have been born.

Yet commentators have supposed it possible to reconcile this apparently
undeniable contradiction between Luke and history. The most dauntless
explain the whole of the second verse as a gloss, which was early
incorporated into the text. [318] Some change the reading of the verse;
either of the nomen proprium, by substituting the name of Saturninus or
Quintilius, [319] according to the example of Tertullian, who ascribed
the census to the former [320]; or of the other words, by various
additions and modifications. Paulus’s alteration is the most simple. He
reads, instead of αὕτη, αὐτὴ, and concludes, from the reasons stated
above, that Augustus actually gave orders for a census during the reign
of Herod I., and that the order was so far carried out as to occasion
the journey of Joseph and Mary to Bethlehem; but that Augustus being
afterwards conciliated, the measure was abandoned, and αὐτὴ ἡ ἀπογραφὴ
was only carried into effect a considerable time later, by Quirinus.
Trifling as this alteration, which leaves the letters unchanged, may
appear, in order to render it admissible it must be supported by the
context. The reverse, however, is the fact. For if one sentence
narrates a command issued by a prince, and the very next sentence its
execution, it is not probable that a space of ten years intervened. But
chiefly, according to this view the Evangelist speaks, verse 1, of the
decree of the emperor; verse 2, of the census made ten years later; but
verse 3, without any remark, again of a journey performed at the time
the command was issued; which, in a rational narrative, is impossible.
Opposed to such arbitrary conjectures, and always to be ranked above
them, are the attempts to solve a difficulty by legitimate methods of
interpretation. Truly, however, to take πρώτη in this connexion for
προτέρα, and ἡγεμονεύοντος Κ. not for a genitive absolute, but for a
genitive governed by a comparative, and thus to understand an enrolment
before that of Quirinus, [321] is to do violence to grammatical
construction; and to insert πρὸ τῆς after πρώτη [322] is is no less
uncritical. As little is it to be admitted that some preliminary
measure, in which Quirinus was not employed, perhaps the already
mentioned oath of allegiance, took place during the lifetime of Herod,
in reference to the census subsequently made by Quirinus; and that this
preliminary step and the census were afterwards comprised under the
same name. In order in some degree to account for this appellation,
Quirinus is said to have been sent into Judea, in Herod’s time, as an
extraordinary tax-commissioner [323]; but this interpretation of the
word ἡγεμονεύοντος is rendered impossible by the addition of the word
Συρίας, in combination with which the expression can denote only the
Præses Syriæ.

Thus at the time at which Jesus, according to Matt. ii. 1, and Luke i.
5, 26, was born, the census of which Luke ii. 1 f. speaks could not
have taken place; so that if the former statements are correct, the
latter must be false. But may not the reverse be the fact, and Jesus
have been born after the banishment of Archelaus, and at the time of
the census of Quirinus? Apart from the difficulties in which this
hypothesis would involve us in relation to the chronology of the future
life of Jesus, a Roman census, subsequent to the banishment of
Archelaus, would not have taken the parents of Jesus from Nazareth in
Galilee to Bethlehem in Judea. For Judea only, and what otherwise
belonged to the portion of Archelaus, became a Roman province and
subjected to the census. In Galilee Herod Antipas continued to reign as
an allied prince, and none of his subjects dwelling at Nazareth could
have been called to Bethlehem by the census. The Evangelist therefore,
in order to get a census, must have conceived the condition of things
such as they were after the deposition of Archelaus; but in order to
get a census extending to Galilee, he must have imagined the kingdom to
have continued undivided, as in the time of Herod the Great. Thus he
deals in manifest contradictions; or rather he has an exceedingly sorry
acquaintance with the political relations of that period; for he
extends the census not only to the whole of Palestine, but also (which
we must not forget) to the whole Roman world.

Still these chronological incongruities do not exhaust the difficulties
which beset this statement of Luke. His representation of the manner in
which the census was made is subject to objection. In the first place,
it is said, the taxing took Joseph to Bethlehem, because he was of the
house and lineage of David, διὰ τὸ εἶναι αὐτὸν ἐξ οἴκου καὶ πατριᾶς
Δαβὶδ, and likewise every one into his own city, εἰς τὴν ἰδίαν πόλιν,
i.e. according to the context, to the place whence his family had
originally sprung. Now, that every individual should be registered in
his own city was required in all Jewish inscriptions, because among the
Jews the organization of families and tribes constituted the very basis
of the state. The Romans, on the contrary, were in the habit of taking
the census at the residences, and at the principal cities in the
district. [324] They conformed to the usages of the conquered countries
only in so far as they did not interfere with their own objects. In the
present instance it would have been directly contrary to their design,
had they removed individuals—Joseph for example—to a great distance,
where the amount of their property was not known, and their statement
concerning it could not be checked. [325] The view of Schleiermacher is
the more admissible, that the real occasion which took the parents to
Bethlehem was a sacerdotal inscription, which the Evangelist confounded
with the better known census of Quirinus. But this concession does not
obviate the contradiction in this dubious statement of Luke. He allows
Mary to be inscribed with Joseph, but according to Jewish customs
inscriptions had relation to men only. Thus, at all events, it is an
inaccuracy to represent Mary as undertaking the journey, in order to be
inscribed with her betrothed in his own city. Or, if with Paulus we
remove this inaccuracy by a forced construction of the sentence, we can
no longer perceive what inducement could have instigated Mary, in her
particular situation, to make so long a journey, since, unless we adopt
the airy hypothesis of Olshausen and others, that Mary was the heiress
of property in Bethlehem, she had nothing to do there.

The Evangelist, however, knew perfectly well what she had to do there;
namely, to fulfil the prophecy of Micah (v. 1), by giving birth, in the
city of David, to the Messiah. Now as he set out with the supposition
that the habitual abode of the parents of Jesus was Nazareth, so he
sought after a lever which should set them in motion towards Bethlehem,
at the time of the birth of Jesus. Far and wide nothing presented
itself but the celebrated census; he seized it the more unhesitatingly
because the obscurity of his own view of the historical relations of
that time, veiled from him the many difficulties connected with such a
combination. If this be the true history of the statement in Luke, we
must agree with K. Ch. L. Schmidt when he says, that to attempt to
reconcile the statement of Luke concerning the ἀπογραφὴ with
chronology, would be to do the narrator too much honour; he wished to
place Mary in Bethlehem, and therefore times and circumstances were to
accommodate themselves to his pleasure. [326]

Thus we have here neither a fixed point for the date of the birth of
Jesus, nor an explanation of the occasion which led to his being born
precisely at Bethlehem. If then—it may justly be said—no other reason
why Jesus should have been born at Bethlehem can be adduced than that
given by Luke, we have absolutely no guarantee that Bethlehem was his
birth-place.

§ 33.

PARTICULAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE BIRTH OF JESUS. THE CIRCUMCISION.

The basis of the narrative, the arrival of Joseph and Mary as strangers
in Bethlehem on account of the census, being once chosen by Luke, the
farther details are consistently built upon it. In consequence of the
influx of strangers brought to Bethlehem by the census, there is no
room for the travellers in the inn, and they are compelled to put up
with the accommodation of a stable where Mary is forthwith delivered of
her first-born. But the child, who upon earth comes into being in so
humble an abode, is highly regarded in heaven. A celestial messenger
announces the birth of the Messiah to shepherds who are guarding their
flocks in the fields by night, and directs them to the child in the
manger. A choir of the heavenly host singing hymns of praise next
appears to them, after which they seek and find the child. (Luke ii.
6–20.)

The apocryphal gospels and the traditions of the Fathers still further
embellished the birth of Jesus. According to the Protevangelium Jacobi,
[327] Joseph conducts Mary on an ass to Bethlehem to be taxed. As they
approach the city she begins to make now mournful, now joyous gestures,
and upon inquiry explains that—(as once in Rebecca’s womb the two
hostile nations struggled, Gen. xxv. 23)—she sees two people before
her, the one weeping, the other laughing: i.e. according to one
explanation, the two portions of Israel, to one of whom the advent of
Jesus was set (Luke ii. 34) εἰς πτῶσιν, for the fall, to the other εἰς
ἀνάστασιν, for the rising again. According to another interpretation,
the two people were the Jews who should reject Jesus, and the heathens
who should accept him. [328] Soon, however, whilst still without the
city—as appears from the context and the reading of several MSS.—Mary
is seized with the pains of child-bearing, and Joseph brings her into a
cave situated by the road side, where, veiled by a cloud of light, all
nature pausing in celebration of the event, she brings her child into
the world, and after her delivery is found, by women called to her
assistance, still a virgin. [329] The legend of the birth of Jesus in a
cave was known to Justin [330] and to Origen, [331] who, in order to
reconcile it with the account in Luke that he was laid in a manger,
suppose a manger situated within the cave. Many modern commentators
agree with them [332]; whilst others prefer to consider the cave itself
as φάτνη, in the sense of foddering-stall. [333] For the birth of Jesus
in a cave, Justin appeals to the prophecy in Isaiah xxviii. 16: οὗτος
(the righteous) οἰκήσει ἐν ὑψηλῷ σπηλαίῳ πέτρας ἱσχυρᾶς. In like
manner, for the statement that on the third day the child Jesus, when
brought from the cave into the stable, was worshipped by the oxen and
the asses, the Historia de Nativitate Mariae, [334] etc. refers to
Isaiah i. 3: cognovit bos possessorem suum, et asinus praesepe domini
sui. In several apocryphas, between the Magi and the women who assist
at the birth, the shepherds are forgotten; but they are mentioned in
the Evangelium infantiae arabicum, [335] where it says, that when they
arrived at the cave, and had kindled a fire of rejoicing, the heavenly
host appeared to them.

If we take the circumstances attending the birth of Jesus, narrated by
Luke, in a supranaturalistic sense, many difficulties occur. First, it
may reasonably be asked, to what end the angelic apparition? The most
obvious answer is, to make known the birth of Jesus; but so little did
it make it known that, in the neighbouring city of Jerusalem, it is the
Magi who give the first information of the new-born king of the Jews;
and in the future history of Jesus, no trace of any such occurrence at
his birth is to be found. Consequently, the object of that
extraordinary phenomenon was not to give a wide-spreading intimation of
the fact; for if so, God failed in his object. Must we then agree with
Schleiermacher, that the aim was limited to an immediate operation upon
the shepherds? Then we must also suppose with him, that the shepherds,
equally with Simeon, were filled with Messianic expectations, and that
God designed by this apparition to reward and confirm their pious
belief. The narrative however says nothing of this heavenly frame of
mind, neither does it mention any abiding effects produced upon these
men. According to the whole tenor of the representation, the apparition
seems to have had reference, not to the shepherds, but exclusively to
the glorification and the proclaiming of the birth of Jesus, as the
Messiah. But as before observed, the latter aim was not accomplished,
and the former, by itself, like every mere empty display, is an object
unworthy of God. So that this circumstance in itself presents no
inconsiderable obstacle to the supranaturalistic conception of the
history. If, to the above considerations, we add those already stated
which oppose the belief in apparitions and the existence of angels in
general, it is easy to understand that with respect to this narrative
also refuge has been sought in a natural explanation.

The results of the first attempts at a natural explanation were
certainly sufficiently rude. Thus Eck regarded the angel as a messenger
from Bethlehem, who carried a light which caught the eye of the
shepherds, and the song of the heavenly host as the merry tones of a
party accompanying the messenger. [336] Paulus has woven together a
more refined and matter of fact explanation. Mary, who had met with a
hospitable reception in a herdsman’s family, and who was naturally
elated with the hope of giving birth to the Messiah, told her
expectations to the members of this family; to whom as inhabitants of a
city of David the communication could not have been indifferent. These
shepherds therefore on perceiving, whilst in the fields by night, a
luminous appearance in the air—a phenomenon which travellers say is not
uncommon in those regions—they interpret it as a divine intimation that
the stranger in their foddering-stall is delivered of the Messiah; and
as the meteoric light extends and moves to and fro, they take it for a
choir of angels chaunting hymns of praise. Returning home they find
their anticipations confirmed by the event, and that which at first
they merely conjectured to be the sense and interpretation of the
phenomenon, they now, after the manner of the East, represent as words
actually spoken. [337]

This explanation rests altogether on the assumption, that the shepherds
were previously acquainted with Mary’s expectation that she should give
birth to the Messiah. How otherwise should they have been led to
consider the sign as referring particularly to the birth of the Messiah
in their manger? Yet this very assumption is the most direct
contradiction of the gospel account. For, in the first place, the
Evangelist evidently does not suppose the manger to belong to the
shepherds: since after he has narrated the delivery of Mary in the
manger, he then goes on to speak of the shepherds as a new and distinct
subject, not at all connected with the manger. His words are: and there
were in the same country shepherds, καὶ ποιμένες ἦσαν ἐν τῇ χώρᾳ τῇ
αὐτῇ. If this explanation were correct he would, at all events, have
said, the shepherds etc. οἱ δὲ ποιμένες κ.τ.λ.; besides he would not
have been wholly silent respecting the comings and goings of these
shepherds during the day, and their departure to guard the flock at the
approach of night. But, grant these presupposed circumstances, is it
consistent in Paulus to represent Mary, at first so reserved concerning
her pregnancy as to conceal it even from Joseph, and then so
communicative that, just arrived among strangers, she parades the whole
history of her expectations? Again the sequel of the narrative
contradicts the assumption that the shepherds were informed of the
matter by Mary herself, before her delivery. For, according to the
gospel history, the shepherds receive the first intelligence of the
birth of the Saviour σωτὴρ from the angel who appears to them, and who
tells them, as a sign of the truth of his communication, that they
shall find the babe lying in a manger. Had they already heard from Mary
of the approaching birth of the Messiah, the meteoric appearance would
have been a confirmation to them of Mary’s words, and not the finding
of the child a proof of the truth of the apparition. Finally, may we so
far confide in the investigations already made as to inquire, whence,
if neither a miraculous announcement nor a supernatural conception
actually occurred, could Mary have derived the confident anticipation
that she should give birth to the Messiah?

In opposition to this natural explanation, so full of difficulties on
every side, Bauer announced his adoption of the mythical view [338]; in
fact, however, he did not advance one step beyond the interpretation of
the Rationalists, but actually repeated Paulus’s exposition point for
point. To this mixed mythical explanation Gabler justly objected that
it, equally with the natural interpretation, multiplies
improbabilities: by the adoption of the pure, dogmatic mythus,
everything appears simpler; thereby, at the same time, greater harmony
is introduced into the early christian history, all the preceding
narratives of which ought equally to be interpreted as pure mythi.
[339] Gabler, accordingly, explained the narrative as the product of
the ideas of the age, which demanded the assistance of angels at the
birth of the Messiah. Now had it been known that Mary was delivered in
a dwelling belonging to shepherds, it would also have been concluded
that angels must have brought the tidings to these good shepherds that
the Messiah was born in their manger; and the angels who cease not
praising God, must have sung a hymn of praise on the occasion. Gabler
thinks it impossible, that a Jewish christian who should have known
some of the data of the birth of Jesus, could have thought of it
otherwise than as here depicted. [340]

This explanation of Gabler shows, in a remarkable manner, how difficult
it is entirely to extricate oneself from the natural explanation, and
to rise completely to the mythical; for whilst this theologian believes
he treads on pure mythical ground, he still stands with one foot upon
that of the natural interpretation. He selects from the account of Luke
one incident as historical which, by its connexion with other
unhistorical statements and its conformity to the spirit of the
primitive christian legend, is proved to be merely mythical; namely,
that Jesus was really born in a shepherd’s dwelling. He also borrows an
assumption from the natural explanation, which the mythical needs not
to obtrude on the text: that the shepherds, to whom it is alleged the
angels appeared, were the possessors of the manger in which Mary was
delivered. The first detail, upon which the second is built, belongs to
the same machinery by which Luke, with the help of the census,
transported the parents of Jesus from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Now we
know what is the fact respecting the census; it crumbles away
inevitably before criticism, and with it the datum built entirely upon
it, that Jesus was born in a manger. For had not the parents of Jesus
been strangers, and had they not come to Bethlehem in company with so
large a concourse of strangers as the census might have occasioned, the
cause which obliged Mary to accept a stable for her place of delivery
would no longer have existed. But, on the other hand, the incident,
that Jesus was born in a stable and saluted in the first instance by
shepherds, is so completely in accordance with the spirit of the
ancient legend, that it is evident the narrative may have been derived
purely from this source. Theophylact, in his time, pointed out its true
character, when he says: the angels did not appear to the scribes and
pharisees of Jerusalem who were full of all malice, but to the
shepherds, in the fields, on account of their simplicity and innocence,
and because they by their mode of life were the successors of the
patriarchs. [341] It was in the field by the flocks that Moses was
visited by a heavenly apparition (Exod. iii. 1 ff.); and God took
David, the forefather of the Messiah, from his sheepfolds (at
Bethlehem), to be the shepherd of his people. Psalm lxxviii. 70 (comp.
1 Sam. xvi. 11). The mythi of the ancient world more generally ascribed
divine apparitions to countrymen [342] and shepherds [343]; the sons of
the gods, and of great men were frequently brought up among shepherds.
[344] In the same spirit of the ancient legend is the apocryphal
invention that Jesus was born in a cave, and we are at once reminded of
the cave of Jupiter and of the other gods; even though the
misunderstood passage of Isaiah xxxiii. 16 may have been the immediate
occasion of this incident. [345] Moreover the night, in which the scene
is laid,—(unless one refers here to the rabbinical representations,
according to which, the deliverance by means of the Messiah, like the
deliverance from Egypt, should take place by night [346])—forms the
obscure background against which the manifested glory of the Lord shone
so much the more brilliantly, which, as it is said to have glorified
the birth of Moses, [347] could not have been absent from that of the
Messiah, his exalted antitype.

The mythical interpretation of this section of the gospel history has
found an opponent in Schleiermacher. [348] He thinks it improbable that
this commencement of the second chapter of Luke is a continuation of
the first, written by the same author; because the frequent
opportunities of introducing lyrical effusions—as for example, when the
shepherds returned glorifying and praising God, v. 20—are not taken
advantage of as in the first chapter; and here indeed we can in some
measure agree with him. But when he adds that a decidedly poetical
character cannot be ascribed to this narrative, since a poetical
composition would of necessity have contained more of the lyrical, this
only proves that Schleiermacher has not justly apprehended the notion
of that kind of poetry of which he here treats, namely, the poetry of
the mythus. In a word, mythical poetry is objective: the poetical
exists in the substance of the narrative, and may therefore appear in
the plainest form, free from all the adornments of lyrical effusions;
which latter are rather only the subsequent additions of a more
intelligent and artificially elaborated subjective poetry. [349]
Undoubtedly this section seems to have been preserved to us more nearly
in its original legendary form, whilst the narratives of the first
chapter in Luke bear rather the stamp of having been re-wrought by some
poetical individual; but historical truth is not on that account to be
sought here any more than there. Consequently the obligation which
Schleiermacher further imposes upon himself, to trace out the source of
this narrative in the Gospel of Luke, can only be regarded as an
exercise of ingenuity. He refuses to recognize that source in Mary,
though a reference to her might have been found in the observation, v.
19, she kept all these sayings in her heart; wherein indeed he is the
more right, since that observation (a fact to which Schleiermacher does
not advert) is merely a phrase borrowed from the history of Jacob and
his son Joseph. [350] For as the narrative in Genesis relates of Jacob,
the father of Joseph, that child of miracle, that when the latter told
his significant dreams, and his brethren envied him, his father
observed the saying: so the narrative in Luke, both here and at verse
51, relates of Mary, that she, whilst others gave utterance aloud to
their admiration at the extraordinary occurrences which happened to her
child, kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. But the
above-named theologian points out the shepherds instead of Mary as the
source of our narrative, alleging that all the details are given, not
from Mary’s point of view, but from that of the shepherds. More truly
however is the point of view that of the legend which supersedes both.
If Schleiermacher finds it impossible to believe that this narrative is
an air-bubble conglomerated out of nothing, he must include under the
word nothing the Jewish and early christian ideas—concerning Bethlehem,
as the necessary birthplace of the Messiah; concerning the condition of
the shepherds, as being peculiarly favoured by communications from
heaven; concerning angels, as the intermediate agents in such
communications—notions we on our side cannot possibly hold in so little
estimation, but we find it easy to conceive that something similar to
our narrative might have formed itself out out of them. Finally, when
he finds an adventitious or designed invention impossible, because the
Christians of that district might easily have inquired of Mary or of
the disciples concerning the truth of the matter: he speaks too nearly
the language of the ancient apologists, and presupposes the ubiquity of
these persons, [351] already alluded to in the Introduction, who
however could not possibly have been in all places rectifying the
tendency to form christian legends, wherever it manifested itself.

The notice of the circumcision of Jesus (Luke ii. 21), evidently
proceeds from a narrator who had no real advice of the fact, but who
assumed as a certainty that, according to Jewish custom, the ceremony
took place on the eighth day, and who was desirous of commemorating
this important event in the life of an Israelitish boy; [352] in like
manner as Paul (Phil. iii. 5) records his circumcision on the eighth
day. The contrast however between the fulness of detail with which this
point is elaborated and coloured in the life of the Baptist, and the
barrenness and brevity with which it is stated in reference to Jesus,
is striking, and may justify an agreement with the remark of
Schleiermacher, that here, at least the author of the first chapter is
no longer the originator. Such being the state of the case, this
statement furnishes nothing for our object, which we might not already
have known; only we have till now had no opportunity of observing,
distinctly, that the pretended appointment of the name of Jesus before
his birth likewise belongs merely to the mythical dress of the
narrative. When it is said his name was called Jesus, which was so
named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb, the importance
attached to the circumstance is a clear sign, that a dogmatic interest
lies at the bottom of this feature in the narrative; which interest can
be no other than that which gave rise to the statement—in the Old
Testament concerning an Isaac and an Ishmael, and in the New Testament
concerning a John—that the names of these children were, respectively,
revealed to their parents prior to their birth, and on account of which
interest the rabbins, in particular, expected that the same thing
should occur in relation to the name of the Messiah. [353] Without
doubt there were likewise other far more natural reasons which induced
the parents of Jesus to give him this name (‏יֵשׁוּעַ‎ an abbreviation of
‏יְהוֹשֻׁעַ‎, ὁ Κύριος σωτηρία); a name which was very common among his
countrymen; but because this name agreed in a remarkable manner with
the path of life subsequently chosen by him as Messiah and σωτὴρ, it
was not thought possible that this coincidence could have been
accidental. Besides it seemed more appropriate that the name of the
Messiah should have been determined by divine command than by human
arbitration, and consequently the appointment of the name was ascribed
to the same angel who had announced the conception of Jesus.

§ 34.

THE MAGI AND THEIR STAR. THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT AND THE MURDER OF THE
CHILDREN IN BETHLEHEM. CRITICISM OF THE SUPRANATURALISTIC VIEW.

In the Gospel of Matthew also we have a narrative of the Messiah’s
entrance into the world; it differs considerably in detail from that of
Luke, which we have just examined, but in the former part of the two
accounts there is a general similarity (Matt. ii. 1 ff.). The object of
both narratives is to describe the solemn introduction of the Messianic
infant, the heralding of his birth undertaken by heaven itself, and his
first reception among men. [354] In both, attention is called to the
new-born Messiah by a celestial phenomenon; according to Luke, it is an
angel clothed in brightness, according to Matthew, it is a star. As the
apparitions are different, so accordingly are the recipients; the angel
addresses simple shepherds; the star is discovered by eastern magi, who
are able to interpret for themselves the voiceless sign. Both parties
are directed to Bethlehem; the shepherds by the words of the angel, the
magi by the instructions they obtain in Jerusalem; and both do homage
to the infant; the poor shepherds by singing hymns of praise, the magi
by costly presents from their native country. But from this point the
two narratives begin to diverge widely. In Luke all proceeds happily;
the shepherds return with gladness in their hearts, the child
experiences no molestation, he is presented in the temple on the
appointed day, thrives and grows up in tranquillity. In Matthew, on the
contrary, affairs take a tragical turn. The inquiry of the wise men in
Jerusalem concerning the new-born King of the Jews, is the occasion of
a murderous decree on the part of Herod against the children of
Bethlehem, a danger from which the infant Jesus is rescued only by a
sudden flight into Egypt, whence he and his parents do not return to
the Holy Land till after the death of Herod.

Thus we have here a double proclamation of the Messianic child: we
might, however, suppose that the one by the angel, in Luke, would
announce the birth of the Messiah to the immediate neighbourhood; the
other, by means of the star, to distant lands. But as, according to
Matthew, the birth of Jesus became known at Jerusalem, which was in the
immediate vicinity, by means of the star; if this representation be
historical, that of Luke, according to which the shepherds were the
first to spread abroad with praises to God (v. 17, 20), that which had
been communicated to them as glad tidings for all people (v. 10),
cannot possibly be correct. So, on the other hand, if it be true that
the birth of Jesus was made known in the neighbourhood of Bethlehem as
Luke states, by an angelic communication to the shepherds, Matthew must
be in error when he represents the first intelligence of the event as
subsequently brought to Jerusalem (which is only from two to three
hours distant from Bethlehem) by the magi. But as we have recognized
many indications of the unhistorical character of the announcement by
the shepherds given in Luke, the ground is left clear for that of
Matthew, which must be judged of according to its inherent credibility.

Our narrative commences as if it were an admitted fact, that
astrologers possessed the power of recognizing a star announcing the
birth of the Messiah. That eastern magi should have knowledge of a King
of the Jews to whom they owed religious homage might indeed excite our
surprise; but contenting ourselves here with remarking, that seventy
years later an expectation did prevail in the east that a ruler of the
world would arise from among the Jewish people, [355] we pass on to a
yet more weighty difficulty. According to this narrative it appears,
that astrology is right when it asserts that the birth of great men and
important revolutions in human affairs are indicated by astral
phenomena; an opinion long since consigned to the region of
superstition. It is therefore to be explained, how this deceptive
science could in this solitary instance prove true, though in no other
case are its inferences to be relied on. The most obvious explanation,
from the orthodox point of view, is an appeal to the supernatural
intervention of God; who, in this particular instance, in order to
bring the distant magi unto Jesus, accommodated himself to their
astrological notions, and caused the anticipated star to appear. But
the adoption of this expedient involves very serious consequences. For
the coincidence of the remarkable sequel with the astrological
prognostic could not fail to strengthen the belief, not only of the
magi and their fellow-countrymen, but also of the Jews and Christians
who were acquainted with the circumstances, in the spurious science of
astrology, thereby creating incalculable error and mischief. If
therefore it be unadvisable to admit an extraordinary divine
intervention, [356] and if the position that in the ordinary course of
nature, important occurrences on this earth are attended by changes in
the heavenly bodies, be abandoned, the only remaining explanation lies
in the supposition of an accidental coincidence. But to appeal to
chance is in fact either to say nothing, or to renounce the
supranaturalistic point of view.

But the orthodox view of this account not only sanctions the false
science of astrology, but also confirms the false interpretation of a
passage in the prophets. For as the magi, following their star, proceed
in the right direction, so the chief priests and scribes of Jerusalem
whom Herod, on learning the arrival and object of the magi, summons
before him and questions concerning the birth-place of the King of the
Jews, interpret the passage in Micah v. 1 as signifying that the
Messiah should be born in Bethlehem; and to this signification the
event corresponds. Now such an application of the above passage can
only be made by forcing the words from their true meaning and from all
relation with the context, according to the well-known practice of the
rabbins. For independently of the question whether or not under the
word ‏מוֹשֵׁל‎, in the passage cited, the Messiah be intended, the entire
context shows the meaning to be, not that the expected governor who was
to come forth out of Bethlehem would actually be born in that city, but
only that he would be a descendant of David, whose family sprang from
Bethlehem. [357] Thus allowing the magi to have been lightly directed
by means of the rabbinical exegesis of the oracle, a false
interpretation must have hit on the truth, either by means of divine
intervention and accommodation, or by accident. The judgment pronounced
in the case of the star is applicable here also.

After receiving the above answer from the Sanhedrim, Herod summons the
magi before him, and his first question concerns the time at which the
star appeared (v. 7). Why did he wish to know this [358]? The 16th
verse tells us, that he might thereby calculate the age of the
Messianic child, and thus ascertain up to what age it would be
necessary for him to put to death the children of Bethlehem, so as not
to miss the one announced by the star. But this plan of murdering all
the children of Bethlehem up to a certain age, that he might destroy
the one likely to prove fatal to the interests of his family, was not
conceived by Herod until after the magi had disappointed his
expectation that they would return to Jerusalem; a deception which, if
we may judge from his violent anger on account of it (v. 16), Herod had
by no means anticipated. Prior to this, according to v. 8, it had been
his intention to obtain from the magi, on their return, so close a
description of the child, his dwelling and circumstances, that it would
be easy for him to remove his infantine rival without sacrificing any
other life. It was not until he had discovered the stratagem of the
magi, that he was obliged to have recourse to the more violent measure
for the execution of which it was necessary for him to know the time of
the star’s appearance. [359] How fortunate for him, then, that he had
ascertained this time before he had decided on the plan that made the
information important; but how inconceivable that he should make a
point which was only indirectly connected with his original project,
the subject of his first and most eager interrogation (v. 7)!

Herod, in the second place, commissions the magi to acquaint themselves
accurately with all that concerns the royal infant, and to impart their
knowledge to him on their return, that he also may go and tender his
homage to the child, that is, according to his real meaning, take sure
measures for putting him to death (v. 8). Such a proceeding on the part
of an astute monarch like Herod has long been held improbable. [360]
Even if he hoped to deceive the magi, while in conference with them, by
adopting this friendly mask, he must necessarily foresee that others
would presently awaken them to the probability that he harboured evil
designs against the child, and thus prevent them from returning
according to his injunction. He might conjecture that the parents of
the child on hearing of the ominous interest taken in him by the king,
would seek his safety by flight, and finally, that those inhabitants of
Bethlehem and its environs who cherished Messianic expectations, would
not be a little confirmed in them by the arrival of the magi. On all
these grounds, Herod’s only prudent measure would have been either to
detain the magi in Jerusalem, [361] and in the meantime by means of
secret emissaries to dispatch the child to whom such peculiar hopes
were attached, and who must have been easy of discovery in the little
village of Bethlehem; or to have given the magi companions who, so soon
as the child was found, might at once have put an end to his existence.
Even Olshausen thinks that these strictures are not groundless, and his
best defence against them is the observation that the histories of all
ages present unaccountable instances of forgetfulness—a proof that the
course of human events is guided by a supreme hand. When the
supernaturalist invokes the supreme hand in the case before us, he must
suppose that God himself blinded Herod to the surest means of attaining
his object, in order to save the Messianic child from a premature
death. But the other side of this divine contrivance is, that instead
of the one child, many others must die. There would be nothing to
object against such a substitution in this particular case, if it could
be proved that there was no other possible mode of rescuing Jesus from
a fate inconsistent with the scheme of human redemption. But if it be
once admitted, that God interposed supernaturally to blind the mind of
Herod and to suggest to the magi that they should not return to
Jerusalem, we are constrained to ask, why did not God in the first
instance inspire the magi to shun Jerusalem and proceed directly to
Bethlehem, whither Herod’s attention would not then have been so
immediately attracted, and thus the disastrous sequel perhaps have been
altogether avoided? [362] The supranaturalist has no answer to this
question but the old-fashioned argument that it was good for the
infants to die, because they were thus freed by transient suffering
from much misery, and more especially from the danger of sinning
against Jesus with the unbelieving Jews; whereas now they had the
honour of losing their lives for the sake of Jesus, and thus of ranking
as martyrs, and so forth. [363]

The magi leave Jerusalem by night, the favourite time for travelling in
the east. The star, which they seem to have lost sight of since their
departure from home, again appears and goes before them on the road to
Bethlehem, until at length it remains stationary over the house that
contains the wondrous child and its parents. The way from Jerusalem to
Bethlehem lies southward; now the true path of erratic stars is either
from west to east, as that of the planets and of some comets, or from
east to west, as that of other comets; the orbits of many comets do
indeed tend from north to south, but the true motion of all these
bodies is so greatly surpassed by their apparent motion from east to
west produced by the rotation of the earth on its axis, that it is
imperceptible except at considerable intervals. Even the diurnal
movement of the heavenly bodies, however, is less obvious on a short
journey than the merely optical one, arising from the observer’s own
change of place, in consequence of which a star that he sees before him
seems, as long as he moves forward, to pass on in the same direction
through infinite space; it cannot therefore stand still over a
particular house and thus induce a traveller to halt there also; on the
contrary, the traveller himself must halt before the star will appear
stationary. The star of the magi could not then be an ordinary, natural
star, but must have been one created by God for that particular
exigency, and impressed by him with a peculiar law of motion and rest.
[364] Again, this could not have been a true star, moving among the
systems of our firmament, for such an one, however impelled and
arrested, could never, according to optical laws, appear to pause over
a particular house. It must therefore have been something lower,
hovering over the earth’s surface; hence some of the Fathers and
apocryphal writers [365] supposed it to have been an angel, which,
doubtless, might fly before the magi in the form of a star, and take
its station at a moderate height above the house of Mary in Bethlehem;
more modern theologians have conjectured that the phenomenon was a
meteor. [366] Both these explanations are opposed to the text of
Matthew: the former, because it is out of keeping with the style of our
Gospels to designate anything purely supernatural, such as an angelic
appearance, by an expression that implies a merely natural object, as
ἀστὴρ (a star); the latter, because a mere meteor would not last for so
long a time as must have elapsed between the departure of the magi from
their remote home and their arrival in Bethlehem. Perhaps, however, it
will be contended that God created one meteor for the first monition,
and another for the second.

Many, even of the orthodox expositors, have found these difficulties in
relation to the star so pressing, that they have striven to escape at
any cost from the admission that it preceded the magi in their way
towards Bethlehem, and took its station directly over a particular
house. According to Süskind, whose explanation has been much approved,
the verb προῆγεν (went before) (v. 9), which is in the imperfect tense,
does not signify that the star visibly led the magi on their way, but
is equivalent to the pluperfect, which would imply that the star had
been invisibly transferred to the destination of the magi before their
arrival, so that the Evangelist intends to say: the star which the magi
had seen in the east and subsequently lost sight of, suddenly made its
appearance to them in Bethlehem above the house they were seeking; it
had therefore preceded them. [367] But this is a transplantation of
rationalistic artifice into the soil of orthodox exegesis. Not only the
word προῆγεν, but the less flexible expression ἕως ἐλθὼν κ.τ.λ. (till
it came, etc.) denotes that the transit of the star was not an already
completed phenomenon, but one brought to pass under the observation of
the magi. Expositors who persist in denying this must, to be
consistent, go still farther, and reduce the entire narrative to the
standard of merely natural events. So when Olshausen admits that the
position of a star could not possibly indicate a single house, that
hence the magi must have inquired for the infant’s dwelling, and only
with child-like simplicity referred the issue as well as the
commencement of their journey to a heavenly guide [368]; he deserts his
own point of view for that of the rationalists, and interlines the text
with explanatory particulars, an expedient which he elsewhere justly
condemns in Paulus and others.

The magi then enter the house, offer their adoration to the infant, and
present to him gifts, the productions of their native country. One
might wonder that there is no notice of the astonishment which it must
have excited in these men to find, instead of the expected prince, a
child in quite ordinary, perhaps indigent circumstances. [369] It is
not fair, however, to heighten the contrast by supposing, according to
the common notion, that the magi discovered the child in a stable lying
in the manger; for this representation is peculiar to Luke, and is
altogether unknown to Matthew, who merely speaks of a house, οἰκία, in
which the child was found. Then follows (v. 10) the warning given to
the magi in a dream, concerning which, as before remarked, it were only
to be wished that it had been vouchsafed earlier, so as to avert the
steps of the magi from Jerusalem, and thus perchance prevent the whole
subsequent massacre.

While Herod awaits the return of the magi, Joseph is admonished by an
angelic apparition in a dream to flee with the Messianic child and its
mother into Egypt for security (v. 13–15). Adopting the evangelist’s
point of view, this is not attended with any difficulty; it is
otherwise, however, with the prophecy which the above event is said to
fulfil, Hosea xi. 1. In this passage the prophet, speaking in the name
of Jehovah, says: When Israel was a child, then I loved him, and called
my son out of Egypt. We may venture to attribute, even to the most
orthodox expositor, enough clear-sightedness to perceive that the
subject of the first half of the sentence is also the object of the
second, namely the people of Israel, who here, as elsewhere, (e.g.
Exod. iv. 22, Sirach xxxvi. 14), are collectively called the Son of
God, and whose past deliverance under Moses out of their Egyptian
bondage is the fact referred to: that consequently, the prophet was not
contemplating either the Messiah or his sojourn in Egypt. Nevertheless,
as our evangelist says, v. 15, that the flight of Jesus into Egypt took
place expressly that the above words of Hosea might be fulfilled, he
must have understood them as a prophecy relating to Christ—must,
therefore, have misunderstood them. It has been pretended that the
passage has a twofold application, and, though referring primarily to
the Israelitish people, is not the less a prophecy relative to Christ,
because the destiny of Israel “after the flesh” was a type of the
destiny of Jesus. But this convenient method of interpretation is not
applicable here, for the analogy would, in the present case, be
altogether external and inane, since the only parallel consists in the
bare fact in both instances of a sojourn in Egypt, the circumstances
under which the Israelitish people and the child Jesus sojourned there
being altogether diverse. [370]

When the return of the magi has been delayed long enough for Herod to
become aware that they have no intention to keep faith with him, he
decrees the death of all the male children in Bethlehem and its
environs up to the age of two years, that being, according to the
statements of the magi as to the time of the star’s appearance, the
utmost interval that could have elapsed since the birth of the
Messianic child (16–18). This was, beyond all question, an act of the
blindest fury, for Herod might easily have informed himself whether a
child who had received rare and costly presents was yet to be found in
Bethlehem: but even granting it not inconsistent with the disposition
of the aged tyrant to the extent that Schleiermacher supposed, it were
in any case to be expected that so unprecedented and revolting a
massacre would be noticed by other historians than Matthew. [371] But
neither Josephus, who is very minute in his account of Herod, nor the
rabbins, who were assiduous in blackening his memory, give the
slightest hint of this decree. The latter do, indeed, connect the
flight of Jesus into Egypt with a murderous scene, the author of which,
however, is not Herod, but King Jannæus, and the victims not children,
but rabbins. [372] Their story is evidently founded on a confusion of
the occurrence gathered from the christian history, with an earlier
event; for Alexander Jannæus died 40 years before the birth of Christ.
Macrobius, who lived in the fourth century, is the only author who
notices the slaughter of the infants, and he introduces it obliquely in
a passage which loses all credit by confounding the execution of
Antipater, who was so far from a child that he complained of his grey
hairs, [373] with the murder of the infants, renowned among the
Christians. [374] Commentators have attempted to diminish our surprise
at the remarkable silence in question, by reminding us that the number
of children of the given age in the petty village of Bethlehem, must
have been small, and by remarking that among the numerous deeds of
cruelty by which the life of Herod was stained, this one would be lost
sight of as a drop in the ocean. [375] But in these observations the
specific atrocity of murdering innocent children, however few, is
overlooked; and it is this that must have prevented the deed, if really
perpetrated, from being forgotten. [376] Here also the evangelist cites
(v. 17, 18) a prophetic passage (Jerem. xxxi. 15), as having been
fulfilled by the murder of the infants; whereas it originally referred
to something quite different, namely the transportation of the Jews to
Babylon, and had no kind of reference to an event lying in remote
futurity.

While Jesus and his parents are in Egypt, Herod the Great dies, and
Joseph is instructed by an angel, who appears to him in a dream, to
return to his native country; but as Archelaus, Herod’s successor in
Judæa, was to be feared, he has more precise directions in a second
oracular dream, in obedience to which he fixes his abode at Nazareth in
Galilee, under the milder government of Herod Antipas (19–23). Thus in
the compass of this single chapter, we have five extraordinary
interpositions of God; an anomalous star, and four visions. For the
star and the first vision, we have already remarked, one miracle might
have been substituted, not only without detriment, but with advantage;
either the star or the vision might from the beginning have deterred
the magi from going to Jerusalem, and by this means perhaps have
averted the massacre ordained by Herod. But that the two last visions
are not united in one is a mere superfluity; for the direction to
Joseph to proceed to Nazareth instead of Bethlehem, which is made the
object of a special vision, might just as well have been included in
the first. Such a disregard, even to prodigality, of the lex parsimoniæ
in relation to the miraculous, one is tempted to refer to human
imagination rather than to divine providence.

The false interpretations of Old Testament passages in this chapter are
crowned by the last verse, where it is said that by the settlement of
the parents of Jesus at Nazareth was fulfilled the saying of the
prophets: He shall be called a Nazarene. Now this passage is not to be
found in the Old Testament, and unless expositors, losing courage, take
refuge in darkness by supposing that it is extracted from a canonical
[377] or apocryphal [378] book now lost, they must admit the
conditional validity of one or other of the following charges against
the evangelist. If, as it has been alleged, he intended to compress the
Old Testament prophecies that the Messiah would be despised, into the
oracular sentence, He shall be called a Nazarene, i.e. the citizen of a
despised city, [379] we must accuse him of the most arbitrary mode of
expression; or, if he be supposed to give a modification of ‏נזיר‎
(nasir) we must tax him with the most violent transformation of the
word and the grossest perversion of its meaning, for even if, contrary
to the fact, this epithet were applied to the Messiah in the Old
Testament, it could only mean either that he would be a Nazarite, [380]
which Jesus never was, or that he would be crowned, [381] as Joseph,
Gen. xlix. 26, in no case that he would be brought up in the petty town
of Nazareth. The most probable interpretation of this passage, and that
which has the sanction of the Jewish Christians questioned on the
subject by Jerome, is, that the evangelist here alludes to Isa. xi. 1,
where the Messiah is called ‏נֵעֶר יִשַׁי‎ (surculus Jesse) as elsewhere
‏צֶמַח‎. [382] But in every case there is the same violence done to the
word by attaching to a mere appellative of the Messiah, an entirely
fictitious relation to the name of the city of Nazareth.

§ 35.

ATTEMPTS AT A NATURAL EXPLANATION OF THE HISTORY OF THE MAGI.
TRANSITION TO THE MYTHICAL EXPLANATION.

To avoid the many difficulties which beset us at every step in
interpreting this chapter after the manner of the supranaturalists, it
is quite worth our while to seek for another exposition which may
suffice to explain the whole according to physical and psychological
laws, without any admixture of supernaturalism. Such an exposition has
been the most successfully attempted by Paulus.

How could heathen magi, in a remote country of the east, know anything
of a Jewish king about to be born? This is the first difficulty, and it
is removed on the above system of interpretation by supposing that the
magi were expatriated Jews. But this, apparently, is not the idea of
the evangelist.

For the question which he puts into the mouth of the magi, “Where is he
that is born King of the Jews?” distinguishes them from that people,
and as regards the tendency of the entire narrative, the church seems
to have apprehended it more correctly than Paulus thinks, in
representing the visit of the magi as the first manifestation of Christ
to the Gentiles. Nevertheless, as we have above remarked, this
difficulty may be cleared away without having recourse to the
supposition of Paulus.

Further, according to the natural explanation, the real object of the
journey of these men was not to see the new-born king, nor was its
cause the star which they had observed in the east; but they happened
to be travelling to Jerusalem perhaps with mercantile views, and
hearing far and wide in the land of a new-born king, a celestial
phenomenon which they had recently observed occurred to their
remembrance, and they earnestly desired to see the child in question.
By this means, it is true, the difficulty arising from the sanction
given to astrology by the usual conception of the story is diminished,
but only at the expense of unprejudiced interpretation. For even if it
were admissible unceremoniously to transform magi μάγους into
merchants, their purpose in this journey cannot have been a commercial
one, for their first inquiry on arriving at Jerusalem is after the
new-born king, and they forthwith mention a star, seen by them in the
east, as the cause not only of their question, but also of their
present journey, the object of which they aver to be the presentation
of their homage to the new-born child (v. 2).

The ἀστὴρ (star) becomes, on this method of interpretation, a natural
meteor, or a comet, [383] or finally, a constellation, that is, a
conjunction of planets. [384] The last idea was put forth by Kepler,
and has been approved by several astronomers and theologians. Is it
more easy, on any one of these suppositions, to conceive that the star
could precede the magi on their way, and remain stationary over a
particular house, according to the representation of the text? We have
already examined the two first hypotheses; if we adopt the third, we
must either suppose the verb προάγειν (v. 9) to signify the disjunction
of the planets, previously in apparent union, [385] though the text
does not imply a partition but a forward movement of the entire
phenomenon; or we must call Süskind’s pluperfect to our aid, and
imagine that the constellation, which the magi could no longer see in
the valley between Jerusalem and Bethlehem, again burst on their view
over the place where the child dwelt. [386] For the expression, ἐπάνω
οὗ ἦν τὸ παιδίον (v. 9), denotes merely the place of abode, not the
particular dwelling of the child and his parents. This we grant; but
when the evangelist proceeds thus: καὶ εἰσελθόντες εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν, (v.
9), he gives the more general expression the precise meaning of
dwelling-house, so that this explanation is clearly a vain effort to
abate the marvellousness of the evangelical narrative.

The most remarkable supposition adopted by those who regard ἀστὴρ as a
conjunction of planets, is that they hereby obtain a fixed point in
accredited history, to which the narrative of Matthew may be attached.
According to Kepler’s calculation, corrected by Ideler, there occurred,
three years before the death of Herod, in the year of Rome 747, a
conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn in the sign Pisces. The conjunction
of these planets is repeated in the above sign, to which astrologers
attribute a special relation to Palestine, about every 800 years, and
according to the computation of the Jew Abarbanel (1463) it took place
three years before the birth of Moses; hence it is probable enough that
the hope of the second great deliverer of the nation would be
associated with the recurrence of this conjunction in the time of
Herod, and that when the phenomenon was actually observed, it would
occasion inquiry on the part of Babylonian Jews. But that the star
mentioned by Matthew was this particular planetary conjunction, is,
from our uncertainty as to the year of Christ’s birth, and also as to
the period of the above astrological calculation, an extremely
precarious conjecture; and as, besides, there are certain particulars
in the evangelical text, for instance, the words προῆγεν and ἔστη,
which do not accord with such an explanation,—so soon as another, more
congruous with Matthew’s narrative, presents itself, we are justified
in giving it the preference.

The difficulties connected with the erroneous interpretations of
passages from the Old Testament are, from the natural point of view,
eluded by denying that the writers of the New Testament are responsible
for the falsity of these interpretations. It is said that the prophecy
of Micah is applied to the Messiah and his birth in Bethlehem by the
Sanhedrim alone, and that Matthew has not committed himself to their
interpretation by one word of approval. But when the evangelist
proceeds to narrate how the issue corresponded with the interpretation,
he sanctions it by the authoritative seal of fact. In relation to the
passage from Hosea, Paulus and Steudel [387] concur in resorting to a
singular expedient. Matthew, say they, wished to guard against the
offence which it might possibly give to the Jews of Palestine to learn
that the Messiah had once left the Holy Land; he therefore called
attention to the fact that Israel, in one sense the first-born of God,
had been called out of Egypt, for which reason, he would imply, no one
ought to be astonished that the Messiah, the son of God in a higher
sense, had also visited a profane land. But throughout the passage
there is no trace [388] of such a negative, precautionary intention on
the part of the evangelist in adducing this prophecy: on the contrary,
all his quotations seem to have the positive object to confirm the
Messiahship of Jesus by showing that in him the Old Testament
prophecies had their fulfilment. It has been attempted with reference
to the two other prophecies cited in this chapter, to reduce the
signification of the verb πληρωθῆναι (to be fulfilled) to that of mere
similitude or applicability; but the futility of the effort needs no
exposure.

The various directions conveyed to the persons of our narrative by
means of visions are, from the same point of view, all explained
psychologically, as effects of waking inquiries and reflections. This
appears, indeed, to be indicated by the text itself, v. 22, according
to which Joseph, hearing that Archelaus was master of Judea, feared to
go thither, and not until then did he receive an intimation from a
higher source in a dream. Nevertheless, on a closer examination we find
that the communication given in the dream was something new, not a mere
repetition of intelligence received in waking moments. Only the
negative conclusion, that on account of Archelaus it was not advisable
to settle at Bethlehem, was attained by Joseph when awake; the positive
injunction to proceed to Nazareth was superadded in his dream. To
explain the other visions in the above way is a direct interpolation of
the text, for this represents both the hostility and death of Herod as
being first made known to Joseph by dreams; in like manner, the magi
have no distrust of Herod until a dream warns them against his
treachery.

Thus, on the one hand, the sense of the narrative in Matt. ii. is
opposed to the conception of its occurrence as natural; on the other
hand, this narrative, taken in its original sense, carries the
supernatural into the extravagant, the improbable into the impossible.
We are therefore led to doubt the historical character of the
narrative, and to conjecture that we have before us something mythical.
The first propounders of this opinion were so unsuccessful in its
illustration, that they never liberated themselves from the sphere of
the natural interpretation, which they sought to transcend. Arabian
merchants (thinks Krug, for example) coming by chance to Bethlehem, met
with the parents of Jesus, and learning that they were strangers in
distress (according to Matthew, the parents of Jesus were not strangers
in Bethlehem), made them presents, uttered many good wishes for their
child, and pursued their journey. When subsequently, Jesus was reputed
to be the Messiah, the incident was remembered and embellished with a
star, visions, and believing homage. To these were added the flight
into Egypt and the infanticide; the latter, because the above incident
was supposed to have had some effect on Herod, who, on other grounds
than those alleged in the text, had caused some families in Bethlehem
to be put to death; the former, probably because Jesus had, with some
unknown object, actually visited Egypt at a later period. [389]

In this, as in the purely naturalistic interpretation, there remain as
so many garb, the arrival of some oriental travellers, the flight into
Egypt, and the massacre in Bethlehem; divested, however, of the
marvellous garb with which they are enveloped in the evangelical
narrative. In this unadorned form, these occurrences are held to be
intelligible and such as might very probably happen, but in point of
fact they are more incomprehensible even than when viewed through the
medium of orthodoxy, for with their supernatural embellishments
vanishes the entire basis on which they rest. Matthew’s narrative
adequately accounts for the relations between the men of the east and
the parents of Jesus; this attempt at mythical exposition reduces them
to a wonderful chance. The massacre at Bethlehem has, in the
evangelical narrative, a definite cause; here, we are at a loss to
understand how Herod came to ordain such an enormity; so, the journey
into Egypt, which had so urgent a motive according to Matthew, is on
this scheme of interpretation totally inexplicable. It may indeed be
said: these events had their adequate causes in accordance with the
regular course of things, but Matthew has withheld this natural
sequence and given a miraculous one in its stead. But if the writer or
legend be capable of environing occurrences with fictitious motives and
accessory circumstances, either the one or the other is also capable of
fabricating the occurrences themselves, and this fabrication is the
more probable, the more clearly we can show that the legend had an
interest in depicting such occurrences, though they had never actually
taken place.

This argument is equally valid against the attempt, lately made from
the supranaturalistic point of view, to separate the true from the
false in the evangelical narrative. In a narrative like this, says
Neander, we must carefully distinguish the kernel from the shell, the
main fact from immaterial circumstances, and not demand the same degree
of certitude for all its particulars. That the magi by their
astrological researches were led to anticipate the birth of a Saviour
in Judea, and hence journeyed to Jerusalem that they might offer him
their homage is, according to him, the only essential and certain part
of the narrative. But how, when arrived in Jerusalem, did they learn
that the child was to be born in Bethlehem? From Herod, or by some
other means? On this point Neander is not equally willing to guarantee
the veracity of Matthew’s statements, and he regards it as unessential.
The magi, he continues, in so inconsiderable a place as Bethlehem,
might be guided to the child’s dwelling by many providential
arrangements in the ordinary course of events; for example, by meeting
with the shepherds or other devout persons who had participated in the
great event. When however they had once entered the house, they might
represent the circumstances in the astrological guise with which their
minds were the most familiar. Neander awards an historical character to
the flight into Egypt and the infanticide. [390] By this explanation of
the narrative, only its heaviest difficulty, namely, that the star
preceded the magi on their way and paused above a single house, is in
reality thrown overboard; the other difficulties remain. But Neander
has renounced unlimited confidence in the veracity of the evangelist,
and admitted that a part of his narrative is unhistorical. If it be
asked how far this unhistorical portion extends, and what is its
kind—whether the nucleus around which legend has deposited its
crystallizations be historical or ideal—it is easy to show that the few
and vague data which a less lenient criticism than that of Neander can
admit as historical, are far less adapted to give birth to our
narrative, than the very precise circle of ideas and types which we are
about to exhibit.

§ 36.

THE PURELY MYTHICAL EXPLANATION OF THE NARRATIVE CONCERNING THE MAGI,
AND OF THE EVENTS WITH WHICH IT IS CONNECTED.

Several Fathers of the Church indicated the true key to the narrative
concerning the magi when, in order to explain from what source those
heathen astrologers could gather any knowledge of a Messianic star,
they put forth the conjecture that this knowledge might have been drawn
from the prophecies of the heathen Balaam, recorded in the Book of
Numbers. [391] K. Ch. L. Schmidt justly considers it a deficiency in
the exposition of Paulus, that it takes no notice of the Jewish
expectation that a star would become visible at the appearance of the
Messiah; and yet, he adds, this is the only thread to guide us to the
true origin of this narrative. [392] The prophecy of Balaam (Num. xxiv.
17), A star shall come out of Jacob, was the cause—not indeed, as the
Fathers supposed, that magi actually recognized a newly-kindled star as
that of the Messiah, and hence journeyed to Jerusalem—but that legend
represented a star to have appeared at the birth of Jesus, and to have
been recognized by astrologers as the star of the Messiah. The prophecy
attributed to Balaam originally referred to some fortunate and
victorious ruler of Israel; but it seems to have early received a
Messianic interpretation. Even if the translation in the Targum of
Onkelos, surget rex ex Jacobo et Messias (unctus) ungetur ex Israele,
prove nothing, because here the word unctus is synonymous with rex, and
might signify an ordinary king—it is yet worthy of notice that,
according to the testimony of Aben Ezra, [393] and the passages cited
by Wetstein and Schöttgen, many rabbins applied the prophecy to the
Messiah. The name Bar-Cocheba (son of a star), assumed by a noted
pseudo-Messiah under Hadrian, was chosen with reference to the
Messianic interpretation of Balaam’s prophecy.

It is true that the passage in question, taken in its original sense,
does not speak of a real star, but merely compares to a star the future
prince of Israel, and this is the interpretation given to it in the
Targum above quoted. But the growing belief in astrology, according to
which every important event was signalized by sidereal changes, soon
caused the prophecy of Balaam to be understood no longer figuratively,
but literally, as referring to a star which was to appear
contemporaneously with the Messiah. We have various proofs that a
belief in astrology was prevalent in the time of Jesus. The future
greatness of Mithridates was thought to be prognosticated by the
appearance of a comet in the year of his birth, and in that of his
accession to the throne [394]; and a comet observed shortly after the
death of Julius Cæsar, was supposed to have a close relation to that
event. [395] These ideas were not without influence on the Jews; at
least we find traces of them in Jewish writings of a later period, in
which it is said that a remarkable star appeared at the birth of
Abraham. [396] When such ideas were afloat, it was easy to imagine that
the birth of the Messiah must be announced by a star, especially as,
according to the common interpretation of Balaam’s prophecy, a star was
there made the symbol of the Messiah. It is certain that the Jewish
mind effected this combination; for it is a rabbinical idea that at the
time of the Messiah’s birth, a star will appear in the east and remain
for a long time visible. [397] The narrative of Matthew is allied to
this simpler Jewish idea; the apocryphal descriptions of the star that
announced the birth of Jesus, to the extravagant fictions about the
star said to have appeared in the time of Abraham. [398] We may
therefore state the opinion of K. Ch. L. Schmidt, [399] recently
approved by Fritzsche and De Wette, as the nearest approach to truth on
the subject of Matthew’s star in the east. In the time of Jesus it was
the general belief that stars were always the forerunners of great
events; hence the Jews of that period thought that the birth of the
Messiah would necessarily be announced by a star, and this supposition
had a specific sanction in Num. xxiv. 17. The early converted Jewish
Christians could confirm their faith in Jesus, and justify it in the
eyes of others, only by labouring to prove that in him were realized
all the attributes lent to the Messiah by the Jewish notions of their
age—a proposition that might be urged the more inoffensively and with
the less chance of refutation, the more remote lay the age of Jesus,
and the more completely the history of his childhood was shrouded in
darkness. Hence it soon ceased to be matter of doubt that the
anticipated appearance of a star was really coincident with the birth
of Jesus. [400] This being once presupposed, it followed as a matter of
course that the observers of this appearance were eastern magi; first,
because none could better interpret the sign than astrologers, and the
east was supposed to be the native region of their science; and
secondly, because it must have seemed fitting that the Messianic star
which had been seen by the spiritual eye of the ancient magus Balaam,
should, on its actual appearance be first recognized by the bodily eyes
of later magi.

This particular, however, as well as the journey of the magi into
Judea, and their costly presents to the child, bear a relation to other
passages in the Old Testament. In the description of the happier
future, given in Isaiah, chap. lx., the prophet foretells that, at that
time, the most remote people and kings will come to Jerusalem to
worship Jehovah, with offerings of gold and incense and all acceptable
gifts. [401] If in this passage the messianic times alone are spoken
of, while the Messiah himself is wanting, in Psalm lxxii. we read of a
king who is to be feared as long as the sun and moon endure, in whose
times the righteous shall flourish, and whom all nations shall call
blessed; this king might easily be regarded as the Messiah, and the
Psalm says of him nearly in the words of Isa. lx., that foreign kings
shall bring him gold and other presents. To this it may be added, that
the pilgrimage of foreign people to Jerusalem is connected with a risen
light, [402] which might suggest the star of Balaam. What was more
natural, when on the one hand was presented Balaam’s messianic star out
of Jacob (for the observation of which magian astrologers were the best
adapted); on the other, a light which was to arise on Jerusalem, and to
which distant nations would come, bringing gifts—than to combine the
two images and to say: In consequence of the star which had risen over
Jerusalem, astrologers came from a distant land with presents for the
Messiah whom the star announced? But when the imagination once had
possession of the star, and of travellers attracted by it from a
distance, there was an inducement to make the star the immediate guide
of their course, and the torch to light them on their way. This was a
favourite idea of antiquity: according to Virgil, a star, stella facem
ducens, marked out the way of Æneas from the shores of Troy to the west
[403]; Thrasybulus and Timoleon were led by celestial fires; and a star
was said to have guided Abraham on his way to Moriah. [404] Besides, in
the prophetic passage itself, the heavenly light seems to be associated
with the pilgrimage of the offerers as the guide of their course; at
all events the originally figurative language of the prophet would
probably, at a later period, be understood literally, in accordance
with the rabbinical spirit of interpretation. The magi are not
conducted by the star directly to Bethlehem where Jesus was; they first
proceed to Jerusalem. One reason for this might be, that the prophetic
passage connects the risen light and the offerers with Jerusalem; but
the chief reason lies in the fact, that in Jerusalem Herod was to be
found; for what was better adapted to instigate Herod to his murderous
decree, than the alarming tidings of the magi, that they had seen the
star of the great Jewish king?

To represent a murderous decree as having been directed by Herod
against Jesus, was the interest of the primitive christian legend. In
all times legend has glorified the infancy of great men by persecutions
and attempts on their life; the greater the danger that hovered over
them, the higher seems their value; the more unexpectedly their
deliverance is wrought, the more evident is the esteem in which they
are held by heaven. Hence in the history of the childhood of Cyrus in
Herodotus, of Romulus in Livy, [405] and even later of Augustus in
Suetonius, [406] we find this trait; neither has the Hebrew legend
neglected to assign such a distinction to Moses. [407] One point of
analogy between the narrative in Exod. i., ii., and that in Matthew, is
that in both cases the murderous decree does not refer specially to the
one dangerous child, but generally to a certain class of children; in
the former, to all new-born males, in the latter to all of and under
the age of two years. It is true that, according to the narrative in
Exodus, the murderous decree is determined on without any reference to
Moses, of whose birth Pharaoh is not supposed to have had any
presentiment, and who is therefore only by accident implicated in its
consequences. But this representation did not sufficiently mark out
Moses as the object of hostile design to satisfy the spirit of Hebrew
tradition, and by the time of Josephus it had been so modified as to
resemble more nearly the legends concerning Cyrus and Augustus, and
above all the narrative of Matthew. According to the later legend,
Pharaoh was incited to issue his murderous decree by a communication
from his interpreters of the sacred writings, who announced to him the
birth of an infant destined to succour the Israelites and humble the
Egyptians. [408] The interpreters of the sacred writings here play the
same part as the interpreters of dreams in Herodotus, and the
astrologers in Matthew. Legend was not content with thus signalizing
the infancy of the lawgiver alone—it soon extended the same distinction
to the great progenitor of the Israelitish nation, Abraham, whom it
represented as being in peril of his life from the murderous attempt of
a jealous tyrant, immediately after his birth. Moses was opposed to
Pharaoh as an enemy and oppressor; Abraham held the same position with
respect to Nimrod. This monarch was forewarned by his sages, whose
attention had been excited by a remarkable star, that Tharah would have
a son from whom a powerful nation would descend. Apprehensive of
rivalry, Nimrod immediately issues a murderous command, which, however,
Abraham happily escapes. [409] What wonder then, that, as the great
progenitor and the lawgiver of the nation had their Nimrod and Pharaoh,
a corresponding persecutor was found for the restorer of the nation,
the Messiah, in the person of Herod;—that this tyrant was said to have
been apprised of the Messiah’s birth by wise men, and to have laid
snares against his life, from which, however, he happily escapes? The
apocryphal legend, indeed, has introduced an imitation of this trait,
after its own style, into the history of the Forerunner; he, too, is
endangered by Herod’s decree, a mountain is miraculously cleft asunder
to receive him and his mother, but his father refusing to point out the
boy’s hiding place, is put to death. [410]

Jesus escapes from the hostile attempts of Herod by other means than
those by which Moses, according to the mosaic history, and Abraham,
according to the Jewish legend, elude the decree issued against them;
namely, by a flight out of his native land into Egypt. In the life of
Moses also there occurs a flight into a foreign land; not, however,
during his childhood, but after he had slain the Egyptian, when,
fearing the vengeance of Pharaoh, he takes refuge in Midian (Exod. ii.
15). That reference was made to this flight of the first Goël in that
of the second, our text expressly shows, for the words, which it
attributes to the angel, who encourages Joseph to return out of Egypt
into Palestine, are those by which Moses is induced to return out of
Midian into Egypt. [411] The choice of Egypt as a place of refuge for
Jesus, may be explained in the simplest manner: the young Messiah could
not, like Moses, flee out of Egypt; hence, that his history might not
be destitute of so significant a feature as a connexion with Egypt,
that ancient retreat of the patriarchs, the relation was reversed, and
he was made to flee into Egypt, which, besides, from its vicinity, was
the most appropriate asylum for a fugitive from Judea. The prophetic
passage which the evangelist cites from Hosea xi. 1, Out of Egypt have
I called my son—is less available for the elucidation of this
particular in our narrative. For the immediate proofs that the Jews
referred this passage to the Messiah are very uncertain; [412] though,
if we compare such passages as Ps. ii. 7, in which the words ‏בְּנִי אַתָּה‎
(thou art my son) are interpreted of the Messiah, it cannot appear
incredible that the expression ‏לִבְנִי‎ (my son) in Hosea was supposed to
have a messianic signification.

Against this mythical derivation of the narrative, two objections have
been recently urged. First, if the history of the star originated in
Balaam’s prophecy, why, it is asked, does not Matthew, fond as he is of
showing the fulfilment of Old Testament predictions in the life of
Jesus, make the slightest allusion to that prophecy? [413] Because it
was not he who wove this history out of the materials furnished in the
Old Testament; he received it, already fashioned, from others, who did
not communicate to him its real origin. For the very reason that many
narratives were transmitted to him without their appropriate keys, he
sometimes tries false ones; as in our narrative, in relation to the
Bethlehem massacre, he quotes, under a total misconception of the
passage, Jeremiah’s image of Rachel weeping for her children. [414] The
other objection is this: how could the communities of Jewish
Christians, whence this pretended mythus must have sprung, ascribe so
high an importance to the heathen as is implied in the star of the
magi? [415] As if the prophets had not, in such passages as we have
quoted, already ascribed to them this importance, which, in fact,
consists but in their rendering homage and submission to the Messiah, a
relation that must be allowed to correspond with the ideas of the
Jewish Christians, not to speak of the particular conditions on which
the heathen were to be admitted into the kingdom of the Messiah.

We must therefore abide by the mythical interpretation of our
narrative, and content ourselves with gathering from it no particular
fact in the life of Jesus, but only a new proof how strong was the
impression of his messiahship left by Jesus on the minds of his
contemporaries, since even the history of his childhood received a
messianic form. [416]

Let us now revert to the narrative of Luke, chap. ii., so far as it
runs parallel with that of Matthew. We have seen that the narrative of
Matthew does not allow us to presuppose that of Luke as a series of
prior incidents: still less can the converse be true, namely, that the
magi arrived before the shepherds: it remains then to be asked, whether
the two narratives do not aim to represent the same fact, though they
have given it a different garb? From the older orthodox opinion that
the star in Matthew was an angel, it was an easy step to identify that
apparition with the angel in Luke, and to suppose that the angels, who
appeared to the shepherds of Bethlehem on the night of the birth of
Jesus, were taken by the distant magi for a star vertical to Judea,
[417] so that both the accounts might be essentially correct. Of late,
only one of the Evangelists has been supposed to give the true
circumstances, and Luke has had the preference, Matthew’s narrative
being regarded as an embellished edition.

According to this opinion, the angel clothed in heavenly brightness, in
Luke, became a star in the tradition recorded by Matthew, the ideas of
angels and stars being confounded in the higher Jewish theology; the
shepherds were exalted into royal magi, kings being in antiquity called
the shepherds of their people. [418] This derivation is too elaborate
to be probable, even were it true, as it is here assumed, that Luke’s
narrative bears the stamp of historical credibility. As, however, we
conceive that we have proved the contrary, and as, consequently, we
have before us two equally unhistorical narratives, there is no reason
for preferring a forced and unnatural derivation of Matthew’s narrative
from that of Luke, to the very simple derivation which may be traced
through Old Testament passages and Jewish notions. These two
descriptions of the introduction of Jesus into the world, are,
therefore, two variations on the same theme, composed, however, quite
independently of each other.

§ 37.

CHRONOLOGICAL RELATION BETWEEN THE VISIT OF THE MAGI, TOGETHER WITH THE
FLIGHT INTO EGYPT, AND THE PRESENTATION IN THE TEMPLE RECORDED BY LUKE.

It has been already remarked, that the narratives of Matthew and Luke
above considered at first run tolerably parallel, but afterwards widely
diverge; for instead of the tragical catastrophe of the massacre and
flight, Luke has preserved to us the peaceful scene of the presentation
of the child Jesus in the temple. Let us for the present shut our eyes
to the result of the preceding inquiry—the purely mythical character of
Matthew’s narrative—and ask: In what chronological relation could the
presentation in the temple stand to the visit of the magi and the
flight into Egypt?

Of these occurrences the only one that has a precise date is the
presentation in the temple, of which it is said that it took place at
the expiration of the period appointed by the law for the purification
of a mother, that is, according to Lev. xii. 2–4, forty days after the
birth of the child (Luke ii. 22). The time of the other incidents is
not fixed with the same exactness; it is merely said that the magi came
to Jerusalem, τοῦ Ἰησοῦ γεννηθέντος ἐν Βηθλεὲμ (Matt. ii. 1)—how long
after the birth the Evangelist does not decide. As, however, the
participle connects the visit of the magi with the birth of the child,
if not immediately, at least so closely that nothing of importance can
be supposed to have intervened, some expositors have been led to the
opinion that the visit ought to be regarded as prior to the
presentation in the temple. [419] Admitting this arrangement, we have
to reconcile it with one of two alternatives; either the flight into
Egypt also preceded the presentation in the temple; or, while the visit
of the magi preceded, the flight followed that event. If we adopt the
latter alternative, and thrust the presentation in the temple between
the visit of the magi and the flight, we come into collision at once
with the text of Matthew and the mutual relation of the facts. The
Evangelist connects the command to flee into Egypt with the return of
the magi, by a participial construction (v. 13) similar to that by
which he connects the arrival of the oriental sages with the birth of
Jesus; hence those, who in the one instance hold such a construction to
be a reason for placing the events which it associates in close
succession, must in the other instance be withheld by it from inserting
a third occurrence between the visit and the flight. As regards the
mutual relation of the facts, it can hardly be considered probable,
that at the very point of time in which Joseph received a divine
intimation, that he was no longer safe in Bethlehem from the designs of
Herod, he should be permitted to take a journey to Jerusalem, and thus
to rush directly into the lion’s mouth. At all events, the strictest
precautions must have been enjoined on all who were privy to the
presence of the messianic child in Jerusalem, lest a rumour of the fact
should get abroad. But there is no trace of this solicitous incognito
in Luke’s narrative; on the contrary, not only does Simeon call
attention to Jesus in the temple, unchecked either by the Holy Spirit
or by the parents, but Anna also thinks she is serving the good cause,
by publishing as widely as possible the tidings of the Messiah’s birth
(Luke ii. 28 ff., 38). It is true that she is said to have confined her
communications to those who were like-minded with herself (ἐλάλει περὶ
αὐτοῦ πᾶσι τοῖς προσδεχομένοις λύτρωσιν ἐν Ἰερουσαλὴμ), but this could
not hinder them from reaching the ears of the Herodian party, for the
greater the excitement produced by such news on the minds of those who
looked for redemption, the more would the vigilance of the government
be aroused, so that Jesus would inevitably fall into the hands of the
tyrant who was lying in wait.

Thus in any case, they who place the presentation in the temple after
the visit of the magi, must also determine to postpone it until after
the return from Egypt. But even this arrangement clashes with the
evangelical statement; for it requires us to insert, between the birth
of Jesus and his presentation in the temple, the following events: the
arrival of the magi, the flight into Egypt, the Bethlehem massacre, the
death of Herod, and the return of the parents of Jesus out of
Egypt—obviously too much to be included in the space of forty days. It
must therefore be supposed that the presentation of the child, and the
first appearance of the mother in the temple, were procrastinated
beyond the time appointed by the law. This expedient, however, runs
counter to the narrative of Luke, who expressly says, that the visit to
the temple took place at the legal time. But in either case the
difficulty is the same; the parents of Jesus could, according to
Matthew’s account, as little think of a journey to Jerusalem after
their return from Egypt, as immediately previous to their departure
thither. For if Joseph, on his return from Egypt, was warned not to
enter Judea, because Archelaus was Herod’s successor in that province,
he would least of all venture to Jerusalem, the very seat of the
redoubted government.

On neither of the above plans, therefore, will the presentation in the
temple bear to be placed after the visit of the magi, and the only
remaining alternative, which is embraced by the majority of
commentators, [420] is to make the incident noticed by Luke, precede
both those narrated by Matthew. This is so far the most natural, that
in Matthew there is at least an indirect intimation of a considerable
interval between the birth of Jesus and the arrival of the magi. For we
are told that Herod’s decree included all the children in Bethlehem up
to the age of two years; we must therefore necessarily infer, that even
if Herod, to make sure of his object, exceeded the term fixed by the
magi, the star had been visible to these astrologers for more than a
year. Now the narrator seems to suppose the appearance of the star to
have been cotemporary with the birth of Jesus. Viewing the narratives
in this order, the parents of Jesus first journeyed from Bethlehem,
where the child was born, to Jerusalem, there to present the legal
offerings; they next returned to Bethlehem, where (according to Matt.
ii. 1 and 5) they were found by the magi; then followed the flight into
Egypt, and after the return from thence, the settlement at Nazareth.
The first and most urgent question that here suggests itself is this:
What had the parents of Jesus to do a second time in Bethlehem, which
was not their home, and where their original business connected with
the census must surely have been despatched in the space of forty days?
The discussion of this question must be deferred, but we can find an
ample substitute for this argument, drawn from the nature of the fact,
in one which rests on the words of the evangelical narrative. Luke (v.
39) says, in the most definite manner, that after the completion of the
legal observance, the parents of Jesus returned to Nazareth, as to
their proper home, not to Bethlehem, which, according to him, was
merely a temporary residence. [421] If, then, the magi arrived after
the presentation in the temple, they must have met with the parents of
Jesus in Nazareth, and not in Bethlehem, as Matthew states. Moreover,
had the arrival of the magi really been preceded by the presentation in
the temple, together with the attention which must have been excited by
the language of Simeon and Anna; it is impossible that at the period of
that arrival the birth of the messianic child could have been so much a
secret in Jerusalem, that the announcement of it by the magi should be,
as Matthew relates, a source of general astonishment. [422]

If, then, the presentation of Jesus in the temple can have taken place
neither earlier nor later than the visit of the magi and the flight
into Egypt; and if the flight into Egypt can have taken place neither
earlier nor later than the presentation in the temple; it is impossible
that both these occurrences really happened, and, at the very utmost,
only one can be historical. [423]

To escape from this dangerous dilemma, supranaturalism has lately been
induced to take a freer position, that by the surrender of what is no
longer tenable, the residue may be saved. Neander finds himself
constrained to admit, that neither did Luke know anything of what
Matthew communicates concerning the childhood of Jesus, nor did the
Greek editor of Matthew (to be distinguished from the apostle) know
anything of the events detailed by Luke. But, he contends, it does not
therefore follow that both the different series of incidents cannot
have happened. [424] By giving this turn to the matter, the
difficulties arising from the words of the Evangelist are certainly
avoided; not so, the difficulties arising from the nature of the facts.
The first Evangelist ranges in close succession the visit of the magi
and the flight into Egypt, as though no change of place had intervened;
the author of the third Gospel represents the parents of Jesus as
returning with the child, after the presentation in the temple,
directly to Nazareth. We cannot, on this ground, argue from one
evangelist against the other; for it is inadmissible to maintain that
certain events never happened, because they were unknown to a remote
narrator. But viewing the two narratives in another light, we perceive
how improbable it is that, after the scene in the temple, the birth of
the messianic child should be so entirely unknown in Jerusalem as the
conduct of Herod on the arrival of the magi implies; how incredible
(reversing the order of the events) that Joseph should be permitted to
go to Jerusalem, with the child which Herod had just sought to kill;
how inconceivable, finally, that the parents of Jesus should have
returned to Bethlehem after the presentation in the temple (of which
more hereafter). All these difficulties, lying in the nature of the
facts, difficulties not less weighty than those connected with the
words of the Evangelists, still subsist in Neander’s explanation, and
prove its inadequacy.

Thus the dilemma above stated remains, and were we compelled to choose
under it, we should, in the present stage of our inquiry, on no account
decide in favour of Matthew’s narrative, and against that of Luke; on
the contrary, as we have recognized the mythical character of the
former, we should have no resource but to adhere, with our modern
critics, [425] to the narrative of Luke, and surrender that of Matthew.
But is not Luke’s narrative of the same nature as that of Matthew, and
instead of having to choose between the two, must we not deny to both
an historical character? The answer to this question will be found in
the succeeding examination.

§ 38.

THE PRESENTATION OF JESUS IN THE TEMPLE.

The narrative of the presentation of Jesus in the temple (Luke ii. 22)
seems, at the first glance, to bear a thoroughly historical stamp. A
double law, on the one hand, prescribing to the mother an offering of
purification, on the other, requiring the redemption of the first-born
son, leads the parents of Jesus to Jerusalem and to the temple. Here
they meet with a devout man, absorbed in the expectation of the
Messiah, named Simeon. Many expositors hold this Simeon to be the same
with the Rabbi Simeon, the son of Hillel, his successor as president of
the Sanhedrim, and the father of Gamaliel; some even identify him with
the Sameas of Josephus, [426] and attach importance to his pretended
descent from David, because this descent makes him a relative of Jesus,
and helps to explain the following scene naturally; but this hypothesis
is improbable, for Luke would hardly have introduced so celebrated a
personage by the meagre designation, ἄνθρωπός τις, (a certain man).
[427] Without this hypothesis, however, the scene between the parents
of Jesus and Simeon, as also the part played by Anna the prophetess,
seems to admit of a very natural explanation. There is no necessity for
supposing, with the author of the Natural History, [428] that Simeon
was previously aware of the hope cherished by Mary that she was about
to give birth to the Messiah; we need only, with Paulus and others,
conceive the facts in the following manner. Animated, like many of that
period, with the hope of the speedy advent of the Messiah, Simeon
receives, probably in a dream, the assurance that before his death he
will be permitted to see the expected deliverer of his nation. One day,
in obedience to an irresistible impulse, he visited the temple, and on
this very day Mary brought thither her child, whose beauty at once
attracted his notice; on learning the child’s descent from David, the
attention and interest of Simeon were excited to a degree that induced
Mary to disclose to him the hopes which were reposed on this scion of
ancient royalty, with the extraordinary occurrences by which they had
been called into existence. These hopes Simeon embraced with
confidence, and in enthusiastic language gave utterance to his
messianic expectations and forebodings, under the conviction that they
would be fulfilled in this child. Still less do we need the supposition
of the author of the Natural History with respect to Anna, namely, that
she was one of the women who assisted at the birth of the infant Jesus,
and was thus acquainted beforehand with the marvels and the hopes that
had clustered round his cradle; she had heard the words of Simeon, and
being animated by the same sentiments, she gave them her approval.

Simple as this explanation appears, it is not less arbitrary than we
have already found other specimens of natural interpretation. The
evangelist nowhere says, that the parents of Jesus had communicated
anything concerning their extraordinary hopes to Simeon, before he
poured forth his inspired words; on the contrary, the point of his
entire narrative consists in the idea that the aged saint had, by
virtue of the spirit with which he was filled, instantaneously
discerned in Jesus the messianic child, and the reason why the
co-operation of the Holy Spirit is insisted on, is to make it evident
how Simeon was enabled, without any previous information, to recognise
in Jesus the promised child, and at the same time to foretell the
course of his destiny. Our canonical Gospel refers Simeon’s recognition
of Jesus to a supernatural principle resident in Simeon himself; the
Evangelium infantiæ arabicum refers it to something objective in the
appearance of Jesus [429]—far more in the spirit of the original
narrative than the natural interpretation, for it retains the
miraculous element. But, apart from the general reasons against the
credibility of miracles, the admission of a miracle in this instance is
attended with a special difficulty, because no worthy object for an
extraordinary manifestation of divine power is discoverable. For, that
the above occurrence during the infancy of Jesus served to disseminate
and establish in more distant circles the persuasion of his
Messiahship, there is no indication; we must therefore, with the
Evangelist, limit the object of these supernatural communications to
Simeon and Anna, to whose devout hopes was vouchsafed the special
reward of having their eyes enlightened to discern the messianic child.
But that miracles should be ordained for such occasional and isolated
objects, is not reconcileable with just ideas of divine providence.

Thus here again we find reason to doubt the historical character of the
narrative, especially as we have found by a previous investigation that
it is annexed to narratives purely mythical. Simeon’s real expressions,
say some commentators, were probably these: Would that I might yet
behold the new-born Messiah, even as I now bear this child in my
arms!—a simple wish which was transformed ex eventu by tradition, into
the positive enunciations now read in Luke [430]. But this explanation
is incomplete, for the reason why such stories became current
concerning Jesus, must be shown in the relative position of this
portion of the evangelical narrative, and in the interest of the
primitive Christian legend. As to the former, this scene at the
presentation of Jesus in the temple is obviously parallel with that at
the circumcision of the Baptist, narrated by the same evangelist; for
on both occasions, at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, God is
praised for the birth of a national deliverer, and the future destiny
of the child is prophetically announced, in the one case by the father,
in the other by a devout stranger. That this scene is in the former
instance connected with the circumcision, in the latter with the
presentation in the temple, seems to be accidental; when however the
legend had once, in relation to Jesus, so profusely adorned the
presentation in the temple, the circumcision must be left, as we have
above found it, without embellishment.

As to the second spring in the formation of our narrative, namely, the
interest of the Christian legend, it is easy to conceive how this would
act. He who, as a man, so clearly proved himself to be the Messiah,
must also, it was thought, even as a child have been recognisable in
his true character to an eye rendered acute by the Holy Spirit; he who
at a later period, by his powerful words and deeds, manifested himself
to be the Son of God, must surely, even before he could speak or move
with freedom, have borne the stamp of divinity. Moreover if men, moved
by the Spirit of God, so early pressed Jesus with love and reverence in
their arms, then was the spirit that animated him not an impious one,
as his enemies alleged; and if a holy seer had predicted, along with
the high destiny of Jesus, the conflict which he had to undergo, and
the anguish which his fate would cause his mother, [431] then it was
assuredly no chance, but a divine plan, that led him into the depths of
abasement on the way to his ultimate exaltation.

This view of the narrative is thus countenanced positively by the
nature of the fact,—and negatively by the difficulties attending any
other explanation. One cannot but wonder, therefore, how Schleiermacher
can be influenced against it by an observation which did not prevent
him from taking a similar view of the history of the Baptist’s birth,
namely, that the narrative is too natural to have been fabricated
[432]; and how Neander can argue against it, from exaggerated ideas of
the more imposing traits which the mythus would have substituted for
our narrative. Far from allowing a purification for the mother of
Jesus, and a redemption for himself, to take place in the ordinary
manner, Neander thinks the mythus would have depicted an angelic
appearance, intended to deter Mary or the priest from an observance
inconsistent with the dignity of Jesus. [433] As though even the
Christianity of Paul did not maintain that Christ was born under the
law γενόμενος ὑπὸ νόμον (Gal. iv. 4); how much more then the Judaic
Christianity whence these narratives are derived! As though Jesus
himself had not, agreeably to this view of his position, submitted to
baptism, and according to the Evangelist whose narrative is in
question, without any previous expostulation on the part of the
Baptist! Of more weight is Schleiermacher’s other observation, that
supposing this narrative to be merely a poetical creation, its author
would scarcely have placed by the side of Simeon Anna, of whom he makes
no poetical use, still less would he have characterized her with
minuteness, after designating his principal personage with comparative
negligence. But to represent the dignity of the child Jesus as being
proclaimed by the mouth of two witnesses, and especially to associate a
prophetess with a prophet—this is just the symmetrical grouping that
the legend loves. The detailed description of Anna may have been taken
from a real person who, at the time when our narrative originated, was
yet held in remembrance for her distinguished piety. As to the
Evangelist’s omission to assign her any particular speech, it is to be
observed that her office is to spread abroad the glad news, while that
of Simeon is to welcome Jesus into the temple: hence as the part of the
prophetess was to be performed behind the scenes, her precise words
could not be given. As in a former instance Schleiermacher supposes the
Evangelist to have received his history from the lips of the shepherds,
so here he conceives him to have been indebted to Anna, of whose person
he has so vivid a recollection; Neander approves this opinion—not the
only straw thrown out by Schleiermacher, to which this theologian has
clung in the emergencies of modern criticism.

At this point also, where Luke’s narrative leaves Jesus for a series of
years, there is a concluding sentence on the prosperous growth of the
child (v. 40); a similar sentence occurs at the corresponding period in
the life of the Baptist, and both recall the analogous form of
expression found in the history of Samson (Judg. xiii. 24 f.).

§ 39.

RETROSPECT. DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MATTHEW AND LUKE AS TO THE ORIGINAL
RESIDENCE OF THE PARENTS OF JESUS.

In the foregoing examinations we have called in question the historical
credibility of the Gospel narratives concerning the genealogy, birth,
and childhood of Jesus, on two grounds: first, because the narratives
taken separately contain much that will not bear an historical
interpretation; and secondly, because the parallel narratives of
Matthew and Luke exclude each other, so that it is impossible for both
to be true, and one must necessarily be false; this imputation however
may attach to either, and consequently to both. One of the
contradictions between the two narratives extends from the commencement
of the history of the childhood to the point we have now reached; it
has therefore often come in our way, but we have been unable hitherto
to give it our consideration, because only now that we have completely
reviewed the scenes in which it figures, have we materials enough on
which to found a just estimate of its consequences. We refer to the
divergency that exists between Matthew and Luke, in relation to the
original dwelling-place of the parents of Jesus.

Luke, from the very beginning of his history, gives Nazareth as the
abode of Joseph and Mary; here the angel seeks Mary (i. 26); here we
must suppose Mary’s house οἶκος?, to be situated (i. 56); from hence
the parents of Jesus journey to Bethlehem on account of the census (ii.
4): and hither, when circumstances permit, they return as to their own
city πόλις αὐτῶν (v. 39). Thus in Luke, Nazareth is evidently the
proper residence of the parents of Jesus, and they only visit Bethlehem
for a short time, owing to a casual circumstance.

In Matthew, it is not stated in the first instance where Joseph and
Mary resided. According to ii. 1, Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and
since no extraordinary circumstances are said to have led his parents
thither, it appears as if Matthew supposed them to have been originally
resident in Bethlehem. Here he makes the parents with the child receive
the visit of the magi; then follows the flight into Egypt, on returning
from which Joseph is only deterred from again seeking Judea by a
special divine admonition, which directs him to Nazareth in Galilee
(ii. 22). This last particular renders certain what had before seemed
probable, namely, that Matthew did not with Luke suppose Nazareth, but
Bethlehem, to have been the original dwelling-place of the parents of
Jesus, and that he conceived their final settlement at Nazareth to have
been the result of unforeseen circumstances.

This contradiction is generally glided over without suspicion. The
reason of this lies in the peculiar character of Matthew’s Gospel, a
character on which a modern writer has built the assertion that this
Evangelist does not contradict Luke concerning the original residence
of the parents of Jesus, for he says nothing at all on the subject,
troubling himself as little about topographical as chronological
accuracy. He mentions the later abode of Joseph and Mary, and the
birth-place of Jesus, solely because it was possible to connect with
them Old Testament prophecies; as the abode of the parent of Jesus
prior to his birth furnished no opportunity for a similar quotation,
Matthew has left it entirely unnoticed, an omission which however, in
his style of narration, is no proof that he was ignorant of their
abode, or that he supposed it to have been Bethlehem. [434] But even
admitting that the silence of Matthew on the earlier residence of the
parents of Jesus in Nazareth, and on the peculiar circumstances that
caused Bethlehem to be his birth-place, proves nothing; yet the above
supposition requires that the exchange of Bethlehem for Nazareth should
be so represented as to give some intimation, or at least to leave a
possibility, that we should understand the former to be a merely
temporary abode, and the journey to the latter a return homeward. Such
an intimation would have been given, had Matthew attributed to the
angelic vision, that determined Joseph’s settlement in Nazareth after
his return from Egypt, such communications as the following: Return now
into the land of Israel and into your native city Nazareth, for there
is no further need of your presence in Bethlehem, since the prophecy
that your messianic child should be born in that place is already
fulfilled. But as Matthew is alleged to be generally indifferent about
localities, we will be moderate, and demand no positive intimation from
him, but simply make the negative requisition, that he should not
absolutely exclude the idea, that Nazareth was the original
dwelling-place of the parents of Jesus. This requisition would be met
if, instead of a special cause being assigned for the choice of
Nazareth as a residence, it had been merely said that the parents of
Jesus returned by divine direction into the land of Israel and betook
themselves to Nazareth. It would certainly seem abrupt enough, if
without any preamble Nazareth were all at once named instead of
Bethlehem: of this our narrator was conscious, and for this reason he
has detailed the causes that led to the change (ii. 22). But instead of
doing this, as we have shown that he must have done if had he, with
Luke, known Nazareth to be the original dwelling-place of the parents
of Jesus, his account has precisely the opposite bearing, which
undeniably proves that his supposition was the reverse of Luke’s. For
when Matthew represents Joseph on his return from Egypt as being
prevented from going to Judea solely by his fear of Archelaus, he
ascribes to him an inclination to proceed to that province—an
inclination which is unaccountable if the affair of the census alone
had taken him to Bethlehem, and which is only to be explained by the
supposition that he had formerly dwelt there. On the other hand as
Matthew makes the danger from Archelaus (together with the fulfilment
of a prophecy) the sole cause of the settlement of Joseph and Mary at
Nazareth, he cannot have supposed that this was their original home,
for in that case there would have been an independently decisive cause
which would have rendered any other superfluous.

Thus the difficulty of reconciling Matthew with Luke, in the present
instance, turns upon the impossibility of conceiving how the parents of
Jesus could, on their return from Egypt, have it in contemplation to
proceed a second time to Bethlehem unless this place had formerly been
their home. The efforts of commentators have accordingly been chiefly
applied to the task of finding other reasons for the existence of such
an inclination in Joseph and Mary. Such efforts are of a very early
date. Justin Martyr, holding by Luke, who, while he decidedly states
Nazareth to be the dwelling-place of the parents of Jesus, yet does not
represent Joseph as a complete stranger in Bethlehem (for he makes it
the place from which he lineally sprang), seems to suppose that
Nazareth was the dwelling-place and Bethlehem the birth-place of
Joseph, [435] and Credner thinks that this passage of Justin points out
the source, and presents the reconciliation of the divergent statements
of our two Evangelists. [436] But it is far from presenting a
reconciliation. For as Nazareth is still supposed to be the place which
Joseph had chosen as his home, no reason appears why, on his return
from Egypt, he should all at once desire to exchange his former
residence for his birth-place, especially as, according to Justin
himself, the cause of his former journey to Bethlehem had not been a
plan of settling there, but simply the census—a cause which, after the
flight, no longer existed. Thus the statement of Justin leans to the
side of Luke and does not suffice to bring him into harmony with
Matthew. That it was the source of our two evangelical accounts is
still less credible; for how could the narrative of Matthew, which
mentions neither Nazareth as a dwelling-place, nor the census as the
cause of a journey to Bethlehem, originate in the statement of Justin,
to which these facts are essential? Arguing generally, where on the one
hand, there are two diverging statements, on the other, an insufficient
attempt to combine them, it is certain that the latter is not the
parent and the two former its offspring, but vice versâ. Moreover, in
this department of attempting reconciliations, we have already, in
connection with the genealogies, learned to estimate Justin or his
authorities.

A more thorough attempt at reconciliation is made in the Evangelium de
nativitate Mariæ, and has met with much approval from modern
theologians. According to this apocryphal book, the house of Mary’s
parents was at Nazareth, and although she was brought up in the temple
at Jerusalem and there espoused to Joseph, she returned after this
occurrence to her parents in Galilee. Joseph, on the contrary, was not
only born at Bethlehem, as Justin seems to intimate, but also lived
there, and thither brought home his betrothed. [437] But this mode of
conciliation, unlike the other, is favourable to Matthew and
disadvantageous to Luke. For the census with its attendant
circumstances is left out, and necessarily so, because if Joseph were
at home in Bethlehem, and only went to Nazareth to fetch his bride, the
census could not be represented as the reason why he returned to
Bethlehem, for he would have done so in the ordinary course of things,
after a few days’ absence. Above all, had Bethlehem been his home, he
would not on his arrival have sought an inn where there was no room for
him, but would have taken Mary under his own roof. Hence modern
expositors who wish to avail themselves of the outlet presented by the
apocryphal book, and yet to save the census of Luke from rejection,
maintain that Joseph did indeed dwell, and carry on his trade, in
Bethlehem, but that he possessed no house of his own in that place, and
the census recalling him thither sooner than he had anticipated, he had
not yet provided one. [438] But Luke makes it appear, not only that the
parents of Jesus were not yet settled in Bethlehem, but that they were
not even desirous of settling there; that, on the contrary, it was
their intention to depart after the shortest possible stay. This
opinion supposes great poverty on the part of Joseph and Mary;
Olshausen, on the other hand, prefers enriching them, for the sake of
conciliating the difference in question. He supposes that they had
property both in Bethlehem and Nazareth, and could therefore have
settled in either place, but unknown circumstances inclined them, on
their return from Egypt, to fix upon Bethlehem until the divine warning
came as a preventive. Thus Olshausen declines particularizing the
reason why it appeared desirable to the parents of Jesus to settle in
Bethlehem; but Heydenreich [439] and others have supplied his omission,
by assuming that it must have seemed to them most fitting for him, who
was pre-eminently the Son of David, to be brought up in David’s own
city.

Here, however, theologians would do well to take for their model the
honesty of Neander, and to confess with him that of this intention on
the part of Joseph and Mary to settle at Bethlehem, and of the motives
which induced them to give up the plan, Luke knows nothing, and that
they rest on the authority of Matthew alone. But what reason does
Matthew present for this alleged change of place? The visit of the
magi, the massacre of the infants, visions in dreams—events whose
evidently unhistorical character quite disqualifies them from serving
as proofs of a change of residence on the part of the parents of Jesus.
On the other hand Neander, while confessing that the author of the
first Gospel was probably ignorant of the particular circumstances
which, according to Luke, led to the journey to Bethlehem, and hence
took Bethlehem to be the original residence of the parents of Jesus,
maintains that there may be an essential agreement between the two
accounts though that agreement did not exist in the consciousness of
the writers. [440] But, once more, what cause does Luke assign for the
journey to Bethlehem? The census, which our previous investigations
have shown to be as frail a support for this statement, as the
infanticide and its consequences for that of Matthew. Hence here again
it is not possible by admitting the inacquaintance of the one narrator
with what the other presents to vindicate the statements of both; since
each has against him, not only the ignorance of the other, but the
improbability of his own narrative.

But we must distinguish more exactly the respective aspects and
elements of the two accounts. As, according to the above observations,
the change of residence on the part of the parents of Jesus, is in
Matthew so linked with the unhistorical data of the infanticide and the
flight into Egypt, that without these every cause for the migration
disappears, we turn to Luke’s account, which makes the parents of Jesus
resident in the same place, both after and before the birth of Jesus.
But in Luke, the circumstance of Jesus being born in another place than
where his parents dwelt, is made to depend on an event as unhistorical
as the marvels of Matthew, namely the census. If this be surrendered,
no motive remains that could induce the parents of Jesus to take a
formidable journey at so critical a period for Mary, and in this view
of the case Matthew’s representation seems the more probable one, that
Jesus was born in the home of his parents and not in a strange place.
Hitherto, however, we have only obtained the negative result, that the
evangelical statements, according to which the parents of Jesus lived
at first in another place than that in which they subsequently settled,
and Jesus was born elsewhere than in the home of his parents, are
destitute of any guarantee; we have yet to seek for a positive
conclusion by inquiring what was really the place of his birth.

On this point we are drawn in two opposite directions. In both Gospels
we find Bethlehem stated to be the birth-place of Jesus, and there is,
as we have seen, no impediment to our supposing that it was the
habitual residence of his parents; on the other hand, the two Gospels
again concur in representing Nazareth as the ultimate dwelling-place of
Joseph and his family, and it is only an unsupported statement that
forbids us to regard it as their original residence, and consequently
as the birth-place of Jesus. It would be impossible to decide between
these contradictory probabilities were both equally strong, but as soon
as the slightest inequality between them is discovered, we are
warranted to form a conclusion. Let us first test the opinion, that the
Galilean city Nazareth was the final residence of Jesus. This is not
supported barely by the passages immediately under consideration, in
the 2nd chapters of Matthew and Luke;—it rests on an uninterrupted
series of data drawn from the Gospels and from the earliest church
history. The Galilean, the Nazarene—were the epithets constantly
applied to Jesus. As Jesus of Nazareth he was introduced by Philip to
Nathanael, whose responsive question was, Can any good thing come out
of Nazareth? Nazareth is described, not only as the place where he was
brought up, οὗ ἦν τεθραμμένος (Luke iv. 16 f.), but also as his
country; πατρὶς (Matt. xiii. 34, Mark vi. 1). He was known among the
populace as Jesus of Nazareth (Luke xviii. 37), and invoked under this
name by the demons (Mark i. 24). The inscription on the cross styles
him a Nazarene (John xix. 19), and after his resurrection his apostles
everywhere proclaimed him as Jesus of Nazareth (Acts ii. 22), and
worked miracles in his name (Acts iii. 6). His disciples too were long
called Nazarenes, and it was not until a late period that this name was
exclusively applied to a heretical sect. [441] This appellation proves,
if not that Jesus was born in Nazareth, at least that he resided in
that place for a considerable time; and as, according to a probable
tradition (Luke iv. 16 f. parall.), Jesus, during his public life, paid
but transient visits to Nazareth, this prolonged residence must be
referred to the earlier part of his life, which he passed in the bosom
of his family. Thus his family, at least his parents, must have lived
in Nazareth during his childhood; and if it be admitted that they once
dwelt there, it follows that they dwelt there always, for we have no
historical grounds for supposing a change of residence: so that this
one of the two contradictory propositions has as much certainty as we
can expect, in a fact belonging to so remote and obscure a period.

Neither does the other proposition, however, that Jesus was born in
Bethlehem, rest solely on the statement of our Gospels; it is
sanctioned by an expectation, originating in a prophetic passage, that
the Messiah would be born at Bethlehem (comp. with Matt. ii. 5 f., John
vii. 42). But this is a dangerous support, which they who wish to
retain as historical the Gospel statement, that Jesus was born in
Bethlehem, will do well to renounce. For wherever we find a narrative
which recounts the accomplishment of a long-expected event, a strong
suspicion must arise, that the narrative owes its origin solely to the
pre-existent belief that that event would be accomplished. But our
suspicion is converted into certainty when we find this belief to be
groundless; and this is the case here, for the alleged issue must have
confirmed a false interpretation of a prophetic passage. Thus this
prophetic evidence of the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, deprives the
historical evidence, which lies in the 2nd chapters of Matthew and
Luke, of its value, since the latter seems to be built on the former,
and consequently shares its fall. Any other voucher for this fact is
however sought in vain. Nowhere else in the New Testament is the birth
of Jesus at Bethlehem mentioned; nowhere does he appear in any relation
with his alleged birth-place, or pay it the honour of a visit, which he
yet does not deny to the unworthy Nazareth; nowhere does he appeal to
the fact as a concomitant proof of his messiahship, although he had the
most direct inducements to do so, for many were repelled from him by
his Galilean origin, and defended their prejudice by referring to the
necessity, that the Messiah should come out of Bethlehem, the city of
David (John vii. 42). [442] John does not, it is true, say that these
objections were uttered in the presence of Jesus; [443] but as,
immediately before, he had annexed to a discourse of Jesus a comment of
his own, to the effect that the Holy Ghost was not yet given, so here
he might very suitably have added, in explanation of the doubts
expressed by the people, that they did not yet know that Jesus was born
in Bethlehem. Such an observation will be thought too superficial and
trivial for an apostle like John: thus much however must be admitted;
he had occasion repeatedly to mention the popular notion that Jesus was
a native of Nazareth, and the consequent prejudice against him; had he
then known otherwise, he must have added a corrective remark, if he
wished to avoid leaving the false impression, that he also believed
Jesus to be a Nazarene. As it is, we find Nathanael, John i. 46,
alleging this objection, without having his opinion rectified either
mediately or immediately, for he nowhere learns that the good thing did
not really come out of Nazareth, and the conclusion he is left to draw
is, that even out of Nazareth something good can come. In general, if
Jesus were really born in Bethlehem, though but fortuitously (according
to Luke’s representation), it is incomprehensible, considering the
importance of this fact to the article of his messiahship, that even
his own adherents should always call him the Nazarene, instead of
opposing to this epithet, pronounced by his opponents with polemical
emphasis, the honourable title of the Bethlehemite.

Thus the evangelical statement that Jesus was born at Bethlehem is
destitute of all valid historical evidence; nay, it is contravened by
positive historical facts. We have seen reason to conclude that the
parents of Jesus lived at Nazareth, not only after the birth of Jesus,
but also, as we have no counter evidence, prior to that event, and
that, no credible testimony to the contrary existing, Jesus was
probably not born at any other place than the home of his parents. With
this twofold conclusion, the supposition that Jesus was born at
Bethlehem is irreconcileable: it can therefore cost us no further
effort to decide that Jesus was born, not in Bethlehem, but, as we have
no trustworthy indications that point elsewhere, in all probability at
Nazareth.

The relative position of the two evangelists on this point may be thus
stated. Each of their accounts is partly correct, and partly incorrect:
Luke is right in maintaining the identity of the earlier with the later
residence of the parents of Jesus, and herein Matthew is wrong; again,
Matthew is right in maintaining the identity of the birth-place of
Jesus with the dwelling-place of his parents, and here the error is on
the side of Luke. Further, Luke is entirely correct in making the
parents of Jesus reside in Nazareth before, as well as after, the birth
of Jesus, while Matthew has only half the truth, namely, that they were
established there after his birth; but in the statement that Jesus was
born at Bethlehem both are decidedly wrong. The source of all the error
of their narratives, is the Jewish opinion with which they fell in,
that the Messiah must be born at Bethlehem; the source of all their
truth, is the fact which lay before them, that he always passed for a
Nazarene; finally, the cause of the various admixture of the true and
the false in both, and the preponderance of the latter in Matthew, is
the different position held by the two writers in relation to the above
data. Two particulars were to be reconciled—the historical fact that
Jesus was universally reputed to be a Nazarene, and the prophetic
requisition that, as Messiah, he should be born at Bethlehem. Matthew,
or the legend which he followed, influenced by the ruling tendency to
apply the prophecies, observable in his Gospel, effected the desired
reconciliation in such a manner, that the greatest prominence was given
to Bethlehem, the locality pointed out by the prophet; this was
represented as the original home of the parents of Jesus, and Nazareth
merely as a place of refuge, recommended by a subsequent turn of
events. Luke, on the contrary, more bent on historic detail, either
adopted or created that form of the legend, which attaches the greatest
important to Nazareth, making it the original dwelling-place of the
parents of Jesus, and regarding the sojourn in Bethlehem as a temporary
one, the consequence of a casual occurrence.

Such being the state of the case, no one, we imagine, will be inclined
either with Schleiermacher, [444] to leave the question concerning the
relation of the two narratives to the real facts undecided, or with
Sieffert, [445] to pronounce exclusively in favour of Luke. [446]

CHAPTER V.

THE FIRST VISIT TO THE TEMPLE, AND THE EDUCATION OF JESUS.

§ 40.

JESUS, WHEN TWELVE YEARS OLD, IN THE TEMPLE.

The Gospel of Matthew passes in silence over the entire period from the
return of the parents of Jesus out of Egypt, to the baptism of Jesus by
John: and even Luke has nothing to tell us of the long interval between
the early childhood of Jesus and his maturity, beyond a single
incident—his demeanour on a visit to the temple in his twelfth year
(ii. 41–52). This anecdote, out of the early youth of Jesus is, as Hess
has truly remarked, [447] distinguished from the narratives hitherto
considered, belonging to his childhood, by the circumstance that Jesus
no longer, as in the latter, holds a merely passive position, but
presents an active proof of his high destination; a proof which has
always been especially valued, as indicating the moment in which the
consciousness of that destination was kindled in Jesus. [448]

In his twelfth year, the period at which, according to Jewish usage,
the boy became capable of an independent participation in the sacred
rites, the parents of Jesus, as this narrative informs us, took him for
the first time to the Passover. At the expiration of the feast, the
parents bent their way homewards; that their son was missing gave them
no immediate anxiety, because they supposed him to be among their
travelling companions, and it was not until after they had accomplished
a day’s journey, and in vain sought their son among their kinsfolk and
acquaintance, that they turned back to Jerusalem to look for him there.
This conduct on the part of the parents of Jesus may with reason excite
surprise. It seems inconsistent with the carefulness which it has been
thought incumbent on us to attribute to them, that they should have
allowed the divine child entrusted to their keeping, to remain so long
out of their sight; and hence they have on many sides been accused of
neglect and a dereliction of duty, in the instance before us. [449] It
has been urged, as a general consideration in vindication of Joseph and
Mary, that the greater freedom permitted to the boy is easily
conceivable as part of a liberal method of education; [450] but even
according to our modern ideas, it would seem more than liberal for
parents to let a boy of twelve years remain out of their sight during
so long an interval as our narrative supposes; how far less
reconcileable must it then be with the more rigid views of education
held by the ancients, not excepting the Jews? It is remarked however,
that viewing the case as an extraordinary one, the parents of Jesus
knew their child, and they could therefore very well confide in his
understanding and character, so far as to be in no fear that any danger
would accrue to him from his unusual freedom; [451] but we can perceive
from their subsequent anxiety, that they were not so entirely at ease
on that head. Thus their conduct must be admitted to be such as we
should not have anticipated; but it is not consequently incredible nor
does it suffice to render the entire narrative improbable, for the
parents of Jesus are no saints to us, that we should not impute to them
any fault.

Returned to Jerusalem, they find their son on the third day in the
temple, doubtless in one of the outer halls, in the midst of an
assembly of doctors, engaged in a conversation with them, and exciting
universal astonishment (v. 45 f.). From some indications it would seem
that Jesus held a higher position in the presence of the doctors, than
could belong to a boy of twelve years. The word καθεζόμενον (sitting)
has excited scruples, for according to Jewish records, it was not until
after the death of the Rabbi Gamaliel, an event long subsequent to the
one described in our narrative, that the pupils of the rabbins sat,
they having previously been required to stand [452] when in the school;
but this Jewish tradition is of doubtful authority. [453] It has also
been thought a difficulty, that Jesus does not merely hear the doctors,
but also asks them questions, thus appearing to assume the position of
their teacher. Such is indeed the representation of the apocryphal
Gospels, for in them Jesus, before he is twelve years old, perplexes
all the doctors by his questions, [454] and reveals to his instructor
in the alphabet the mystical significance of the characters; [455]
while at the above visit to the temple he proposes controversial
questions, [456] such as that touching the Messiah’s being at once
David’s Son and Lord (Matt. xxii. 41), and proceeds to throw light on
all departments of knowledge. [457] If the expressions ἐρωτᾷν and
ἀποκρίνεσθαι implied that Jesus played the part of a teacher in this
scene, so unnatural a feature in the evangelical narrative would render
the whole suspicious. [458] But there is nothing to render this
interpretation of the words necessary, for according to Jewish custom,
rabbinical teaching was of such a kind that not only did the masters
interrogate the pupils, but the pupils interrogated the masters, when
they wished for explanations on any point. [459] We may with the more
probability suppose that the writer intended to attribute to Jesus such
questions as suited a boy, because he, apparently not without design,
refers the astonishment of the doctors, not to his questions, but to
that in which he could best show himself in the light of an intelligent
pupil—namely, to his answers. A more formidable difficulty is the
statement, that the boy Jesus sat in the midst of the doctors, ἐν μέσῳ
τῶν διδασκάλων. For we learn from Paul (Acts xxii. 3) the position that
became a pupil, when he says that he was brought up at the feet (παρὰ
τοὺς πόδας) of Gamaliel: it being the custom for the rabbins to be
placed on chairs, while their pupils sat on the ground, [460] and did
not take their places among their masters. It has indeed been thought
that ἐν μέσῳ might be so explained as to signify, either that Jesus sat
between the doctors, who are supposed to have been elevated on chairs,
while Jesus and the other pupils are pictured as sitting on the ground
between them, [461] or merely that he was in the company of doctors,
that is, in the synagogue; [462] but according to the strict sense of
the words, the expression καθέζεσθαι ἐν μέσῳ τινῶν appears to signify,
if not as Schöttgen believes, [463] in majorem Jesu gloriam, a place of
pre-eminent honour, at least a position of equal dignity with that
occupied by the rest. It need only be asked, would it harmonize with
the spirit of our narrative to substitute καθεζόμενον παρὰ τοῦς πόδας
τῶν διδασκάλων for καθ. ἐν μέσω τ. δ.? the answer will certainly be in
the negative, and it will then be inevitable to admit, that our
narrative places Jesus in another relation to the doctors than that of
a learner, though the latter is the only natural one for a boy of
twelve, however highly gifted. For Olshausen’s position, [464]—that in
Jesus nothing was formed from without, by the instrumentality of
another’s wisdom, because this would be inconsistent with the character
of the Messiah, as absolutely self-determined,—contradicts a dogma of
the church which he himself advances, namely, that Jesus in his
manifestation as man, followed the regular course of human development.
For not only is it in the nature of this development to be gradual, but
also, and still more essentially, to be dependent, whether it be mental
or physical, on the interchange of reception and influence. To deny
this in relation to the physical life of Jesus—to say, for example,
that the food which he took did not serve for the nourishment and
growth of his body by real assimilation, but merely furnished occasion
for him to reproduce himself from within, would strike every one as
Docetism; and is the analogous proposition in relation to his spiritual
development, namely, that he appropriated nothing from without, and
used what he heard from others merely as a voice to evoke one truth
after another from the recesses of his own mind—is this anything else
than a more refined Docetism? Truly, if we attempt to form a conception
of the conversation of Jesus with the doctors in the temple according
to this theory, we make anything but a natural scene of it. It is not
to be supposed that he taught, nor properly speaking that he was
taught, but that the discourse of the doctors merely gave an impetus to
his power of teaching himself, and was the occasion for an
ever-brightening light to rise upon him, especially on the subject of
his own destination. But in that case he would certainly have given
utterance to his newly acquired knowledge; so that the position of a
teacher on the part of the boy would return upon us, a position which
Olshausen himself pronounces to be preposterous. At least such an
indirect mode of teaching is involved as Ness subscribes to, when he
supposes that Jesus, even thus early, made the first attempt to combat
the prejudices which swayed in the synagogue, exposing to the doctors,
by means of good-humoured questions and requests for explanation, such
as are willingly permitted to a boy, the weakness of many of their
dogmas. [465] But even such a position on the part of a boy of twelve,
is inconsistent with the true process of human development, through
which it behoved the God-Man himself to pass. Discourse of this kind
from a boy must, we grant, have excited the astonishment of all the
hearers; nevertheless the expression ἐξίσταντο πάντες οἱ ἀκούοντες
αὐτοῦ (v. 47), looks too much like a panegyrical formula. [466]

The narrative proceeds to tell us how the mother of Jesus reproached
her son when she had found him thus, asking him why he had not spared
his parents the anguish of their sorrowful search? To this Jesus
returns an answer which forms the point of the entire narrative; he
asks whether they might not have known that he was to be sought nowhere
else than in the house of his Father, in the temple? (v. 48 f.) One
might be inclined to understand this designation of God as τοῦ πατρὸς
generally, as implying that God was the Father of all men, and only in
this sense the Father of Jesus. But this interpretation is forbidden,
not only by the addition of the pronoun μοῦ, the above sense requiring
ἡμῶν (as in Matt. vi. 9), but still more absolutely by the circumstance
that the parents of Jesus did not understand these words (v. 50), a
decided indication that they must have a special meaning, which can
here be no other than the mystery of the Messiahship of Jesus, who as
Messiah, was υἱὸς θεοῦ in a peculiar sense. But that Jesus in his
twelfth year had already the consciousness of his Messiahship, is a
position which, although it may be consistently adopted from the
orthodox point of view, and although it is not opposed to the regular
human form of the development of Jesus, which even orthodoxy maintains,
we are not here bound to examine. So also the natural explanation,
which retains the above narrative as a history, though void of the
miraculous, and which accordingly supposes the parents of Jesus, owing
to a particular combination of circumstances, to have come even before
his birth to a conviction of his Messiahship, and to have instilled
this conviction into their son from his earliest childhood,—this too
may make it plain how Jesus could be so clear as to his messianic
relation to God; but it can only do so by the hypothesis of an
unprecedented coincidence of extraordinary accidents. We, on the
contrary, who have renounced the previous incidents as historical,
either in the supernatural or the natural sense, are unable to
comprehend how the consciousness of his messianic destination could be
so early developed in Jesus. For though the consciousness of a more
subjective vocation, as that of a poet or an artist, which is dependent
solely on the internal gifts of the individual (gifts which cannot long
remain latent), may possibly be awakened very early; an objective
vocation, in which the conditions of external reality are a chief
co-operator, as the vocation of the statesman, the general, the
reformer of a religion, can hardly be so early evident to the most
highly endowed individual, because for this a knowledge of cotemporary
circumstances would be requisite, which only long observation and
mature experience can confer. Of the latter kind is the vocation of the
Messiah, and if this is implied in the words by which Jesus in his
twelfth year justified his lingering in the temple, he cannot have
uttered the words at that period.

In another point of view also, it is worthy of notice that the parents
of Jesus are said (v. 50) not to have understood the words which he
addressed to them. What did these words signify? That God was his
Father, in whose house it behoved him to be. But that her son would in
a specific sense be called a υἱὸς θεοῦ had been already made known to
Mary by the annunciating angel (Luke i. 32, 35), and that he would have
a peculiar relation to the temple she might infer, both from the above
title, and from the striking reception which he had met with at his
first presentation in the temple, when yet an infant. The parents of
Jesus, or at least Mary, of whom it is repeatedly noticed that she
carefully kept in her heart the extraordinary communications concerning
her son, ought not to have been in the dark a single moment as to the
meaning of his language on this occasion. But even at the presentation
in the temple, we are told that the parents of Jesus marvelled at the
discourse of Simeon (v. 33), which is merely saying in other words that
they did not understand him. And their wonder is not referred to the
declaration of Simeon that their boy would be a cause, not only of the
rising again, but of the fall of many in Israel, and that a sword would
pierce through the heart of his mother (an aspect of his vocation and
destiny on which nothing had previously been communicated to the
parents of Jesus, and at which therefore they might naturally wonder);
for these disclosures are not made by Simeon until after the wonder of
the parents, which is caused only by Simeon’s expressions of joy at the
sight of the Saviour, who would be the glory of Israel, and a light
even to the Gentiles. And here again there is no intimation that the
wonder was excited by the idea that Jesus would bear this relation to
the heathens, which indeed it could not well be, since this more
extended destination of the Messiah had been predicted in the Old
Testament. There remains therefore as a reason for the wonder in
question, merely the fact of the child’s Messiahship, declared by
Simeon; a fact which had been long ago announced to them by angels, and
which was acknowledged by Mary in her song of praise. We have just a
parallel difficulty in the present case, it being as inconceivable that
the parents of Jesus should not understand his allusion to his
messianic character, as that they should wonder at the declaration of
it by Simeon. We must therefore draw this conclusion: if the parents of
Jesus did not understand these expressions of their son when twelve
years old, those earlier communications cannot have happened; or, if
the earlier communications really occurred, the subsequent expressions
of Jesus cannot have remained incomprehensible to them. Having done
away with those earlier incidents as historical, we might content
ourselves with this later want of comprehension, were it not fair to
mistrust the whole of a narrative whose later portions agree so ill
with the preceding. For it is the character, not of an historical
record, but of a marvellous legend, to represent its personages as so
permanently in a state of wonder, that they not only at the first
appearance of the extraordinary, but even at the second, third, tenth
repetition, when one would expect them to be familiarized with it,
continually are astonished and do not understand—obviously with the
view of exalting the more highly the divine impartation by this lasting
incomprehensibleness. So, to draw an example from the later history of
Jesus, the divine decree of his suffering and death is set forth in all
its loftiness in the evangelical narratives by the circumstance, that
even the repeated, explicit disclosures of Jesus on this subject,
remain throughout incomprehensible to the disciples; as here the
mystery of the Messiahship of Jesus is exalted by the circumstance,
that his parents, often as it had been announced to them, at every
fresh word on the subject are anew astonished and do not understand.

The twofold form of conclusion, that the mother of Jesus kept all these
sayings in her heart (v. 51), and that the boy grew in wisdom and
stature, and so forth, we have already recognised as a favourite form
of conclusion and transition in the heroic legend of the Hebrews; in
particular, that which relates to the growth of the boy is almost
verbally parallel with a passage relating to Samuel, as in two former
instances similar expressions appeared to have been borrowed from the
history of Samson. [467]

§ 41

THIS NARRATIVE ALSO MYTHICAL.

Thus here again we must acknowledge the influence of the legend; but as
the main part of the incident is thoroughly natural, we might in this
instance prefer the middle course, and after disengaging the mythical,
seek to preserve a residue of history. We might suppose that the
parents of Jesus really took their son to Jerusalem in his early youth,
and that after having lost sight of him (probably before their
departure), they found him in the temple, where, eager for instruction,
he sat at the feet of the rabbins. When called to account, he declared
that his favourite abode was in the house of God; [468] a sentiment
which rejoiced his parents, and won the approbation of the bystanders.
The rest of the story we might suppose to have been added by the
aggrandizing legend, after Jesus was acknowledged as the Messiah. Here
all the difficulties in our narrative,—the idea of the boy sitting in
the midst of the doctors, his claiming God as his father in a special
sense, and the departure of the parents without their son, would be
rejected; but the journey of Jesus when twelve years old, the eagerness
for knowledge then manifested by him, and his attachment to the temple,
are retained. To these particulars there is nothing to object
negatively, for they contain nothing improbable in itself; but their
historical truth must become doubtful if we can show, positively, a
strong interest of the legend, out of which the entire narrative, and
especially these intrinsically not improbable particulars, might have
arisen.

That in the case of great men who in their riper age have been
distinguished by mental superiority, the very first presaging movements
of their mind are eagerly gleaned, and if they are not to be
ascertained historically, are invented under the guidance of
probability, is well known. In the Hebrew history and legend
especially, we find manifold proofs of this tendency. Thus of Samuel it
is said in the old Testament itself, that even as a boy he received a
divine revelation and the gift of prophecy (1 Sam. iii.), and with
respect to Moses, on whose boyish years the Old Testament narrative is
silent, a subsequent tradition, followed by Josephus and Philo, had
striking proofs to relate of his early development. As in the narrative
before us Jesus shows himself wise beyond his years, so this tradition
attributes a like precocity to Moses; [469] as Jesus, turning away from
the idle tumult of the city in all the excitement of festival time,
finds his favourite entertainment in the temple among the doctors; so
the boy Moses was not attracted by childish sports, but by serious
occupation, and very early it was necessary to give him tutors, whom,
however, like Jesus in his twelfth year, he quickly surpassed. [470]

According to Jewish custom and opinion, the twelfth year formed an
epoch in development to which especial proofs of awakening genius were
the rather attached, because in the twelfth year, as with us in the
fourteenth, the boy was regarded as having outgrown the period of
childhood. [471] Accordingly it was believed of Moses that in his
twelfth year he left the house of his father, to become an independent
organ of the divine revelations. [472] The Old Testament leaves it
uncertain how early the gift of prophecy was imparted to Samuel, but he
was said by a later tradition to have prophesied from his twelfth year;
[473] and in like manner the wise judgments of Solomon and Daniel (1
Kings iii. 23 ff., Susann. 45 ff.) were supposed to have been given
when they were only twelve. [474] If in the case of these Old Testament
heroes, the spirit that impelled them manifested itself according to
common opinion so early as in their twelfth year, it was argued that it
could not have remained longer concealed in Jesus; and if Samuel and
Daniel showed themselves at that age in their later capacity of
divinely inspired seers, Solomon in that of a wise ruler, so Jesus at
the corresponding period in his life must have shown himself in the
character to which he subsequently established his claim, that namely,
of the Son of God and Teacher of Mankind. It is, in fact, the obvious
aim of Luke to pass over no epoch in the early life of Jesus without
surrounding him with divine radiance, with significant prognostics of
the future; in this style he treats his birth, mentions the
circumcision at least emphatically, but above all avails himself of the
presentation in the temple. There yet remained according to Jewish
manners one epoch, the twelfth year, with the first journey to the
passover; how could he do otherwise than, following the legend, adorn
this point in the development of Jesus as we find that he has done in
his narrative? and how could we do otherwise than regard his narrative
as a legendary embellishment of this period in the life of Jesus, [475]
from which we learn nothing of his real development, [476] but merely
something of the exalted notions which were entertained in the
primitive church of the early ripened mind of Jesus?

But how this anecdote can be numbered among mythi is found by some
altogether inconceivable. It bears, thinks Heydenreich, [477] a
thoroughly historical character (this is the very point to be proved),
and the stamp of the highest simplicity (like every popular legend in
its original form); it contains no tincture of the miraculous, wherein
the primary characteristic of a mythus (but not of every mythus) is
held to consist; it is so remote from all embellishment that there is
not the slightest detail of the conversation of Jesus with the doctors
(the legend was satisfied with the dramatic trait, sitting in the midst
of the doctors: as a dictum, v. 49 was alone important, and towards
this the narrator hastens without delay); nay, even the conversation
between Jesus and his mother is only given in a fragmentary aphoristic
manner (there is no trace of an omission); finally, the inventor of a
legend would have made Jesus speak differently to his mother, instead
of putting into his mouth words which might be construed into
irreverence and indifference. In this last observation Heydenreich
agrees with Schleiermacher, who finds in the behaviour of Jesus to his
mother, liable as it is to be misinterpreted, a sure guarantee that the
whole history was not invented to supply something remarkable
concerning Jesus, in connexion with the period at which the holy things
of the temple and the law were first opened to him. [478]

In combating the assertion, that an inventor would scarcely have
attributed to Jesus so much apparent harshness towards his mother, we
need not appeal to the apocryphal Evangelium Thomæ, which makes the boy
Jesus say to his foster-father Joseph: insipientissime fecisti; [479]
for even in the legend or history of the canonical gospels
corresponding traits are to be found. In the narrative of the wedding
at Cana, we find this rough address to his mother: τί ἐμοὶ καὶ σοὶ
γύναι (John ii. 4); and in the account of the visit paid to Jesus by
his mother and brethren, the striking circumstance that he apparently
wishes to take no notice of his relatives (Matt. xii. 46). If these are
real incidents, then the legend had an historical precedent to warrant
the introduction of a similar feature, even into the early youth of
Jesus; if, on the other hand, they are only legends, they are the most
vivid proofs that an inducement as not wanting for the invention of
such features. Where this inducement lay, it is easy to see. The figure
of Jesus would stand in the higher relief from the obscure background
of his contracted family relations, if it were often seen that his
parents were unable to comprehend his elevated mind, and if even he
himself sometimes made them feel his superiority—so far as this could
happen without detriment to his filial obedience, which, it should be
observed, our narrative expressly preserves.

§ 42.

ON THE EXTERNAL LIFE OF JESUS UP TO THE TIME OF HIS PUBLIC APPEARANCE.

What were the external conditions under which Jesus lived, from the
scene just considered up to the time of his public appearance? On this
subject our canonical gospels give scarcely an indication.

First, as to his place of residence, all that we learn explicitly is
this: that both at the beginning and at the end of this obscure period
he dwelt at Nazareth. According to Luke ii. 51, Jesus when twelve years
old returned thither with his parents, and according to Matthew iii.
13, Mark i. 9, he, when thirty years old (comp. Luke iii. 23), came
from thence to be baptized by John. Thus our evangelists appear to
suppose, that Jesus had in the interim resided in Galilee, and, more
particularly, in Nazareth. This supposition, however, does not exclude
journeys, such as those to the feasts in Jerusalem.

The employment of Jesus during the years of his boyhood and youth
seems, from an intimation in our gospels, to have been determined by
the trade of his father, who is there called a τέκτων (Matt. xiii. 55).
This Greek word, used to designate the trade of Joseph, is generally
understood in the sense of faber lignarius (carpenter); [480] a few
only, on mystical grounds, discover in it a faber ferrarius
(blacksmith), aurarius (goldsmith), or cæmentarius (mason). [481] The
works in wood which he executed are held of different magnitude by
different authors: according to Justin and the Evangelium Thomæ, [482]
they were ploughs and yokes, ἄροτρα καὶ ζυγὰ, and in that case he would
be what we call a wheel-wright; according to the Evangelium infantiæ
arabicum, [483] they were doors, milk-vessels, sieves and coffers, and
once Joseph makes a throne for the king; so that here he is represented
partly as a cabinet-maker and partly as a cooper. The Protevangelium
Jacobi, on the other hand, makes him work at buildings, οἰκοδομαῖς,
[484] without doubt as a carpenter. In these labours of the father
Jesus appears to have shared, according to an expression of Mark, who
makes the Nazarenes ask concerning Jesus, not merely as in the parallel
passage of Matthew: Is not this the carpenter’s son? οὐκ οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ
τοῦ τέκτονος υἱός; but Is not this the carpenter? οὐκ οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ
τέκτων (vi. 3). It is true that in replying to the taunt of Celsus that
the teacher of the Christians was a carpenter by trade, τέκτον ἦν τὴν
τέχνην, Origen says, he must have forgotten that in none of the Gospels
received by the churches is Jesus himself called a carpenter, ὅτι
οὐδαμοῦ τῶν ἐν ταῖς ἐκκλησίαις φερομένων εὐαγγελίων τεκτων αὐτὸς ὁ
Ἰησοῦς ἀναγέγραπται. [485] The above passage in Mark has, in fact, the
various reading, ὁ τοῦ τέκτονος υἱός, which Origen must have taken,
unless he be supposed altogether to have overlooked the passage, and
which is preferred by some modern critics. [486] But here Beza has
justly remarked that fortasse mutavit aliquis, existimans, hanc artem
Christi majestati parum convenire; whereas there could hardly be an
interest which would render the contrary alteration desirable. [487]
Moreover Fathers of the Church and apocryphal writings represent Jesus,
in accordance with the more generally accepted reading, as following
the trade of his father. Justin attaches especial importance to the
fact that Jesus made ploughs and yokes or scales, as symbols of active
life and of justice. [488] In the Evangelium infantiæ Arabicum, Jesus
goes about with Joseph to the places where the latter has work, to help
him in such a manner that if Joseph made anything too long or too
short, Jesus, by a touch or by merely stretching out his hand, gave to
the object its right size, an assistance which was very useful to his
foster-father, because, as the apocryphal text naively remarks: nec
admodum peritus erat artis fabrilis. [489]

Apart from these apocryphal descriptions, there are many reasons for
believing that the above intimation as to the youthful employment of
Jesus is correct. In the first place, it accords with the Jewish custom
which prescribed even to one destined to a learned career, or in
general to any spiritual occupation, the acquisition of some
handicraft; thus Paul, the pupil of the rabbins, was also a tent-maker,
σκηνοποιὸς τὴν τέχνην (Acts xviii. 3). Next, as our previous
examinations have shown that we know nothing historical of
extraordinary expectations and plans on the part of the parents of
Jesus in relation to their son, so nothing is more natural than the
supposition that Jesus early practised the trade of his father.
Further, the Christians must have had an interest in denying, rather
than inventing, this opinion as to their Messiah’s youthful occupation,
since it often drew down upon them the ridicule of their opponents.
Thus Celsus, as we have already mentioned, could not abstain from a
reflection on this subject, for which reason Origen will know nothing
of any designation of Jesus as a τέκτων in the New Testament; and every
one knows the scoffing question of Libanius about the carpenter’s son,
a question which seems to have been provided with so striking an
answer, only ex eventu. [490] It may certainly be said in opposition to
this, that the notion of Jesus having been a carpenter, seems to be
founded on a mere inference from the trade of the father as to the
occupation of the son, whereas the latter was just as likely to apply
himself to some other branch of industry; nay, that perhaps the whole
tradition of the carpentry of Joseph and Jesus owes its origin to the
symbolical significance exhibited by Justin. As however the allusion in
our Gospels to the trade of Joseph is very brief and bare, and is
nowhere used allegorically in the New Testament, nor entered into more
minutely; it is not to be contested that he was really a carpenter; but
it must remain uncertain whether Jesus shared in this occupation.

What were the circumstances of Jesus and his parents as to fortune? The
answer to this question has been the object of many dissertations. It
is evident that the ascription of pressing poverty to Jesus, on the
part of orthodox theologians, rested on dogmatical and æsthetic
grounds. On the one hand, they wished to maintain even in this point
the status exinanitionis, and on the other, they wished to depict as
strikingly as possible the contrast between the μορφὴ θεοῦ (form of
God) and the μορφὴ δούλου (form of a servant). That this contrast as
set forth by Paul (Phil. ii. 6, ff.), as well as the expression
ἐπτώχευσε, which this apostle applies to Christ (2 Cor. viii. 9) merely
characterizes the obscure and laborious life to which he submitted
after his heavenly pre-existence, and instead of playing the part of
king which the Jewish imagination attributed to the Messiah, is also to
be regarded as established. [491] The expression of Jesus himself, The
Son of man hath not where to lay his head, ποῦ τὴν κεφαλὴν κλίνῃ (Matt.
viii. 20), may possibly import merely his voluntary renunciation of the
peaceful enjoyment of fortune, for the sake of devoting himself to the
wandering life of the Messiah. There is only one other particular
bearing on the point in question, namely, that Mary presented, as an
offering of purification, doves (Luke ii. 24),—according to Lev. xii.
8, the offering of the poor: which certainly proves that the author of
this information conceived the parents of Jesus to have been in by no
means brilliant circumstances; [492] but what shall assure us that he
also was not induced to make this representation by unhistorical
motives? Meanwhile we are just as far from having tenable ground for
maintaining the contrary proposition, namely, that Jesus possessed
property: at least it is inadmissible to adduce the coat without seam
[493] (John xix. 23), until we shall have inquired more closely what
kind of relation it has to the subject.

§ 43.

THE INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT OF JESUS.

Our information concerning the external life of Jesus during his youth
is very scanty: but we are almost destitute of any concerning his
intellectual development. For the indeterminate phrase, twice occurring
in Luke’s history of the childhood, concerning the increase of his
spiritual strength and his growth in wisdom, tells us no more than we
must necessarily have presupposed without it; while on the expectations
which his parents cherished with respect to him before his birth, and
on the sentiment which his mother especially then expressed, no
conclusion is to be founded, since those expectations and declarations
are themselves unhistorical. The narrative just considered, of the
appearance of Jesus in the temple at twelve years of age, rather gives
us a result—the early and peculiar development of his religious
consciousness,—than an explanation of the causes and conditions by
which this development was favoured. But we at least learn from Luke
ii. 41 (what however is to be of course supposed of pious Israelites),
that the parents of Jesus used to go to Jerusalem every year at the
Passover. We may conjecture, then, that Jesus from his twelfth year
generally accompanied them, and availed himself of this excellent
opportunity, amid the concourse of Jews and Jewish proselytes of all
countries and all opinions, to form his mind, to become acquainted with
the condition of his people and the false principles of the Pharisaic
leaders, and to extend his survey beyond the narrow limits of
Palestine. [494]

Whether or in what degree Jesus received the learned education of a
rabbin, is also left untold in our canonical Gospels. From such
passages as Matt. vii. 29, where it is said that Jesus taught not as
the scribes, οὐχ ὡς οἱ γραμματεῖς, we can only infer that he did not
adopt the method of the doctors of the law, and it does not follow that
he had never enjoyed the education of a scribe (γραμματεὺς). On the
other hand, not only was Jesus called ῥαββὶ and ῥαββουνὶ by his
disciples (Matt. xxvi. 25, 49; Mark ix. 5, xi. 21, xiv. 45; John iv.
31, ix. 2, xi. 8, xx. 16: comp. i. 38, 40, 50), and by supplicating
sufferers (Mark x. 5), but even the pharisaic ἄρχων Nicodemus (John
iii. 2) did not refuse him this title. We cannot, however, conclude
from hence that Jesus had received the scholastic instruction of a
rabbin; [495] for the salutation Rabbi, as also the privilege of
reading in the synagogue (Luke iv. 16 ff.), a particular which has
likewise been appealed to, belonged not only to graduated rabbins, but
to every teacher who had given actual proof of his qualifications.
[496] The enemies of Jesus explicitly assert, and he does not
contradict them, that he had never learned letters: πῶς οὗτος γράμματα
οἶδε μὴ μεμαθηκὼς (John vii. 15); and the Nazarenes are astonished to
find so much wisdom in him, whence we infer that he had not to their
knowledge been a student. These facts cannot be neutralized by the
discourse of Jesus in which he represents himself as the model of a
scribe well instructed unto the kingdom of heaven [497] (Matt. xiii.
52), for the word γραμματεὺς here means a doctor of the law in general,
and not directly a doctor qualified in the schools. Lastly, the
intimate acquaintance with the doctrinal traditions, and the abuses of
the rabbins, which Jesus exhibits, [498] especially in the sermon on
the mount and the anti-pharisaic discourse Matt. xxiii. he might
acquire from the numerous discourses of the Pharisees to the people,
without going through a course of study under them. Thus the data on
our present subject to be found in the Gospels, collectively yield the
result that Jesus did not pass formally through a rabbinical school; on
the other hand, the consideration that it must have been the interest
of the Christian legend to represent Jesus as independent of human
teachers, may induce a doubt with respect to these statements in the
New Testament, and a conjecture that Jesus may not have been so
entirely a stranger to the learned culture of his nation. But from the
absence of authentic information we can arrive at no decision on this
point.

Various hypotheses, more or less independent of the intimations given
in the New Testament, have been advanced both in ancient and modern
times concerning the intellectual development of Jesus: they may be
divided into two principal classes, according to their agreement with
the natural or the supernatural view. The supernatural view of the
person of Jesus requires that he should be the only one of his kind,
independent of all external, human influences, self-taught or rather
taught of God; hence, not only must its advocates determinedly reject
every supposition implying that he borrowed or learned anything, and
consequently place in the most glaring light the difficulties which lay
in the way of the natural development of Jesus; [499] but, the more
surely to exclude every kind of reception, they must also be disposed
to assign as early an appearance as possible to that spontaneity which
we find in Jesus in his mature age. This spontaneous activity is
twofold: it is theoretical and practical. As regards the theoretical
side, comprising judgment and knowledge, the effort to give as early a
date as possible to its manifestation in Jesus, displays itself in the
apocryphal passages which have been already partly cited, and which
describe Jesus as surpassing his teachers long before his twelfth year,
for according to one of them he spoke in his cradle and declared
himself to be the Son of God. [500] The practical side, too, of that
superior order of spontaneity attributed to Jesus in his later years,
namely, the power of working miracles, is attached by the apocryphal
gospels to his earliest childhood and youth. The Evangelium Thomæ opens
with the fifth year of Jesus the story of his miracles, [501] and the
Arabian Evangelium Infantiæ fills the journey into Egypt with miracles
which the mother of Jesus performed by means of the swaddling bands of
her infant, and the water in which he was washed. [502] Some of the
miracles which according to these apocryphal gospels were wrought by
Jesus when in his infancy and boyhood, are analogous to those in the
New Testament—cures and resuscitations of the dead; others are totally
diverse from the ruling type in the canonical Gospels—extremely
revolting retributive miracles, by which every one who opposes the boy
Jesus in any matter whatever is smitten with lameness, or even with
death, or else mere extravagancies, such as the giving of life to
sparrows formed out of mud. [503]

The natural view of the person of Jesus had an opposite interest, which
was also very early manifested both among Jewish and heathen opponents
of Christianity, and which consisted in explaining his appearance
conformably to the laws of causality, by comparing it with prior and
contemporaneous facts to which it had a relation, and thus exhibiting
the conditions on which Jesus depended, and the sources from which he
drew. It is true that in the first centuries of the Christian era, the
whole region of spirituality being a supernatural one for heathens as
well as Jews, the reproach that Jesus owed his wisdom and seemingly
miraculous powers, not to himself or to God, but to a communication
from without, could not usually take the form of an assertion that he
had acquired natural skill and wisdom in the ordinary way of
instruction from others. [504] Instead of the natural and the human,
the unnatural and the demoniacal were opposed to the divine and the
supernatural (comp. Matt xii. 24), and Jesus was accused of working his
miracles by the aid of magic acquired in his youth. This charge was the
most easily attached to the journey of his parents with him into Egypt,
that native land of magic and secret wisdom, and thus we find it both
in Celsus and in the Talmud. The former makes a Jew allege against
Jesus, amongst other things, that he had entered into service for wages
in Egypt, that he had there possessed himself of some magic arts, and
on the strength of these had on his return vaunted himself for a God.
[505] The Talmud gives him a member of the Jewish Sanhedrim as a
teacher, makes him journey to Egypt with this companion, and bring
magic charms from thence into Palestine. [506]

The purely natural explanation of the intellectual development of Jesus
could only become prevalent amid the enlightened culture of modern
times. In working out this explanation, the chief points of difference
are the following: either the character of Jesus is regarded in too
circumscribed a view, as the result of only one among the means of
culture which his times afforded, or more comprehensively, as the
result of all these combined; again, in tracing this external
influence, either the internal gifts and self-determination of Jesus
are adequately considered, or they are not.

In any case, the basis of the intellectual development of Jesus was
furnished by the sacred writings of his people, of which the discourses
preserved to us in the Gospels attest his zealous and profound study.
His Messianic ideas seem to have been formed chiefly on Isaiah and
Daniel: spiritual religiousness and elevation above the prejudices of
Jewish nationality were impressively shadowed forth in the prophetic
writings generally, together with the Psalms.

Next among the influences affecting mental cultivation in the native
country of Jesus, must be reckoned the three sects under which the
spiritual life of his fellow-countrymen may be classified. Among these,
the Pharisees, whom Jesus at a later period so strenuously combated,
can apparently have had only a negative influence over him; yet along
with their fondness for tradition and legal pedantry, their
sanctimoniousness and hypocrisy, by which Jesus was repelled from them,
we must remember their belief in angels and in immortality, and their
constant admission of a progressive development of the Jewish religion
after Moses, which were so many points of union between them and Jesus.
Still as these tenets were only peculiar to the Pharisees in
contradistinction to the Sadducees, and, for the rest, were common to
all orthodox Jews, we abide by the opinion that the influence of the
Pharisaic sect on the development of Jesus was essentially negative.

In the discourses of Jesus Sadduceeism is less controverted, nay, he
agrees with it in rejecting the Pharisaic traditions and hypocrisy;
hence a few of the learned have wished to find him a school in this
sect. [507] But the merely negative agreement against the errors of the
Pharisees,—an agreement which, moreover, proceeded from quite another
principle in Jesus than in the Sadducees,—is more than counterbalanced
by the contrast which their religious indifference, their unbelief in
immortality and in spiritual existences, formed with the disposition of
Jesus, and his manner of viewing the world. That the controversy with
the Sadducees is not prominent in the Gospels, may be very simply
explained by the fact that their sect had very slight influence on the
circle with which Jesus was immediately connected, the adherents of
Sadduceeism belonging to the higher ranks alone. [508]

Concerning one only of the then existing Jewish sects can the question
seriously arise, whether we ought not to ascribe to it a positive
influence on the development and appearance of Jesus—the sect, namely,
of the Essenes. [509] In the last century the derivation of
Christianity from Essenism was very much in vogue; not only English
deists, and among the Germans, Bahrdt and Venturini, but even
theologians, such as Stäudlin, embraced the idea. [510] In the days of
freemasonry and secret orders, there was a disposition to transfer
their character to primitive Christianity. The concealment of an Essene
lodge appeared especially adapted to explain the sudden disappearance
of Jesus after the brilliant scenes of his infancy and boyhood, and
again after his restoration to life. Besides the forerunner John, the
two men on the Mount of Transfiguration, and the angels clothed in
white at the grave, and on the Mount of Ascension, were regarded as
members of the Essene brotherhood, and many cures of Jesus and the
Apostles were referred to the medical traditions of the Essenes. Apart,
however, from these fancies of a bygone age, there are really some
essential characteristics which seem to speak in favour of an intimate
relation between Essenism and Christianity. The most conspicuous as
such are the prohibition of oaths, and the community of goods: with the
former was connected fidelity, peaceableness, obedience to every
constituted authority; with the latter, contempt of riches, and the
custom of travelling without provisions. These and other features, such
as the sacred meal partaken in common, the rejection of sanguinary
sacrifices and of slavery, constitute so strong a resemblance between
Essenism and Christianity, that even so early a writer as Eusebius
mistook the Therapeutæ, a sect allied to the Essenes, for Christians.
[511] But there are very essential dissimilarities which must not be
overlooked. Leaving out of consideration the contempt of marriage,
ὑπεροψία γάμου, since Josephus ascribes it to a part only of the
Essenes; the asceticism, the punctilious observance of the Sabbath, the
purifications, and other superstitious usages of this sect, their
retention of the names of the angels, the mystery which they affected,
and their contracted, exclusive devotion to their order, are so
foreign, nay so directly opposed to the spirit of Jesus, that,
especially as the Essenes are nowhere mentioned in the New Testament,
the aid which this sect also contributed to the development of Jesus,
must be limited to the uncertain influence which might be exercised
over him by occasional intercourse with Essenes. [512]

Did other elements than such as were merely Jewish, or at least
confined to Palestine, operate upon Jesus? Of the heathens settled in
Galilee of the Gentiles, Γαλιλαία τῶν ἐθνῶν, there was hardly much to
be learned beyond patience under frequent intercourse with them. On the
other hand, at the feasts in Jerusalem, not only foreign Jews, some of
whom, as for example the Alexandrian and Cyrenian Jews, had synagogues
there (Acts vi. 9), but also devout heathens were to be met with (John
xii. 20); and that intercourse with these had some influence in
extending the intellectual horizon of Jesus, and spiritualizing his
opinions, has, as we have already intimated, all historical
probability. [513]

But why do we, in the absence of certain information, laboriously seek
after uncertain traces of an influence which cotemporary means of
development may have exercised on Jesus? and yet more, why, on the
other side, are these labours so anxiously repudiated? Whatever amount
of intellectual material may be collected, the spark by which genius
kindles it, and fuses its various elements into a consistent whole, is
neither easier to explain nor reduced in value. Thus it is with Jesus.
Allow him to have exhausted the means of development which his age
afforded: a comprehensive faculty of reception is with great men ever
the reverse side of their powerful originality; allow him to have owed
far more to Essenism and Alexandrianism, and whatever other schools and
tendencies existed, than we, in our uncertainty, are in a condition to
prove:—still, for the reformation of a world these elements were all
too little; the leaven necessary for this he must obtain from the depth
of his own mind. [514]

But we have not yet spoken of an appearance to which our Gospels assign
a most important influence in developing the activity of Jesus—that of
John the Baptist. As his ministry is first noticed in the Gospels in
connexion with the baptism and public appearance of Jesus, our inquiry
concerning him, and his relation to Jesus, must open the second part.

SECOND PART.

HISTORY OF THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS.

CHAPTER I.

RELATIONS BETWEEN JESUS AND JOHN THE BAPTIST.

§ 44.

CHRONOLOGICAL RELATIONS BETWEEN JOHN AND JESUS.

For the ministry of John the Baptist, mentioned in all the Gospels, the
second and fourth evangelists fix no epoch; the first gives us an
inexact one; the third, one apparently precise. According to Matt. iii.
1, John appeared as a preacher of repentance, in those days, ἐν ταῖς
ἡμέραις ἐκείναις, that is, if we interpret strictly this reference to
the previous narrative, about the time when the parents of Jesus
settled at Nazareth, and when Jesus was yet a child. We are told,
however, in the context, that Jesus came to John for baptism; hence
between the first appearance of the Baptist, which was cotemporary with
the childhood of Jesus, and the period at which the latter was
baptized, we must intercalate a number of years, during which Jesus
might have become sufficiently matured to partake of John’s baptism.
But Matthew’s description of the person and work of the Baptist is so
concise, the office attributed to him is so little independent, so
entirely subservient to that of Jesus, that it was certainly not the
intention of the evangelist to assign a long series of years to his
single ministry. His meaning incontestably is, that John’s short career
early attained its goal in the baptism of Jesus.

It being thus inadmissible to suppose between the appearance of John
and the baptism of Jesus, that is, between verses 12 and 13 of the 3rd
chapter of Matthew, the long interval which is in every case
indispensable, nothing remains but to insert it between the close of
the second and the beginning of the third chapter, namely, between the
settlement of the parents of Jesus at Nazareth and the appearance of
the Baptist. To this end we may presume, with Paulus, that Matthew has
here introduced a fragment from a history of the Baptist, narrating
many particulars of his life immediately preceding his public agency,
and very properly proceeding with the words, in those days, ἐν ταῖς
ἡμέραις ἐκείναις, which connecting phrase Matthew, although he omitted
that to which it referred, has nevertheless retained [515]; or we may,
with Süskind, apply the words, not to the settlement, but to the
subsequent residence of Jesus at Nazareth; [516] or better still, ἐν
ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις, like the corresponding Hebrew expression, ‏בַּיָמִים
הַהֵם‎ e.g., Exod. ii. 11, is probably to be interpreted as relating
indeed to the establishment at Nazareth, but so that an event happening
thirty years afterwards may yet be said, speaking indefinitely, to
occur in those days. [517] In neither case do we learn from Matthew
concerning the time of John’s appearance more than the very vague
information, that it took place in the interval between the infancy and
manhood of Jesus.

Luke determines the date of John’s appearance by various synchronisms,
placing it in the time of Pilate’s government in Judea; in the
sovereignty of Herod (Antipas), of Philip and of Lysanias over the
other divisions of Palestine; in the high priesthood of Annas and
Caiaphas; and, moreover, precisely in the 15th year of the reign of
Tiberius, which, reckoning from the death of Augustus, corresponds with
the year 28–29 of our era [518] (iii. 1, 2). With this last and closest
demarcation of time all the foregoing less precise ones agree. Even
that which makes Annas high priest together with Caiaphas appears
correct, if we consider the peculiar influence which, according to John
xviii. 13, Acts iv. 6, that ex-high priest retained, even when deposed,
especially after the assumption of office by his son-in-law, Caiaphas.

A single exception occurs in the statement about Lysanias, whom Luke
makes cotemporary with Antipas and Philip as tetrarch of Abilene.
Josephus, it is true, speaks of an Ἀβίλα ἡ Λυσανίου, and mentions a
Lysanias as governor of Chalcis in Lebanon, near to which lay the
territory of Abila; so that the same Lysanias was probably master of
the latter. But this Lysanias was, at the instigation of Cleopatra, put
to death 34 years before the birth of Christ, and a second Lysanias is
not mentioned either by Josephus or by any other writer on the period
in question. [519] Thus, not only is the time of his government earlier
by 60 years than the 15th year of Tiberius, but it is also at issue
with the other dates associated with it by Luke. Hence it has been
conjectured that Luke here speaks of a younger Lysanias, the descendant
of the earlier one, who possessed Abilene under Tiberius, but who,
being less famous, is not noticed by Josephus. [520] We cannot indeed
prove what Süskind demands for the refutation of this hypothesis,
namely, that had such a younger Lysanias existed, Josephus must have
mentioned him; yet that he had more than one inducement to do so,
Paulus has satisfactorily shown. Especially, when in relation to the
times of the first and second Agrippa he designates Abila, ἡ Λυσανίου,
he must have been reminded that he had only treated of the elder
Lysanias, and not at all of the younger, from whom, as the later ruler,
the country must at that time have derived its second appellation.
[521] If, according to this, the younger Lysanias is but an historic
fiction, the proposed alternative is but a philological one. [522] For
when it is said in the first place: Φιλίππου — τετραρχοῦντος τῆς
Ἰτουραίας, κ.τ.λ., and when it follows: καὶ Λυσανίου τῆς Ἀβιληνῆς
τετραρχοῦντος: we cannot possibly understand from this, that Philip
reigned also over the Abilene of Lysanias. For in that case the word
τετραρχοῦντος ought not to have been repeated, [523] and τῆς ought to
have been placed before Lysanias, if the author wished to avoid
misconstruction. The conclusion is therefore inevitable that the writer
himself erred, and, from the circumstance that Abilene, even in recent
times, was called, after the last ruler of the former dynasty, ἡ
Λυσανίου, drew the inference that a monarch of that name was still
existing; while, in fact, Abilene either belonged to Philip, or was
immediately subject to the Romans. [524]

The above chronological notation relates directly to John the Baptist
alone; a similar one is wanting when Luke begins farther on (v. 21 ff.)
to speak of Jesus. Of him it is merely said that he was about thirty
years of age, ὡσεὶ ἐτῶν τριάκοντα, on his public appearance
(ἀρχόμενος), but no date is given; while, in the case of John, there is
a contrary omission. Thus even if John commenced his ministry in the
15th year of Tiberius, we cannot thence gather anything as to the time
when Jesus commenced his, as it is nowhere said how long John had been
baptizing when Jesus came to him on the Jordan; while, on the other
hand, although we know that Jesus, at his baptism, was about 30 years
old, this does not help us to ascertain the age of John when he entered
on his ministry as Baptist. Remembering, however, Luke i. 26, according
to which John was just half a year older than Jesus, and calling to our
aid the fact that Jewish usage would scarcely permit the exercise of
public functions before the thirtieth year, we might infer that the
Baptist could only have appeared half a year before the arrival of
Jesus on the banks of the Jordan, since he would only so much earlier
have attained the requisite age. But no express law forbade a public
appearance previous to the thirtieth year; and it has been justly
questioned whether we can apply to the freer office of a Prophet a
restriction which concerned the Priests and Levites, for whom the
thirtieth year was fixed for their entrance on regular service [525]
(Num. iv. 3, 47. Compare besides 2 Chron. xxxi. 17, where the 20th year
is named). This then would not hinder us from placing the appearance of
John considerably prior to that of Jesus, even presupposing the averred
relation between their ages. Hardly, however, could this be the
intention of the Evangelist. For to ascertain so carefully the date of
the Forerunner’s appearance, and leave that of the Messiah himself
undetermined, would be too great an oversight, [526] and we cannot but
suppose that his design, in the particulars he gives concerning John,
was to fix the time for the appearance of Jesus. To agree with this
purpose, he must have understood that Jesus came to the banks of the
Jordan and began to teach, shortly after the appearance of John. [527]
For that the above chronological determination was originally merely
the introduction to a document concerning John, quoted by Luke, is
improbable, since its exactness corresponds with the style of him who
had perfect understanding of all things from the very first,
παρηκολουθηκότι ἄνωθεν πᾶσιν ἀκριβῶς, and who sought to determine, in
like manner, the epoch of the Messiah’s birth.

It is not easy, however, to imagine, in accordance with this statement,
that John was by so little the predecessor of Jesus, nor is it without
reason that the improbability of his having had so short an agency is
maintained. For he had a considerable number of disciples, whom he not
only baptized, but taught (Luke xi. 1), and he left behind a party of
his peculiar followers (Acts xviii. 25, xix. 3), all which could hardly
be the work of a few months. There needed time, it has been observed,
for the Baptist to become so well known, that people would undertake a
journey to him in the wilderness; there needed time for his doctrine to
be comprehended, time for it to gain a footing and establish itself,
especially as it clashed with the current Jewish ideas; in a word, the
deep and lasting veneration in which John was held by his nation,
according to Josephus [528] as well as the evangelists, could not have
been so hastily won. [529]

But the foregoing considerations, although they demand, in general, a
longer agency for the Baptist, do not prove that the evangelists err in
placing the commencement of his ministry shortly before that of Jesus,
since they might suppose the required prolongation as a sequel, instead
of an introduction, to the appearance of Jesus. Such a prolongation of
the Baptist’s ministry, however, is not to be found, at least in the
first two Gospels; for not only do these contain no details concerning
John, after the baptism of Jesus, except his sending two disciples
(Matt. xi.), which is represented as a consequence of his imprisonment;
but we gather from Matt. iv. 12, Mark i. 14, that during or shortly
after the forty days’ abode of Jesus in the wilderness, the Baptist was
arrested, and thereupon Jesus went into Galilee, and entered on his
public career. Luke, it is true (iv. 14), does not mention the
imprisonment of John as the cause of the appearance of Jesus in
Galilee, and he seems to regard the commission of the two disciples as
occurring while John was at large (vii. 18 ff.); and the fourth
Evangelist testifies yet more decisively against the notion that John
was arrested so soon after the baptism of Jesus; for in chap. iii. 24,
it is expressly stated, that John was actively engaged in his ministry
after the first passover, attended by Jesus during His public life. But
on the one hand, as it appears from Luke ix. 9; Matt. xiv. 1 ff.; Mark
xiv. 16, that John was put to death long before Jesus, the continuance
of his agency after the rise of the latter could not be very protracted
(Luke ix. 9; Matt. xiv. 1 ff.; Mark xiv. 16); and on the other, that
which may be added to the agency of John after the appearance of Jesus,
will not make amends for that which is subtracted from it before that
epoch. For, apart from the fact implied by the fourth Evangelist (i.
35), that the Baptist had formed a definite circle of familiar
disciples before the appearance of Jesus, it would be difficult to
account for the firm footing acquired by his school, if he had laboured
only a few months, to be, at their close, eclipsed by Jesus.

There is yet one resource, namely, to separate the baptism of Jesus
from the commencement of his ministry, and to say: It was indeed after
the first half-year of John’s agency that Jesus was so attracted by his
fame, as to become a candidate for his baptism; but for some time
subsequently, he either remained among the followers of the Baptist, or
went again into retirement, and did not present himself independently
until a considerable interval had elapsed. By this means we should
obtain the requisite extension of John’s ministry prior to the more
brilliant career of Jesus, without impugning the apparent statement of
our evangelists that the baptism of Jesus followed close upon the
public appearance of John. But the idea of a long interim, between the
baptism of Jesus and the commencement of his ministry, is utterly
foreign to the New Testament writers. For that they regard the baptism
of Jesus as his consecration to the Messianic office, is proved by the
accompanying descent of the spirit and the voice from heaven; the only
pause which they allow to intervene, is the six weeks’ fast in the
wilderness, immediately after which, according to Luke, or after the
apparently cotemporary arrest of the Baptist, according to Matthew and
Mark, Jesus appears in Galilee. Luke, in particular, by designating
(iii. 23) the baptism of Jesus as his ἄρχεσθαι, his assumption of
office, and by dating the intercourse of Jesus with his disciples from
the βάπτισμα Ἰωάννου (Acts i. 22), evinces his persuasion that the
baptism and public manifestation of Jesus were identical.

Thus the gospel narrative is an obstacle to the adoption of the two
most plausible expedients for the prolongation of John’s ministry,
viz., that Jesus presented himself for baptism later, or that his
public appearance was retarded longer after his baptism, than has been
generally inferred. We are not, however, compelled to renounce either
of these suppositions, if we can show that the New Testament writers
might have been led to their point of view even without historical
grounds. A sufficient motive lies close at hand, and is implied in the
foregoing observations. Let the Baptist once be considered, as was the
case in the Christian Church (Acts xix. 4), not a person of independent
significance, but simply a Forerunner of the Christ; and the
imagination would not linger with the mere Precursor, but would hasten
forward to the object at which he pointed. Yet more obvious is the
interest which primitive Christian tradition must have had in
excluding, whatever might have been the fact, any interval between the
baptism of Jesus and the beginning of his public course. For to allow
that Jesus, by his submission to John’s baptism, declared himself his
disciple, and remained in that relation for any length of time, was
offensive to the religious sentiment of the new church, which desired a
Founder instructed by God, and not by man: another turn, therefore,
would soon be given to the facts, and the baptism of Jesus would be
held to signify, not his initiation into the school of John, but a
consecration to his independent office. Thus the diverging testimony of
the evangelists does not preclude our adopting the conclusion to which
the nature of the case leads us; viz., that the Baptist had been long
labouring, anterior to the appearance of Jesus.

If, in addition to this, we accept the statement of Luke (i. 26 and
iii. 23), that Jesus, being only half a year younger than John, was
about in his thirtieth year at his appearance, we must suppose that
John was in his twentieth year when he began his ministry. There is, as
we have seen, no express law against so early an exercise of the
prophetic office; neither do I, so decidedly as Cludius, [530] hold it
improbable that so young a preacher of repentance should make an
impression, or even that he should be taken for a prophet of the olden
time—an Elias; I will only appeal to the ordinary course of things as a
sanction for presuming, that one who entered so much earlier upon the
scene of action was proportionately older, especially when the
principles and spirit of his teaching tell so plainly of a mature age
as do the discourses of John. There are exceptions to this rule; but
the statement of Luke (i. 26), that John was only six months older than
Jesus, is insufficient to establish one in this instance, as it accords
with the interest of the poetical legend, and must therefore be
renounced for the slightest improbability.

The result then of our critique on the chronological data Luke iii. 1,
2, comp. 23 and i. 26, is this: if Jesus, as Luke seems to understand,
appeared in the fifteenth year of Tiberius, the appearance of John
occurred, not in the same year, but earlier; and if Jesus was in his
thirtieth year when he began his ministry, the Baptist, so much his
predecessor, could hardly be but six months his senior.

§ 45.

APPEARANCE AND DESIGN OF THE BAPTIST. HIS PERSONAL RELATIONS WITH
JESUS.

John, a Nazarite, according to our authorities (Matt. iii. 4, ix. 14,
xi. 18; Luke i. 15), and in the opinion of several theologians, [531]
an Essene, is said by Luke (iii. 2) to have been summoned to his public
work by the word of God ῥῆμα Θεοῦ, which came to him in the wilderness.
Not possessing the Baptist’s own declaration, we cannot accept as
complete the dilemma stated by Paulus, [532] when he says, that we know
not whether John himself interpreted some external or internal fact as
a divine call, or whether he received a summons from another
individual; and we must add as a third possibility, that his followers
sought to dignify the vocation of their Teacher by an expression which
recalls to mind the ancient Prophets.

While from the account of Luke it appears that the divine call came to
John in the wilderness, ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ, but that for the purpose of
teaching and baptizing he resorted to the country about Jordan,
περίχωρος τοῦ Ἰορδάνου (ver. 3); Matthew (iii. ff.) makes the
wilderness of Judea the scene of his labours, as if the Jordan in which
he baptized flowed through that wilderness. It is true that, according
to Josephus, the Jordan before emptying itself into the Dead Sea
traverses a great wilderness, πολλὴν ἐρημίαν, [533] but this was not
the wilderness of Judea, which lay farther south. [534] Hence it has
been supposed that Matthew, misled by his application of the prophecy,
the voice of one crying in the wilderness, φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ, to
John, who issued from the wilderness of Judea, ἔρημος τῆς Ἰουδαίας,
placed there his labours as a preacher of repentance and a baptizer,
although their true scene was the blooming valley of the Jordan. [535]
In the course of Luke’s narrative, however, this evangelist ceases to
intimate that John forsook the wilderness after receiving his call, for
on the occasion of John’s message to Jesus, he makes the latter ask,
Whom went ye out into the wilderness to see? Τί ἐξεληλύθατε εἰς τὴν
ἔρημον θεάσασθαι (vii. 24). Now as the valley of the Jordan in the
vicinity of the Dead Sea was in fact a barren plain, the narrow margin
of the river excepted, no greater mistake may belong to Matthew than
that of specifying the wilderness as the ἔρημος τῆς Ἰουδαίας; and even
that may be explained away by the supposition, either that John, as he
alternately preached and baptized, passed from the wilderness of Judea
to the borders of the Jordan, [536] or that the waste tract through
which that river flowed, being a continuation of the wilderness of
Judea, retained the same name. [537]

The baptism of John could scarcely have been derived from the baptism
of proselytes, [538] for this rite was unquestionably posterior to the
rise of Christianity. It was more analogous to the religious
lustrations in practice amongst the Jews, especially the Essenes, and
was apparently founded chiefly on certain expressions used by several
of the prophets in a figurative sense, but afterwards understood
literally. According to these expressions, God requires from the
Israelitish people, as a condition of their restoration to his favour,
a washing and purification from their iniquity, and he promises that he
will himself cleanse them with water (Isaiah i. 16, Ez. xxxvi. 25,
comp. Jer. ii. 22). Add to this the Jewish notion that the Messiah
would not appear with his kingdom until the Israelites repented, [539]
and we have the combination necessary for the belief that an ablution,
symbolical of conversion and forgiveness of sins, must precede the
advent of the Messiah.

Our accounts are not unanimous as to the signification of John’s
baptism. They all, it is true, agree in stating repentance, μετάνοια,
to be one of its essential requirements; for even what Josephus says of
the Baptist, that he admonished the Jews, practising virtue, just
towards each other, and devout towards God, to come to his baptism,
ἀρετὴν ἐπασκοῦντας, καὶ τῇ πρὸς ἀλλήλους δικαιοσύνῃ καὶ πρὸς τὸν Θεὸν
εὐσεβεία χρωμένους βαπτισμῷ συνιέναι, [540] has the same sense under a
Greek form. Mark and Luke, however, while designating the baptism of
John, βάπτισμα μετανοίας, add, εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν (i. 4, iii. 3).
Matthew has not the same addition; but he, with Mark, describes the
baptized as confessing their sins, ἐξομολογοὺμενοι τὰς ἁμαρτίας αὐτῶν
(iii. 6). Josephus, on the other hand, appears in direct contradiction
to them, when he gives it as the opinion of the Baptist, that baptism
is pleasing to God, not when we ask pardon for some transgressions, but
when we purify the body, after having first purified the mind by
righteousness, οὕτω γὰρ καὶ τὴν βάπτισιν ἀποδεκτὴν αὐτῷ (τῷ Θεῷ)
φανεῖσθαι, μὴ ἐπί τίνων ἁμαρτάδων παραιτήσει χρωμένων, ἀλλ’ ἐφ’ ἁγνείᾳ
τοῦ σώματος, ἄτε δὴ, καὶ τῆς ψυχῆς δικαιοσύνῃ προεκκεκαθαρμένης. We
might here be led to the supposition that the words for the remission
of sins, εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν, as in Acts ii. 38, and other passages,
was commonly used in relation to Christian baptism, and was thence
transferred unhistorically to that of John; but as in the passages
quoted from Ezekiel the washing typified not only reformation but
forgiveness, the probabilities are in favour of the evangelical
statement. Moreover, it is possible to reconcile Josephus and the
Evangelists, by understanding the words of the former to mean that the
baptism of John was intended to effect a purification, not from
particular or merely Levitical transgressions, but of the entire man,
not immediately and mysteriously through the agency of water, but by
means of the moral acts of reformation. [541]

The several accounts concerning John are farther at variance, as to the
relation in which they place his baptism to the kingdom of heaven,
βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν. According to Matthew, the concise purport of the
appeal with which he accompanied his baptism was, Repent, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand, μετανοεῖτε’ ἤγγικε γὰρ ἡ βασιλεία τῶν
οὐρανῶν (iii. 2); according to Luke, the Baptist in the first instance
mentions only repentance and remission of sins, but no kingdom of
heaven; and it is the conjecture of the people, that he might be the
Messiah, by which he is first led to direct them to one who was coming
after him (iii. 15 ff.). In Josephus, there is no trace of a relation
between the ministry of John and the Messianic idea. Yet we must not
therefore conclude that the Baptist himself recognized no such
relation, and that its only source was the Christian legend. For the
baptism of John, waiving the opinion that it was derived from the
baptism of proselytes, is not quite explicable without a reference to
the above-mentioned expiatory lustrations of the people—lustrations
which were to usher in the times of the Messiah; moreover, the
appearance of Jesus is made more comprehensible by the supposition,
that John had introduced the idea of the proximity of the Messiah’s
kingdom. That Josephus should keep back the Messianic aspect of the
fact, is in accordance with his general practice, which is explained by
the position of his people with respect to the Romans. Besides, in the
expression, to assemble for baptism, βαπτισμῷ συνιέναι, in his mention
of popular assemblages, συστρέφεσθαι, and in the fear of Antipas lest
John should excite a revolt, ἀπόστασις there lies an intimation of
precisely such a religious and political movement as the hope of the
Messiah was calculated to produce. That the Baptist should so
distinctly foretell the immediate appearance of the Messiah’s kingdom
must create surprise, and (Luke’s reference to a divine call and
revelation being held unsatisfactory) might lead to the supposition
that the Christian narrator, believing that the true Messiah was
actually manifested in the person of Jesus, the cotemporary of John,
gave to the language of the latter a definiteness which did not belong
to it originally; and while the Baptist merely said, consonantly with
the Jewish notion already mentioned: Repent, that the kingdom of heaven
may come, μετανοεῖτε, ἵνα ἔλθῃ ἡ βας. τ. οὐρ., a later edition of his
words gave γὰρ (for) instead of ἵνα (that). But such a supposition is
needless. In those times of commotion, John might easily believe that
he discerned signs, which certified to him the proximity of the
Messiah’s kingdom; the exact degree of its proximity he left undecided.

According to the Evangelists, the coming of the kingdom of heaven,
βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν, was associated by John with a Messianic
individual to whom he ascribed, in distinction from his own baptism
with water, a baptism with the Holy Ghost and with fire, βαπτίζειν
πνεύματι ἁγίῳ καὶ πυρὶ (Matt. iii. 11 parall.), the outpouring of the
Holy Spirit being regarded as a leading feature of the Messianic times
(Joel ii. 28; Acts ii. 16 ff.). Of this personage he farther predicted,
in imagery akin to that used by the prophets on the same subject, that
he would winnow the people as wheat (Mal. iii. 2, 3; Zech. xiii. 9).
The Synoptical Gospels state the case as if John expressly understood
this Messianic individual to be Jesus of Nazareth. According to Luke,
indeed, the mothers of these two men were cousins, and aware of the
destination of their sons. The Baptist while yet unborn acknowledged
the divinity of Jesus, and all the circumstances imply that both were
early acquainted with their relative position, predetermined by a
heavenly communication. Matthew, it is true, says nothing of such a
family connexion between John and Jesus; but when the latter presents
himself for baptism, he puts into the mouth of John words which seem to
presuppose an earlier acquaintance. His expression of astonishment that
Jesus should come to him for baptism, when he had need to be baptized
of Jesus, could only arise from a previous knowledge or instantaneous
revelation of his character. Of the latter there is no intimation; for
the first visible sign of the Messiahship of Jesus did not occur till
afterwards. While in the first and third Gospels (in the second, the
facts are so epitomized that the writer’s view on the subject is not
evident), John and Jesus seem to have been no strangers to each other
prior to the baptism; in the fourth, the Baptist pointedly asserts that
he knew not Jesus before the heavenly appearance, which, according to
the Synoptical Gospels, was coincident with his baptism (i. 31, 33).
Simply considered, this looks like a contradiction. By Luke, the
previous acquaintance of the two is stated objectively, as an external
matter of fact; by Matthew, it is betrayed in the involuntary
confession of the astonished Baptist; in the fourth Gospel, on the
contrary, their previous unacquaintance is attested subjectively, by
his premeditated assertion. It was not, therefore, a very far-fetched
idea of the Wolfenbüttel fragmentist, to put down the contradiction to
the account of John and Jesus, and to presume that they had in fact
long known and consulted each other, but that in public (in order
better to play into one another’s hands) they demeaned themselves as if
they had hitherto been mutual strangers, and each delivered an
unbiassed testimony to the other’s excellence. [542]

That such premeditated dissimulation might not be imputed to John, and
indirectly to Jesus, it has been sought to disprove the existence of
the contradiction in question exegetically. What John learned from the
heavenly sign was the Messiahship of Jesus; to this therefore, and not
to his person, refer the words, I knew him not, κᾀγὼ οὐκ ᾔδειν αὐτὸν.
[543] But it may be questioned whether such an acquaintance as John
must have had with Jesus, presupposing the narrative of Matthew and
Luke, was separable from a knowledge of his Messiahship. The connection
and intercourse of the two families, as described by Luke, would render
it impossible for John not to be early informed how solemnly Jesus had
been announced as the Messiah, before and at his birth; he could not
therefore say at a later period that, prior to the sign from heaven, he
had not known, but only that he had not believed, the story of former
wonders, one of which relates to himself. [544] It being thus
unavoidable to acknowledge that by the above declaration in the fourth
Gospel, the Baptist is excluded, not only from a knowledge of the
Messiahship of Jesus, but also from a personal acquaintance with him;
it has been attempted to reconcile the first chapter of Luke with this
ignorance, by appealing to the distance of residence between the two
families, as a preventive to the continuance of their intercourse.
[545] But if the journey from Nazareth to the hill country of Judea was
not too formidable for the betrothed Mary, how could it be so for the
two sons when ripening to maturity? What culpable indifference is
hereby supposed in both families to the heavenly communications they
had received! nay, what could be the object of those communications, if
they had no influence on the early life and intercourse of the two
sons? [546]

Let it be granted that the fourth Gospel excludes an acquaintance with
the Messiahship only of Jesus, and that the third presupposes an
acquaintance with his person only, on the part of John; still the
contradiction is not removed. For in Matthew, John, when required to
baptize Jesus, addresses him as if he knew him, not generally and
personally alone, but specially, in his character of Messiah. It is
true that the words: I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest
thou to me? (iii. 14), have been interpreted, in the true spirit of
harmonizing, as referring to the general superior excellence of Jesus,
and not to his Messiahship. [547] But the right to undertake the
baptism which was to prepare the way for the Messiah’s kingdom, was not
to be obtained by moral superiority in general, but was conferred by a
special call, such as John himself had received, and such as could
belong only to a prophet, or to the Messiah and his Forerunner (John i.
19 ff.). If then John attributed to Jesus authority to baptize, he must
have regarded him not merely as an excellent man, but as indubitably a
prophet, nay, since he held him worthy to baptize himself, as his own
superior: that is, since John conceived himself to be the Messiah’s
Forerunner, no other than the Messiah himself. Add to this, that
Matthew had just cited a discourse of the Baptist, in which he ascribes
to the coming Messiah a baptism more powerful than his own; how then
can we understand his subsequent language towards Jesus otherwise than
thus: “Of what use is my water baptism to thee, O Messiah? Far more do
I need thy baptism of the Spirit!” [548]

The contradiction cannot be cleared away; we must therefore, if we
would not lay the burthen of intentional deception on the agents, let
the narrators bear the blame; and there will be the less hindrance to
our doing so, the more obvious it is how one or both of them might be
led into an erroneous statement. There is in the present case no
obstacle to the reconciliation of Matthew with the fourth evangelist,
farther than the words by which the Baptist seeks to deter Jesus from
receiving baptism; words which, if uttered before the occurrence of
anything supernatural, presuppose a knowledge of Jesus in his character
of Messiah. Now the Gospel of the Hebrews, according to Epiphanius,
places the entreaty of John that Jesus would baptize him, as a sequel
to the sign from heaven; [549] and this account has been recently
regarded as the original one, abridged by the writer of our first
Gospel, who, for the sake of effect, made the refusal and confession of
the Baptist coincident with the first approach of Jesus. [550] But that
we have not in the Gospel of the Hebrews the original form of the
narrative, is sufficiently proved by its very tedious repetition of the
heavenly voice and the diffuse style of the whole. It is rather a very
traditional record, and the insertion of John’s refusal after the sign
and voice from heaven, was not made with the view of avoiding a
contradiction of the fourth Gospel, which cannot be supposed to have
been recognized in the circle of the Ebionite Christians, but from the
very motive erroneously attributed to Matthew in his alleged
transposition, namely, to give greater effect to the scene. A simple
refusal on the part of the Baptist appeared too weak; he must at least
fall at the feet of Jesus; and a more suitable occasion could not be
given than that of the sign from heaven, which accordingly must be
placed beforehand. This Hebrew Gospel, therefore, will not help us to
understand how Matthew was led into contradiction with John; still less
will it avail for the explanation of Luke’s narrative.

All is naturally explained by the consideration, that the important
relation between John and Jesus must have been regarded as existing at
all times, by reason of that ascription of pre-existence to the
essential which is a characteristic of the popular mind. Just as the
soul, when considered as an essence, is conceived more or less clearly
as pre-existent; so in the popular mind, every relation pregnant with
consequences is endowed with pre-existence. Hence the Baptist, who
eventually held so significant a relation to Jesus, must have known him
from the first, as is indistinctly intimated by Matthew, and more
minutely detailed by Luke; according to whom, their mothers knew each
other, and the sons themselves were brought together while yet unborn.
All this is wanting in the fourth Gospel, the writer of which
attributes an opposite assertion to John, simply because in his mind an
opposite interest preponderated; for the less Jesus was known to John
by whom he was afterwards so extolled, the more weight was thrown on
the miraculous scene which arrested the regards of the Baptist—the more
clearly was his whole position with respect to Jesus demonstrated to be
the effect, not of the natural order of events, but of the immediate
agency of God.

§ 46.

WAS JESUS ACKNOWLEDGED BY JOHN AS THE MESSIAH? AND IN WHAT SENSE?

To the foregoing question whether Jesus was known to John before the
baptism, is attached another, namely, What did John think of Jesus and
his Messiahship? The evangelical narratives are unanimous in stating,
that before Jesus had presented himself for baptism, John had announced
the immediate coming of One to whom he stood in a subordinate relation;
and the scene at the baptism of Jesus marked him, beyond mistake, as
the personage of whom John was the forerunner. According to Mark and
Luke, we must presume that the Baptist gave credence to this sign;
according to the fourth Gospel, he expressly attested his belief (i.
34), and moreover uttered words which evince the deepest insight into
the higher nature and office of Jesus (i. 29 ff. 36; iii. 27 ff.);
according to the first Gospel, he was already convinced of these before
the baptism of Jesus. On the other hand, Matthew (xi. 2 ff.) and Luke
(vii. 18 ff.) tell us that at a later period, the Baptist, on hearing
of the ministry of Jesus, despatched some of his disciples to him with
the inquiry, whether he (Jesus) was the promised Messiah, or whether
another must be expected.

The first impression from this is, that the question denoted an
uncertainty on the part of the Baptist whether Jesus were really the
Messiah; and so it was early understood. [551] But such a doubt is in
direct contradiction with all the other circumstances reported by the
Evangelists. It is justly regarded as psychologically impossible that
he whose belief was originated or confirmed by the baptismal sign,
which he held to be a divine revelation, and who afterwards pronounced
so decidedly on the Messianic call and the superior nature of Jesus,
should all at once have become unsteady in his conviction; he must then
indeed have been like a reed shaken by the wind, a comparison which
Jesus abnegates on this very occasion (Matt. xi. 7). A cause for such
vacillation is in vain sought in the conduct or fortunes of Jesus at
the time; for the rumour of the works of Christ, ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ,
which in Luke’s idea were miracles, could not awaken doubt in the
Baptist, and it was on this rumour that he sent his message. Lastly,
how could Jesus subsequently (John v. 33 ff.) so confidently appeal to
the testimony of the Baptist concerning him, when it was known that
John himself was at last perplexed about his Messiahship? [552]

Hence it has been attempted to give a different turn to the facts, and
to show that John’s inquiry was not made on his own account, but for
the sake of his disciples, to overcome in them the doubt with which he
was himself untainted. [553] Hereby it is true, the above-named
difficulties are removed; in particular it is explained why the Baptist
should contrive to send this message precisely on hearing of the
miracles of Jesus; he plainly hoping that his disciples, who had not
believed his testimony to the Messiahship of Jesus, would be convinced
of its truth by beholding the marvellous works of the latter. But how
could John hope that his envoys would chance to find Jesus in the act
of working miracles? According to Matthew, indeed, they did not so find
him, and Jesus appeals (v. 4) only to his former works, many of which
they had seen, and of which they might hear wherever he had presented
himself. Luke alone, in giving his evidently second-hand narrative,
[554] misconstrues the words of Jesus to require that the disciples of
John should have found him in the exercise of his supernatural power.
Further, if it had been the object of the Baptist to persuade his
disciples by a sight of the works of Jesus, he would not have charged
them with a question which could be answered by the mere words, the
authentic declaration of Jesus. For he could not hope by the assertion
of the person whose Messiahship was the very point in debate, to
convince the disciples whom his own declaration, in other cases
authoritative, had failed to satisfy. On the whole, it would have been
a singular course in the Baptist to lend his own words to the doubts of
others, and thereby, as Schleiermacher well observes, to compromise his
early and repeated testimony in favour of Jesus. It is clear that Jesus
understood the question proposed to him by the messengers as proceeding
from John himself; (ἀπαγγείλατε Ἰωάννῃ, Matt. xi. 4;) and he indirectly
complained of the want of faith in the latter by pronouncing those
blessed who were not offended in him (ver. 6). [555]

If then it must be granted that John made his inquiry on his own
behalf, and not on that of his disciples, and if nevertheless we cannot
impute to him a sudden lapse into doubt after his previous confidence;
nothing remains but to take the positive instead of the negative side
of the question, and to consider its scepticism as the mere garb of
substantial encouragement. [556] On this interpretation, the time which
Jesus allowed to escape without publicly manifesting himself as the
Messiah, seemed too tedious to John in his imprisonment; he sent
therefore to inquire how long Jesus would allow himself to be waited
for, how long he would delay winning to himself the better part of the
people by a declaration of his Messiahship, and striking a decisive
blow against the enemies of his cause—a blow that might even liberate
the Baptist from his prison. But if the Baptist, on the strength of his
belief that Jesus was the Messiah, hoped and sued for a deliverance,
perhaps miraculous, by him from prison, he would not clothe in the
language of doubt an entreaty which sprang out of his faith. Now the
inquiry in our evangelical text is one of unmixed doubt, and
encouragement must be foisted in, before it can be found there. How
great a violence must be done to the words is seen by the way in which
Schleiermacher handles them in accordance with this interpretation. The
dubitative question, σὺ εἶ ὁ ἐρχόμενος; he changes into the positive
assumption, thou art he who was to come; the other still more
embarrassing interrogatory, ἢ ἕτερον προσδοκῶμεν; he completely
transfigures thus: wherefore (seeing that thou performest so great
works) do we yet await thee?—shall not John with all his authority
command, through us, all those who have partaken of his baptism to obey
thee as the Messiah, and be attentive to thy signs? Even if we allow,
with Neander, the possibility of truth to this interpretation, a mere
summons to action will not accord with the earlier representation of
Jesus given by the Baptist. The two enunciations are at issue as to
form; for if John doubted not the Messiahship of Jesus, neither could
he doubt his better knowledge of the fitting time and manner of his
appearance: still farther are they at issue as to matter; for the
Baptist could not take offence at what is termed the delay of Jesus in
manifesting himself as the Messiah, or wish to animate him to bolder
conduct, if he retained his early view of the destination of Jesus. If
he still, as formerly, conceived Jesus to be the Lamb of God that
taketh away the sins of the world, ὁ ἀμνὸς τοῦ Τεοῦ, ὁ αἴρων τὴν
ἁμαρτίαν τοῦ κόσμοῦ, no thought could occur to him of a blow to be
struck by Jesus against his enemies, or in general, of a violent
procedure to be crowned by external conquest; rather, the quiet path
which Jesus trod must appear to him the right one—the path befitting
the destination of the Lamb of God. Thus if the question of John
conveyed a mere summons to action, it contradicted his previous views.

These expedients failing, the original explanation returns upon us;
namely, that the inquiry was an expression of uncertainty respecting
the messianic dignity of Jesus, which had arisen in the Baptist’s own
mind; an explanation which even Neander allows to be the most natural.
This writer seeks to account for the transient apostacy of the Baptist
from the strong faith in which he gave his earlier testimony, by the
supposition that a dark hour of doubt had overtaken the man of God in
his dismal prison; and he cites instances of men who, persecuted for
their Christian faith or other convictions, after having long borne
witness to the truth in the face of death, at length yielded to human
weakness and recanted. But on a closer examination, he has given a
false analogy. Persecuted Christians of the first centuries, and,
later, a Berengarius or a Galileo, were false to the convictions for
which they were imprisoned, and by abjuring which they hoped to save
themselves: the Baptist, to be compared with them, should have
retracted his censure of Herod, and not have shaken his testimony in
favour of Christ, which had no relation to his imprisonment. However
that may be, it is evident here that these doubts cannot have been
preceded by a state of certainty.

We come again to the difficulty arising from the statement of Matthew
that John sent his two disciples on hearing of the works of Christ,
ἀκούσας τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ, or as Luke has it, because his disciples
showed him of all these things, ἀπήγγειλαν περὶ πάντων τούτων. The
latter evangelist has narrated, immediately before, the raising of the
widow’s son, and the healing of the centurion’s servant. Could John,
then, believe Jesus to be the Messiah before he had performed any
messianic works, and be seized with doubt when he began to legitimatize
his claim by miracles such as were expected from the Messiah [557]?
This is so opposed to all psychological probability, that I wonder Dr.
Paulus, or some other expositor versed in psychology and not timid in
verbal criticism, has not started the conjecture that a negative has
slipped out of Matt. xi. 2, and that its proper reading is, ὁ δὲ
Ἰωάννης οὐκ ἀκούσας ἐν τῷ δεσμωτηρίῳ τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ, κ.τ.λ. It
might then be conceived, that John had indeed been convinced, at a
former period, of the Messiahship o£ Jesus; now, however, in his
imprisonment, the works of Jesus came no longer to his ears, and
imagining him inactive, he was assailed with doubt. But had John been
previously satisfied of the Messiahship of Jesus, the mere want of
acquaintance with his miracles could not have unhinged his faith. The
actual cause of John’s doubt, however, was the report of these
miracles;—a state of the case which is irreconcilable with any previous
confidence.

But how could he become uncertain about the Messiahship of Jesus, if he
had never recognised it? Not indeed in the sense of beginning to
suspect that Jesus was not the Messiah; but quite possibly in the sense
of beginning to conjecture that a man of such deeds was the Messiah.

We have here, not a decaying, but a growing certainty, and this
discrimination throws light on the whole purport of the passages in
question. John knew nothing of Jesus before, but that he had, like many
others, partaken of his baptism, and perhaps frequented the circle of
his disciples; and not until after the imprisonment of the Baptist did
Jesus appear as a teacher, and worker of miracles. Of this John heard,
and then arose in his mind a conjecture, fraught with hope, that as he
had announced the proximity of the Messiah’s kingdom, this Jesus might
be he who would verify his idea. [558] So interpreted, this message of
the Baptist excludes his previous testimony; if he had so spoken
formerly, he could not have so inquired latterly, and vice versâ. It is
our task, therefore, to compare the two contradictory statements, that
we may ascertain which has more traces than the other, of truth or
untruth.

The most definite expressions of John’s conviction that Jesus was the
Messiah are found in the fourth Gospel, and these suggest two distinct
questions: first, whether it be conceivable that John had such a notion
of the Messiah as is therein contained; and, secondly, whether it be
probable that he believed it realized in the person of Jesus.

With respect to the former, the fourth Gospel makes the Baptist’s idea
of the Messiah include the characteristics of expiatory suffering, and
of a premundane, heavenly existence. It has been attempted, indeed, so
to interpret the expressions with which he directs his disciples to
Jesus, as to efface the notion of expiatory suffering. Jesus, we are
told, is compared to a lamb on account of his meekness and patience;
αἴρειν τὴν ἁμαρτίαν τοῦ κόσμου, is to be understood either of a patient
endurance of the world’s malice, or of an endeavour to remove the sins
of the world by reforming it; and the sense of the Baptist’s words is
this: “How moving is it that this meek and gentle Jesus should have
undertaken so difficult and painful an office [559]!” But the best
critics have shown that even if αἴρειν by itself might bear this
interpretation, still ἀμνὸς, not merely with the article but with the
addition τοῦ Θεοῦ, must signify, not a lamb in general, but a special,
holy Lamb; and if, as is most probable, this designation has reference
to Isa. liii. 7., αἴρειν τὴν ἁμαρτίαν can only be expounded by what is
there predicated of the lamb-like servant of God, that he τὰς ἁμαρτίας
ἡμῶν φέρει, καὶ περὶ ἡμῶν ὀδυνᾶται (V. 4, LXX.), words which must
signify vicarious suffering. [560] Now that the Baptist should have
referred the above prophetic passage to the Messiah, and hence have
thought of him as suffering, has been recently held more than doubtful.
[561]

For so foreign to the current opinion, at least, was this notion of the
Messiah, that the disciples of Jesus, during the whole period of their
intercourse with him, could not reconcile themselves to it; and when
his death had actually resulted, their trust in him as the Messiah was
utterly confounded (Luke xxiv. 20 ff.). How, then, could the Baptist,
who, according to the solemn declaration of Jesus, Matt. xi. 11,
confirmed by the allusions in the Gospels to his strict ascetic life,
ranked below the least in the kingdom of heaven, to which the apostles
already belonged—how could this alien discern, long before the
sufferings of Jesus, that they pertained to the character of the
Messiah, when the denizens were only taught the same lesson by the
issue? Or, if the Baptist really had such insight, and communicated it
to his disciples, why did it not, by means of those who left his circle
for that of Jesus, win an entrance into the latter—nay, why did it not,
by means of the great credit which John enjoyed, mitigate the offence
caused by the death of Jesus, in the public at large [562]? Add to
this, that in none of our accounts of the Baptist, with the exception
of the fourth Gospel, do we find that he entertained such views of the
Messiah’s character; for, not to mention Josephus, the Synoptical
Gospels confine his representation of the Messianic office to the
spiritual baptism and winnowing of the people. Still it remains
possible that a penetrating mind, like that of the Baptist, might, even
before the death of Jesus, gather from Old Testament phrases and types
the notion of a suffering Messiah, and that his obscure hints on the
subject might not be comprehended by his disciples and cotemporaries.

Thus the above considerations are not decisive, and we therefore turn
to the expressions concerning the premundane existence and heavenly
origin of the Messiah, with the question: Could the Baptist have really
held such tenets? That from the words, John i. 15, 27, 30: He that
cometh after me is preferred before me; for he was before me, ὁ ὀπίσω
μοῦ ἐρχόμενος ἔμπροσθέν μοῦ γέγονεν, ὄτι πρῶτος μου ἦν, nothing but
dogmatical obstinacy can banish the notion of pre-existence, is seen by
a mere glance at such expositions as this of Paulus: “He who in the
course of time comes after me; has so appeared in my eyes, ἔμπροσθέν
μοῦ, that he (ὅτι—ὥστε, premiss—conclusion!) deserves rather from his
rank and character to be called the first.” [563] With preponderating
arguments more unprejudiced commentators have maintained, that the
reason here given why Jesus, who appeared after the Baptist in point of
time, had the precedence of him in dignity, is the pre-existence of the
former. [564] We have here obviously the favourite dogma of the fourth
Evangelist, the eternal pre-existence of the λόγος, present indeed to
the mind of that writer, who had just been inditing his proem, but that
it was also present to the mind of the Baptist is another question. The
most recent expositor allows that the sense in which the Evangelist
intends πρῶτος μοῦ, must have been very remote from the Baptist’s point
of view, at least so far as the λόγος is concerned. The Baptist, he
thinks, held the popular Jewish notion of the pre-existence of the
Messiah, as the subject of the Old Testament theophanies. [565] There
are traces of this Jewish notion in the writings of Paul (e.g. 1 Cor.
x. 4. Col. i. 15 f.) and the rabbins [566]; and allowing that it was of
Alexandrian origin, as Bretschneider argues, [567] we may yet ask
whether even before the time of Christ, the Alexandrian-judaic theology
may not have modified the opinions of the mother country? [568] Even
these expressions then, taken alone, are not conclusive, although it
begins to appear suspicious that the Baptist, otherwise conspicuous for
exhibiting the practical side of the idea of the Messiah’s kingdom,
should have ascribed to him by the fourth Evangelist solely, two
notions which at that time undoubtedly belonged only to the deepest
messianic speculations; and that the form in which those notions are
expressed is too peculiarly that of the writer, not to be put to his
account.

We arrive at a more decisive result by taking into examination the
passage John iii. 27–36, where John replies to the complaints of his
disciples at the rival baptism of Jesus, in a way that reduces all
commentators to perplexity. After showing how it lay at the foundation
of their respective destinies, which he desired not to overstep, that
he must decrease, while Jesus must increase, he proceeds (ver. 31) to
use forms of expression precisely similar to those in which the
Evangelist makes Jesus speak of himself, and in which he delivers his
own thoughts concerning Jesus. Our most recent commentator [569] allows
that this discourse of John seems the echo of the foregoing
conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus. [570] The expressions in the
speech lent to the Baptist are peculiarly those of the apostle John;
for instance, σφραγίζω (to seal), μαρτυρία (testimony), the antithesis
of ἄνωθεν and ἐκ τῆς γῆς (from above and of the earth), the phrase
ἔχειν ζωὴν αἰώνιον (to have eternal life); and the question presents
itself: Is it more probable that the Evangelist, as well as Jesus, in
whose mouth these expressions are so often put, borrowed them from the
Baptist, or that the Evangelist lent them (I will only at present say)
to the latter? This must be decided by the fact that the ideas, to
which the Baptist here gives utterance, lie entirely within the domain
of Christianity, and belong specially to the Christianity of the
Apostle John. Take for example that antithesis of ἄνω (from above), and
ἐκ τῆς γῆς (of the earth), the designation of Jesus as ἄνωθεν ἐρχόμενος
(he that cometh from above), as ὃν ἀπέστειλεν ὁ Θεὸς (he whom God hath
sent), who consequently τὰ ῥήματα τοῦ θεοῦ λαλεῖ (speaketh the words of
God), the relation of Jesus to God as the υἱὸς (son), whom ὁ πατὲρ
ἀγαπᾷ (the Father loveth):—what can be characteristic of Christianity,
and of the Apostle John’s mode of presenting it, if these ideas are not
so? and could they belong to the Baptist? Christianismus ante Christum!
And then, as Olshausen well observes, [571] is it consistent for John,
who, even on the fourth Evangelist’s own showing, remained separate
from Jesus, to speak of the blessedness of a believing union with him?
(v. 33 and 36).

Thus much then is certain, and has been acknowledged by the majority of
modern commentators: the words v. 31–36 cannot have been spoken by the
Baptist. Hence theologians have concluded, that the Evangelist cannot
have intended to ascribe them to him, but from v. 31 speaks in his own
person. [572] This sounds plausible, if they can only point out any
mark of division between the discourse of the Baptist and the addenda
of the Evangelist. But none such is to be found. It is true that the
speaker from v. 31 uses the third person, and not the first as in v.
30, when referring to the Baptist: but in the former passage the
Baptist is no longer alluded to directly and individually, but as one
of a class, in which case he must, though himself the speaker, choose
the third person. Thus there is no definitive boundary, and the speech
glides imperceptibly from those passages which might have been uttered
by the Baptist, into those which are altogether incongruous with his
position; moreover from v. 30 Jesus is spoken of in the present tense,
as the Evangelist might represent the Baptist to speak during the
lifetime of Jesus, but could not in his own person have written after
the death of Jesus. In other passages, when presenting his own
reflections concerning Jesus, he uses the preterite. [573] Thus,
grammatically, the Baptist continues to speak from v. 31, and yet,
historically, it is impossible that he should have uttered the sequel;
a contradiction not to be solved, if it be added that, dogmatically,
the Evangelist cannot have ascribed to the Baptist words which he never
really pronounced. Now if we do not choose to defy the clear rules of
grammar, and the sure data of history, for the sake of the visionary
dogma of inspiration, we shall rather conclude from the given premises,
with the author of the Probabilia, that the Evangelist falsely ascribes
the language in question to the Baptist, putting into his mouth a
Christology of his own, of which the latter could know nothing. This is
no more than Lücke [574] confesses, though not quite so frankly, when
he says that the reflections of the Evangelist are here more than
equally mixed with the discourse of the Baptist, in such a way as to be
undistinguishable. In point of fact, however, the reflections of the
Evangelist are easily to be recognized; but of the fundamental ideas of
the Baptist there is no trace, unless they are sought for with a good
will which amounts to prejudice, and to which therefore we make no
pretension. If then we have a proof in the passages just considered,
that the fourth Evangelist did not hesitate to lend to the Baptist
messianic and other ideas which were never his; we may hence conclude
retrospectively concerning the passages on which we formerly suspended
our decision, that the ideas expressed in them of a suffering and
pre-existent Messiah belonged, not to the Baptist, but to the
Evangelist.

In giving the above reply to our first question, we have, in
strictness, answered the remaining one; for if the Baptist had no such
messianic ideas, he could not refer them to the person of Jesus. But to
strengthen the evidence for the result already obtained, we will make
the second question the object of a special examination. According to
the fourth Evangelist the Baptist ascribed to Jesus all the messianic
attributes above discussed. If he did this so enthusiastically,
publicly, and repeatedly, as we read in John, he could not have been
excluded by Jesus from the kingdom of heaven (Matt. xi. 11), nor have
been placed below the least of its citizens. For such a confession as
that of the Baptist, when he calls Jesus the υἱὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ, who was
before him,—such refined insight into the messianic economy, as is
shown by his designating Jesus ὁ ἀμνὸς τοῦ Θεοῦ, ὁ αἴρων τὴν ἁμαρτίαν
τοῦ κόσμου, Peter himself had not to produce, though Jesus not only
receives him into the kingdom of heaven for his confession, Matt. xvi.
16, but constitutes him the rock on which that kingdom was to be
founded. But we have something yet more incomprehensible. John, in the
fourth gospel, gives it as the object of his baptism, ἵνα φανερωθῆ
(Jesus as Messiah) τῷ Ἰσραὴλ (i. 31), and acknowledges it to be the
divine ordinance, that by the side of the increasing Jesus, he must
decrease (iii. 30); nevertheless after Jesus had begun to baptize by
the instrumentality of his disciples, John continues to practise his
baptism (iii. 32). Why so, if he knew the object of his baptism to be
fulfilled by the introduction of Jesus, and if he directed his
followers to him as the Messiah? (i. 36 f.). [575] The continuance of
his baptism would be to no purpose; for Lücke’s supposition that John’s
baptism was still of effect in those places where Jesus had not
appeared, he himself overthrows by the observation, that at least at
the period treated of in John iii. 22 ff., Jesus and John must have
been baptizing near to each other, since the disciples of John were
jealous of the concourse to the baptism of Jesus. But the continuance
of John’s baptism appears even to counteract his aim, if that aim were
merely to point out Jesus as the Messiah. He thereby detained a circle
of individuals on the borders of the Messiah’s kingdom, and retarded or
hindered their going over to Jesus (and that through his own fault, not
theirs alone, [576] for he nullified his verbal direction to Jesus by
his contradictory example). Accordingly we find the party of John’s
disciples still existing in the time of the Apostle Paul (Acts xviii.
24 f., xix. 1 ff.); and, if the Sabæans are to be credited concerning
their own history, the sect remains to this day. [577] Certainly,
presupposing the averred conviction of the Baptist relative to Jesus,
it would seem most natural for him to have attached himself to the
latter; this, however, did not happen, and hence we conclude that he
cannot have had that conviction. [578]

But chiefly the character and entire demeanour of the Baptist render it
impossible to believe that he placed himself on that footing with
Jesus, described by the fourth evangelist. How could the man of the
wilderness, the stern ascetic, who fed on locusts and wild honey, and
prescribed severe fasts to his disciples, the gloomy, threatening
preacher of repentance, animated with the spirit of Elias—how could he
form a friendship with Jesus, in every thing his opposite? He must
assuredly, with his disciples, have stumbled at the liberal manners of
Jesus, and have been hindered by them from recognizing him as the
Messiah. Nothing is more unbending than ascetic prejudice; he who, like
the Baptist, esteems it piety to fast and mortify the body, will never
assign a high grade in things divine to him who disregards such
asceticism. A mind with narrow views can never comprehend one whose
vision takes a wider range, although the latter may know how to do
justice to its inferior; hence Jesus could value and sanction John in
his proper place, but the Baptist could never give the precedence to
Jesus, as he is reported to have done in the fourth gospel. The
declaration of the Baptist (John iii. 30), that he must decrease, but
Jesus must increase, is frequently praised as an example of the noblest
and sublimest resignation. [579] The beauty of this representation we
grant; but not its truth. The instance would be a solitary one, if a
man whose life had its influence on the world’s history, had so readily
yielded the ascendant, in his own æra, to one who came to eclipse him
and render him superfluous. Such a step is not less difficult for
individuals than for nations, and that not from any vice, as egotism or
ambition, so that an exception might be presumed (though not without
prejudice) in the case of a man like the Baptist; it is a consequence
of that blameless limitation which, as we have already remarked, is
proper to a low point of view in relation to a higher, and which is all
the more obstinately maintained if the inferior individual is, like
John, of a coarse, rugged nature. Only from the divine point of view,
or from that of an historian, bent on establishing religious doctrines,
could such things be spoken, and the fourth Evangelist has in fact put
into the mouth of the Baptist the very same thoughts concerning the
relation between him and Jesus, that the compiler of the 2nd book of
Samuel has communicated, as his own observation, on the corresponding
relation between Saul and David. [580] Competent judges have recently
acknowledged that there exists a discrepancy between the synoptical
gospels and the fourth, the blame of which must be imputed to the
latter: [581] and this opinion is confirmed and strengthened by the
fact that the fourth Evangelist transforms the Baptist into a totally
different character from that in which he appears in the Synoptical
gospels and in Josephus; out of a practical preacher he makes a
speculative christologist; out of a hard and unbending, a yielding and
self-renunciating nature.

The style in which the scenes between John and Jesus (John i. 29 ff. 35
ff.) are depicted, shows them to have originated partly in the free
composition of the imagination, partly in a remodelling of the
synoptical narratives with a view to the glorification of Jesus. With
respect to the former: Jesus is walking, v. 35, near to John; in v. 29
he is said to come directly to him; yet on neither occasion is there
any account of an interview between the two. Could Jesus really have
avoided contact with the Baptist, that there might be no appearance of
preconcerted action? This is Lampe’s conjecture; but it is the product
of modern reflections, foreign to the time and circumstances of Jesus.
Or shall we suppose that the narrator, whether fortuitously or
purposely, omitted known details? But the meetings of Jesus and John
must have furnished him with peculiarly interesting matter, so that, as
Lücke allows, [582] his silence is enigmatical. From our point of view
the enigma is solved. The Baptist had, in the Evangelist’s idea,
pointed to Jesus as the Messiah. This, understood as a visible
pointing, required that Jesus should pass by or approach John; hence
this feature was inserted in the narrative; but the particulars of an
actual meeting being unnecessary, were, though very awkwardly, omitted.
The incident of some disciples attaching themselves to Jesus in
consequence of the Baptist’s direction, seems to be a free version of
the sending of two disciples by John from his prison. Thus, as in
Matthew xi. 2, and Luke vii. 18, John despatches two disciples to Jesus
with the dubitative question, “Art thou he that should come?” so in the
fourth gospel he likewise sends two disciples to Jesus, but with the
positive assertion that he (Jesus) is the Lamb of God, ἀμνὸς Θεοῦ; as
Jesus in the former case gives to the disciples, after the delivery of
their message, the direction: “Go and tell John the things ye have seen
and heard,” ἂ εἴδετε καὶ ἠκοῦσατε: so in the latter, he gives to the
inquiry concerning his abode, the answer: Come and see, ἔρχεσθε καὶ
ἴδετε. But while in the synoptical gospels the two disciples return to
John, in the fourth, they permanently attach themselves to Jesus.

From the foregoing considerations, it is inconceivable that John should
ever have held and pronounced Jesus to be the Messiah: but it is easy
to show how a belief that he did so might obtain, without historical
foundation. According to Acts xix. 4, the Apostle Paul declares what
seems sufficiently guaranteed by history, that John baptized εἰς τὸν
ἐρχόμενον, and this coming Messiah, adds Paul, to whom John pointed was
Jesus (τουτέστιν εἰς Χριστὸν Ἰησοῦν). This was an interpretation of the
Baptist’s words by the issue; for Jesus had approved himself to a great
number of his cotemporaries, as the Messiah announced by John. There
was but a step to the notion that the Baptist himself had, under the
ἐρχόμενος, understood the individual Jesus,—had himself the τουτέστιν,
κ.τ.λ. in his mind; a view which, however unhistorical, would be
inviting to the early Christians, in proportion to their wish to
sustain the dignity of Jesus by the authority of the Baptist, then very
influential in the Jewish world. [583] There was yet another reason,
gathered from the Old Testament. The ancestor of the Messiah, David,
had likewise in the old Hebrew legend a kind of forerunner in the
person of Samuel, who by order from Jehovah anointed him to be king
over Israel (1 Sam. xvi.), and afterwards stood in the relation of a
witness to his claims. If then it behoved the Messiah to have a
forerunner, who, besides, was more closely characterized in the
prophecy of Malachi as a second Elias, and if, historically, Jesus was
preceded by John, whose baptism as a consecration corresponded to an
anointing; the idea was not remote of conforming the relation between
John and Jesus to that between Samuel and David.

We might have decided with tolerable certainty which of the two
incompatible statements concerning the relation between the Baptist and
Jesus is to be renounced as unhistorical, by the universal canon of
interpretation, that where, in narratives having a tendency to
aggrandise a person or a fact (a tendency which the Gospels evince at
every step), two contradictory statements are found, that which best
corresponds to this aim is the least historical; because if, in
accordance with it, the original fact had been so dazzling, it is
inconceivable that the other less brilliant representation should
afterwards arise; as here, if John so early acknowledged Jesus, it is
inexplicable how a story could be fabricated, which reports him to have
been in doubt on the same subject at a very late period. We have,
however, by a separate examination of the narrative in the fourth
gospel, ascertained that it is self-contradictory and contains its own
solution; hence our result, found independently of the above canon,
serves for its confirmation.

Meanwhile that result is only the negative, that all which turns upon
the early acknowledgment of Jesus by John has no claim to be received
as historical; of the positive we know nothing, unless the message out
of prison may be regarded as a clue to the truth, and we must therefore
subject this side of the matter to a separate examination. We will not
extend our arguments against the probability of an early and decided
conviction on the part of the Baptist, to a mere conjecture awakened in
him at a later period that Jesus was the Messiah; and therefore we
leave uncontested the proper contents of the narrative. But as regards
the form, it is not to be conceived without difficulty. That the
Baptist in prison, ἐν τῷ δεσμωτηρίῳ, should have information of the
proceedings of Jesus; that he should from that locality send his
disciples to Jesus; and that these as we are led to infer, should bring
him an answer in his imprisonment.

According to Josephus, [584] Herod imprisoned John from fear of
disturbances: allowing this to be merely a joint cause with that given
by the Evangelist, it is yet difficult to believe that to a man, one
motive of whose imprisonment was to seclude him from his followers, his
disciples should have retained free access; although we cannot prove it
an impossibility that circumstances might favour the admission of
certain individuals. Now that the message was sent from prison we learn
from Matthew alone; Luke says nothing of it, although he tells of the
message. We might hence, with Schleiermacher, [585] consider Luke’s
account the true one, and the δεσμωτηρίῳ of Matthew an unhistorical
addition. But that critic has himself very convincingly shown, from the
tedious amplifications, partly betraying even misunderstanding, which
the narrative of Luke contains (vii. 20, 21, 29, 30), that Matthew
gives the incident in its original, Luke in a revised form. [586] It
would indeed be singular if Matthew had supplied the δεσμωτηρίῳ when it
was originally wanting; it is far more natural to suppose that Luke,
who in the whole paragraph appears as a reviser, expunged the original
mention of the prison.

In judging of Luke’s motives for so doing, we are led to notice the
difference in the dates given by the evangelists for the imprisonment
of John. Matthew, with whom Mark agrees, places it before the public
appearance of Jesus in Galilee; for he gives it as the motive for the
return of Jesus into that province (Matt. iv. 12; Mark i. 14). Luke
assigns no precise date to the arrest of the Baptist (iii. 19 f.), yet
it is to be inferred from his silence about the prison, in connexion
with the sending of the two disciples, that he regarded it as a later
occurrence; but John expressly says, that after the first passover
attended by Jesus in his public character, John was not yet cast into
prison (iii. 24). If it be asked, who is right? we answer that there is
something on the face of the account of the first Evangelist, which has
inclined many commentators to renounce it in favour of the two last.
That Jesus, on the report of John’s imprisonment in Galilee by Herod
Antipas, should have returned into the dominions of that prince for the
sake of safety, is, as Schneckenburger well maintains, [587] highly
improbable, since there, of all places, he was the least secure from a
similar fate. But even if it be held impossible to dissociate the
ἀνεχώρησεν (he withdrew) from the cognate idea of seeking security, we
may still ask whether, disregarding the mistake in the motive, the fact
itself may not be maintained. Matthew and Mark connect with this
journey into Galilee after John’s imprisonment, the commencement of the
public ministry of Jesus; and that this was consequent on the removal
of the Baptist, I am quite inclined to believe. For it is in itself the
most natural that the exit of the Baptist should incite Jesus to carry
on in his stead the preaching of μετανοιεῖτἐ· ἦγγικε γὰρ ἡ βασιλεία τῶν
οὐρανῶν; and the canon cited above is entirely in favour of Matthew.
For if it be asked which fiction best accords with the aggrandising
spirit of the Christian legend,—that of John’s removal before the
appearance of Jesus, or that of their having long laboured in
conjunction?—the answer must be, the latter. If he to whom the hero of
a narrative is superior disappears from the scene before the entrance
of the latter, the crowning opportunity for the hero to demonstrate his
ascendancy is lost—the full splendour of the rising sun can only be
appreciated, when the waning moon is seen above the horizon, growing
paler and paler in the presence of the greater luminary. Such is the
case in the Gospels of Luke and John, while Matthew and Mark rest
satisfied with the less effective representation. Hence, as the least
calculated to magnify Jesus, the account of Matthew has the advantage
in historical probability.

Thus at the time when the two disciples must have been sent to Jesus,
the Baptist was already imprisoned, and we have remarked above, that he
could hardly, so situated, transmit and receive messages. But popular
legend might be prompted to fabricate such a message, that the Baptist
might not depart without at least an incipient recognition of Jesus as
the Messiah; so that neither the one nor the other of the two
incompatible statements is to be regarded as historical.

§ 47.

OPINION OF THE EVANGELISTS AND JESUS CONCERNING THE BAPTIST, WITH HIS
OWN JUDGMENT ON HIMSELF. RESULT OF THE INQUIRY INTO THE RELATIONSHIP
BETWEEN THESE TWO INDIVIDUALS.

The Evangelists apply to John, as the preparer of the Messiah’s
kingdom, several passages of the Old Testament.

The abode of the preacher of repentance in the wilderness, his activity
in preparing the way for the Messiah, necessarily recalled the passage
of Isaiah (xl. 3ff. LXX.): φωνὴ βοῶντος ἐν ἐρήμῳ· ἑτοιμάσατε τὴν ὁδὸν
Κυρίῳ κ.τ.λ. This passage, which in its original connection related not
to the Messiah and his forerunner, but to Jehovah, for whom a way was
to be prepared through the wilderness toward Judea, that he might
return with his people from exile, is quoted by the first three
Evangelists as a prophecy fulfilled by the appearance of the Baptist
(Matt. iii. 3; Mark i. 3; Luke iii. 4 ff.). This might be thought a
later and Christian application, but there is nothing to controvert the
statement of the fourth Evangelist, that the Baptist had himself
characterized his destination by those prophetic words.

As the synoptical gospels have unanimously borrowed this passage from
the Baptist himself, so Mark has borrowed the application of another
prophetic passage to the Baptist from Jesus. Jesus had said (Matt. xi.
10; Luke vii. 27): οὗ τος γάρ ἐστι περὶ οὗ γέγραπται· ἰδοὺ ἀποστέλλω
τὸν ἄγγελόν μου πρὸ προσώπου σου, ὃς κατασκευάσει τὴν ὁδόν σου
ἔμπροσθέν σου·. This is he of whom it is written, Behold I send my
messenger before thy face, to prepare thy way before thee; and Mark in
the introduction to his Gospel, applies these words of Malachi (iii.
1), together with the above passage from Isaiah, without distinguishing
their respective sources, to the forerunner, John. The text is a
messianic one; Jehovah, however, does not therein speak of sending a
messenger before the Messiah, but before himself: and it is only in the
New Testament citations in all these instances that the second person
(σου) is substituted for the first (‏לְפָנַי‎).

Another notable passage of the same prophet (iii. 23, LXX. iv. 4: καὶ
ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ ἀποστελῶ ὑμῖν Ἠλίαν τὸν Θεσβίτην, πρὶν ἐλθεῖν τὴν ἡμέραν
Κυρίου, κ.τ.λ.: Behold, I will send you Elijah the Tishbite before the
coming of the day of the Lord, etc.) suggested to the Evangelists the
assimilation of John the Baptist to Elias. That John, labouring for the
reformation of the people, in the spirit and power of Elias, should
prepare the way for the Divine visitation in the times of the Messiah,
was according to Luke i. 17, predicted before his birth. In John i. 21,
when the emissaries of the Sanhedrim ask, “Art thou Elias?” the Baptist
declines this dignity: according to the usual explanation, he only
extended his denial to the rude popular notion, that he was the ancient
seer corporeally resuscitated, whereas he would have admitted the view
of the synoptical gospels, that he had the spirit of Elias.
Nevertheless it appears improbable that if the fourth Evangelist had
been familiar with the idea of the Baptist as a second Elias, he would
have put into his mouth so direct a negative.

This scene, peculiar to the fourth gospel, in which John rejects the
title of Elias, with several others, demands a yet closer examination,
and must be compared with a narrative in Luke (iii. 15), to which it
has a striking similarity. In Luke, the crowd assembled round the
Baptist begin to think: Is not this the Christ? μήποτε αὐτὸς εἴη ὁ
Χριστός· in John, the deputies of the Sanhedrim [588] ask him, Who art
thou? σὺ τίς εἶ; which we infer from the Baptist’s answer to mean: “Art
thou, as is believed, the Messiah?” [589] According to Luke, the
Baptist answers, I indeed baptize you with water; but one mightier than
I cometh, the latchet of whose shoes I am not worthy to unloose.
According to John he gives a similar reply: I baptize with water; but
there standeth one among you whom ye know not; He it is who coming
after me is preferred before me, whose shoes’ latchet I am not worthy
to unloose: the latter Evangelist adding his peculiar propositions
concerning the pre-existence of Jesus, and deferring to another
occasion (v. 33) the mention of the Messiah’s spiritual baptism, which
Luke gives in immediate connexion with the above passage. In Luke, and
still more decidedly in John, this whole scene is introduced with a
design to establish the Messiahship of Jesus, by showing that the
Baptist had renounced that dignity, and attributed it to one who should
come after him. If at the foundation of two narratives so similar,
there can scarcely be more than one fact, [590] the question is, which
gives that fact the most faithfully? In Luke’s account there is no
intrinsic improbability; on the contrary it is easy to imagine, that
the people, congregated round the man who announced the Messiah’s
kingdom, and baptized with a view to it, should, in moments of
enthusiasm, believe him to be the Messiah. But that the Sanhedrim
should send from Jerusalem to John on the banks of the Jordan, for the
sake of asking him whether he were the Messiah, seems less natural.
Their object could only be what, on a later occasion, it was with
respect to Jesus (Matt. xxi. 23 ff.), namely, to challenge the
authority of John to baptize, as appears from v. 25. Moreover, from the
hostile position which John had taken towards the sects of the
Pharisees and Sadducees (Matt. iii. 7), to whom the members of the
Sanhedrim belonged, they must have prejudged that he was not the
Messiah, nor a prophet, and consequently, that he had no right to
undertake a βάπτισμα. But in that case, they could not possibly have so
put their questions as they are reported to have done in the fourth
gospel. In the passage from Mathew above cited, they asked Jesus, quite
consistently with their impression that he had no prophetic authority:
ἐν ποίᾳ ἐξουσίᾳ ταῦτα ποιεῖς; By what authority doest thou these
things? but in John, they question the Baptist precisely as if they
pre-supposed him to be the Messiah, and when he, apparently to their
consternation, has denied this, they tender him successively the
dignities of Elias, and of another prophetic forerunner, as if they
earnestly wished him to accept one of these titles. Searching opponents
will not thus thrust the highest honours on the man to whom they are
inimical;—this is the representation of a narrator who wishes to
exhibit the modesty of the man, and his subordination to Jesus, by his
rejection of those brilliant titles. To enable him to reject them, they
must have been offered; but this could in reality only be done by
well-wishers, as in Luke, where the conjecture that the Baptist was the
Messiah is attributed to the people.

Why then did not the fourth Evangelist attribute those questions
likewise to the people, from whom, with a slight alteration, they would
have seemed quite natural? Jesus, when addressing the unbelieving Jews
in Jerusalem, (John v. 33), appeals to their message to the Baptist,
and to the faithful testimony then given by the latter. Had John given
his declaration concerning his relation to Jesus before the common
people merely, such an appeal would have been impossible; for if Jesus
were to refer his enemies to the testimony of John, that testimony must
have been delivered before his enemies; if the assertions of the
Baptist were to have any diplomatic value, they must have resulted from
the official inquiry of a magisterial deputation. Such a remodelling of
the facts appears to have been aided by the above-mentioned narrative
from the synoptical traditions, wherein the high priests and scribes
ask Jesus, by what authority he does such things (as the casting out of
the buyers and sellers). Here also Jesus refers to John, asking for
their opinion as to the authority of his baptism, only, it is true,
with the negative view of repressing their further inquiries (Matt.
xxi. 23 ff. parall.); but how easily might this reference be made to
take an affirmative sense, and instead of the argument, “If ye know not
what powers were entrusted to John, ye need not know whence mine are
given,”—the following be substituted: “Since ye know what John has
declared concerning me, ye must also know what power and dignity belong
to me;” whereupon what was originally a question addressed to Jesus,
transformed itself into a message to the Baptist. [591]

The judgment of Jesus on the character of John is delivered on two
occasions in the synoptical gospels; first after the departure of
John’s messengers (Matt xi. 7 ff.); secondly, after the appearance of
Elias at the transfiguration (Matt. xvii. 12 ff.), in reply to the
question of a disciple. In the fourth gospel, after an appeal to the
Baptist’s testimony, Jesus pronounces an eulogium on him in the
presence of the Jews (v. 35), after referring, as above remarked, to
their sending to John. In this passage he calls the Baptist a burning
and a shining light, in whose beams the fickle people were for a season
willing to rejoice. In one synoptical passage, he declares John to be
the promised Elias; in the other, there are three points to be
distinguished. First, with respect to the character and agency of
John,—the severity and firmness of his mind, and the pre-eminence which
as the messianic forerunner, who with forcible hand had opened the
kingdom of heaven, he maintained even over the prophets, are extolled
(v. 7–14); secondly, in relation to Jesus and the citizens of the
kingdom of heaven, the Baptist, though exalted above all the members of
the Old Testament economy, is declared to be in the rear of every one
on whom, through Jesus, the new light had arisen (v. 11). We see how
Jesus understood this from what follows (v. 18), when we compare it
with Matt. ix. 16 f. In the former passage Jesus describes John as μήτε
ἐσθίων μήτε πίνων, neither eating nor drinking; and in the latter it is
this very asceticism which is said to liken him to the ἱματίοις and
ἀσκοῖς παλαιοῖς, the old garments and old bottles, with which the new,
introduced by Jesus, will not agree. What else then could it be, in
which the Baptist was beneath the children of the kingdom of Jesus, but
(in connexion with his non-recognition or only qualified acknowledgment
of Jesus as Messiah) the spirit of external observance, which still
clung to fasting and similar works, and his gloomy asceticism? And, in
truth, freedom from these is the test of transition from a religion of
bondage, to one of liberty and spirituality. [592] Thirdly, with
respect to the relation in which the agency of John and Jesus stood to
their cotemporaries, the same inaptitude to receive the ministrations
of both is complained of v. 16 ff., although in v. 12 it is observed,
that the violent zeal of some βιασταὶ had, under the guidance of John,
wrested for them an entrance into the kingdom of the Messiah. [593]

In conclusion, we must take a review of the steps by which tradition
has gradually annexed itself to the simple historical traits of the
relation between John and Jesus. Thus much seems to be historical: that
Jesus, attracted by the fame of the Baptist, put himself under the
tuition of that preacher, and that having remained some time among his
followers, and been initiated into his ideas of the approaching
messianic kingdom, he, after the imprisonment of John, carried on,
under certain modifications, the same work, never ceasing, even when he
had far surpassed his predecessor, to render him due homage.

The first addition to this in the Christian legend, was, that John had
taken approving notice of Jesus. During his public ministry, it was
known that he had only indefinitely referred to one coming after him;
but it behoved him, at least in a conjectural way, to point out Jesus
personally, as that successor. To this it was thought he might have
been moved by the fame of the works of Jesus, which, loud as it was,
might even penetrate the walls of his prison. Then was formed Matthew’s
narrative of the message from prison; the first modest attempt to make
the Baptist a witness for Jesus, and hence clothed in an interrogation,
because a categorical testimony was too unprecedented.

But this late and qualified testimony was not enough. It was a late
one, for prior to it there was the baptism which Jesus received from
John, and by which he, in a certain degree, placed himself in
subordination to the Baptist; hence those scenes in Luke, by which the
Baptist was placed, even before his birth, in a subservient relation to
Jesus.

Not only was it a late testimony which that message contained; it was
but half a one; for the question implied uncertainty, and ὁ ἐρχόμενος
conveyed indecision. Hence in the fourth gospel there is no longer a
question about the Messiahship of Jesus, but the most solemn
asseverations on that head, and we have the most pointed declarations
of the eternal, divine nature of Jesus, and his character as the
suffering Messiah.

In a narrative aiming at unity, as does the fourth gospel, these very
pointed declarations could not stand by the side of the dubious
message, which is therefore only found in this Gospel under a totally
reorganized form. Neither does this message accord with that which in
the synoptical gospels is made to occur at the baptism of Jesus, and
even earlier in his intercourse with John; but the first three
Evangelists, in their loose compositions, admitted, along with the more
recent form of the tradition, the less complete one, because they
attached less importance to the question of John than to the consequent
discourse of Jesus.

§ 48.

THE EXECUTION OF JOHN THE BAPTIST.

We here take under our examination, by way of appendix, all that has
been transmitted to us concerning the tragic end of the Baptist.
According to the unanimous testimony of the synoptical Evangelists and
Josephus, [594] he was executed, after a protracted imprisonment, by
order of Herod Antipas, tetrarch of Galilee; and in the New Testament
accounts he is said to have been beheaded. (Matt. xiv. 3 ff.; Mark vi.
17 ff.; Luke ix. 9.)

But Josephus and the Evangelists are at variance as to the cause of his
imprisonment and execution. According to the latter, the censure which
John had pronounced on the marriage of Herod with his (half) brother’s
[595] wife, was the cause of his imprisonment, and the revengeful
cunning of Herodias, at a court festival, of his death: Josephus gives
the fear of disturbances, which was awakened in Herod by the formidable
train of the Baptist’s followers, as the cause at once of the
imprisonment and the execution. [596] If these two accounts be
considered as distinct and irreconcilable, it may be doubted which of
the two deserves the preference. It is not here as in the case of Herod
Agrippa’s death, Acts xii. 23, viz., that the New Testament narrative,
by intermixing a supernatural cause where Josephus has only a natural
one, enables us to prejudge it as unhistorical; on the contrary, we
might here give the palm to the evangelical narrative, for the
particularity of its details. But on the other hand, it must be
considered that that very particularity, and especially the conversion
of a political into a personal motive, corresponds fully to the
development of the legendary spirit among the people, whose imagination
is more at home in domestic than in political circles. [597] Meanwhile
it is quite possible to reconcile the two narratives. This has been
attempted by conjecturing, that the fear of insurrection was the proper
cabinet motive for the imprisonment of the Baptist, while the
irreverent censure passed on the ruler was thrust forward as the
ostensible motive. [598] But I greatly doubt whether Herod would
designedly expose the scandalous point touched on by John; it is more
likely, if a distinction is to be here made between a private and
ostensible cause, that the censure of the marriage was the secret
reason, and the fear of insurrection disseminated as an excuse for
extreme severity. [599] Such a distinction, however, is not needed; for
Antipas might well fear, that John, by his strong censure of the
marriage and the whole course of the tetrarch’s life, might stir up the
people into rebellion against him.

But there is a diversity even between the evangelical narratives
themselves, not only in this, that Mark gives the scene at the feast
with the most graphic details, while Luke is satisfied with a concise
statement (iii. 18–20, ix. 9), and Matthew takes a middle course; but
Mark’s representation of the relation between Herod and the Baptist
differs essentially from that of Matthew. While according to the
latter, Herod wished to kill John, but was withheld by his dread of the
people, who looked on the Baptist as a prophet (v. 5); according to
Mark, it was Herodias who conspired against his life, but could not
attain her object, because her husband was in awe of John as a holy
man, sometimes heard him gladly, and not seldom followed his counsel
(v. 19). [600] Here, again, the individualizing characteristic of
Mark’s narrative has induced commentators to prefer it to that of
Matthew. [601] But in the finishing touches and alterations of Mark we
may detect the hand of tradition; especially as Josephus merely says of
the people, that they gave ear to the sound of his words, ἤρθησαν τῇ
ἀκροάσει τῶν λόγων, while he says of Herod, that having conceived fears
of John, he judged it expedient to put him to death, δείσας κρεῖττον
ἡγεῖται (τὸν Ἰωάννην) ἀναιρεῖν. How near lay the temptation to exalt
the Baptist, by representing the prince against whom he had spoken, and
by whom he was imprisoned, as feeling bound to venerate him, and only,
to his remorse, seduced into giving his death-warrant, by his
vindictive wife! It may be added, that the account of Matthew is not
inconsistent with the character of Antipas, as gathered from other
sources. [602]

The close of the evangelical narratives leaves the impression that the
dissevered head of John was presented at table, and that the prison was
consequently close at hand. But we learn from the passage in Josephus
above cited, that the Baptist was confined in Machærus, a fortress on
the southern border of Peræa, whereas the residence of Herod was in
Tiberias, [603] a day’s journey distant from Machærus. Hence the head
of John the Baptist could only be presented to Herod after two days’
journey, and not while he yet sat at table. The contradiction here
apparent is not to be removed by the consideration, that it is not
expressly said in the Gospels that John’s head was brought in during
the meal, for this is necessarily inferred from the entire narrative.
Not only are the commission of the executioner and his return with the
head, detailed in immediate connexion with the incidents of the meal;
but only thus has the whole dramatic scene its appropriate
conclusion;—only thus is the contrast complete, which is formed by the
death-warrant and the feast: in fine, the πίναξ, on which the
dissevered head is presented, marks it as the costliest viand which the
unnatural revenge of a woman could desire at table. But we have, as a
probable solution, the information of Josephus, [604] that Herod
Antipas was then at war with the Arabian king, Aretas, between whose
kingdom and his own lay the fortress of Machærus; and there Herod might
possibly have resided with his court at that period.

Thus we see that the life of John in the evangelical narratives is,
from easily conceived reasons, overspread with mythical lustre on the
side which is turned towards Jesus, while on the other its historical
lineaments are more visible.

CHAPTER II.

BAPTISM AND TEMPTATION OF JESUS.

§ 49.

WHY DID JESUS RECEIVE BAPTISM FROM JOHN?

In conformity with the evangelical view of the fact, the customary
answer given by the orthodox to this question is, that Jesus, by his
submission to John’s baptism, signified his consecration to the
messianic office; an explanation which is supported by a passage in
Justin, according to which it was the Jewish notion, that the Messiah
would be unknown as such to himself and others, until Elias as his
forerunner should anoint him, and thereby make him distinguishable by
all. [605] The Baptist himself, however, as he is represented by the
first Evangelist, could not have partaken of this design; for had he
regarded his baptism as a consecration which the Messiah must
necessarily undergo, he would not have hesitated to perform it on the
person of Jesus (iii. 14).

Our former inquiries have shown that John’s baptism related partly εἰς
τὸν ἐρχόμενον, its recipients promising a believing preparation for the
expected Messiah; how then could Jesus, if he was conscious of being
himself the ἐρχόμενος, submit himself to this baptism? The usual answer
from the orthodox point of view is, that Jesus, although conscious of
his Messiahship, yet, so long as it was not publicly attested by God,
spoke and acted, not as Messiah, but merely as an Israelite, who held
himself bound to obey every divine ordinance relative to his nation.
[606] But, here, there is a distinction to be made. Negatively, it
became Jesus to refrain from performing any messianic deeds, or using
any of the Messiah’s prerogatives, before his title was solemnly
attested; even positively, it became him to submit himself to the
ordinances which were incumbent on every Israelite; but to join in a
new rite, which symbolized the expectation of another and a future
Messiah, could never, without dissimulation, be the act of one who was
conscious of being the actual Messiah himself. More recent theologians
have therefore wisely admitted, that when Jesus came to John for
baptism, he had not a decided conviction of his Messiahship. [607] They
indeed regard this uncertainty as only the struggle of modesty. Paulus,
for instance, observes that Jesus, notwithstanding he had heard from
his parents of his messianic destination, and had felt this first
intimation confirmed by many external incidents, as well as by his own
spiritual development, was yet not over eager to appropriate the
honour, which had been as it were thrust upon him. But, if the previous
narratives concerning Jesus be regarded as a history, and therefore, of
necessity, as a supernatural one; then must he, who was heralded by
angels, miraculously conceived, welcomed into the world by the homage
of magi and prophets, and who in his twelfth year knew the temple to be
his Father’s house, have long held a conviction of his Messiahship,
above all the scruples of a false modesty. If on the contrary it be
thought possible, by criticism, to reduce the history of the childhood
of Jesus to a merely natural one, there is no longer anything to
account for his early belief that he was the Messiah; and the position
which he adopted by the reception of John’s baptism becomes, instead of
an affected diffidence, a real ignorance of his messianic destiny.—Too
modest, continue these commentators, to declare himself Messiah on his
own authority, Jesus fulfilled all that the strictest self-judgment
could require, and wished to make the decisive experiment, whether the
Deity would allow that he, as well as every other, should dedicate
himself to the coming Messiah, or whether a sign would be granted, that
he himself was the ἐρχόμενος. But to do something seen to be
inappropriate, merely to try whether God will correct the mistake, is
just such a challenging of the divine power as Jesus, shortly after his
baptism, decidedly condemns. Thus it must be allowed that, the baptism
of John being a baptism εἰς τὸν ἐρχόμενον, if Jesus could submit
himself to it without dissimulation or presumption, he could not at the
time have held himself to be that ἐρχόμενος, and if he really uttered
the words οὕτω πρέπον ἐστὶ, κ.τ.λ., Suffer it to be so now, etc.
(which, however, could only be called forth by the refusal of the
Baptist—a refusal that stands or falls with his previous conviction of
the Messiahship of Jesus), he could only mean by them, that it became
him, with every pious Israelite, to devote himself by anticipation to
the expected Messiah, in baptism, although the Evangelist, instructed
by the issue, put on them a different construction.

But the relation hitherto discussed is only one aspect of John’s
baptism; the other, which is yet more strongly attested by history,
shows it as a βάπτισμα μετανοίας, a baptism of repentance. The
Israelites, we are told, Matt. iii. 6, were baptized of John,
confessing their sins: shall we then suppose that Jesus made such a
confession? They received the command to repent: did Jesus acknowledge
such a command? This difficulty was felt even in the early church. In
the Gospel of the Hebrews, adopted by the Nazarenes, Jesus asks his
mother and brother, when invited by them to receive John’s baptism,
wherein he had sinned, that this baptism was needful for him? [608] and
an heretical apocryphal work appears to have attributed to Jesus a
confession of his own sins at his baptism. [609]

The sum of what modern theologians have contributed towards the removal
of this difficulty, consists in the application to Jesus of the
distinction between what a man is as an individual, and what he is as a
member of the community. He needed, say they, no repentance on his own
behalf, but, aware of its necessity for all other men, the children of
Abraham not excepted, he wished to demonstrate his approval of an
institute which confirmed this truth, and hence he submitted to it. But
let the reader only take a nearer view of the facts. According to Matt.
iii. 6, John appears to have required a confession of sins previous to
baptism; such a confession Jesus, presupposing his impeccability, could
not deliver without falsehood; if he refused, John would hardly baptize
him, for he did not yet believe him to be the Messiah, and from every
other Israelite he must have considered a confession of sins
indispensable. The non-compliance of Jesus might very probably
originate the dispute to which Matthew gives a wholly different
character; but certainly, if the refusal of John had such a cause, the
matter could scarcely have been adjusted by a mere suffer it to be so
now, for no confession being given, the Baptist would not have
perceived that all righteousness was fulfilled. Even supposing that a
confession was not required of every baptized person, John would not
conclude the ceremony of baptism without addressing the neophyte on the
subject of repentance. Could Jesus tacitly sanction such an address to
himself, when conscious that he needed no regeneration? and would he
not, in so doing, perplex the minds which were afterwards to believe in
him as the sinless one? We will even abandon the position that John so
addressed the neophytes, and only urge that the gestures of those who
plunged into the purifying water must have been those of contrition;
yet if Jesus conformed himself to these even in silence, without
referring them to his own condition, he cannot be absolved from the
charge of dissimulation.

There is then no alternative but to suppose, that as Jesus had not, up
to the time of his baptism, thought of himself as the Messiah, so with
regard to the μετάνοια (repentance), he may have justly ranked himself
amongst the most excellent in Israel, without excluding himself from
what is predicated in Job iv. 18, xv. 15. There is little historical
ground for controverting this; for the words, which of you convinceth
me of sin? (John viii. 46) could only refer to open delinquencies, and
to a later period in the life of Jesus. The scene in his twelfth year,
even if historical, could not by itself prove a sinless development of
his powers.

§ 50.

THE SCENE AT THE BAPTISM OF JESUS CONSIDERED AS SUPERNATURAL AND AS
NATURAL.

At the moment that John had completed his baptism of Jesus, the
synoptical gospels tell us that the heavens were opened, the Holy
Spirit descended on Jesus in the form of a dove, and a voice from
heaven designated him the Son of God, in whom the Father was well
pleased. The fourth Evangelist (i. 32 ff.) makes the Baptist narrate
that he saw the Holy Spirit descend like a dove, and remain on Jesus;
but as in the immediate context John says of his baptism, that it was
destined for the manifestation of the Messiah, and as the description
of the descending dove corresponds almost verbally with the synoptical
accounts, it is not to be doubted that the same event is intended. The
old and lost Gospels of Justin and the Ebionites give, as concomitants,
a heavenly light, and a flame bursting out of the Jordan; [610] in the
dove and heavenly voice also, they have alterations, hereafter to be
noticed. For whose benefit the appearance was granted, remains doubtful
on a comparison of the various narratives. In John, where the Baptist
recites it to his followers, these seem not to have been eye-witnesses;
and from his stating that he who sent him to baptize, promised the
descent and repose of the Spirit as a mark of the Messiah, we gather
that the appearance was designed specially for the Baptist. According
to Mark it is Jesus, who, in ascending from the water, sees the heavens
open and the Spirit descend. Even in Matthew it is the most natural to
refer εἶδε, he saw, and ἀνεῴχθησαν αὐτῷ, were opened to him, to ὁ
Ἰησοῦς, Jesus, the subject immediately before; but as it is said, in
continuation, that he saw the Holy Spirit ἐρχόμενον ἐπ’ αὐτὸν, not εφ’
αὑτὸν (Mark’s ἐπ’ αὐτὸν, which does not agree with his construction, is
explained by his dependence on Matthew), the beholder seems not to be
the same as he on whom the Spirit descended, and we are obliged to
refer εἶδε and ἀνεῴχθησαν αὐτῷ to the more remote antecedent, namely
the Baptist, who, as the heavenly voice speaks of Jesus in the third
person, is most naturally to be regarded as also a witness. Luke
appears to give a much larger number of spectators to the scene, for
according to him, Jesus was baptized ἐν τῷ βαπτισθῆναι ἅπαντα τὸν λαὸν,
when all the people were baptized, and consequently he must have
supposed that the scene described occurred in their presence. [611]

The narrations directly convey no other meaning, than that the whole
scene was externally visible and audible, and thus they have been
always understood by the majority of commentators. But in endeavouring
to conceive the incident as a real one, a cultivated and reflecting
mind must stumble at no insignificant difficulties. First, that for the
appearance of a divine being on earth, the visible heavens must divide
themselves, to allow of his descent from his accustomed seat, is an
idea that can have no objective reality, but must be the entirely
subjective creation of a time when the dwelling-place of Deity was
imagined to be above the vault of heaven. Further, how is it
reconcilable with the true idea of the Holy Spirit as the divine,
all-pervading Power, that he should move from one place to another,
like a finite being, and embody himself in the form of a dove? Finally,
that God should utter articulate tones in a national idiom, has been
justly held extravagant. [612]

Even in the early church, the more enlightened fathers adopted the
opinion, that the heavenly voices spoken of in the biblical history
were not external sounds, the effect of vibrations in the air, but
inward impressions produced by God in the minds of those to whom he
willed to impart himself: thus of the appearance at the baptism of
Jesus, Origen and Theodore of Mopsuestia maintain that it was a vision,
and not a reality, ὀπτασία, οὐ φύσις. [613] To the simple indeed, says
Origen, in their simplicity, it is a light thing to set the universe in
motion, and to sever a solid mass like the heavens; but those who
search more deeply into such matters, will, he thinks, refer to those
higher revelations, by means of which chosen persons, even waking, and
still more frequently in their dreams, are led to suppose that they
perceive something with their bodily senses, while their minds only are
affected: so that consequently, the whole appearance in question should
be understood, not as an external incident, but as an inward vision
sent by God; an interpretation which has also met with much approbation
among modern theologians.

In the first two Gospels and in the fourth, this interpretation is
favoured by the expressions, were opened to him, ἀνεῴχθησαν αὐτῷ, he
saw, εἶδε, and I beheld, τεθέαμαι, which seem to imply that the
appearance was subjective, in the sense intended by Theodore, when he
observes that the descent of the Holy Spirit was not seen by all
present, but that, by a certain spiritual contemplation, it was visible
to John alone, οὐ πᾶσιν ὤφθη τοῖς παροῦσιν, ἀλλὰ κατά τινα πνευματικὴν
θεωρίαν ὤφθη μόνῳ τῷ Ἰωάννῃ: to John however we must add Jesus, who,
according to Mark, participated in the vision. But in opposition to
this stands the statement of Luke: the expressions which he uses,
ἐγένετο—ἀνεῳχθῆναι—καὶ καταβῆναι—καὶ φωνὴν—γενέσθαι, it came to
pass—was opened—and descended—and a voice came, bear a character so
totally objective and exterior, [614] especially if we add the words,
in a bodily form, σωματικῷ εἴδει, that (abiding by the notion of the
perfect truthfulness of all the evangelical records) the less explicit
narratives must be interpreted by the unequivocal one of Luke, and the
incident they recount must be understood as something more than an
inward revelation to John and Jesus. Hence it is prudent in Olshausen
to allow, in concession to Luke, that there was present on the occasion
a crowd of persons, who saw and heard something, yet to maintain that
this was nothing distinct or comprehensible. By this means, on the one
hand, the occurrence is again transferred from the domain of subjective
visions to that of objective phenomena; while on the other, the
descending dove is supposed visible, not to the bodily eye, but only to
the open spiritual one, and the words audible to the soul, not to the
bodily ear. Our understanding fails us in this pneumatology of
Olshausen, wherein there are sensible realities transcending the
senses; and we hasten out of this misty atmosphere into the clearer one
of those, who simply tell us, that the appearance was an external
incident, but one purely natural.

This party appeals to the custom of antiquity, to regard natural
occurrences as divine intimations, and in momentous crises, where a
bold resolution was to be taken, to adopt them as guides. To Jesus,
spiritually matured into the Messiah, and only awaiting an external
divine sanction, and to the Baptist who had already ceded the
superiority to the friend of his youth, in their solemn frame of mind
at the baptism of the former by the latter, every natural phenomenon
that happened at the time, must have been pregnant with meaning, and
have appeared as a sign of the divine will. But what the natural
appearance actually was, is a point on which the commentators are
divided in opinion. Some, with the synoptical writers, include a sound
as well as an appearance; others give, with John, an appearance only.
They interpret the opening of the heavens, as a sudden parting of the
clouds, or a flash of lightning; the dove they consider as a real bird
of that species, which by chance hovered over the head of Jesus; or
they assume that the lightning or some meteor was compared to a dove,
from the manner of its descent. They who include a sound as a part of
the machinery in the scene, suppose a clap of thunder, which was
imagined by those present to be a Bath Kol, and interpreted into the
words given by the first Evangelist. Others, on the contrary,
understand what is said of audible words, merely as an explanation of
the visible sign, which was regarded as an attestation that Jesus was
the Son of God. This last opinion sacrifices the synoptical writers,
who undeniably speak of an audible voice, to John, and thus contains a
critical doubt as to the historical character of the narratives, which,
consistently followed out, leads to quite other ground than that of the
naturalistic interpretation. If the sound was mere thunder, and the
words only an interpretation put upon it by the bystanders; then, as in
the synoptical accounts, the words are evidently supposed to have been
audibly articulated, we must allow that there is a traditional
ingredient in these records. So far as the appearance is concerned, it
is not to be denied that the sudden parting of clouds, or a flash of
lightning, might be described as an opening of heaven; but in nowise
could the form of a dove be ascribed to lightning or a meteor. The form
is expressly the point of comparison in Luke only, but it is doubtless
so intended by the other narrators; although Fritzsche contends that
the words like a dove, ὡσεὶ περιστερὰν, in Matthew refer only to the
rapid motion. The flight of the dove has nothing so peculiar and
distinctive, that, supposing this to be the point of comparison, there
would not be in any of the parallel passages a variation, a
substitution of some other bird, or an entirely new figure. As, instead
of this, the mention of the dove is invariable through all the four
gospels, the simile must turn upon something exclusively proper to the
dove, and this can apparently be nothing but its form. Hence those
commit the least violence on the text, who adopt the supposition of a
real dove. Paulus, however, in so doing, incurred the hard task of
showing by a multitude of facts from natural history and other sources,
that the dove might be tame enough to fly towards a man; [615] how it
could linger so long over one, that it might be said, ἔμεινεν ἐπ’
αὐτὸν, it abode upon him, he has not succeeded in explaining, and he
thus comes into collision with the narrative of John, by which he had
sustained his supposition of the absence of a voice. [616]

§ 51.

AN ATTEMPT AT A CRITICISM AND MYTHICAL INTERPRETATION OF THE
NARRATIVES.

If then a more intelligible representation of the scene at the baptism
of Jesus is not to be given, without doing violence to the evangelical
text, or without supposing it to be partially erroneous, we are
necessarily driven to a critical treatment of the accounts; and indeed,
according to De Wette and Schleiermacher, [617] this is the prevalent
course in relation to the above point in the evangelical history. From
the narrative of John, as the pure source, it is sought to derive the
synoptical accounts, as turbid streams. In the former, it is said,
there is no opening heaven, no heavenly voice; only the descent of the
Spirit is, as had been promised, a divine witness to John that Jesus is
the Messiah; but in what manner the Baptist perceived that the Spirit
rested on Jesus, he does not tell us, and possibly the only sign may
have been the discourse of Jesus.

One cannot but wonder at Schleiermacher’s assertion, that the manner in
which the Baptist perceived the descending Spirit is not given in the
fourth gospel, when here also the expression ὡσεὶ περιστερὰν, like a
dove, tells it plainly enough; and this particular marks the descent as
a visible one, and not a mere inference from the discourse of Jesus.
Usteri, indeed, thinks that the Baptist mentioned the dove, merely as a
figure, to denote the gentle, mild spirit which he had observed in
Jesus. But had this been all, he would rather have compared Jesus
himself to a dove, as on another occasion he did to a lamb, than have
suggested the idea of a sensible appearance by the picturesque
description, I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove. It is
therefore not true in relation to the dove, that first in the more
remote tradition given by the synoptical writers, what was originally
figurative, was received in a literal sense; for in this sense it is
understood by John, and if he have the correct account, the Baptist
himself must have spoken of a visible dove-like appearance, as Bleek,
Neander, and others, acknowledge.

While the alleged distinction in relation to the dove, between the
first three evangelists and the fourth, is not to be found; with
respect to the voice, the difference is so wide, that it is
inconceivable how the one account could be drawn from the other. For it
is said that the testimony which John gave concerning Jesus, after the
appearance: This is the Son of God (John i. 34), taken in connexion
with the preceding words: He that sent me to baptize, the same said
unto me, etc., became, in the process of tradition, an immediate
heavenly declaration, such as we see in Matthew: This is my beloved
Son, in whom I am well pleased. Supposing such a transformation
admissible, some instigation to it must be shown. Now in Isaiah xlii.
1, Jehovah says of his servant: ‏הֵן עַבְדִּי אֶתְמָךְ־בּוֹ בְּחִירִי רָצֲתָה נַפְשִׁי‎;
words which, excepting those between the parentheses, are almost
literally translated by the declaration of the heavenly voice in
Matthew. We learn from Matt. xii. 17 ff. that this passage was applied
to Jesus as the Messiah; and in it God himself is the speaker, as in
the synoptical account of the baptism. Here then was what would much
more readily prompt the fiction of a heavenly voice, than the
expressions of John. Since, therefore, we do not need a misapprehension
of the Baptist’s language to explain the story of the divine voice, and
since we cannot use it for the derivation of the allusion to the dove;
we must seek for the source of our narrative, not in one of the
evangelical documents, but beyond the New Testament,—in the domain of
cotemporary ideas, founded on the Old Testament, the total neglect of
which has greatly diminished the value of Schleiermacher’s critique on
the New Testament.

To regard declarations concerning the Messiah, put by poets into the
mouth of Jehovah, as real, audible voices from heaven, was wholly in
the spirit of the later Judaism, which not seldom supposed such vocal
communications to fall to the lot of distinguished rabbins, [618] and
of the messianic prejudices, which the early Christians both shared
themselves, and were compelled, in confronting the Jews, to satisfy. In
the passage quoted from Isaiah, there was a divine declaration, in
which the present Messiah was pointed to as it were with the finger,
and which was therefore specially adapted for a heavenly annunciation
concerning him. How could the spirit of Christian legend be slow to
imagine a scene, in which these words were audibly spoken from heaven
of the Messiah. But we detect a farther motive for such a
representation of the case by observing, that in Mark and Luke, the
heavenly voice addresses Jesus in the second person, and by comparing
the words which, according to the Fathers, were given in the old and
lost gospels as those of the voice. Justin, following his Memoirs of
the Apostles, ἀπομνημονεύματα τῶν ἀποστόλων, thus reports them: υἱός
μου εἶ σύ. ἐγὼ σήμερον γεγέννηκα σε; [619] Thou art my Son, this day
have I begotten thee. In the Gospel of the Hebrews, according to
Epiphanius; [620] this declaration was combined with that which our
Gospels contain. Clement of Alexandria [621] and Augustin [622] seem to
have read the words even in some copies of the latter; and it is at
least certain that some of our present manuscripts of Luke have this
addition. [623] Here were words uttered by the heavenly voice, drawn,
not from Isaiah, but from Psalm ii. 7, a passage considered messianic
by Jewish interpreters; [624] in Heb. i. 5, applied to Christ; and,
from their being couched in the form of a direct address, containing a
yet stronger inducement to conceive it as a voice sent to the Messiah
from heaven. If then the words of the psalm were originally attributed
to the heavenly voice, or if they were only taken in connexion with the
passage in Isaiah (as is probable from the use of the second person, σὺ
εἶ, in Mark and Luke, since this form is presented in the psalm, and
not in Isaiah), we have a sufficient indication that this text, long
interpreted of the Messiah, and easily regarded as an address from
heaven to the Messiah on earth, was the source of our narrative of the
divine voice, heard at the baptism of Jesus. To unite it with the
baptism, followed as a matter of course, when this was held to be a
consecration of Jesus to his office.

We proceed to the descent of the Spirit in the form of a dove. In this
examination we must separate the descent of the Spirit from the form of
the dove, and consider the two particulars apart. That the Divine
Spirit was to rest in a peculiar measure on the Messiah, was an
expectation necessarily resulting from the notion, that the messianic
times were to be those of the outpouring of the Spirit upon all flesh
(Joel iii. 1 ff.); and in Isaiah xi. 1 f. it was expressly said of the
stem of Jesse, that the spirit of the Lord would rest on it in all its
fulness, as the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, of might, and of
the fear of the Lord. The communication of the Spirit, considered as an
individual act, coincident with the baptism, had a type in the history
of David, on whom, when anointed by Samuel, the spirit of God came from
that day forward (1 Sam. xvi. 13). Further, in the Old Testament
phrases concerning the imparting of the Divine Spirit to men,
especially in that expression of Isaiah, ‏נוּחַ עִל־‎, which best
corresponds to the μένειν ἐπὶ of John, there already lay the germ of a
symbolical representation; for that Hebrew verb is applied also to the
halting of armies, or, like the parallel Arabic word, even of animals.
The imagination, once stimulated by such an expression, would be the
more strongly impelled to complete the picture by the necessity for
distinguishing the descent of the Spirit on the Messiah,—in the Jewish
view, from the mode in which it was imparted to the prophets (e.g.
Isaiah lxi. 1)—in the Christian view, from its ordinary communication
to the baptized (e.g. Acts xix. 1 ff). [625] The position being once
laid down that the Spirit was to descend on the Messiah, the question
immediately occurred: How would it descend? This was necessarily
decided according to the popular Jewish idea, which always represented
the Divine Spirit under some form or other. In the Old Testament, and
even in the New (Acts ii. 3), fire is the principal symbol of the Holy
Spirit; but it by no means follows that other sensible objects were not
similarly used. In an important passage of the Old Testament (Gen. i.
2), the Spirit of God is described as hovering (‏מְרַחֶפֶת‎), a word which
suggests, as its sensible representation, the movement of a bird,
rather than of fire. Thus the expression ‏רָחַף‎, Deut. xxxii. 11, is
used of the hovering of a bird over its young. But the imagination
could not be satisfied with the general figure of a bird; it must have
a specific image, and everything led to the choice of the dove.

In the East, and especially in Syria, the dove is a sacred bird, [626]
and it is so for a reason which almost necessitated its association
with the Spirit moving on the face of the primitive waters (Gen. i. 2).
The brooding dove was a symbol of the quickening warmth of nature;
[627] it thus perfectly represented the function which, in the Mosaic
cosmogony, is ascribed to the Spirit of God,—the calling forth of the
world of life from the chaos of the first creation. Moreover, when the
earth was a second time covered with water, it is a dove, sent by Noah,
which hovers over its waves, and which, by plucking an olive leaf, and
at length finally disappearing, announces the renewed possibility of
living on the earth. Who then can wonder that in Jewish writings, the
Spirit hovering over the primeval waters is expressly compared to a
dove, [628] and that, apart from the narrative under examination, the
dove is taken as a symbol of the Holy Spirit? [629] How near to this
lay the association of the hovering dove with the Messiah, on whom the
dove-like spirit was to descend, is evident, without our having
recourse to the Jewish writings, which designate the Spirit hovering
over the waters, Gen. i. 2, as the Spirit of the Messiah, [630] and
also connect with him its emblem, the Noachian dove. [631]

When, in this manner, the heavenly voice, and the Divine Spirit
down-hovering like a dove, gathered from the cotemporary Jewish ideas,
had become integral parts of the Christian legend concerning the
circumstances of the baptism of Jesus; it followed, of course, that the
heavens should open themselves, for the Spirit, once embodied, must
have a road before it could descend through the vault of heaven. [632]

The result of the preceding inquiries, viz., that the alleged
miraculous circumstances of the baptism of Jesus have merely a mythical
value, might have been much more readily obtained, in the way of
inference from the preceding chapter; for if, according to that, John
had not acknowledged Jesus to be the Messiah, there could have been no
appearances at the baptism of Jesus, demonstrative to John of his
Messiahship. We have, however, established the mythical character of
the baptismal phenomena, without presupposing the result of the
previous chapter; and thus the two independently obtained conclusions
may serve to strengthen each other.

Supposing all the immediate circumstances of the baptism of Jesus
unhistorical, the question occurs, whether the baptism itself be also a
mere mythus. Fritzsche seems not disinclined to the affirmative, for he
leaves it undecided whether the first Christians knew historically, or
only supposed, in conformity with their messianic expectations, that
Jesus was consecrated to his messianic office by John, as his
forerunner. This view may be supported by the observation, that in the
Jewish expectation, which originated in the history of David, combined
with the prophecy of Malachi, there was adequate inducement to assume
such a consecration of Jesus by the Baptist, even without historical
warrant; and the mention of John’s baptism in relation to Jesus (Acts
i. 22), in a narrative, itself traditional, proves nothing to the
contrary. Yet, on the other hand, it is to be considered that the
baptism of Jesus by John furnishes the most natural basis for an
explanation of the messianic project of Jesus. When we have two
cotemporaries, of whom one announces the proximity of the Messiah’s
kingdom, and the other subsequently assumes the character of Messiah;
the conjecture arises, even, without positive information, that they
stood in a relation to each other—that the latter owed his idea to the
former. If Jesus had the messianic idea excited in him by John, yet, as
is natural, only so far that he also looked forward to the advent of
the messianic individual, whom he did not, in the first instance,
identify with himself; he would most likely submit himself to the
baptism of John. This would probably take place without any striking
occurrences; and Jesus, in no way announced by it as the Baptist’s
superior, might, as above remarked, continue for some time to demean
himself as his disciple.

If we take a comparative retrospect of our evangelical documents, the
pre-eminence which has of late been sought for the fourth gospel
appears totally unmerited. The single historical fact, the baptism of
Jesus by John, is not mentioned by the fourth Evangelist, who is
solicitous about the mythical adjuncts alone, and these he in reality
gives no more simply than the synoptical writers, his omission of the
opening heaven excepted; for the divine speech is not wanting in his
narrative, if we read it impartially. In the words, i. 33: He that sent
me to baptize with water, the same said unto me, Upon whom thou shalt
see the Spirit descending, and remaining on him, the same is he which
baptizeth with the Holy Ghost, we have not only substantially the same
purport as that conveyed by the heavenly voice in the synoptical
gospels, but also a divine declaration; the only difference being, that
here John is addressed exclusively, and prior to the baptism of Jesus.
This difference originated partly in the importance which the fourth
Evangelist attached to the relation between the Baptist and Jesus, and
which required that the criteria of the messianic individual, as well
as the proximity of his kingdom, should have been revealed to John at
his call to baptize; and it might be partly suggested by the narrative
in 1 Sam. xvi., according to which Samuel, being sent by Jehovah to
anoint a king selected from the sons of Jesse, is thus admonished by
Jehovah on the entrance of David: Arise and anoint him, for this is he
(v. 12). The descent of the Spirit, which in David’s case follows his
consecration, is, by the fourth Evangelist, made an antecedent sign of
the Messiahship of Jesus.

§ 52.

RELATION OF THE SUPERNATURAL AT THE BAPTISM OF JESUS TO THE
SUPERNATURAL IN HIS CONCEPTION.

At the commencement of this chapter, we enquired into the subjective
views of Jesus in his reception of John’s baptism, or the idea which he
entertained of its relation to his own character. We close this
discussion with an inquiry into the objective purpose of the miracles
at the baptism of Jesus, or the mode in which they were to subserve the
manifestation of his messiahship.

The common answer to such an inquiry is, that Jesus was thereby
inducted to his public office, and declared to be the Messiah, [633]
i.e. that nothing was conferred on him, and that simply the character
which he already possessed was manifested to others. But, it may be
asked, is such an abstraction intended by our narrators? A consecration
to an office, effected by divine co-operation, was ever considered by
antiquity as a delegation of divine powers for its fulfilment; hence,
in the Old Testament, the kings, as soon as they are anointed, are
filled with the spirit of God (1 Sam. x. 6, 10, xvi. 13); and in the
New Testament also, the apostles, before entering on their vocation,
are furnished with supernatural gifts (Acts ii.). It may, therefore, be
beforehand conjectured, that according to the original sense of the
Gospels, the consecration of Jesus at his baptism was attended with a
supply of higher powers; and this is confirmed by an examination of our
narratives. For the synoptical writers all state, that after the
baptism, the Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness, obviously marking
this journey as the first effect of the higher principle infused at his
baptism: and in John, the words μένειν ἐπ’ αὐτὸν, applied to the
descending Spirit, seem to intimate, that from the time of the baptism
there was a relation not previously subsisting, between the πνεῦμα
ἅγιον and Jesus.

This interpretation of the marvels at the baptism of Jesus seems in
contradiction with the narratives of his conception. If Jesus, as
Matthew and Luke state, was conceived by the Holy Ghost; or if, as John
propounds, the divine λόγος, the word, was made flesh in him, from the
beginning of his earthly existence; why did he yet need, at his
baptism, a special intromission of the πνεῦμα ἅγιον? Several modern
expositors have seen, and sought to solve, this difficulty. Olshausen’s
explanation consists in the distinction between the potential and the
actual; but it is self-contradictory. [634] For if the character of the
Χριστὸς which was manifested actû, with the ripened manhood of Jesus,
at his baptism, was already present potentiâ in the child and youth;
there must have also been an inward principle of development, by means
of which his powers would gradually unfold themselves from within,
instead of being first awakened by a sudden illapse of the Spirit from
without. This, however, does not preclude the possibility that the
divine principle, existing in Jesus, as supernaturally conceived, from
the moment of his birth, might need, owing to the human form of its
development, some impulse from without; and Lücke [635] has more justly
proceeded on this contrast between external impulse and inward
development. The λόγος, present in Jesus from his birth, needed, he
thinks, however strong might be the inward bent, some external stimulus
and vivification, in order to arrive at full activity and manifestation
in the world; and that which awakens and guides the divine life-germ in
the world is, on apostolic showing, the πνεῦμα ἅγιον. Allowing this,
yet the inward disposition and the requisite force of the outward
stimulus stand in an inverse relation to each other; so that the
stronger the outward stimulus required, the weaker is the inward
disposition; but in a case where the inward disposition is
consummate,—as it must be supposed in Jesus, engendered by the Spirit,
or animated by the λόγος,—the exterior impulse ought to be a minimum,
that is, every circumstance, even the most common, might serve as a
determination of the inward tendency. But at the baptism of Jesus we
see the maximum of exterior impulse, in the visible descent of the
divine Spirit; and although we allow for the special nature of the
messianic task, for the fulfilment of which he must be qualified, [636]
yet the maximum of inward disposition, which fitted him to be the υἱὸς
Θεοῦ, cannot at the same time be supposed as existing in him from his
birth: a consequence which Lücke only escapes, by reducing the
baptismal scene to a mere inauguration, thus, as has been already
shown, contradicting the evangelical records.

We must here give a similar decision to that at which we arrived
concerning the genealogies; viz., that in that circle of the early
Christian church, in which the narrative of the descent of the πνεῦμα
on Jesus at his baptism was formed, the idea that Jesus was generated
by the same πνεῦμα cannot have prevailed; and while, at the present
day, the communication of the divine nature to Jesus is thought of as
cotemporary with his conception, those Christians must have regarded
his baptism as the epoch of such communication. In fact, those
primitive Christians whom, in a former discussion, we found to have
known nothing, or to have believed nothing, of the supernatural
conception of Jesus, were also those who connected the first
communication of divine powers to Jesus with his baptism in the Jordan.
For no other doctrine did the orthodox fathers of the church more
fiercely persecute the ancient Ebionites, [637] with their gnostic
fellow-believer Cerinthus, [638] than for this: that the Holy Spirit
first united himself with Jesus at his baptism. In the Gospel of the
Ebionites it was written that the πνεῦμα not only descended on Jesus in
the form of a dove, but entered into him; [639] and according to
Justin, it was the general expectation of the Jews, that higher powers
would first be granted to the Messiah, when he should be anointed by
his forerunner Elias. [640]

The development of these ideas seems to have been the following. When
the messianic dignity of Jesus began to be acknowledged among the Jews,
it was thought appropriate to connect his coming into possession of the
requisite gifts, with the epoch from which he was in some degree known,
and which, from the ceremony that marked it, was also best adapted to
represent that anointing with the Holy Spirit, expected by the Jews for
their Messiah: and from this point of view was formed the legend of the
occurrences at the baptism. But as reverence for Jesus was heightened,
and men appeared in the Christian church who were acquainted with more
exalted messianic ideas, this tardy manifestation of messiahship was no
longer sufficient; his relation with the Holy Spirit was referred to
his conception: and from this point of view was formed the tradition of
the supernatural conception of Jesus. Here too, perhaps, the words of
the heavenly voice, which might originally be those of Ps. ii. 7, were
altered after Isaiah xlii. 1. For the words, σήμερον γεγέννηκα σε, This
day have I begotten thee, were consistent with the notion that Jesus
was constituted the Son of God at his baptism; but they were no longer
suitable to that occasion, when the opinion had arisen that the origin
of his life was an immediate divine act. By this later representation,
however, the earlier one was by no means supplanted, but, on the
contrary, tradition and her recorders being large-hearted, both
narratives—that of the miracles at the baptism, and that of the
supernatural conception, or the indwelling of the λόγος in Jesus from
the commencement of his life, although, strictly, they exclude each
other, went forth peaceably side by side, and so were depicted by our
Evangelists, not excepting even the fourth. Just as in the case of the
genealogies: the narrative of the imparting of the Spirit at the
baptism could not arise after the formation of the idea that Jesus was
engendered by the Spirit; but it might be retained as a supplement,
because tradition is ever unwilling to renounce any of its acquired
treasures.

§ 53.

PLACE AND TIME OF THE TEMPTATION OF JESUS. DIVERGENCIES OF THE
EVANGELISTS ON THIS SUBJECT.

The transition from the baptism to the temptation of Jesus, as it is
made by the synoptical writers, is attended with difficulty in relation
both to place and time.

With respect to the former, it strikes us at once, that according to
all the synoptical gospels, Jesus after his baptism was led into the
wilderness to be tempted, implying that he was not previously in the
wilderness, although, according to Matt. iii. 1, John, by whom he was
baptized, exercised his ministry there. This apparent contradiction has
been exposed by the most recent critic of Matthew’s gospel, for the
sake of proving the statement that John baptized in the wilderness to
be erroneous. [641] But they who cannot resolve to reject this
statement on grounds previously laid down, may here avail themselves of
the supposition, that John delivered his preliminary discourses in the
wilderness of Judea, but resorted to the Jordan for the purpose of
baptizing; or, if the banks of the Jordan be reckoned part of that
wilderness, of the presumption that the Evangelists can only have
intended that the Spirit led Jesus farther into the recesses of the
wilderness, but have neglected to state this with precision, because
their description of the scene at the baptism had obliterated from
their imagination their former designation of the locality of John’s
agency.

But there is, besides, a chronological difficulty: namely, that while,
according to the synoptical writers, Jesus, in the plenitude of the
Spirit, just communicated to him at the Jordan, betakes himself, in
consequence of that communication, for forty days to the wilderness,
where the temptation occurs, and then returns into Galilee; John, on
the contrary, is silent concerning the temptation, and appears to
suppose an interval of a few days only, between the baptism of Jesus
and his journey into Galilee; thus allowing no space for a six weeks’
residence in the wilderness. The fourth Evangelist commences his
narrative with the testimony which the Baptist delivers to the
emissaries of the Sanhedrim (i. 19); the next day (τῇ ἐπαύριον) he
makes the Baptist recite the incident which in the synoptical gospels
is followed by the baptism (v. 29): again, the next day (τῇ ἐπαύριον)
he causes two of his disciples to follow Jesus (v. 35); farther, the
next day (τῇ ἐπαύριον, v. 44), as Jesus is on the point of journeying
into Galilee, Philip and Nathanael join him; and lastly, on the third
day, τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ τρίτῃ (ii. 1), Jesus is at the wedding in Cana of
Galilee. The most natural inference is, that the baptism took place
immediately before John’s narrative of its attendant occurrences, and
as according to the synoptical gospels the temptation followed close on
the baptism, both these events must be inserted between v. 28 and 29,
as Euthymius supposed. But between that which is narrated down to v.
28, and the sequel from v. 29 inclusive, there is only the interval of
a morrow, ἐπαύριον, while the temptation requires a period of forty
days; hence, expositors have thought it necessary to give ἐπαύριον the
wider sense of ὕστερον afterwards; this however is inadmissible,
because the expression τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ τρίτῃ, the third day, follows in
connexion with ἐπαύριον, and restricts its meaning to the morrow. We
might therefore be inclined, with Kuinöl, to separate the baptism and
the temptation, to place the baptism after v. 28, and to regard the
next day’s interview between Jesus and John (v. 29) as a parting visit
from the former to the latter: inserting after this the journey into
the wilderness and the temptation. But without insisting that the first
three Evangelists seem not to allow even of a day’s interval between
the baptism and the departure of Jesus into the wilderness, yet even
later we have the same difficulty in finding space for the forty days.
For it is no more possible to place the residence in the wilderness
between the supposed parting visit and the direction of the two
disciples to Jesus, that is between v. 34 and 35, as Kuinöl attempts,
than between v. 28 and 29, since the former as well as the latter
passages are connected by τῇ ἐπαύριον, on the morrow. Hence we must
descend to v. 43 and 44; but here also there is only the interval of a
morrow, and even chap. ii. 1, we are shut out by an ἡμέρα τρίτη, third
day, so that, proceeding in this way, the temptation would at last be
carried to the residence of Jesus in Galilee, in direct opposition to
the statement of the synoptical writers; while, in further
contradiction to them, the temptation is placed at a farther and
farther distance from the baptism. Thus neither at v. 29, nor below it,
can the forty days’ residence of Jesus in the wilderness with the
temptation be intercalated: and it must therefore be referred,
according to the plan of Lücke and others, [642] to the period before
v. 19, which seems to allow of as large an interpolation as can be
desired, inasmuch as the fourth Evangelist there commences his history.
Now it is true that what follows from v. 19 to 28 is not of a kind
absolutely to exclude the baptism and temptation of Jesus as earlier
occurrences; but from v. 29 to 34, the Evangelist is far from making
the Baptist speak as if there had been an interval of six weeks between
the baptism and his narrative of its circumstances. [643] That the
fourth Evangelist should have omitted, by chance merely, the history of
the temptation, important as it was in the view of the other
Evangelists, seems improbable: it is rather to be concluded, either
that it was dogmatically offensive to him, so that he omitted it
designedly, or that it was not current in the circle of tradition from
which he drew his materials.

The period of forty days is assigned by all three of the synoptical
writers for the residence of Jesus in the wilderness; but to this
agreement is annexed the not inconsiderable discrepancy, that,
according to Matthew, the temptation by the devil commences after the
lapse of the forty days, while, according to the others, it appears to
have been going forward during this time; for the words of Mark (i.
13), he was in the wilderness forty days tempted of Satan, ἦν ἐν τῇ
ἐρήμῳ ἡμέρας τεσσαράκοντα πειραζόμενος ὑπὸ τοῦ Σατανᾶ, and the similar
ones of Luke i. 2, can have no other meaning. Added to this, there is a
difference between the two latter evangelists; Mark only placing the
temptation generally within the duration of forty days, without naming
the particular acts of the tempter, which according to Matthew, were
subsequent to the forty days; while Luke mentions both the prolonged
temptation (πειράζεσθαι) of the forty days, and the three special
temptations (πειρασμοὶ) which followed. [644] It has been thought
possible to make the three accounts tally by supposing that the devil
tempted Jesus during the forty days, as Mark states; that after the
lapse of that time he approached him with the three temptations given
by Matthew; and that Luke’s narrative includes the whole. [645]
Further, the temptations have been distinguished into two kinds; that
which is only generally mentioned, as continued through the forty days,
being considered invisible, like the ordinary attempts of Satan against
men; and the three particularized temptations being regarded as
personal and visible assaults, resorted to on the failure of the first.
[646] But this distinction is evidently built on the air; moreover, it
is inconceivable why Luke should not specify one of the temptations of
the forty days, and should only mention the three subsequent ones
detailed by Matthew. We might conjecture that the three temptations
narrated by Luke did not occur after the six weeks, but were given by
way of specimen from among the many that took place during that time;
and that Matthew misunderstood them to be a sequel to the forty days’
temptation. [647] But the challenge to make stones bread must in any
case be placed at the end of that period, for it appealed to the hunger
of Jesus, arising from a forty days’ fast (a cause omitted by Mark
alone). Now in Luke also this is the first temptation, and if this
occurred at the close of the forty days, the others could not have been
earlier. For it is not to be admitted that the separate temptations
being united in Luke merely by καὶ, and not by τότε and πάλιν as in
Matthew, we are not bound to preserve the order of them, and that
without violating the intention of the third Evangelist we may place
the second and third temptation before the first. Thus Luke is
convicted of a want of historical fact; for after representing Jesus as
tempted by the devil forty days, he has no details to give concerning
this long period, but narrates later temptations; hence we are not
inclined, with the most recent critic of Matthew’s Gospel, to regard
Luke’s as the original, and Matthew’s as the traditional and
adulterated narrative. [648] Rather, as in Mark the temptation is
noticed without farther details than that it lasted forty days, and in
Matthew the particular cases of temptation are narrated, the hunger
which induced the first rendering it necessary to place them after the
forty days; Luke has evidently the secondary statement, for he unites
the two previous ones in a manner scarcely tolerable, giving the forty
days’ process of temptation, and then superfluously bringing forward
particular instances as additional facts. It is not on this account to
be concluded that Luke wrote after Mark, and in dependence on him; but
supposing, on the contrary, that Mark here borrowed from Luke, he
extracted only the first and general part of the latter Evangelist’s
narrative, having ready, in lieu of the farther detail of single
temptations, an addition peculiar to himself; namely, that Jesus,
during his residence in the wilderness was μετὰ τῶν θηρίων, with the
wild beasts.

What was Mark’s object in introducing the wild beasts, it is difficult
to say. The majority of expositors are of opinion that he intended to
complete the terrible picture of the wilderness; [649] but to this it
is not without reason objected, that the clause would then have been in
closer connexion with the words ἦν ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ, he was in the
wilderness, instead of being placed after πειραζόμενος, tempted. [650]
Usteri has hazarded the conjecture that this particularity may be
designed to mark Christ as the antitype of Adam, who, in Paradise, also
stood in a peculiar relation to the animals, [651] and Olshausen has
eagerly laid hold on this mystical notion; but it is an interpretation
which finds little support in the context. Schleiermacher, in
pronouncing this feature of Mark’s narrative extravagant, [652]
doubtless means that this Evangelist here, as in other instances of
exaggeration, borders on the style of the apocryphal gospels, for whose
capricious fictions we are not seldom unable to suggest a cause or an
object, and thus we must rest contented, for the present, to penetrate
no farther into the sense of his statement.

With respect to the difference between Matthew and Luke in the
arrangement of the several temptations, we must equally abide by
Schleiermacher’s criticism and verdict, namely, that Matthew’s order
seems to be the original, because it is founded on the relative
importance of the temptations, which is the main consideration,—the
invitation to worship Satan, which is the strongest temptation, being
made the final one; whereas the arrangement of Luke looks like a later
and not very happy transposition, proceeding from the
consideration—alien to the original spirit of the narrative—that Jesus
could more readily go with the devil from the wilderness to the
adjacent mountain and from thence to Jerusalem, than out of the
wilderness to the city and from thence back again to the mountain.
[653] While the first two Evangelists close their narrative of the
temptation with the ministering of angels to Jesus, Luke has a
conclusion peculiar to himself, namely, that the devil left Jesus for a
season, ἄχρι καιροῦ (v. 13), apparently intimating that the sufferings
of Jesus were a farther assault of the devil; an idea not resumed by
Luke, but alluded to in John xiv. 30.

§ 54.

THE HISTORY OF THE TEMPTATION CONCEIVED IN THE SENSE OF THE
EVANGELISTS.

Few evangelical passages have undergone a more industrious criticism,
or more completely run through the circle of all possible
interpretations, than the history in question. For the personal
appearance of the devil, which it seems to contain, was a thorn which
would not allow commentators to repose on the most obvious
interpretation, but incessantly urged them to new efforts. The series
of explanations hence resulting, led to critical comparisons, among
which those of Schmidt, [654] Fritzsche, [655] and Usteri, [656] seem
to have carried the inquiry to its utmost limits.

The first interpretation that suggests itself on an unprejudiced
consideration of the text is this; that Jesus was led by the Divine
Spirit received at his baptism into the wilderness, there to undergo a
temptation by the devil, who accordingly appeared to him visibly and
personally, and in various ways, and at various places to which he was
the conductor, prosecuted his purpose of temptation; but meeting with a
victorious resistance, he withdrew from Jesus, and angels appeared to
minister to him. Such is the simple exegesis of the narrative, but
viewed as a history it is encumbered with difficulties.

To take the portions of the narrative in their proper order: if the
Divine Spirit led Jesus into the wilderness with the design of exposing
him to temptation, as Matthew expressly says, ἀνήχθη εἰς τὴν ἔρημον ὑπὸ
τοῦ Πνεύματος, πειρασθῆναι (iv. 1), of what use was this temptation?
That it had a vicarious and redeeming value will hardly be maintained,
or that it was necessary for God to put Jesus to a trial; neither can
it be consistently shown that by this temptation Jesus was to be made
like us, and, according to Heb. iv. 15, tempted in all things like as
we are; for the fullest measure of trial fell to his share in after
life, and a temptation, effected by the devil in person, would rather
make him unlike us, who are spared such appearances.

The forty days’ fast, too, is singular. One does not understand how
Jesus could hunger after six weeks of abstinence from all food without
having hungered long before; since in ordinary cases the human frame
cannot sustain a week’s deprivation of nourishment. It is true,
expositors [657] console themselves by calling the forty days a round
number, and by supposing that the expression of Matthew, νηστεύσας, and
even that of Luke, οὐκ ἔφαγεν οὐδὲν, are not to be taken strictly, and
do not denote abstinence from all food, but only from that which is
customary, so that the use of roots and herbs is not excluded. On no
supposition, however, can so much be subtracted from the forty days as
to leave only the duration of a conceivable fast; and that nothing
short of entire abstinence from all nourishment was intended by the
Evangelists Fritzsche has clearly shown, by pointing out the parallel
between the fast of Jesus and that of Moses and Elias, the former of
whom is said to have eaten no bread and drunk no water for forty days
(Exod. xxxiv. 28; Deut. ix. 9, 18), and the latter to have gone for the
same period in the strength of a meal taken before his journey (1 Kings
xix. 8). But such a fast wants the credentials of utility, as well as
of possibility. From the context it appears, that the fast of Jesus was
prompted by the same Spirit which occasioned his journey to the
wilderness, and which now moved him to a holy self-discipline, whereby
men of God, under the old dispensation, purified themselves, and became
worthy of divine visions. But it could not be hidden from that Spirit,
that Satan, in attacking Jesus, would avail himself of this very fast,
and make the hunger thence arising an accomplice in his temptation. And
was not the fast, in this case, a kind of challenge to Satan, an act of
presumption, ill becoming even the best warranted self-confidence?
[658]

But the personal appearance of the devil is the great stumbling-block
in the present narrative. If, it is said, there be a personal devil, he
cannot take a visible form; and if that were possible, he would hardly
demean himself as he is represented to have done in the gospels. It is
with the existence of the devil as with that of angels—even the
believers in a revelation are perplexed by it, because the idea did not
spring up among the recipients of revelation, but was transplanted by
them, during exile, from a profane soil. [659] Moreover, to those who
have not quite shut out the lights of the present age, the existence of
a devil is become in the highest degree doubtful.

On this subject, as well as on that of angels, Schleiermacher may serve
as an interpreter of modern opinion. He shows that the idea of a being
such as the devil, is an assemblage of contradictions: that as the idea
of angels originated in a limited observation of nature, so that of the
devil originated in a limited observation of self, and as our knowledge
of human nature progresses, must recede farther into the background,
and the appeal to the devil be henceforth regarded as the resource of
ignorance and sloth. [660] Even admitting the existence of a devil, a
visible and personal appearance on his part, such as is here supposed,
has its peculiar difficulties. Olshausen himself observes, that there
is no parallel to it either in the Old or New Testament. Farther, if
the devil, that he might have some hope of deceiving Jesus, abandoned
his own form, and took that of a man, or of a good angel; it may be
reasonably asked whether the passage, 2 Cor. xi. 14, Satan is
transformed into an angel of light, be intended literally, and if so,
whether this fantastic conception can be substantially true? [661]

As to the temptations, it was early asked by Julian, how the devil
could hope to deceive Jesus, knowing, as he must, his higher nature?
[662] And Theodore’s answer that the divinity of Jesus was then unknown
to the devil, is contradicted by the observation, that had he not then
beheld a higher nature in Jesus, he would scarcely have taken the
trouble to appear specially to him in person. In relation to the
particular temptations, an assent cannot be withheld from the canon,
that, to be credible, the narrative must ascribe nothing to the devil
inconsistent with his established cunning. [663] Now the first
temptation, appealing to hunger, we grant, is not ill-conceived; if
this were ineffectual, the devil, as an artful tactician, should have
had a yet more alluring temptation at hand; but instead of this, we
find him, in Matthew, proposing to Jesus the neck-breaking feat of
casting himself down from the pinnacle of the temple—a far less
inviting experiment than the metamorphosis of the stones. This
proposition finding no acceptance, there follows, as a crowning effort,
a suggestion which, whatever might be the bribe, every true Israelite
would instantly reject with abhorrence—to fall down and worship the
devil. So indiscreet a choice and arrangement of temptations has thrown
most modern commentators into perplexity. [664] As the three
temptations took place in three different and distant places, the
question occurs: how did Jesus pass with the devil from one to the
other? Even the orthodox hold that this change of place was effected
quite naturally, for they suppose that Jesus set out on a journey, and
that the devil followed him. [665] But the expressions, the devil takes
him—sets him, παραλαμβάνει—ἵστησιν αὐτὸν ὁ διάβολος, in Matthew:
taking, ἀναγαγών, brought, ἤγαγεν, set, ἔστησεν, in Luke, obviously
imply that the transportation was effected by the devil, and moreover,
the particular given in Luke, that the devil showed Jesus all the
kingdoms of the world in a moment of time, points to something magical;
so that without doubt the Evangelists intended to convey the idea of
magical transportations, as in Acts viii. 29, a power of carrying away,
ἁρπάζειν, is attributed to the Spirit of the Lord. But it was early
found irreconcilable with the dignity of Jesus that the devil should
thus exercise a magical power over him, and carry him about in the air;
[666] an idea which seemed extravagant even to those who tolerated the
personal appearance of the devil. The incredibility is augmented, when
we consider the sensation which the appearance of Jesus on the roof of
the temple must have excited, even supposing it to be the roof of
Solomon’s Porch only, in which case the gilded spears on the holy of
holies, and the prohibition to laymen to tread its roof, would not be
an obstacle. [667] The well-known question suggested by the last
temptation, as to the situation of the mountain, from whose summit may
be seen all the kingdoms of the world, has been met by the information
that κόσμος here means no more than Palestine, and βασιλείας, its
several kingdoms and tetrarchies; [668] but this is a scarcely less
ludicrous explanation than the one that the devil showed Jesus all the
kingdoms of the world on a map! No answer remains but that such a
mountain existed only in the ancient idea of the earth as a plain, and
in the popular imagination, which can easily stretch a mountain up to
heaven, and sharpen an eye to penetrate infinity.

Lastly, the incident with which our narrative closes, namely, that
angels came and ministered to Jesus, is not without difficulty, apart
from the above-mentioned doubts as to the existence of such beings. For
the expression διηκόνουν can signify no other kind of ministering than
that of presenting food; and this is proved not only by the context,
according to which Jesus had need of such tendance, but by a comparison
of the circumstances with 1 Kings xix. 5, where an angel brings food to
Elijah. But of the only two possible suppositions, both are equally
incongruous: that ethereal beings like angels should convey earthly
material food, or that the human body of Jesus should be nourished with
heavenly substances, if any such exist.

§ 55.

THE TEMPTATION CONSIDERED AS A NATURAL OCCURRENCE EITHER INTERNAL OR
EXTERNAL; AND ALSO AS A PARABLE.

The impossibility of conceiving the sudden removals of Jesus to the
temple and the mountain, led some even of the ancient commentators to
the opinion, that at least the locality of the second and third
temptations was not present to Jesus corporeally and externally, but
merely in a vision; [669] while some modern ones, to whom the personal
appearance of the devil was especially offensive, have supposed that
the whole transaction with him passed from beginning to end within the
recesses of the soul of Jesus. Herewith they have regarded the forty
days’ fast either as a mere internal representation [670] (which,
however, is a most inadmissible perversion of the plainly historic
text: νηστεύσας ἡμέρας τεσσαράκοντα ὕστερον ἐπείνασε, Matt. iv. 2), or
as a real fact, in which case the formidable difficulties mentioned in
the preceding section remain valid. The internal representation of the
temptations is by some made to accompany a state of ecstatic vision,
for which they retain a supernatural cause, deriving it either from
God, or from the kingdom of darkness: [671] others ascribe to the
vision more of the nature of a dream, and accordingly seek a natural
cause for it, in the reflections with which Jesus was occupied during
his waking moments. [672] According to this theory, Jesus, in the
solemn mood which the baptismal scene was calculated to produce,
reviews his messianic plan, and together with the true means for its
execution, he recalls their possible abuses; an excessive use of
miracles and a love of domination, by which man, in the Jewish mode of
thinking, became, instead of an instrument of God, a promoter of the
plans of the devil. While surrendering himself to such meditations, his
finely organized body is overcome by their exciting influence; he sinks
for some time into deep exhaustion, and then into a dream-like state,
in which his mind unconsciously embodies his previous thoughts in
speaking and acting forms.

To support this transference of the whole scene to the inward nature of
Jesus, commentators think that they can produce some features of the
evangelical narrative itself. The expression of Matthew (iv. 1), ἀνήχθη
εἰς τὴν ἔρημον ὑπὸ τοῦ Πνεύματος, and still more that of Luke (iv. 1),
ἤγετο ἐν τῷ Πνεύματι, correspond fully to the forms: ἐγενόμην ἐν
πνεύματι, Rev. i. 10, ἀπήνενκέ με εἰς ἔρημον ἐν πνεύματι, xvii. 3, and
to similar ones in Ezekiel; and as in these passages inward intuition
is alone referred to, neither in the evangelical ones, it is said, can
any external occurrence be intended. But it has been with reason
objected, [673] that the above forms may be adapted either to a real
external abduction by the Divine Spirit (as in Acts viii. 39; 2 Kings
ii. 16), or to one merely internal and visionary, as in the quotation
from the Apocalypse, so that between these two possible significations
the context must decide; that in works replete with visions, as are the
Apocalypse and Ezekiel, the context indeed pronounces in favour of a
merely spiritual occurrence; but in an historical work such as our
gospels, of an external one. Dreams, and especially visions, are always
expressly announced as such in the historical books of the New
Testament: supposing, therefore, that the temptation was a vision, it
should have been introduced by the words εἶδεν ἐν ὁράματι, ἐν ἔκστάσει,
as in Acts ix. 12, x. 10; or ἐφάνη αὐτῷ κατ’ ὄναρ, as in Matt. i. 20,
ii. 13. Besides, if a dream had been narrated, the transition to a
continuation of the real history must have been marked by a διεγερθεὶς,
being awaked, as in Matt. i. 24, ii. 14, 21; whereby, as Paulus truly
says, much labour would have been spared to expositors.

It is further alleged against the above explanations, that Jesus does
not seem to have been at any other time subject to ecstasies, and that
he nowhere else attaches importance to a dream, or even recapitulates
one. [674] To what end God should have excited such a vision in Jesus,
it is difficult to conceive, or how the devil should have had power and
permission to produce it; especially in Christ. The orthodox, too,
should not forget that, admitting the temptation to be a dream,
resulting from the thoughts of Jesus, the false messianic ideas which
were a part of those thoughts, are supposed to have had a strong
influence on his mind. [675]

If, then, the history of the temptation is not to be understood as
confined to the soul of Jesus, and if we have before shown that it
cannot be regarded as supernatural; nothing seems to remain but to view
it as a real, yet thoroughly natural, event, and to reduce the tempter
to a mere man. After John had drawn attention to Jesus as the Messiah
(thinks the author of the Natural History of the Prophet of Nazareth),
[676] the ruling party in Jerusalem commissioned an artful Pharisee to
put Jesus to the test, and to ascertain whether he really possessed
miraculous powers, or whether he might not be drawn into the interest
of the priesthood, and be induced to give his countenance to an
enterprise against the Romans. This conception of the διάβολος is in
dignified consistency with that of the ἄγγελοι, who appeared after his
departure, to refresh Jesus, as an approaching caravan with provisions,
or as soft reviving breezes. [677] But this view, as Usteri says, has
so long completed its phases in the theological world, that to refute
it would be to waste words.

If the foregoing discussions have proved that the temptation, as
narrated by the synoptical Evangelists, cannot be conceived as an
external or internal, a supernatural or natural occurrence, the
conclusion is inevitable, that it cannot have taken place in the manner
represented.

The least invidious expedient is to suppose that the source of our
histories of the temptation was some real event in the life of Jesus,
so narrated by him to his disciples as to convey no accurate impression
of the fact. Tempting thoughts, which intruded themselves into his soul
during his residence in the wilderness, or at various seasons, and
under various circumstances, but which were immediately quelled by the
unimpaired force of his will, were, according to the oriental mode of
thought and expression, represented by him as a temptation of the
devil; and this figurative narrative was understood literally. [678]
The most prominent objection to this view, that it compromises the
impeccability of Jesus, [679] being founded on a dogma, has no
existence for the critic: we can, however, gather from the tenor of the
evangelical history, that the practical sense of Jesus was thoroughly
clear and just; but this becomes questionable, if he could ever feel an
inclination corresponding to the second temptation in Matthew, or even
if he merely chose such a form for communicating a more reasonable
temptation to his disciples. Further, in such a narrative Jesus would
have presented a confused mixture of fiction and truth out of his life,
not to be expected from an ingenuous teacher, as he otherwise appears
to be, especially if it be supposed that the tempting thoughts did not
really occur to him after his forty days’ sojourn in the wilderness,
and that this particular is only a portion of the fictitious
investiture; while if it be assumed, on the contrary, that the date is
historical, there remains the forty days’ fast, one of the most
insurmountable difficulties of the narrative. If Jesus wished simply to
describe a mental exercise in the manner of the Jews, who, tracing the
effect to the cause, ascribed evil thoughts to diabolical agency,
nothing more was requisite than to say that Satan suggested such and
such thoughts to his mind; and it was quite superfluous to depict a
personal devil and a journey with him, unless, together with the
purpose of narration, or in its stead, there existed a poetical and
didactic intention.

Such an intention, indeed, is attributed to Jesus by those who hold
that the history of the temptation was narrated by him as a parable,
but understood literally by his disciples. This opinion is not
encumbered with the difficulty of making some real inward experience of
Jesus the basis of the history; [680] it does not suppose that Jesus
himself underwent such temptations, but only that he sought to secure
his disciples from them, by impressing on them, as a compendium of
messianic and apostolic wisdom, the three following maxims: first to
perform no miracle for their own advantage even in the greatest
exigency; secondly, never to venture on a chimerical undertaking in the
hope of extraordinary divine aid; thirdly, never to enter into
fellowship with the wicked, however strong the enticement. [681] It was
long ago observed, in opposition to this interpretation, that the
narrative is not easily recognized as a parable, and that its moral is
hard to discern. [682] With respect to the latter objection, it is true
that the second temptation would be an ill-chosen image; but the former
remark is the more important one. To prove that this narrative has not
the characteristics of a parable, the following definition has been
recently given: a parable, being essentially historical in its form, is
only distinguishable from real history when its agents are of an
obviously fictitious character. [683] This is the case where the
subjects are mere generalizations, as in the parables of the sower, the
king, and others of a like kind; or when they are, indeed,
individualized, but so as to be at once recognized as unhistorical
persons, as mere supports for the drapery of fiction, of which even
Lazarus, in the parable of the rich man, is an example, though
distinguished by a name. In neither species of parable is it admissible
to introduce as a subject a person corporeally present, and necessarily
determinate and historical. Thus Jesus could not make Peter or any
other of his disciples the subject of a parable, still less himself,
for the reciter of a parable is pre-eminently present to his auditors;
and hence he cannot have delivered the history of the temptation, of
which he is the subject, to his disciples as a parable. To assume that
the history had originally another subject, for whom oral tradition
substituted Jesus, is inadmissible, because the narrative, even as a
parable, has no definite significance unless the Messiah be its
subject. [684]

If such a parable concerning himself or any other person, could not
have been delivered by Jesus, yet it is possible that it was made by
some other individual concerning Jesus; and this is the view taken by
Theile, who has recently explained the history of the temptation as a
parabolic admonition, directed by some partisan of Jesus against the
main features of the worldly messianic hope, with the purpose of
establishing the spiritual and moral view of the new economy. [685]
Here is the transition to the mythical point of view, which the above
theologian shuns, partly because the narrative is not sufficiently
picturesque (though it is so in a high degree); partly because it is
too pure (though he thus imputes false ideas to the primitive
Christians); and partly because the formation of the mythus was too
near the time of Jesus (an objection which must be equally valid
against the early misconstruction of the parable). If it can be shown,
on the contrary, that the narrative in question is formed less out of
instructive thoughts and their poetical clothing, as is the case with a
parable, than out of Old Testament passages and types, we shall not
hesitate to designate it a mythus.

§ 56.

THE HISTORY OF THE TEMPTATION AS A MYTHUS.

Satan, the evil being and enemy of mankind, borrowed from the Persian
religion, was by the Jews, whose exclusiveness limited all that was
good and truly human to the Israelitish people, viewed as the special
adversary of their nation, and hence as the lord of the heathen states
with whom they were in hostility. [686] The interests of the Jewish
people being centred in the Messiah, it followed that Satan was
emphatically his adversary; and thus throughout the New Testament we
find the idea of Jesus as the Messiah associated with that of Satan as
the enemy of his person and cause. Christ having appeared to destroy
the works of the devil (1 John iii. 8), the latter seizes every
opportunity of sowing tares among the good seed (Matt. xiii. 39), and
not only aims, though unsuccessfully, at obtaining the mastery over
Jesus himself (John xiv. 30), but continually assails the faithful
(Eph. vi. 11; 1 Pet. v. 8). As these attacks of the devil on the pious
are nothing else than attempts to get them into his power, that is, to
entice them to sin; and as this can only be done by the indirect
suggestion or immediate insinuation of evil, seductive thoughts, Satan
had the appellation of ὁ πειράζων, the tempter. In the prologue to the
book of Job, he seeks to seduce the pious man from God, by the
instrumentality of a succession of plagues and misfortunes: while the
ensnaring counsel which the serpent gave to the woman was early
considered an immediate diabolical suggestion. (Wisdom ii. 24; John
viii. 44; Rev. xii. 9.)

In the more ancient Hebrew theology, the idea was current that
temptation (‏נִסָּה‎, LXX. πειράζειν) was an act of God himself, who thus
put his favourites, as Abraham (Gen. xxii. 1), and the people of Israel
(Exod. xvi. 4, and elsewhere), to the test, or in just anger even
instigated men to pernicious deeds. But as soon as the idea of Satan
was formed, the office of temptation was transferred to him, and
withdrawn from God, with whose absolute goodness it began to be viewed
as incompatible (James i. 13). Hence it is Satan, who by his
importunity obtains the divine permission to put Job to the severest
trial through suffering; hence David’s culpable project of numbering
the people, which in the second book of Samuel was traced to the anger
of God, is in the later chronicles (1 Chron. xxii. 1) put directly to
the account of the devil; and even the well-meant temptation with
which, according to Genesis, God visited Abraham, in requiring from him
the sacrifice of his son, was in the opinion of the later Jews,
undertaken by God at the instigation of Satan. [687] Nor was this
enough—scenes were imagined in which the devil personally encountered
Abraham on his way to the place of sacrifice, and in which he tempted
the people of Israel during the absence of Moses. [688]

If the most eminent men of piety in Hebrew antiquity were thus tempted,
in the earlier view, by God, in the later one, by Satan, what was more
natural than to suppose that the Messiah, the Head of all the
righteous, the representative and champion of God’s people, would be
the primary object of the assaults of Satan? [689] And we find this
actually recorded as a rabbinical opinion, [690] in the material mode
of representation of the later Judaism, under the form of a bodily
appearance and a personal dialogue.

If a place were demanded where Satan might probably undertake such a
temptation of the Messiah, the wilderness would present itself from
more than one quarter. Not only had it been from Azazel (Lev. xvi.
8–10), and Asmodeus (Tobit viii. 3), to the demons ejected by Jesus
(Matt. xii. 43), the fearful dwelling-place of the infernal powers: it
was also the scene of temptation for the people of Israel, that filius
Dei collectivus. [691] Added to this, it was the habit of Jesus to
retire to solitary places for still meditation and prayer (Matt. xiv.
13; Mark i. 35; Luke vi. 12; John vi. 15); to which after his
consecration to the messianic office he would feel more than usually
disposed. It is hence possible that, as some theologians [692] have
supposed, a residence of Jesus in the wilderness after his baptism
(though not one of precisely forty days’ duration) served as the
historical foundation of our narrative; but even without this
connecting thread, both the already noticed choice of place and that of
time are to be explained by the consideration, that it seemed consonant
with the destiny of the Messiah that, like a second Hercules, he should
undergo such a trial on his entrance into mature age and the messianic
office.

But what had the Messiah to do in the wilderness? That the Messiah, the
second Saviour, should like his typical predecessor, Moses, on Mount
Sinai, submit himself to the holy discipline of fasting, was an idea
the more inviting, because it furnished a suitable introduction to the
first temptation which presupposed extreme hunger. The type of Moses
and that of Elias (1 Kings xix. 8), determined also the duration of
this fast in the wilderness, for they too had fasted forty days;
moreover, the number forty was held sacred in Hebrew antiquity. [693]
Above all, the forty days of the temptation of Jesus seem, as Olshausen
justly observes, a miniature image of the forty years’ trial in the
wilderness, endured by the Israelitish people as a penal emblem of the
forty days spent by the spies in the land of Canaan (Num. xiv. 34).
For, that in the temptations of Jesus there was a special reference to
the temptation of Israel in the wilderness, is shown by the
circumstance that all the passages cited by Jesus in opposition to
Satan are drawn from the recapitulatory description of the journeyings
of the Israelites in Deut. vi. and viii. The apostle Paul too, 1 Cor.
x. 6, enumerates a series of particulars from the behaviour of the
Israelites in the wilderness, with the consequent judgments of God, and
warns Christians against similar conduct, pronouncing, v. 6 and 11, the
punishments inflicted on the ancients to be types for the admonition of
the living, his cotemporaries, on whom the ends of the world were come;
wherefore, he adds, let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he
fall. It is not probable that this was merely the private opinion of
the apostle—it seems rather to have been a current notion that the hard
trials of the people led by Moses, as well as of Moses individually,
were types of those which awaited the followers of the Messiah in the
catastrophe which he was to usher in, and still more emphatically the
Messiah himself, who here appears as the antitype of the people,
gloriously overcoming all the temptations under which they had fallen.

The Israelites were principally tempted by hunger during their
wanderings in the wilderness; [694] hence the first temptation of the
Messiah was determined beforehand. The rabbins, too, among the various
temptations of Abraham which they recount, generally reckon hunger.
[695] That Satan, when prompting Jesus to seek relief from his hunger
by an exertion of his own will instead of awaiting it in faith from
God, should make use of the terms given in our Evangelists, cannot be
matter of surprise if we consider, not only that the wilderness was
stony, but that to produce a thing from stones was a proverbial
expression, denoting the supply of an object altogether wanting (Matt.
iii. 9; Luke xix. 40), and that stone and bread formed a common
contrast (Matt. vii. 9). The reply of Jesus to this suggestion is in
the same train of ideas on which the entire first act of temptation is
constructed; for he quotes the lesson which, according to Deuteronomy
viii. 3, the people of Israel tardily learned from the temptation of
hunger (a temptation, however, under which they were not resigned, but
were provoked to murmur): namely, that man shall not live by bread
alone, etc.

But one temptation would not suffice. Of Abraham the rabbins enumerated
ten; but this number was too large for a dramatic narrative like that
in the gospels, and among lower numbers the sacred three must have the
preference. Thrice during his spiritual contest in Gethsemane Jesus
severed himself from his disciples (Matt. xxvi.); thrice Peter denied
his Lord, and thrice Jesus subsequently questioned his love (John
xxi.). In that rabbinical passage which represents Abraham as tempted
by the devil in person, the patriarch parries three thrusts from him;
in which particular, as well as in the manner in which Old Testament
texts are bandied by the parties, the scene is allied to the
evangelical one. [696]

The second temptation (in Matthew) was not determined by its relation
to the preceding; hence its presentation seems abrupt, and the choice
fortuitous or capricious. This may be true with respect to its form,
but its substantial meaning is in close connexion with the foregoing
temptation, since it also has reference to the conduct of the Jewish
people in the wilderness. To them the warning was given in Deut vi. 16
to tempt God no more as they had tempted him at Massah; a warning which
was reiterated 1 Cor. x. 9 to the members of the new covenant, though
more in allusion to Num. xxi. 4. To this crying sin, therefore, under
which the ancient people of God had fallen, must the Messiah be
incited, that by resisting the incitement he might compensate, as it
were, for the transgression of the people. Now the conduct which was
condemned in them as a tempting of the Lord, ἐκπειράζειν Κύριον, was
occasioned by a dearth of water, and consisted in their murmurs at this
deprivation. This, to later tradition, did not seem fully to correspond
to the terms; something more suitable was sought for, and from this
point of view there could hardly be a more eligible choice than the one
we actually find in our history of the temptation, for nothing can be
more properly called a tempting of God than so audacious an appeal to
his extraordinary succour, as that suggested by Satan in his second
temptation. The reason why a leap from the pinnacle of the temple was
named as an example of such presumption, is put into the mouth of Satan
himself.

It occurred to the originator of this feature in the narrative, that
the passage Ps. xci. 11 was capable of perversion into a motive for a
rash act. It is there promised to one dwelling under the protection of
Jehovah (a designation under which the Messiah was pre-eminently
understood), that angels should bear him up in their hands, lest at any
time he should dash his foot against a stone. Bearing up in their hands
to prevent a fall, seemed to imply a precipitation from some eminence,
and this might induce the idea that the divinely-protected Messiah
might hurl himself from a height with impunity. But from what height?
There could be no hesitation on this point. To the pious man, and
therefore to the head of all the pious, is appropriated, according to
Ps. xv. 1, xxiv. 3, the distinction of going up to Jehovah’s holy hill,
and standing within his holy place: hence the pinnacle of the temple,
in the presumptuous mode of inference supposed, might be regarded as
the height whence the Messiah could precipitate himself unhurt.

The third temptation which Jesus underwent—to worship the devil—is not
apparent among the temptations of God’s ancient people. But one of the
most fatal seductions by which the Israelites were led astray in the
wilderness was that of idolatry; and the apostle Paul adduces it as
admonitory to Christians. Not only is this sin derived immediately from
the devil in a passage above quoted; [697] but in the later Jewish
idea, idolatry was identical with the worship of the devil (Baruch iv.
7; 1 Cor. x. 20). How, then, could the worship of the devil be
suggested to the Messiah in the form of a temptation? The notion of the
Messiah as he who, being the King of the Jewish people, was destined to
be lord of all other nations, and that of Satan as the ruler of the
heathen world [698] to be conquered by the Messiah, were here combined.
That dominion over the world which, in the christianized imagination of
the period, the Messiah was to obtain by a long and painful struggle,
was offered him as an easy bargain if he would only pay Satan the
tribute of worship. This temptation Jesus meets with the maxim
inculcated on the Israelites, Deut. vi. 13, that God alone is to be
worshipped, and thus gives the enemy a final dismissal.

Matthew and Mark crown their history of the temptation with the
appearance of angels to Jesus, and their refreshing him with
nourishment after his long fast and the fatigues of temptation. This
incident was prefigured by a similar ministration to Elijah after his
forty days’ fast, and was brought nearer to the imagination by the
circumstance that the manna which appeased the hunger of the people in
the wilderness was named, ἄρτος ἀγγέλων, angels’ food (Ps. lxxviii. 25,
LXX.; Wisdom xvi. 20). [699]

CHAPTER III.

LOCALITY AND CHRONOLOGY OF THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS.

§ 57.

DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE SYNOPTICAL WRITERS AND JOHN, AS TO THE CUSTOMARY
SCENE OF THE MINISTRY OF JESUS.

According to the synoptical writers, Jesus, born indeed at Bethlehem in
Judea, but brought up at Nazareth in Galilee, only absented himself
from Galilee during the short interval between his baptism and the
imprisonment of the Baptist; immediately after which, he returned
thither and began his ministry, teaching, healing, calling disciples,
so as to traverse all Galilee; using as the centre of his agency, his
previous dwelling-place, Nazareth, alternately with Capernaum, on the
north-west border of the lake of Tiberias (Matt iv. 12–25 parall.).
Mark and Luke have many particulars concerning this ministry in Galilee
which are not found in Matthew, and those which they have in common
with him are arranged in a different order; but as they all agree in
the geographical circuit which they assign to Jesus, the account of the
first Evangelist may serve as the basis of our criticism. According to
him the incidents narrated took place in Galilee, and partly in
Capernaum down to viii. 18, where Jesus crosses the Galilean sea, but
is scarcely landed on the east side when he returns to Capernaum. Here
follows a series of scenes connected by short transitions, such as
παράγων ἐκεῖθεν (ix. 9, 27), passing from thence, τότε (v. 14), then,
ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος (v. 18), while he spake these things; expressions
which can imply no important change of place, that is, of one province
for another, which it is the habit of the writer to mark much more
carefully. The passage, ix. 35, περιῆγεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς τὰς πόλεις
πάσας—διδάσκων ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς αὐτῶν, is evidently only a repetition
of iv. 23, and is therefore to be understood merely of excursions in
Galilee. The message of the Baptist (chap. xi.) is also received by
Jesus in Galilee, at least such appears to be the opinion of the
narrator, from his placing in immediate connexion the complaints of
Jesus against the Galilean cities. When delivering the parable in chap.
xiii. Jesus is by the sea, doubtless that of Galilee, and, as there is
mention of his house, οἰκία (v. 1), probably in the vicinity of
Capernaum. Next, after having visited his native city Nazareth (xiii.
53) he passes over the sea (xiv. 13), according to Luke (ix. 10), into
the country of Bethsaida (Julias); whence, however, after the miracle
of the loaves, he speedily returns to the western border (xiv. 34).
Jesus then proceeds to the northern extremity of Palestine, on the
frontiers of Phœnicia (xv. 21); soon, however, returned to the sea of
Galilee (v. 29), he takes ship to the eastern side, in the coast of
Magdala (v. 39), but again departs northward into the country of
Cæsarea Philippi (xvi. 13), in the vicinity of Lebanon, among the lower
ridges of which is to be sought the mount of the transfiguration (xvii.
1). After journeying in Galilee for some time longer with his disciples
(xvii. 22), and once more visiting Capernaum (v. 24), he leaves Galilee
(xix. 1) to travel (as it is most probably explained) [700] through
Perea into Judea (a journey which, according to Luke ix. 52, he seems
to have made through Samaria); xx. 17, he is on his way to Jerusalem;
v. 29, he comes through Jericho; and xxi. 1, is in the neighbourhood of
Jerusalem, which, v. 10, he enters.

Thus, according to the synoptical writers, Jesus, from his return after
being baptized by John, to his final journey to Jerusalem, never goes
beyond the limits of North Palestine, but traverses the countries west
and east of the Galilean sea and the upper Jordan, in the dominions of
Herod Antipas and Philip, without touching on Samaria to the south,
still less Judea, or the country under the immediate administration of
the Romans. And within those limits, to be still more precise, it is
the land west of the Jordan, and the sea of Tiberias, and therefore
Galilee, the province of Antipas, in which Jesus is especially active;
only three short excursions on the eastern border of the sea, and two
scarcely longer on the northern frontiers of the country, being
recorded.

Quite otherwise is the theatre of the ministry of Jesus marked out in
the fourth gospel. It is true that here also he goes after his baptism
by John into Galilee, to the wedding at Cana (ii. 1), and from thence
to Capernaum (v. 12); but in a few days the approaching passover calls
him to Jerusalem (v. 13). From Jerusalem he proceeds into the country
of Judea (iii. 22), and after some time exercising his ministry there
(iv. 1) he returns through Samaria into Galilee (v. 43). Nothing is
reported of his agency in this province but a single cure, and
immediately on this a new feast summons him to Jerusalem (v. 1), where
he is represented as performing a cure, being persecuted, and
delivering long discourses, until he betakes himself (vi. 1) to the
eastern shore of the sea of Tiberias, and from thence to Capernaum (v.
17, 59). He then itinerates for some time in Galilee (vii. 1), but
again leaves it, on occasion of the feast of tabernacles, for Jerusalem
(v. 2, 10). To this visit the Evangelist refers many discourses and
vicissitudes of Jesus (vii. 10, x. 21), and moreover connects with it
the commencement of his public ministry at the feast of dedication,
without noticing any intermediate journey out of Jerusalem and Judea
(x. 22). After this Jesus again retires into the country of Perea,
where he had first been with the Baptist (x. 40), and there remains
until the death of Lazarus recalls him to Bethany, near Jerusalem (xi.
1), whence he withdraws to Ephraim, in the vicinity of the wilderness
of Judea, until the approach of the passover, which he visited as his
last (xii. 1 ff.).

Thus, according to John, Jesus was present at four feasts in Jerusalem,
before the final one: was besides once in Bethany, and had been active
for a considerable time in Judea and on his journey through Samaria.

Why, it must be asked, have the synoptical writers been silent on this
frequent presence of Jesus in Judea and Jerusalem? Why have they
represented the matter, as if Jesus, before his last fatal journey to
Jerusalem, had not overstepped the limits of Galilee and Perea? This
discrepancy between the synoptical writers and John was long overlooked
in the church, and of late it has been thought feasible to deny its
existence. It has been said, that Matthew, at the commencement, lays
the scene in Galilee and Capernaum, and pursues his narrative without
noticing any journey into Judea until the last; but that we are not
hence to conclude that Matthew was unacquainted with the earlier
ministry of Jesus in Judea, for as with this Evangelist the local
interest is subordinate to the effort at an appropriate arrangement of
his events, many particulars in the former part of his history, which
he narrates without indicating any place, may have been known, though
not stated by him, to have occurred in the earlier journeys and
residences in Judea. [701] But this alleged subordination of the local
interest in Matthew, is nothing more than a fiction of the harmonist,
as Schneckenburger has recently proved. [702] Matthew very carefully
marks (chap. iv.) the beginning and (chap. xix.) the end of the almost
exclusive residence of Jesus in Galilee; all the intervening narration
must therefore be regarded as belonging to that residence, unless the
contrary be expressed; and since the Evangelist is on the alert to
notice the short excursions of Jesus across the lake and into the north
of Galilee, he would hardly pass over in silence the more important,
and sometimes prolonged visits to Judea, had they been known or
credited by him. Thus much only is to be allowed, that Matthew
frequently neglects the more precise statement of localities, as the
designation of the spot or neighbourhood in which Jesus laboured from
time to time: but in his more general biographical statements, such as
the designation of the territories and provinces of Palestine, within
the boundaries of which Jesus exercised his ministry, he is as accurate
as any other Evangelist.

Expositors must therefore accommodate themselves to the admission of a
difference between the synoptical writers and John, [703] and those who
think it incumbent on them to harmonize the Gospels must take care lest
this difference be found a contradiction; which can only be prevented
by deducing the discrepancy, not from a disparity between the ideas of
the Evangelists as to the sphere of the ministry of Jesus, but from the
difference of mental bias under which they severally wrote. Some
suppose that Matthew, being a Galilean, saw the most interest in
Galilean occurrences, and hence confined his narrative to them, though
aware of the agency of Jesus at Jerusalem. [704] But what biographer,
who had himself accompanied his hero into various provinces, and beheld
his labours there, would confine his narration to what he had performed
in his (the biographer’s) native province? Such provincial
exclusiveness would surely be quite unexampled. Hence others have
preferred the supposition that Matthew, writing at Jerusalem, purposely
selected from the mass of discourses and actions of Jesus with which he
was acquainted, those of which Galilee was the theatre, because they
were the least known at Jerusalem, and required narrating more than
what had happened within the hearing, and was fresh in the memories of
its inhabitants. [705] In opposition to this it has been already
remarked, [706] that there is no proof of Matthew’s gospel being
especially intended for the Christians of Judea and Jerusalem: that
even assuming this, a reference to the events which had happened in the
reader’s own country could not be superfluous: and that, lastly, the
like limitation of the ministry of Jesus to Galilee by Mark and Luke
cannot be thus accounted for, since these Evangelists obviously did not
write for Judea (neither were they Galileans, so that this objection is
equally valid against the first explanation); and were not in so
servile a relation to Matthew as to have no access to independent
information that might give them a more extended horizon. It is curious
enough that these two attempts to solve the contradiction between the
synoptical writers and John, are themselves in the same predicament of
mutual contradiction. For if Matthew has been silent on the incidents
in Judea, according to one, on account of his proximity, according to
the other, on account of his remoteness, it follows that, two contrary
hypotheses being made with equal ease to explain the same fact, both
are alike inadequate.

No supposition founded on the local relations of the writers sufficing
to explain the difference in question, higher ground must be taken, in
a consideration of the spirit and tendency of the evangelical writings.
From this point of view the following proposition has been given: The
cause which determined the difference in the contents of the fourth
gospel and that of the synoptical ones, accounts also for their
divergency as to the limits they assign to the ministry of Jesus; in
other words, the discourses delivered by Jesus in Jerusalem, and
recorded by John, required for their comprehension a more mature
development of Christianity than that presented in the first apostolic
period; hence they were not retained in the primitive evangelical
tradition, of which the synoptical writers were the organs, and were
first restored to the church by John, who wrote when Christianity was
in a more advanced stage. [707] But neither is this attempt at an
explanation satisfactory, though it is less superficial than the
preceding. For how could the popular and the esoteric in the teaching
of Jesus be separated with such nicety, that the former should be
confined to Galilee, and the latter to Jerusalem (the harsh discourse
in the synagogue at Capernaum alone excepted)? It may be said: in
Jerusalem he had a more enlightened public around him, and could be
more readily understood than in Galilee. But the Galileans could
scarcely have misunderstood Jesus more lamentably than did the Jews
from first to last, according to John’s representation, and as in
Galilee he had the most undisturbed communion with his disciples, we
should rather have conjectured that here would be the scene of his more
profound instruction. Besides, as the synoptical writers have given a
plentiful gleaning of lucid and popular discourses from the final
residence of Jesus in Jerusalem, there is no ground whatever for
believing that his earlier visits were devoid of such, and that his
converse on these occasions took throughout a higher tone. But even
allowing that all the earlier discourses of Jesus in Judea and
Jerusalem were beyond the range of the first apostolic tradition, deeds
were performed there, such as the cure of the man who had had an
infirmity thirty-eight years, the conferring of sight on the man born
blind, and the raising of Lazarus, which, from their imposing rank
among the evidences of Christianity, must also have necessitated the
mention of those early visits of Jesus to Judea during which they
occurred.

Thus it is impossible to explain why the synoptical writers, if they
knew of the earlier visits of Jesus to Jerusalem, should not have
mentioned them, and it must be concluded that if John be right, the
first three Evangelists knew nothing of an essential part of the
earlier ministry of Jesus; if, on the other hand, the latter be right,
the author of the fourth gospel, or of the tradition by which he was
guided, fabricated a large portion of what he has narrated concerning
the ministry of Jesus, or at least assigned to it a false locality.

On a closer examination, however, the relation between John and the
synoptical writers is not simply such, that the latter might not know
what the former records, but such, that they must have proceeded from
positively opposite data. For example, the synoptical writers, Matthew
especially, as often as Jesus leaves Galilee, from the time that he
takes up his abode there after the Baptist’s imprisonment, seldom
neglect to give a particular reason; such as that he wished to escape
from the crowd by a passage across the sea (Matt. viii. 18), or that he
withdrew into the wilderness of Perea to avoid the snares of Herod
(xiv. 13), or that he retired into the region of Tyre and Sidon on
account of the offence taken by the scribes at his preaching (xv. 21):
John, on the contrary, generally alleges a special reason why Jesus
leaves Judea, and retires into Galilee. Not to contend that his very
first journey thither appears to be occasioned solely by the invitation
to Cana, his departure again into Galilee after the first passover
attended by him in his public character, is expressly accounted for by
the ominous attention which the increasing number of his disciples had
excited among the Pharisees (iv. 1 ff.). His retirement after the
second feast, also, into the country east of the Sea of Tiberias (vi.
1), must be viewed in relation to the ἐζήτουν αὐτὸν οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι
ἀποκτεῖναι (v. 18), since immediately after, the Evangelist assigns as
a reason for the continuance of Jesus in Galilee, the malignant designs
of his enemies, which rendered his abode in Judea perilous to his life
(vii. 1). The interval between the Feast of Tabernacles and the Feast
of the Dedication seems to have been spent by Jesus in the capital,
[708] no unpropitious circumstances compelling him to absent himself
(x. 22); on the other hand, his journey into Perea (x. 40) and that
into Ephraim (xi. 54) are presented as effects of his persecution by
the Jews.

Thus precisely the same relation as that which exists between Matthew
and Luke, with respect to the original dwelling-place of the parents of
Jesus is found between the first three Evangelists and the fourth, with
respect to the principal theatre of his ministry. As, in the former
instance, Matthew pre-supposes Bethlehem to be the original place of
abode, and Nazareth the one subsequently adopted through fortuitous
circumstances, while Luke gives the contrary representation; so in the
latter, the entire statement of the synoptical writers turns on the
idea that, until his last journey, Galilee was the chosen field of the
labours of Jesus, and that he only left it occasionally, from
particular motives and for a short time; while that of John, on the
contrary, turns on the supposition, that Jesus would have taught solely
in Judea and Jerusalem had not prudence sometimes counselled him to
retire into the more remote provinces. [709]

Of these two representations one only can be true. Before they were
perceived to be contradictory, the narrative of John was incorporated
with that of the synoptical writers; since they have been allowed to be
irreconcilable, the verdict has always been in favour of the fourth
Evangelist; and so prevalent is this custom, that even the author of
the Probabilia does not use the difference to the disadvantage of the
latter. De Wette numbers it among the objections to the authenticity of
Matthew’s gospel, that it erroneously limits the ministry of Jesus to
Galilee, [710] and Schneckenburger has no more important ground of
doubt to produce against the apostolic origin of the first canonical
gospel, than the unacquaintance of its author with the extra-Galilean
labours of Jesus. [711] If this decision be well founded, it must rest
on a careful consideration of the question, which of the two
incompatible narratives has the greater corroboration from external
sources, and the more internal verisimilitude? We have shown in the
introduction that the external evidence or testimony for the
authenticity of the fourth gospel and of the synoptical ones, that of
Matthew emphatically, is of about equal value: that is, it determines
nothing in either case, but leaves the decision to the internal
evidence. In relation to this, the following question must be
considered: is it more probable that, although Jesus was actually often
in Judea and Jerusalem previous to his last journey, yet at the time
and place whence the synoptical gospels arose, all traces of the fact
had disappeared: or that, on the contrary, although Jesus never entered
Judea for the exercise of his public ministry before his last journey
thither, yet at the time and place of the composition of the fourth
gospel a tradition of several such visits had been formed?

The above critics seek to show that the first might be the case, in the
following manner. The first gospel, they say, [712] and more or less
the two middle ones, contain the tradition concerning the life of Jesus
as it was formed in Galilee, where the memory of what Jesus did and
said in that province would be preserved with a natural
partiality—while, of that part of his life which was spent out of
Galilee, only the most critical incidents, such as his birth,
consecration, and especially his last journey, which issued in his
death, would be retained; the remainder, including his early journeys
to the various feasts, being either unknown or forgotten, so that any
fragments of information concerning one or other of the previous
residences of Jesus at Jerusalem would be referred to the last, no
other being known.

But John himself, in whom our theologians rest all their confidence,
expressly mentions (iv. 45) that at the first passover visited by Jesus
after his baptism (and probably at others also) the Galileans were
present, and apparently in great numbers, since as a consequence of
their having witnessed his works in Jerusalem, Jesus found a favourable
reception in Galilee. If we add to this, that most of the disciples who
accompanied Jesus in his early journeys to the feasts were Galileans
(John iv. 22, ix. 2), it is inconceivable that tidings of the ministry
of Jesus at Jerusalem should not from the first reach Galilee. Once
there, could time extinguish them? We grant that it is in the nature of
tradition to fuse and remodel its materials, and as the last journey of
Jesus to Jerusalem was pre-eminently memorable, it might absorb the
recollections of the previous ones. But tradition has also another
impulse, and it is its strongest; namely to glorify. It may indeed be
said that to circumscribe the early ministry of Jesus by the frontiers
of Galilee would serve the purpose of glorifying that province, in
which the synoptical tradition had its origin. But the aim of the
synoptical legend was not to glorify Galilee, on which it pronounces
severe judgments;—Jesus is the object round which it would cast a halo,
and his greatness is proportionate to the sphere of his influence.
Hence, to show that from the beginning of his ministry he made himself
known beyond the Galilean angulus terræ, and that he often presented
himself on the brilliant theatre of the capital, especially on
occasions when it was crowded with spectators and hearers from all
regions, was entirely according to the bent of the legend. If,
therefore, there had historically been but one journey of Jesus to
Jerusalem, tradition might be tempted to create more by degrees, since
it would argue—how could so great a light as Jesus have remained so
long under a bushel, and not rather have early and often placed himself
on the lofty stand which Jerusalem presented? Opponents, too, might
object, like the unbelieving brethren of Jesus (John vii. 3, 4), that
he who is conscious of the power to perform something truly great, does
not conceal himself, but seeks publicity, in order that his
capabilities may be recognized; and to these opponents it was thought
the best answer to show that Jesus actually did seek such publicity,
and early obtained recognition in an extended sphere. Out of this
representation would easily grow the idea which lies at the foundation
of the fourth gospel, that not Galilee, but Judea, was the proper
residence of Jesus.

Thus, viewed from the point of the possible formation of a legend, the
balance inclines in favour of the synoptical writers. But is the result
the same when we ascend to the relations and designs of Jesus, and from
this point of view inquire, if it be more probable that Jesus visited
Jerusalem once only or several times during his public life?

The alleged difficulty, that the various journeys to the feasts offer
the principal means of accounting for the intellectual development of
Jesus is easily removed. For those journeys alone would not suffice to
explain the mental pre-eminence of Jesus and as the main stress must
still be placed on his internal gifts, we cannot pronounce whether to a
mind like his, even Galilee might not present enough aliment for their
maturing; besides, an adherence to the synoptical writers would only
oblige us to renounce those journeys to the feasts which Jesus took
after his public appearance, so that he might still have been present
at many feasts previous to his messianic career, without assuming a
conspicuous character. It has been held inconceivable that Jesus, so
long after his assumption of the messianic character, should confine
himself to Galilee, instead of taking his stand in Judea and Jerusalem,
which, from the higher culture and more extensive foreign intercourse
of their population, were a much more suitable field for his labours;
but it has been long remarked, on the other hand, that Jesus could find
easier access to the simple and energetic minds of Galilee, less
fettered by priestcraft and Pharisaism, and therefore acted judiciously
in obtaining a firm footing there by a protracted ministry, before he
ventured to Jerusalem, where, in the centre of priestly and Pharisaic
domination, he must expect stronger opposition.

There is a graver difficulty in the synoptical statement, considered in
relation to the Mosaic law and Jewish custom. The law rigorously
required that every Israelite should appear before Jehovah yearly at
the three principal feasts (Exod. xxiii. 14 ff.), and the reverence of
Jesus for the Mosaic institutes (Matt. v. 17 ff.) renders it improbable
that, during the whole course of his ministry, he should have
undertaken but one journey of observance. [713] The Gospel of Matthew,
however, be our judgment what it may as to the date and place of its
composition, did certainly arise in a community of Jewish Christians,
who well knew what the law prescribed to the devout Israelite, and must
therefore be aware of the contradiction to the law in which the
practice of Jesus was involved, when, during a public ministry of
several years’ duration, only one attendance at Jerusalem was noticed,
or (in case the synoptical writers supposed but a single year’s
ministry, of which we shall speak below) when he was represented as
neglecting two of the great annual feasts. If then, a circle in close
proximity to Jewish usage found nothing offensive in the opinion that
Jesus attended but one feast, may not this authority remove all
hesitation on the subject from our minds? Besides, on a more careful
weighing of the historical and geographical relations, the question
suggests itself, whether between the distant, half Gentile Galilee, and
Jerusalem, the ecclesiastical bond was so close that the observance of
all the feasts could be expected from a Galilean? Even according to the
fourth gospel, Jesus omitted attending one passover that occurred in
the period of his public career (John vi. 4).

There is, however, one point unfavourable to the synoptical writers.
That Jesus in his last visit to Jerusalem should, within the short
space of the feast day, have brought himself into such decided
hostility to the ruling party in the capital, that they contrived his
arrest and death, is inexplicable, if we reject the statement of John,
that this hostility originated and was gradually aggravated during his
frequent previous visits. [714] If it be rejoined, that even in
Galilean synagogues there were stationary scribes and Pharisees (Matt
ix. 3, xii. 14), that such as were resident in the capital often
visited the provinces (Matt. xv. 1), and that thus there existed a
hierarchical nexus by means of which a deadly enmity against Jesus
might be propagated in Jerusalem before he had ever publicly appeared
there; we then have precisely that ecclesiastical bond between Galilee
and Jerusalem which renders improbable on the part of Jesus the
non-observance of a series of feasts. Moreover the synoptical writers
have recorded an expression of Jesus which tells strongly against their
own view. The words: Jerusalem, Jerusalem—how often would I have
gathered thy children together—and ye would not, have no meaning
whatever in Luke, who puts them into the mouth of Jesus before he had
even seen Jerusalem during his public ministry (xiii. 34); and even
from the better arrangement of Matthew (xxiii. 37) it is not to be
understood how Jesus, after a single residence of a few days in
Jerusalem, could found his reproaches on multiplied efforts to win over
its inhabitants to his cause. This whole apostrophe of Jesus has so
original a character, that it is difficult to believe it incorrectly
assigned to him; hence to explain its existence, we must suppose a
series of earlier residences in Jerusalem, such as those recorded by
the fourth Evangelist. There is only one resource,—to pronounce the
statement of the synoptical writers unhistorical in the particular of
limiting the decisive visit of Jesus to Jerusalem to the few days of
the feast, and to suppose that he made a more protracted stay in the
capital. [715]

It will be seen from the foregoing discussion, whether, when so much is
to be argued pro and contra, the unhesitating decision of the critics
in favour of the fourth Evangelist’s statement is a just one. For our
own part, we are far from being equally hasty in declaring for the
synoptical writers, and are content to have submitted the actual state
of the controversy, as to the comparative merits of John and the
synoptical writers, to further consideration.

§ 58.

THE RESIDENCE OF JESUS AT CAPERNAUM.

During the time spent by Jesus in Judea, the capital and its environs
recommended themselves as the most eligible theatre for his agency; and
we might have conjectured that in like manner, when in Galilee, he
would have chosen his native city, Nazareth, as the centre of his
labours. Instead of this we find him, when not travelling, domesticated
at Capernaum, as already mentioned; the synoptical writers designate
this place the ἰδία πόλις of Jesus (Matt. ix. 1, comp. Mark ii. 1);
here, according to them, was the οἴκος, which Jesus was accustomed to
inhabit (Mark ii. 1, iii. 20; Matt. xiii. 1, 36) probably that of Peter
(Mark i. 29; Matt. viii. 14, xvii. 25; Luke iv. 38). In the fourth
gospel, which only mentions very transient visits of Jesus to Galilee,
Capernaum is not given as his dwelling-place, and Cana is the place
with which he is supposed to have the most connexion. After his baptism
he proceeds first to Cana (ii. 1), on a special occasion, it is true;
after this he makes a short stay at Capernaum (v. 12); and on his
return from his first attendance at the passover, it is again Cana to
which he resorts and in which the fourth Evangelist makes him effect a
cure (iv. 46 ff.), according to the synoptical writers, performed at
Capernaum, and after this we find him once again in the synagogue at
Capernaum (vi. 59). The most eminent disciples, also, are said by the
writer of the fourth gospel, not as by the synoptical writers, to come
from Capernaum, but partly from Cana (xxi. 2) and partly from Bethsaida
(i. 45). The latter place, even in the synoptical gospels, is
mentioned, with Chorazin, as one in which Jesus had been pre-eminently
active (Matt. xi. 21; Luke x. 13).

Why Jesus chose Capernaum as his central residence in Galilee, Mark
does not attempt to show, but conducts him thither without comment
after his return into Galilee, and the calling of the two pairs of
fishermen (i. 21). Matthew (iv. 13 ff.) alleges as a motive, that an
Old Testament prophecy (Isa. viii. 23, ix. 1), was thereby fulfilled; a
dogmatical motive, and therefore of no historical value. Luke thinks he
has found the reason in a fact, which is more worthy of notice.
According to him, Jesus after his return from baptism does not
immediately take up his residence in Capernaum, but makes an essay to
teach in Nazareth, and after its failure first turns to Capernaum. This
Evangelist tells us in the most graphic style how Jesus presented
himself at the synagogue on the sabbath-day, and expounded a prophetic
passage, so as to excite general admiration, but at the same time to
provoke malicious reflections on the narrow circumstances of his
family. Jesus, in reply, is made to refer the discontent of the
Nazarenes, that he performed no miracles before them as at Capernaum,
to the contempt which every prophet meets with in his own country, and
to threaten them in Old Testament allusions, that the divine benefits
would be withdrawn from them and conferred on strangers. Exasperated by
this, they lead him to the brow of the hill, intending to cast him
down; he, however, passes unhurt through the midst of them (iv. 16–30).

Both the other synoptical writers are acquainted with a visit of Jesus
to Nazareth; but they transfer it to a much later period, when Jesus
had been long labouring in Galilee, and resident in Capernaum (Matt.
xiii. 54 ff.; Mark vi. 1 ff.). To reconcile their narrative with that
of Luke, it has been customary to suppose that Jesus, notwithstanding
his first rough reception, as described by Luke, wished to make one
more experiment whether his long absence and subsequent fame might not
have altered the opinion of the Nazarenes—an opinion worthy of a petty
town: but the result was equally unfavourable. [716] The two scenes,
however, are too similar to be prevented from mingling with each other.
In both instances the teaching of Jesus in the synagogue makes the same
impression on the Nazarenes,—that of amazement at the wisdom of the
carpenter’s son (Luke only giving more details): in both instances
there is a lack of miracles on the part of Jesus, the first two
Evangelists presenting more prominently its cause, namely, the unbelief
of the Nazarenes, and the third dwelling more on its unfavourable
effect: lastly in both instances, Jesus delivers the maxim (the result
of his experience), that a prophet is the least esteemed in his own
country: and to this Luke appends a more ample discourse, which
irritates the Nazarenes to attempt an act of violence, unnoticed by the
other Evangelists. But the fact which most decisively shows that the
two narratives cannot exist in each other’s presence, is that they both
claim to relate the first incident of the kind; [717] for in both, the
Nazarenes express their astonishment at the suddenly revealed
intellectual gifts of Jesus, which they could not at once reconcile
with his known condition. [718] The first supposition that presents
itself is, that the scene described by Luke preceded that of Matthew
and Mark; but if so, the Nazarenes could not wonder a second time and
inquire, whence hath this man this wisdom? since they must have had
proof on that point on the first occasion; if, on the contrary, we try
to give the later date to Luke’s incident, it appears unnatural, for
the same reason that they should wonder at the gracious words which
proceeded out of his mouth, neither could Jesus well say, This day is
this scripture fulfilled in your ears, without severely reflecting on
their former insensibility, which had retarded that fulfilment.

These considerations have led the majority of modern commentators to
the opinion, that Luke and the other synoptical Evangelists have here
given the same history, merely differing in the date, and in the
colouring of the facts; [719] and the only question among them is,
which of the two narrations deserves the preference. With respect to
the date, that of Luke seems, at the first glance, to have the
advantage; it gives the desiderated motive for the change of residence,
and the wonder of the Nazarenes appears most natural on the supposition
that then he first assumed the function of a public teacher; hence
Matthew’s divergency from Luke has been recently made a serious
reproach to him, as a chronological error. [720] But there is one
particular in all the three narratives which is an obstacle to our
referring the incident to so early a period. If Jesus presented himself
thus at Nazareth before he had made Capernaum the principal theatre of
his agency, the Nazarenes could not utter the words which Jesus imputes
to them in Luke: Whatsoever we have heard done in Capernaum, do also
here in thy country; nor could they, according to Matthew and Mark, be
astonished at the mighty works of Jesus, [721] for as he performed few
if any miracles at Nazareth, that expression, notwithstanding its
perplexing connexion with the σοφία, the wisdom, manifested in that
city, must refer to works performed elsewhere. If, then, the Nazarenes
wondered at the deeds of Jesus at Capernaum, or were jealous of the
distinction conferred on that city, Jesus must have previously resided
there, and could not have proceeded thither for the first time in
consequence of the scene at Nazareth. From this, it is plain that the
later chronological position of the narrative is the original one, and
that Luke, in placing it earlier, out of mere conjecture, was honest or
careless enough to retain the mention of the wonders at Capernaum,
though only consistent with the later position. [722] If, with regard
to the date of the incident, the advantage is thus on the side of
Matthew and Mark, we are left in darkness as to the motive which led
Jesus to alter his abode from Nazareth to Capernaum; unless the
circumstance that some of his most confidential disciples had their
home there, and the more extensive traffic of the place, may be
regarded as inducements to the measure.

The fulness and particularity of Luke’s description of the scene,
contrasted with the summary style in which it is given by the other two
Evangelists, has generally won for the former the praise of superior
accuracy. [723] Let us look more closely, and we shall find that the
greater particularity of Luke shows itself chiefly in this, that he is
not satisfied with a merely general mention of the discourse delivered
by Jesus in the synagogue, but cites the Old Testament passage on which
he enlarged, and the commencement of its application. The passage is
from Isa. lxi. 1, 2, where the prophet announces the return from exile,
with the exception of the words to set at liberty them that are
bruised, ἀποστεῖλαι τεθραυσμένους ἐν ἀφέσει, which are from Isa. lviii.
6. To this passage Jesus gives a messianic interpretation, for he
declares it to be fulfilled by his appearance. Why he selected this
text from among all others has been variously conjectured. It is known
that among the Jews at a later period, certain extracts from the Thorah
and the Prophets were statedly read on particular sabbaths and feast
days, and it has hence been suggested that the above passage was the
selection appointed for the occasion in question. It is true that the
chapter from which the words ἀποστεῖλαι κ.τ.λ. are taken, used to be
read on the great Day of Atonement, and Bengel has made the
supposition, that the scene we are considering occurred on that day, a
main pillar of his evangelical chronology. [724] But if Jesus had
adhered to the regular course of reading, he would not merely have
extracted from the lesson appointed for this feast a few stray words,
to insert them in a totally disconnected passage; and after all, it is
impossible to demonstrate that, so early as the time of Jesus, there
were prescribed readings, even from the prophets. [725] If then Jesus
was not thus circumstantially directed to the passage cited, did he
open upon it designedly or fortuitously? Many imagine him turning over
the leaves until he found the text which was in his mind: [726] but
Olshausen is right in saying that the words ἀναπτύξας τὸ βιβλίον εὗρε
τὸν τόπον do not imply that he found the passage after searching for
it, but that he alighted on it under the guidance of the Divine Spirit.
[727] This, however, is but a poor contrivance, to hide the
improbability, that Jesus should fortuitously open on a passage so well
adapted to serve as a motto for his first messianic enterprize, behind
an appeal to the Spirit, as deus ex machinâ. Jesus might very likely
have quoted this text with reference to himself, and thus it would
remain in the minds of the Evangelists as a prophecy fulfilled in
Jesus; Matthew would probably have introduced it in his own person with
his usual form, ἵνα πληρωθῇ, and would have said that Jesus had now
begun his messianic annunciation, κήρυγμα, that the prophecy Isa. lxi.
1 ff. might be fulfilled; but Luke, who is less partial to this form,
or the tradition whence he drew his materials, puts the words into the
mouth of Jesus on his first messianic appearance, very judiciously, it
is true, but, owing to the chances which it is necessary to suppose,
less probably; so that I am more inclined to be satisfied with the
indefinite statement of Matthew and Mark. The other point in which the
description of Luke merits the praise of particularity, is his dramatic
picture of the tumultuary closing scene; but this scene perplexes even
those who on the whole give the preference to his narrative. It is not
to be concealed that the extremely violent expulsion of Jesus by the
Nazarenes, seems to have had no adequate provocation: [728] and we
cannot with Schleiermacher, [729] expunge the notion that the life of
Jesus was threatened, without imputing to the writer a false addition
of the words εἰς τὸ κατακρημνίσαι αὐτὸν (v. 29), and thus materially
affecting the credibility of his entire narration. But the still more
remarkable clause, διελθὼν διὰ μέσου αὐτῶν ἐπορεύετο (v. 30), is the
main difficulty. It is not to be explained (at least not in accordance
with the Evangelist’s view) as an effect merely of the commanding
glance of Jesus, as Hase supposes; and Olshausen is again right when he
says, that the Evangelist intended to signify that Jesus passed
unharmed through the midst of his furious enemies, because his divine
power fettered their senses and limbs, because his hour was not yet
come (John viii. 20), and because no man could take his life from him
until he himself laid it down (John x. 18). [730] Here again we have a
display of the glorifying tendency of tradition, which loved to
represent Jesus as one defended from his enemies, like Lot (Gen. xix.
11), or Elisha (2 Kings vi. 18), by a heavenly hand, or better still,
by the power of his own superior nature; unless there be supposed in
this case, as in the two examples from the Old Testament, a temporary
infliction of blindness, an illudere per caliginem, the idea of which
Tertullian reprobates. [731] Thus in this instance also, the less
imposing account of the first two Evangelists is to be preferred,
namely that Jesus, impeded from further activity by the unbelief of the
Nazarenes, voluntarily forsook his ungrateful paternal city.

§ 59.

DIVERGENCIES OF THE EVANGELISTS AS TO THE CHRONOLOGY OF THE LIFE OF
JESUS. DURATION OF HIS PUBLIC MINISTRY.

In considering the chronology of the public life of Jesus, we must
distinguish the question of its total duration, from that of the
arrangement of its particular events.

Not one of our Evangelists expressly tells us how long the public
ministry of Jesus lasted; but while the synoptical writers give us no
clue to a decision on the subject, we find in John certain data, which
seem to warrant one. In the synoptical gospels there is no intimation
how long after the baptism of Jesus his imprisonment and death
occurred: nowhere are months and years distinguished; and though it is
once or twice said: μεθ’ ἡμέρας ἓξ or δύο (Matt. xvii. 1, 2), these
isolated fixed points furnish us with no guidance in a sea of general
uncertainty. On the contrary, the many journeys to the feasts by which
the narrative of the fourth Evangelist is distinguished from that of
his predecessors, furnishes us, so to speak, with chronological
abutments, as for each appearance of Jesus at one of these annual
feasts, the Passover especially, we must, deducting the first, reckon a
full year of his ministry. We have, in the fourth gospel, after the
baptism of Jesus, and apparently at a short interval (comp. i. 29, 35,
44, ii. 1, 12), a passover attended by him (ii. 13). But the next feast
visited by Jesus (v. 1) which is indefinitely designated a feast of the
Jews, has been the perpetual crux of New Testament chronologists. It is
only important in determining the duration of the public life of Jesus,
on the supposition that it was a passover; for in this case it would
mark the close of his first year’s ministry. We grant that ἡ ἑορτὴ τῶν
Ἰουδαίων, THE feast of the Jews, might very probably denote the
Passover, which was pre-eminent among their institutions: [732] but it
happens that the best manuscripts have in the present passage no
article, and without it, the above expression can only signify
indefinitely one of the Jewish feasts, which the author thought it
immaterial to specify. [733] Thus intrinsically it might mean either
the feast of Pentecost, [734] Purim, [735] the Passover, [736] or any
other; [737] but in its actual connection it is evidently not intended
by the narrator to imply the Passover, both because he would hardly
have glanced thus slightly at the most important of all the feasts, and
because, vi. 4, there comes another Passover, so that on the
supposition we are contesting, he would have passed in silence over a
whole year between v. 47, and vi. 1. For to give the words, ἦν δὲ ἐγγὺς
τὸ πάσχα (vi. 4), a retrospective meaning, is too artificial an
expedient of Paulus, since, as he himself confesses, [738] this phrase,
elsewhere in John, is invariably used with reference to the immediately
approaching feast (ii. 13, vii. 2, xi. 55), and must from its nature
have a prospective meaning, unless the context indicate the contrary.
Thus not until John vi. 4, do we meet with the second passover, and to
this it is not mentioned that Jesus resorted. [739] Then follow the
feast of Tabernacles and that of the Dedication, and afterwards, xi.
55, xii. 1, the last passover visited by Jesus. According to our view
of John v. 1, and vi. 4, therefore, we obtain two years for the public
ministry of Jesus, besides the interval between his baptism and the
first Passover. The same result is found by those who, with Paulus,
hold the feast mentioned, v. 1, to be a passover, but vi. 4, only a
retrospective allusion; whereas the ancient Fathers of the Church,
reckoning a separate Passover to each of the passages in question, made
out three years. Meanwhile, by this calculation, we only get the
minimum duration of the public ministry of Jesus possible according to
the fourth gospel, for the writer nowhere intimates that he has been
punctilious in naming every feast that fell within that ministry,
including those not observed by Jesus, neither, unless we regard it as
established that the writer was the apostle John, have we any guarantee
that he knew the entire number.

It may be urged in opposition to the calculations, built on the
representations of John, that the synoptical writers give no reasons
for limiting the term of the public ministry of Jesus to a single year:
[740] but this objection rests on a supposition borrowed from John
himself, namely that Jesus, Galilean though he was, made it a rule to
attend every Passover: a supposition, again, which is overturned by the
same writer’s own representation. According to him, Jesus left
unobserved the passover mentioned, vi. 4, for from vi. 1, where Jesus
is on the east side of the sea of Tiberias, through vi. 17 and 59,
where he goes to Capernaum, and vii. 1, where he frequents Galilee, in
order to avoid the Jews, to vii. 2 and 10, where he proceeds to
Jerusalem on occasion of the feast of Tabernacles, the Evangelist’s
narrative is so closely consecutive that a journey to the Passover can
nowhere be inserted. Out of the synoptical gospels, by themselves, we
gather nothing as to the length of the public ministry of Jesus, for
this representation admits of our assigning him either several years of
activity, or only one; their restriction of his intercourse with
Jerusalem to his final journey being the sole point in which they
control our conclusion. It is true that several Fathers of the Church,
[741] as well as some heretics, [742] speak of the ministry of Jesus as
having lasted but a single year; but that the source of this opinion
was not the absence of early journeys to the feasts in the synoptical
gospels, but an entirely fortuitous association, we learn from those
Fathers themselves, for they derive it from the prophetic passage Isa.
lxi. 1 f. applied by Jesus (Luke iv.) to himself. In this passage there
is mention of the acceptable year of the Lord, ἐνιαυτὸς Κυρίου δεκτὸς,
which the prophet or, according to the Evangelical interpretation, the
Messiah is sent to announce. Understanding this phrase in its strict
chronological sense, they adopted from it the notion of a single
messianic year, which was more easily reconcilable with the synoptical
gospels than with that of John, after whose statement the calculation
of the church soon came to be regulated.

In striking contrast with this lowest computation of time, is the
tradition, also very ancient, that Jesus was baptized in his thirtieth
year, but at the time of his crucifixion was not far from his fiftieth.
[743] But this opinion is equally founded on a misunderstanding. The
elders who had conversations with John the disciple of the Lord, in
Asia, πρεσβύτεροι οἱ κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν Ἰωάννῃ τῷ τοῦ Κυρίου μαθητῇ
συμβεβληκότες,—on whose testimony Irenæus relies when he says, such is
the tradition of John, παραδεδωκέναι ταῦτα τὸν Ἰωάννην,—had given no
information further than that Christ taught, ætatem seniorem habens.
That this ætas senior was the age of from forty to fifty years is
merely the inference of Irenæus, founded on what the Jews allege as an
objection to the discourse of Jesus, John viii. 57: Thou art not yet
fifty years old, and hast thou seen Abraham? language which according
to Irenæus could only be addressed to one, qui jam quadraginta annos
excessit, quinquagesimum autem annum nondum attigit. But the Jews might
very well say to a man a little more than thirty, that he was much too
young to have seen Abraham, since he had not reached his fiftieth year,
which, in the Jewish idea, completed the term of manhood. [744]

Thus we can obtain no precise information from our gospels as to how
long the public labours of Jesus lasted; all we can gather is, that if
we follow the fourth gospel we must not reckon less than two years and
something over. But the repeated journeys to the feasts on which this
calculation is founded are themselves not established beyond doubt.

Opposed to this minimum, we gain a maximum, if we understand, from Luke
iii. 1 ff. and 23, that the baptism of Jesus took place in the
fifteenth year of Tiberius, and add to this that his crucifixion
occurred under the procuratorship of Pontius Pilate. For as Pilate was
recalled from his post in the year of Tiberius’s death, [745] and as
Tiberius reigned rather more than seven years after the fifteenth year
of his reign, [746] it follows that seven years are the maximum of the
possible duration of the ministry of Jesus after his baptism. But while
one of these data, namely, that Jesus was crucified under Pilate, is
well attested, the other is rendered suspicious by its association with
a chronological error, so that in fact we cannot achieve here even a
proximate, still less an accurate solution of our question.

§ 60.

THE ATTEMPTS AT A CHRONOLOGICAL ARRANGEMENT OF THE PARTICULAR EVENTS IN
THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS.

In attempting a chronological arrangement of the particular events
occurring in the interval between the baptism of Jesus and his
crucifixion, the peculiar relation of the synoptical writers to John,
renders it necessary to give them both a separate and a comparative
examination. As to the latter, if its result be a reconciliation of the
two accounts, the journeys to the feasts in John must form the panels
between which the materials of the synoptical writers must be so
inserted, that between each pair of journeys with the incidents at
Jerusalem to which they gave rise, would fall a portion of the Galilean
history. For this incorporation to be effected with any certainty, two
things would be essential; first, a notice of the departure of Jesus
from Galilee by the first three Evangelists, as often as the fourth
speaks of a residence in Jerusalem; and, secondly, on the part of John,
an intimation, if not a narration, between his accounts of the several
feasts, of the Galilean occurrences represented by the synoptical
writers as an uninterrupted train. But we have seen that the synoptical
writers fail in the required notice; while it is notorious that John,
from the baptism of Jesus to the closing scenes of his life, is only in
two or three instances in coincidence with the other Evangelists. John
says (iii. 24) that when Jesus began his ministry, John was not yet
cast into prison; Matthew makes the return of Jesus into Galilee
subsequent to the imprisonment of the Baptist (iv. 12), hence it has
been inferred that that return was from the first passover, and not
from the baptism; [747] but it is undeniable that Matthew places the
commencement of the public ministry of Jesus in Galilee, and
presupposes no earlier ministry at the feast in Jerusalem, so that the
two statements, instead of dovetailing, as has been imagined, are
altogether incompatible. The next, but very dubious point of contact,
occurs in the healing of the nobleman’s son, according to John iv. 46
ff., or the centurion’s servant, according to Matt. viii. 5 ff., and
Luke vii. 1 ff., which John places (v. 47) immediately after the return
of Jesus from his prolonged residence in Judea and Samaria, during and
after the first passover. It was to be expected, then, that the
corresponding narration of the synoptical writers would be preceded by
some intimation of the first journey made by Jesus to a feast. Not only
is such an intimation wanting—there is not a single aperture to be
found for the insertion of this journey, since, according to the
synoptical writers, the cure in question was an immediate sequel to the
Sermon on the Mount, which Matthew and Luke represent as the
culminating point, of an apparently uninterrupted course of teaching
and miracles in Galilee. Thus neither at this point is the chronology
of the first three Evangelists to be eked out by that of the fourth,
since they nowhere present a joint on to which the statements of the
latter can be articulated. Another more decided coincidence between the
two parties exists in the associated narratives of the miracle of the
loaves, and that of walking on the sea, John vi. 1–21, Matt. xiv. 14–36
parall., which John places in the interval immediately preceding the
second passover, unvisited by Jesus; but he differs so completely from
the synoptical writers in his account of these miracles, both in their
introduction and termination, that either he or they must inevitably be
wrong. For while, according to Matthew, Jesus retires from Nazareth
probably, at all events from some part of Galilee, to the opposite side
of the sea, where he effects the multiplication of the loaves;
according to John he sets out from Jerusalem. Further, in the first two
gospels Jesus proceeds after the miracle of the loaves into a district
where he was less known (both Matt. v. 35 and Mark v. 54 expressly
stating that the people knew him), whereas in John he goes directly to
Capernaum, with which of all places he was the most familiar. We know
not here whether to tax the synoptical writers or John with a mistake:
and as we cannot pronounce whether he or they have placed this incident
too early or too late, we are equally ignorant how much of the
synoptical narratives we are to place before, and how much after, the
second passover, which John makes nearly cotemporary with the feeding
of the five thousand. Here, however, the points of contact between this
Evangelist and his predecessors are at an end, until we come to the
last journey of Jesus; and if they are too uncertain to promise even a
simple division of the synoptical materials by the two Passovers, how
can we hope, by the journeys of Jesus to the feast of the Jews, ἑορτὴ
τῶν Ἰουδαίων, to the feast of Tabernacles, or to the feast of
Dedication, if that be a separate journey, to classify chronologically
the uninterrupted series of Galilean occurrences in the first three
gospels? Nevertheless this has been attempted by a succession of
theologians down to the present time, with an expenditure of acumen and
erudition, worthy of a more fertile subject; [748] but unprejudiced
judges have decided, that as the narrative of the first three
Evangelists has scarcely any elements that can give certitude to such a
classification, not one of the harmonies of the gospels yet written has
any claim to be considered anything more than a tissue of historical
conjectures. [749]

It remains to estimate the chronological value of the synoptical
writers, apart from John. They are so frequently at variance with each
other in the order of events, and it is so seldom that one has all the
probabilities on his side, that each of them may be convicted of
numerous chronological errors, which must undermine our confidence in
his accuracy. It has been maintained that, in the composition of their
books, they meditated no precise chronological order, [750] and this is
partially confirmed by their mode of narration. Throughout the interval
between the baptism of Jesus and the history of the Passion, their
narratives resemble a collection of anecdotes, strung together mostly
on a thread of mere analogy and association of ideas. But there is a
distinction to be made in reference to the above opinion. It is true
that from the purport of their narratives, and the indecisiveness and
uniformity of their connecting phrases, we can detect their want of
insight into the more accurate chronological relations of what they
record; but that the authors flattered themselves they were giving a
chronological narration, is evident from those very connecting phrases,
which, however indecisive, have almost always a chronological
character, such as καταβάντι ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄρους, παράγων ἐκεῖθεν, ταῦτα
αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος, ἐν αὐτῇ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ, τότε, καὶ ἰδοὺ, etc. [751]

The incidents and discourses detailed by John are, for the most part,
peculiar to himself; he is therefore not liable to the same control in
his chronology from independent authors, as are the synoptical writers
from each other; neither is his narration wanting in connectedness and
sequence. Hence our decision on the merits of his chronological order
is dependent on the answer to the following question: Is the
development and progress of the cause and plan of Jesus, as given by
the fourth Evangelist, credible in itself and on comparison with
available data, drawn from the other gospels? The solution to this
question is involved in the succeeding inquiry.

CHAPTER IV.

JESUS AS THE MESSIAH. [752]

§ 61.

JESUS, THE SON OF MAN.

In treating of the relation in which Jesus conceived himself to stand
to the messianic idea, we can distinguish his dicta concerning his own
person from those concerning the work he had undertaken.

The appellation which Jesus commonly gives himself in the Gospels is,
the Son of man, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. The exactly corresponding Hebrew
expression ‏בֶּן־אָדָם‎ is in the Old Testament a frequent designation of
man in general, and thus we might be induced to understand it in the
mouth of Jesus. This interpretation would suit some passages; for
example, Matt. xii. 8, where Jesus says: The Son of man is lord also of
the Sabbath day, κύριος γάρ ἐστι τοῦ σαββάτου ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ
ἀνθρώπου,—words which will fitly enough take a general meaning, such as
Grotius affixes to them, namely, that man is lord of the Sabbath,
especially if we compare Mark (ii. 27), who introduces them by the
proposition, The Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath,
τὸ σάββατον διὰ τὸν ἄθρωπον ἐγένετο, οὐχ ὁ ἄνθρωπος διὰ τὸ σάββατον.
But in the majority of cases, the phrase in question is evidently used
as a special designation. Thus, Matt. viii. 20, a scribe volunteers to
become a disciple of Jesus, and is admonished to count the cost in the
words, The Son of man hath not where to lay his head, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ
ἀνθρώπου οὐκ ἔχει, ποῦ τὴν κεφαλὴν κλἱνῃ: here some particular man must
be intended, nay, the particular man into whose companionship the
scribe wished to enter, that is, Jesus himself. As a reason for the
self-application of this term by Jesus, it has been suggested that he
used the third person after the oriental manner, to avoid the I. [753]
But for a speaker to use the third person in reference to himself, is
only admissible, if he would be understood, when the designation he
employs is precise, and inapplicable to any other person present, as
when a father or a king uses his appropriate title of himself; or when,
if the designation be not precise, its relation is made clear by a
demonstrative pronoun, which limitation is eminently indispensable if
an individual speak of himself under the universal designation man. We
grant that occasionally a gesture might supply the place of the
demonstrative pronoun; but that Jesus in every instance of his using
this habitual expression had recourse to some visible explanatory sign,
or that the Evangelists would not, in that case, have supplied its
necessary absence from a written document by some demonstrative
addition, is inconceivable. If both Jesus and the Evangelists held such
an elucidation superfluous, they must have seen in the expression
itself the key to its precise application. Some are of opinion that
Jesus intended by it to point himself out as the ideal man—man in the
noblest sense of the word; [754] but this is a modern theory, not an
historical inference, for there is no trace of such an interpretation
of the expression in the time of Jesus, [755] and it would be more easy
to show, as others have attempted, that the appellation, Son of Man, so
frequently used by Jesus, had reference to his lowly and despised
condition. [756] Apart however from the objection that this acceptation
also would require the addition of the demonstrative pronoun, though it
might be adapted to many passages, as Matt. viii. 20; John i. 51, there
are others (such as Matt. xvii. 22, where Jesus, foretelling his
violent death, designates himself ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου) which demand the
contrast of high dignity with an ignominious fate. So in Matt. x. 23,
the assurance given to the commissioned disciples that before they had
gone over the cities of Israel the Son of Man would come, could have no
weight unless this expression denoted a person of importance; and that
such was its significance is proved by a comparison of Matt. xvi. 28,
where there is also a mention of an ἔρχεσθαι, a coming of the Son of
man, but with the addition ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ αὐτοῦ. As this addition can
only refer to the messianic kingdom, the υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου must be the
Messiah.

How so apparently vague an appellation came to be appropriated to the
Messiah, we gather from Matt. xxvi. 64 parall., where the Son of man is
depicted as coming in the clouds of heaven. This is evidently an
allusion to Dan. vii. 13 f. where after having treated of the fall of
the four beasts, the writer says: I saw in the night visions, and
behold, one like the Son of Man (‏כְּבַר אֱנָשׁ‎ ὡς υἱὸς ἀνθρώπου, LXX.) came
with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of days. And there
was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people,
nations and languages should serve him: his dominion is an everlasting
dominion. The four beasts (v. 17 ff.) were symbolical of the four great
empires, the last of which was the Macedonian, with its offshoot,
Syria. After their fall, the kingdom was to be given in perpetuity to
the People of God, the saints of the Most High: hence, he who was to
come with clouds of heaven could only be, either a personification of
the holy people, [757] or a leader of heavenly origin under whom they
were to achieve their destined triumph—in a word, the Messiah; and this
was the customary interpretation among the Jews. [758] Two things are
predicated of this personage,—that he was like the Son of man, and that
he came with the clouds of heaven; but the former particular is his
distinctive characteristic, and imports either that he had not a
superhuman form, that of an angel for instance, though descending from
heaven, or else that the kingdom about to be established presented in
its humanity a contrast to the inhumanity of its predecessors, of which
ferocious beasts were the fitting emblems. [759] At a later period, it
is true, the Jews regarded the coming with the clouds of heaven
‏עִס־עֲנָנִי שְׁמַיָא‎ as the more essential attribute of the Messiah, and
hence gave him the name Anani, after the Jewish taste of making a
merely accessory circumstance the permanent epithet of a person or
thing. [760] If, then, the expression ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου necessarily
recalled the above passage in Daniel, generally believed to relate to
the Messiah, it is impossible that Jesus could so often use it, and in
connexion with declarations evidently referring to the Messiah, without
intending it as the designation of that personage.

That by the expression in question Jesus meant himself, without
relation to the messianic dignity, is less probable than the contrary
supposition, that he might often mean the Messiah when he spoke of the
Son of Man, without relation to his own person. When, Matt. x. 23, on
the first mission of the twelve apostles to announce the kingdom of
heaven, he comforts them under the prospect of their future
persecutions by the assurance that they would not have gone over all
the cities of Israel before the coming of the Son of Man, we should
rather, taking this declaration alone, think of a third person, whose
speedy messianic appearance Jesus was promising, than of the speaker
himself, seeing that he was already come, and it would not be
antecedently clear how he could represent his own coming as one still
in anticipation. So also when Jesus (Matt. xiii. 37 ff.) interprets the
Sower of the parable to be the Son of Man, who at the end of the world
will have a harvest and a tribunal, he might be supposed to refer to
the Messiah as a third person distinct from himself. This is equally
the case, xvi. 27 f., where, to prove the proposition that the loss of
the soul is not to be compensated by the gain of the whole world, he
urges the speedy coming of the Son of Man, to administer retribution.
Lastly, in the connected discourses, Matt. xxiv., xxv. parall., many
particulars would be more easily conceived, if the υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου
whose παρουσία Jesus describes, were understood to mean another than
himself.

But this explanation is far from being applicable to the majority of
instances in which Jesus uses this expression. When he represents the
Son of Man, not as one still to be expected, but as one already come
and actually present, for example, in Matt xviii. 11, where he says:
The Son of Man is come to save that which was lost; when he justifies
his own acts by the authority with which the Son of Man was invested,
as in Matt. ix. 6; when, Mark viii. 31 ff. comp. Matt. xvi. 22, he
speaks of the approaching sufferings and death of the Son of Man, so as
to elicit from Peter the exclamation, οὐ μὴ ἔσται σοι τοῦτο, this shall
not be unto thee; in these and similar cases he can only, by the υἱὸς
τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, have intended himself. And even those passages, which,
taken singly, we might have found capable of application to a messianic
person, distinct from Jesus, lose this capability when considered in
their entire connexion. It is possible, however, either that the writer
may have misplaced certain expressions, or that the ultimately
prevalent conviction that Jesus was the Son of Man caused what was
originally said merely of the latter, to be viewed in immediate
relation to the former.

Thus besides the fact that Jesus on many occasions called himself the
Son of Man, there remains the possibility that on many others, he may
have designed another person; and if so, the latter would in the order
of time naturally precede the former. Whether this possibility can be
heightened ta a reality, must depend on the answer to the following
question: Is there, in the period of the life of Jesus, from which all
his recorded declarations are taken, any fragment which indicates that
he had not yet conceived himself to be the Messiah?

§ 62.

HOW SOON DID JESUS CONCEIVE HIMSELF TO BE THE MESSIAH, AND FIND
RECOGNITION AS SUCH FROM OTHERS?

Jesus held and expressed the conviction that he was the Messiah; this
is an indisputable fact. Not only did he, according to the Evangelists,
receive with satisfaction the confession of the disciples that he was
the Χριστὸς (Matt. xvi. 16 f.) and the salutation of the people,
Hosanna to the Son of David (xxi. 15 f.); not only did he before a
public tribunal (Matt. xxvi. 64, comp. John xviii. 37) as well as to
private individuals (John iv. 26, ix. 37, x. 25) repeatedly declare
himself to be the Messiah; but the fact that his disciples after his
death believed and proclaimed that he was the Messiah, is not to be
comprehended, unless, when living, he had implanted the conviction in
their minds.

To the more searching question, how soon Jesus began to declare himself
the Messiah and to be regarded as such by others, the Evangelists
almost unanimously reply, that he assumed that character from the time
of his baptism. All of them attach to his baptism circumstances which
must have convinced himself, if yet uncertain, and all others who
witnessed or credited them, that he was no less than the Messiah; John
makes his earliest disciples recognise his right to that dignity on
their first interview (i. 42 ff.), and Matthew attributes to him at the
very beginning of his ministry, in the sermon on the mount, a
representation of himself as the Judge of the world (vii. 21 ff.) and
therefore the Messiah.

Nevertheless, on a closer examination, there appears a remarkable
divergency on this subject between the synoptical statement and that of
John. While, namely, in John, Jesus remains throughout true to his
assertion, and the disciples and his followers among the populace to
their conviction, that he is the Messiah; in the synoptical gospels
there is a vacillation discernible—the previously expressed persuasion
on the part of the disciples and people that Jesus was the Messiah,
sometimes vanishes and gives place to a much lower view of him, and
even Jesus himself becomes more reserved in his declarations. This is
particularly striking when the synoptical statement is compared with
that of John; but even when they are separately considered, the result
is the same.

According to John (vi. 15), after the miracle of the loaves the people
were inclined to constitute Jesus their (messianic) King; on the
contrary, according to the other three Evangelists, either about the
same time (Luke ix. 18 f.) or still later (Matt. xvi. 13 f.; Mark viii.
27 f.) the disciples could only report, on the opinions of the people
respecting their master, that some said he was the resuscitated
Baptist, some Elias, and others Jeremiah or one of the old prophets: in
reference to that passage of John, however, as also to the synoptical
one, Matt. xiv. 33, according to which, some time before Jesus elicited
the above report of the popular opinion, the people who were with him
in the ship [761] when he had allayed the storm, fell at his feet and
worshipped him as the Son of God, it may be observed that when Jesus
had spoken or acted with peculiar impressiveness, individuals, in the
exaltation of the moment, might be penetrated with a conviction that he
was the Messiah, while the general and calm voice of the people yet
pronounced him to be merely a prophet.

But there is a more troublesome divergency relative to the disciples.
In John, Andrew, after his first interview with Jesus, says to his
brother, we have found the Messiah, εὑρήκαμεν τὸν Μεσσίαν (i. 42); and
Philip describes him to Nathanael as the person foretold by Moses and
the prophets (v. 46); Nathanael salutes him as the Son of God and King
of Israel (v. 50); and the subsequent confession of Peter appears
merely a renewed avowal of what had been long a familiar truth. In the
synoptical Evangelists it is only after prolonged intercourse with
Jesus, and shortly before his sufferings, that the ardent Peter arrives
at the conclusion that Jesus is the Χριστὸς, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ τοῦ ζῶντος
(Matt. xvi. 16, parall.). It is impossible that this confession should
make so strong an impression on Jesus that, in consequence of it, he
should pronounce Peter blessed, and his confession the fruit of
immediate divine revelation, as Matthew narrates; or that, as all the
three Evangelists inform us (xvi. 20, viii. 30, ix. 21), he should, as
if alarmed, forbid the disciples to promulgate their conviction, unless
it represented not an opinion long cherished in the circle of his
disciples, but a new light, which had just flashed on the mind of
Peter, and through him was communicated to his associates.

There is a third equally serious discrepancy, relative to the
declarations of Jesus concerning his Messiahship. According to John he
sanctions the homage which Nathanael renders to him as the Son of God
and King of Israel, in the very commencement of his public career, and
immediately proceeds to speak of himself under the messianic title, Son
of Man (i. 51 f.): to the Samaritans also after his first visit to the
passover (iv. 26, 39 ff.), and to the Jews on the second (v. 46), he
makes himself known as the Messiah predicted by Moses. According to the
synoptical writers, on the contrary, he prohibits, in the instance
above cited and in many others, the dissemination of the doctrine of
his Messiahship, beyond the circle of his adherents. Farther, when he
asks his disciples, Whom do men say that I am? (Matt. xvi. 15) he seems
to wish [762] that they should derive their conviction of his
Messiahship from his discourses and actions, and when he ascribes the
avowed faith of Peter to a revelation from his heavenly Father, he
excludes the possibility of his having himself previously made this
disclosure to his disciples, either in the manner described by John, or
in the more indirect one attributed to him by Matthew in the Sermon on
the Mount; unless we suppose that the disciples had not hitherto
believed his assurance, and that hence Jesus referred the new-born
faith of Peter to divine influence.

Thus, on the point under discussion the synoptical statement is
contradictory, not only to that of John, but to itself; it appears
therefore that it ought to be unconditionally surrendered before that
of John, which is consistent with itself, and one of our critics has
justly reproached it with deranging the messianic economy in the life
of Jesus. [763] But here again we must not lose sight of our approved
canon, that in glorifying narratives, such as our gospels, where
various statements are confronted, that is the least probable which
best subserves the object of glorification. Now this is the case with
John’s statement; according to which, from the commencement to the
close of the public life of Jesus, his Messiahship shines forth in
unchanging splendour, while, according to the synoptical writers, it is
liable to a variation in its light. But though this criterion of
probability is in favour of the first three Evangelists, it is
impossible that the order in which they make ignorance and concealment
follow on plain declarations and recognitions of the Messiahship of
Jesus can be correct; and we must suppose that they have mingled and
confounded two separate periods of the life of Jesus, in the latter of
which alone he presented himself as the Messiah. We find, in fact, that
the watchword of Jesus on his first appearance differed not, even
verbally, from that of John, who professed merely to be a forerunner;
it is the same Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand (Matt. iv.
17) with which John had roused the Jews (iii. 2); and indicates in
neither the one nor the other an assumption of the character of
Messiah, with whose coming the kingdom of heaven was actually to
commence, but merely that of a teacher who points to it as yet future.
[764] Hence the latest critic of the first gospel justly explains all
those discourses and actions therein narrated, by which Jesus
explicitly claims to be the Messiah, or, in consequence of which this
dignity is attributed to him and accepted, if they occur before the
manifestation of himself recorded in John v., or before the account of
the apostolic confession (Matt. xvi.), as offences of the writer
against chronology or literal truth. [765] We have only to premise,
that as chronological confusion prevails throughout, the position of
this confession shortly before the history of the Passion, in nowise
obliges us to suppose that it was so late before Jesus was recognised
as the Messiah among his disciples, since Peter’s avowal may have
occurred in a much earlier period of their intercourse. This, however,
is incomprehensible—that the same reproach should not attach even more
strongly to the fourth gospel than to the first, or to the synoptical
writers in general. For it is surely more pardonable that the first
three Evangelists should give us the pre-messianic memoirs in the wrong
place, than that the fourth should not give them at all; more endurable
in the former, to mingle the two periods, than in the latter, quite to
obliterate the earlier one.

If then Jesus did not lay claim to the Messiahship from the beginning
of his public career, was this omission the result of uncertainty in
his own mind; or had he from the first a conviction that he was the
Messiah, but concealed it for certain reasons? In order to decide this
question, a point already mentioned must be more carefully weighed. In
the first three Evangelists, but not so exclusively that the fourth has
nothing similar, when Jesus effects a miracle of healing he almost
invariably forbids the person cured to promulgate the event, in these
or similar words, ὅρα μηδενὶ εἴπῃς; e.g. the leper, Matt. viii. 4,
parall.; the blind men, Matt. ix. 30; a multitude of the healed, Matt.
xii. 16; the parents of the resuscitated damsel, Mark v. 43; above all
he enjoins silence on the demoniacs, Mark i. 34, iii. 12; and John v.
13, it is said, after the cure of the man at the pool of Bethesda,
Jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place. Thus
also he forbade the three who were with him on the mount of the
Transfiguration, to publish the scene they had witnessed (Matt. xvii.
9); and after the confession of Peter, he charges the disciples to tell
no man the conviction it expressed (Luke ix. 21). This prohibition of
Jesus could hardly, as most commentators suppose, [766] be determined
by various circumstantial motives, at one time having relation to the
disposition of the person healed, at another to the humour of the
people, at another to the situation of Jesus: rather, as there is an
essential similarity in the conditions under which he lays this
injunction on the people, if we discern a probable motive for it on any
occasion, we are warranted in applying the same motive to the remaining
cases. This motive is scarcely any other than the desire that the
belief that he was the Messiah should not be too widely spread. When
(Mark i. 34) Jesus would not allow the ejected demons to speak because
they knew him, when he charged the multitudes that they should not make
him known (Matt. xii. 16), he evidently intended that the former should
not proclaim him in the character in which their more penetrative,
demoniacal glance had viewed him, nor the latter in that revealed by
the miraculous cure he had wrought on them—in short, they were not to
betray their knowledge that he was the Messiah. As a reason for this
wish on the part of Jesus, it has been alleged, on the strength of John
vi. 15, that he sought to avoid awakening the political idea of the
Messiah’s kingdom in the popular mind, with the disturbance which would
be its inevitable result. [767] This would be a valid reason; but the
synoptical writers represent the wish, partly as the effect of
humility; [768] Matthew, in connexion with a prohibition of the kind
alluded to, applying to Jesus a passage in Isaiah (xlii. 1 f.) where
the servant of God is said to be distinguished by his stillness and
unobtrusiveness: partly, and in a greater degree, as the effect of an
apprehension that the Messiah, at least such an one as Jesus, would be
at once proscribed by the Jewish hierarchy.

From all this it might appear that Jesus was restrained merely by
external motives, from the open declaration of his Messiahship, and
that his own conviction of it existed from the first in equal strength;
but this conclusion cannot be maintained in the face of the
consideration above mentioned, that Jesus began his career with the
same announcement as the Baptist, an announcement which can scarcely
have more than one import—an exhortation to prepare for a coming
Messiah. The most natural supposition is that Jesus, first the disciple
of the Baptist, and afterwards his successor, in preaching repentance
and the approach of the kingdom of heaven, took originally the same
position as his former master in relation to the messianic kingdom,
notwithstanding the greater reach and liberality of his mind, and only
gradually attained the elevation of thinking himself the Messiah. This
supposition explains in the simplest manner the prohibition we have
been considering, especially that annexed to the confession of Peter.
For as often as the thought that he might be the Messiah suggested
itself to others, and was presented to him from without, Jesus must
have shrunk, as if appalled, to hear confidently uttered that which he
scarcely ventured to surmise, or which had but recently become clear to
himself. As, however, the Evangelist often put such prohibitions into
the mouth of Jesus unseasonably (witness the occasion mentioned, Matt.
viii. 4, when, after a cure effected before a crowd of spectators, it
was of little avail to enjoin secrecy on the cured), [769] it is
probable that evangelical tradition, enamoured of the mysteriousness
that lay in this incognito of Jesus, [770] unhistorically multiplied
the instances of its adoption.

§ 63.

JESUS, THE SON OF GOD.

In Luke i. 35, we find the narrowest and most literal interpretation of
the expression, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ; namely, as derived from his conception
by means of the Holy Ghost. On the contrary, the widest moral and
metaphorical sense is given to the expression in Matt. v. 45, where
those who imitate the love of God towards his enemies are called the
sons of the Father in heaven. There is an intermediate sense which we
may term the metaphysical, because while it includes more than mere
conformity of will, it is distinct from the notion of actual paternity,
and implies a spiritual community of being. In this sense it is
profusely employed and referred to in the fourth gospel; as when Jesus
says that he speaks and does nothing of himself, but only what as a son
he has learned from the Father (v. 19, xii. 49; and elsewhere), who,
moreover, is in him (xvii. 21), and notwithstanding his exaltation over
him (xiv. 28), is yet one with him (x. 30). There is yet a fourth sense
in which the expression is presented. When (Matt. iv. 3) the devil
challenges Jesus to change the stones into bread, making the
supposition, If thou be the Son of God; when Nathanael says to Jesus,
Thou art the Son of God, the King of Israel (John i. 49); when Peter
confesses, Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God (Matt. xvi.
16; comp. John vi. 69); when Martha thus expresses her faith in Jesus,
I believe that thou art the Christ, the Son of God (John xi. 27); when
the high priest adjures Jesus to tell him if he be the Christ, the Son
of God (Matt. xxvi. 63): it is obvious that the devil means nothing
more than, If thou be the Messiah; and that in the other passages the
υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, united as it is with Χριστὸς and βασιλεὺς, is but an
appellation of the Messiah.

In Hos. xi. 1; Exod. iv. 22, the people of Israel, and in 2 Sam, vii.
14; Ps. ii. 7 (comp. lxxxix. 28), the king of that people, are called
the son and the first-born of God. The kings (as also the people) of
Israel had this appellation, in virtue of the love which Jehovah bore
them, and the tutelary care which he exercised over them (2 Sam. vii.
14); and from the second psalm we gather the farther reason, that as
earthly kings choose their sons to reign with or under them, so the
Israelitish kings were invested by Jehovah, the supreme ruler, with the
government of his favourite province. Thus the designation was
originally applicable to every Israelitish king who adhered to the
principle of the theocracy; but when the messianic idea was developed,
it was pre-eminently assigned to the Messiah, as the best-beloved Son,
and the most powerful vicegerent of God on earth. [771]

If, then, such was the original historical signification of the
epithet, Son of God, as applied to the Messiah, we have to ask: is it
possible that Jesus used it of himself in this signification only, or
did he use it also in either of the three senses previously adduced?
The narrowest, the merely physical import of the term is not put into
the mouth of Jesus, but into that of the annunciating angel, Luke i.
35; and for this the Evangelist alone is responsible. In the
intermediate, metaphysical sense, implying unity of essence and
community of existence with God, it might possibly have been understood
by Jesus, supposing him to have remodelled in his own conceptions the
theocratic interpretation current among his compatriots. It is true
that the abundant expressions having this tendency in the Gospel of
John, appear to contradict those of Jesus on an occasion recorded by
the synoptical writers (Mark x. 17 f.; Luke xviii. 18 f.), when to a
disciple who accosts him as Good Master, he replies: Why callest thou
me good? there is none good but one, that is God. Here Jesus so
tenaciously maintains the distinction between himself and God, that he
renounces the predicate of (perfect) goodness, and insists on its
appropriation to God alone. [772] Olshausen supposes that this
rejection related solely to the particular circumstances of the
disciple addressed, who, regarding Jesus as a merely human teacher,
ought not from his point of view to have given him a divine epithet,
and that it was not intended by Jesus as a denial that he was,
according to a just estimate of his character, actually the ἀγαθὸς in
whom the one good Being was reflected as in a mirror; but this is to
take for granted what is first to be proved, namely, that the
declarations of Jesus concerning himself in the fourth gospel are on a
level as to credibility with those recorded by the synoptical writers.
Two of these writers cite some words of Jesus which have an important
bearing on our present subject: All things are delivered to me of my
Father: and no man knoweth the Son but the Father: neither knoweth any
man the Father, but the Son, and he to whomsoever the Son will reveal
him, Matt. xi. 27. Taking this passage in connexion with the one before
quoted, we must infer that Jesus had indeed an intimate communion of
thought and will with God, but under such limitations, that the
attribute of perfect goodness, as well as of absolute knowledge (e.g.,
of the day and hour of the last day, Mark xiii. 32 parall.) belonged
exclusively to God, and hence the boundary line between divine and
human was strictly preserved. Even in the fourth gospel Jesus declares,
My Father is greater than I, ὁ πατήρ μον μείζων μου ἐστὶ (xiv. 28), but
this slight echo of the synoptical statement does not remove the
difficulty of conciliating the numerous discourses of a totally
different tenor in the former, with the rejection of the epithet ἀγαθὸς
in the latter. It is surprising, too, that Jesus in the fourth gospel
appears altogether ignorant of the theocratic sense of the expression
υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, and can only vindicate his use of it in the metaphysical
sense, by retreating to its vague and metaphorical application. When,
namely (John x. 34 ff.), to justify his assumption of this title, he
adduces the scriptural application of the term θεοὶ to other men, such
as princes and magistrates, we are at a loss to understand why Jesus
should resort to this remote and precarious argument, when close at
hand lay the far more cogent one, that in the Old Testament, a
theocratic king of Israel, or according to the customary interpretation
of the most striking passages, the Messiah, is called the Son of
Jehovah, and that therefore he, having declared himself to be the
Messiah (v. 25), might consistently claim this appellation.

With respect to the light in which Jesus was viewed as the Son of God
by others, we may remark that in the addresses of well-affected persons
the title is often so associated as to be obviously a mere synonym of
Χριστὸς, and this even in the fourth gospel; while on the other hand
the contentious Ἰουδαῖοι of this gospel seem in their objections as
ignorant as Jesus in his defence, of the theocratic, and only notice
the metaphysical meaning of the expression. It is true that, even in
the synoptical gospels, when Jesus answers affirmatively the question
whether he be the Christ, the Son of the living God (Matt. xxvi. 65,
parall.), the high priest taxes him with blasphemy; but he refers
merely to what he considers the unwarranted arrogation of the
theocratic dignity of the Messiah, whereas in the fourth gospel, when
Jesus represents himself as the Son of God (v. 17 f., x. 30 ff.), the
Jews seek to kill him for the express reason that he thereby makes
himself ἴσον τῷ θεῷ, nay even ἑαυτὸν θεὸν. According to the synoptical
writers, the high priest so unhesitatingly considers the idea of the
Son of God to pertain to that of the Messiah, that he associates the
two titles as if they were interchangeable, in the question he
addresses to Jesus: on the contrary the Jews in the Gospel of John
regard the one idea as so far transcending the other, that they listen
patiently to the declaration of Jesus that he is the Messiah (x. 25),
but as soon as he begins to claim to be the Son of God, they take up
stones to stone him. In the synoptical gospels the reproach cast on
Jesus is, that being a common man, he gives himself out for the
Messiah; in the fourth gospel, that being a mere man, he gives himself
out for a divine being. Hence Olshausen and others have justly insisted
that in those passages of the latter gospel to which our remarks have
reference, the υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ is not synonymous with Messiah, but is a
name far transcending the ordinary idea of the Messiah; [773] they are
not, however, warranted in concluding that therefore in the first three
Evangelists also [774] the same expression imports more than the
Messiah. For the only legitimate interpretation of the high priest’s
question in Matthew makes ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ a synonym of ὁ Χριστὸς, and
though in the parallel passage of Luke, the judges first ask Jesus if
he be the Christ (xxii. 67)? and when he declines a direct
answer,—predicting that they will behold the Son of man seated at the
right hand of God,—hastily interrupt him with the question, Art thou
the Son of God? (v. 70); yet, after receiving what they consider an
affirmative answer, they accuse him before Pilate as one who pretends
to be Christ, a king (xxiii. 2), thus clearly showing that Son of man,
Son of God, and Messiah, must have been regarded as interchangeable
terms. It must therefore be conceded that there is a discrepancy on
this point between the synoptical writers and John, and perhaps also an
inconsistency of the latter with himself; for in several addresses to
Jesus he retains the customary form, which associated Son of God with
Christ or King of Israel, without being conscious of the distinction
between the signification which υἱὸς τ. θ. must have in such a
connexion, and that in which he used it elsewhere—a want of perception
which habitual forms of expression are calculated to induce. We have
before cited examples of this oversight in the fourth Evangelist (John
i. 49, vi. 69, xi. 27).

The author of the Probabilia reasonably considers it suspicious that,
in the fourth gospel, Jesus and his opponents should appear entirely
ignorant of the theocratic sense which is elsewhere attached to the
expression ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, and which must have been more familiar to
the Jews than any other, unless we suppose some of them to have
partaken of Alexandrian culture. To such, we grant, as well as to the
fourth Evangelist, judging from his prologue, the metaphysical relation
of the λόγος μονογενὴς to God would be the most cherished association.

§ 64.

THE DIVINE MISSION AND AUTHORITY OF JESUS. HIS PRE-EXISTENCE.

The four Evangelists are in unison as to the declaration of Jesus
concerning his divine mission and authority. Like every prophet, he is
sent by God (Matt. x. 40; John v. 23 f., 56 f.), acts and speaks by the
authority, and under the immediate guidance of God (John v. 19 ff.),
and exclusively possesses an adequate knowledge of God, which it is his
office to impart to men (Matt xi. 27; John iii. 13). To him, as the
Messiah, all power is given (Matt. xi. 27); first, over the kingdom
which he is appointed to found and to rule with all its members (John
x. 29, xvii. 6); next, over mankind in general (John xvii. 2), and even
external nature (Matt, xxviii. 18); consequently, should the interests
of the messianic kingdom demand it, power to effect a thorough
revolution in the whole world. At the future commencement of his reign,
Jesus, as Messiah, is authorized to awake the dead (John v. 28), and to
sit as a judge, separating those worthy to partake of the heavenly
kingdom from the unworthy (Matt. xxv. 31 ff.; John v. 22, 29); offices
which Jewish opinion attributed to the Messiah, [775] and which Jesus,
once convinced of his Messiahship, would necessarily transfer to
himself.

The Evangelists are not equally unanimous on another point. According
to the synoptical writers, Jesus claims, it is true, the highest human
dignity, and the most exalted relation with God, for the present and
future, but he never refers to an existence anterior to his earthly
career: in the fourth gospel, on the contrary, we find several
discourses of Jesus which contain the repeated assertion of such a
pre-existence. We grant that when Jesus describes himself as coming
down from heaven (John iii. 13, xvi. 28), the expression, taken alone,
may be understood as a merely figurative intimation of his superhuman
origin. It is more difficult, but perhaps admissible, to interpret,
with the Socinian Crell, the declaration of Jesus, Before Abraham was,
I am, πρὶν Ἀβραὰμ γενέσθαι, ἐγω εἰμι (John viii. 58), as referring to a
purely ideal existence in the pre-determination of God; but scarcely
possible to consider the prayer to the Father (John xvii. 5) to confirm
the δόξα (glory) which Jesus had with Him before the world was, πρὸ τοῦ
τὸν κόσμον εἶναι, as an entreaty for the communication of a glory
predestined for Jesus from eternity. But the language of Jesus, John
vi. 62, where he speaks of the Son of man reascending αναβαίνειν where
he was before ὅπου ἦν τὸ πρότερον, is in its intrinsic meaning, as well
as in that which is reflected on it from other passages, unequivocally
significative of actual, not merely ideal, pre-existence.

It has been already conjectured [776] that these expressions, or at
least the adaptation of them to a real pre-existence, are derived, not
from Jesus, but from the author of the fourth gospel, with whose
opinions, as propounded in his introduction, they specifically agree;
for if the Word was in the beginning with God (ἐν ἀρχῇ πρὸς τὸν θέον),
Jesus, in whom it was made flesh, might attribute to himself an
existence before Abraham, and a participation of glory with the Father
before the foundation of the world. Nevertheless, we are not warranted
in adopting this view, unless it can be shown that neither was the idea
of the pre-existence of the Messiah extant among the Jews of Palestine
before the time of Jesus, nor is it probable that Jesus attained such a
notion, independently of the ideas peculiar to his age and nation.

The latter supposition, that Jesus spoke from his own memory of his
pre-human and pre-mundane existence, is liable to comparison with
dangerous parallels in the history of Pythagoras, Ennius, and
Apollonius of Tyana, whose alleged reminiscences of individual states
which they had experienced prior to their birth, [777] are now
generally regarded either as subsequent fables, or as enthusiastic
self-delusions of those celebrated men. For the other alternative, that
the idea in question was common to the Jewish nation, a presumption may
be found in the description, already quoted from Daniel, of the Son of
man coming in the clouds of heaven, since the author, possibly, and, at
all events, many readers, imagined that personage to be a superhuman
being, dwelling beforehand with God, like the angels. But that every
one who referred this passage to the Messiah, or that Jesus in
particular, associated with it the notion of a pre-existence, is not to
be proved; for, if we exclude the representation of John, Jesus depicts
his coming in the clouds of heaven, not as if he had come as a visitant
to earth from his home in heaven, but, according to Matt. xxvi. 65
(comp. xxiv. 25), as if he, the earth-born, after the completion of his
earthly course, would be received into heaven, and from thence would
return to establish his kingdom: thus making the coming from heaven not
necessarily include the idea of pre-existence. We find in the Proverbs,
in Sirach, and the Book of Wisdom, the idea of a personified and even
hypostasized Wisdom of God, and in the Psalms and Prophets, strongly
marked personifications of the Divine word; [778] and it is especially
worthy of note, that the later Jews, in their horror of
anthropomorphism in the idea of the Divine being, attributed his
speech, appearance, and immediate agency, to the Word (‏מימרא‎) or the
dwelling place (‏שׁכינתא‎) of Jehovah, as may be seen in the venerable
[779] Targum of Onkelos. [780] These expressions, at first mere
paraphrases of the name of God, soon received the mystical
signification of a veritable hypostasis, of a being at once distinct
from, and one with God. As most of the revelations and interpositions
of God, whose organ this personified Word was considered to be, were
designed in favour of the Israelitish people, it was natural for them
to assign to the manifestation which was still awaited from Him, and
which was to be the crowning benefit of Israel,—the manifestation,
namely, of the Messiah,—a peculiar relation with the Word or Shechina.
[781] From this germ sprang the opinion that with the Messiah the
Shechina would appear, and that what was ascribed to the Shechina
pertained equally to the Messiah: an opinion not confined to the
Rabbins, but sanctioned by the Apostle Paul. According to it, the
Messiah was, even in the wilderness, the invisible guide and benefactor
of God’s people (1 Cor. x. 4, 9); [782] he was with our first parents
in Paradise; [783] he was the agent in creation (Col. i. 16); he even
existed before the creation, [784] and prior to his incarnation in
Jesus, was in a glorious fellowship with God (Phil. ii. 6).

As it is thus evident that, immediately after the time of Jesus, the
idea of a pre-existence of the Messiah was incorporated in the higher
Jewish theology, it is no far-fetched conjecture, that the same idea
was afloat when the mind of Jesus was maturing, and that in his
conception of himself as the Messiah, this attribute was included. But
whether Jesus were as deeply initiated in the speculations of the
Jewish schools as Paul, is yet a question, and as the author of the
fourth gospel, versed in the Alexandrian doctrine of the λόγος, stands
alone in ascribing to Jesus the assertion of a pre-existence, we are
unable to decide whether we are to put the dogma to the account of
Jesus, or of his biographer.

§ 65.

THE MESSIANIC PLAN OF JESUS. INDICATIONS OF A POLITICAL ELEMENT.

The Baptist pointed to a future individual, and Jesus to himself, as
the founder of the kingdom of heaven. The idea of that messianic
kingdom belonged to the Israelitish nation; did Jesus hold it in the
form in which it existed among his cotemporaries, or under
modifications of his own?

The idea of the Messiah grew up amongst the Jews in soil half
religious, half political: it was nurtured by national adversity, and
in the time of Jesus, according to the testimony of the gospels, it was
embodied in the expectation that the Messiah would ascend the throne of
his ancestor David, free the Jewish people from the Roman yoke, and
found a kingdom which would last for ever (Luke i. 32 f., 68 ff.; Acts
i. 6). Hence our first question must be this. Did Jesus include this
political element in his messianic plan?

That Jesus aspired to be a temporal ruler, has at all times been an
allegation of the adversaries of Christianity, but has been maintained
by none with so much exegetical acumen as by the author of the
Wolfenbüttel Fragments, [785] who, be it observed, by no means denies
to Jesus the praise of aiming at the moral reformation of his nation.
According to this writer, the first indication of a political plan on
the part of Jesus is, that he unambiguously announced the approaching
messianic kingdom, and laid down the conditions on which it was to be
entered, without explaining what this kingdom was, and wherein it
consisted, [786] as if he supposed the current idea of its nature to be
correct. Now the fact is, that the prevalent conception of the
messianic reign had a strong political bias; hence, when Jesus spoke of
the Messiah’s kingdom without a definition, the Jews could only think
of an earthly dominion, and as Jesus could not have presupposed any
other interpretation of his words, he must have wished to be so
understood. But in opposition to this it may be remarked, that in the
Parables by which Jesus shadowed forth the kingdom of heaven; in the
Sermon on the Mount, in which he illustrates the duties of its
citizens; and lastly, in his whole demeanour and course of action, we
have sufficient evidence, that his idea of the messianic kingdom was
peculiar to himself. There is not so ready a counterpoise for the
difficulty, that Jesus sent the apostles, with whose conceptions he
could not be unacquainted, to announce the Messiah’s kingdom throughout
the land (Matt. x.). These, who disputed which of them should be
greatest in the kingdom of their master (Matt, xviii. 1; Luke xxii.
24); of whom two petitioned for the seats at the right and left of the
messianic king (Mark x. 35 ff.); who, even after the death and
resurrection of Jesus, expected a restoration of the kingdom to Israel
(Acts i. 6);—these had clearly from the beginning to the end of their
intercourse with Jesus, no other than the popular notion of the
Messiah; when, therefore, Jesus despatched them as heralds of his
kingdom, it seems necessarily a part of his design, that they should
disseminate in all places their political messianic idea.

Among the discourses of Jesus there is one especially worthy of note in
Matt. xix. 28 (comp. Luke xxii. 30). In reply to the question of Peter,
We have left all and followed thee; what shall we have therefore? Jesus
promises to his disciples that in the παλιγγενεσία, when the Son of man
shall sit on his throne, they also shall sit on twelve thrones, judging
the twelve tribes of Israel. That the literal import of this promise
formed part of the tissue of the messianic hopes cherished by the Jews
of that period, is not to be controverted. It is argued, however, that
Jesus spoke figuratively on this occasion, and only employed familiar
Jewish images to convey to the apostles an assurance, that the
sacrifices they had made here would be richly compensated in their
future life by a participation in his glory. [787] But the disciples
must have understood the promise literally, when, even after the
resurrection of Jesus, they harboured anticipations of worldly
greatness; and as Jesus had had many proofs of this propensity, he
would hardly have adopted such language, had he not intended to nourish
their temporal hopes. The supposition that he did so merely to animate
the courage of his disciples, without himself sharing their views,
imputes duplicity to Jesus;—a duplicity in this case quite gratuitous,
since, as Olshausen justly observes, Peter’s question would have been
satisfactorily answered by any other laudatory acknowledgment of the
devotion of the disciples. Hence it appears a fair inference, that
Jesus himself shared the Jewish expectations which he here sanctions:
but expositors have made the most desperate efforts to escape from this
unwelcome conclusion. Some have resorted to an arbitrary alteration of
the reading; [788] others to the detection of irony, directed against
the disproportion between the pretensions of the disciples, and their
trivial services, [789] others to different expedients, but all more
unnatural than the admission, that Jesus, in accordance with Jewish
ideas, here promises his disciples the dignity of being his assessors
in his visible messianic judgment, and that he thus indicates the
existence of a national element in his notion of the Messiah’s kingdom.
It is observable, too, that in the Acts (i. 7), Jesus, even after his
resurrection, does not deny that he will restore the kingdom to Israel,
but merely discourages curiosity as to the times and seasons of its
restoration.

Among the actions of Jesus, his last entry into Jerusalem (Matt. xxi. 1
ff.) is especially appealed to as a proof that his plan was partly
political. According to the Fragmentist, all the circumstances point to
a political design: the time which Jesus chose,—after a sufficiently
long preparation of the people in the provinces; the Passover, which
they visited in great numbers; the animal on which he rode, and by
which, from a popular interpretation of a passage in Zechariah, he
announced himself as the destined King of Jerusalem; the approval which
he pronounces when the people receive him with a royal greeting; the
violent procedure which he hazards in the temple; and finally, his
severe philippic on the higher class of the Jews (Matt. xxiii.), at the
close of which he seeks to awe them into a reception of him as their
messianic king, by the threat that he will show himself to them no more
in any other guise.

§ 66.

DATA FOR THE PURE SPIRITUALITY OF THE MESSIANIC PLAN OF JESUS. BALANCE.

Nowhere in our evangelical narratives is there a trace of Jesus having
sought to form a political party. On the contrary, he withdraws from
the eagerness of the people to make him a king (John vi. 15); he
declares that the messianic kingdom comes not with observation, but is
to be sought for in the recesses of the soul (Luke xvii. 20 f.); it is
his principle to unite obedience to God with obedience to temporal
authority, even when heathen (Matt. xxii. 21); on his solemn entry into
the capital, he chooses to ride the animal of peace, and afterwards
escapes from the multitude, instead of using their excitement for the
purposes of his ambition; lastly, he maintains before his judge, that
his kingdom is not from hence οὐκ ἐντεῦθεν, is not of this world οὐκ ἐκ
τοῦ κόσμου τούτου (John xvi. 36), and we have no reason in this
instance to question either his or the Evangelist’s veracity.

Thus we have a series of indications to counterbalance those detailed
in the preceding section. The adversaries of Christianity have held
exclusively to the arguments for a political, or rather a
revolutionary, project, on the part of Jesus, while the orthodox
theologians adhere to those only which tell for the pure spirituality
of his plan: [790] and each party has laboured to invalidate by
hermeneutical skill the passages unfavourable to its theory. It has of
late been acknowledged that both are equally partial, and that there is
need of arbitration between them.

This has been attempted chiefly by supposing an earlier and a later
form of the plan of Jesus. [791] Although, it has been said, the moral
improvement and religious elevation of his people were from the first
the primary object of Jesus, he nevertheless, in the beginning of his
public life, cherished the hope of reviving, by means of this internal
regeneration, the external glories of the theocracy, when he should be
acknowledged by his nation as the Messiah, and thereby be constituted
the supreme authority in the state. But in the disappointment of this
hope, he recognised the divine rejection of every political element in
his plan, and thenceforth refined it into pure spirituality. It is held
to be a presumption in favour of such a change in the plan of Jesus,
that there is a gladness diffused over his first appearance, which
gives place to melancholy in the latter period of his ministry; that
instead of the acceptable year of the Lord, announced in his initiative
address at Nazareth, sorrow is the burthen of his later discourses, and
he explicitly says of Jerusalem, that he had attempted to save it, but
that now its fall, both religious and political, was inevitable, As,
however, the evangelists do not keep the events and discourses proper
to these distinct periods within their respective limits, but happen to
give the two most important data for the imputation of a political
design to Jesus (namely the promise of the twelve thrones and the
public entrance into the capital), near the close of his life; we must
attribute to these writers a chronological confusion, as in the case of
the relation which the views of Jesus bore to the messianic idea in
general: unless as an alternative it be conceivable, that Jesus uttered
during the same period the declarations which seem to indicate, and
those which disclaim, a political design.

This, in our apprehension, is not inconceivable; for Jesus might
anticipate a καθίζεσθαι ἐπὶ θρόνους for himself and his disciples, not
regarding the means of its attainment as a political revolution, but as
a revolution to be effected by the immediate interposition of God. That
such was his view may be inferred from his placing that judiciary
appearance of his disciples in the παλιγγενεσία; for this was not a
political revolution, any more than a spiritual regeneration,—it was a
resurrection of the dead, which God was to effect through the agency of
the Messiah, and which was to usher in the messianic times. [792] Jesus
certainly expected to restore the throne of David, and with his
disciples to govern a liberated people; in no degree, however, did he
rest his hopes on the sword of human adherents (Luke xxii. 38; Matt.
xxvi. 52), but on the legions of angels, which his heavenly Father
could send him (Matt. xxvi. 53). Wherever he speaks of coming in his
messianic glory, he depicts himself surrounded by angels and heavenly
powers (Matt. xvi. 27, xxiv. 30 f., xxv. 31; John i. 52); before the
majesty of the Son of man, coming in the clouds of heaven, all nations
are to bow without the coercion of the sword, and at the sound of the
angel’s trumpet, are to present themselves, with the awakened dead,
before the judgment-seat of the Messiah and his twelve apostles. All
this Jesus would not bring to pass of his own will, but he waited for a
signal from his heavenly Father, who alone knew the appropriate time
for this catastrophe (Mark xiii. 32), and he apparently was not
disconcerted when his end approached without his having received the
expected intimation. They who shrink from this view, merely because
they conceive that it makes Jesus an enthusiast, [793] will do well to
reflect how closely such hopes corresponded with the long cherished
messianic idea of the Jews, [794] and how easily, in that day of
supernaturalism, and in a nation segregated by the peculiarities of its
faith, an idea, in itself extravagant, if only it were consistent, and
had, in some of its aspects, truth and dignity, might allure even a
reasonable man beneath its influence.

With respect to that which awaits the righteous after
judgment,—everlasting life in the kingdom of the Father,—it is true
that Jesus, in accordance with Jewish notions, [795] compares it to a
feast (Matt. viii. 11, xxii. 2 ff.), at which he hopes himself to taste
the fruit of the vine (Matt. xxvi. 29), and to celebrate the Passover
(Luke xxii. 16); but his declaration that in the αἰὼν μέλλων the
organic relation between the sexes will cease, and men will be like the
angels (ἰσάγγελοι, Luke xx. 35 ff.), seems more or less to reduce the
above discourses to a merely symbolical significance.

Thus we conclude that the messianic hope of Jesus was not political,
nor even merely earthly, for he referred its fulfilment to supernatural
means, and to a supermundane theatre (the regenerated earth): as little
was it a purely spiritual hope, in the modern sense of the term, for it
included important and unprecedented changes in the external condition
of things: but it was the national, theocratic hope, spiritualized and
ennobled by his own peculiar moral and religious views.

§ 67.

THE RELATION OF JESUS TO THE MOSAIC LAW.

The Mosaic institutions were actually extinguished in the church of
which Jesus was the founder; hence it is natural to suppose that their
abolition formed a part of his design:—a reach of vision, beyond the
horizon of the ceremonial worship of his age and country, of which
apologists have been ever anxious to prove that he was possessed. [796]
Neither are there wanting speeches and actions of Jesus which seem to
favour their effort. Whenever he details the conditions of
participation in the kingdom of heaven, as in the Sermon on the Mount,
he insists, not on the observance of the Mosaic ritual, but on the
spirit of religion and morality; he attaches no value to fasting,
praying, and almsgiving, unless accompanied by a corresponding bent of
mind (Matt. vi. 1–18); the two main elements of the Mosaic worship,
sacrifice and the keeping of sabbaths and feasts, he not only nowhere
enjoins, but puts a marked slight on the former, by commending the
scribe who declared that the love of God and one’s neighbour was more
than whole burnt-offerings and sacrifices, as one not far from the
kingdom of God (Mark xii. 23 f.), [797] and he ran counter in action as
well as in speech to the customary mode of celebrating the Sabbath
(Matt. xii. 1–13; Mark ii. 23–28, iii. 1–5; Luke vi. 1–10, xiii. 10
ff., xiv. 1 ff.; John v. 5 ff., vii. 22, ix. 1 ff.), of which in his
character of Son of Man he claimed to be Lord. The Jews, too, appear to
have expected a revision of the Mosaic law by their Messiah. [798] A
somewhat analogous sense is couched in the declarations attributed by
the fourth Evangelist to Jesus (ii. 19); Matthew (xxvi. 61) and Mark
(xiv. 58) represent him as being accused by false witnesses of saying,
I am able to destroy (John, destroy) the temple of God (Mark, that is
made with hands), and to build it in three days (Mark, I will build
another made without hands). The author of the Acts has something
similar as an article of accusation against Stephen, but instead of the
latter half of the sentence it is thus added, and (he, i.e. Jesus)
shall change the customs which Moses delivered us; and perhaps this may
be regarded as an authentic comment on the less explicit text. In
general it may be said that to one who, like Jesus, is so far alive to
the absolute value of the internal compared with the external, of the
bent of the entire disposition compared with isolated acts, that he
pronounces the love of God and our neighbour to be the essence of the
law (Matt. xxii. 36 ff.),—to him it cannot be a secret, that all
precepts of the law which do not bear on these two points are
unessential. But the argument apparently most decisive of a design on
the part of Jesus to abolish the Mosaic worship, is furnished by his
prediction that the temple, the centre of Jewish worship (Matt. xxiv. 2
parall.), would be destroyed, and that the adoration of God would be
freed from local fetters, and become purely spiritual (John iv. 21
ff.).

The above, however, presents only one aspect of the position assumed by
Jesus towards the Mosaic law; there are also data for the belief that
he did not meditate the overthrow of the ancient constitution of his
country. This side of the question has been, at a former period, and
from easily-conceived reasons, the one which the enemies of
Christianity in its ecclesiastical form, have chosen to exhibit; [799]
but it is only in recent times that, the theological horizon being
extended, the unprejudiced expositors of the church [800] have
acknowledged its existence. In the first place, during his life Jesus
remains faithful to the paternal law; he attends the synagogue on the
sabbath, journeys to Jerusalem at the time of the feast, and eats of
the paschal lamb with his disciples. It is true that he heals on the
sabbath, allows his disciples to pluck ears of corn (Matt. xii. 1 ff.),
and requires no fasting or washing before meat in his society (Matt.
iv. 14, xv. 2). But the Mosaic law concerning the sabbath simply
prescribed cessation from common labour, ‏מְלָאכָה‎ (Exod. xx. 8 ff.,
xxxi. 12 ff., Deut. v. 12 ff.), including ploughing, reaping (Exod.
xxxiv. 21), gathering of sticks (Num. xv. 32 ff.), and similar work,
and it was only the spirit of petty observance, the growth of a later
age, that made it an offence to perform cures, or pluck a few ears of
corn. [801] The washing of hands before eating was but a rabbinical
custom; [802] in the law one general yearly fast was alone prescribed
(Lev. xvi. 29 ff., xxiii. 27 ff.) and no private fasting required;
hence Jesus cannot be convicted of infringing the precepts of Moses.
[803] In that very Sermon on the Mount in which Jesus exalts spiritual
religion so far above all ritual, he clearly presupposes the
continuation of sacrifices (Matt. v. 23 f.), and declares that he is
not come to destroy the law and the prophets, but to fulfil (Matt. v.
17). Even if πληρῶσαι, in all probability, refers chiefly to the
accomplishment of the Old Testament prophecies, οὐκ ἦλθον καταλῦσαι
must at the same time be understood of the conservation of the Mosaic
law, since in the context, perpetuity is promised to its smallest
letter, and he who represents its lightest precept as not obligatory,
is threatened with the lowest rank in the kingdom of heaven. [804] In
accordance with this, the apostles adhered strictly to the Mosaic law,
even after the feast of Pentecost; they went at the hour of prayer into
the temple (Acts iii. 1), clung to the synagogues and to the Mosaic
injunctions respecting food (x. 14), and were unable to appeal to any
express declaration of Jesus as a sanction for the procedure of
Barnabas and Paul, when the judaizing party complained of their
baptizing Gentiles without laying on them the burthen of the Mosaic
law.

This apparent contradiction in the conduct and language of Jesus has
been apologetically explained by the supposition, that not only the
personal obedience of Jesus to the law, but also his declarations in
its favour, were a necessary concession to the views of his
cotemporaries, who would at once have withdrawn their confidence from
him, had he announced himself as the destroyer of their holy and
venerated law. [805] We allow that the obedience of Jesus to the law in
his own person, might be explained in the same way as that of Paul,
which, on his own showing, was a measure of mere expediency (1 Cor. ix.
20, comp. Acts xvi. 3). But the strong declarations of Jesus concerning
the perpetuity of the law, and the guilt of him who dares to violate
its lightest precept, cannot possibly be derived from the principle of
concession; for to pronounce that indispensable, which one secretly
holds superfluous, and which one even seeks to bring gradually into
disuse, would, leaving honesty out of the question, be in the last
degree injudicious.

Hence others have made a distinction between the moral and the ritual
law, and referred the declaration of Jesus that he wished not to
abrogate the law, to the former alone, which he extricated from a web
of trivial ceremonies, and embodied in his own example. [806] But such
a distinction is not found in those striking passages from the Sermon
on the Mount; rather in the νόμος and προφῆται, the law and the
prophets, we have the most comprehensive designation of the whole
religious constitution of the Old Testament, [807] and under the most
trivial commandment, and the smallest letter of the law, alike
pronounced imperishable, we cannot well understand anything else than
the ceremonial precepts. [808]

A happier distinction is that between really Mosaic institutes, and
their traditional amplifications. [809] It is certain that the sabbath
cures of Jesus, his neglect of the pedantic ablutions before eating,
and the like, ran counter, not to Moses, but to later rabbinical
requirements, and several discourses of Jesus turn upon this
distinction. Matt. xv. 3 ff., Jesus places the commandment of God in
opposition to the tradition of the elders, and Matt. xxiii. 23, he
declares that where they are compatible, the former may be observed
without rejecting the latter, in which case he admonishes the people to
do all that the scribes and Pharisees enjoin; where, on the contrary,
either the one or the other only can be respected, he decides that it
is better to transgress the tradition of the elders, than the
commandment of God as given by Moses (Matt. xv. 3 ff.). He describes
the mass of traditional precepts, as a burthen grievous to be borne,
which he would remove from the oppressed people, substituting his own
light burthen and easy yoke; whence it may be seen, that with all his
forbearance towards existing institutions, so far as they were not
positively pernicious, it was his intention that all these commandments
of men, as plants which his heavenly Father had not planted, should be
rooted up (xv. 9, 13). The majority of the Pharisaical precepts
referred to externals, and had the effect of burying the noble morality
of the Mosaic law under a heap of ceremonial observances; a gift to the
temple sufficed to absolve the giver from his filial duties (xv. 5),
and the payment of tithe of anise and cummin superseded justice, mercy,
and faith (xxiii. 23). Hence this distinction is in some degree
identical with the former, since in the rabbinical institutes it was
their merely ceremonial tendency that Jesus censured, while, in the
Mosaic law, it was the kernel of religion and morality that he chiefly
valued. It must only not be contended that he regarded the Mosaic law
as permanent solely in its spiritual part, for the passages quoted,
especially from the Sermon on the Mount, clearly show that he did not
contemplate the abolition of the merely ritual precepts.

Jesus, supposing that he had discerned morality and the spiritual
worship of God to be the sole essentials in religion, must have
rejected all which, being merely ritual and formal, had usurped the
importance of a religious obligation, and under this description must
fall a large proportion of the Mosaic precepts; but it is well known
how slowly such consequences are deduced, when they come into collision
with usages consecrated by antiquity. Even Samuel, apparently, was
aware that obedience is better than sacrifice (1 Sam. xv. 22), and
Asaph, that an offering of thanksgiving is more acceptable to God than
one of slain animals (Ps. 1.); yet how long after were sacrifices
retained together with true obedience, or in its stead! Jesus was more
thoroughly penetrated with this conviction than those ancients; with
him, the true commandments of God in the Mosaic law were simply, Honour
thy father and thy mother, Thou shalt not kill, etc., and above all,
Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour
as thyself. But his deep-rooted respect for the sacred book of the law,
caused him, for the sake of these essential contents, to honour the
unessential; which was the more natural, as in comparison with the
absurdly exaggerated pedantry of the traditional observances, the
ritual of the Pentateuch must have appeared highly simple. To honour
this latter part of the law as of Divine origin, but to declare it
abrogated on the principle, that in the education of the human race,
God finds necessary for an earlier period an arrangement which is
superfluous for a later one, implies that idea of the law as a
schoolmaster, νόμος παιδαγωγὸς (Gal. iii. 24), which seems first to
have been developed by the Apostle Paul; nevertheless, its germ lies in
the declaration of Jesus, that God had permitted to the early Hebrews,
on account of the hardness of their hearts (Matt. xix. 8 f.), many
things which, in a more advanced state of culture, were inadmissible.

A similar limitation of the duration of the law is involved in the
predictions of Jesus (if indeed they were uttered by Jesus, a point
which we have to discuss), that the temple would be destroyed at his
approaching advent (Matt. xxiv. parall.), and that devotion would be
freed from all local restrictions (John iv.); for with these must fall
the entire Mosaic system of external worship. This is not contradicted
by the declaration that the law would endure until heaven and earth
should pass away (Matt. v. 18), for the Hebrew associated the fall of
his state and sanctuary with the end of the old world or dispensation,
so that the expressions, so long as the temple stands, and so long as
the world stands, were equivalent. [810] It is true that the words of
Jesus, Luke xvi. 16, ὁ νόμος καὶ οἱ προφῆται ἕως Ἰωάννου, seem to
imply, that the appearance of the Baptist put an end to the validity of
the law; but this passage loses its depreciatory sense when compared
with its parallel, Matt xi. 13. On the other hand, Luke xvi. 17
controls Matt. v. 18, and reduces it to a mere comparison between the
stability of the law, and that of heaven and earth. The only question
then is, in which of the gospels are the two passages more correctly
stated? As given in the first, they intimate that the law would retain
its supremacy until, and not after, the close of the old dispensation.
With this agrees the prediction, that the temple would be destroyed;
for the spiritualization of religion, and, according to Stephen’s
interpretation, the abolition of the Mosaic law, which were to be the
results of that event, were undoubtedly identified by Jesus with the
commencement of the αἰὼν μέλλων of the Messiah. Hence it appears, that
the only difference between the view of Paul and that of Jesus is this:
that the latter anticipated the extinction of the Mosaic system as a
concomitant of his glorious advent or return to the regenerated earth,
while the former believed its abolition permissible on the old,
unregenerated earth, in virtue of the Messiah’s first advent. [811]

§ 68.

SCOPE OF THE MESSIANIC PLAN OF JESUS. RELATION TO THE GENTILES.

Although the church founded by Jesus did, in fact, early extend itself
beyond the limits of the Jewish people, there are yet indications which
might induce a belief that he did not contemplate such an extension.
[812] When he sends the twelve on their first mission, his command is,
Go not into the way of the Gentiles—Go rather to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel (Matt. x. 5 f.). That Matthew alone has this
injunction, and not the two other synoptists, is less probably
explained by the supposition that the Hebrew author of the first gospel
interpolated it, than by the opposite one, namely, that it was wilfully
omitted by the Hellenistic authors of the second and third gospels.
For, as the judaizing tendency of Matthew is not so marked that he
assigns to Jesus the intention of limiting the messianic kingdom to the
Jews; as, on the contrary, he makes Jesus unequivocally foretell the
calling of the Gentiles (viii. 11 f., xxi. 33 ff., xxii. 1 ff., xxviii.
19 f.): he had no motive for fabricating this particularizing addition;
but the two other Evangelists had a strong one for its omission, in the
offence which it would cause to the Gentiles already within the fold.
Its presence in Matthew, however, demands an explanation, and
expositors have thought to furnish one by supposing the injunction of
Jesus to be a measure of prudence. [813] It is unquestionable that,
even if the plan of Jesus comprehended the Gentiles as well as the
Jews, he must at first, if he would not for ever ruin his cause with
his fellow-countrymen, adopt, and prescribe to the disciples, a rule of
national exclusiveness. This necessity on his part might account for
his answer to the Canaanitish woman, whose daughter he refuses to heal,
because he was only sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel
(Matt. xv. 24), were it not that the boon which he here denies is not a
reception into the messianic kingdom, but a temporal benefit, such as
even Elijah and Elisha had conferred on those who were not Israelites
(1 Kings xvii. 9 ff.; 2 Kings v. 1 ff.)—examples to which Jesus
elsewhere appeals (Luke iv. 25 ff.). Hence the disciples thought it
natural and unobjectionable to grant the woman’s petition, and it could
not be prudential considerations that withheld Jesus, for a time, from
compliance. That an aversion to the Gentiles may not appear to be his
motive, it has been conjectured [814] that Jesus, wishing to preserve
an incognito in that country, avoided the performance of any messianic
work. But such a design of concealment is only mentioned by Mark (vii.
25), who represents it as being defeated by the entreaties of the
woman, contrary to the inclinations of Jesus; and as this Evangelist
omits the declaration of Jesus, that he was not sent but to the lost
sheep of the house of Israel, we must suspect that he was guided by the
wish to supply a less offensive motive for the conduct of Jesus, rather
than by historical accuracy. Had Jesus really been influenced by the
motive which Mark assigns, he must at once have alleged it to his
disciples instead of a merely ostensible one, calculated to strengthen
their already rigid exclusiveness. We should therefore rather listen to
the opinion that Jesus sought, by his repeated refusal, to prove the
faith of the woman, and furnish an occasion for its exhibition, [815]
if we could find in the text the slightest trace of mere dissimulation;
and none of a real change of mind. [816] Even Mark, bent as he was on
softening the features of the incident, cannot have thought of a
dissimulation of this kind; otherwise, instead of omitting the harsh
words and making the inadequate addition, and would have no man know
it, he would have removed the offence in the most satisfactory manner,
by an observation such as, he said this to prove her (comp. John vi.
6). Thus it must be allowed that Jesus in this case seems to share the
antipathy of his countrymen towards the Gentiles, nay, his antipathy
seems to be of a deeper stamp than that of his disciples; unless their
advocacy of the woman be a touch from the pencil of tradition, for the
sake of contrast and grouping.

This narrative, however, is neutralized by another, in which Jesus is
said to act in a directly opposite manner. The centurion of Capernaum,
also a Gentile (as we gather from the remarks of Jesus), has scarcely
complained of a distress similar to that of the Canaanitish woman, when
Jesus himself volunteers to go and heal his servant (Matt. viii. 5).
If, then, Jesus has no hesitation, in this instance, to exercise his
power of healing in favour of a heathen, how comes it that he refuses
to do so in another quite analogous case? Truly if the relative
position of the two narratives in the gospels have any weight, he must
have shown himself more harsh and narrow at the later period than at
the earlier one. Meanwhile, this single act of benevolence to a
Gentile, standing as it does in inexplicable contradiction to the
narrative above examined, cannot prove, in opposition to the command
expressly given to the disciples, not to go to the Gentiles, that Jesus
contemplated their admission as such into the messianic kingdom.

Even the prediction of Jesus that the kingdom of heaven would be taken
from the Jews and given to the Gentiles, does not prove this. In the
above interview with the centurion of Capernaum, Jesus declares that
many shall come from the east and the west, and sit down with the
patriarchs in the kingdom of heaven, while the children of the kingdom
(obviously the Jews), for whom it was originally designed, will be cast
out (Matt. viii. 11 f.). Yet more decidedly, when applying the parable
of the husbandmen in the vineyard, he warns his countrymen that the
kingdom of God shall be taken from them, and given to a nation bringing
forth the fruits thereof (Matt. xxi. 43). All this may be understood in
the sense intended by the prophets, in their promises that the
messianic kingdom would extend to all nations; namely, that the
Gentiles would turn to the worship of Jehovah, embrace the Mosaic
religion in its entire form, and afterwards be received into the
Messiah’s kingdom. It would accord very well with this expectation,
that, prior to such a conversion, Jesus should forbid his disciples to
direct their announcement of his kingdom to the Gentiles.

But in the discourses concerning his re-appearance, Jesus regards the
publication of the gospel to all nations as one of the circumstances
that must precede that event (Matt. xxiv. 14; Mark xiii. 10); and after
his resurrection, according to the synoptists, he gave his disciples
the command, Go ye, and teach all nations, baptizing them, etc. (Matt.
xxviii. 19; Mark xvi. 15; Luke xxiv. 47); i.e. go to them with the
offer of the Messiah’s kingdom, even though they may not beforehand
have become Jews. Not only, however, do the disciples, after the first
Pentecost, neglect to execute this command, but when a case is thrust
on them which offers them an opportunity for compliance with it, they
act as if they were altogether ignorant that such a direction had been
given by Jesus (Acts x., xi.). The heathen centurion Cornelius, worthy,
from his devout life, of a reception into the messianic community, is
pointed out by an angel to the Apostle Peter. But because it was not
hidden from God, with what difficulty the apostle would be induced to
receive a heathen, without further preliminary, into the Messiah’s
kingdom, he saw it needful to prepare him for such a step by a
symbolical vision. In consequence of such an admonition Peter goes to
Cornelius; but to impel him to baptize him and his family, he needs a
second sign, the pouring out of the Holy Ghost on these uncircumcised.
When, subsequently, the Jewish Christians in Jerusalem call him to
account for this reception of Gentiles, Peter appeals in his
justification solely to the recent vision, and to the Holy Ghost given
to the centurion’s family. Whatever judgment we may form of the
credibility of this history, it is a memorial of the many deliberations
and contentions which it cost the apostles after the departure of
Jesus, to convince themselves of the eligibility of Gentiles for a
participation in the kingdom of their Christ, and the reasons which at
last brought them to a decision. Now if Jesus had given so explicit a
command as that above quoted, what need was there of a vision to
encourage Peter to its fulfilment? or, supposing the vision to be a
legendary investiture of the natural deliberations of the disciples,
why did they go about in search of the reflection, that all men ought
to be baptized, because before God all men and all animals, as his
creatures, are clean, if they could have appealed to an express
injunction of Jesus? Here, then, is the alternative: if Jesus himself
gave this command, the disciples cannot have been led to the admission
of the Gentiles by the means narrated in Acts x., xi.; if, on the other
hand, that narrative is authentic, the alleged command of Jesus cannot
be historical. Our canon decides for the latter proposition. For that
the subsequent practice and pre-eminent distinction of the Christian
Church, its accessibility to all nations, and its indifference to
circumcision or uncircumcision, should have lain in the mind of its
founder, is the view best adapted to exalt and adorn Jesus; while that,
after his death, and through the gradual development of relations, the
church, which its Founder had designed for the Gentiles only in so far
as they became Jews, should break through these limits, is in the
simple, natural, and therefore the probable course of things.

§ 69.

RELATION OF THE MESSIANIC PLAN OF JESUS TO THE SAMARITANS. HIS
INTERVIEW WITH THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.

There is the same apparent contradiction in the position which Jesus
took, and prescribed to his disciples, towards the inhabitants of
Samaria. While in his instructions to his disciples (Matt. x. 5), he
forbids them to visit any city of the Samaritans, we read in John (iv.)
that Jesus himself in his journey through Samaria laboured as the
Messiah with great effect, and ultimately stayed two days in a
Samaritan town; and in the Acts (i. 8), that before his ascension he
charged the disciples to be his witnesses, not only in Jerusalem and in
all Judea, but also in Samaria. That Jesus did not entirely shun
Samaria, as that prohibition might appear to intimate, is evident from
Luke ix. 52 (comp. xvii. 11), where his disciples bespeak lodgings for
him in a Samaritan village, when he has determined to go to Jerusalem;
a circumstance which accords with the information of Josephus, that
those Galileans who journeyed to the feasts usually went through
Samaria. [817] That Jesus was not unfavourable to the Samaritans, nay,
that in many respects he acknowledged their superiority to the Jews, is
evident from his parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke x. 30 ff.); he
also bestows a marked notice on the case of a Samaritan, who, among ten
cleansed, was the only one that testified his gratitude (Luke xvii.
16); and, if we may venture on such a conclusion from John iv. 25, and
subsequent records, [818] the inhabitants of Samaria themselves had
some tincture of the messianic idea.

However natural it may appear that Jesus should avail himself of this
susceptible side of the Samaritans, by opportunely announcing to them
the messianic kingdom; the aspect which the four Evangelists bear to
each other on this subject must excite surprise. Matthew has no
occasion on which Jesus comes in contact with the Samaritans, or even
mentions them, except in the prohibition above quoted; Mark is more
neutral than Matthew, and has not even that prohibition; Luke has two
instances of contact, one of them unfavourable, the other favourable,
together with the parable in which Jesus presents a Samaritan as a
model, and his approving notice of the gratitude of one whom he had
healed; John, finally, has a narrative in which Jesus appears in a very
intimate and highly favourable relation to the Samaritans. Are all
these various accounts well founded? If so, how could Jesus at one time
prohibit his disciples from including the Samaritans in the messianic
plan, and at another time, himself receive them without hesitation?
Moreover, if the chronological order of the Evangelists deserve regard,
the ministry of Jesus in Samaria must have preceded the prohibition
contained in his instructions to his disciples on their first mission.
For the scene of that mission being Galilee, and there being no space
for its occurrence during the short stay which, according to the fourth
Evangelist, Jesus made in that province before the first Passover (ii.
1–13), it must be placed after that Passover; and, as the visit to
Samaria was made on his journey, after that visit also. How, then,
could Jesus, after having with the most desirable issue, personally
taught in Samaria, and presented himself as the Messiah, forbid his
disciples to carry thither their messianic tidings? On the other hand,
if the scenes narrated by John occurred after the command recorded by
Matthew, the disciples, instead of wondering that Jesus talked so
earnestly with a woman (John iv. 27), ought rather to have wondered
that he held any converse with a Samaritan. [819]

Since then of the two extreme narratives at least, in Matthew and John,
neither presupposes the other, we must either doubt the authenticity of
the exclusive command of Jesus, or of his connexion with the
inhabitants of Samaria.

In this conflict between the gospels, we have again the advantage of
appealing to the Book of Acts as an umpire. Before Peter, at the divine
instigation, had received the firstfruits of the Gentiles into the
Messiah’s kingdom, Philip the deacon, being driven from Jerusalem by
the persecution of which Stephen’s death was the commencement,
journeyed to the city of Samaria, where he preached Christ, and by
miracles of all kinds won the Samaritans to the faith, and to the
reception of baptism (Acts viii. 5 ff.). This narrative is a complete
contrast to that of the first admission of the Gentiles: while in the
one there was need of a vision, and a special intimation from the
Spirit, to bring Peter into communication with the heathens; in the
other, Philip, without any precedent, unhesitatingly baptizes the
Samaritans. And lest it should be said that the deacon was perhaps of a
more liberal spirit than the apostle, we have Peter himself coming
forthwith to Samaria in company with John,—an incident which forms
another point of opposition between the two narratives; for, while the
first admission of the Gentiles makes a highly unfavourable impression
on the mother church at Jerusalem, the report that Samaria had received
the word of God meets with so warm an approval there, that the two most
distinguished apostles are commissioned to confirm and consummate the
work begun by Philip. The tenor of this proceeding makes it not
improbable that there was a precedent for it in the conduct of Jesus,
or at least a sanction in his expressions.

The narrative in the fourth Gospel (iv.) would form a perfect precedent
in the conduct of Jesus, but we have yet to examine whether it bears
the stamp of historical credibility. We do not, with the author of the
Probabilia, stumble at the designation of the locality, and the opening
of the conversation between Jesus and the woman; [820] but from v. 16
inclusively, there are, as impartial expositors confess, [821] many
grave difficulties. The woman had entreated Jesus to give her of the
water which was for ever to extinguish thirst, and Jesus immediately
says, Go, call thy husband. Why so? It has been said that Jesus, well
knowing that the woman had no lawful husband, sought to shame her, and
bring her to repentance. [822] Lücke, disapproving the imputation of
dissimulation to Jesus, conjectures that, perceiving the woman’s
dulness, he hoped by summoning her husband, possibly her superior in
intelligence, to create an opportunity for a more beneficial
conversation. But if Jesus, as it presently appears, knew that the
woman had not at the time any proper husband, he could not in earnest
desire her to summon him; and if, as Lücke allows, he had that
knowledge in a supernatural manner, it could not be hidden from him,
who knew what was in man, that she would be little inclined to comply
with his injunction. If, however, he had a prescience that what he
required would not be done, the injunction was a feint, and had some
latent object. But that this object was the penitence of the woman
there is no indication in the text, for the ultimate effect on her is
not shame and penitence, but faith in the prophetic insight of Jesus
(v. 19). And this was doubtless what Jesus wished, for the narrative
proceeds as if he had attained his purpose with the woman, and the
issue corresponded to the design. The difficulty here lies, not so much
in what Lücke terms dissimulation,—since this comes under the category
of blameless temptation (πειράζειν), elsewhere occurring,—as in the
violence with which Jesus wrests an opportunity for the display of his
prophetic gifts.

By a transition equally abrupt, the woman urges the conversation to a
point at which the Messiahship of Jesus may become fully evident. As
soon as she has recognised Jesus to be a prophet, she hastens to
consult him on the controversy pending between the Jews and Samaritans,
as to the place appropriated to the true worship of God (v. 20). That
so vivid an interest in this national and religious question is not
consistent with the limited mental and circumstantial condition of the
woman, the majority of modern commentators virtually confess, by their
adoption of the opinion, that her drift in this remark was to turn away
the conversation from her own affairs. [823] If then the implied query
concerning the place for the true worship of God, had no serious
interest for the woman, but was prompted by a false shame calculated to
hinder confession and repentance, those expositors should remember what
they elsewhere repeat to satiety, [824] that in the Gospel of John the
answers of Jesus refer not so much to the ostensible meaning of
questions, as to the under current of feeling of which they are the
indications. In accordance with this method, Jesus should not have
answered the artificial question of the woman as if it had been one of
deep seriousness; he ought rather to have evaded it, and recurred to
the already detected stain on her conscience, which she was now seeking
to hide, in order if possible to bring her to a full conviction and
open avowal of her guilt. But the fact is that the object of the
Evangelist was to show that Jesus had been recognised, not merely as a
prophet, but as the Messiah, and he believed that to turn the
conversation to the question of the legitimate place for the worship of
God, the solution of which was expected from the Messiah, [825] would
best conduce to that end.

Jesus evinces (v. 17) an acquaintance with the past history and present
position of the woman. The rationalists have endeavoured to explain
this by the supposition, that while Jesus sat at the well, and the
woman was advancing from the city, some passer-by hinted to him that he
had better not engage in conversation with her, as she was on the watch
to obtain a sixth husband. [826] But not to insist on the improbability
that a passer-by should hold a colloquy with Jesus on the character of
an obscure woman, the friends as well as the enemies of the fourth
gospel now agree, that every natural explanation of that knowledge on
the part of Jesus, directly counteracts the design of the Evangelist.
[827] For, according to him, the disclosure which Jesus makes of his
privity to the woman’s intimate concerns, is the immediate cause, not
only of her own faith in him, but of that of many inhabitants of the
city (v. 39), and he obviously intends to imply that they were not too
precipitate in receiving him as a prophet, on that ground alone. Thus
in the view of the Evangelist, the knowledge in question was an
effluence of the higher nature of Jesus, and modern supranaturalists
adhere to this explanation, adducing in its support the power which
John attributes to him (ii. 24 f.), of discerning what is in man
without the aid of external testimony. [828] But this does not meet the
case; for Jesus here not only knows what is in the woman,—her present
equivocal state of mind towards him who is not her husband,—he has
cognizance also of the extrinsic fact that she has had five husbands,
of whom we cannot suppose that each had left a distinct image in her
mind traceable by the observation of Jesus. That by means of the
penetrative acumen with which he scrutinized the hearts of those with
whom he had to do, Jesus should also have a prophetic insight into his
own messianic destiny, and the fortunes of his kingdom, may under a
certain view of his person appear probable, and in any case must be
deemed in the highest degree dignified; but that he should be
acquainted, even to the most trivial details, with the adventitious
history of obscure individuals, is an idea that degrades him in
proportion to the exaltation of his prophetic dignity. Such empirical
knowingness (not omniscience) would moreover annihilate the human
consciousness which the orthodox view supposes to co-exist in Jesus.
[829] But the possession of this knowledge, however it may clash with
our conception of dignity and wisdom, closely corresponds to the Jewish
notion of a prophet, more especially of the Messiah; in the Old
Testament, Daniel recites a dream of Nebuchadnezzar, which that monarch
himself had forgotten (Dan. ii.); in the Clementine Homilies, the true
prophet is ὁ πάντοτε πάντα εἰδώς· τὰ μὲν γεγονότα ὡς ἐγένετο, τὰ δὲ
γινόμενα ὡς γίνεται, τὰ δέ ἐσόμενα ὡς ἔσται; [830] and the rabbins
number such a knowledge of personal secrets among the signs of the
Messiah, and observe that from the want of it, Bar-Cocheba was detected
to be a pseudo-Messiah. [831]

Farther on (v. 23) Jesus reveals to the woman what Hase terms the
sublimest principle of his religion, namely, that the service of God
consists in a life of piety; tells her that all ceremonial worship is
about to be abolished; and that he is the personage who will effect
this momentous change, that is, the Messiah. We have already shown it
to be improbable that Jesus, who did not give his disciples to
understand that he was the Messiah until a comparatively late period,
should make an early and distinct disclosure on the subject to a
Samaritan woman. In what respect was she worthy of a communication more
explicit than ever fell to the lot of the disciples? What could induce
Jesus to send roaming into the futurity of religious history, the
contemplation of a woman, whom he should rather have induced to examine
herself, and to ponder on the corruptions of her own heart? Nothing but
the wish to elicit from her, at any cost, and without regard to her
moral benefit, an acknowledgment, not only of his prophetic gifts, but
of his Messiahship; to which end it was necessary to give the
conversation the above direction. But so contracted a design can never
be imputed to Jesus, who, on other occasions, exemplifies a more
suitable mode of dealing with mankind: it is the design of the
glorifying legend, or of an idealizing biographer.

Meanwhile, continues the narrative (v. 27), the disciples of Jesus
returned from the city with provisions, and marvelled that he talked
with a woman, contrary to rabbinical rule. [832] While the woman,
excited by the last disclosure of Jesus, hastens homeward to invite her
fellow-citizens to come and behold the Messiah-like stranger, the
disciples entreat him to partake of the food they have procured; he
answers, I have meat to eat that ye know not of (v. 32). They,
misunderstanding his words, imagine that some person has supplied him
with food in their absence: one of those carnal interpretations of
expressions intended spiritually by Jesus, which are of perpetual
recurrence in the fourth gospel, and are therefore suspicious. Then
follows a discourse on sowing and reaping (v. 35 ff.), which, compared
with v. 37, can only mean that what Jesus has sown, the disciples will
reap. [833] We admit that this is susceptible of the general
interpretation, that the germ of the kingdom of God, which blossomed
and bore fruit under the cultivation of the apostles, was first
deposited in the world by Jesus: but it cannot be denied that a special
application is also intended. Jesus foresees that the woman, who is
hastening towards the city, will procure him an opportunity of sowing
the seed of the gospel in Samaria, and he promises the disciples that
they at a future time shall reap the fruits of his labours. Who is not
here reminded of the propagation of Christianity in Samaria by Philip
and the apostles, as narrated in the Acts? [834] That, even abstracting
all supernaturalism from our idea of the person of Jesus, he might have
foreseen this progress of his cause in Samaria from his knowledge of
its inhabitants, is not to be denied; but as the above figurative
prediction forms part of a whole more than improbable in an historical
point of view, it is equally liable to suspicion, especially as it is
easy to show how it might originate without any foundation in fact.
According to the prevalent tradition of the early church, as recorded
in the synoptical gospels, Jesus laboured personally in Galilee, Judea,
and Perea only,—not in Samaria, which, however, as we learn from the
Acts, embraced the gospel at no remote period from his death. How
natural the tendency to perfect the agency of Jesus, by representing
him to have sown the heavenly seed in Samaria, thus extending his
ministry through all parts of Palestine; to limit the glory of the
apostles and other teachers to that of being the mere reapers of the
harvest in Samaria; and to put this distinction, on a suitable
occasion, into the mouth of Jesus!

The result, then, of our examination of John’s Samaritan narrative is,
that we cannot receive it as a real history: and the impression which
it leaves as a whole tends to the same conclusion. Since Heracleon and
Origen, [835] the more ancient commentators have seldom refrained from
giving the interview of Jesus with the woman of Samaria an allegorical
interpretation, on the ground that the entire scene has a legendary and
poetic colouring. Jesus is seated at a well,—that idyllic locality with
which the old Hebrew legend associates so many critical incidents; at
the identical well, moreover, which a tradition, founded on Gen.
xxxiii. 19, xlviii. 22; Josh. xxiv. 32, reported to have been given by
Jacob to his son Joseph; hence the spot, in addition to its idyllic
interest, has the more decided consecration of national and patriarchal
recollections, and is all the more worthy of being trodden by the
Messiah. At the well Jesus meets with a woman who has come out to draw
water, just as, in the Old Testament, the expectant Eliezer encounters
Rebekah with her pitcher, and as Jacob meets with Rachel, the destined
ancestress of Israel, or Moses with his future wife. Jesus begs of the
woman to let him drink; so does Eliezer of Rebekah; after Jesus has
made himself known to the woman as the Messiah, she runs back to the
city, and fetches her neighbours: so Rebekah, after Eliezer has
announced himself as Abraham’s steward, and Rachel, after she has
discovered that Jacob is her kinsman, hasten homeward to call their
friends to welcome the honoured guest. It is, certainly, not one
blameless as those early mothers in Israel, whom Jesus here encounters;
for this woman came forth as the representative of an impure people,
who had been faithless to their marriage bond with Jehovah, and were
then living in the practice of a false worship; while her good-will,
her deficient moral strength, and her obtuseness in spiritual things,
perfectly typify the actual state of the Samaritans. Thus, the
interview of Jesus with the woman of Samaria is only a poetical
representation of his ministry among the Samaritans narrated in the
sequel; and this is itself a legendary prelude to the propagation of
the gospel in Samaria after the death of Jesus.

Renouncing the event in question as unhistorical, we know nothing of
any connexion formed by Jesus with the Samaritans, and there remain as
indications of his views regarding them, only his favourable notice of
an individual from among them (Luke xvii. 16); his unpropitious
reception in one of their villages (Luke ix. 53); the prohibition with
respect to them, addressed to his disciples (Matt. x. 5); the
eulogistic parable (Luke x. 30 ff.); and his valedictory command, that
the gospel should be preached in Samaria (Acts i. 8). This express
command being subsequent to the resurrection of Jesus, its reality must
remain problematical for us until we have examined the evidence for
that capital fact; and it is to be questioned whether without it, and
notwithstanding the alleged prohibition, the unhesitating conduct of
the apostles, Acts viii., can be explained. Are we then to suppose on
the part of the apostolic history, a cancelling of hesitations and
deliberations that really occurred; or on the part of Matthew, an
unwarranted ascription of national bigotry to Jesus; or, finally, on
the part of Jesus, a progressive enlargement of view?

CHAPTER V.

THE DISCIPLES OF JESUS.

§ 70.

CALLING OF THE FIRST COMPANIONS OF JESUS. DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE FIRST
TWO EVANGELISTS AND THE FOURTH.

The first two Evangelists agree in stating that Jesus, when walking by
the sea of Galilee, called, first, the two brothers Andrew and Peter,
and immediately after, James and John, to forsake their fishing nets,
and to follow him (Matt. iv. 18–22; Mark i. 16–20). The fourth
Evangelist also narrates (i. 35–51), how the first disciples came to
attach themselves to Jesus, and among them we find Peter and Andrew,
and, in all probability, John, for it is generally agreed that the
nameless companion of Andrew was that ultimately favourite apostle.
James is absent from this account, and instead of his vocation, we have
that of Philip and Nathanael. But even when the persons are the same,
all the particulars of their meeting with Jesus are variously detailed.
In the two synoptical gospels, the scene is the coast of the Galilean
sea: in the fourth, Andrew, Peter, and their anonymous friend, unite
themselves to Jesus in the vicinity of the Jordan; Philip and
Nathanael, on the way from thence into Galilee. In the former, again,
Jesus in two instances calls a pair of brothers; in the latter, it is
first Andrew and his companion, then Peter, and anon Philip and
Nathanael, who meet with Jesus. But the most important difference is
this: while, in Matthew and Mark, the brethren are called from their
fishing immediately by Jesus; in John, nothing more is said of the
respective situations of those who were summoned, than that they come,
and are found, and Jesus himself calls only Philip; Andrew and his
nameless companion being directed to him by the Baptist, Peter brought
by Andrew, and Nathanael by Philip.

Thus the two narratives appear to refer to separate events; and if it
be asked which of those events was prior to the other, we must reply
that John seems to assign the earlier date to his incidents, for he
represents them as taking place before the return of Jesus from the
scene of his baptism into Galilee; while the synoptists place theirs
after that journey, especially if, according to a calculation often
adopted, we regard the return into Galilee, which they make so
important an epoch, as being that from the first Passover, not from the
baptism. It is evident, too, from the intrinsic nature of the
occurrences reported by the fourth Evangelist, that they could not have
succeeded those in Matthew and Mark. For if, as these writers tells us,
Andrew and John had already followed Jesus, they could not again be in
the train of the Baptist, as we see them in the fourth gospel, nor
would it have been necessary for that teacher to have directed their
attention to Jesus; neither if Peter had already been called by Jesus
himself to become a fisher of men, was there any need for his brother
Andrew to bring him to his already elected master. Nevertheless,
expositors with one voice declare that the two narratives are equally
adapted to precede, or follow, each other. The fourth gospel, say they,
[836] recounts merely the first introduction of these men to Jesus;
they did not forthwith become his constant followers, but were first
installed by Jesus in their proper discipleship on the occasion which
the synoptists have preserved.

Let us test the justness of their view. In the synoptical narrative
Jesus says to his future disciples, Come after me, δεῦτε ὀπίσω μου, and
the result is that they follow him (ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ). If we understand
from this that the disciples thenceforth constantly followed Jesus, how
can we give a different interpretation to the similar expression in the
fourth gospel, Follow me, ἀκολούθει μοι? It is therefore a laudable
consistency in Paulus, to see, in both instances, merely an invitation
to a temporary companionship during a walk in the immediate
neighbourhood. [837] But this interpretation is incompatible with the
synoptical history. How could Peter, at a later period, say so
emphatically to Jesus, We have left all, and followed thee: what shall
we have therefore?—how could Jesus promise to him and to every one who
had forsaken houses, etc., a hundredfold recompense (Matt. xix. 27
ff.), if this forsaking and following had been so transient and
interrupted? From these considerations alone it is probable that the
ἀκολούθει μοι in John also denotes the commencement of a permanent
connexion; but there are besides the plainest indications that this is
the case in the context to the narrative. Precisely as in the
synoptical gospels, Jesus appears alone before the scene of the
vocation, but after this on every fit occasion the attendance of his
disciples is mentioned: so in the fourth gospel, from the time of the
occurrence in question, the previously solitary Jesus appears in the
company of his disciples (ii. 2, xii. 17, iii. 22, iv. 8, 27, etc.). To
say that these disciples, acquired in Peræa, again dispersed themselves
after the return of Jesus into Galilee, [838] is to do violence to the
gospels out of harmonistic zeal. But even supposing such a dispersion,
they could not, in the short time which it is possible to allow for
their separation from Jesus, have become so completely strangers to
him, that he would have been obliged to re-open an acquaintance with
them after the manner narrated by the synoptical writers. Still less
probable is it that Jesus, after having distinguished Simon in the most
individual manner by the surname Cephas on their first interview, would
on a later occasion address to him the summons to be a fisher of men—a
destination which was common to all the disciples.

The rationalistic commentators perceive a special advantage in their
position of the two narratives. It accounts, say they, for what must
otherwise be in the highest degree surprising, namely, that Jesus
merely in passing, and at the first glance, should choose four
fishermen for his disciples, and that among them he should have
alighted on the two most distinguished apostles; that, moreover, these
four men, actively employed in their business, should leave it on the
instant of their receiving an enigmatical summons from a man with whom
they had no intimate acquaintance, and devote themselves to him as his
followers. Now on comparing the fourth gospel, we see that Jesus had
learned to know these men long before, and that they, too, had had
demonstration of his excellence, whence it is easy to understand the
felicity of his choice, and their readiness to follow him. But this
apparent advantage is the condemning circumstance in the above
position: for nothing can more directly counteract the intention of the
first two Evangelists, than to suppose a previous acquaintance between
Jesus and the brethren whom he summons to follow him. In both Gospels,
great stress is laid on the fact that they immediately εὐθέως left
their nets, resolved to follow Jesus: the writers must therefore have
deemed this something extraordinary, which it certainly was not, if
these men had previously been in his train. In relation to Jesus also,
the point of the narrative lies in his having, with a prophetic spirit,
and at the first glance, selected the right individuals, not needing
that any should testify of man, for he knew what was in man, according
to John ii. 25, and thus presenting one of the characteristics which
the Jews expected in their Messiah.

If, then, each of these two diverse narratives professes to describe
the first acquaintance of Jesus with his most distinguished disciples,
it follows that one only can be correct, while the other is necessarily
erroneous. [839] It is our task to inquire which has the more intrinsic
proofs of veracity. With respect to the synoptical representation, we
share the difficulty which is felt by Paulus, in regarding it as a true
account of the first interview between the parties. A penetration into
the character of men at the first glance, such as is here supposed to
have been evinced by Jesus, transcends all that is naturally possible
to the most fortunate and practised knowledge of mankind. The nature of
man is only revealed by his words and actions; the gift of discerning
it without these means, belongs to the visionary, or to that species of
intuition for which the rabbinical designation of this messianic
attribute, odorando judicare, [840] is not at all too monstrous.
Scarcely less improbable is the unhesitating obedience of the
disciples, for Jesus had not yet acquired his Galilean fame; and to
account for this promptitude we must suppose that the voice and will of
Jesus had a coercive influence over minds, independently of preparation
and motives, [841] which would be to complete the incredibility of the
narrative by adding a magical trait to the visionary one already
exposed.

If these negative arguments are deemed strong enough to annul the
pretensions of the narrative to an historical character, the
alternative is to assign to it a mythical interpretation, if we can
show on positive grounds that it might have been constructed in a
traditional manner without historical foundation. As adequate
inducements to the formation of such a legend, we may point, not only
to the above cited Jewish notion of the Messiah as the searcher of
hearts, but to a specific type of this vocation of the apostles,
contained in the narrative (1 Kings xix. 19–21) of the mode in which
the prophet Elijah summoned Elisha to become his follower. Here Jesus
calls the brethren from their nets and their fishing; there the prophet
calls his future disciple from the oxen and the plough; in both cases
there is a transition from simple physical labour to the highest
spiritual office—a contrast which, as is exemplified in the Roman
history, tradition is apt either to cherish or to create. Further, the
fishermen, at the call of Jesus, forsake their nets and follow him; so
Elisha, when Elijah cast his mantle over him, left the oxen, and ran
after Elijah. This is one apparent divergency, which is a yet more
striking proof of the relation between the two narratives, than is
their general similarity. The prophet’s disciple entreated that before
he attached himself entirely to Elijah, he might be permitted to take
leave of his father and mother; and the prophet does not hesitate to
grant him this request, on the understood condition that Elisha should
return to him. Similar petitions are offered to Jesus (Luke ix. 59 ff.;
Matt. viii. 21 f.) by some whom he had called, or who had volunteered
to follow him; but Jesus does not accede to these requests: on the
contrary, he enjoins the one who wished previously to bury his father,
to enter on his discipleship without delay; and the other, who had
begged permission to bid farewell to his friends, he at once dismisses
as unfit for the kingdom of God. In strong contrast with the divided
spirit manifested by these feeble proselytes, it is said of the
apostles, that they, without asking any delay, immediately forsook
their occupation, and, in the case of James and John, their father.
Could anything betray more clearly than this one feature, that the
narrative is an embellished imitation of that in the Old Testament
intended to show that Jesus, in his character of Messiah, exacted a
more decided adhesion, accompanied with greater sacrifices, than
Elijah, in his character of Prophet merely, required or was authorized
to require? [842] The historical germ of the narrative may be this:
several of the most eminent disciples of Jesus, particularly Peter,
dwelling on the shores of the sea of Galilee, had been fishermen,
whence Jesus during their subsequent apostolic agency may have
sometimes styled them fishers of men. But without doubt, their relation
with Jesus was formed gradually, like other human relations, and is
only elevated into a marvel through the obliviousness of tradition.

By removing the synoptical narrative we make room for that of John; but
whether we are to receive it as historical, can only be decided by an
examination of its matter. At the very outset, it excites no favourable
prejudice, that John the Baptist is the one who directs the first two
disciples to Jesus; for if there be any truth in the representation
given in a former chapter of the relation between Jesus and the
Baptist, some disciples of the latter might, indeed, of their own
accord attach themselves to Jesus, formerly their fellow-disciple, but
nothing could be farther from the intention of the Baptist than to
resign his own adherents to Jesus. This particular seems indebted for
its existence to the apologetic interest of the fourth gospel, which
seeks to strengthen the cause of Jesus by the testimony of the Baptist.
Further, that Andrew, after one evening’s intercourse with Jesus,
should announce him to his brother with the words, We have found the
Messiah (i. 42); that Philip too, immediately after his call, should
speak of him in a similar manner to Nathanael (v. 46); is an
improbability which I know not how to put strongly enough. We gather
from the synoptical statement, which we have above decided to be
trustworthy, that some time was necessary for the disciples to
recognise Jesus as the Messiah, and openly confess their belief through
their spokesman Peter, whose tardy discernment Jesus would have been
incorrect in panegyrizing as a divine revelation, if it amounted to no
more than what was communicated to him by his brother Andrew at the
commencement of his discipleship. Equally unnatural is the manner in
which Jesus is said to have received Simon. He accosts him with the
words, Thou art Simon, the son of Jona,—a mode of salutation which
seems, as Bengel has well remarked, [843] to imply that Jesus had a
supernatural acquaintance with the name and origin of a man previously
unknown to him, analogous to his cognizance of the number of the
Samaritan woman’s husbands, and of Nathanael’s presence under the
fig-tree. Jesus then proceeds to bestow on Simon the significant
surname of Cephas or Peter. If we are not inclined to degrade the
speech of Jesus into buffoonery, by referring this appellation to the
bodily organization of the disciple, [844] we must suppose that Jesus
at the first glance, with the eye of him who knew hearts, penetrated
into the inmost nature of Simon, and discovered not only his general
fitness for the apostleship, but also the special, individual qualities
which rendered him comparable to a rock. According to Matthew, it was
not until after long intercourse with Jesus, and after he had given
many manifestations of his peculiar character, that this surname was
conferred on Simon, accompanied by an explanation of its meaning (xvi.
18): evidently a much more natural account of the matter than that of
the fourth Evangelist, who makes Jesus discern at the first glance the
future value of Simon to his cause, an odorando judicare which
transcends the synoptical representation in the same ratio as the
declaration, Thou shalt be called Cephas, presupposes a more intimate
knowledge, than the proposal, I will make you fishers of men. Even
after a more lengthened conversation with Peter, such as Lücke
supposes, [845] Jesus could not pronounce so decidedly on his
character, without being a searcher of hearts, or falling under the
imputation of forming too precipitate a judgment. It is indeed possible
that the Christian legend, attracted by the significance of the name,
may have represented Jesus as its author, while, in fact, Simon had
borne it from his birth.

The entire narrative concerning Nathanael is a tissue of
improbabilities. When Philip speaks to him of a Messiah from Nazareth,
he makes the celebrated answer, Can any good thing come out of Nazareth
(v. 47)? There is no historical datum for supposing that Nazareth, when
Jesus began his ministry, was the object of particular odium or
contempt, [846] and there is every probability that the adversaries of
Christianity were the first to cast an aspersion on the native city of
the Messiah whom they rejected. In the time of Jesus, Nazareth was only
depreciated by the Jews, as being a Galilean city—a stigma which it
bore in common with many others: but in this sense it could not be
despised by Nathanael, for he was himself a Galilean (xxi. 2). The only
probable explanation is that a derisive question, which, at the time of
the composition of the fourth gospel, the Christians had often to hear
from their opponents, was put into the mouth of a cotemporary of Jesus,
that by the manner in which he was divested of his doubt, others might
be induced to comply with the invitation, to come and see. As Nathanael
approaches Jesus, the latter pronounces this judgment on his character,
Behold an Israelite indeed in whom is no guile (v. 48)! Paulus is of
opinion that Jesus might have previously gathered some intimations
concerning Nathanael at Cana, where he had just been attending a
marriage of some relations. [847] But if Jesus had become acquainted
with Nathanael’s character in a natural way, he must, in answer to the
question Whence knowest thou me? either have reminded him of the
occasion on which they had had an earlier interview, or referred to the
favourable report of others. Instead of this he speaks of his knowledge
that Nathanael had been tarrying under a fig-tree: a knowledge which
from its result is evidently intended to appear supernatural. Now to
use information, obtained by ordinary means, so as to induce a belief
that it has been communicated supernaturally, is charlatanism, if
anything deserve the name. As, however, the narrator certainly did not
mean to impute such artifice to Jesus, it is undeniably his intention
to ascribe to him a supernatural knowledge of Nathanael’s character. As
little are the words, When thou wast under the fig-tree, I saw thee,
explained by the exclamation of Paulus, “How often one sees and
observes a man who is unconscious of one’s gaze!” Lücke and Tholuck are
also of opinion, that Jesus observed Nathanael under the fig-tree in a
natural manner; they add, however, the conjecture, that the latter was
engaged in some occupation, such as prayer or the study of the law,
which afforded Jesus a key to his character. But if Jesus meant to
imply, “How can I fail to be convinced of thy virtue, having watched
thee during thy earnest study of the law, and thy fervent prayer under
the fig-tree?” he would not have omitted the word προσευχόμενον
(praying), or ἀναγινώσκοντα (reading), for want of which we can extract
no other sense from his declaration than this: “Thou mayest be assured
of my power to penetrate into thy inmost soul, from the fact that I
beheld thee when thou wast in a situation from which all merely human
observers were excluded.” Here the whole stress is thrown not on any
peculiarity in the situation of the person seen, but on the fact that
Jesus saw him, whence it is necessarily inferred that he did so by no
ordinary, natural means. To imagine that Jesus possessed such a second
sight, is, we grant, not a little extravagant; but for that very
reason, it is the more accordant with the then existing notions of a
prophet, and of the Messiah. A like power of seeing and hearing beyond
the limits assigned to human organs, is attributed to Elisha in the Old
Testament. When (2 Kings vi. 8, ff.) the king of Syria makes war
against Israel, Elisha indicates to the king of Israel every position
of the enemy’s camp; and when the king of Syria expresses his suspicion
that he is betrayed by deserters, he is told that the Israelitish
prophet knows all the words that he, the king of Syria, speaks in his
private chamber. Thus also (xxi. 32), Elisha knows that Joram has sent
out messengers to murder him. How could it be endured that the Messiah
should fall short of the prophet in his powers of vision? This
particular, too, enables our Evangelist to form a climax, in which
Jesus ascends from the penetration of one immediately present (v. 42),
to that of one approaching for the first time (v. 48), and finally, to
the perception of one out of the reach of human eyesight. That Jesus
goes a step farther in the climax, and says, that this proof of his
messianic second sight is a trifle compared with what Nathanael has yet
to see,—that on him, the Son of man, the angels of God shall descend
from the opened heavens (v. 51),—in nowise shows, as Paulus thinks,
that there was nothing miraculous in that first proof, for there is a
gradation even in miracles.

Thus in the narrative of John we stumble at every step on difficulties,
in some instances greater than those with which the synoptical accounts
are encumbered: hence we learn as little from the one as the other,
concerning the manner in which the first disciples attached themselves
to Jesus. I cannot agree with the author of the Probabilia, [848] in
deriving the divergency of the fourth Evangelist from his predecessors,
from the wish to avoid mentioning the derided fishing trade of the most
distinguished apostles; since in chap. xxi., which Bretschneider allows
to be by the same hand as the rest of the gospel, he unhesitatingly
introduces the obnoxious employment. I rather surmise that the idea of
their having received their decisive apostolic call while actually
engaged with their fishing-nets, was not afloat in the tradition from
which the fourth Evangelist drew; and that this writer formed his
scenes, partly on the probably historical report that some disciples of
Jesus had belonged to the school of the Baptist, and partly from the
wish to represent in the most favourable light the relation between
Jesus and the Baptist, and the supernatural gifts of the former.

§ 71.

PETER’S DRAUGHT OF FISHES.

We have hitherto examined only two accounts of the vocation of Peter
and his companions; there is a third given by Luke (v. 1–11). I shall
not dilate on the minor points of difference [849] between his
narrative and that of the first two Evangelists; the essential
distinction is, that in Luke the disciples do not, as in Matthew and
Mark, unite themselves to Jesus on a simple invitation, but in
consequence of a plentiful draught of fishes, to which Jesus has
assisted Simon. If this feature be allowed to constitute Luke’s
narrative a separate one from that of his predecessors, we have next to
inquire into its intrinsic credibility, and then to ascertain its
relation to that of Matthew and Mark.

Jesus, oppressed by the throng of people on the shore of the Galilean
sea, enters into a ship, that he may address them with more ease at a
little distance from land. Having brought his discourse to a close, he
desires Simon, the owner of the boat, to launch out into the deep, and
let down his nets for a draught. Simon, although little encouraged by
the poor result of the last night’s fishing, declares himself willing,
and is rewarded by so extraordinary a draught, that Peter and his
partners, James and John (Andrew is not here mentioned), are struck
with astonishment, the former even with awe, before Jesus, as a
superior being. Jesus then says to Simon, Fear not; from henceforth
thou shalt catch men, and the issue is that the three fishermen forsake
all, and follow him.

The rationalistic commentators take pains to show that what is above
narrated might occur in a natural way. According to them, the
astonishing consequence of letting down the net was the result of an
accurate observation on the part of Jesus, assisted by a happy
fortuity. Paulus [850] supposes that Jesus at first wished to launch
out farther into the deep merely to escape from the crowd, and that it
was not until after sailing to some distance, that, descrying a place
where the fish were abundant, he desired Peter to let down the net. But
he has fallen into a twofold contradiction of the evangelical
narrative. In close connexion with the command to launch out into the
deep, Jesus adds, Let down your nets for a draught (ἐπανάγαγε εἰς τὸ
βάθος, καὶ χαλάσατε τὰ δίκτυα, κ.τ.λ.), as if this were one of his
objects in changing the locality; and if he spoke thus when at a little
distance only from the shore, his hope of a successful draught could
not be the effect of his having observed a place abundant in fish on
the main sea, which the vessel had not yet reached. Our rationalists
must therefore take refuge in the opinion of the author of the Natural
History of the Great Prophet of Nazareth, who says, Jesus conjectured
on general grounds, that under existing circumstances (indicative
probably of an approaching storm), fishing in the middle of the sea
would succeed better than it had done in the night. But, proceeding
from the natural point of view, how could Jesus be a better judge in
this matter than the men who had spent half their life on the sea in
the employment of fishing? Certainly if the fishermen observed nothing
which could give them hope of a plentiful draught, neither in a natural
manner could Jesus; and the agreement between his words and the result,
must, adhering to the natural point of view, be put down wholly to the
account of chance. But what senseless audacity, to promise at random a
success, which, judging from the occurrences of the past night, was
little likely to follow! It is said, however, that Jesus only desires
Peter to make another attempt, without giving any definite promise.
But, we must rejoin, in the emphatic injunction, which Peter’s remark
on the inauspicious aspect of circumstances for fishing does not induce
him to revoke, there is a latent promise, and the words, Let down your
nets, etc., in the present passage, can hardly have any other meaning
than that plainly expressed in the similar scene, John xxi. 6, Cast the
net on the right side of the ship, and ye shall find. When, moreover,
Peter retracts his objection in the words, Nevertheless at thy word I
will let down the net, ἐπὶ δὲ τῷ ῥήματί σου χαλάσω τὸ δίκτυον, though
ῥῆμα may be translated by command rather than by promise, in either
case he implies a hope that what Jesus enjoins will not be without
result. If Jesus had not intended to excite this hope, he must
immediately have put an end to it, if he would not expose himself to
disgrace in the event of failure; and on no account ought he to have
accepted the attitude and expressions of Peter as his due, if he had
only merited them by a piece of lucky advice given at a venture.

The drift of the narrative, then, obliges us to admit that the writer
intended to signalize a miracle. This miracle may be viewed either as
one of power, or of knowledge. If the former, we are to conceive that
Jesus by his supernatural power, caused the fish to congregate in that
part of the sea where he commanded Peter to cast in his net. Now that
Jesus should be able, by the immediate action of his will, to influence
men, in the nature of whose minds his spiritual energy might find a
fulcrum, may to a certain extent be conceived, without any wide
deviation from psychological laws; but that he could thus influence
irrational beings, and those not isolated animals immediately present
to him, but shoals of fish in the depths of the sea, it is impossible
to imagine out of the domain of magic. Olshausen compares this
operation of Jesus to that of the divine omnipotence in the annual
migrations of fish and birds; [851] but the comparison is worse than
lame,—it lacks all parallelism; for the latter is an effect of the
divine agency, linked in the closest manner with all the other
operations of God in external nature, with the change of seasons, etc.;
while the former, even presupposing Jesus to be actually God, would be
an isolated act, interrupting the chain of natural phenomena; a
distinction that removes any semblance of parallelism between the two
cases. Allowing the possibility of such a miracle (and from the
supranaturalistic point of view, nothing is in itself impossible), did
it subserve any apparent object, adequate to determine Jesus to so
extravagant a use of his miraculous powers? Was it so important that
Peter should be inspired by this incident with a superstitious fear,
not accordant with the spirit of the New Testament? Was this the only
preparation for engrafting the true faith? or did Jesus believe that it
was only by such signs that he could win disciples? How little faith
must he then have had in the force of mind and of truth! how much too
meanly must he have estimated Peter, who, at a later period at least
(John vi. 68), clung to his society, not on account of the miracles
which he beheld Jesus perform, but for the sake of the words of eternal
life which came from his lips!

Under the pressure of these difficulties, refuge may be sought in the
other supposition as the more facile one; namely, that Jesus, by means
of his superhuman knowledge, was merely aware that in a certain place
there was then to be found a multitude of fishes, and that he
communicated this information to Peter. If by this it be meant that
Jesus, through the possession of an omniscience such as is commonly
attributed to God, knew at all times, all the fish, in all seas, rivers
and lakes; there is an end to his human consciousness. If, however, it
be merely meant that when he crossed any water he became cognizant of
its various tribes of fish, with their relative position; even this
would be quite enough to encumber the space in his mind that was due to
more weighty thoughts. Lastly, if it be meant that he knew this, not
constantly and necessarily, but as often as he wished; it is impossible
to understand how, in a mind like that of Jesus, a desire for such
knowledge should arise,—how he, whose vocation had reference to the
depths of the human heart, should be tempted to occupy himself with the
fish-frequented depths of the waters.

But before we pronounce on this narrative of Luke, we must consider it
in relation to the cognate histories in the first two synoptical
gospels. The chronological relation of the respective events is the
first point. The supposition that the miraculous draught of fishes in
Luke was prior to the vocation narrated by the two other Evangelists,
is excluded by the consideration, that the firm attachment which that
miracle awakened in the disciples, would render a new call superfluous;
or by the still stronger objection, that if an invitation, accompanied
by a miracle, had not sufficed to ally the men to Jesus, he could
hardly flatter himself that a subsequent bare summons, unsupported by
any miracle, would have a better issue. The contrary chronological
position presents a better climax; but why a second invitation, if the
first had succeeded? For to suppose that the brethren who followed him
on the first summons, again left him until the second, is to cut the
knot, instead of untying it. Still more complicated is the difficulty,
when we take in addition the narrative of the fourth Evangelist: for
what shall we think of the connexion between Jesus and his disciples,
if it began in the manner described by John; if, after this, the
disciples having from some unknown cause separated from their master,
he again called them, as if nothing of the kind had before occurred, on
the shore of the Galilean sea; and if, this invitation also producing
no permanent adherence, he for the third time summoned them to follow
him, fortifying this final experiment by a miracle? The entire drift of
Luke’s narrative is such as to exclude, rather than to imply, any
earlier and more intimate relation between Jesus and his ultimate
disciples. For the indifferent mention of two ships on the shore, whose
owners were gone out of them to wash their nets, Simon being unnamed
until Jesus chooses to avail himself of his boat, seems, as
Schleiermacher has convincingly shown, [852] to convey the idea that
the two parties were entire strangers to each other, and that these
incidents were preparatory to a relation yet to be formed, not
indicative of one already existing: so that the healing of Peter’s
mother-in-law, previously recounted by Luke, either occurred, like many
other cures of Jesus, without producing any intimate connexion, or has
too early a date assigned to it by that Evangelist. The latter
conjecture is supported by the fact that Matthew places the miracle
later.

Thus, it fares with the narrative of Luke, when viewed in relation to
that of Matthew and Mark, as it did with that of John, when placed in
the same light; neither will bear the other to precede, or to follow
it,—in short, they exclude each other. [853] Which then is the correct
narrative? Schleiermacher prefers that of the Evangelist on whom he has
commented, because it is more particular [854]; and Sieffert [855] has
recently asserted with great emphasis, that no one has ever yet doubted
the superiority of Luke’s narrative, as a faithful picture of the
entire occurrence, the number of its special, dramatic, and
intrinsically authenticated details, advantageously distinguishing it
from the account in the first (and second) gospel, which by its
omission of the critical incident, the turning point in the narrative
(the draught of fishes), is characterized as the recital of one who was
not an eye-witness. I have already presented myself elsewhere [856] to
this critic, as one hardy enough to express the doubt of which he
denies the existence, and I here repeat the question: supposing one
only of the two narratives to have been modified by oral tradition,
which alternative is more in accordance with the nature of that means
of transmission,—that the tangible fact of a draught of fishes should
evaporate into a mere saying respecting fishers of men, or that this
figurative expression should be condensed into a literal history? The
answer to this question cannot be dubious; for when was it in the
nature of the legend to spiritualize? to change the real, such as the
story of a miracle, into the ideal, such as a mere verbal image? The
stage of human culture to which the legend belongs, and the mental
faculty in which it originates, demand that it should give a stable
body to fleeting thought, that it should counteract the ambiguity and
changeableness of words, by affixing them to the permanent and
universally understood symbol of action.

It is easy to show how, out of the expression preserved by the first
Evangelist, the miraculous story of the third might be formed. If
Jesus, in allusion to the former occupation of some of his apostles,
had called them fishers of men; if he had compared the kingdom of
heaven to a net cast into the sea, in which all kinds of fish were
taken (Matt. xiii. 47); it was but a following out of these ideas to
represent the apostles as those who, at the word of Jesus, cast out the
net, and gathered in the miraculous multitude of fishes. [857] If we
add to this, that the ancient legend was fond of occupying its
wonder-workers with affairs of fishing, as we see in the story related
of Pythagoras by Jamblichus and Porphyry; [858] it will no longer
appear improbable, that Peter’s miraculous draught of fishes is but the
expression about the fishers of men, transmuted into the history of a
miracle, and this view will at once set us free from all the
difficulties that attend the natural, as well as the supranatural
interpretation of the narrative.

A similar miraculous draught of fishes is recorded in the appendix to
the fourth gospel, as having occurred after the resurrection (ch.
xxi.). Here again Peter is fishing on the Galilean sea, in company with
the sons of Zebedee and some other disciples, and again he has been
toiling all night, and has taken nothing. [859] Early in the morning,
Jesus comes to the shore, and asks, without their recognising him, if
they have any meat? On their answering in the negative, he directs them
to cast the net on the right side of the ship, whereupon they have an
extremely rich draught, and are led by this sign to recognise Jesus.
That this history is distinct from the one given by Luke, is, from its
great similarity, scarcely conceivable; the same narrative has
doubtless been placed by tradition in different periods of the life of
Jesus. [860]

Let us now compare these three fishing histories,—the two narrated of
Jesus, and that narrated of Pythagoras,—and their mythical character
will be obvious. That which, in Luke, is indubitably intended as a
miracle of power, is, in the history of Jamblichus, a miracle of
knowledge; for Pythagoras merely tells in a supernatural manner the
number of fish already caught by natural means. The narrative of John
holds a middle place, for in it also the number of the fish (153) plays
a part; but instead of being predetermined by the worker of the
miracle, it is simply stated by the narrator. One legendary feature
common to all the three narratives, is the manner in which the
multitude and weight of the fishes are described; especially as this
sameness of manner accompanies a diversity in particulars. According to
Luke, the multitude is so great that the net is broken, one ship will
not hold them, and after they have been divided between the two
vessels, both threaten to sink. In the view of the tradition given in
the fourth gospel, it was not calculated to magnify the power of the
miraculous agent, that the net which he had so marvellously filled
should break; but as here also the aim is to exalt the miracle by
celebrating the number and weight of the fishes, they are said to be
μεγάλοι (great), and it is added that the men were not able to draw the
net for the multitude of fishes: instead, however, of lapsing out of
the miraculous into the common by the breaking of the net, a second
miracle is ingeniously made,—that for all there were so many, yet was
not the net broken. Jamblichus presents a further wonder (the only one
he has, besides the knowledge of Pythagoras as to the number of the
fish): namely, that while the fish were being counted, a process that
must have required a considerable time, not one of them died. If there
be a mind that, not perceiving in the narratives we have compared the
finger-marks of tradition, and hence the legendary character of these
evangelical anecdotes, still leans to the historical interpretation,
whether natural or supernatural; that mind must be alike ignorant of
the true character both of legend and of history, of the natural and
the supernatural.

§ 72.

CALLING OF MATTHEW. CONNEXION OF JESUS WITH THE PUBLICANS.

The first gospel (ix. 9 ff.) tells of a man named Matthew, to whom,
when sitting at the receipt of custom, Jesus said, Follow me. Instead
of Matthew, the second and third gospels have Levi, and Mark adds he
that was the son of Alphæus (Mark ii. 14 ff.; Luke v. 27 ff.). At the
call of Jesus, Luke says that he left all; Matthew merely states, that
he followed Jesus and prepared a meal, of which many publicans and
sinners partook, to the great scandal of the Pharisees.

From the difference of the names it has been conjectured that the
Evangelists refer to two different events; [861] but this difference of
the name is more than counterbalanced by the similarity of the
circumstances. In all the three cases the call of the publican is
preceded and followed by the same occurrences; the subject of the
narrative is in the same situation; Jesus addresses him in the same
words; and the issue is the same. [862] Hence the opinion is pretty
general, that the three synoptists have in this instance detailed only
one event. But did they also understand only one person under different
names, and was that person the Apostle Matthew?

This is commonly represented as conceivable on the supposition that
Levi was the proper name of the individual, and Matthew merely a
surname; [863] or that after he had attached himself to Jesus, he
exchanged the former for the latter. [864] To substantiate such an
opinion, there should be some indication that the Evangelists who name
the chosen publican Levi, intend under that designation no other than
the Matthew mentioned in their catalogues of the apostles (Mark iii.
18; Luke vi. 15; Acts i. 13). On the contrary, in these catalogues,
where many surnames and double names occur, not only do they omit the
name of Levi as the earlier or more proper appellation of Matthew, but
they leave him undistinguished by the epithet, ὁ τελώνης (the
publican), added by the first Evangelist in his catalogue (x. 3); thus
proving that they do not consider the Apostle Matthew to be identical
with the Levi summoned from the receipt of custom. [865]

If then the Evangelists describe the vocation of two different men in a
precisely similar way, it is improbable that there is accuracy on both
sides, since an event could hardly be repeated in its minute
particulars. One of the narratives, therefore, is in error; and the
burthen has been thrown on the first Evangelist, because he places the
calling of Matthew considerably after the Sermon on the Mount; while
according to Luke (vi. 13 ff.), all the twelve had been chosen before
that discourse was delivered. [866] But this would only prove, at the
most, that the first gospel gives a wrong position to the history; not
that it narrates that history incorrectly. It is therefore unjust to
impute special difficulties to the narrative of the first Evangelist:
neither are such to be found in that of Mark and Luke, unless it be
thought an inconsistency in the latter to attribute a forsaking of all,
καταλιπὼν ἅπαντα, to one whom he does not include among the constant
followers of Jesus. [867] The only question is, do they not labour
under a common difficulty, sufficient to stamp both accounts as
unhistorical?

The close analogy between this call and that of the two pairs of
brethren, must excite attention. They were summoned from their nets; he
from the custom-house; as in their case, so here, nothing further is
needed than a simple Follow me; and this call of the Messiah has so
irresistible a power over the mind of the called, that the publican,
like the fishermen, leaves all, and follows him. It is not to be
denied, that as Jesus had been for a considerable time exercising his
ministry in that country, Matthew must have long known him; and this is
the argument with which Fritzsche repels the accusation of Julian and
Porphyry, who maintain that Matthew here shows himself rash and
inconsiderate. But the longer Jesus had observed him, the more easily
might he have found opportunity for drawing him gradually and quietly
into his train, instead of hurrying him in so tumultuary a manner from
the midst of his business. Paulus indeed thinks that no call to
discipleship, no sudden forsaking of a previous occupation, is here
intended, but that Jesus having brought his teaching to a close, merely
signified to the friend who had given him an invitation to dinner, that
he was now ready to go home with him, and sit down to table. [868] But
the meal appears, especially in Luke, to be the consequence, and not
the cause, of the summons; moreover, a modest guest would say to the
host who had invited him, I will follow thee, ἀκολουθήσω σοι, not
Follow me, ἀκολούθηι μοι; and in fine, this interpretation renders the
whole anecdote so trivial, that it would have been better omitted.
[869] Hence the abruptness and impetuosity of the scene return upon us,
and we are compelled to pronounce that such is not the course of real
life, nor the procedure of a man who, like Jesus, respects the laws and
formalities of human society; it is the procedure of legend and poetry,
which love contrasts, and effective scenes, which aim to give a graphic
conception of a man’s exit from an old sphere of life, and his entrance
into a new one, by representing him as at once discarding the
implements of his former trade, leaving the scene of his daily
business, and straightway commencing a new life. The historical germ of
the story may be, that Jesus actually had publicans among his
disciples, and possibly that Matthew was one. These men had truly left
the custom-house to follow Jesus; but only in the figurative sense of
this concise expression, not in the literal one depicted by the legend.

It is not less astonishing that the publican should have a great feast
in readiness for Jesus immediately after his call. For that this feast
was not prepared until the following day, [870] is directly opposed to
the narratives, the two first especially. But it is entirely in the
tone of the legend to demonstrate the joy of the publican, and the
condescension of Jesus, and to create an occasion for the reproaches
cast on the latter on account of his intimacy with sinners, by
inventing a great feast, given to the publicans at the house of their
late associate immediately after his call.

Another circumstance connected with this narrative merits particular
attention. According to the common opinion concerning the author of the
first gospel, Matthew therein narrates his own call. We may consider it
granted that there are no positive indications of this in the
narrative; but it is not so clear that there are no negative
indications which render it impossible or improbable. That the
Evangelist does not here speak in the first person, nor when describing
events in which he had a share in the first person plural, like the
author of the Acts of the Apostles, proves nothing; for Josephus and
other historians not less classical, write of themselves in the third
person, and the we of the pseudo-Matthew in the Ebionite gospel has a
very suspicious sound. The use of the expression, ἄνθρωπον, Ματθαῖον
λεγόμενον, which the Manicheans made an objection, [871] as they did
the above-mentioned circumstance, is not without a precedent in the
writings of Xenophon, who in his Anabasis introduces himself as
Xenophon, a certain Athenian, Ξενοφῶν τις Ἀθηναῖος. [872] The Greek,
however, did not fall into this style from absorption in his subject,
nor from unaffected freedom from egotism,—causes which Olshausen
supposes in the Evangelist; but either from a wish not to pass for the
author, as an old tradition states, [873] or from considerations of
taste, neither of which motives will be attributed to Matthew. Whether
we are therefore to consider that expression as a sign that the author
of the first gospel was not Matthew, may be difficult to decide: [874]
but it is certain that this history of the publican’s call is
throughout less clearly narrated in that gospel than in the third. In
the former, we are at a loss to understand why it is abruptly said that
Jesus sat at meat in the house, if the Evangelist were himself the
hospitable publican, since it would then seem most natural for him to
let his joy on account of his call appear in the narrative, by telling,
as Luke does, that he immediately made a great feast in his house. To
say that he withheld this from modesty, is to invest a rude Galilean of
that age with the affectation belonging to the most refined
self-consciousness of modern days.

To this feast at the publican’s, of which many of the same obnoxious
class partook, the Evangelists annex the reproaches cast at the
disciples by the Pharisees and Scribes, because their master ate with
publicans and sinners. Jesus, being within hearing of the censure,
repelled it by the well-known text on the destination of the physician
for the sick, and the Son of Man for sinners (Matt. ix. 11 ff.
parall.). That Jesus should be frequently taunted by his pharisaical
enemies with his too great predilection for the despised class of
publicans (comp. Matt. xi. 19), accords fully with the nature of his
position, and is therefore historical, if anything be so: the answer,
too, which is here put into the mouth of Jesus, is from its pithy and
concise character well adapted for literal transmission. Further, it is
not improbable that the reproach in question may have been especially
called forth, by the circumstance that Jesus ate with publicans and
sinners, and went under their roofs. But that the cavils of his
opponents should have been accompaniments of the publican’s dinner, as
the evangelical account leads us to infer, especially that of Mark (v.
16), is not so easily conceivable. [875] For as the feast was in the
house (ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ), and as the disciples also partook of it, how could
the Pharisees utter their reproaches to them, while the meal was going
forward, without defiling themselves by becoming the guests of a man
that was a sinner,—the very act which they reprehended in Jesus? (Luke
xix. 7). It will hardly be supposed that they waited outside until the
feast was ended. It is difficult for Schleiermacher to maintain, even
on the representation of Luke taken singly, that the evangelical
narrative only implies, that the publican’s feast was the cause of the
Pharisees’ censure, and not that they were contemporary. [876] Their
immediate connexion might easily originate in a legendary manner; in
fact, one scarcely knows how tradition, in its process of transmuting
the abstract into the concrete, could represent the general idea that
the Pharisees had taken offence at the friendly intercourse of Jesus
with the publicans, otherwise than thus: Jesus once feasted in a
publican’s house, in company with many publicans; the Pharisees saw
this, went to the disciples and expressed their censure, which Jesus
also heard, and parried by a laconic answer.

After the Pharisees, Matthew makes the disciples of John approach Jesus
with the question, why his disciples did not fast, as they did (v. 14
f.); in Luke (v. 33 ff.) it is still the Pharisees who vaunt their own
fasts and those of John’s disciples, as contrasted with the eating and
drinking of the disciples of Jesus; Mark’s account is not clear (v.
18). According to Schleiermacher, every unprejudiced person must
perceive in the statement of Matthew compared with that of Luke, the
confusing emendations of a second editor, who could not explain to
himself how the Pharisees came to appeal to the disciples of John;
whereas, thinks Schleiermacher, the question would have been puerile in
the mouth of the latter; but it is easy to imagine that the Pharisees
might avail themselves of an external resemblance to the disciples of
John when opposing Jesus, who had himself received baptism of that
teacher. It is certainly surprising that after the Pharisees, who were
offended because Jesus ate with publicans, some disciples of John
should step forth as if they had been cited for the purpose, to censure
generally the unrestricted eating and drinking of Jesus and his
disciples. The probable explanation is, that evangelical tradition
associated the two circumstances from their intrinsic similarity, and
that the first Evangelist erroneously gave them the additional
connexion of time and place. But the manner in which the third
Evangelist fuses the two particulars, appears a yet more artificial
combination, and is certainly not historical, because the reply of
Jesus could only be directed to John’s disciples, or to friendly
inquirers: to Pharisees, he would have given another and a more severe
answer. [877]

Another narrative, which is peculiar to Luke (xix. 1–10), treats of the
same relation as that concerning Matthew or Levi. When Jesus, on his
last journey to the feast, passes through Jericho, a chief among the
publicans, ἀρχιτελώνης named Zacchæus, that he might, notwithstanding
his short stature, get a sight of Jesus among the crowd, climbed a
tree, where Jesus observed him, and immediately held him worthy to
entertain the Messiah for the night. Here, again, the favour shown to a
publican excites the discontent of the more rigid spectators; and when
Zacchæus has made vows of atonement and beneficence, Jesus again
justifies himself, on the ground that his office had reference to
sinners. The whole scene is very dramatic, and this might be deemed by
some an argument for its historical character; but there are certain
internal obstacles to its reception. We are not led to infer that Jesus
previously knew Zacchæus, or that some one pointed him out to Jesus by
name; [878] but, as Olshausen truly says, the knowledge of Zacchæus
that Jesus here suddenly evinced, is to be referred to his power of
discerning what was in men without the aid of testimony. We have before
decided that this power is a legendary attribute; hence the above
particular, at least, cannot be historical, and the narrative is
possibly a variation on the same theme as that treated of in connexion
with the account of Matthew’s call, namely, the friendly relation of
Jesus to the publicans.

§ 73.

THE TWELVE APOSTLES.

The men whose vocation we have been considering, namely, the sons of
Jonas and Zebedee, with Philip and Matthew (Nathanael alone being
excepted) form the half of that narrow circle of disciples which
appears throughout the New Testament under the name of the twelve, οἱ
δώδεκα, the twelve disciples or apostles, οἱ δώδεκα μαθήται or
ἀπόστολοι. The fundamental idea of the New Testament writers concerning
the twelve, is that Jesus himself chose them (Mark iii. 13 f.; Luke vi.
13; John vi. 70, xv. 16). Matthew does not give us the history of the
choice of all the twelve, but he tacitly presupposes it by introducing
them as a college already instituted (x. 1). Luke, on the contrary,
narrates how, after a night spent on the mountain in vigils and prayer,
Jesus selected twelve from the more extensive circle of his adherents,
and then descended with them to the plain, to deliver what is called
the Sermon on the Mount (vi. 12). Mark also tells us in the same
connexion, that Jesus when on a mountain made a voluntary choice of
twelve from the mass of his disciples (iii. 13). According to Luke,
Jesus chose the twelve immediately before he delivered the Sermon on
the Mount, and apparently with reference to it; but there is no
discoverable motive which can explain this mode of associating the two
events, for the discourse was not specially addressed to the apostles,
[879] neither had they any office to execute during its delivery.
Mark’s representation, with the exception of the vague tradition from
which he sets out, that Jesus chose the twelve, seems to have been
wrought out of his own imagination, and furnishes no distinct notion of
the occasion and manner of the choice. [880] Matthew has adopted the
best method in merely presupposing, without describing, the particular
vocation of the apostles; and John pursues the same plan, beginning
(vi. 67) to speak of the twelve, without any previous notice of their
appointment.

Strictly speaking, therefore, it is merely presupposed in the gospels,
that Jesus himself fixed the number of the apostles. Is this
presupposition correct? There certainly is little doubt that this
number was fixed during the lifetime of Jesus; for not only does the
author of the Acts represent the twelve as so compact a body
immediately after the ascension of their master, that they think it
incumbent on them to fill up the breach made by the apostasy of Judas
by the election of a new member (i. 15 ff.); but the Apostle Paul also
notices an appearance of the risen Jesus, specially to the twelve (1
Cor. xv. 5). Schleiermacher, however, doubts whether Jesus himself
chose the twelve, and he thinks it more probable that the peculiar
relation ultimately borne to him by twelve from amongst his disciples,
gradually and spontaneously formed itself. [881] We have, indeed, no
warrant for supposing that the appointment of the twelve was a single
solemn act; on the contrary, the gospels explicitly narrate, that six
of them were called singly, or by pairs, and on separate occasions; but
it is still a question whether the number twelve was not determined by
Jesus, and whether he did not willingly abide by it as an expedient for
checking the multiplication of his familiar companions. The number is
the less likely to have been fortuitous, the more significant it is,
and the more evident the inducements to its choice by Jesus. He
himself, in promising the disciples (Matt. xix. 28) that they shall sit
on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel, gives their
number a relation to that of the tribes of his people; and it was the
opinion of the highest Christian antiquity that this relation
determined his choice. [882] If he and his disciples were primarily
sent to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (Matt. x. 6, xv. 24), it
might seem appropriate that the number of the shepherds should
correspond to that of the shepherdless tribes (Matt. ix. 36).

The destination of the twelve is only generally intimated in John (xv.
16); in Mark, on the contrary, it is particularly, and without doubt
accurately, stated. He ordained twelve, it is here said, that they
should be with him, that is, that he might not be without
companionship, aid, and attendance on his journeys; and accordingly we
find them helpful to him in procuring lodgings (Luke ix. 32; Matt.
xxvi. 17 f.), food (John iv. 8), and other travelling requisites (Matt.
xxi. 1 ff.); but above all they were in his society to become scribes
well instructed unto the kingdom of heaven (Matt. xiii. 52). To this
end they had the opportunity of being present at most of the discourses
of Jesus, and even of obtaining private elucidations of their meaning
(Matt. xiii. 10 ff., 36 ff.); of purifying their minds by his severe
but friendly discipline (Matt. viii. 26, xvi. 23, xviii. 1 ff. 21 ff.;
Luke ix. 50, 55 f.; John xiii. 12 ff. etc.), and of elevating their
souls by the contemplation of his example (John xiv. 19). Another
motive of Jesus in choosing the twelve, was, according to Mark, that he
might send them forth to preach, that is, to preach the kingdom of
heaven during his life, according to the immediate meaning of Mark; but
the promulgation of his cause after his death, must be supposed as an
additional object on the part of Jesus. (Mark proceeds to enumerate the
powers of healing and of casting out devils; but on these points we
cannot dilate until we reach a future stage of our inquiry.)

It was this latter destination that won for them the distinguished name
of apostles, ἀπόστολοι (Matt. x. 2; Mark vi. 30; Luke vii. 13, etc.).
It has been doubted whether Jesus himself conferred this name on the
twelve, according to Luke vi. 13, and it has been suggested that it was
not given them until later, ex eventu. [883] But that Jesus should have
called them his envoys cannot be improbable, if he really sent them on
a journey to announce the approaching kingdom of the Messiah. We grant
that it is possible to regard this journey as an event transposed from
the period after the death of Jesus to his lifetime, in order that a
sort of rehearsal of the subsequent mission of the apostles might pass
under the eye of Jesus; but as it is not improbable that Jesus, perhaps
even before he had a full conviction of his own Messiahship, sent out
messengers to announce the Messiah’s kingdom, we are not warranted to
urge such a doubt.

John knows nothing of this mission, recorded by the synoptists. On the
other hand, they are ignorant of a circumstance alleged by John,
namely, that the disciples baptized during the life of Jesus (iv. 2).
According to the synoptical Evangelists, it was not until after the
resurrection, that Jesus gave his disciples authority to baptize (Matt.
xxviii. 19, parall.). As, however, the rite of baptism was introduced
by John, and we have reason to believe that Jesus, for a time, made
that teacher his model, it is highly probable that he and his disciples
also practised baptism, and hence that the positive statement of the
fourth gospel is correct. But the negative statement that Jesus himself
baptised not (iv. 2), has the appearance of an after-thought, intended
to correct the import of the previous passages (iii. 22, iv. 1), and is
most probably to be accounted for by the tendency of the fourth gospel
to exalt Jesus above the Baptist, and by a corresponding dread of
making Jesus exercise the function of the mere forerunner. The question
whether Jesus did not baptize at least the apostles, afterwards
occasioned much demur in the church.

With the exception of the mission mentioned above, the gospels speak of
no important separation between Jesus and his twelve disciples, for
there is nothing certain to be gathered from the resumption of their
business after his death (John xxi. 2 ff.). No one could detect in our
gospels any indications of a repeated interruption to the intercourse
of Jesus with his disciples, but theologians, whose harmonistic zeal
wished to find room for a second and third vocation; or expositors,
who, in their unwearied application to details, cast about for a means
of subsistence for so many indigent men, and thought it necessary to
suppose that they were occasionally provided for by a return to their
secular labours. As to the subsistence of Jesus and his disciples, we
have sufficient sources for it in the hospitality of the East, which,
among the Jews, was especially available to the rabbins; in the
companionship of rich women who ministered unto him of their substance
(Luke viii. 2 f.); and finally in the γλωσσόκομον, mentioned, it is
true, only by the fourth Evangelist (xii. 6, xiii. 29), which was ample
enough to furnish assistance to the poor, as well as to supply the
wants of the society, and in which, it is probable, presents from
wealthy friends of Jesus were deposited. They who do not hold these
means adequate without the labour of the disciples, or who think, on
more general grounds, that the total renunciation of their secular
employment on the part of the twelve, is improbable, must not try to
force their opinion on the Evangelists, who by the stress which they
lay on the expression of the apostles, we have left all (Matt. xix. 27
ff.), plainly intimate the opposite view.

We gather, as to the rank of the twelve disciples of Jesus, that they
all belonged to the lower class: four, or perhaps more (John xxi. 2),
were fishermen, one a publican, and for the others, it is probable from
the degree of cultivation they evince, and the preference always
expressed by Jesus for the poor πτωχοὺς, and the little ones, νηπίους
(Matt. v. 3, xi. 5, 25), that they were of a similar grade.

§ 74.

THE TWELVE CONSIDERED INDIVIDUALLY. THE THREE OR FOUR MOST CONFIDENTIAL
DISCIPLES OF JESUS.

We have in the New Testament four catalogues of the apostles; one in
each of the synoptical gospels, and one in the Acts (Matt. x. 2–4; Mark
iii. 6–10; Luke vi. 14–16; Acts i. 13). Each of these four lists may be
divided into three quaternions; in each corresponding quaternion the
first member is the same; and in the last, the concluding member also,
if we except Acts i. 13, where he is absent: but the intermediate
members are differently arranged, and in the concluding quaternions
there is a difference of names or of persons.

At the head of the first quaternion in all the catalogues, and in
Matthew with the prefix πρῶτος (the first), stands Simon Peter, the son
of Jonas (Matt. xvi. 17); according to the fourth gospel, of Bethsaida
(i. 45); according to the synoptists, resident in Capernaum [884]
(Matt. viii. 14, parall.). We hear an echo of the old polemical
dispute, when Protestant expositors ascribe this position to mere
chance,—an assumption which is opposed by the fact that all four of the
catalogues agree in giving the precedence to Peter, though they differ
in other points of arrangement; or when those expositors allege, in
explanation, that Peter was first called, [885] which, according to the
fourth gospel, was not the case. That this invariable priority is
indicative of a certain pre-eminence of Peter among the twelve, is
evident from the part he plays elsewhere in the evangelical history.
Ardent by nature, he is always beforehand with the rest of the
apostles, whether in speech (Matt. xv. 15, xvi. 16, 22, xvii. 4, xviii.
21, xxvi. 33; John vi. 68), or in action (Matt. xiv. 28, xxvi. 58; John
xviii. 16); and if it is not seldom the case that the speech and action
are faulty, and that his prompt courage quickly evaporates, as his
denial shows, yet he is, according to the synoptical statement, the
first who expresses a decided conviction of the Messiahship of Jesus
(Matt. xvi. 16, parall.). It is true that of the eulogies and
prerogatives bestowed on him on that occasion, that which is implied in
his surname is the only one that remains peculiarly his; for the
authority to bind and to loose, that is, to forbid and to permit, [886]
in the newly-founded Messianic kingdom, is soon after extended to all
the apostles (xviii. 18). Yet more decidedly does this pre-eminence of
Peter among the original apostles appear in the Acts, and in the
Epistles of Paul.

Next to Peter, the catalogue of the first and third gospels places his
brother Andrew; that of the second gospel and the Acts, James, and
after him, John. The first and third Evangelists are evidently guided
by the propriety of uniting the couples of brethren; Mark and the
author of the Acts, by that of preferring the two apostles next in
distinction to Peter to the less conspicuous Andrew, whom they
accordingly put last in the quaternion. We have already considered the
manner in which these four apostles are signalized in the Christian
legend by a special history of their vocation. They appear together in
other passages of Mark; first (i. 29), where Jesus, in company with the
sons of Zebedee, enters the house of Simon and Andrew: as, however, the
other Evangelists only mention Peter on this occasion, Mark may have
added the other names inferentially, concluding that the four
fishermen, so recently called, would not be apart from Jesus, and that
Andrew had a share in his brother’s house, a thing in itself probable.
[887] Again, Mark xiii. 3, our four apostles concur in asking Jesus
privately (κατ’ ἰδίαν) concerning the time of the destruction of the
temple, and of his second advent. But the parallel passages in the
other gospels do not thus particularize any of the disciples. Matthew
says, The disciples came to him privately (xxiv. 3); hence it is
probable that Mark’s limitation is an erroneous one. Possibly the words
κατ’ ἰδίαν, being used in the document to which he referred to denote
the separation of the twelve from the multitude, appeared to him, from
association, an introductory form, of which there are other examples
(Matt. xvii. 1; Mark ix. 2), to a private conference of Jesus with
Peter, James and John, to whom he might add Andrew on account of the
fraternity. Luke, on the other hand, in his account of the miraculous
draught of fishes, and the vocation of the fishermen (v. 10), omits
Andrew, though he is included in the corresponding narratives, probably
because he does not elsewhere appear as one of the select apostles; for
except on the occasions already noticed, he is only mentioned by John
(vi. 9, xii. 22), and that in no very important connexion.

The two sons of Zebedee are the only disciples whose distinction rivals
that of Peter. Like him, they evince an ardent and somewhat rash zeal
(Luke ix. 54; once John is named alone, Mark ix. 38; Luke ix. 49); and
it was to this disposition, apparently, that they owed the surname Sons
of Thunder, ‏בני רנש‎ υἱοὶ βροντῆς (Mark iii. 17), [888] conferred on
them by Jesus. So high did they stand among the twelve, that either
they (Mark xi. 35 ff.), or their mother for them (Matt. xx. 20 ff.),
thought they might claim the first place in the Messiah’s kingdom. It
is worthy of notice that not only in the four catalogues, but elsewhere
when the two brothers are named, as in Matt. iv. 21, xvii. 1; Mark i.
19, 29, v. 37, ix. 2, x. 35, xiii. 3, xiv. 33; Luke v. 10, ix. 54; with
the exception of Luke viii. 51, ix. 28; James is always mentioned
first, and John is appended to him as his brother (ὁ ἀδελφὸς αὐτοῦ).
This is surprising; because, while we know nothing remarkable of James,
John is memorable as the favourite disciple of Jesus. Hence it is
supposed that this precedence cannot possibly denote a superiority of
James to John, and an explanation has been sought in his seniority.
[889] Nevertheless, it remains a doubt whether so constant a precedence
do not intimate a pre-eminence on the part of James; at least, if, in
the apprehension of the synoptists, John had been as decidedly
preferred as he is represented to have been in the fourth gospel, we
are inclined to think that they would have named him before his brother
James, even allowing him to be the younger. This leads us to a
difference between the first three Evangelists and the fourth which
requires a closer examination.

In the synoptical gospels, as we have observed, Peter, James, and John,
form the select circle of disciples whom Jesus admits to certain
scenes, which the rest of the twelve were not spiritually mature enough
to comprehend; as the transfiguration, the conflict in Gethsemane, and,
according to Mark (v. 37), the raising of the daughter of Jairus. [890]
After the death of Jesus, also, a James, Peter and John appear as the
pillars of the church (Gal. ii. 9); this James, however, is not the son
of Zebedee, who had been early put to death (Acts xii. 2), but James,
the brother of the Lord (Gal. i. 19), who even in the first apostolic
council appears to have possessed a predominant authority, and whom
many hold to be the second James of the apostolic catalogue given in
Acts i.. [891] It is observable from the beginning of the Acts, that
James the son of Zebedee is eclipsed by Peter and John. As, then, this
James the elder was not enough distinguished or even known in the
primitive church, for his early martyrdom to have drawn much lustre on
his name, tradition had no inducement, from subsequent events, to
reflect an unhistorical splendour on his relation to Jesus; there is
therefore no reason to doubt the statement as to the prominent position
held by James, in conjunction with Peter and John, among the twelve
apostles.

So much the more must it excite surprise to find, in the fourth gospel
the triumvirate almost converted into a monarchy: James, like another
Lepidus, is wholly cast out, while Peter and John are in the position
of Antony and Octavius, the latter having nearly stripped his rival of
all pretensions to an equal rank with himself, to say nothing of a
higher. James is not even named in the fourth gospel; only in the
appendix (xxi. 2) is there any mention of the sons of Zebedee; while
several narratives of the vocations of different apostles are given,
apparently including that of John himself, no James appears in them,
neither is there any speech of his, as of many other apostles,
throughout this gospel.

Quite differently does the fourth Evangelist treat Peter. He makes him
one of the first who enter the society of Jesus, and gives him a
prominent importance not less often than the synoptists; he does not
conceal that Jesus bestowed on him an honourable surname (i. 42); he
puts in his mouth (vi. 68 f.) a confession which seems but a new
version of the celebrated one in Matt. xvi. 16; according to him, Peter
once throws himself into the sea that he may more quickly reach Jesus
(xxi. 7); at the last supper, and in the garden of Gethsemane, he makes
Peter more active than even the synoptists represent him (xiii. 6 ff.,
xviii. 10 f.); he accords him the honour of following Jesus into the
high priest’s palace (xviii. 15), and of being one of the first to
visit the grave of Jesus after the resurrection (xx. 3 ff.); nay, he
even details a special conversation between the risen Jesus and Peter
(xxi. 15 ff.). But these advantages of Peter are in the fourth gospel
invalidated in a peculiar manner, and put into the shade, in favour of
John. The synoptists tell us that Peter and John were called to the
apostleship in the same way, and the former somewhat before the latter;
the fourth Evangelist prefers associating Andrew with the nameless
disciple who is taken for John, and makes Peter come to him through the
instrumentality of his brother. [892] He also admits the honourable
interpretation of the surname Peter, and the panegyric on Peter’s
confession; but this he does in common with Mark and Luke, while the
speeches and the action attributed in the fourth gospel to Peter during
the last supper and in the garden, are to be classed as only so many
mistakes. The more we approach the catastrophe, the more marked is the
subordination of Peter to John. At the last supper, indeed, Peter is
particularly anxious for the discovery of the traitor: he cannot,
however, apply immediately to Jesus (xiii. 23 ff.), but is obliged to
make John, who was leaning on Jesus’ bosom, his medium of
communication. While, according to the synoptists, Peter alone followed
Jesus into the palace of the high priest; according to the fourth
Evangelist, John accompanied him, and under such circumstances, that
without him Peter could not have entered,—John, as one known to the
high priest, having to obtain admission for him (xviii. 15 f.). In the
synoptical gospels, not one of the disciples is bold enough to venture
to the cross; but in the fourth, John is placed under it, and is there
established in a new relation to the mother of his dying master: a
relation of which we elsewhere find no trace (xix. 26 f.). On the
appearance of the risen Jesus at the Galilean sea (xxi.), Peter, as the
θερμότερος, casts himself into the sea; but it is not until after John,
as the διορατικώτερος (Euthymius), has recognized the Lord in the
person standing on the shore. In the ensuing conversation, Peter is
indeed honoured with the commission, Feed my sheep; but this honour is
overshadowed by the dubitative question, Lovest thou me? and while the
prospect of martyrdom is held up to him, John is promised the
distinction of tarrying till Jesus came again, an advantage which Peter
is warned not to envy. Lastly, while, according to Luke (xxiv. 12),
Peter, first among the apostles, and alone, comes to the vacant grave
of his risen master, the fourth gospel (xx. 3), gives him a companion
in John, who outruns Peter and arrives first at the grave. Peter goes
into the grave before John, it is true; but it is the latter in whose
honour it is recorded, that he saw and believed, almost in
contradiction to the statement of Luke, that Peter went home wondering
in himself at that which was come to pass. Thus in the fourth gospel,
John, both literally and figuratively, outruns Peter, for the entire
impression which the attentive reader must receive from the
representation there given of the relative position of Peter and John,
is that the writer wished a comparison to be drawn in favour of the
latter. [893]

But John is moreover especially distinguished in the gospel which bears
his name, by the constant epithet, the beloved disciple, the disciple
whom Jesus loved, ὁ μαθητὴς ὅν ἠγάπα, or ἐφίλει ὁ Ἰησοῦς (xiii. 23,
xix. 26, xx. 2, xxi. 7, 20). It is true that we have no absolute proof
from the contents of the fourth gospel, whether intrinsically or
comparatively considered, that by the above formula, or the more
indeterminate one, the other ὁ ἄλλος, or another disciple, ἄλλος
μαθητὴς (x. 15 f., xx. 3, 4, 8), which, as it appears from xx. 2 f., is
its equivalent, we are to understand the Apostle John. For neither is
the designation in question anywhere used interchangeably with the name
of the apostle, nor is there anything narrated in the fourth gospel of
the favourite disciple, which in the three first is ascribed to John.
Because in xxi. 2 the sons of Zebedee are named among the assistants,
it does not follow that the disciple mentioned in v. 7 as the one whom
Jesus loved must be John; James, or the one of the two other disciples
mentioned in v. 2, might be meant. Nevertheless, it is the immemorial
tradition of the church that the disciple whom Jesus loved was John,
nor are all reasons for such a belief extinct even to us; for in the
Greek circle from which the fourth gospel sprang, there could scarcely
be among the apostles whom it leaves unnamed, one so well known as to
be recognized under that description unless it were John, whose
residence at Ephesus is hardly to be rejected as a mere fable.

It may appear more doubtful whether the author intended by this title
to designate himself, and thus to announce himself as the Apostle John.
The conclusion of the twenty-first chapter, v. 24, does certainly make
the favourite disciple the testifier and writer of the preceding
history; but we may assume it as granted that this passage is an
addition by a strange hand. [894] When, however, in the genuine text of
the gospel (xix. 35), the writer says of the effect produced by the
piercing of the side of Jesus, he that saw bare record, ὁ ἑωρακὼς
μεμαρτύρηκε, no other than the favourite disciple can be intended,
because he alone among all the disciples (the only parties eligible as
witnesses in the case), is supposed to be present at the cross. The
probability that the author here speaks of himself is not at all
affected by his use of the third person; but the preterite annexed to
it may well excite a doubt whether an appeal be not here made to the
testimony of John, as one distinct from the writer. [895] This mode of
expression, however, may be explained also in accordance with the other
supposition, [896] which is supported by the circumstance that the
author in i. 14, 16, seems to announce himself as the eye-witness of
the history he narrates.

Was that author, then, really the Apostle John, as he apparently wishes
us to surmise? This is another question on which we can only pronounce
when we shall have completed our investigation. We will merely allude
to the difficulty of supposing that the Apostle John could give so
unhistorical a sketch of the Baptist as that in the fourth gospel. But
we ask, is it at all probable that the real John would so unbecomingly
neglect the well-founded claims of his brother James to a special
notice? and is not such an omission rather indicative of a late
Hellenistic author, who scarcely had heard the name of the brother so
early martyred? The designation, the disciple whom Jesus loved, which
in xxi. 20 has the prolix addition, who also leaned on his breast at
supper, and said, Lord which is he that betrayeth thee? is not to be
considered as an offence against modesty. [897] It is certainly far too
laboured and embellished for one who, without any ulterior view, wishes
to indicate himself, for such an one would, at least sometimes, have
simply employed his name: but a venerator of John, issuing perhaps from
one of his schools, might very naturally be induced to designate the
revered apostle, under whose name he wished to write, in this half
honourable, half mysterious manner. [898]

§ 75.

THE REST OF THE TWELVE, AND THE SEVENTY DISCIPLES.

The second quaternion in all the four catalogues begins with Philip.
The three first gospels know nothing more of him than his name. The
fourth alone gives his birth-place, Bethsaida, and narrates his
vocation (i. 44 f.); in this gospel he is more than once an
interlocutor, but his observations are founded on mistakes (vi. 7, xiv.
8); and he perhaps appears with most dignity, when the Ἕλληνες, who
wish to see Jesus, apply immediately to him (xii. 21).

The next in the evangelical lists is Bartholomew; a name which is
nowhere found out of the catalogues. In the synoptical gospels
Bartholomew is coupled with Philip; in the history of the vocations
given by the fourth Evangelist (i. 46), Nathanael appears in company
with the latter and (xxi. 2) is again presented in the society of the
apostles. Nathanael, however, finds no place among the twelve, unless
he be identical with one otherwise named by the synoptists. If so, it
is thought that Bartholomew is the most easily adapted to such an
alias, as the three first gospels couple him with Philip, just as the
fourth, which has no Bartholomew, does Nathanael; to which it may be
added that ‏בר תלמי‎ is a mere patronymic, which must have been
accompanied by a proper name, such as Nathanael. [899] But we have no
adequate ground for such an identification, since the juxtaposition of
Bartholomew and Philip is shown to be accidental, by our finding the
former (Acts i. 13), as well as the latter (John xxi. 2), linked with
different names; the absence of Bartholomew from the fourth gospel is
not peculiar to him among the twelve; finally, second names as surnames
were added to proper as well as to patronymic names, as Simon Peter,
Joseph Caiaphas, John Mark, and the like; so that any other apostle not
named by John might be equally well identified with Nathanael, and
hence the supposed relation between the two appellations is altogether
uncertain.

In the catalogue given in the Acts, Philip is followed, not by
Bartholomew, but by Thomas, who in the list of the first gospel comes
after Bartholomew, in that of the others, after Matthew. Thomas, in
Greek Δίδυμος, appears in the fourth gospel, on one occasion, in the
guise of mournful fidelity (xi. 16); on another, in the more noted one
of incredulity (xx. 24 ff.); and once again in the appendix (xxi. 2).
Matthew, the next in the series, is found nowhere else except in the
history of his vocation.

The third quaternion is uniformly opened by James the son of Alpheus,
of whom we have already spoken. After him comes in both Luke’s lists,
Simon, whom he calls Zelotes, or the zealot, but whom Matthew and Mark
(in whose catalogues he is placed one degree lower) distinguish as the
Cannanite ὁ κανανίτης (from ‏קָנָא‎, to be zealous). This surname seems
to mark him as a former adherent of the Jewish sect of zealots for
religion, [900] a party which, it is true, did not attain consistence
until the latest period of the Jewish state, but which was already in
the process of formation. In all the lists that retain the name of
Judas Iscariot, he occupies the last place, but of him we must not
speak until we enter on the history of the Passion. Luke, in his
filling up of the remaining places of this quaternion, differs from the
two other Evangelists, and perhaps these also differ from each other;
Luke has a second Judas, whom he styles the brother of James; Matthew,
Lebbeus; and Mark, Thaddeus. It is true that we now commonly read in
Matthew, Lebbeus, whose surname was Thaddeus; but the vacillation in
the early readings seems to betray these words to be a later addition
intended to reconcile the first two Evangelists; [901] an attempt which
others have made by pointing out a similarity of meaning between the
two names, though such a similarity does not exist. [902] But allowing
validity to one or other of these harmonizing efforts, there yet
remains a discrepancy between Matthew and Mark with their
Lebbeus-Thaddeus, and Luke with his Judas, the brother of James.
Schleiermacher justly disapproves the expedients, almost all of them
constrained and unnatural, which have been resorted to for the sake of
proving that here also, we have but one person under two different
names. He seeks to explain the divergency, by supposing, that during
the lifetime of Jesus, one of the two men died or left the circle of
the apostles, and the other took his place; so that one list gives the
earlier, the other the later member. [903] But it is scarcely possible
to admit that any one of our catalogues was drawn up during the life of
Jesus; and after that period, no writer would think of including a
member who had previously retired from the college of apostles; those
only would be enumerated who were ultimately attached to Jesus. It is
the most reasonable to allow that there is a discrepancy between the
lists, since it is easy to account for it by the probability that while
the number of the apostles, and the names of the most distinguished
among them, were well known, varying traditions supplied the place of
more positive data concerning the less conspicuous.

Luke makes us acquainted with a circle of disciples, intermediate to
the twelve and the mass of the partisans of Jesus. He tells us (x. 1
ff.) that besides the twelve, Jesus chose other seventy also, and sent
them two and two before him into all the districts which he intended to
visit on his last journey, that they might proclaim the approach of the
kingdom of heaven. As the other Evangelists have no allusion to this
event, the most recent critics have not hesitated to make their silence
on this head a reproach to them, particularly to the first Evangelist,
in his supposed character of apostle. [904] But the disfavour towards
Matthew on this score ought to be moderated by the consideration, that
neither in the other gospels, nor in the Acts, nor in any apostolic
epistle, is there any trace of the seventy disciples, who could
scarcely have passed thus unnoticed, had their mission been as fruitful
in consequences, as it is commonly supposed. It is said, however, that
the importance of this appointment lay in its significance, rather than
in its effects. As the number of the twelve apostles, by its relation
to that of the tribes of Israel, shadowed forth the destination of
Jesus for the Jewish people; so the seventy, or as some authorities
have it, the seventy-two disciples, were representatives of the seventy
or seventy-two peoples, with as many different tongues, which,
according to the Jewish and early Christian view, formed the sum of the
earth’s inhabitants, [905] and hence they denoted the universal
destination of Jesus and his kingdom. [906] Moreover, seventy was a
sacred number with the Jewish nation; Moses deputed seventy elders
(Num. xi. 16, 25); the Sanhedrim had seventy members; [907] the Old
Testament, seventy translators.

Had Jesus, then, under the pressing circumstances that mark his public
career, nothing more important to do than to cast about for significant
numbers, and to surround himself with inner and outer circles of
disciples, regulated by these mystic measures? or rather, is not this
constant preference for sacred numbers, this assiduous development of
an idea to which the number of the apostles furnished the suggestion,
wholly in the spirit of the primitive Christian legend? This, supposing
it imbued with Jewish prepossessions, would infer, that as Jesus had
respect to the twelve tribes in fixing the number of his apostles, he
would extend the parallel by appointing seventy subordinate disciples,
corresponding to the seventy elders; or, supposing the legend animated
by the more universal sentiments of Paul, it could not escape the
persuasion that to the symbol of the relation of his office to the
Israelitish people, Jesus would annex another, significative of its
destination for all the kindreds of the earth. However agreeable this
class of seventy disciples may have always been to the church, as a
series of niches for the reception of men who, without belonging to the
twelve, were yet of importance to her, as Mark, Luke and Matthew; we
are compelled to pronounce the decision of our most recent critic
precipitate, and to admit that the Gospel of Luke, by its acceptance of
such a narrative, destitute as it is of all historical confirmation,
and of any other apparent source than dogmatical interests, is placed
in disadvantageous comparison with that of Matthew. We gather, indeed,
from Acts i. 21 f. that Jesus had more than the twelve as his constant
companions; but that these formed a body of exactly seventy, or that
that number was selected from them, does not seem adequately warranted
[908].

CHAPTER VI.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS IN THE THREE FIRST GOSPELS. [909]

§ 76.

THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT.

In reviewing the public life of Jesus, we may separate from the events
those discourses which were not merely incidental, but which stand
independent and entire. This distinction, however, is not precise, for
many discourses, owing to the occurrences that suggested them, may be
classed as events; and many events, from the explanations annexed to
them, seem to range themselves with the discourses. The discourses of
Jesus given in the synoptical gospels, and those attributed to him in
the fourth, differ widely both in form and matter, having only a few
isolated sentences in common: they must, therefore, be subjected to a
separate examination. Again, there is a dissimilitude between the three
first Evangelists: Matthew affects long discourses, and collects into
one mass a number of sayings, which in Luke are distributed among
various places and occasions; each of these two Evangelists has also
some discourses peculiar to himself. In Mark, the element of discourses
exists in a very small proportion. Our purpose will, therefore, be best
answered, if we make Matthew’s comprehensive discourses our starting
point; ascertain all the corresponding ones in the other gospels;
inquire which amongst them has the best arrangement and representation
of these discourses; and, finally, endeavour to form a judgment as to
how far they really proceeded from the lips of Jesus.

The first long discourse in Matthew is that known as the Sermon on the
Mount (v.–vii.). The Evangelist, having recorded the return of Jesus
after his baptism into Galilee, and the calling of the fishermen,
informs us, that Jesus went through all Galilee, teaching and healing;
that great multitudes followed him from all parts of Palestine; and
that for their instruction he ascended a mountain, and delivered the
sermon in question (iv. 23 ff.). We seek in vain for its parallel in
Mark, but Luke (vi. 20–49) gives a discourse which has the same
introduction and conclusion, and presents in its whole tenor the most
striking similarity with that of Matthew; moreover, in both cases,
Jesus, at the termination of his discourse, goes to Capernaum, and
heals the centurion’s servant. It is true that Luke gives a later
insertion to the discourse, for previous to it he narrates many
journeyings and cures of Jesus, which Matthew places after it; and
while the latter represents Jesus as ascending a mountain, and being
seated there during delivery of his discourse, Luke says, almost in
contradiction to him, that Jesus came down and stood in the plain.
Further, the sermon in Luke contains but a fourth part of that in
Matthew, while it has some elements peculiarly its own.

To avoid the unpleasant admission that one of two inspired Evangelists
must be in error,—which is inevitable if in relation to the same
discourse one of them makes Jesus deliver it on the mountain, the other
in the plain; the one sitting, the other standing; the one earlier, the
other later; if either the one has made important omissions, or the
other as important additions;—the ancient harmonists pronounced these
discourses to be distinct, [910] on the plea that Jesus must frequently
have treated of the essential points of his doctrine, and may therefore
have repeated word for word certain impressive enunciations. This may
be positively denied with respect to long discourses, and even concise
maxims will always be reproduced in a new guise and connexion by a
gifted and inventive teacher; to say the least, it is impossible that
any but a very barren mind should repeat the same formal exordium, and
the same concluding illustration, on separate occasions.

The identity of the discourses being established, the first effort was
to conciliate or to explain the divergencies between the two accounts
so as to leave their credibility unimpeached. In reference to the
different designation of the locality, Paulus insists on the ἐπὶ of
Luke, which he interprets to imply that Jesus stood over the plain, and
therefore on a hill. Tholuck, more happily, distinguishes the level
space, τόπος πεδινὸς, from the plain properly so called, and regards it
as a less abrupt part of the mountain. But as one Evangelist makes
Jesus ascend the mountain to deliver his discourse, while the other
makes him descend for the same purpose, these conciliators ought to
admit, with Olshausen, that if Jesus taught in the plain, according to
Luke, Matthew has overlooked the descent that preceded the discourse;
or if, as Matthew says, Jesus taught seated on the mountain, Luke has
forgotten to mention that after he had descended, the pressure of the
crowd induced him to reascend before he commenced his harangue. And
without doubt each was ignorant of what he omits, but each knew that
tradition associated this discourse with a sojourn of Jesus on a
mountain. Matthew thought the mountain a convenient elevation for one
addressing a multitude; Luke, on the contrary, imagined a descent
necessary for the purpose: hence the double discrepancy, for he who
teaches from a mountain is sufficiently elevated over his hearers to
sit, but he who teaches in a plain will naturally stand. The
chronological divergencies, as well as the local, must be admitted, if
we would abstain from fruitless efforts at conciliation. [911]

The difference as to the length and contents of the discourse is
susceptible of three explanations: either the concise record of Luke is
a mere extract from the entire discourse which Matthew gives without
abridgment; or Matthew has incorporated many sayings belonging properly
to other occasions; or, lastly, both these causes of variety have
concurred. He who, with Tholuck, wishes to preserve intact the fides
divina, or with Paulus, the fides humana of the Evangelists, will
prefer the first supposition, because to withhold the true is more
innocent than to add the false. The above theologians hold that the
train of thought in the Sermon on the Mount, as given by Matthew, is
closely consecutive, and that this is a proof of its original unity.
But any compiler not totally devoid of ability, can give a tolerable
appearance of connectedness to sayings which did not originally belong
to each other; and even these commentators are obliged to admit [912]
that the alleged consecutiveness extends over no more than half the
sermon, for from vi. 19 it is a string of more or less isolated
sentences, some of them very unlikely to have been uttered on the
occasion. More recent criticism has therefore decided that the shorter
account of Luke presents the discourse of Jesus in its original form,
and that Matthew has taken the licence of incorporating with this much
that was uttered by Jesus at various times, so as to retain the general
sketch—the exordium, peroration, and essential train of thought; while
between these compartments he inserted many sayings more or less
analogous borrowed from elsewhere. [913] This view is especially
supported by the fact that many of the sentences, which in Matthew make
part of the Sermon on the Mount, are in Mark and Luke dispersed through
a variety of scenes. Compelled to grant this, yet earnestly solicitous
to avert from the Evangelist an imputation that might invalidate his
claim to be considered an eye-witness, other theologians maintain that
Matthew did not compile the discourse under the idea that it was
actually spoken on a single occasion, but with the clearest knowledge
that such was not the case. [914] It is with justice remarked in
opposition to this, that when Matthew represents Jesus as ascending the
mountain before he begins his discourse, and descending after its
close, he obviously makes these two incidents the limits of a single
address; and that when he speaks of the impression which the discourse
produced on the multitude, whose presence he states as the inducement
to its delivery, he could not but intend to convey the idea of a
continuous harangue. [915] As to Luke’s edition of the sermon, there
are parts in which the interrupted connexion betrays deficiencies, and
there are additions which do not look genuine; [916] it is also
doubtful whether he assigns a more appropriate connexion to the
passages in the position of which he differs from Matthew; [917] and
hence, as we shall soon see more fully, he has in this instance no
advantage over his predecessor.

The assemblage to whom the Sermon on the Mount was addressed, might
from Luke’s account be supposed a narrow circle, for he states that the
choice of the apostles immediately preceded the discourse, and that at
its commencement Jesus lifted up his eyes on his disciples, and he does
not, like Matthew, note the multitude, ὄχλους, as part of the audience.
On the other hand, Matthew also mentions that before the sermon the
disciples gathered round Jesus and were taught by him; and Luke
represents the discourse as being delivered in the audience of the
people (vii. 1); it is therefore evident that Jesus spoke to the crowd
in general, but with a particular view to the edification of his
disciples. [918] We have no reason to doubt that a real harangue of
Jesus, more than ordinarily solemn and public, was the foundation of
the evangelical accounts before us.

Let us now proceed to an examination of particulars. In both editions,
the Sermon on the Mount is opened by a series of beatitudes; in Luke,
however, not only are several wanting which we find in Matthew, but
most of those common to both are in the former taken in another sense
than in the latter. [919] The poor, πτωχοὶ, are not specified as in
Matthew by the addition, in spirit, τῷ πνεύματι; they are therefore not
those who have a deep consciousness of inward poverty and misery, but
the literally poor; neither is the hunger of the πεινῶντες (hungering)
referred to τὴν δικαιοσύνην (righteousness); it is therefore not
spiritual hunger, but bodily; moreover, the adverb νῦν, now, definitely
marks out those who hunger and those who weep, the πεινῶντες and
κλαίοντες. Thus in Luke the antithesis is not, as in Matthew, between
the present sorrows of pious souls, whose pure desires are yet
unsatisfied, and their satisfaction about to come; but between present
suffering and future well-being in general. [920] This mode of
contrasting the αἰὼν οὗτος and the αἰὼν μέλλων, the present age and the
future, is elsewhere observable in Luke, especially in the parable of
the rich man; and without here inquiring which of the two
representations is probably the original, I shall merely remark, that
this of Luke is conceived entirely in the spirit of the Ebionites,—a
spirit which has of late been supposed discernible in Matthew. It is a
capital principle with the Ebionites, as they are depicted in the
Clementine Homilies, that he who has his portion in the present age,
will be destitute in the age to come; while he who renounces earthly
possessions, thereby accumulates heavenly treasures. [921] The last
beatitude relates to those who are persecuted for the sake of Jesus.
Luke in the parallel passage has, for the Son of man’s sake; hence the
words for my sake in Matthew, must be understood to refer to Jesus
solely in his character of Messiah. [922]

The beatitudes are followed in Luke by as many woes οὐαὶ, which are
wanting in Matthew. In these the opposition established by the
Ebionites between this world and the other, is yet more strongly
marked; for woe is denounced on the rich, the full, and the joyous,
simply as such, and they are threatened with the evils corresponding to
their present advantages, under the new order of things to be
introduced by the Messiah; a view that reminds us of the Epistle of
James, v. 1 ff. The last woe is somewhat stiffly formed after the model
of the last beatitude, for it is evidently for the sake of the contrast
to the true prophets, so much calumniated, that the false prophets are
said, without any historical foundation, to have been spoken well of by
all men. We may therefore conjecture, with Schleiermacher, [923] that
we are indebted for these maledictions to the inventive fertility of
the author of the third gospel. He added this supplement to the
beatitudes, less because, as Schleiermacher supposes, he perceived a
chasm, which he knew not how to fill, than because he judged it
consistent with the character of the Messiah, that, like Moses of old,
he should couple curses with blessings. The Sermon on the Mount is
regarded as the counterpart of the law, delivered on Mount Sinai; but
the introduction, especially in Luke, reminds us more of a passage in
Deuteronomy, in which Moses commands that on the entrance of the
Israelitish people into the promised land, one half of them shall take
their stand on Mount Gerizim, and pronounce a manifold blessing on the
observers of the law, the other half on Mount Ebal, whence they were to
fulminate as manifold a curse on its transgressors. We read in Josh.
viii. 33 ff. that this injunction was fulfilled. [924]

With the beatitudes, Matthew suitably connects the representation of
the disciples as the salt of the earth, and the light of the world (v.
13 ff.). In Luke, the discourse on the salt is, with a rather different
opening, introduced in another place (xiv. 34 f.), where Jesus
admonishes his hearers to ponder the sacrifices that must be made by
those who would follow him, and rather to abstain from the profession
of discipleship than to maintain it dishonourably; and to this succeeds
aptly enough the comparison of such degenerate disciples to salt that
has lost its savour. Thus the dictum accords with either context, and
from its aphoristical conciseness would be likely to recur, so that it
may have been really spoken in both discourses. On the contrary, it
cannot have been spoken in the sequence in which it is placed by Mark
(ix. 50): for the idea that every one shall be salted with fire (in
allusion to hell), has no internal connexion with the comparison of the
true disciples of Jesus to salt, denoting their superiority: the
connexion is merely external, resulting from the verbal affinity of
ἁλίζειν and ἅλας,—it is the connexion of the dictionary. [925] The
altered sequel which Mark gives to the apothegm (have salt in
yourselves, and be at peace with one another) might certainly be united
to it without incongruity, but it would accord equally well with quite
a different train of thought. The apothegm on the light which is not to
be hidden, as the salt is not to be without savour, is also wanting in
the Sermon on the Mount as given by Luke; who, however, omitting the
special application to the disciples, has substantially the same
doctrine in two different places. We find it first (viii. 16)
immediately after the interpretation of the parable of the sower, where
it also occurs in Mark (iv. 21), It must be admitted that there is no
incoherence in associating the shining of the light with the
fructification of the seed; still, a judicious teacher will pause on
the interpretation of a parable, and will not disturb its effect by a
hasty transition to new images. At any rate there is no intrinsic
connexion between the shining of the inward light, and the declaration
appended to it by Luke, that all secrets shall be made manifest. We
have here a case which is of frequent recurrence with this Evangelist;
that, namely, of a variety of isolated sayings being thrown confusedly
together between two independent discourses or narratives. Thus between
the parable of the sower and the narrative of the visit paid to Jesus
by his mother and brethren, the apothegm on the light is inserted on
account of its internal analogy with the parable; then, because in this
apothegm there occurs the opposition between concealment and
manifestation, it suggested to the writer the otherwise heterogeneous
discourse on the revelation of all secrets; whereupon is added, quite
irrelevantly to the context, but with some relation to the parable, the
declaration, Whosoever hath, to him shall be given. In the second
passage on the manifestation of the light (xi. 33), the subject has
absolutely no connexion, unless we interpolate one [926] with that of
the context, which turns on the condemnation of the cotemporaries of
Jesus by the Ninevites. The fact is, that here again, between the
discourses against the demand for signs and those at the Pharisee’s
dinner, we have a chasm filled up with disjointed fragments of
harangues.

At v. 17 ff. follows the transition to the main subject of the sermon;
the assurance of Jesus that he came not to destroy the law and the
prophets, but to fulfil, etc. Now as Jesus herein plainly presupposes
that he is himself the Messiah, to whom was ascribed authority to
abolish a part of the law, this declaration cannot properly belong to a
period in which, if Matt. xvi. 13 ff. be rightly placed, he had not yet
declared himself to be the Messiah. Luke (xvi. 17) inserts this
declaration together with the apparently contradictory one, that the
law and the prophets were in force until the coming of John. These are
two propositions that we cannot suppose to have been uttered
consecutively; and the secret of their conjunction in Luke’s gospel
lies in the word νόμος, law, which happens to occur in both. [927] It
is to be observed that between the parable of the steward and that of
the rich man, we have another of those pauses in which Luke is fond of
introducing his fragments.

So little, it appears from v. 20, is it the design of Jesus to
inculcate a disregard of the Mosaic law, that he requires a far
stricter observance of its precepts than the Scribes and Pharisees, and
he makes the latter appear in contrast to himself as the underminers of
the law. Then follows a series of Mosaic commandments, on which Jesus
comments so as to show that he penetrates into the spirit of the law,
instead of cleaving to the mere letter, and especially discerns the
worthlessness of the rabbinical glosses (48). This section, in the
order and completeness in which we find it in Matthew, is wanting in
Luke’s Sermon on the Mount; a decisive proof that the latter has
deficiencies. For not only does this chapter contain the fundamental
thought of the discourse as given by Matthew, but the desultory sayings
which Luke gives, concerning the love of enemies, mercifulness and
beneficence, only acquire a definite purpose and point of union in the
contrast between the spiritual interpretation of the law given by
Jesus, and the carnal one given by the doctors of the time. The words,
too, with which Luke makes Jesus proceed after the last woe: But I say
unto you, and those at v. 39, And he spake a parable unto them, have
been correctly pointed out as indicative of chasms. [928] As regards
the isolated parallel passages, the admonition to a quick
reconciliation with an adversary (v. 25 f.), is, to say the least, not
so easily brought into connexion with the foregoing matter in Luke
(xii. 58) as in Matthew. [929] It is still worse with the passage in
Luke which is parallel with Matt. v. 32; this text (relative to
divorce), which in Matthew is linked in the general chain of ideas, is
in Luke (xvi. 18) thrust into one of the apertures we have noticed,
between the assurance of the perpetuity of the law and the parable of
the rich man. Olshausen tries to find a thread of connexion between the
passage and the one preceding it, by interpreting adultery, μοιχεύειν,
allegorically, as faithlessness to the divine law; and Schleiermacher
[930] attaches it to the succeeding parable by referring it to the
adulterous Herod: but such interpretations are altogether visionary.
[931] Probably tradition had apprized the Evangelist that Jesus, after
the foregoing declaration as to the perpetuity of the Mosaic law, had
enunciated his severe principle on the subject of divorce, and hence he
gave it this position, not knowing more of its original connexion. In
Matt. xix. 9, we find a reiteration of this principle on an occasion
very likely to call it forth. The exhortations to patience and
submissiveness, form, in Matthew, the spiritual interpretation of the
old rule, an eye for an eye, etc., and are therefore a following out of
the previous train of thought. In Luke (vi. 29), they are introduced
with much less precision by the command concerning love to enemies:
which command is also decidedly better given in Matthew as the
rectification of the precept, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate
thine enemy (43 ff.). Again: the observation that to love friends is
nothing more than bad men can do, is, in Matthew, made, in order to
controvert the traditional perversion of the Mosaic injunction to love
one’s neighbour, into a permission to hate enemies: in Luke, the
observation follows the rule, Whatsoever ye would that men should do to
you, etc., which in Matthew occurs farther on (vii. 12) without any
connexion. On the whole, if the passage in Luke from vi. 2–36, be
compared with the corresponding one in Matthew, there will be found in
the latter an orderly course of thought; in the former, considerable
confusion. [932]

The warnings against Pharisaic hypocrisy (vi. 1–6) are without a
parallel in Luke; but he has one of the model prayer, which recent
criticism has turned not a little to the disadvantage of Matthew. The
ancient harmonists, it is true, had no hesitation in supposing that
Jesus delivered this prayer twice,—in the connexion in which it is
given by Matthew, as well as under the circumstances narrated by Luke
(xi. ff.). [933] But if Jesus had already in the Sermon on the Mount
given a model prayer, his disciples would scarcely have requested one
afterwards, as if nothing of the kind had occurred; and it is still
more improbable that Jesus would repeat the same formulary, without any
recollection that he had delivered it to these disciples long before.
Hence our most recent critics have decided that Luke alone has
preserved the natural and true occasion on which this prayer was
communicated, and that like many other fragments, it was interpolated
in Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount by the writer. [934] But the vaunted
naturalness of Luke’s representation, I, for one, cannot discover.
Apart from the improbability, admitted even by the above critics, that
the disciples of Jesus should have remained without any direction to
pray until the last journey, in which Luke places the scene; it is
anything but natural that Jesus should abstain from giving his
disciples the exemplar which was in his mind until they sought for it,
and that then he should forthwith fall into prayer. He had, doubtless,
often prayed in their circle from the commencement of their
intercourse; and if so, their request was superfluous, and must, as in
John xiv. 9, have produced only an admonition to recollect what they
had long seen and heard in his society. The account of Luke seems to
have been framed on mere conjecture; it was known that the above prayer
proceeded from Jesus, and the further question as to the motive for its
communication, received the gratuitous answer: without doubt his
disciples had asked him for such an exemplar. Without, therefore,
maintaining that Matthew has preserved to us the connexion in which
this prayer was originally uttered by Jesus, we are not the less in
doubt whether it has a more accurate position in Luke. [935] With
regard to the elements of the prayer, it is impossible to deny what
Wetstein says: tota hæc oratio ex formulis Hebræorum concinnata est;
[936] but Fritzsche’s observation is also just, that desires of so
general a nature might be uttered in the prayers of various persons,
even in similar phraseology, without any other cause than the broad
uniformity of human feeling. [937] We may add that the selection and
allocation of the petitions in the prayer are entirely original, and
bear the impress of that religious consciousness which Jesus possessed
and sought to impart to his followers. [938] Matthew inserts after the
conclusion of the prayer two propositions, which are properly the
corollary of the third petition, but which seem inaptly placed, not
only because they are severed by the concluding petition from the
passage to which they have reference, but because they have no point of
coincidence with the succeeding censures and admonitions which turn on
the hypocrisy of the Pharisaic fasts. Mark, however, has still more
infelicitously appended these propositions to the discourse of Jesus on
the efficacy of believing prayer (xi. 25). [939]

At vi. 19, the thread of strict connexion is broken, according to the
admission of Paulus, and so far all expositors are bound to agree with
him. But his position, that notwithstanding the admitted lack of
coherence in the succeeding collection of sentences, Jesus spoke them
consecutively, is not equally tenable; on the contrary, our more recent
critics have all the probabilities on their side when they suppose,
that in this latter half of the Sermon on the Mount Matthew has
incorporated a variety of sayings uttered by Jesus on different
occasions. First stands the apothegm on earthly and heavenly treasures
(19–21), which Luke, with more apparent correctness, inserts in a
discourse of Jesus, the entire drift of which is to warn his adherents
against earthly cares (xii. 33 f.). It is otherwise with the next
sentence, on the eye being the light of the body. Luke annexes this to
the apothegm already mentioned on the light that is to be exhibited;
now as the light λύχνος, placed on a candlestick, denotes something
quite distinct from what is intended by the comparison of the eye to a
light, λύχνος, the only reason for combining the two apothegms lies in
the bare word λύχνος: a rule of association which belongs properly to
the dictionary, and which, beyond it, is worse than none. Then follows,
also without any apparent connexion, the apothegm on the two masters,
appended by Luke to the parable of the steward, with which it happens
to have the word Mammon, μαμωνᾶς, in common. Next comes, in Matthew v.
25–34, a dissuasion from earthly solicitude, on the ground that natural
objects flourish and are sustained without anxiety on their part; in
Luke, this doctrine is consistently united with the parable (found only
in the third gospel) of the man who, in the midst of amassing earthly
treasures, is summoned away by death (xii. 22 ff.). [940] The warning
not to be blind to our own faults while we are sharp-sighted and severe
towards those of others (vii. 1–5), would, if we rejected the passage
from v. 19, of chap, vi. to the end, form a suitable continuation to
the previous admonition against Pharisaic sanctimoniousness (vi.
16–18), and might, therefore, have belonged to the original body of the
discourse. [941] This is the more probable because Luke has the same
warning in his Sermon on the Mount (37 f., 41 f.), where it happens to
assort very well with the preceding exhortation to mercifulness; but at
v. 39 and 40, and part of 38, it is interrupted by subjects altogether
irrelevant. The text, With what measure ye mete, etc., is very
inappropriately interposed by Mark (iv. 24), in a passage similar in
kind to one of Luke’s intermediate miscellanies. V. 6, in Matthew, is
equally destitute of connexion and parallel; but the succeeding
assurances and arguments as to the efficacy of prayer (v. 7–11), are
found in Luke xi. 9, very fitly associated with another parable
peculiar to that Evangelist: that of the friend awaked at midnight The
apothegm, What ye would that men should do unto you, etc., is quite
isolated in Matthew; in Luke, it has only an imperfect connexion. [942]
The following passage (v. 13 f.) on the strait gate στενὴ πύλη is
introduced in Luke (xiii. 23) by the question addressed to Jesus: Are
there few that be saved? εἰ ὀλίγοι οἱ σωζόμενοι; which seems likely
enough to have been conceived by one who knew that Jesus had uttered
such a saying as the above, but was at a loss for an occasion that
might prompt the idea; moreover, the image is far less completely
carried out in Luke than in Matthew, and is blended with parabolical
elements. [943] The apothegm on the tree being known by its fruits (v.
16–20), appears in Luke (vi. 43 ff.), and even in Matthew, farther on
(xii. 33 ff.), to have a general application, but in Matthew’s Sermon
on the Mount, it has a special relation to the false prophets; in Luke,
it is in the last degree misplaced. The denunciation of those who say
to Jesus, Lord, Lord, but who, on account of their evil deeds will be
rejected by him at the day of judgment (21–23), decidedly presupposes
the Messiahship of Jesus, and cannot therefore, have well belonged to
so early a period as that of the Sermon on the Mount; hence it is more
appropriately placed by Luke (xiii. 25 ff.). The peroration of the
discourse is, as we have mentioned, common to both Evangelists.

The foregoing comparison shows us that the discourses of Jesus, like
fragments of granite, could not be dissolved by the flood of oral
tradition; but they were not seldom torn from their natural connexion,
floated away from their original situation, and deposited in places to
which they did not properly belong. Relative to this effect, there is
this distinction between the three first Evangelists; Matthew, like an
able compiler, though far from being sufficiently informed to give each
relic in its original connexion, has yet for the most part succeeded in
judiciously associating analogous materials; while the two other
Evangelists have left many small fragments just where chance threw
them, in the intervals between longer discourses. Luke has laboured in
some instances to combine these fragments artificially, but he could
not thus compensate for the absence of natural connexion.

§ 77.

INSTRUCTIONS TO THE TWELVE. LAMENTATIONS OVER THE GALILEAN CITIES. JOY
OVER THE CALLING OF THE SIMPLE.

The first gospel (x.) reports another long discourse as having been
delivered by Jesus, on the occasion of his sending out the twelve to
preach the kingdom of heaven. Part of this discourse is peculiar to the
first gospel; that portion of it which is common to the two other
synoptists is only partially assigned by them to the same occasion,
Luke introducing its substance in connexion with the mission of the
seventy (x. 2 ff.), and in a subsequent conversation with the disciples
(xii. 2 ff.). Some portion of the discourse is also found repeated both
in Matthew and the other Evangelists, in the prophetic description
given by Jesus of his second advent.

In this instance again, while the older harmonists have no hesitation
in supposing a repetition of the same discourse, [944] our more recent
critics are of opinion that Luke only has the true occasions and the
original arrangement of the materials, and that Matthew has assembled
them according to his own discretion. [945] Those expositors who are
apologetically inclined, maintain that Matthew was not only conscious
of here associating sayings uttered at various times, but presumed that
this would be obvious to his readers. [946] On the other hand, it is
justly observed that the manner in which the discourse is introduced by
the words: These twelve Jesus sent forth, and commanded them (v. 5);
and closed by the words: when Jesus made an end of commanding his
twelve disciples, etc. (xi. 1); proves clearly enough that it was the
intention of the Evangelist to give his compilation the character of a
continuous harangue. [947]

Much that is peculiar to Matthew in this discourse, appears to be
merely an amplification on thoughts which are also found in the
corresponding passages of the two other synoptists; but there are two
particulars in the opening of the instructions as detailed by the
former, which differ specifically from anything presented by his fellow
Evangelists. These are the limitation of the agency of the disciples to
the Jews (v. 5, 6), and the commission (associated with that to
announce the kingdom of heaven and heal the sick, of which Luke also
speaks, ix. 2), to raise the dead: a surprising commission, since we
know of no instances previous to the departure of Jesus, in which the
apostles raised the dead; and to suppose such when they are not
narrated, after the example of Olshausen, is an expedient to which few
will be inclined.

All that the synoptists have strictly in common in the instructions to
the twelve, are the rules for their external conduct; how they were to
journey, and how to behave under a variety of circumstances (Matt. v.
9–11, 14; Mark vi. 8–11; Luke ix. 3–5). Here, however, we find a
discrepancy; according to Matthew and Luke, Jesus forbids the disciples
to take with them, not only gold, a scrip, and the like, but even
shoes, ὑποδήματα, and a staff, ῥάβδον; according to Mark, on the
contrary, he merely forbids their taking more than a staff and sandals,
εἰ μὴ ῥάβδον μόνον and σανδάλια. This discrepancy is most easily
accounted for by the admission, that tradition only preserved a
reminiscence of Jesus having signified the simplicity of the apostolic
equipment by the mention of the staff and shoes, and that hence one of
the Evangelists understood that Jesus had interdicted all travelling
requisites except these; the other, that these also were included in
his prohibition. It was consistent with Mark’s love of the picturesque
to imagine a wandering apostle furnished with a staff, and therefore to
give the preference to the former view.

It is on the occasion of the mission of the seventy, that Luke (x. 2)
puts into the mouth of Jesus the words which Matthew gives (ix. 37 f.)
as the motive for sending forth the twelve, namely, the apothegm, The
harvest truly is ready, but the labourers are few; also the declaration
that the labourer is worthy of his hire (v. 7, comp. Matt x. 10); the
discourse on the apostolic salutation and its effect (Matt. v. 12 f.;
Luke v. 5 f.); the denunciation of those who should reject the apostles
and their message (Matt. v. 15; Luke v. 12); and finally, the words,
Behold, I send you forth as lambs, etc. (Matt. v. 16; Luke v. 3). The
sequence of these propositions is about equally natural in both cases.
Their completeness is alternately greater in the one than in the other;
but Matthew’s additions generally turn on essentials, as in v. 16;
those of Luke on externals, as in v. 7, 8, and in v. 4, where there is
the singular injunction to salute no man by the way, which might appear
an unhistorical exaggeration of the urgency of the apostolic errand,
did we not know that the Jewish greetings of that period were not a
little ceremonious. [948] Sieffert observes that the instructions which
Jesus gave—according to Matthew, to the twelve, according to Luke, to
the seventy—might, so far as their tenor is concerned, have been
imparted with equal fitness on either occasion; but I doubt this, for
it seems to me improbable that Jesus should, as Luke states, dismiss
his more confidential disciples with scanty rules for their outward
conduct, and that to the seventy he should make communications of much
greater moment and pathos. [949] The above critic at length decides in
favour of Luke, whose narrative appears to him more precise, because it
distinguishes the seventy from the twelve. We have already discussed
this point, and have found that a comparison is rather to the advantage
of Matthew. The blessing pronounced on him who should give even a cup
of cold water to the disciples of Jesus (v. 42), is at least more
judiciously inserted by Matthew as the conclusion of the discourse of
instructions, than in the endless confusion of the latter part of Mark
ix. (v. 41), where ἐὰν (if), and ὃς ἂν (whosoever), seem to form the
only tie between the successive propositions.

The case is otherwise when we regard those portions of the discourse
which Luke places in his twelfth chapter, and even later, and which in
Matthew are distinguishable as a second part of the same discourse.
Such are the directions to the apostles as to their conduct before
tribunals (Matt. x. 19 f.; Luke xii. 11); the exhortation not to fear
those who can only kill the body (Matt. v. 28; Luke v. 4 f.); the
warning against the denial of Jesus (Matt. v. 32 f.; Luke v. 8 f.); the
discourse on the general disunion of which he would be the cause (Matt.
v. 34 ff.; Luke v. 51 ff.); a passage to which Matthew, prompted
apparently by the enumeration of the members of a family, attaches the
declaration of Jesus that these are not to be valued above him, that
his cross must be taken, etc., which he partly repeats on a subsequent
occasion, and in a more suitable connexion (xvi. 24 f.); further,
predictions which recur in the discourse on the Mount of Olives,
relative to the universal persecution of the disciples of Jesus (v. 17
f. 22, comp. xxiv. 9, 13); the saying which Luke inserts in the Sermon
on the Mount (vi. 40), and which also appears in John (xv. 20), that
the disciple has no claim to a better lot than his master (v. 24 f.);
lastly, the direction, which is peculiar to the discourse in Matthew,
to flee from one city to another, with the accompanying consolation (v.
23). These commands and exhortations have been justly pronounced by
critics [950] to be unsuitable to the first mission of the twelve,
which, like the alleged mission of the seventy, had no other than happy
results (Luke ix. 10, x. 17); they presuppose the troublous
circumstances which supervened after the death of Jesus, or perhaps in
the latter period of his life. According to this, Luke is more correct
than Matthew in assigning these discourses to the last journey of
Jesus; [951] unless, indeed, such descriptions of the subsequent fate
of the apostles and other adherents of Jesus were produced ex eventu,
after his death, and put into his mouth in the form of prophecies; a
conjecture which is strongly suggested by the words, He who taketh not
up his cross, etc. (v. 38). [952]

The next long discourse of Jesus in Matthew (chap. xi.) we have already
considered, so far as it relates to the Baptist. From v. 20–24, there
follow complaints and threatenings against the Galilean cities, in
which most of his mighty works were done, and which, nevertheless,
believed not. Our modern critics are perhaps right in their opinion
that these apostrophes are less suitable to the period of his Galilean
ministry, in which Matthew places them, than to that in which they are
introduced by Luke (x. 13 ff.); namely, when Jesus had left Galilee,
and was on his way to Judea and Jerusalem, with a view to his final
experiment. [953] But a consideration of the immediate context seems to
reverse the probability. In Matthew, the description of the ungracious
reception which Jesus and John had alike met with, leads very naturally
to the accusations against those places which had been the chief
theatres of the ministry of the former; but it is difficult to suppose,
according to Luke, that Jesus would speak of his past sad experience to
the seventy, whose minds must have been entirely directed to the
future, unless we conceive that he chose a subject so little adapted to
the exigencies of those whom he was addressing, in order to unite the
threatened judgment on the Galilean cities, with that which he had just
denounced against the cities that should reject his messengers. But it
is more likely that this association proceeded solely from the writer,
who, by the comparison of a city that should prove refractory to the
disciples of Jesus, to Sodom, was reminded of the analogous comparison
to Tyre and Sidon, of places that had been disobedient to Jesus
himself, without perceiving the incongruity of the one with the
circumstances which had dictated the other. [954]

The joy, ἀγαλλίασις, expressed by Jesus (v. 25–27) on account of the
insight afforded to babes, νηπίοις, is but loosely attached by Matthew
to the preceding maledictions. As it supposes a change in the mental
frame of Jesus, induced by pleasing circumstances, Luke (x. 17, 21
ff.), would have all the probabilities on his side, in making the
return of the seventy with satisfactory tidings the cause of the above
expression; were it not that the appointment of the seventy, and
consequently their return, are altogether problematical; besides, it is
possible to refer the passage in question to the return of the twelve
from their mission. Matthew connects with this rejoicing of Jesus his
invitation to the weary and heavy laden (v. 28–30). This is wanting in
Luke, who, instead, makes Jesus turn to his disciples privately, and
pronounce them blessed in being privileged to see and hear things which
many prophets and kings yearned after in vain (23 f.): an observation
which does not so specifically agree with the preceding train of
thought, as the context assigned to it by Matthew, and which is
moreover inserted by the latter Evangelist in a connexion (xiii. 16 f.)
that may be advantageously confronted with that of Luke.

§ 78.

THE PARABLES.

According to Matthew (chap. xiii.), Jesus delivered seven parables, all
relating to the βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν. Modern criticism, however, has
doubted whether Jesus really uttered so many of these symbolical
discourses on one occasion. [955] The parable, it has been observed, is
a kind of problem, to be solved by the reflection of the hearer; hence
after every parable a pause is requisite, if it be the object of the
teacher to convey real instruction, and not to distract by a
multiplicity of ill-understood images. [956] It will, at least, be
admitted, with Neander, that parables on the same or closely-related
subjects can only be spoken consecutively, when, under manifold forms,
and from various points of view, they lead to the same result. [957]
Among the seven parables in question, those of the mustard-seed and the
leaven have a common fundamental idea, differently shadowed forth—the
gradual growth and ultimate prevalence of the kingdom of God: those of
the net and the tares represent the mingling of the good with the bad
in the kingdom of God; those of the treasure and the pearl inculcate
the inestimable and all-indemnifying value of the kingdom of God; and
the parable of the sower depicts the unequal susceptibility of men to
the preaching of the kingdom of God. Thus there are no less than four
separate fundamental ideas involved in this collection of
parables—ideas which are indeed connected by their general relation to
the kingdom of God, but which present this object under aspects so
widely different, that for their thorough comprehension a pause after
each was indispensable. Hence, it has been concluded, Jesus would not
merit the praise of being a judicious teacher, if, as Matthew
represents, he had spoken all the above parables in rapid succession.
[958] If we suppose in this instance, again, an assemblage of
discourses similar in kind, but delivered on different occasions, we
are anew led to the discussion as to whether Matthew was aware of the
latter circumstance, or whether he believed that he was recording a
continuous harangue. The introductory form, And he spake many things to
them in parables (v. 3): καὶ ἐλάλησεν αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἐν παραβολαῖς, and
the concluding one, when Jesus had finished these parables (v. 53): ὅτε
ἐτέλεσεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς τὰς παραβολὰς ταύτας, seem to be a clear proof that
he did not present the intermediate matter as a compilation. Mark,
indeed, narrates (iv. 10), that at the close of the first parable, the
disciples being again, καταμόνας, in private, with Jesus, asked him for
its interpretation; and hence it has been contended [959] that there
was an interruption of the discourse at this point; but this cannot
serve to explain the account of Matthew, for he represents the request
of the disciples as being preferred on the spot, without any previous
retirement from the crowd; thus proving that he did not suppose such an
interruption. The concluding form which Matthew inserts after the
fourth parable (v. 34 f.), might, with better reason, be adduced as
intimating an interruption, for he there comprises all the foregoing
parables in one address by the words, All these things spake Jesus in
parables, etc., ταῦτα πάντα ἐλάλησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐν παραβολαῖς κ.τ.λ., and
makes the pause still more complete by the application of an Old
Testament prophecy; moreover, Jesus is here said (36) to change his
locality, to dismiss the multitude to whom he had hitherto been
speaking on the shore of the Galilean sea, and enter the house, εἰς τὴν
οἰκίαν, where he gives three new parables, in addition to the
interpretation which his disciples had solicited of the second. But
that the delivery of the last three parables was separated from that of
the preceding ones by a change of place, and consequently by a short
interval of time, very little alters the state of the case. For it is
highly improbable that Jesus would without intermission tax the memory
of the populace, whose minds it was so easy to overburthen, with four
parables, two of which were highly significant; and that he should
forthwith overwhelm his disciples, whose power of comprehension he had
been obliged to aid in the application of the first two parables, with
three new ones, instead of ascertaining if they were capable of
independently expounding the third and fourth. Further, we have only to
look more closely at Matthew’s narrative, in order to observe that he
has fallen quite involuntarily on the interruption at v. 34 ff. If it
were his intention to communicate a series of parables, with the
explanations that Jesus privately gave to his disciples of the two
which were most important, and were therefore to be placed at the head
of the series, there were only three methods on which he could proceed.
First, he might make Jesus, immediately after the enunciation of a
parable, give its interpretation to his disciples in the presence of
the multitude, as he actually does in the case of the first parable
(10–23). But the representation is beset with the difficulty of
conceiving how Jesus, surrounded by a crowd, whose expectation was on
the stretch, could find leisure for a conversation aside with his
disciples. [960] This inconvenience Mark perceived, and therefore chose
the second resource that was open to him—that of making Jesus with his
disciples withdraw after the first parable into the house, and there
deliver its interpretation. But such a proceeding would be too great a
hindrance to one who proposed publicly to deliver several parables one
after the other; for if Jesus returned to the house immediately after
the first parable, he had left the scene in which the succeeding ones
could be conveniently imparted to the people. Consequently, the
narrator in the first gospel cannot, with respect to the interpretation
of the second parable, either repeat his first plan, or resort to the
second; he therefore adopts a third, and proceeding uninterruptedly
through two further parables, it is only at their close that he
conducts Jesus to the house, and there makes him impart the arrear of
interpretation. Herewith there arose in the mind of the narrator a sort
of rivalry between the parables which he had yet in reserve, and the
interpretation, the arrear of which embarrassed him; as soon as the
former were absent from his recollection, the latter would be present
with its inevitably associated form of conclusion and return homeward;
and when any remaining parables recurred to him, he was obliged to make
them the sequel of the interpretation. Thus it befel with the three
last parables in Matthew’s narration; so that he was reduced almost
against his will to make the disciples their sole participants, though
it does not appear to have been the custom of Jesus thus to clothe his
private instructions; and Mark (v. 33 f.) plainly supposes the parables
which follow the interpretation of the second, to be also addressed to
the people. [961]

Mark, who (iv. 1) depicts the same scene by the sea-side, as Matthew,
has in connexion with it only three parables, of which the first and
third correspond to the first and third of Matthew, but the middle one
is commonly deemed peculiar to Mark. [962] Matthew has in its place the
parable wherein the kingdom of heaven is likened to a man who sowed
good seed in his field; but while men slept, the enemy came and sowed
tares among it, which grew up with the wheat. The servants know not
from whence the tares come, and propose to root them up; but the master
commands them to let both grow together until the harvest, when it will
be time enough to separate them. In Mark, Jesus compares the kingdom of
heaven to a man who casts seed into the ground, and while he sleeps and
rises again, the seed passes, he knows not how, from one stage of
development to another: and when it is ripe, he puts in the sickle,
because the harvest is come. In this parable there is wanting what
constitutes the dominant idea in that of Matthew, the tares, sown by
the enemy; but as, nevertheless, the other ideas, of sowing, sleeping,
growing one knows not how, and harvest, wholly correspond, it may be
questioned whether Mark does not here merely give the same parable in a
different version, which he preferred to that of Matthew, because it
seemed more intermediate between the first parable of the sower, and
the third of the mustard-seed.

Luke, also, has only three of the seven parables given in Matt. xiii.;
namely, those of the sower, the mustard-seed, and the leaven; so that
the parables of the buried treasure, the pearl, and the net, as also
that of the tares in the field, are peculiar to Matthew. The parable of
the sower is placed by Luke (viii. 4 ff.) somewhat earlier, and in
other circumstances, than by Matthew, and apart from the two other
parables which he has in common with the first Evangelist’s series.
These he introduces later, xiii. 18–21; a position which recent critics
unanimously acknowledge as the correct one. [963] But this decision is
one of the most remarkable to which the criticism of the present age
has been led by its partiality to Luke. For if we examine the vaunted
connectedness of this Evangelist’s passages, we find that Jesus, having
healed a woman bowed down by a spirit of infirmity, silences the
punctilious ruler of the synagogue by the argument about the ox and
ass, after which it is added (v. 17), And when he had said these
things, all his adversaries were ashamed; and all the people rejoiced
for all the glorious things that were done by him. Surely so complete
and marked a form of conclusion is intended to wind up the previous
narrative, and one cannot conceive that the sequel went forward in the
same scene; on the contrary, the phrases, then said he, and again he
said, by which the parables are connected, indicate that the writer had
no longer any knowledge of the occasion on which Jesus uttered them,
and hence inserted them at random in this indeterminate manner, far
less judiciously than Matthew, who at least was careful to associate
them with analogous materials. [964]

We proceed to notice the other evangelical parables, [965] and first
among them, those which are peculiar to one Evangelist. We come
foremost in Matthew to the parable of the servant (xviii. 23 ff.) who,
although his lord had forgiven him a debt of ten thousand talents, had
no mercy on his fellow-servant who owed him a hundred; tolerably well
introduced by an exhortation to placability (v. 15), and the question
of Peter, How oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him?
Likewise peculiar to Matthew is the parable of the labourers in the
vineyard (xx. 1 ff.), which suitably enough forms a counterpoise to the
foregoing promise of a rich recompense to the disciples. Of the
sentences which Matthew appends to this parable (v. 16), the first, So
the last shall be first, and the first last, by which he had also
prefaced it (xix. 30), is the only one with which it has any internal
connexion; the other, for many are called, but few chosen, rather gives
the moral of the parable of the royal feast and the wedding garment, in
connexion with which Matthew actually repeats it (xxii. 14). It was
well adapted, however, even torn from this connexion, to circulate as
an independent apothegm, and as it appeared fitting to the Evangelist
to annex one or more short sentences to the end of a parable, he might
be induced, by some superficial similarity to the one already given, to
place them in companionship. Farther, the parable of the two sons sent
into the vineyard, is also peculiar to Matthew (xxi. 28 ff.), and is
not ill-placed in connexion with the foregoing questions and retorts
between Jesus and the Pharisees; its anti-Pharisaic significance is
also well brought out by the sequel (31 f.).

Among the parables which are peculiar to Luke, that of the two debtors
(vii. 41 ff.); that of the good Samaritan (x. 30 ff.); that of the man
whose accumulation of earthly treasure is interrupted by death (xii. 16
ff. comp. Wis. xi. 17 ff.); and also the two which figure the efficacy
of importunate prayer (xi. 5 ff., xviii. 2 ff.); have a definite, clear
signification, and with the exception of the last, which is introduced
abruptly, a tolerably consistent connexion. We may learn from the two
last parables, that it is often necessary entirely to abstract
particular features from the parables of Jesus, seeing that in one of
them God is represented by a lukewarm friend, in the other by an unjust
judge. To the latter is annexed the parable of the Pharisee and
Publican (9–14), of which only Schleiermacher, on the strength of a
connexion, fabricated by himself between it and the foregoing, can deny
the antipharisaic tendency. [966] The parables of the lost sheep, the
piece of silver, and the prodigal son (Luke xv. 3–32), have the same
direction. Matthew also has the first of these (xviii. 12 ff.), but in
a different connexion, which determines its import somewhat
differently, and without doubt, as will presently be shown, less
correctly. It is easy to imagine that these three parables were spoken
in immediate succession, because the second is merely a variation of
the first, and the third is an amplification and elucidation of them
both. Whether, according to the opinion of modern criticism, the two
succeeding parables also belong with the above to one continuous
discourse, [967] must be determined by a closer examination of their
contents, which are in themselves noteworthy.

The parable of the unjust steward, notoriously the crux interpretum, is
yet without any intrinsic difficulty. If we read to the end of the
parable, including the moral (v. 9), we gather the simple result, that
the man who without precisely using unjust means to obtain riches, is
yet in the sight of God an unprofitable servant, δοῦλος ἀχρεῖος (Luke
xvii. 10), and, in the employment of the gifts intrusted to him by God,
a steward of injustice, οἰκονόμος τῆς ἀδικίας, may best atone for this
pervading unfaithfulness by lenity and beneficence towards his
fellow-men, and may by their intervention procure a place in heaven. It
is true that the beneficence of the fictitious steward is a fraud; but
we must abstract this particular, as, in the case of two previous
parables, we have to abstract the lukewarmness of the friend, and the
injustice of the judge: nay, the necessity for such an abstraction is
intimated in the narrative itself, for from v. 8 we gather that what
the steward did in a worldly spirit is, in the application, to be
understood in a more exalted sense of the children of light. Certainly,
if we suppose the words, He that is faithful in that which is least,
etc. (10–12) to have been uttered in their present connexion, it
appears as if the steward were set forth as a model, deserving in some
sense or other the praise of faithfulness; and when (v. 13) it is said
that no servant can serve two masters, the intended inference seems to
be that this steward had held to the rightful one. Hence we have
expositions such as that of Schleiermacher, who under the master
understands the Romans; under the debtors, the Jewish people; under the
steward, the publicans, who were generous to the latter at the expense
of the former; thus, in the most arbitrary manner, transforming the
master into a violent man, and justifying the steward. [968] Olshausen
carries the perversion of the parable to the extreme, for he degrades
the master, who, by his judicial position evidently announces himself
as the representative of God, into ἄρχων τοῦ κόσμου τούτου, the prince
of this world, while he exalts the steward into the image of a man who
applies the riches of this world to spiritual objects. But as in the
moral (v. 9) the parable has a consistent ending; and as inaccurate
association is by no means unexampled in Luke; it is not admissible to
concede to the following verses any influence over the interpretation
of the parable, unless a close relation of idea can be made manifest.
Now the fact is, that the very opposite, namely, the most perplexing
diversity, exists. Moreover, it is not difficult to show what might
have seduced Luke into a false association. In the parable there was
mention of the mammon of unrighteousness, μαμωνᾶς τῆς ἀδικίας; this
suggested to him the saying of Jesus, that he who proves faithful in
the ἀδίκῳ μαμωνᾷ, the unrighteous mammon, as that which is least, may
also have the true riches committed to his trust. But the word mammon
having once taken possession of the writer’s mind, how could he avoid
recollecting the well-known aphorism of Jesus on God and Mammon, as two
incompatible masters, and adding it (v. 13), however superfluously, to
the preceding texts? [969] That by this addition the previous parable
was placed in a thoroughly false light, gave the writer little concern,
perhaps because he had not seized its real meaning, or because, in the
endeavour completely to disburthen his evangelical meaning, he lost all
solicitude about the sequence of his passages. It ought, in general, to
be more considered, that those of our Evangelists who, according to the
now prevalent opinion, noted down oral traditions, must, in the
composition of their writings, have exerted their memory to an extent
that would repress the activity of reflection; consequently the
arrangement of the materials in their narratives is governed by the
association of ideas, the laws of which are partly dependent on
external relations; and we need not be surprised to find many passages,
especially from the discourses of Jesus, ranged together for the sole
cause that they happen to have in common certain striking consonant
words.

If from hence we glance back on the position, that the parable of the
unjust steward must have been spoken in connexion with the foregoing
one of the prodigal son, we perceive that it rests merely on a false
interpretation. According to Schleiermacher, it is the defence of the
publicans against the Pharisees, that forms the bond; but there is no
trace of publicans and Pharisees in the latter parable. According to
Olshausen, the compassionate love of God, represented in the foregoing
parable, is placed in juxtaposition with the compassionate love of man,
represented in the succeeding one; but simple beneficence is the sole
idea on which the latter turns, and a parallel between this and the
manner in which God meets the lost with pardon, is equally remote from
the intention of the teacher and the nature of the subject. The remark
(v. 14) that the Pharisees heard all these things, and, being covetous,
derided Jesus, does not necessarily refer to the individuals mentioned
xv. 2, so as to imply that they had listened to the intermediate matter
as one continuous discourse; and even if that were the case, it would
only show the view of the writer with respect to the connectedness of
the parables; a view which, in the face of the foregoing investigation,
cannot possibly be binding on us. [970]

We have already discussed the passage from v. 15 to 18; it consists of
disconnected sayings, and to the last, on adultery, is annexed the
parable of the rich man, in a manner which, as we have already noticed,
it is attempted in vain to show as a real connexion. It must, however,
be conceded to Schleiermacher, that if we separate them, the
alternative, namely, the common application of the parable to the penal
justice of God, is attended with great difficulties. [971] For there is
no indication throughout the parable, of any actions on the part of the
rich man and Lazarus, that could, according to our notions, justify the
exaltation of the one to a place in Abraham’s bosom, and the
condemnation of the other to torment; the guilt of the one appears to
lie in his wealth, the merit of the other in his poverty. It is indeed
generally supposed of the rich man, that he was immoderate in his
indulgence, and that he had treated Lazarus unkindly. [972] But the
latter is nowhere intimated; for the picture of the beggar lying at the
door of the rich man, is not intended in the light of a reproach to the
latter, because he might easily have tendered his aid, and yet
neglected to do so; it is designed to exhibit the contrast, not only
between the earthly condition of the two parties, but between their
proximity in this life, and their wide separation in another. So the
other particular, that the beggar was eager for the crumbs that fell
from the rich man’s table, does not imply that the rich man denied him
this pittance, or that he ought to have given him more than the mere
crumbs; it denotes the deep degradation of the earthly lot of Lazarus
compared with that of the rich man, in opposition to their reversed
position after death, when the rich man is fain to entreat for a drop
of water from the hand of Lazarus. On the supposition that the rich man
had been wanting in compassion towards Lazarus, the Abraham of the
parable could only reply in the following manner: “Thou hadst once easy
access to Lazarus, and yet thou didst not relieve him; how then canst
thou expect him to traverse a long distance to give thee alleviation?”
The sumptuous life of the rich man, likewise, is only depicted as a
contrast to the misery of the beggar; for if he had been supposed
guilty of excess, Abraham must have reminded him that he had taken too
much of the good things of this life, not merely that he had received
his share of them. Equally groundless is it, on the other hand, to
suppose high moral excellencies in Lazarus, since there is no
intimation of such in the description of him, which merely regards his
outward condition,—neither are such ascribed to him by Abraham; his
sole merit is, the having received evil in this life. Thus, in this
parable the measure of future recompense is not the amount of good
done, or wickedness perpetrated, but of evil endured, and fortune
enjoyed, [973] and the aptest motto for this discourse is to be found
in the Sermon on the Mount, according to Luke’s edition: Blessed be ye
poor, for yours is the kingdom of God! Woe to you that are rich! for ye
have received your consolation; a passage concerning which we have
already remarked, that it accords fully with the Ebionite view of the
world. A similar estimation of external poverty is ascribed to Jesus by
the other synoptists, in the narrative of the rich young man, and in
the aphorisms on the camel and the needle’s eye (Matt. xix. 16 ff.;
Mark x. 17 ff.; comp. Luke xviii. 18 ff.). Whether this estimation
belong to Jesus himself, or only to the synoptical tradition concerning
him, it was probably generated by the notions of the Essenes. [974] We
have hitherto considered the contents of the parable down to v. 27:
from whence to the conclusion the subject is, the writings of the Old
Testament as the adequate and only means of grace.

In conclusion, we turn to a group of parables, among which some, as
relating to the death and return of Christ, ought, according to our
plan, to be excepted from the present review; but so far as they are
connected with the rest, it is necessary to include them. They are the
three parables of the rebellious husbandmen in the vineyard (Matt. xxi.
33 ff. parall.), of the talents or minæ (Matt. xxv. 14 ff.; Luke xix.
12 ff.), and the marriage feast (Matt. xxii. 2ff.; Luke xiv. 16 ff.).
Of these the parable of the husbandmen in all the accounts, that of the
talents in Matthew, and that of the marriage feast in Luke, are simple
parables, unattended with difficulty. Not so the parable of the minæ in
Luke, and of the marriage feast in Matthew. That the former is
fundamentally the same with that of the talents in Matthew, is
undeniable, notwithstanding the many divergencies. In both are found
the journey of a master; the assembling of the servants to entrust them
with a capital, to be put into circulation; after the return of the
master, a reckoning in which three servants are signalized, two of them
as active, the third as inactive, whence the latter is punished, and
the former rewarded; and in the annunciation of this issue the words of
the master are nearly identical in the two statements. The principal
divergency is, that besides the relation between the master who
journeys into a far country and his servants, in Luke there is a second
relation between the former and certain rebellious citizens; and
accordingly, while in Matthew the master is simply designated ἄνθρωπος,
a man, in Luke he is styled ἅνθρωπος εὐγενὴς, a nobleman, and a kingdom
is assigned to him, the object of his journey being to receive for
himself a kingdom: an object of which there is no mention in Matthew.
The subjects of this personage, it is further said, hated him, and
after his departure renounced their allegiance. Hence at the return of
the lord, the rebellious citizens, as well as the slothful servant, are
punished; but in their case the retribution is that of death: the
faithful servants, on the other hand, are not only rewarded generally
by an entrance into the joy of their Lord, but royally, by the gift of
a number of cities. There are other divergencies of less moment between
Luke and Matthew; such as, that the number of servants is undetermined
by the one, and limited to ten by the other; that in Matthew they
receive talents, in Luke minæ; in the one unequal sums, in the other
equal; in the one, they obtain unequal profits from unequal sums by an
equal expenditure of effort, and are therefore equally rewarded; in the
other, they obtain unequal profits from equal sums by an unequal
expenditure of effort, and are therefore unequally rewarded.

Supposing this parable to have proceeded from the lips of Jesus on two
separate occasions, and that Matthew and Luke are right in their
respective arrangements, he must have delivered it first in the more
complex form given by Luke, and then in the simple one given by
Matthew; [975] since the former places it before, the latter after the
entrance into Jerusalem. But this would be contrary to all analogy. The
first presentation of an idea is, according to the laws of thought, the
most simple; with the second new relations may be perceived, the
subject may be viewed under various aspects, and brought into manifold
combinations. There is, therefore, a foundation for Schleiermacher’s
opinion, that contrary to the arrangement in the Gospels, Jesus first
delivered the parable in the more simple form, and amplified it on a
subsequent occasion. [976] But for our particular case this order is
not less inconceivable than the other. The author of a composition such
as a parable, especially when it exists only in his mind and on his
lips, and is not yet fixed in writing, remains the perfect master of
his materials even on their second and more elaborate presentation; the
form which he had previously given to them is not rigid and inflexible,
but pliant, so that he can adapt the original thoughts and images to
the additional ones, and thus give unity to his production. Hence, had
he who gave the above parable the form which it has in Luke, been its
real author, he would, after having transformed the master into a king,
and inserted the particulars respecting the rebellious citizens, have
intrusted arms to the servants instead of money (comp. Luke xxii. 36),
[977] and would have made them show their fidelity rather by conflict
with the rebels, than by increasing their capital; or in general would
have introduced some relation between the two classes of persons in the
parable, the servants and the citizens; instead of which, they are
totally unconnected throughout, and form two ill-cemented divisions.
[978] This shows very decisively that the parable was not enriched with
these additional particulars by the imagination of its author, but that
it was thus amplified by another in the process of transmission. This
cannot have been effected in a legendary manner, by the gradual filling
up of the original sketch, or the development of the primitive germ;
for the idea of rebellious citizens could never be evolved from that of
servants and talents, but must have been added from without, and
therefore have previously existed as part of an independent whole. This
amounts to the position that we have here an example of two originally
distinct parables, the one treating of servants and talents, the other
of rebellious citizens, flowing together in consequence of their
mutually possessing the images of a ruler’s departure and return. [979]
The proof of our proposition must depend on our being able easily to
disentangle the two parables; and this we can effect in the most
satisfactory manner, for by extracting v. 12, 14, 15, and 27, and
slightly modifying them, we get in a rather curtailed but consistent
form, the parable of the rebellious citizens, and we then recognise the
similarity of its tendency with that of the rebellious husbandmen in
the vineyard. [980]

A similar relation subsists between the form in which the parable of
the marriage feast is given by Luke (xiv. 16 ff.), and that in which it
is given by Matthew (xxii. 2 ff.); only that in this case Luke, as in
the other, Matthew, has the merit of having preserved the simple
original version. On both sides, the particulars of the feast, the
invitation, its rejection, and the consequent bidding of other guests,
testify the identity of the two parables; but, on the other hand, the
host who in Luke is merely a certain man, ἄνθρωπος τις, is in Matthew a
king, βασιλεὺς, whose feast is occasioned by the marriage of his son;
the invited guests, who in Luke excuse themselves on various pleas to
the messenger only once sent out to them, in Matthew refuse to come on
the first invitation, and on the second more urgent one some go to
their occupations, while others maltreat and kill the servants of the
king, who immediately sends forth his armies to destroy those
murderers, and burn up their city. Nothing of this is to be found in
Luke; according to him, the host merely causes the poor and afflicted
to be assembled in place of the guests first invited, a particular
which Matthew also appends to his fore-mentioned incidents. Luke closes
the parable with the declaration of the host, that none of the first
bidden guests shall partake of his supper; but Matthew proceeds to
narrate how, when the house was full, and the king had assembled his
guests, one was discovered to be without a wedding garment, and was
forthwith carried away into outer darkness.

The maltreatment and murder of the king’s messengers are features in
the narrative of Matthew which at once strike us as inconsistent—as a
departure from the original design. Disregard of an invitation is
sufficiently demonstrated by the rejection of it on empty pretexts such
as Luke mentions; the maltreatment and even the murder of those who
deliver the invitation, is an exaggeration which it is less easy to
attribute to Jesus than to the Evangelist. The latter had immediately
before communicated the parable of the rebellious husbandmen; hence
there hovered in his recollection the manner in which they were said to
have used the messengers of their lord, beating one, killing and
stoning others (λαβόντες τοὺς δούλους αὐτοῦ ὃν μὲν ἔδειραν, ὃν δὲ
ἀπέκτειναν, ὃν δὲ ἐλιθοβόλησαν), and he was thus led to incorporate
similar particulars into the present parable (κρατήσαντες τοὺς δούλους
αὐτοῦ ὕβρισαν καὶ ἀπέκτειναν), overlooking the circumstance that what
might have been perpetrated with sufficient motive against servants who
appeared with demands and authority to enforce them, had in the latter
case no motive whatever. That hereupon, the king, not satisfied with
excluding them from the feast, sends out his armies to destroy them and
burn up their city, necessarily follows from the preceding incidents,
but appears, like them, to be the echo of a parable which presented the
relation between the master and the dependents, not in the milder form
of a rejected invitation, but in the more severe one of an
insurrection; as in the parable of the husbandmen in the vineyard, and
that of the rebellious citizens, which we have above separated from the
parable of the minæ. Yet more decidedly does the drift of the last
particular in Matthew’s parable, that of the wedding garment, betray
that it was not originally associated with the rest. For if the king
had commanded that all, both bad and good, who were to be found in the
highways, should be bidden to the feast, he could not wonder that they
had not all wedding attire. To assume that those thus suddenly summoned
went home to wash, and adjust their dress, is an arbitrary emendation
of the text. [981] Little preferable is the supposition that, according
to oriental manners, the king had ordered a caftan to be presented to
each guest, and might therefore justly reproach the meanest for not
availing himself of the gift; [982] for it is not to be proved that
such a custom existed at the period, [983] and it is not admissible to
presuppose it merely because the anger of the king appears otherwise
unfounded. But the addition in question is not only out of harmony with
the imagery, but with the tendency of this parable. For while hitherto
its aim had been to exhibit the national contrast between the
perversity of the Jews, and the willingness of the Gentiles: it all at
once passes to the moral one, to distinguish between the worthy and the
unworthy. That after the Jews had contemned the invitation to partake
of the kingdom of God, the heathens would be called into it, is one
complete idea, with which Luke very properly concludes his parable;
that he who does not prove himself worthy of the vocation by a
corresponding disposition, will be again cast out of the kingdom, is
another idea, which appears to demand a separate parable for its
exhibition. Here again it may be conjectured that the conclusion of
Matthew’s parable is the fragment of another, which, from its also
referring to a feast, might in tradition, or in the memory of an
individual, be easily mingled with the former, preserved in its purity
by Luke. [984] This other parable must have simply set forth, that a
king had invited various guests to a wedding feast, with the tacit
condition that they should provide themselves with a suitable dress,
and that he delivered an individual who had neglected this observance
to his merited punishment. Supposing our conjectures correct, we have
here a still more compound parable than in the former case: a parable
in which, 1stly, the narrative of the ungrateful invited parties (Luke
xiv.) forms the main tissue, but so that, 2ndly, a thread from the
parable of the rebellious husbandmen is interwoven; while, 3rdly, a
conclusion is stitched on, gathered apparently from an unknown parable
on the wedding garment.

This analysis gives us an insight into the procedure of evangelical
tradition with its materials, which must be pregnant with results.

§ 79.

MISCELLANEOUS INSTRUCTIONS AND CONTROVERSIES OF JESUS.

As the discourses in Matthew xv. 1–20 have been already considered, we
must pass on to xviii. 1 ff., Mark ix. 33 ff., Luke ix. 46 ff., where
various discourses are connected with the exhibition of a little child,
occasioned by a contention for pre-eminence among the disciples. The
admonition to become as a little child, and to humble one’s self as a
little child, in Matthew, forms a perfectly suitable comment on the
symbolical reproof (v. 3, 4,); but the connexion between this and the
following declaration of Jesus, that whosoever receives one such little
child in his name, receives him, is not so obvious. For the child was
set up to teach the disciples in what they were to imitate it, not how
they were to behave towards it, and how Jesus could all at once lose
sight of his original object, it is difficult to conceive. But yet more
glaring is the irrelevance of the declaration in Mark and Luke; for
they make it follow immediately on the exhibition of the child, so
that, according to this, Jesus must, in the very act, have forgotten
its object, namely, to present the child to his ambitious disciples as
worthy of imitation, not as in want of reception. [985] Jesus was
accustomed to say of his disciples, that whosoever received them,
received him, and in him, the Father who had sent him (Matt. x. 40 ff.;
Luke x. 16; John xiii. 20). Of children he elsewhere says merely, that
whosoever does not receive the kingdom of heaven as a little child
cannot enter therein (Mark x. 15; Luke xviii. 17). This declaration
would be perfectly adapted to the occasion in question, and we may
almost venture to conjecture that ὃς ἐὰν μὴ δέξηται τὴν βασιλείαν τῶν
οὐρανῶν ὡς παιδίον, was the original passage, and that the actual one
is the result of its confusion with Matthew x. 40, ὃς ἐὰν δέξηται
παιδίον τοιοῦτον ἓν ἐπὶ τῷ ὀνόματί μου.

Closely connected by the word ἀποκριθεὶς, answering, with the sentences
just considered, Mark (ix. 38 f.) and Luke (ix. 49 f.) introduce the
information which John is said to give to Jesus, that the disciples
having seen one casting out devils in the name of Jesus, without
attaching himself to their society, had forbidden him. Schleiermacher
explains the connexion thus: because Jesus had commanded the reception
of children in his name, John was led to the confession, that he and
his associates had hitherto been so far from regarding the performance
of an act in the name of Jesus as the point of chief importance, that
they had interdicted the use of his name to one who followed not with
them. [986] Allowing this explanation to be correct, we must believe
that John, arrested by the phrase, in my name (which yet is not
prominent in the declaration of Jesus, and which must have been thrown
still further into the background by the sight of the child set up in
the midst), drew from it the general inference, that in all actions the
essential point is to perform them in the name of Jesus; and with equal
rapidity, leaped to the remote reflection, that the conduct of the
disciples towards the exorcist was in contradiction with this rule. But
all this supposes the facility of combination which belongs to a
Schleiermacher, not the dulness which still characterized the
disciples. Nevertheless, the above critic has unquestionably opened on
the true vein of connexion between the preceding apothegm and this
ἀπόκρισις of John; he has only failed to perceive that this connexion
is not intrinsic and original, but extrinsic and secondary. It was
quite beyond the reach of the disciples to apply the words in my name,
by a train of deductions, to an obliquely connected case in their own
experience; but, according to our previous observations, nothing could
be more consistent with the habit of association that characterizes the
writer of the evangelical tradition in the third gospel, whence the
second Evangelist seems to have borrowed, than that he should be
reminded by the striking phrase, in my name, in the preceding discourse
of Jesus, of an anecdote containing the same expression, and should
unite the two for the sake of that point of external similarity alone.
[987]

To the exhortation to receive such little children, Matthew annexes the
warning against offending one of these little ones, σκανδαλίζειν ἕνα
τῶν μικρῶν τούτων, an epithet which, in x. 42, is applied to the
disciples of Jesus, but in this passage, apparently, to children. [988]
Mark (v. 42) has the same continuation, notwithstanding the
interruption above noticed, probably because he forsook Luke (who here
breaks off the discourse, and does not introduce the admonition against
offences until later, xvii. 1 f., and apart from any occasion that
might prompt it), and appealed to Matthew. [989] Then follows in
Matthew (v. 8 f.) and Mark (v. 43 f.) a passage which alone ought to
open the eyes of commentators to the mode in which the synoptists
arrange the sayings of Jesus. To the warning against the offending,
σκανδαλίζειν, of the little ones, and the woe pronounced on those by
whom offences come, τὸ σκάνδαλον ἔρχεται, they annex the apothegm on
the offending, σκανδαλίζειν, of the hand, eye, etc. Jesus could not
proceed thus,—for the injunctions: Mislead not the little ones! and,
Let not your sensuality mislead you! have nothing in common but the
word mislead. It is easy, however, to account for their association by
the writer of the first gospel. [990] The word σκανδαλίζειν recalled to
his mind all the discourses of Jesus containing a similar expression
that had come to his knowledge, and although he had previously
presented the admonitions concerning seduction by the members, in a
better connexion, as part of the Sermon on the Mount, he could not
resist the temptation of reproducing them here, for the sake of this
slight verbal affinity with the foregoing text. But at v. 10 he resumes
the thread which he had dropped at v. 7, and adds a further discourse
on the little ones, μικροὺς. Matthew makes Jesus confirm the value of
the little ones by the declaration, that the Son of man was come to
seek the lost, and by the parable of the lost sheep (v. 11–14). It is
not, however, evident why Jesus should class the μικροὺς with the
ἀπολωλὸς (lost); and both the declaration and the parable seem to be
better placed by Luke, who introduces the former in the narrative of
the calling of Zaccheus (xix. 10), and the latter, in a reply to the
objections of the Pharisees against the amity of Jesus with the
publicans (xv. 3 ff.). Matthew seems to have placed them here, merely
because the discourse on the little ones reminded him of that on the
lost—both exemplifying the mildness and humility of Jesus.

Between the moral of the above parable (v. 14) and the following rules
for the conduct of Christians under injuries (v. 15 ff.), there is
again only a verbal connexion, which may be traced by means of the
words, ἀπόληται, should perish, and ἐκέρδησας, thou hast gained; for
the proposition: God wills not that one of these little ones should
perish, might recall the proposition: We should endeavour to win over
our brother, by showing a readiness to forgive. The direction to bring
the offender before the church, ἐκκλησία, is generally adduced as a
proof that Jesus intended to found a church. But he here speaks of the
ἐκκλησία as an institution already existing: hence we must either refer
the expression to the Jewish synagogue, an interpretation which is
favoured by the analogy of this direction with Jewish precepts; or if,
according to the strict meaning of the word and its connexion, ἐκκλησία
must be understood as the designation of the Christian community, which
did not then exist, it must be admitted that we have here, at least in
the form of expression, an anticipation of a subsequent state of
things. [991] The writer certainly had in view the new church,
eventually to be founded in the name of Jesus, when, in continuation,
he represented the latter as imparting to the body of the disciples the
authority to bind and to loose, previously given to Peter, and thus to
form a messianic religious constitution. The declarations concerning
the success of unanimous prayer, and the presence of Jesus among two or
three gathered together in his name, accord with this prospective idea.
[992]

The next discourse that presents itself (Matt. xix. 3–12, Mark x.
2–12), though belonging, according to the Evangelists, to the last
journey of Jesus, is of the same stamp with the disputations which
they, for the most part, assign to the last residence of Jesus in
Jerusalem. Some Pharisees propose to Jesus the question, at that time
much discussed in the Jewish schools, [993] whether it be lawful for a
man to put away his wife for every cause. To avoid a contradiction
between modern practice and the dictum of Jesus, it has been alleged
that he here censures the species of divorce which was the only one
known at that period, namely, the arbitrary dismissal of a wife; but
not the judicial separation resorted to in the present day. [994] But
this very argument involves the admission, that Jesus denounced all the
forms of divorce known to him; hence the question still remains
whether, if he could have had cognizance of the modern procedure in
dissolving matrimony, he would have held it right to limit his general
censure. Of the succeeding declaration, prompted by a question of the
disciples, [995] namely, that celibacy may be practised for the kingdom
of heaven’s sake, Jesus himself says, that it cannot be understood by
all, but only by those to whom it is given (v. 11). That the doctrine
of Jesus may not run counter to modern opinion, it has been eagerly
suggested, that his panegyric on celibacy had relation solely to the
circumstances of the coming time, or to the nature of the apostolic
mission, which would be impeded by family ties. [996] But there is even
less intimation of this special bearing in the text, than in the
analogous passage 1 Cor. vii. 25 ff., [997] and, adhering to a simple
interpretation, it must be granted that we have here one of the
instances in which ascetic principles, such as were then prevalent,
especially among the Essenes, [998] manifest themselves in the teaching
of Jesus, as represented in the synoptical gospels.

The controversial discourses which Matthew, almost throughout in
agreement with the other synoptists, places after the entrance of Jesus
into Jerusalem (xxi. 23–27; xxii. 15–46), [999] are certainly
pre-eminently genuine fragments, having precisely the spirit and tone
of the rabbinical dialectics in the time of Jesus. The third and fifth
among them are particularly worthy of note, because they exhibit Jesus
as an interpreter of Scripture. With respect to the former, wherein
Jesus endeavours to convince the Sadducees that there will be a
resurrection of the dead, from the Mosaic designation of God as the God
of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, maintaining that he is not the God
of the dead, but of the living (Matt. xxii. 31–33 parall.): Paulus
admits that Jesus here argues subtilly, while he contends that the
conclusion is really involved in the premises. But in the expression
‏אֱלהֵי־אַבְרָהָם‎ the God of Abraham, etc., which had become a mere formula,
nothing more is implied than that Jehovah, as he had been the
protecting Deity of these men, would for ever continue such to their
posterity. An individual relation subsisting between Jehovah and the
patriarchs after their death, is nowhere else alluded to in the Old
Testament, and could only be discovered in the above form by rabbinical
interpreters, at a time when it was thought desirable, at any cost, to
show that the idea of immortality, which had become prevalent, was
contained in the law; where, however, it is not to be met with by
unprejudiced eyes. We find the relation of God to Abraham, Isaac, and
Jacob, adduced as a guarantee of immortality elsewhere in rabbinical
argumentations, all of which could hardly have been modelled on this
one of Jesus. [1000] If we look into the most recent commentaries, we
nowhere find a candid confession as to the real character of the
argumentation in question. Olshausen has wonders to tell of the deep
truth contained in it, and thinks that he can deduce from it, in the
shortest way, the authenticity and divinity of the Pentateuch. Paulus
sees the validity of the proof between the lines of the text; Fritzsche
is silent. Wherefore these evasions? Why is the praise of having seen
clearly, and spoken openly, in this matter, abandoned to the
Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist? [1001] What spectres and double-sighted
beings, must Moses and Jesus have been, if they mixed with their
cotemporaries without any real participation in their opinions and
weaknesses, their joys and griefs: if, mentally dwelling apart from
their age and nation, they conformed to these relations only externally
and by accommodation, while, internally and according to their nature,
they stood among the foremost ranks of the enlightened in modern times!
Far more noble were these men, nay, they would then only engage our
sympathy and reverence, if, in a genuinely human manner, struggling
with the limitations and prejudices of their age, they succumbed to
them in a hundred secondary matters, and only attained perfect freedom
in relation to the one point by which each was destined to contribute
to the advancement of mankind.

A controversial question concerning the Messiah is proposed (v. 41–46)
to the Pharisees by Jesus, namely, How can the same personage be at
once the Lord and the son of David? Paulus maintains that this is a
model of interpretation in conformity with the text; [1002] an
assertion which is no good augury that his own possesses that
qualification. According to him, Jesus, in asking how David could call
the Messiah, Lord, when in the general opinion he was his son, intended
to apprise the Pharisees, that in this Psalm it is not David who is
speaking of the Messiah, but another poet who is speaking of David as
his lord, so that to suppose this warlike psalm a messianic one, is a
mistake. Why, asks Paulus, should not Jesus have found out this
interpretation, since it is the true one? But this is the grand error
of his entire scheme of interpretation—to suppose that what is truth in
itself, or more correctly, for us, must, even to the minutest details,
have been truth for Jesus and the apostles. The majority of ancient
Jewish interpreters apply this psalm to the Messiah; [1003] the
apostles use it as a prophecy concerning Christ (Acts ii. 34 f.; 1 Cor.
xv. 25); Jesus himself, according to Matthew and Mark, adds ἐν πνεύματι
to Δαβὶδ καλεῖ αὐτὸν Κύριον, thus plainly giving his approval to the
notion that it is David who there speaks, and that the Messiah is his
subject: how then can it be thought that he held the contrary opinion?
It is far more probable, as Olshausen has well shown, that Jesus
believed the psalm to be a messianic one: while, on the other hand,
Paulus is equally correct in maintaining that it originally referred,
not to the Messiah, but to some Jewish ruler, whether David or another.
Thus we find that Jesus here gives a model of interpretation, in
conformity, not with the text, but with the spirit of his time: a
discovery which, if the above observations be just, ought to excite no
surprise. The solution of the enigma which Jesus here proposes to the
Pharisees, lay without doubt, according to his idea, in the doctrine of
the higher nature of the Messiah; whether he held that, in virtue of
this, he might be styled the Lord of David, while, in virtue of his
human nature, he might also be regarded as his son; or whether he
wished to remove the latter notion as erroneous. [1004] The result,
however, and perhaps also the intention of Jesus with respect to the
Pharisees, was merely to convince them that he was capable of
retaliating on them, in their own way, by embarrassing them with
captious questions, and that with better success than they had obtained
in their attempts to entrap him. Hence the Evangelists place this
passage at the close of the disputations prompted by the Pharisees, and
Matthew adds, Neither durst any man from that day forth ask him any
more questions: a concluding form which is more suitable here than
after the lesson administered to the Sadducees, where it is placed by
Luke (xx. 40), or than after the discussion on the greatest
commandment, where it is introduced by Mark (xii. 34).

Immediately before this question of Jesus, the first two Evangelists
narrate a conversation with a lawyer, νομικὸς, or scribe, γραμματεὺς,
concerning the greatest commandment. (Matt. xxii. 34 ff.; Mark xii. 28
ff.) Matthew annexes this conversation to the dispute with the
Sadducees, as if the Pharisees wished, by their question as to the
greatest commandment, to avenge the defeat of the Sadducees. It is well
known, however, that these sects were not thus friendly; on the
contrary, we read in the Acts (xxiii. 7), that the Pharisees were
inclined to go over to the side of one whom they had previously
persecuted, solely because he had had the address to take the position
of an opponent towards the Sadducees. We may here quote
Schneckenburger’s observation, [1005] that Matthew not seldom (iii. 7,
xvi. 1) places the Pharisees and Sadducees side by side in a way that
represents, not their real hostility, but their association in the
memory of tradition, in which one opposite suggested another. In this
respect, Mark’s mode of annexing this conversation to the foregoing, is
more consistent; but all the synoptists seem to labour under a common
mistake in supposing that these discussions, grouped together in
tradition on account of their analogy, followed each other so closely
in time, that one colloquy elicited another. Luke does not give the
question concerning the greatest commandment in connexion with the
controversies on the resurrection and on the Messiah; but he has a
similar incident earlier, in his narrative of the journey to Jerusalem
(x. 25 ff.). The general opinion is that the first two Evangelists
recount the same occurrence and the third, a distinct one. [1006] It is
true that the narrative of Luke differs from that of Matthew and Mark,
in several not immaterial points. The first difference, which we have
already noticed, relates to chronological position, and this has been
the chief inducement to the supposition of two events. The next
difference lies in the nature of the question, which, in Luke, turns on
the rule of life calculated to insure the inheritance of eternal life,
but, in the other Evangelists, on the greatest commandment. The third
difference is in the subject who pronounces this commandment, the first
two synoptists representing it to be Jesus, the third, the lawyer.
Lastly, there is a difference as to the issue, the lawyer in Luke
putting a second, self-vindicatory, question, which calls forth the
parable of the good Samaritan; while in the two other Evangelists, he
retires either satisfied, or silenced by the answer to the first.
Meanwhile, even between the narrative of Matthew and that of Mark,
there are important divergencies. The principal relates to the
character of the querist, who in Matthew proposes his question with a
view to tempt Jesus (πειράζων); in Mark, with good intentions, because
he had perceived that Jesus had answered the Sadducees well. Paulus,
indeed, although he elsewhere (Luke x. 25) considers the act of
tempting (ἐκπειράζων) as the putting a person to the proof to subserve
interested views, pronounces that the word πειράζων in this instance
can only be intended in a good sense. But the sole ground for this
interpretation lies, not in Matthew, but in Mark, and in the unfounded
supposition that the two writers could not have a different idea of the
character and intention of the inquiring doctor of the law. Fritzsche
has correctly pointed out the difficulty of conciliating Matthew and
Mark as lying, partly in the meaning of the word πειράζων, and partly
in the context, it being inadmissible to suppose one among a series of
malevolent questions, friendly, without any intimation of the
distinction on the part of the writer. With this important diversity is
connected the minor one, that while in Matthew, the scribe, after Jesus
has recited the two commandments, is silent, apparently from shame,
which is no sign of a friendly disposition on his part towards Jesus;
in Mark, he not only bestows on Jesus the approving expression, Well,
Master, thou hast said the truth, but enlarges on his doctrine so as to
draw from Jesus the declaration that he has answered discreetly, and
is, not far from the kingdom of God. It may be also noticed that while
in Matthew Jesus simply repeats the commandment of love, in Mark he
prefaces it by the words, Hear, O Israel, the Lord thy God is one Lord.
Thus, if it be held that the differences between the narrative of Luke,
and that of the two other Evangelists, entail a necessity for supposing
that they are founded on two separate events; the no slighter
differences between Mark and Matthew must in all consistency be made a
reason for supposing a third. But it is so difficult to credit the
reality of three occurrences essentially alike, that the other
alternative, of reducing them to one, must, prejudice apart, be always
preferred. The narratives of Matthew and Mark are the most easily
identified; but there are not wanting points of contact between Matthew
and Luke, for in both the lawyer νομικὸς appears as a tempter
(πειράζων), and is not impressed in favour of Jesus by his answer; nor
even between Luke and Mark, for these agree in appending explanatory
remarks to the greatest commandment, as well as in the insertion of
forms of assent, such as, Thou hast answered right, Thou hast said the
truth. Hence it is evident that to fuse only two of their narratives is
a half measure, and that we must either regard all three as
independent, or all three as identical: whence again we may observe the
freedom which was used by the early Christian legend, in giving various
forms to a single fact or idea—the fundamental fact in the present case
being, that, out of the whole Mosaic code, Jesus had selected the two
commandments concerning the love of God and our neighbour as the most
excellent. [1007]

We come now to the great anti-pharisaic discourse, which Matthew gives
(xxiii.) as a sort of pitched battle after the skirmishing of the
preceding disputations. Mark (xii. 38 ff.) and Luke (xx. 45 ff.) have
also a discourse of Jesus against the scribes, γραμματεῖς, but
extending no farther than a few verses. It is however highly probable,
as our modern critics allow, [1008] that Jesus should launch out into
fuller invectives against that body of men under the circumstances in
which Matthew places that discourse, and it is almost certain that such
sharp enunciations must have preceded the catastrophe; so that it is
not admissible to control the account of the first Evangelist by the
meagre one of the two other synoptists, [1009] especially as the former
is distinguished by connectedness and unity. It is true that much of
what Matthew here presents as a continuous address, is assigned by Luke
to various scenes and occasions, and it would hence follow that the
former has, in this case again, blended the original elements of the
discourse with kindred matter, belonging to the discourses of various
periods, [1010] if it could be shown that the arrangement of Luke is
the correct one: a position which must therefore be examined. Those
parts of the anti-pharisaic harangue which Luke has in common with
Matthew, are, excepting the couple of verses which he places in the
same connexion as Matthew, introduced by him as concomitant with two
entertainments to which he represents Jesus as being invited by
Pharisees (xi. 37 ff.; xiv. 1 ff.)—a politeness on their part which
appears in no other gospel. The expositors of the present day, almost
with one voice, concur in admiring the naturalness and faithfulness
with which Luke has preserved to us the original occasions of these
discourses. [1011] It is certainly natural enough that, in the second
entertainment, Jesus, observing the efforts of the guests to obtain the
highest places for themselves, should take occasion to admonish them
against assuming the precedence at feasts, even on the low ground of
prudential considerations; and this admonition appears in a curtailed
form, and without any special cause in the final anti-pharisaic
discourse in Matthew, Mark, and even in Luke again (xx. 46). But it is
otherwise with the discourse which Luke attaches to the earlier
entertainment in the Pharisee’s house. In the very commencement of this
repast, Jesus not only speaks of the ravening, ἁρπαγή, and wickedness,
πονηρία, with which the Pharisees fill the cup and platter, and honours
them with the title of fools, ἄφρονες, but breaks forth into a
denunciation of woe, οὐαὶ, against them and the scribes and doctors of
the law, threatening them with retribution for all the blood that had
been shed by their fathers, whose deeds they approved. We grant that
Attic urbanity is not to be expected in a Jewish teacher, but even
according to the oriental standard, such invectives uttered at table
against the host and his guests, would be the grossest dereliction of
what is due to hospitality. This was obvious to Schleiermacher’s acute
perception; and he therefore supposes that the meal passed off
amicably, and that it was not until its close, when Jesus was again out
of the house, that the host expressed his surprise at the neglect of
the usual ablutions by Jesus and his disciples, and that Jesus answered
with so much asperity. [1012] But to assume that the writer has not
described the meal itself and the incidents that accompanied it, and
that he has noticed it merely for the sake of its connexion with the
subsequent discourse, is an arbitrary mode of overcoming the
difficulty. For the text runs thus: And he went in and sat down to
meat. And when the Pharisee saw it, he marvelled that he had not first
washed before dinner. And the Lord said unto him, εἰσελθὼν δὲ ἀνέπεσεν·
ὁ δὲ Φαρισαῖος ἰδὼν ἐθαύμασεν, ὁτι οὐ πρῶτον ἐβαπτίσθη—· εἶπε δὲ ὁ
Κύριος πρὸς αὐτὸν. It is manifestly impossible to thrust in between
these sentences the duration of the meal, and it must have been the
intention of the writer to attach he marvelled ἐθαύμασεν to he sat down
to meat ἀνέπεσεν, and he said εἶπεν to he marvelled ἐθαύμασεν. But if
this could not really have been the case, unless Jesus violated in the
grossest manner the simplest dictates of civility, there is an end to
the vaunted accuracy of Luke in his allocation of this discourse: and
we have only to inquire how he could be led to give it so false a
position. This is to be discovered by comparing the manner in which the
two other synoptists mention the offence of the Pharisees, at the
omission of the ablutions before meals by Jesus and his disciples: a
circumstance to which they annex discourses different from those given
by Luke. In Matthew (xv. 1 ff), scribes and Pharisees from Jerusalem
ask Jesus why his disciples do not observe the custom of washing before
meat? It is thus implied that they knew of this omission, as may easily
be supposed, by report. In Mark (vii. 1 ff.), they look on (ἰδόντες,)
while some disciples of Jesus eat with unwashen hands, and call them to
account for this irregularity. Lastly, in Luke, Jesus himself dines
with a Pharisee, and on this occasion it is observed that he neglects
the usual washings. This is an evident climax: hearing, witnessing,
taking food together. Was it formed, in the descending gradation, from
Luke to Matthew, or, in the ascending one, from Matthew to Luke? From
the point of view adopted by the recent critics of the first gospel,
the former mode will be held the most probable, namely, that the memory
of the original scene, the repast in the Pharisee’s house, was lost in
the process of tradition, and is therefore wanting in the first gospel.
But, apart from the difficulty of conceiving that this discourse was
uttered under the circumstances with which it is invested by Luke, it
is by no means in accordance with the course of tradition, when once in
possession of so dramatic a particular as a feast, to let it fall
again, but rather to supply it, if lacking. The general tendency of the
legend is to transform the abstract into the concrete, the mediate into
the immediate, hearsay into vision, the spectator into the
participator; and as the offence taken against Jesus by the Pharisees
referred, among other things, to the usages of the table, nothing was
more natural than for legend to associate the origin of the offence
with a particular place and occasion, and for this purpose to imagine
invitations given to Jesus by Pharisees—invitations which would be
historically suspicious, if for no other reason than that Luke alone
knows anything of them. Here, then, we again find Luke in his favourite
employment of furnishing a frame to the discourses of Jesus which
tradition had delivered to him; a procedure much farther removed from
historic faithfulness, than the effort of Matthew to give unity to
discourses gathered from different periods, without adding matter of
his own. The formation of the climax above displayed, can only be
conceived, in accordance with the general relation between the
synoptists, in the following manner: Mark, who in this instance
evidently had Matthew before him, enriched his account with the
dramatic expression ἰδόντες; while Luke, independent of both, has added
a repast, δεῖπνον, whether presented to him by a more developed
tradition, or invented by his own more fertile imagination. Together
with this unhistorical position, the proportions themselves seem to be
disfigured in Luke (xi. 39–41, 49), and the observation of the lawyer,
Master, thus saying thou reproachest us also (xi. 45), too much
resembles an artificial transition from the philippic against the
Pharisees, to that against the doctors of the law. [1013]

Another passage in this discourse has been the subject of much
discussion. It is that (v. 35) in which Jesus threatens his
cotemporaries, that all the innocent blood shed from that of Abel to
that of Zacharias, the son of Barachias, slain in the temple, will be
required of their generation. The Zacharias of whom such an end is
narrated 2 Chron. xxiv. 20 ff. was a son, not of Barachias, but of
Jehoiada. On the other hand, there was a Zacharias, the son of Baruch,
who came to a similar end in the Jewish war. [1014] Moreover, it
appears unlikely that Jesus would refer to a murder which took place
850 B.C. as the last. Hence it was at first supposed that we have in v.
35 a prophecy, and afterwards, a confusion of the earlier with the
later event; and the latter notion has been used as an accessory proof
that the first gospel is a posterior compilation. [1015] It is,
however, equally probable, that the Zacharias, son of Jehoiada, whose
death is narrated in the Chronicles, has been confounded with the
prophet Zechariah, who was a son of Barachias (Zech. i. 1; LXX.;
Baruch, in Josephus, is not the same name); [1016] especially as a
Targum, evidently in consequence of a like confusion with the prophet
who was a grandson of Iddo, calls the murdered Zechariah a son of Iddo.
[1017] The murder of a prophet, mentioned by Jeremiah (xxvi. 23), was
doubtless subsequent to that of Zechariah, but in the Jewish order of
the canonical books, Jeremiah precedes the Chronicles; and to oppose a
murder revealed in the first canonical book, to one recorded in the
last, was entirely in the style of Jewish parlance. [1018]

After having considered all the discourses of Jesus given by Matthew,
and compared them with their parallels, with the exception of those
which had come before us in previous discussions, or which have yet to
come before us in our examination of single incidents in the public
ministry, or of the history of the passion: it might appear requisite
to the completeness of our criticism, that we should also give a
separate investigation to the connexion in which the two other
synoptists give the discourses of Jesus, and from this point review the
parallels in Matthew. But we have already cast a comparative glance
over the most remarkable discourses in Luke and Mark, and gone through
the parables which are peculiar to each; and as to the remainder of
what they offer in the form of discourses, it will either come under
our future consideration, or if not, the point of view from which it is
to be criticised, has been sufficiently indicated in the foregoing
investigations.

CHAPTER VII.

DISCOURSES OF JESUS IN THE FOURTH GOSPEL.

§ 80.

CONVERSATION OF JESUS WITH NICODEMUS.

The first considerable specimen which the fourth gospel gives of the
teaching of Jesus, is his conversation with Nicodemus (iii. 1–21). In
the previous chapter (23–25) it is narrated, that during the first
passover attended by Jesus after his entrance on his public ministry,
he had won many to faith in him by the miracles, σημεῖα, which he
performed, but that he did not commit himself to them because he saw
through them: he was aware, that is, of the uncertainty and impurity of
their faith. Then follows in our present chapter, as an example, not
only of the adherents whom Jesus had found even thus early, but also of
the wariness with which he tested and received them, a more detailed
account how Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews and a Pharisee, applied to
him, and how he was treated by Jesus.

It is through the Gospel of John alone that we learn anything of this
Nicodemus, who in vii. 50 f. appears as the advocate of Jesus, so far
as to protest against his being condemned without a hearing, and in
xix. 39 as the partaker with Joseph of Arimathea of the care of
interring Jesus. Modern criticism, with reason, considers it surprising
that Matthew (with the other synoptists) does not even mention the name
of this remarkable adherent of Jesus, and that we have to gather all
our knowledge of him from the fourth gospel; since the peculiar
relation in which Nicodemus stood to Jesus, and his participation in
the care of his interment, must have been as well known to Matthew as
to John. This difficulty has been numbered among the arguments which
are thought to prove that the first gospel was not written by the
Apostle Matthew, but was the product of a tradition considerably more
remote from the time and locality of Jesus. [1019] But the fact is that
the common fund of tradition on which all the synoptists drew had
preserved no notice of this Nicodemus. With touching piety the
Christian legend has recorded in the tablets of her memory, the names
of all the others who helped to render the last honours to their
murdered master—of Joseph of Arimathea and the two Marys (Matt. xxvii.
57–61 parall.); why then was Nicodemus the only neglected one—he who
was especially distinguished among those who tended the remains of
Jesus, by his nocturnal interview with the teacher sent from God, and
by his advocacy of him among the chief priests and Pharisees? It is so
difficult to conceive that the name of this man, if he had really
assumed such a position, would have vanished from the popular
evangelical tradition without leaving a single trace, that one is
induced to inquire whether the contrary supposition be not more capable
of explanation: namely, that such a relation between Nicodemus and
Jesus might have been fabricated by tradition, and adopted by the
author of the fourth gospel without having really subsisted.

John xii. 42, it is expressly said that many among the chief rulers
believed on Jesus, but concealed their faith from dread of
excommunication by the Pharisees, because they loved the praise of men
more than the praise of God. [1020] That towards the end of his career
many people of rank believed in Jesus, even in secret only, is not very
probable, since no indication of it appears in the Acts of the
Apostles; for that the advice of Gamaliel (Acts v. 34 ff.) did not
originate in a positively favourable disposition towards the cause of
Jesus, seems to be sufficiently demonstrated by the spirit of his
disciple Saul. Moreover the synoptists make Jesus declare in plain
terms that the secret of his Messiahship had been revealed only to
babes, and hidden from the wise and prudent (Matt. xi. 25; Luke x. 21),
and Joseph of Arimathea is the only individual of the ruling class whom
they mention as an adherent of Jesus. How, then, if Jesus did not
really attach to himself any from the upper ranks, came the case to be
represented differently at a later period? In John vii. 48 f. we read
that the Pharisees sought to disparage Jesus by the remark that none of
the rulers or of the Pharisees, but only the ignorant populace,
believed on him; and even later adversaries of Christianity, for
example, Celsus, laid great stress on the circumstance that Jesus had
had as his disciples ἐπιῤῥήτους ἀνθρώπους, τελώνας καὶ ναύτας τοὺς
πονηροτάτους. [1021] This reproach was a thorn in the side of the early
church, and though as long as her members were drawn only from the
people, she might reflect with satisfaction on the declarations of
Jesus, in which he had pronounced the poor, πτωχοὺς, and simple,
νηπίους, blessed: yet so soon as she was joined by men of rank and
education, these would lean to the idea that converts like themselves
had not been wanting to Jesus during his life. But, it would be
objected, nothing had been hitherto known of such converts. Naturally
enough, it might be answered; since fear of their equals would induce
them to conceal their relations with Jesus. Thus a door was opened for
the admission of any number of secret adherents among the higher class
(John xii. 42 f.). But, it would be further urged, how could they have
intercourse with Jesus unobserved? Under the veil of the night, would
be the answer; and thus the scene was laid for the interviews of such
men with Jesus (xix. 39). This, however, would not suffice; a
representative of this class must actually appear on the scene: Joseph
of Arimathea might have been chosen, his name being still extant in the
synoptical tradition; but the idea of him was too definite, and it was
the interest of the legend to name more than one eminent friend of
Jesus. Hence a new personage was devised, whose Greek name Νικόδημος
seems to point him out significantly as the representative of the
dominant class. [1022] That this development of the legend is confined
to the fourth gospel, is to be explained, partly by the generally
admitted lateness of its origin, and partly on the ground that in the
evidently more cultivated circle in which it arose, the limitation of
the adherents of Jesus to the common people would be more offensive,
than in the circle in which the synoptical tradition was formed. Thus
the reproach which modern criticism has cast on the first gospel, on
the score of its silence respecting Nicodemus, is turned upon the
fourth, on the score of its information on the same subject.

These considerations, however, should not create any prejudice against
the ensuing conversation, which is the proper object of our
investigations. This may still be in the main genuine; Jesus may have
held such a conversation with one of his adherents, and our Evangelist
may have embellished it no further than by making this interlocutor a
man of rank. Neither will we, with the author of the Probabilia, take
umbrage at the opening address of Nicodemus, nor complain, with him,
that there is a want of connexion between that address and the answer
of Jesus. [1023] The requisition of a new birth (γεννηθῆναι ἄνωθεν), as
a condition of entrance into the kingdom of heaven, does not differ
essentially from the summons with which Jesus opens his ministry in the
synoptical gospels, Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.
New birth, or new creation, was a current image among the Jews,
especially as denoting the conversion of an idolater into a worshipper
of Jehovah. It was customary to say of Abraham, that when, according to
the Jewish supposition, he renounced idolatry for the worship of the
true God, he became a new creature (‏בריה חדשה‎). [1024] The proselyte,
too, in allusion to his relinquishing all his previous associations,
was compared to a new-born child. [1025] That such phraseology was
common among the Jews at that period, is shown by the confidence with
which Paul applies, as if it required no explanation, the term new
creation, καινὴ κτίσις, to those truly converted to Christ. Now, if
Jesus required, even from the Jews, as a condition of entrance into the
messianic kingdom, the new birth which they ascribed to their heathen
proselytes, Nicodemus might naturally wonder at the requisition, since
the Israelite thought himself, as such, unconditionally entitled to
that kingdom: and this is the construction which has been put upon his
question v. 4. [1026] But Nicodemus does not ask, How canst thou say
that a Jew, or a child of Abraham, must be born again? His ground of
wonder is that Jesus appears to suppose it possible for a man to be
born again, and that when he is old. It does not, therefore, astonish
him that spiritual new birth should be expected in a Jew, but corporeal
new birth in a man. How an oriental, to whom figurative speech in
general—how a Jew, to whom the image of the new birth in particular
must have been familiar—how especially a master of Israel, in whom the
misconstruction of figurative phrases cannot, as in the apostles (e.g.
Matt. xv. 15 f.; xvi. 7), be ascribed to want of education—could
understand this expression literally, has been matter of extreme
surprise to expositors of all parties, as well as to Jesus (v. 10).
Hence some have supposed that the Pharisee really understood Jesus, and
only intended by his question to test the ability of Jesus to interpret
his figurative expression into a simple proposition: [1027] but Jesus
does not treat him as a hypocrite, as in that case he must have done—he
continues to instruct him, as one really ignorant οὐ γινώσκοντα (v.
10). Others give the question the following turn: This cannot be meant
in a physical sense, how then otherwise? [1028] But the true drift of
the question is rather the contrary: By these words I can only
understand physical new birth, but how is this possible? Our wonder at
the ignorance of the Jewish doctor, therefore, returns upon us; and it
is heightened when, after the copious explanation of Jesus (v. 5–8),
that the new birth which he required was a spiritual birth, γεννηθῆναι
ἐκ τοῦ πνεύματος, Nicodemus has made no advance in comprehension, but
asks with the same obtuseness as before (v. 9), How can these things
be? By this last difficulty Lücke is so straitened, that, contrary to
his ordinary exegetical tact, he refers the continued amazement of
Nicodemus (as other expositors had referred his original question) to
the circumstance that Jesus maintained the necessity of new birth even
for Israelites. But, in that case, Nicodemus would have inquired
concerning the necessity, not the possibility, of that birth; instead
of asking, How can these things be? he would have asked, Why must these
things be? This inconceivable mistake in a Jewish doctor is not then to
be explained away, and our surprise must become strong suspicion so
soon as it can be shown, that legend or the Evangelist had inducements
to represent this individual as more simple than he really was. First,
then, it must occur to us, that in all descriptions and recitals,
contrasts are eagerly exhibited; hence in the representation of a
colloquy in which one party is the teacher, the other the taught, there
is a strong temptation to create a contrast to the wisdom of the former
by exaggerating the simplicity of the latter. Further, we must remember
the satisfaction it must give to a Christian mind of that age, to place
a master of Israel in the position of an unintelligent person, by the
side of the Master of the Christians. Lastly, it is, as we shall
presently see more clearly, the constant method of the fourth
Evangelist in detailing the conversations of Jesus, to form the knot
and the progress of the discussion, by making the interlocutors
understand literally what Jesus intended figuratively.

In reply to the second query of Nicodemus, Jesus takes entirely the
tone of the fourth Evangelist’s prologue (v. 11–13). [1029] The
question hence arises, whether the Evangelist borrowed from Jesus, or
lent to him his own style. A previous investigation has decided in
favour of the latter alternative. [1030] But this inquiry referred
merely to the form of the discourses; in relation to their matter, its
analogy with the ideas of Philo, does not authorize us at once to
conclude that the writer here puts his Alexandrian doctrine of the
Logos into the mouth of Jesus; [1031] because the expressions, We speak
that we do know, etc. ὃ οἴδαμεν λαλοῦμεν κ.τ.λ., and, No man hath
ascended up to heaven, etc. οὐδεὶς ἀναβέβηκεν κ.τ.λ., have an analogy
with Matt. xi. 27; and the idea of the pre-existence of the Messiah
which is here propounded, is, as we have seen, not foreign to the
Apostle Paul.

V. 14 and 15 Jesus proceeds from the more simple things of the earth,
ἐπιγείοις, the communications concerning the new birth, to the more
difficult things of heaven, ἐπουρανίοις, the announcement of the
destination of the Messiah to a vicarious death. The Son of Man, he
says, must be lifted up (ὑψωθῆναι, which, in John’s phraseology,
signifies crucifixion, with an allusion to a glorifying exaltation), in
the same way, and with the same effect, as the brazen serpent Num. xxi.
8, 9. Here many questions press upon us. Is it credible, that Jesus
already, at the very commencement of his public ministry, foresaw his
death, and in the specific form of crucifixion? and that long before he
instructed his disciples on this point, he made a communication on the
subject to a Pharisee? Can it be held consistent with the wisdom of
Jesus as a teacher, that he should impart such knowledge to Nicodemus?
Even Lücke [1032] puts the question why, when Nicodemus had not
understood the more obvious doctrine, Jesus tormented him with the more
recondite, and especially with the secret of the Messiah’s death, which
was then so remote? He answers: it accords perfectly with the wisdom of
Jesus as a teacher, that he should reveal the sufferings appointed for
him by God as early as possible, because no instruction was better
adapted to cast down false worldly hopes. But the more remote the idea
of the Messiah’s death from the conceptions of his cotemporaries, owing
to the worldliness of their expectations, the more impressively and
unequivocally must Jesus express that idea, if he wished to promulgate
it; not in an enigmatical form which he could not be sure that
Nicodemus would understand. Lücke continues: Nicodemus was a man open
to instruction; one of whom good might be expected. But in this very
conversation, his dulness of comprehension in earthly things, ἐπίγεια,
had evinced that he must have still less capacity for heavenly things,
ἐπουράνια; and, according to v. 12, Jesus himself despaired of
enlightening him with respect to them. Lücke, however, observes, that
it was a practice with Jesus to follow up easy doctrine which had not
been comprehended, by difficult doctrine which was of course less
comprehensible; that he purposed thus to give a spur to the minds of
his hearers, and by straining their attention, engage them to reflect.
But the examples which Lücke adduces of such proceeding on the part of
Jesus, are all drawn from the fourth gospel. Now the very point in
question is, whether that gospel correctly represents the teaching of
Jesus; consequently Lücke argues in a circle. We have seen a similar
procedure ascribed to Jesus in his conversation with the woman of
Samaria, and we have already declared our opinion that such an
overburthening of weak faculties with enigma on enigma, does not accord
with the wise rule as to the communication of doctrine, which the same
gospel puts into the mouth of Jesus, xvi. 12. It would not stimulate,
but confuse, the mind of the hearer, who persisted in a misapprehension
of the well-known figure of the new birth, to present to him the novel
comparison of the Messiah and his death, to the brazen serpent and its
effects; a comparison quite incongruous with his Jewish ideas. [1033]
In the first three Gospels Jesus pursues an entirely different course.
In these, where a misconstruction betrays itself on the part of the
disciples, Jesus (except where he breaks off altogether, or where it is
evident that the Evangelist unhistorically associates a number of
metaphorical discourses) applies himself with the assiduity of an
earnest teacher to the thorough explanation of the difficulty, and not
until he has effected this does he proceed, step by step, to convey
further instruction (e.g. Matt. xiii. 10 ff., 36 ff., xv. 16, xvi. 8
ff.). [1034] This is the method of a wise teacher; on the contrary, to
leap from one subject to another, to overburthen and strain the mind of
the hearer, a mode of instruction which the fourth Evangelist
attributes to Jesus, is wholly inconsistent with that character. To
explain this inconsistency, we must suppose that the writer of the
fourth gospel thought to heighten in the most effective manner the
contrast which appears from the first, between the wisdom of the one
party and the incapacity of the other, by representing the teacher as
overwhelming the pupil, who put unintelligent questions on the most
elementary doctrine, with lofty and difficult themes, beneath which his
faculties are laid prostrate.

From v. 16, even those commentators who pretend to some ability in this
department, lose all hope of showing that the remainder of the
discourse may have been spoken by Jesus. Not only does Paulus make this
confession, but even Olshausen, with a concise statement of his
reasons. [1035] At the above verse, any special reference to Nicodemus
vanishes, and there is commenced an entirely general discourse on the
destination of the Son of God, to confer a blessing on the world, and
on the manner in which unbelief forfeits this blessing. Moreover, these
ideas are expressed in a form, which at one moment appears to be a
reminiscence of the Evangelist’s introduction, and at another has a
striking similarity with passages in the first Epistle of John. [1036]
In particular, the expression, the only begotten Son, ὁ μονογενὴς υἱὸς,
which is repeatedly (v. 16 and 18) attributed to Jesus as a designation
of his own person, is nowhere else found in his mouth, even in the
fourth gospel; this circumstance, however, marks it still more
positively as a favourite phrase of the Evangelist (i. 14–18), and of
the writer of the Epistles (1 John iv. 9). Further, many things are
spoken of as past, which at the supposed period of this conversation
with Nicodemus were yet future. For even if the words, he gave, ἔδωκεν,
refer not to the giving over to death, but to the sending of the
Messiah into the world; the expressions, men loved darkness, ἡγάπησαν
οἱ ἄνθρωποι τὸ σκότος, and, their deeds were evil, ῆν πονηρὰ αὐτῶν τὰ
ἔργα (v. 19), as Lücke also remarks, could only be used after the
triumph of darkness had been achieved in the rejection and execution of
Jesus: they belong then to the Evangelist’s point of view at the time
when he wrote, not to that of Jesus when on the threshold of his public
ministry. In general the whole of this discourse attributed to Jesus,
with its constant use of the third person to designate the supposed
speaker; with its dogmatical terms only begotten, light, and the like,
applied to Jesus; with its comprehensive view of the crisis and its
results, which the appearance of Jesus produced, is far too objective
for us to believe that it came from the lips of Jesus. Jesus could not
speak thus of himself, but the Evangelist might speak thus of Jesus.
Hence the same expedient has been adopted, as in the case of the
Baptist’s discourse already considered, and it has been supposed that
Jesus is the speaker down to v. 16, but that from that point the
Evangelist appends his own dogmatic reflections. [1037] But there is
again here no intimation of such a transition in the text; rather, the
connecting word for, γὰρ (v. 16), seems to indicate a continuation of
the same discourse. No writer, and least of all the fourth Evangelist
(comp. vii. 39, xi. 51 f., xii. 16, xxxiii. 37 ff.), would scatter his
own observations thus undistinguishingly, unless he wished to create a
misapprehension. [1038]

If then it be established that the evangelist, from v. 16 to the end of
the discourse, means to represent Jesus as the speaker, while Jesus can
never have so spoken, we cannot rest satisfied with the half measure
adopted by Lücke, when he maintains that it is really Jesus who
continues to speak from the above passage, but that the Evangelist has
inwoven his own explanations and amplifications more liberally than
before. For this admission undermines all certainty as to how far the
discourse belongs to Jesus, and how far to the Evangelist; besides, as
the discourse is distinguished by the closest uniformity of thought and
style, it must be ascribed either wholly to Jesus or wholly to the
Evangelist. Of these two alternatives the former is, according to the
above considerations, impossible; we are therefore restricted to the
latter, which we have observed to be entirely consistent with the
manner of the fourth Evangelist.

But not only on the passage v. 16–21 must we pass this judgment: v. 14
has appeared to us out of keeping with the position of Jesus; and the
behaviour of Nicodemus, v. 4 and 9, altogether inconceivable. Thus in
the very first sample, when compared with the observations which we
have already made on John iii. 22 ff., iv. 1 ff., the fourth gospel
presents to us all the peculiarities which characterize its mode of
reporting the discourses of Jesus. They are usually commenced in the
form of dialogue, and so far as this extends, the lever that propels
the conversation is the striking contrast between the spiritual sense
and the carnal interpretation of the language of Jesus; generally,
however, the dialogue is merged into an uninterrupted discourse, in
which the writer blends the person of Jesus with his own, and makes the
former use concerning himself, language which could only be used by
John concerning Jesus.

§ 81.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS, JOHN V.–XII.

In the fifth chapter of John, a long discourse of Jesus is connected
with a cure wrought by him on the sabbath (19–47). The mode in which
Jesus at v. 17 defends his activity on the sabbath, is worthy of
notice, as distinguished from that adopted by him in the earlier
gospels. These ascribe to him, in such cases, three arguments: the
example of David, who ate the shew-bread; the precedent of the
sabbatical labours of the priests in the temple, quoted also in John
vii. 23 (Matt. xii. 3 ff. parall.); and the course pursued with respect
to an ox, sheep, or ass, that falls into the pit (Matt. xii. 11,
parall.), or is led out to watering on the sabbath (Luke xiii. 18): all
which arguments are entirely in the practical spirit that characterizes
the popular teaching of Jesus. The fourth Evangelist, on the contrary,
makes him argue from the uninterrupted activity of God, and reminds us
by the expression which he puts into the mouth of Jesus, My Father
worketh hitherto, ὁ πατὴρ ἕως ἄρτι ἐργάζεται, of a principle in the
Alexandrian metaphysics, viz. God never ceases to act, ποιῶν ὁ θεὸς
οὐδέποτε παύεται: [1039] a metaphysical proposition more likely to be
familiar to the author of the fourth gospel than to Jesus. In the
synoptical gospels, miracles of healing on the sabbath are followed up
by declarations respecting the nature and design of the sabbatical
institution, a species of instruction of which the people were greatly
in need; but in the present passage, a digression is immediately made
to the main theme of the gospel, the person of Christ and his relation
to the Father. The perpetual recurrence of this theme in the fourth
gospel has led its adversaries, not without reason, to accuse it of a
tendency purely theoretic, and directed to the glorification of Jesus.
In the matter of the succeeding discourse there is nothing to create a
difficulty, nothing that Jesus might not have spoken, for it treats,
with the strictest coherence, of things which the Jews expected of the
Messiah, or which Jesus attributed to himself, according to the
synoptists also: as, for instance, the raising of the dead, and the
office of judging the world. But this consistency in the matter only
heightens the difficulty connected with the form and phraseology in
which it is expressed. For the discourse, especially its latter half
(from v. 31), is full of the closest analogies with the first epistle
of John, and with passages in the gospel in which either the author
speaks, or John the Baptist. [1040] One means of explaining the former
resemblance is to suppose, that the Evangelist formed his style by
closely imitating that of Jesus. That this is possible, is not to be
disputed; but it is equally certain that it could proceed only from a
mind destitute of originality and self-confidence,—a character which
the fourth Evangelist in nowise exhibits. Further, as in the other
gospels Jesus speaks in a thoroughly different tone and style, it would
follow, if he really spoke as he is represented to have done by John,
that the manner attributed to him by the synoptists is fictitious. Now,
that this manner did not originate with the Evangelists is plain from
the fact, that each of them is so little master of his matter. Neither
could the bulk of the discourses have been the work of tradition, not
only because they have a highly original cast, but because they bear
the impress of the alleged time and locality. On the contrary, the
fourth Evangelist, by the ease with which he disposes his materials,
awakens the suspicion that they are of his own production; and some of
his favourite ideas and phrases, such as, The Father showeth the Son
all that himself doeth, [1041] and those already quoted, seem to have
sprung from an Hellenistic source, rather than from Palestine. But the
chief point in the argument is, that in this gospel John the Baptist
speaks, as we have seen, in precisely the same strain as the author of
the gospels, and his Jesus. It cannot be supposed, that not only the
Evangelist, but the Baptist, whose public career was prior to that of
Jesus, and whose character was strongly marked, modelled his
expressions with verbal minuteness on those of Jesus. Hence only two
cases are possible: either the Baptist determined the style of Jesus
and the Evangelist (who indeed appears to have been the Baptist’s
disciple); or the Evangelist determined the style of the Baptist and
Jesus. The former alternative will be rejected by the orthodox, on the
ground of the higher nature that dwelt in Christ; and we are equally
disinclined to adopt it, for the reason that Jesus, even though he may
have been excited to activity by the Baptist, yet appears as a
character essentially distinct from him, and original; and for the
still more weighty consideration, that the style of the Evangelist is
much too feeble for the rude Baptist,—too mystical for his practical
mind. There remains, then, but the latter alternative, namely, that the
Evangelist has given his own style both to Jesus and to the Baptist: an
explanation in itself more natural than the former, and supported by a
multitude of examples from all kinds of historical writers. If however
the Evangelist is thus responsible for the form of this discourse, it
is still possible that the matter may have belonged to Jesus, but we
cannot pronounce to what extent this is the case, and we have already
had proof that the Evangelist, on suitable opportunities, very freely
presents his own reflections in the form of a discourse from Jesus.

In chap. vi., Jesus represents himself, or rather his Father, v. 27
ff., as the giver of the spiritual manna. This is analogous to the
Jewish idea above quoted, that the second Goël, like the first, would
provide manna; [1042] and to the invitation of Wisdom in the Proverbs,
ix. 5, Come, eat of my bread: ἔλθετε, φάγετε τῶν εμῶν ἄρτων. But the
succeeding declaration, that he is himself the bread of life that
cometh down from heaven, ἄρτος ὁ ζῶν ὁ ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ καταβὰς (v. 33
and 35) appears to find its true analogy only in the idea of Philo,
that the divine word, λόγος θεῖος, is that which nourishes the soul, τὸ
τρέφον τὴν ψυχήν. [1043] From v. 51, the difficulty becomes still
greater. Jesus proceeds to represent his flesh as the bread from
heaven, which he will give for the life of the world, and to eat the
flesh of the Son of Man, and to drink his blood, he pronounces to be
the only means of attaining eternal life. The similarity of these
expressions to the words which the synoptists and Paul attribute to
Jesus, at the institution of the Lord’s Supper, led the older
commentators generally to understand this passage as having reference
to the Sacramental supper, ultimately to be appointed by Jesus. [1044]
The chief objection to this interpretation is, that before the
institution of the supper, such an allusion would be totally
unintelligible. Still the discourse might have some sense, however
erroneous, for the hearers, as indeed it had, according to the
narrator’s statement; and the impossibility of being understood is not,
in the fourth gospel, so shunned by Jesus, that that circumstance alone
would suffice to render this interpretation improbable. It is certainly
supported by the analogy between the expressions in the discourse, and
the words associated with the institution of the supper, and this
analogy has wrung from one of our recent critics the admission, that
even if Jesus himself, in uttering the above expressions, did not refer
to the supper, the Evangelist, in choosing and conveying this discourse
of Jesus might have had that institution in his mind, and might have
supposed that Jesus here gave a premonition of its import. [1045] In
that case, however, he could scarcely have abstained from modifying the
language of Jesus; so that, if the choice of the expression eat the
flesh, etc., can only be adequately explained on the supposition of a
reference to the Lord’s Supper, we owe it, without doubt, to the
Evangelist alone. Having once said, apparently in accordance with
Alexandrian ideas, that Jesus had described himself as the bread of
life, how could he fail to be reminded of the bread, which in the
Christian community was partaken of as the body of Christ, together
with a beverage, as his blood? He would the more gladly seize the
opportunity of making Jesus institute the supper prophetically, as it
were; because, as we shall hereafter see, he knew nothing definite of
its historical institution by Jesus. [1046]

The discourse above considered, also bears the form of a dialogue, and
it exhibits strikingly the type of dialogue which especially belongs to
the fourth gospel: that, namely, in which language intended
spiritually, is understood carnally. In the first place (v. 34), the
Jews (as the woman of Samaria in relation to the water) suppose that by
the bread which cometh down from heaven, Jesus means some material
food, and entreat him evermore to supply them with such. Such a
misapprehension was certainly natural; but one would have thought that
the Jews, before they carried the subject farther, would have
indignantly protested against the assertion of Jesus (v. 32), that
Moses had not given them heavenly bread. When Jesus proceeds to call
himself the bread from heaven, the Jews in the synagogue at Capernaum
murmur that he, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother they knew,
should arrogate to himself a descent from heaven (v. 41); a reflection
which the synoptists with more probability attribute to the people of
Nazareth, the native city of Jesus, and to which they assign a more
natural cause. That the Jews should not understand (v. 53) how Jesus
could give them his flesh to eat is very conceivable; and for that
reason, as we have observed, it is the less so that Jesus should
express himself thus unintelligibly. Neither is it surprising that this
hard saying, σκληρὸς λόγος, should cause many disciples to fall away
from him, nor easy to perceive how Jesus could, in the first instance,
himself give reason for the secession, and then, on its occurrence,
feel so much displeasure as is implied in v. 61 and 67. It is indeed
said, that Jesus wished to sift his disciples, to remove from his
society the superficial believers, the earthly-minded, whom he could
not trust; but the measure which he here adopted was one calculated to
alienate from him even his best and most intelligent followers. For it
is certain that the twelve, who on other occasions knew not what was
meant by the leaven of the Pharisees (Matt. xvi. 7), or by the
opposition between what goes into the mouth, and what comes out of it
(Matt. xv. 15), would not understand the present discourse; and the
words of eternal life, for the sake of which they remained with him (v.
68), were assuredly not the words of this sixth chapter. [1047]

The further we read in the fourth gospel, the more striking is the
repetition: of the same ideas and expressions. The discourses of Jesus
during the Feast of Tabernacles, ch. vii. and viii. are, as Lücke has
remarked, mere repetitions and amplifications of the oppositions
previously presented (especially in ch. v.), of the coming, speaking,
and acting, of Jesus, and of God (vii. 17, 28 f., viii. 28 f., 38, 40,
42, compare with v. 30, 43, 38); of being from above, εἶναι ἐκ τῶν ἄνω,
and from beneath, ἐκ τῶν κάτω (viii. 23, comp. iii. 31); of bearing
witness of one’s self, and receiving witness from God (viii. 13–19,
comp. v. 31–37); of light and darkness (viii. 12, comp. iii. 10, ff.,
also xii. 35 f.); of true and false judgment (viii. 15 f., comp. v.
30). All that is new in these chapters, is quickly repeated, as the
mention of the departure of Jesus whither the Jews cannot follow him
(vii. 33 f., viii. 21, comp. xiii. 33, xiv. 2 ff., xvi. 16 ff.); a
declaration, to which are attached, in the first two instances, very
improbable misapprehensions or perversions on the part of the Jews,
who, although Jesus had said, I go unto him that sent me, are
represented as imagining, at one time, that he purposed journeying to
the dispersed among the Gentiles, at another, that he meditated
suicide. How often, again, in this chapter are repeated the
asseverations, that he seeks not his own honour, but the honour of the
Father (vii. 17 f., viii. 50, 54); that the Jews neither know whence he
came, nor the father who sent him (vii. 28, viii. 14, 19, 54); that
whosoever believeth in him shall have eternal life, shall not see
death, while whosoever believeth not must die in his sins, having no
share in eternal life (viii. 21, 24, 51, comp. iii. 36, vi. 40).—The
ninth chapter, consisting chiefly of the deliberations of the Sanhedrim
with the man born blind, whom Jesus had restored to sight, has of
course the form of conversation, but as Jesus is less on the scene than
heretofore, there is not the usual amount of artificial contrast; in
its stead, however, there is, as we shall presently find, another
evidence of artistic design in the narrator.

The tenth chapter commences with the well-known discourse on the Good
Shepherd; a discourse which has been incorrectly called a parable.
[1048] Even the briefest among the other parables of Jesus, such as
that of the leaven and of the mustard-seed, contain the outline of a
history that develops itself, having a commencement, progress, and
conclusion. Here, on the contrary, there is no historical development;
even the particulars that have an historical character are stated
generally, as things that are wont to happen, not as things that once
happened, and they are left without further limitation; moreover, the
door usurps the place of the Shepherd, which is at first the principal
image; so that we have here, not a parable, but an allegory. Therefore
this passage at least—(and we shall find no other, for the similitude
of the vine, ch. xv., comes, as Lücke confesses, under the same
category as the one in question)—furnishes no argument against the
allegation by which recent critics have justified their suspicions as
to the authenticity of the fourth gospel; namely, that its author seems
ignorant of the parabolic mode of teaching which, according to the
other Evangelists, was habitual with Jesus. It does not however appear
totally unknown to the fourth Evangelist that Jesus was fond of
teaching by parables, for he attempts to give examples of this method,
both in ch. x. and xv., the first of which he expressly styles a
parable, παροιμία. But it is obvious that the parabolic form was not
accordant with his taste, and that he was too deficient in the faculty
of depicting external things, to abstain from the intermixture of
reflections, whence the parable in his hand became an allegory.

The discourses of Jesus at the Feast of Tabernacles extend to x. 18.
From v. 25, the Evangelist professes to record sayings which were
uttered by Jesus three months later, at the Feast of Dedication. When,
on this occasion, the Jews desire from him a distinct declaration
whether he be the Messiah, his immediate reply is, that he has already
told them this sufficiently, and he repeats his appeal to the testimony
of the Father, as given in the works, ἔργα, done by Jesus in his name
(as in v. 36). Hereupon he observes that his unbelieving interrogators
are not of his sheep, whence he reverts to the allegory of the
shepherd, which he had abandoned, and repeats part of it word for word.
[1049] But Jesus had not recently abandoned this allegory; for since
its delivery three months are supposed to have elapsed, and it is
certain that in the interim much must have been spoken, done, and
experienced by Jesus, that would thrust this figurative discourse into
the background of his memory, so that he would be very unlikely to
recur to it, and in no case would he be able to repeat it, word for
word. He who had just quitted the allegory was the Evangelist, to whom
three months had not intervened between the inditing of the first half
of this chapter, and that of the second. He wrote at once what,
according to his statement, was chronologically separated by a wide
interval; and hence the allegory of the shepherd might well leave so
distinct an echo in his memory, though not in that of Jesus. If any
think that they can solve this difficulty by putting only the verbal
similarity of the later discourse to the earlier one to the account of
the Evangelist, such an opinion cannot be interdicted to them. For
others, this instance, in connexion with the rest, will be a positive
proof that the discourses of Jesus in the fourth gospel are to a great
extent the free compositions of the Evangelist.

The same conclusion is to be drawn from the discourse with which the
fourth Evangelist represents Jesus as closing his public ministry (xii.
44–50). This discourse is entirely composed of reminiscences out of
previous chapters, [1050] and, as Paulus expresses it, [1051] is a mere
echo of some of the principal apophthegms of Jesus occurring in the
former part of the gospel. One cannot easily consent to let the
ministry of Jesus close with a discourse so little original, and the
majority of recent commentators are of opinion that it is the intention
of the Evangelist here to give us a mere epitome of the teaching of
Jesus. [1052] According to our view also, the Evangelist is the real
speaker; but we must contend that his introductory words, Jesus cried
and said, Ἰησοῦς δὲ ἔκραξε καὶ εἶπεν, are intended to imply that what
follows is an actual harangue, from the lips of Jesus. This
commentators will not admit, and they can appeal, not without a show of
reason, to the statement of the Evangelist, v. 36, that Jesus withdrew
himself from the public eye, and to his ensuing observations on the
obstinate unbelief of the Jews, in which he seems to put a period to
the public career of Jesus; whence it would be contrary to his plan to
make Jesus again step forward to deliver a valedictory discourse. I
will not, with the older expositors, oppose to these arguments the
supposition that Jesus, after his withdrawal, returned to pronounce
these words in the ears of the Jews; but I hold fast to the proposition
that by the introduction above quoted, the Evangelist can only have
intended to announce an actual harangue. It is said, indeed, that the
aorist in ἔκραξε and εἶπε has the signification of the pluperfect, and
that we have here a recapitulation of the previous discourses of Jesus,
notwithstanding which the Jews had not given him credence. But to give
this retrospective signification there ought to be a corresponding
indication in the words themselves, or in the context, whereas this is
far less the case than e.g. in John xviii. 24. Hence the most probable
view of the question is this: John had indeed intended to close the
narrative of the public ministry of Jesus at v. 36, but his concluding
observations, v. 37 ff., with the categories of faith, πίστις, and
unbelief, ἀπιστία, reminded him of discourses which he had already
recorded, and he could not resist the temptation of making Jesus
recapitulate them with additional emphasis in a parting harangue.

§ 82.

ISOLATED MAXIMS OF JESUS, COMMON TO THE FOURTH GOSPEL AND THE
SYNOPTICAL ONES.

The long discourses of Jesus above examined are peculiar to the fourth
gospel; it has only a few brief maxims to which the synoptists present
parallels. Among the latter, we need not give a special examination to
those which are placed by John in an equally suitable connexion, with
that assigned to them by the other Evangelists (as xii. 25, comp. with
Matt. x. 39, xvi. 25; and xiii. 16, comp. with Matt. x. 24); and as the
passage ii. 19 compared with Matt. xxvi. 61, must be reserved until we
treat of the history of the Passion, there remain to us only three
passages for our present consideration.

The first of these is iv. 44, where the Evangelist, after having
mentioned that Jesus departed from Samaria into Galilee, adds, For
Jesus himself testified that a prophet has no honour in his own
country, αὐτὸς γὰρ ὁ Ἰ. ἐμαρτύρησεν, ὅτι προφήτης ἐν τῇ ἰδίᾳ πατρίδι
τιμὴν οὐκ ἔχει. We find the same idea in Matthew xiii. 57 (Mark vi. 4;
Luke iv. 24), A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country
and in his own house, οὐκ ἔστι προφήτης ἄτιμος, εἰ μὴ ἐν τῇ πατρίδι
αὑτοῦ καὶ ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ αὑτοῦ. But while in the latter case it stands in
a highly appropriate connexion, as a remark prompted by the ungracious
reception which Jesus met with in his native city, and which caused him
to leave it again: in John, on the contrary, it is given as a motive
for the return of Jesus into his own country, Galilee, where, moreover,
he is immediately said to be warmly received. The experience stated in
the above sentence would rather have disinclined than induced Jesus to
undertake a journey into Galilee; hence the expedient of translating
γὰρ by although, is the best adapted to the necessity of the case, and
has even been embraced by Kuinöl, except that, unhappily, it is an open
defiance of the laws of language. [1053] Unquestionably, if Jesus knew
that the prophet held this unfavourable position in his native country,
πατρίς, it is not probable that he would regard it as a reason for
going thither. Some expositors, therefore, have been induced to
understand πατρίς, not as the province, but in a narrower sense, as the
native city, and to supply, after the statement that Jesus went into
Galilee, the observation, which they assume the Evangelist to have
omitted, that he avoided his native city, Nazareth, for the reason
given in the ensuing verse. But an ellipsis such as this explanation
requires us to suppose, belongs not less to the order of
impossibilities than the transmutation of γὰρ into though. The attempt
to introduce the desiderated statement that Jesus did not visit his own
πατρίς into the present passage has been therefore renounced: but it
has yet been thought possible to discover there an intimation that he
did not soon return thither; a delay for which the maxim, ὅτι προφήτης
κ.τ.λ. might consistently be quoted as a reason. [1054] But to render
this interpretation admissible, the entire period of the absence of
Jesus from Galilee must have been mentioned immediately before the
notice of his return; instead of this, however, only the short time
that Jesus had tarried in Samaria is given (v. 45), so that in
ludicrous disproportion of cause and effect, the fear of the contempt
of his fellow country men would on the above supposition, be made the
reason for delaying his return into Galilee, not until after a
residence of some months in Judea, but until after the lapse of two
days spent in Samaria. So long, therefore, as Galilee and Nazareth are
admitted to be the πατρίς of Jesus, the passage in question cannot be
vindicated from the absurdity of representing, that Jesus was
instigated to return thither by the contempt which he knew to await
him. Consequently, it becomes the interest of the expositor to
recollect, that Matthew and Luke pronounce Bethlehem to be the
birthplace of Jesus, whence it follows that Judea was his native
country, which he now forsook on account of the contempt he had there
experienced. [1055] But according to iv. 1, comp. ii. 23, iii. 26 ff.,
Jesus had won a considerable number of adherents in Judea, and could
not therefore complain of a lack of honour, τιμή; moreover the enmity
of the Pharisees, hinted at in iv. 1, was excited by the growing
consequence of Jesus in Judea, and was not at all referable to such a
cause as that indicated in the maxim: ὅτι προφήτης κ.τ.λ. Further, the
entrance into Galilee is not connected in our passage with a departure
from Judea, but from Samaria; and as, according to the import of the
text, Jesus departed from Samaria and went into Galilee, because he had
found that a prophet has no honour in his own country, Samaria might
rather seem to be pointed out as his native country, in conformity with
the reproach cast on him by the Jews, viii. 48; though even this
supposition would not give consistency to the passage, for in Samaria
also Jesus is said, iv. 39, to have had a favourable reception.
Besides, we have already seen, [1056] that the fourth Evangelist knows
nothing of the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, but on all occasions
presupposes him to be a Galilean and a Nazarene. From the above
considerations we obtain only the negative result, that it is
impossible to discover any consistent relation between the maxim in
question and the context. A positive result,—namely, how the maxim came
to occupy its actual position, notwithstanding this want of relation,
will perhaps be obtained when we have examined the two other passages
belonging to the present head of our inquiry.

The declaration xiii. 20, He that receiveth you receiveth me, and he
that receiveth me receiveth him that sent me, has an almost verbal
parallel in Matt. x. 40. In John, it is preceded by the prediction of
the betrayal of Jesus, and his explanation to his disciples that he had
told them this before it came to pass, in order that when his
prediction was fulfilled, they might believe in him as the Messiah.
What is the connexion between these subjects and the above declaration,
or between the latter and its ensuing context, where Jesus recurs to
his betrayer? It is said that Jesus wished to impress on his disciples
the high dignity of a messianic missionary, a dignity which the
betrayer thought lightly of losing; [1057] but the negative idea of
loss, on which this supposition turns, is not intimated in the text.
Others are of opinion that Jesus, observing the disciples to be
disheartened by the mention of the betrayer, sought to inspire them
with new courage by representing to them their high value; [1058] but
in that case he would hardly have reverted immediately after to the
traitor. Others, again, conjecture that some intermediate sentences
have been omitted by the writer; [1059] but this expedient is not much
happier than that of Kuinöl, who supposes the passage to be a gloss
taken from Matt. x. 40, united originally to v. 16 of chap. xiii. of
John, but by some chance transposed to the end of the paragraph.
Nevertheless, the indication of v. 16 is an useful way-mark. This
verse, as well as v. 20, has a parallel in the discourse of
instructions in Matthew (x. 24); if a few fragments of this discourse
had reached the author of the fourth gospel through the medium of
tradition, it is very probable that one of them would bring the others
to his recollection. In v. 16 there is mention of the sent, ἀπόστολος,
and of him who sent him, πέμψας αὐτὸν; so in v. 20, of those whom Jesus
will send, and of Him who sent Jesus. It is true, that the one passage
has a humiliating, the other an encouraging tendency, and their
affinity lies, therefore, not in the sense, but in the words; so that
as soon as the fourth Evangelist puts down, from memory, traditional
sayings of Jesus, we see him subject to the same law of association as
the synoptists. It would have been the most natural arrangement to
place v. 20 immediately after v. 16; but the thought of the traitor was
uppermost in the mind of the writer, and he could easily postpone the
insertion of an apophthegm that had only a verbal connexion with his
previous matter.

Our third passage, xiv. 31, lies yet farther within the domain of the
history of the Passion than the one last examined, but as, like this,
it can be viewed quite independently, we shall not be anticipating if
we include it in our present chapter. In the above passage, the words
Arise, let us go hence, ἐγείρεσθε, ἄγωμεν ἐντεῦθεν, remind us of those
by which Jesus, Matt. xxvi. 46; Mark xiv. 42, summons his disciples to
join him in encountering the traitor: Rise, let us be going, ἐγείρεσθε
ἄγωμεν. The position of the words in John is perplexing, because the
summons to depart has no effect; Jesus, as if he had said nothing of
the kind, immediately continues (xv. 1), I am the true vine, etc., and
does not take his departure with his disciples until after he has
considerably prolonged his discourse. Expositors of every hue have been
singularly unanimous in explaining the above words by the supposition,
that Jesus certainly intended at the moment to depart and betake
himself to Gethsemane, but love for his disciples, and a strong desire
to impart to them still further admonition and comfort, detained him;
that hence, the first part of the summons, Arise, was executed, but
that, standing in the room in which he had supped, he pursued his
discourse, until, later (xviii. 1), he also put into effect the words,
let us go hence. [1060] It is possible that the circumstances were
such; it is also possible that the image of this last evening, with all
its details, might be engraven so deeply and accurately in the memory
of a disciple, that he might narrate how Jesus arose, and how
touchingly he lingered. But one who wrote under the influence of a
recollection thus lively, would note the particulars which were most
apparent; the rising to depart and the delay,—not the mere words, which
without the addition of those circumstances are altogether
unintelligible. Here again, then, the conjecture arises that a
reminiscence of the evangelical tradition presented itself to the
writer, and that he inserted it just where it occurred to him, not, as
it happened, in the best connexion; and this conjecture assumes
probability so soon as we discover what might have reminded him of the
above expression. In the synoptical parallels the command, Rise, let us
be going, is connected with the announcement, Behold the hour is at
hand, and the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners—behold
he is at hand that doth betray me; with the announcement, that is, of
the hostile power which is approaching, before which, however, Jesus
exhibits no fear, but goes to encounter the danger with the decision
implied in that command. In John’s gospel, also, Jesus, in the passage
under our notice, had been speaking of a hostile power when he said,
The Prince of this world cometh and hath nothing in me. It makes little
difference that in John it is the power that dwells in the betrayer,
and in those led by him, while, in the synoptical gospels, it is the
betrayer who is impelled by that power, that is said to approach. If
the author of the fourth gospel knew by tradition that Jesus had united
with the announcement of an approaching danger the words, Rise, let us
be going, this expression would be likely to occur to him on the
mention of the prince of this world; and as in that stage of his
narrative he had placed Jesus and his disciples in the city and within
doors, so that a considerable change of place was necessary before they
could encounter the enemy, he added to ἄγωμεν (let us go), ἐντεῦθεν
(hence). As, however, this traditional fragment had intruded itself
unawares into the train of thought, which he designed to put as a
farewell discourse into the mouth of Jesus, it was immediately lost
sight of, and a free course was given to the stream of valedictory
instruction, not yet exhausted.

If, from the point of view now attained, we glance back on our first
passage, iv. 44, it is easy to see how the Evangelist might be led to
insert in so unsuitable a connexion the testimony of Jesus as to the
treatment of a prophet in his own country. It was known to him
traditionally, and he appears to have applied it to Galilee in general,
being ignorant of any unfavourable contact of Jesus with the Nazarenes.
As, therefore, he knew of no special scene by which this observation
might have been prompted, he introduced it where the simple mention of
Galilee suggested it, apparently without any definite idea of its
bearing.

The result of the above investigation is this: the fourth Evangelist
succeeds in giving connectedness to his materials, when he presents his
own thoughts in the form of discourses delivered by Jesus; but he often
fails lamentably in that particular, when he has to deal with the real
traditional sayings of Jesus. In the above instances, when he has the
same problem before him as the synoptists, he is as unfortunate in its
solution as they; nay, he is in a yet more evil case, for his narrative
is not homogeneous with the common evangelical tradition, and presented
few places where a genuine traditional relic could be inserted.
Besides, he was accustomed to cast his metal, liquid from his own
invention, and was little skilled in the art of adapting independent
fragments to each other, so as to form an harmonious mosaic.

§ 83.

THE MODERN DISCUSSIONS ON THE AUTHENTICITY OF THE DISCOURSES IN THE
GOSPEL OF JOHN. RESULT.

The foregoing examination of the discourses of Jesus in the fourth
gospel, has sufficiently prepared us to form a judgment on the
controversy of which they have recently been the subject. Modern
criticism views these discourses with suspicion, partly on account of
their internal contexture, which is at variance with certain generally
received rules of historical probability, and partly on account of
their external relation to other discourses and narratives. On the
other hand, this gospel has had numerous defenders.

With respect to the internal contexture of the above discourses, there
arises a twofold question: Does it correspond to the laws, first of
verisimilitude, and secondly, of memory?

It is alleged by the friends of the fourth gospel that its discourses
are distinguished by a peculiar stamp of truth and credibility; that
the conversations which it represents Jesus as holding with men of the
most diverse disposition and capacity, are faithful delineations of
character, satisfying the strictest demands of psychological criticism.
[1061] In opposition to this, it is maintained to be in the highest
degree improbable, that Jesus should have adopted precisely the same
style of teaching to persons differing widely in their degrees of
cultivation; that he should have spoken to the Galileans in the
synagogue at Capernaum not more intelligibly than to a master of
Israel; that the matter of his discourses should have turned almost
entirely on one doctrine—the dignity of his person; and that their form
should have been such as to seem selected with a view to perplex and
repel his hearers. Neither, it is further urged, do the interlocutors
express themselves in conformity with their position and character. The
most educated Pharisee has no advantage in intelligence over a
Samaritan woman of the lowest grade; the one, as well as the other, can
only put a carnal interpretation on the discourse which Jesus intends
spiritually; their misconstructions, too, are frequently so glaring, as
to transcend all belief, and so uniform that they seem to belong to a
standing set of features with which the author of the fourth gospel has
chosen, for the sake of contrast, to depict those whom he brings into
conversation with Jesus. [1062] Hence, I confess, I understand not what
is the meaning of verisimilitude in the mind of those who ascribe it to
the discourses of Jesus in the Gospel of John.

As to the second point, regarding the powers of memory, it is pretty
generally agreed that discourses of the kind peculiar to John’s
gospel,—in contradistinction to the apophthegms and parables, either
isolated or strung together, in the synoptical gospels,—namely, series
of dependent propositions, or prolonged dialogues, are among the most
difficult to retain and reproduce with accuracy. [1063] Unless such
discourses were reduced to writing at the moment of their delivery, all
hope of their faithful reproduction must be abandoned. Hence Dr. Paulus
once actually entertained the idea, that in the judgment-halls of the
temple or the synagogues at Jerusalem, there were stationed a sort of
shorthand writers, whose office it was to draw up verbal processes, and
that from their records the Christians, after the death of Christ, made
transcripts. [1064] In like manner, Bertholdt was of opinion, that our
Evangelist, during the lifetime of Jesus, took down most of the
discourses of Jesus in the Aramæan language, and made these notes the
foundation of his gospel, composed at a much later period. [1065] These
modern hypotheses are clearly unhistorical; [1066] nevertheless, their
propounders were able to adduce many reasons in their support. The
prophetic declarations of Jesus relative to his death and resurrection,
said Bertholdt, are more indefinite in John than in the synoptical
gospels, a sure sign that they were recorded before their fulfilment,
for otherwise the writer’s experience of the event would have reflected
more clearness on the predictions. To this we may add the kindred
argument, by which Henke thought it possible to establish the
genuineness of the discourses in John: namely, that the fourth
Evangelist not seldom appends explanatory remarks, often indeed
erroneous, to the obscure expressions of Jesus, thus proving that he
was scrupulously conscientious in reporting the discourses, for
otherwise he would have mingled his comments with their original
matter. [1067] But it is with justice objected, that the obscurity of
the predictions in the fourth gospel is in perfect harmony with the
mystical spirit that pervades the work, and as, besides, the author,
together with his fondness for the obscure and enigmatical,
indisputably possessed taste, he must have been conscious that a
prophecy would only be the more piquant and genuine-looking, the more
darkly it was delivered: hence, though he put those predictions into
the mouth of Jesus long after the events to which they refer, he might
yet choose to give them an indefinite form. This observation helps to
explain why the Evangelist, when elucidating some obscure expressions
of Jesus, adds that his disciples did not understand them until after
his resurrection, or after the outpouring of the Holy Spirit (ii. 22,
vii. 39); for the opposition of the darkness in which the disciples at
one time groped, to the light which ultimately arose on them, belongs
to that order of contrasts with which this gospel abounds. Another
argument, adopted by Bertholdt and approved by Tholuck, is, that in the
discourses of the fourth gospel there sometimes occur observations,
which, having no precise meaning in themselves, nor any connexion with
the rest of the discourse, must have been occasioned by some external
circumstance, and can only be accounted for on the supposition of
prompt, nay, of immediate reduction to writing; and among their
examples the passage, Arise, let us go hence (xiv. 31), is one of the
most important. [1068] But the origin of such digressive remarks has
been above explained in a manner that renders the hypothesis of
instantaneous notetaking superfluous.

Thus commentators had to excogitate some other means of certifying the
genuineness of the discourses of Jesus in the fourth gospel. The
general argument, so often adduced, founded on what a good memory might
achieve, especially among men of simple lives, unused to writing, lies
in the region of abstract possibility, where, as Lücke remarks, [1069]
there may always be nearly as much said against as for a theory. It has
been thought more effectual to adopt an argument resting on a narrower
basis, and to appeal to the individual distinctions of the Apostle
John,—to his intimate and peculiar relation to Jesus as the favourite
disciple,—to his enthusiasm for his master, which must surely have
strengthened his memory, and have enabled him to preserve in the most
lively recollection all that came from the lips of his divine friend.
[1070] Although this peculiar relation of John to Jesus rests on the
authority of John’s gospel alone, we might, without reasoning in a
circle, draw from it conclusions as to the credibility of the
discourses communicated by him, were the faults of which his gospel is
accused only such as proceed from the inevitable fading of the memory;
because the positive notices of that relation could never flow from
this negative cause. As, however, the suspicion which has arisen to the
prejudice of the fourth Evangelist has gone far beyond those limits,
even to the extent of taxing him with free invention, no fact resting
on the word of John can be used in support of the discourses which he
communicates. But neither the above relation, if admitted, nor the
remark that John apparently attached himself to Jesus in early youth,
when impressions sink deepest, and from the time of his master’s death
lived in a circle where the memory of his words and deeds was
cherished, [1071] suffices to render it probable that John could retain
in his mind long series of ideas, and complicated dialogues, until the
period in which the composition of his gospel must be placed. For
critics are agreed that the tendency of the fourth gospel, its evident
aim to spiritualize the common faith of Christians into the Gnosis, and
thus to crush many errors which had sprung up, is a decisive
attestation that it was composed at a period when the church had
attained a degree of maturity, and consequently in the extreme old age
of the apostle. [1072]

Hence the champions of the discourses in question are fain to bring
forward, as a forlorn hope, the supernatural assistance of the
Paraclete, which was promised to the disciples, and which was to
restore all that Jesus had said to their remembrance. This is done by
Tholuck with great confidence, [1073] by Lücke with some diffidence,
[1074] which Tholuck’s Anzeiger severely censures, but which we
consider laudable, because it implies a latent consciousness of the
circle that is made, in attempting to prove the truthfulness of the
discourses in John, by a promise which appears nowhere but in those
discourses; [1075] and of the inadequacy of an appeal, in a scientific
inquiry, to a popular notion, such as that of the aid of the Holy
Spirit. The consciousness of this inadequacy shows itself indirectly in
Tholuck, for he ekes out the assistance of the Paraclete by early
notes; and in Lücke also, for he renounces the verbal authenticity of
the discourses in John, and only contends for their substantial
veracity on grounds chiefly connected with the relation which they bear
to other discourses.

The external relation of the discourses of Jesus in John’s gospel is
also twofold; for they may be compared both with those discourses which
the synoptists put into the mouth of Jesus, and with the manner in
which the author of the fourth gospel expresses himself when he is
avowedly the speaker.

As a result of the former comparison, critics have pointed out the
important difference that exists between the respective discourses in
their matter, as well as in their form. In the first three gospels,
Jesus closely adapts his teaching to the necessities of his
shepherdless people, contrasting, at one time, the corrupt institutions
of the Pharisees with the moral and religious precepts of the Mosaic
law; at another, the carnal messianic hopes of the age with the purely
spiritual nature of his kingdom, and the conditions of entrance
therein. In the fourth gospel, on the contrary, he is perpetually
dilating, and often in a barren, speculative manner, on the doctrine of
his person and higher nature: so that in opposition to the diversified
doctrinal and practical materials of the synoptical discourses, we have
in John a one-sided dogmatism. [1076] That this opposition does not
hold invariably, and that in the discourses of the synoptical gospels
there are passages which have more affinity with those of John, and
vice versâ, must be granted to judicious critics; [1077] but the
important preponderance of the dogmatical element on the one side, and
of the practical on the other, is a difficulty that demands a thorough
explanation. In answer to this requisition, it is common to adduce the
end which John is supposed to have had in view in the composition of
his gospel: namely, to furnish a supplement to the first three gospels,
and to supply their omissions. But if Jesus taught first in one style,
then in another, how was it that the synoptists selected almost
exclusively the practical and popular, John, nearly without exception,
the dogmatic and speculative portions of his discourse? This is
accounted for in a manner intrinsically probable. In the oral
tradition, it is observed, on which the first three gospels were
founded, the simple and popular, the concise and sententious discourses
of Jesus, being the most easy of retention, would alone be propagated,
while his more profound, subtle and diffuse discourses would be lost.
[1078] But according to the above supposition, the fourth Evangelist
came as a gleaner after the synoptists: now it is certain that all the
discourses of Jesus having a practical tendency had not been preserved
by them; hence, that the former has almost invariably avoided giving
any relic of such discourses, can only be explained by his preference
for the dogmatic and speculative vein: a preference which must have had
both an objective and a subjective source, the necessities of his time
and circumstances, and the bent of his own mind. This is admitted even
by critics who are favourable to the authenticity of the fourth gospel,
[1079] with the reservation, that the preference betrays itself only
negatively, by omission, not positively, by addition.

There is a further difference between the synoptical gospels and the
fourth, as to the form of teaching adopted by Jesus; in the one, it is
aphoristic and parabolic, in the other, dialectic. [1080] We have seen
that the parable is altogether wanting in the fourth gospel, and it is
natural to ask why, since Luke, as well as Matthew, has many admirable
parables peculiar to himself, John has not been able to make a rich
gleaning, even after those two predecessors? It is true that isolated
apothegms and sentences, similar to the synoptical ones, are not
entirely absent from the fourth gospel: but, on the other hand, it must
be admitted that the prevailing aphoristic and parabolic form of
instruction, ascribed to Jesus by the synoptists, is more suited to the
character of a popular teacher of Palestine, than the dialectic form
which he is made to adopt by John. [1081]

But the relation of the discourses of Jesus in the gospel of John, to
the Evangelist’s own style of thinking and writing, is decisive. Here
we find a similarity, [1082] which, as it extends to the discourses of
a third party, namely, the Baptist, cannot be explained by supposing
that the disciple had formed his style on that of the master, [1083]
but requires us to admit that the Evangelist has lent his own style to
the principal characters in his narrative. The latest commentator on
John has not only acknowledged this with regard to the colouring of the
expression; he even thinks that in the matter itself he can here and
there detect the explanatory amplifications of the Evangelist, who, to
use his own phrase, has had a hand in the composition of the longer and
more difficult discourses. [1084] But since the Evangelist does not
plainly indicate his additions, what is to assure us that they are not
throughout interwoven with the ideas of Jesus, nay, that all the
discourses which he communicates are not entirely his own productions?
The style furnishes no guidance, for this is everywhere the same, and
is admitted to be the Evangelist’s own; neither does the sense, for in
it also there is no essential difference whether the Evangelist speaks
in his own name or in that of Jesus: where then is the guarantee that
the discourses of Jesus are not, as the author of the Probabilia
maintains, free inventions of the fourth Evangelist?

Lücke adduces some particulars, which on this supposition would be in
his opinion inexplicable. [1085] First, the almost verbal agreement of
John with the synoptists in isolated sayings of Jesus. But as the
fourth Evangelist was within the pale of the Christian community, he
must have had at his command a tradition, from which, though drawing
generally on his own resources, he might occasionally borrow isolated,
marked expressions, nearly unmodified. Another argument of Lücke is yet
more futile. If, he says, John had really had the inclination and
ability to invent discourses for Jesus, he would have been more liberal
in long discourses; and the alternation of brief remarks with prolonged
addresses, is not to be explained on the above supposition. But this
would follow only if the author of the fourth gospel appeared to be a
tasteless writer, whose perception did not tell him, that to one
occasion a short discourse was suitable, to another a long one, and
that the alternation of diffuse harangues with concise sentences was
adapted to produce the best impression. Of more weight is the
observation of Paulus, that if the fourth Evangelist had given the rein
to his invention in attributing discourses to Jesus, he would have
obtruded more of his own views, of which he has given an abstract in
his prologue; whereas the scrupulousness with which he abstains from
putting his doctrine of the Logos into the mouth of Jesus, is a proof
of the faithfulness with which he confined himself to the materials
presented by his memory or his authorities. [1086] But the doctrine of
the Logos is substantially contained in the succeeding discourse of
Jesus; and that the form in which it is propounded by the evangelist in
his preface, does not also reappear, is sufficiently explained by the
consideration, that he must have known that form to be altogether
foreign to the teaching of Jesus.

We therefore hold it to be established, that the discourses of Jesus in
John’s gospel are mainly free compositions of the Evangelist; but we
have admitted that he has culled several sayings of Jesus from an
authentic tradition, and hence we do not extend this proposition to
those passages which are countenanced by parallels in the synoptical
gospels. In these compilations we have an example of the vicissitudes
which befal discourses, that are preserved only in the memory of a
second party. Severed from their original connexion, and broken up into
smaller and smaller fragments, they present when reassembled the
appearance of a mosaic, in which the connexion of the parts is a purely
external one, and every transition an artificial juncture. The
discourses of Jesus in John present just the opposite appearance. Their
gradual transitions, only rendered occasionally obscure by the mystical
depths of meaning in which they lie,—transitions in which one thought
develops itself out of another, and a succeeding proposition is
frequently but an explanatory amplification of the preceding,
[1087]—are indicative of a pliable, unresisting mass, such as is never
presented to a writer by the traditional sayings of another, but such
as proceeds from the stores of his own thought, which he moulds
according to his will. For this reason the contributions of tradition
to these stores of thought (apart from the sayings which are also found
in the earlier gospels) were not so likely to have been particular,
independent dicta of Jesus, as rather certain ideas which formed the
basis of many of his discourses, and which were modified and developed
according to the bent of a mind of Alexandrian or Greek culture. Such
are the correlative ideas of πατὴρ and υἱὸς (father and son), φῶς and
σκότος (light and darkness), ζωὴ and θάνατος (life and death), ἄνω and
κάτω (above and beneath), σὰρξ and πνεῦμα (flesh and spirit); also some
symbolical expressions, as ἄρτος τῆς ζωῆς (bread of life), ὕδωρ ζῶη
(water of life). These and a few other ideas, variously combined by an
ingenious author, compose the bulk of the discourses attributed to
Jesus by John; a certain uniformity necessarily attending this
elemental simplicity.

CHAPTER VIII.

EVENTS IN THE PUBLIC LIFE OF JESUS, EXCLUDING THE MIRACLES.

§ 84.

GENERAL COMPARISON OF THE MANNER OF NARRATION THAT DISTINGUISHES THE
SEVERAL EVANGELISTS.

If, before proceeding to the consideration of details, we compare the
general character and tone of the historical narration in the various
gospels, we find differences, first, between Matthew and the two other
synoptists; secondly, between the three first evangelists collectively
and the fourth.

Among the reproaches which modern criticism has heaped on the gospel of
Matthew, a prominent place has been given to its want of individualized
and dramatic life; a want which is thought to prove that the author was
not an eye-witness, since an eye-witness is ordinarily distinguished by
the precision and minuteness of his narration. [1088] Certainly, when
we read the indefinite designation of times, places and persons, the
perpetually recurring τότε, then, παράγων ἐκεῖθεν, departing from
thence, ἄνθρωπος, a man, which characterize this gospel; when we
recollect its wholesale statements, such as that Jesus went through all
the cities and villages (ix. 35, xi. 1, comp. iv. 23); that they
brought to him all sick people, and that he healed them all (iv. 24 f.,
xiv. 35 f., comp. xv. 29 ff.); and finally, the bareness and brevity of
many isolated narratives: we cannot disapprove the decision of this
criticism, that Matthew’s whole narrative resembles a record of events
which, before they were committed to writing, had been long current in
oral tradition, and had thus lost the impress of particularity and
minuteness. But it must be admitted, that this proof, taken alone, is
not absolutely convincing; for in most cases we may verify the remark,
that even an eye-witness may be unable graphically to narrate what he
has seen. [1089]

But our modern critics have not only measured Matthew by the standard
of what is to be expected from an eye-witness, in the abstract; they
have also compared him with his fellow-evangelists. They are of
opinion, not only that John decidedly surpasses Matthew in the power of
delineation, both in their few parallel passages and in his entire
narrative, but also that the two other synoptists, especially Mark, are
generally far clearer and fuller in their style of narration. [1090]
This is the actual fact, and it ought not to be any longer evaded. With
respect to the fourth Evangelist, it is true that, as one would have
anticipated, he is not devoid of general, wholesale statements, such
as, that Jesus during the feast did many miracles, that hence many
believed on him (ii. 23), with others of a similar kind (iii. 22, vii.
1): and he not seldom designates persons indecisively. Sometimes,
however, he gives the names of individuals whom Matthew does not
specify (xii. 3, 4, comp. with Matt. xxvi. 7, 8; and xviii. 10 with
Matt. xxvi. 51; also vi. 5 ff. with Matt. xiv. 16 f.); and he generally
lets us know the district or country in which an event happened. His
careful chronology we have already noticed; but the point of chief
importance is that his narratives (e.g. that of the man born blind, and
that of the resurrection of Lazarus) have a dramatic and life-like
character, which we seek in vain in the first gospel. The two
intermediate Evangelists are not free from indecisive designations of
time (e.g. Mark viii. 1; Luke v. 17, viii. 22); of place (Mark iii. 13;
Luke vi. 12); and of persons (Mark x. 17; Luke xiii. 23); nor from
statements that Jesus went through all cities, and healed all the sick
(Mark i. 32 ff., 38 f.; Luke iv. 40 f.); but they often give us the
details of what Matthew has only stated generally. Not only does Luke
associate many discourses of Jesus with special occasions concerning
which Matthew is silent, but both he and Mark notice the office or
names of persons, to whom Matthew gives no precise designation (Matt.
ix. 18; Mark v. 22; Luke viii. 41; Matt. xix. 16; Luke xviii. 18; Matt.
xx. 30; Mark x. 46). But it is chiefly in the lively description of
particular incidents, that we perceive the decided superiority of Luke,
and still more of Mark, over Matthew. Let the reader only compare the
narrative of the execution of John the Baptist in Matthew and Mark
(Matt. xiv. 3; Mark vi. 17), and that of the demoniac or demoniacs of
Gadara (Matt. viii. 28 ff. parall.).

These facts are, in the opinion of our latest critics, a confirmation
of the fourth Evangelist’s claim to the character of an eye-witness,
and of the greater proximity of the second and third Evangelists to the
scenes they describe, than can be attributed to the first. But, even
allowing that one who does not narrate graphically cannot be an
eye-witness, this does not involve the proposition that whoever does
narrate graphically must be an eye-witness. In all cases in which there
are extant two accounts of a single fact, the one full, the other
concise, opinions may be divided as to which of them is the original.
[1091] When these accounts have been liable to the modifications of
tradition, it is important to bear in mind that tradition has two
tendencies: the one, to sublimate the concrete into the abstract, the
individual into the general; the other, not less essential, to
substitute arbitrary fictions for the historical reality which is lost.
[1092] If then we put the want of precision in the narrative of the
first Evangelist to the account of the former function of the legend,
ought we at once to regard the precision and dramatic effect of the
other gospels, as a proof that their authors were eye-witnesses? Must
we not rather examine whether these qualities be not derived from the
second function of the legend? [1093] The decision with which the other
inference is drawn, is in fact merely an after-taste of the old
orthodox opinion, that all our gospels proceed immediately from
eye-witnesses, or at least through a medium incapable of error. Modern
criticism has limited this supposition, and admitted the possibility
that one or the other of our gospels may have been affected by oral
tradition. Accordingly it maintains, not without probability, that a
gospel in which the descriptions are throughout destitute of colouring
and life, cannot be the production of an eye-witness, and must have
suffered from the effacing fingers of tradition. But the counter
proposition, that the other gospels, in which the style of narration is
more detailed and dramatic, rest on the testimony of eye-witnesses,
would only follow from the supposed necessity that this must be the
case with some of our gospels. For if such a supposition be made with
respect to several narratives of both the above kinds, there is no
question that the more graphic and vivid ones are with preponderant
probability to be referred to eye-witnesses. But this supposition has
merely a subjective foundation. It was an easier transition for
commentators to make from the old notion that all the gospels were
immediately or mediately autoptical narratives, to the limited
admission that perhaps one may fall short of this character, than to
the general admission that it may be equally wanting to all. But,
according to the rigid rules of consequence, with the orthodox view of
the scriptural canon, falls the assumption of pure ocular testimony,
not only for one or other of the gospels, but for all; the possibility
of the contrary must be presupposed in relation to them all, and their
pretensions must be estimated according to their internal character,
compared with the external testimonies. From this point of view—the
only one that criticism can consistently adopt—it is as probable,
considering the nature of the external testimonies examined in our
Introduction, that the three last Evangelists owe the dramatic effect
in which they surpass Matthew, to the embellishments of a more mature
tradition, as that this quality is the result of a closer communication
with eye-witnesses.

That we may not anticipate, let us, in relation to this question, refer
to the results we have already obtained. The greater particularity by
which Luke is distinguished from Matthew in his account of the
occasions that suggested many discourses of Jesus, has appeared to us
often to be the result of subsequent additions; and the names of
persons in Mark (xiii. 3 comp. v. 37; Luke viii. 51) have seemed to
rest on a mere inference of the narrator. Now, however, that we are
about to enter on an examination of particular narratives, we will
consider, from the point of view above indicated, the constant forms of
introduction, conclusion, and transition, already noticed, in the
several gospels. Here we find the difference between Matthew and the
other synoptists, as to their more or less dramatic style, imprinted in
a manner that can best teach us how much this style is worth.

Matthew (viii. 16 f.) states in general terms, that on the evening
after the cure of Peter’s mother-in-law, many demoniacs were brought to
Jesus, all of whom, together with others that were sick, he healed.
Mark (i. 32) in a highly dramatic manner, as if he himself had
witnessed the scene, tells, that on the same occasion, the whole city
was gathered together at the door of the house in which Jesus was; at
another time, he makes the crowd block up the entrance (ii. 2); in two
other instances, he describes the concourse as so great, that Jesus and
his disciples could not take their food (iii. 20, vi. 31); and Luke on
one occasion states, that the people even gathered together in
innumerable multitudes so that they trode one upon another (xii. 1).
All highly vivid touches, certainly: but the want of them can hardly be
prejudicial to Matthew, for they look thoroughly like strokes of
imagination, such as abound in Mark’s narrative, and often, as
Schleiermacher observes, [1094] give it almost an apocryphal
appearance. In detailed narratives, of which we shall presently notice
many examples, while Matthew simply tells what Jesus said on a certain
occasion, the two other Evangelists are able to describe the glance
with which his words were accompanied (Mark iii. 5, x. 21; Luke vi.
10). On the mention of a blind beggar of Jericho, Mark is careful to
give us his name, and the name of his father (x. 46). From these
particulars we might already augur, what the examination of single
narratives will prove: namely, that the copiousness of Mark and Luke is
the product of the second function of the legend, which we may call the
function of embellishment. Was this embellishment gradually wrought out
by oral tradition, or was it the arbitrary addition of our Evangelists?
Concerning this, there may be a difference of opinion, and a degree of
probability in relation to particular passages is the nearest approach
that can be made to a decision. In any case, not only must it be
granted, that a narrative adorned by the writer’s own additions is more
remote from primitive truth than one free from such additions; but we
may venture to pronounce that the earlier efforts of the legend are
rapid sketches, tending to set off only the leading points whether of
speech or action, and that at a later period it aims rather to give a
symmetrical effect to the whole, including collateral incidents; so
that, in either view, the closest approximation to truth remains on the
side of the first gospel.

While the difference as to the more or less dramatic style of
concluding and connecting forms, lies chiefly between Matthew and the
other synoptists; another difference with respect to these forms,
exists between all the synoptists and John. While most of the
synoptical anecdotes from the public life of Jesus are wound up by a
panegyric, those of John generally terminate, so to speak, polemically.
It is true that the three first Evangelists sometimes mention, by way
of conclusion, the offence that Jesus gave to the narrow-hearted, and
the machinations of his enemies against him (Matt. viii. 34, xii. 14,
xxi. 46, xxvi. 3 f.; Luke iv. 28 f., xi. 53 f.); and, on the other
hand, the fourth Evangelist closes some discourses and miracles by the
remark, that in consequence of them, many believed on Jesus (ii. 23,
iv. 39, 53, vii. 31, 40 f., viii. 30, x. 42, xi. 45). But in the
synoptical gospels, throughout the period previous to the residence of
Jesus in Jerusalem, we find forms implying that the fame of Jesus had
extended far and wide (Matt. iv. 24, ix. 26, 31; Mark i. 28, 45, v. 20,
vii. 36; Luke iv. 37, v. 15, vii. 17, viii. 39); that the people were
astonished at his doctrine (Matt. vii. 28; Mark i. 22, xi. 18; Luke
xix. 48), and miracles (Matt. viii. 27, ix. 8, xiv. 33, xv. 31), and
hence followed him from all parts (Matt. iv. 25, viii. 1, ix. 36, xii.
15, xiii. 2, xiv. 13). In the fourth gospel, on the contrary, we are
continually told that the Jews sought to kill Jesus (v. 18, vii. 1);
the Pharisees wish to take him, or send out officers to seize him (vii.
30, 32, 44; comp. viii. 20, x. 39); stones are taken up to cast at him
(viii. 59, x. 31); and even in those passages where there is mention of
a favourable disposition on the part of the people, the Evangelist
limits it to one portion of them, and represents the other as inimical
to Jesus (vii. 11–13). He is especially fond of drawing attention to
such circumstances, as that before the final catastrophe all the guile
and power of the enemies of Jesus were exerted in vain, because his
hour was not yet come (vii. 30, viii. 20); that the emissaries sent out
against him, overcome by the force of his words, and the dignity of his
person, retired without fulfilling their errand (vii. 32, 44 ff.); and
that Jesus passed unharmed through the midst of an exasperated crowd
(viii. 59, x. 39; comp. Luke iv. 30). The writer, as we have above
remarked, certainly does not intend us in these instances to think of a
natural escape, but of one in which the higher nature of Jesus, his
invulnerability so long as he did not choose to lay down his life, was
his protection. And this throws some light on the object which the
fourth Evangelist had in view, in giving prominence to such traits as
those just enumerated: they helped him to add to the number of the
contrasts, by which, throughout his works, he aims to exalt the person
of Jesus. The profound wisdom of Jesus, as the divine Logos, appeared
the more resplendent, from its opposition to the rude
unapprehensiveness of the Jews; his goodness wore a more touching
aspect, confronted with the inveterate malice of his enemies; his
appearance gained in impressiveness, by the strife he excited among the
people; and his power, as that of one who had life in himself,
commanded the more reverence, the oftener his enemies and their
instruments tried to seize him, and, as if restrained by a higher
power, were not able to lay hands on him,—the more marvellously he
passed through the ranks of adversaries prepared to take away his life.
It has been made matter of praise to the fourth Evangelist, that he
alone presents the opposition of the pharisaic party to Jesus, in its
rise and gradual progress: but there are reasons for questioning
whether the course of events described by him, be not rather fictitious
than real. Partially fictitious, it evidently is; for he appeals to the
supernatural for a reason why the Pharisees so long effected nothing
against Jesus: whereas the synoptists preserve the natural sequence of
the facts by stating as a cause, that the Jewish hierarchy feared the
people, who were attached to Jesus as a prophet (Matt. xxi. 46; Mark
xii. 12; Luke xx. 19). If then the fourth Evangelist was so far guided
by his dogmatical interest, that for the escape of Jesus from the more
early snares and assaults of his enemies, he invented such a reason as
best suited his purpose; what shall assure us that he has not also, in
consistency with the characteristics which we have already discerned in
him, fabricated, for the sake of that interest, entire scenes of the
kind above noticed? Not that we hold it improbable, that many futile
plots and attacks of the enemies of Jesus preceded the final
catastrophe of his fate:—we are only dubious whether these attempts
were precisely such as the gospel of John describes.

§ 85.

ISOLATED GROUPS OF ANECDOTES. IMPUTATION OF A LEAGUE WITH BEELZEBUB,
AND DEMAND OF A SIGN.

In conformity with the aim of our criticism, we shall here confine our
attention to those narratives, in which the influence of the legend may
be demonstrated. The strongest evidence of this influence is found
where one narrative is blended with another, or where the one is a mere
variation of the other: hence, chronology having refused us its aid, we
shall arrange the anecdotes about to be considered according to their
mutual affinity.

To begin with the more simple form of legendary influence: Schulz has
already complained, that Matthew mentions two instances, in which a
league with Beelzebub was imputed to Jesus, and a sign demanded from
him; circumstances which in Mark and Luke happen only once. [1095] The
first time the imputation occurs (Matt. ix. 32 ff.), Jesus has cured a
dumb demoniac; at this the people marvel, but the Pharisees observe, He
casts out demons through the prince (ἄρχων) of the demons. Matthew does
not here say that Jesus returned any answer to this accusation. On the
second occasion (xii. 22 ff.), it is a blind and dumb demoniac whom
Jesus cures; again the people are amazed, and again the Pharisees
declare that the cure is effected by the help of Beelzebub, the ἄρχων
of the demons, whereupon Jesus immediately exposes the absurdity of the
accusation. That it should have been alleged against Jesus more than
once when he cast out demons, is in itself probable. It is however
suspicious that the demoniac who gives occasion to the assertion of the
Pharisees, is in both instances dumb (in the second only, blindness is
added). Demoniacs were of many kinds, every variety of malady being
ascribed to the influence of evil spirits; why, then, should the above
imputation be not once attached to the cure of another kind of
demoniac, but twice to that of a dumb one? The difficulty is heightened
if we compare the narrative of Luke (xi. 14 f.), which, in its
introductory description of the circumstances, corresponds not to the
second narrative in Matthew, but to the first; for as there, so in
Luke, the demoniac is only dumb, and his cure and the astonishment of
the people are told with precisely the same form of expression:—in all
which points, the second narrative of Matthew is more remote from that
of Luke. But with this cure of the dumb demoniac, which Matthew
represents as passing off in silence on the part of Jesus, Luke
connects the very discourse which Matthew appends to the cure of the
one both blind and dumb; so that Jesus must on both these successive
occasions, have said the same thing. This is a very unlikely
repetition, and united with the improbability, that the same accusation
should be twice made in connexion with a dumb demoniac, it suggests the
question, whether legend may not here have doubled one and the same
incident? How this can have taken place, Matthew himself shows us, by
representing the demoniac as, in the one case, simply dumb, in the
other, blind also. Must it not have been a striking cure which excited,
on the one hand, the astonishment of the people, on the other, this
desperate attack of the enemies of Jesus? Dumbness alone might soon
appear an insufficient malady for the subject of the cure, and the
legend, ever prone to enhance, might deprive him of sight also. If
then, together with this new form of the legend, the old one too was
handed down, what wonder that a compiler, more conscientious than
critical, such as the author of the first gospel, adopted both as
distinct histories, merely omitting on one occasion the discourse of
Jesus, for the sake of avoiding repetition. [1096]

Matthew, having omitted (ix. 34) the discourse of Jesus, was obliged
also to defer the demand of a sign, which required a previous rejoinder
on the part of Jesus, until his second narration of the charge
concerning Beelzebub; and in this point again the narrative of Luke,
who also attaches the demand of a sign to the accusation, is parallel
with the later passage of Matthew. [1097] But Matthew not only has,
with Luke, a demand of a sign in connexion with the above charge; he
has also another, after the second feeding of the multitude (xvi. 1
ff.), and this second demand Mark also has (viii. 11 f.), while he
omits the first. Here the Pharisees come to Jesus (according to
Matthew, in the unlikely companionship of Sadducees), and tempt him by
asking for a sign from heaven, σημεῖον ἑκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ. To this Jesus
gives an answer, of which the concluding proposition, a wicked and
adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be
given unto it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas; γενεὰ πονηρὰ καὶ
μοιχαλὶς σημεῖον ἐπιζητεῖ, καὶ σημεῖον οὐ δοθήσεται αὐτῆ, εἰ μὴ τὸ
σημεῖον Ἰωνᾶ τοῦ προφήτου, in Matthew, agrees word for word with the
opening of the earlier refusal. It is already improbable enough, that
Jesus should have twice responded to the above requisition with the
same enigmatical reference to Jonah; but the words (v. 2, 3) which, in
the second passage of Matthew, precede the sentence last quoted, are
totally unintelligible. For why Jesus, in reply to the demand of his
enemies that he would show them a sign from heaven, should tell them
that they were indeed well versed in the natural signs of the heavens,
but were so much the more glaringly ignorant of the spiritual signs of
the messianic times, is so far from evident, that the otherwise
unfounded omission of v. 2 and 3, seems to have arisen from despair of
finding any connexion for them. [1098] Luke, who also has (xii. 54 f.),
in words only partly varied, this reproach of Jesus that his
cotemporaries understood better the signs of the weather than of the
times, gives it another position, which might be regarded as the
preferable one; since after speaking of the fire which he was to
kindle, and the divisions which he was to cause, Jesus might very aptly
say to the people: You take no notice of the unmistakable prognostics
of this great revolution which is being prepared by my means, so ill do
you understand the signs of the times. [1099] But on a closer
examination, Luke’s arrangement appears just as abrupt here, as in the
case of the two parables (xiii. 18). [1100] If from hence we turn again
to Matthew, we easily see how he was led to his mode of representation.
He may have been induced to double the demand of a sign, by the verbal
variation which he met with, the required sign being at one time called
simply a σημεῖον, at another a σημεῖον ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ. And if he knew
that Jesus had exhorted the Jews to study the signs of the times, as
they had hitherto studied the appearance of the heavens, the conjecture
was not very remote, that the Jews had given occasion for this
admonition by demanding a sign from heaven, σημεῖον ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ.
Thus Matthew here presents us, as Luke often does elsewhere, with a
fictitious introduction to a discourse of Jesus; a proof of the
proposition, advanced indeed, but too little regarded by Sieffert:
[1101] that it is in the nature of traditional records, such as the
three first gospels, that one particular should be best preserved in
this narrative, another in that; so that first one, and then the other,
is at a disadvantage, in comparison with the rest.

§ 86.

VISIT OF THE MOTHER AND BRETHREN OF JESUS. THE WOMAN WHO PRONOUNCES THE
MOTHER OF JESUS BLESSED.

All the synoptists mention a visit of the mother and brethren of Jesus,
on being apprised of which Jesus points to his disciples, and declares
that they who do the will of God are his mother and his brethren (Matt.
xii. 46 ff.; Mark iii. 31 ff.; Luke viii. 19 ff.). Matthew and Luke do
not tell us the object of this visit, nor, consequently, whether this
declaration of Jesus, which appears to imply a disowning of his
relatives, was occasioned by any special circumstance. On this subject
Mark gives us unexpected information; he tells us (v. 21) that while
Jesus was teaching among a concourse of people, who even prevented him
from taking food, his relatives, under the idea that he was beside
himself, went out to seize him, and take him into the keeping of his
family. [1102] In describing this incident, the Evangelist makes use of
the expression, ἔλεγον ὅτι ἐξέστη (they said, he is beside himself),
and it was merely this expression, apparently, that suggested to him
what he next proceeds to narrate: οἱ γραμματεῖς ἔλεγον, ὅτι Βεελζεβοὺλ
ἔχει κ.τ.λ. (the scribes said, he hath Beelzebub, etc., comp. John x.
20). With this reproach, which however he does not attach to an
expulsion of demons, he connects the answer of Jesus; he then recurs to
the relatives, whom he now particularizes as the mother and brethren of
Jesus, supposing them to have arrived in the meantime; and he makes
their announcement call forth from Jesus the answer of which we have
above spoken.

These particulars imparted by Mark are very welcome to commentators, as
a means of explaining and justifying the apparent harshness of the
answer which Jesus returns to the announcement of his nearest
relatives, on the ground of the perverted object of their visit. But,
apart from the difficulty that, on the usual interpretation of the
accounts of the childhood of Jesus, it is not to be explained how his
mother could, after the events therein described, be thus mistaken in
her son, it is very questionable whether we ought to accept this
information of Mark’s. In the first place, it is associated with the
obvious exaggeration, that Jesus and his disciples were prevented even
from taking food by the throng of people; and in the second place, it
has in itself a strange appearance, from its want of relation to the
context. If these points are considered, it will scarcely be possible
to avoid agreeing with the opinion of Schleiermacher, that no
explanation of the then existing relations of Jesus with his family is
to be sought in this addition; that it rather belongs to those
exaggerations to which Mark is so prone, as well in his introductions
to isolated incidents, as in his general statements. [1103] He wished
to make it understood why Jesus returned an ungracious answer to the
announcement of his relatives; for this purpose he thought it necessary
to give their visit an object of which Jesus did not approve, and as he
knew that the Pharisees had pronounced him to be under the influence of
Beelzebub, he attributed a similar opinion to his relatives.

If we lay aside this addition of Mark’s, the comparison of the three
very similar narratives presents no result as it regards their matter;
[1104] but there is a striking difference between the connexions in
which the Evangelists place the event. Matthew and Mark insert it after
the defence against the suspicion of diabolical aid, and before the
parable of the sower; whereas Luke makes the visit considerably prior
to that imputation, and places the parable even before the visit. It is
worthy of notice, however, that Luke has, after the defence against the
accusation of a league with Beelzebub, in the position which the two
other Evangelists give to the visit of the relatives of Jesus, an
incident which issues in a declaration, precisely similar to that which
the announcement calls forth. After the refutation of the Pharisaic
reproach, and the discourse on the return of the unclean spirit, a
woman in the crowd is filled with admiration, and pronounces the mother
of Jesus blessed, on which Jesus, as before on the announcement of his
mother, replies; Yea, rather blessed are they who hear the word of God
and keep it! [1105] Schleiermacher here again prefers the account of
Luke: he thinks this little digression on the exclamation of the woman
especially evinces a fresh and lively recollection, which has inserted
it in its real place and circumstances; whereas Matthew, confounding
the answer of Jesus to the ejaculation of the woman, with the very
similar one to the announcement of his relatives, gives to the latter
the place of the former, and thus passes over the scene with the woman.
[1106] But how the woman could feel herself hurried away into so
enthusiastic an exclamation, precisely on hearing the abstruse
discourse on the return of the expelled demons, or even the foregoing
reprehensive reply to the Pharisees, it is difficult to understand, and
the contrary conjecture to that of Schleiermacher might rather be
established; namely, that in the place of the announcement of the
relatives, the writer of the third gospel inserted the scene with the
woman, from its having a like termination. The evangelical tradition,
as we see from Matthew and Mark, whether from historical or merely
accidental motives, had associated the above visit and the saying about
the spiritual relatives, with the discourse of Jesus on the accusation
of a league with Beelzebub, and on the return of the unclean spirit;
and Luke also, when he came to the conclusion of that discourse, was
reminded of the anecdote of the visit and its point—the extolling of a
spiritual relationship to Jesus. But he had already mentioned the
visit; [1107] he therefore seized on the scene with the woman, which
presented a similar termination. From the strong resemblance between
the two anecdotes, I can scarcely believe that they are founded on two
really distinct incidents; rather, it is more likely that the memorable
declaration of Jesus, that he preferred his spiritual before his bodily
relatives, had in the legend received two different settings or frames.
According to one, it seemed the most natural that such a depreciation
of his kindred should be united with an actual rejection of them; to
another, that the exaltation of those who were spiritually near to him,
should be called forth by a blessing pronounced on those who were
nearest to him in the flesh. Of these two forms of the legend, Matthew
and Mark give only the first; Luke, however, had already disposed of
this on an earlier occasion; when, therefore, he came to the passage
where, in the common evangelical tradition, that anecdote occurred, he
was induced to supply its place by the second form.

§ 87.

CONTENTIONS FOR PRE-EMINENCE AMONG THE DISCIPLES. THE LOVE OF JESUS FOR
CHILDREN.

The three first Evangelists narrate several contentions for
pre-eminence which arose among the disciples, with the manner in which
Jesus composed these differences. One such contention, which is said to
have arisen among the disciples after the transfiguration, and the
first prediction of the passion, is common to all the gospels (Matt.
xviii. 1 ff.; Mark ix. 33 ff.; Luke ix. 46 ff.). There are indeed
divergencies in the narratives, but the identity of the incident on
which they are founded is attested by the fact, that in all of them,
Jesus sets a little child before his disciples as an example; a scene
which, as Schleiermacher remarks, [1108] would hardly be repeated.
Matthew and Mark concur in mentioning a dispute about pre-eminence,
which was excited by the two sons of Zebedee. These disciples
(according to Mark), or their mother for them (according to Matthew),
petitioned for the two first places next to Jesus in the messianic
kingdom (Matt. xx. 20 ff.; Mark x. 35 ff.). [1109] Of such a request on
the part of the sons of Zebedee, the third Evangelist knows nothing;
but apart from this occasion, there is a further contention for
pre-eminence, on which discourses are uttered, similar to those which
the two first Evangelists have connected with the above petition. At
the last supper of which Jesus partook with his disciples before his
passion, Luke makes the latter fall into a φιλονεικία (dispute) which
among them shall be the greatest; a dispute which Jesus seeks to quell
by the same reasons, and partly with the same words, that Matthew and
Mark give in connexion with the ἀγανάκτησις, (indignation), excited in
the disciples generally by the request of the sons of Zebedee. Luke
here reproduces a sentence which he, in common with Mark, had
previously given almost in the same form, as accompanying the
presentation of the child; and which Matthew has, not only on the
occasion of Salome’s prayer, but also in the great anti-pharisaic
discourse (comp. Luke xxii. 26; Mark ix. 35; Luke ix. 48; Matt. xx. 26
f., xxiii. 11). However credible it may be that with the worldly
messianic hopes of the disciples, Jesus should often have to suppress
disputes among them on the subject of their future rank in the
Messiah’s kingdom, it is by no means probable that, for example, the
sentence, Whosoever will be great among you, let him be the servant of
all: should be spoken, 1st, on the presentation of the child; 2ndly, in
connexion with the prayer of the sons of Zebedee; 3rdly, in the
anti-pharisaic discourse, and 4thly, at the last supper. There is here
obviously a traditional confusion, whether it be (as Sieffert in such
cases is fond of supposing) that several originally distinct
occurrences have been assimilated by the legend, i.e. the same
discourse erroneously repeated on various occasions; or that out of one
incident the legend has made many, i.e. has invented various occasions
for the same discourse. Our decision between these two possibilities
must depend on the answer to the following question: Have the various
facts, to which the analogous discourses on humility are attached, the
dependent appearance of mere frames to the discourses, or the
independent one of occurrences that carry their truth and significance
in themselves?

It will not be denied that the petition of the sons of Zebedee, is in
itself too specific and remarkable to be a mere background to the
ensuing discourse; and the same judgment must be passed on the scene
with the child: so that we have already two cases of contention for
pre-eminence subsisting in themselves. If we would assign to each of
these occurrences its appropriate discourses, the declarations which
Matthew connects with the presentation of the child: Unless ye become
as this child, etc., and Whosoever shall humble himself as this child,
etc., evidently belong to this occasion. On the other hand, the
sentences on ruling and serving in the world and in the kingdom of
Jesus, seem to be a perfectly suitable comment on the petition of the
sons of Zebedee, with which Matthew associates them: also the saying
about the first and the last, the greatest and the least, which Mark
and Luke give so early as at the scene with the child, Matthew seems
rightly to have reserved for the scene with the sons of Zebedee. It is
otherwise with the contention spoken of by Luke (xxii. 24 ff.). This
contention originates in no particular occasion, nor does it issue in
any strongly marked scene (unless we choose to insert here the washing
of the disciples’ feet, described by John, who, for the rest, mentions
no dispute;—of which scene, however, we cannot treat until we come to
the history of the Passion). On the contrary, this contention is
ushered in merely by the words, ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ φιλονεικία ἐν
αὐτοῖς,—nearly the same by which the first contention is introduced,
ix. 46,—and leads to a discourse from Jesus, which, as we have already
noticed, Matthew and Mark represent him to have delivered in connexion
with the earlier instances of rivalry; so that this passage of Luke has
nothing peculiarly its own, beyond its position, at the last supper.
This position, however, is not very secure; for that immediately after
the discourse on the betrayer, so humiliating to the disciples, pride
should so strongly have taken possession of them, is as difficult to
believe, as it is easy to discover, by a comparison of v. 23 and 24,
how the writer might be led, without historical grounds, to insert here
a contention for pre-eminence. It is clear that the words καὶ αὐτοὶ
ἤρξαντο συζητεῖν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς, τὸ, τίς ἄρα εἴη ἐξ αὐτῶν ὁ τοῦτο μέλλων
πράσσειν; suggested to him the similar ones, ἐγένετο δὲ καὶ φιλονεικία
ἐν αὐτοῖς, τὸ τίς αὐτῶν δοκεῖ εἶναι μείζων; that is, the disputes about
the betrayer called to his remembrance the disputes about pre-eminence.
One such dispute indeed, he had already mentioned, but had only
connected with it, one sentence excepted, the discourses occasioned by
the exhibition of the child; he had yet in reserve those which the two
first Evangelists attach to the petition of the sons of Zebedee, an
occasion which seems not to have been present to the mind of the third
Evangelist, whence he introduces the discourses pertaining to it here,
with the general statement that they originated in a contention for
pre-eminence, which broke out among the disciples. Meanwhile the
chronological position, also, of the two first-named disputes about
rank, has very little probability; for in both instances, it is after a
prediction of the passion, which, like the prediction of the betrayal,
would seem calculated to suppress such thoughts of earthly ambition.
[1110] We therefore welcome the indication which the evangelical
narrative itself presents, of the manner in which the narrators were
led unhistorically to such an arrangement. In the answer of Jesus to
the prayer of Salome, the salient point was the suffering that awaited
him and his disciples; hence by the most natural association of ideas,
the ambition of the two disciples, the antidote to which was the
announcement of approaching trial, was connected with the prediction of
the passion. Again, on the first occasion of rivalry, the preceding
prediction of the passion leads in Mark and Luke to the observation,
that the disciples did not understand the words of Jesus, and yet
feared to ask him concerning them, whence it may be inferred that they
debated and disputed on the subject among themselves; here, then, the
association of ideas caused the Evangelists to introduce the contention
for pre-eminence, also carried on in the absence of Jesus. This
explanation is not applicable to the narrative of Matthew, for there,
between the prediction of the passion and the dispute of the disciples,
the anecdote of the coin angled for by Peter, intervenes.

With the above contentions for pre-eminence, another anecdote is
indirectly connected by means of the child which is put forward on one
of those occasions. Children are brought to Jesus that he may bless
them; the disciples wish to prevent it, but Jesus speaks the
encouraging words, Suffer little children to come unto me, and adds
that only for children, and those who resemble children, is the kingdom
of heaven destined (Matt. xix. 13 ff.; Mark x. 13 ff.; Luke xviii. 15
ff.). This narrative has many points of resemblance to that of the
child placed in the midst of the disciples. Firstly, in both, Jesus
presents children as a model, and declares that only those who resemble
children can enter the kingdom of God; secondly, in both, the disciples
appear in the light of opposition to children; and, thirdly, in both,
Mark says, that Jesus took the children in his arms (ἐναγκαλισάμενος).
If these points of resemblance be esteemed adequate ground for reducing
the two narratives to one, the latter must, beyond all question, be
retained as the nearest to truth, because the saying of Jesus, Suffer
little children, etc., which from its retaining this original form in
all the narratives, bears the stamp of genuineness, could scarcely have
been uttered on the other occasion; whereas, the sentences on children
as patterns of humility, given in connexion with the contention about
rank, might very well have been uttered under the circumstances above
described, in retrospective allusion to previous contentions about
rank. Nevertheless, this might rather be the place for supposing an
assimilation of originally diverse occurrences, since it is at least
evident, that Mark has inserted the expression ἐναγκαλισάμενος in both,
simply on account of the resemblance between the two scenes.

§ 88.

THE PURIFICATION OF THE TEMPLE.

Jesus, during his first residence in Jerusalem, according to John (ii.
14 ff.), according to the synoptists, during his last (Matt. xxi. 12
ff. parall.), undertook the purification of the temple. The ancient
commentators thought, and many modern ones still think, [1111] that
these were separate events, especially as, besides the chronological
difference, there is some divergency between the three first
Evangelists and the fourth in their particulars. While, namely, the
former, in relation to the conduct of Jesus, merely speak in general
terms of an expulsion, ἐκβάλλειν, John says that he made a scourge of
small cords, φραγέλλιον ἐκ σχοινίων, for this purpose: again, while
according to the former, he treats all the sellers alike, he appears,
according to John, to make some distinction, and to use the sellers of
doves somewhat more mildly; moreover, John does not say that he drove
out the buyers, as well as the sellers. There is also a difference as
to the language used by Jesus on the occasion; in the synoptical
gospels, it is given in the form of an exact quotation from the Old
Testament; in John, merely as a free allusion. But, above all, there is
a difference as to the result: in the fourth gospel, Jesus is
immediately called to account; in the synoptical gospels, we read
nothing of this, and according to them, it is not until the following
day that the Jewish authorities put to Jesus a question, which seems to
have reference to the purification of the temple (Matt. xxi. 23 ff.),
and to which Jesus replies quite otherwise than to the remonstrance in
the fourth gospel. To explain the repetition of such a measure, it is
remarked that the abuse was not likely to cease on the first expulsion,
and that on every revival of it, Jesus would feel himself anew called
on to interfere; that, moreover, the temple purification in John is
indicated to be an earlier event than that in the synoptical gospels,
by the circumstance, that the fourth Evangelist represents Jesus as
being immediately called to account, while his impunity in the other
case appears a natural consequence of the heightened consideration
which he had in the meantime won.

But allowing to these divergencies their full weight, the agreement
between the two narratives preponderates. We have in both the same
abuse, the same violent mode of checking it, by casting out (ἐκβάλλειν)
the people, and overthrowing (ἀναστρέφειν) the tables; nay, virtually,
the same language in justification of this procedure, for in John, as
well as in the other gospels, the words of Jesus contain a reference,
though not a verbally precise one, to Isa. lvi. 7; Jer. vii. 11. These
important points of resemblance must at least extort such an admission
as that of Sieffert, [1112] namely, that the two occurrences,
originally but little alike, were assimilated by tradition, the
features of the one being transferred to the other. But thus much seems
clear; the synoptists know as little of an earlier event of this kind,
as in fact of an earlier visit of Jesus to Jerusalem: and the fourth
Evangelist seems to have passed over the purification of the temple
after the last entrance of Jesus into the metropolis, not because he
presumed it to be already known from the other gospels, but because he
believed that he must give an early date to the sole act of the kind
with which he was acquainted. If then each of the Evangelists knew only
of one purification of the temple, we are not warranted either by the
slight divergencies in the description of the event, or by the
important difference in its chronological position, to suppose that
there were two; since chronological differences are by no means rare in
the gospels, and are quite natural in writings of traditional origin.
It is therefore with justice that our most modern interpreters have,
after the example of some older ones, declared themselves in favour of
the identity of the two histories. [1113]

On which side lies the error? We may know beforehand how the criticism
of the present day will decide on this question: namely, in favour of
the fourth gospel. According to Lücke, the scourge, the diversified
treatment of the different classes of traders, the more indirect
allusion to the Old Testament passage, are so many indications that the
writer was an eye and ear witness of the scene he describes; while as
to chronology, it is well known that this is in no degree regarded by
the synoptists, but only by John, whence, according to Sieffert, [1114]
to surrender the narrative of the latter to that of the former, would
be to renounce the certain for the uncertain. As to John’s dramatic
details, we may match them by a particular peculiar to Mark, And they
would not suffer that any man should carry any vessel through the
temple (v. 16), which besides has a support in the Jewish custom which
did not permit the court of the temple to be made a thoroughfare.
[1115] If, nevertheless, this particular is put to the account of
Mark’s otherwise ascertained predilection for arbitrary embellishment,
[1116] what authorizes us to regard similar artistic touches from the
fourth Evangelist, as necessary proofs of his having been an
eye-witness? To appeal here to his character of eye-witness as a
recognized fact, [1117] is too glaring a petitio principii, at least in
the point of view taken by a comparative criticism, in which the
decision as to whether the artistic details of the fourth Evangelist
are mere embellishments, must depend solely on intrinsic probability.
Although the different treatment of the different classes of men is in
itself a probable feature, and the freer allusion to the Old Testament
is at least an indifferent one; it is quite otherwise with the most
striking feature in the narrative of John. Origen has set the example
of objecting to the twisting and application of the scourge of small
cords, as far too violent and disorderly a procedure. [1118] Modern
interpreters soften the picture by supposing that Jesus used the
scourge merely against the cattle [1119] (a supposition, however,
opposed to the text, which represents all πάντας as being driven out by
the scourge); yet still they cannot avoid perceiving the use of a
scourge at all to be unseemly in a person of the dignity of Jesus, and
only calculated to aggravate the already tumultuary character of the
proceeding. [1120] The feature peculiar to Mark is encumbered with no
such difficulties, and while it is rejected, is this of John to be
received? Certainly not, if we can only find an indication in what way
the fourth Evangelist might be led to the free invention of such a
particular. Now it is evident from the quotation v. 17, which is
peculiar to him, that he looked on the act of Jesus as a demonstration
of holy zeal—a sufficient temptation to exaggerate the traits of
zealousness in his conduct.

In relation to the chronological difference, we need only remember how
the fourth Evangelist antedates the acknowledgment of Jesus as the
Messiah by the disciples, and the conferring of the name of Peter on
Simon, to be freed from the common assumption of his pre-eminent
chronological accuracy, which is alleged in favour of his position of
the purification of the temple. For this particular case, however, it
is impossible to show any reason why the occurrence in question would
better suit the time of the first than of the last passover visited by
Jesus, whereas there are no slight grounds for the opposite opinion. It
is true that nothing in relation to chronology is to be founded on the
improbability that Jesus should so early have referred to his death and
resurrection, as he must have done, according to John’s interpretation
of the saying about the destruction and rebuilding of the temple;
[1121] for we shall see, in the proper place, that this reference to
the death and resurrection, owes its introduction into the declaration
of Jesus to the Evangelist alone. But it is no inconsiderable argument
against John’s position of the event, that Jesus, with his prudence and
tact, would hardly have ventured thus early on so violent an exercise
of his messianic authority. [1122] For in that first period of his
ministry he had not given himself out as the Messiah, and under any
other than messianic authority, such a step could then scarcely have
been hazarded; moreover, he in the beginning rather chose to meet his
cotemporaries on friendly ground, and it is therefore hardly credible
that he should at once, without trying milder means, have adopted an
appearance so antagonistic. But to the last week of his life such a
scene is perfectly suited. Then, after his messianic entrance into
Jerusalem, it was his direct aim in all that he did and said, to assert
his messiahship, in defiance of the contradiction of his enemies; then,
all lay so entirely at stake, that nothing more was to be lost by such
a step.

As regards the nature of the event, Origen long ago thought it
incredible, that so great a multitude should have unresistingly
submitted to a single man,—one, too, whose claims had ever been
obstinately contested: his only resource in this exigency is to appeal
to the superhuman power of Jesus, by virtue of which he was able
suddenly to extinguish the wrath of his enemies, or to render it
impotent; and hence Origen ranks this expulsion among the greatest
miracles of Jesus. [1123] Modern expositors decline the miracle, [1124]
but Paulus is the only one among them who has adequately weighed
Origen’s remark, that in the ordinary course of things the multitude
would have opposed themselves to a single person. Whatever may be said
of the surprise caused by the suddenness of the appearance of Jesus
[1125] (if, as John relates, he made himself a scourge of cords, he
would need some time for preparation), of the force of right on his
side [1126] (on the side of those whom he attacked, however, there was
established usage); or, finally, of the irresistible impression
produced by the personality of Jesus [1127] (on usurers and
cattle-dealers—on brute men, as Paulus calls them?): still, such a
multitude, certain as it might be of the protection of the priesthood,
would not have unresistingly allowed themselves to be driven out of the
temple by a single man. Hence Paulus is of opinion that a number of
others, equally scandalized by the sacrilegious traffic, made common
cause with Jesus, and that to their united strength the buyers and
sellers were compelled to yield. [1128] But this supposition is fatal
to the entire incident, for it makes Jesus the cause of an open tumult;
and it is not easy either to reconcile this conduct with his usual
aversion to everything revolutionary, or to explain the omission of his
enemies to use it as an accusation against him. For that they held
themselves bound in conscience to admit that the conduct of Jesus was
justifiable in this case, is the less credible, since, according to a
rabbinical authority, [1129] the Jews appear to have been so far from
taking umbrage at the market in the court of the Gentiles (and this is
all we are to understand by the word ἱερὸν), [1130] that the absence of
it seemed to them like a melancholy desolation of the temple. According
to this, it is not surprising that Origen casts a doubt on the
historical value of this narrative, by the expression, εἴγε καὶ αὐτὴ
γεγένηται (if it really happened), and at most admits that the
Evangelist, in order to present an idea allegorically, καὶ γεγενημένῳ
συνέχρήσατο πράγματι (also borrowed the form of an actual occurrence).
[1131]

But in order to contest the reality of this history, in defiance of the
agreement of all the four Evangelists, the negative grounds hitherto
adduced must be seconded by satisfactory positive ones, from whence it
might be seen how the primitive Christian legend could be led to the
invention of such a scene, apart from any historical foundation. But
these appear to be wanting. For our only positive data in relation to
this occurrence are the passages cited by the synoptists from Isaiah
and Jeremiah, prohibiting that the temple should be made a den of
robbers; and the passage from Malachi iii. 1–3, according to which it
was expected that in the messianic times Jehovah would suddenly come to
his temple, that no one would stand before his appearing, and that he
would undertake a purification of the people and the worship. Certainly
these passages seem to have some bearing on the irresistible reforming
activity of Jesus in the temple, as described by our Evangelists; but
there is so little indication that they had reference in particular to
the market in the outer court of the temple, that it seems necessary to
suppose an actual opposition on the part of Jesus to this abuse, in
order to account for the fulfilment of the above prophecies by him
being represented under the form of an expulsion of buyers and sellers.

§ 89.

NARRATIVES OF THE ANOINTING OF JESUS BY A WOMAN.

An occasion on which Jesus was anointed by a woman as he sat at meat,
is mentioned by all the Evangelists (Matt. xxvi. 6 ff.; Mark xiv. 3
ff.; Luke vii. 36 ff.; John xii. 1 ff.), but with some divergencies,
the most important of which lie between Luke and the other three.
First, as to the chronology; Luke places the incident in the earlier
period of the life of Jesus, before his departure from Galilee, while
the other three assign it to the last week of his life; secondly, as to
the character of the woman who anoints Jesus: she is, according to
Luke, a woman who was a sinner, γυνὴ ἁμαρτωλὸς; according to the two
other synoptists, a person of unsullied reputation; according to John,
who is more precise, Mary of Bethany. From the second point of
difference it follows, that in Luke the objection of the spectators
turns on the admission of so infamous a person, in the other gospels,
on the wastefulness of the woman; from both, it follows, that Jesus in
his defence dwells, in the former, on the grateful love of the woman,
as contrasted with the haughty indifference of the Pharisees, in the
latter, on his approaching departure, in opposition to the constant
presence of the poor. There are yet the minor differences, that the
place in which the entertainment and the anointing occur, is by the two
first and the fourth Evangelists called Bethany, which according to
John xi. 1, was a κώμη (town), by Luke a πόλις (city), without any more
precise designation; further, that the objection, according to the
three former, proceeds from the disciples, according to Luke, from the
entertainer. Hence the majority of commentators distinguish two
anointings, of which one is narrated by Luke the other by the three
remaining Evangelists. [1132]

But it must be asked, if the reconciliation of Luke with the other
three Evangelists is despaired of, whether the agreement of the latter
amongst themselves is so decided, and whether we must not rather
proceed, from the distinction of two anointings, to the distinction of
three, or even four? To four certainly it will scarcely extend; for
Mark does not depart from Matthew, except in a few touches of his
well-known dramatic manner; but between these two Evangelists on the
one side, and John on the other, there are differences which may fairly
be compared with those between Luke and the rest. The first difference
relates to the house in which the entertainment is said to have been
given; according to the two first Evangelists, it was the house of
Simon the leper, a person elsewhere unnoticed; the fourth does not, it
is true, expressly name the host, but since he mentions Martha as the
person who waited on the guests, and her brother Lazarus as one of
those who sat at meat, there is no doubt that he intended to indicate
the house of the latter as the locality of the repast. [1133] Neither
is the time of the occurrence precisely the same, for according to
Matthew and Mark the scene takes place after the solemn entrance of
Jesus into Jerusalem, only two days at the utmost before the passover;
according to John, on the other hand, before the entrance, as early as
six days prior to the passover. [1134] Further, the individual whom
John states to be that Mary of Bethany so intimately united to Jesus,
is only known to the two first evangelists as a woman, γυνὴ; [1135]
neither do they represent her as being, like Mary, in the house, and
one of the host’s family, but as coming, one knows not whence, to
Jesus, while he reclined at table. Moreover, the act of anointing is in
the fourth gospel another than in the two first. In the latter, the
woman pours her ointment of spikenard on the head of Jesus; in John, on
the contrary, she anoints his feet, and dries them with her hair,
[1136] a difference which gives the whole scene a new character.
Lastly, the two synoptists are not aware that it was Judas who gave
utterance to the censure against the woman; Matthew attributing it to
the disciples, Mark, to the spectators generally. [1137]

Thus between the narrative of John, and that of Matthew and Mark, there
is scarcely less difference than between the account of these three
collectively, and that of Luke: whoever supposes two distinct
occurrences in the one case, must, to be consistent, do so in the
other; and thus, with Origen, hold, at least conditionally, that there
were three separate anointings. So soon, however, as this consequence
is more closely examined, it must create a difficulty, for how
improbable is it that Jesus should have been expensively anointed three
times, each time at a feast, each time by a woman, that woman being
always a different one; that moreover Jesus should, in each instance,
have had to defend the act of the woman against the censures of the
spectators! [1138] Above all, how is it to be conceived that after
Jesus, on one and even on two earlier occasions, had so decidedly given
his sanction to the honour rendered to him, the disciples, or one of
them, should have persisted in censuring it? [1139]

These considerations oblige us to think of reductions, and it is the
most natural to commence with the narratives of the two first
synoptists and of John, for these agree not only in the place, Bethany,
but also, generally, in the time of the event, the last week of the
life of Jesus; above all, the censure and the reply are nearly the same
on both sides. In connexion with these similarities the differences
lose their importance, partly from the improbability that an incident
of this kind should be repeated; partly from the probability, that in
the traditional propagation of the anecdote such divergencies should
have insinuated themselves. But if in this case the identity of the
occurrences be admitted, in consideration of the similarities, and in
spite of the dissimilarities; then, on the other hand, the divergencies
peculiar to the narrative of Luke can no longer hinder us from
pronouncing it to be identical with that of the three other
Evangelists, provided that there appear to be only a few important
points of resemblance between the two. And such really exist, for Luke
now strikingly accords with Matthew and Mark, in opposition to John:
now, with the latter, in opposition to the former. Luke gives the
entertainer the same name as the two first synoptists, namely, Simon,
the only difference being, that the former calls him a Pharisee, while
the latter style him the leper. Again, Luke agrees with the other
synoptists in opposition to John, in representing the woman who anoints
Jesus as a nameless individual, not belonging to the house; and
further, in making her appear with a box of ointment, ἀλάβαστρον μύρου,
while John speaks only of a pound of ointment, λίτρα μύρου, without
specifying the vessel. On the other hand, Luke coincides in a
remarkable manner with John, and differs from the two other
Evangelists, as to the mode of the anointing. While, namely, according
to the latter, the ointment is poured on the head of Jesus, according
to Luke, the woman, who was a sinner, as, according to John, Mary,
anoints the feet of Jesus; and even the striking particular, that she
dried them with her hair, [1140] is given by both in nearly the same
words; excepting that in Luke, where the woman is described as a
sinner, it is added that she bathed the feet of Jesus with her tears,
and kissed them. Thus, without doubt, we have here but one history
under three various forms; and this seems to have been the real
conclusion of Origen, as well as recently of Schleiermacher.

In this state of the case, the effort is to escape as cheaply as
possible, and to save the divergencies of the several Evangelists at
least from the appearance of contradiction. First, with regard to the
differences between the two first Evangelists and the last, it has been
attempted to reconcile the discrepant dates by the supposition, that
the meal at Bethany was held really, as John informs us, six days
before Easter; but that Matthew, after whom Mark wrote, has no
contradictory date; that rather he has no date at all; for though he
inserts the narrative of the meal and the anointing after the
declaration of Jesus, that after two days is the feast of the Passover,
ὅτι μετὰ δύο ἡμέρας τὸ πάσχα γίνεται, this does not prove that he
intended to place it later as to time, for it is probable that he gave
it this position simply because he wished to note here, before coming
to the betrayal by Judas, the occasion on which the traitor first
embraced his black resolve, namely, the repast at which he was incensed
by Mary’s prodigality, and embittered by the rebuke of Jesus. [1141]
But in opposition to this, modern criticism has shown that, on the one
hand, in the mild and altogether general reply of Jesus there could lie
nothing personally offensive to Judas; and that, on the other hand, the
two first gospels do not name Judas as the party who censured the
anointing, but the disciples or the bystanders generally: whereas, if
they had noted this scene purely because it was the motive for the
treachery of Judas, they must have especially pointed out the
manifestation of his feeling. [1142] There remains, consequently, a
chronological contradiction in this instance between the two first
synoptists and John: a contradiction which even Olshausen admits.
[1143]

It has been attempted in a variety of ways to evade the farther
difference as to the person of the host. As Matthew and Mark speak only
of the house of Simon the leper, οἰκία Σίμωνος τοῦ λεπροῦ, some have
distinguished the owner of the house, Simon, from the giver of the
entertainment, who doubtless was Lazarus, and have supposed that hence,
in both cases without error, the fourth Evangelist mentions the latter,
the two first synoptists the former. [1144] But who would distinguish
an entertainment by the name of the householder, if he were not in any
way the giver of the entertainment? Again, since John does not
expressly call Lazarus the host, but merely one of the συνανακειμένων
(those sitting at the table), and since the inference that he was the
host is drawn solely from the circumstance that his sister Martha
served, διηκόνει; others have regarded Simon as the husband of Martha,
either separated on account of his leprosy, or already deceased, and
have supposed that Lazarus then resided with his widowed sister: [1145]
an hypothesis which it is more easy to reconcile with the narratives
than the former, but which is unsupported by any certain information.

We come next to the divergency relative to the mode of anointing;
according to the two first Evangelists, the ointment was poured on the
head of Jesus; according to the fourth, on his feet. The old, trivial
mode of harmonizing the two statements, by supposing that both the head
and the feet were anointed, has recently been expanded into the
conjecture that Mary indeed intended only to anoint the feet of Jesus
(John), but as she accidentally broke the vessel (συντρίψασα, Mark),
the ointment flowed over his head also (Matt.). [1146] This attempt at
reconciliation falls into the comic, for as we cannot imagine how a
woman who was preparing to anoint the feet of Jesus could bring the
vessel of ointment over his head, we must suppose that the ointment
spirted upwards like an effervescing draught. So that here also the
contradiction remains, and not only between Matthew and John, where it
is admitted even by Schneckenburger, but also between the latter
Evangelist and Mark.

The two divergencies relative to the person of the woman who anoints
Jesus, and to the party who blames her, were thought to be the most
readily explained. That what John ascribes to Judas singly, Matthew and
Mark refer to all the disciples or spectators, was believed to be
simply accounted for by the supposition, that while the rest manifested
their disapprobation by gestures only, Judas vented his in words.
[1147] We grant that the word ἔλεγον (they said), preceded as it is in
Mark by the words ἀγανακτοῦντες πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς (having indignation within
themselves), and followed, as in Matthew, by the words γνοὺς δὲ ὁ
Ἰησοῦς (but Jesus knowing), does not necessarily imply that all the
disciples gave audible expression to their feelings; as, however, the
two first Evangelists immediately after this meal narrate the betrayal
by Judas, they would certainly have named the traitor on the above
occasion, had he, to their knowledge, made himself conspicuous in
connection with the covetous blame which the woman’s liberality drew
forth. That John particularizes the woman, whose name is not given by
the synoptists, as Mary of Bethany, is, in the ordinary view, only an
example how the fourth Evangelist supplies the omissions of his
predecessors. [1148] But as the two first synoptists attach so much
importance to the deed of the woman, that they make Jesus predict the
perpetuation of her memory on account of it—a particular which John has
not—they would assuredly have also given her name had they known it; so
that in any case we may conclude thus much: they knew not who the woman
was, still less did they conceive her to be Mary of Bethany.

Thus if the identity only of the last Evangelist’s narrative with that
of the two first be acknowledged, it must be confessed that we have, on
the one side or the other, an account which is inaccurate, and
disfigured by tradition. It is, however, not only between these, but
also between Luke and his fellow Evangelists collectively, that they
who suppose only one incident to be the foundation of their narratives,
seek to remove as far as possible the appearance of contradiction.
Schleiermacher, whose highest authority is John, but who will on no
account renounce Luke, comes in this instance, when the two so widely
diverge, into a peculiar dilemma, from which he must have thought that
he could extricate himself with singular dexterity, since he has not
evaded it, as he does others of a similar kind, by the supposition of
two fundamental occurrences. It is true that he finds himself
constrained to concede, in favour of John, that Luke’s informant could
not in this case have been an eyewitness; whence minor divergencies, as
for instance those relative to the locality, are to be explained. On
the other hand, the apparently important differences that, according to
Luke, the woman is a sinner, according to John, Mary of Bethany; that
according to the former, the host, according to the latter, the
disciples, make objections; and that the reply of Jesus is in the
respective narrations totally different—these, in Schleiermacher’s
opinion, have their foundation in the fact that the occurrence may be
regarded from two points of view. The one aspect of the occurrence is
the murmuring of the disciples, and this is given by Matthew; the
other, namely, the relations of Jesus with the pharisaic host, is
exhibited by Luke; and John confirms both representations. The most
decided impediment to the reconciliation of Luke with the other
evangelists, his designation of the woman as a sinner, ἁμαρτωλὸς,
Schleiermacher invalidates, by calling it a false inference of the
narrator from the address of Jesus to Mary, Thy sins are forgiven thee,
ἀφέωνταί σοι αἱ ἁμαρτίαι. This Jesus might say to Mary in allusion to
some error, unknown to us, but such as the purest are liable to,
without compromising her reputation with the spectators, who were well
acquainted with her character; and it was only the narrator who
erroneously concluded from the above words of Jesus, and from his
further discourse, that the woman concerned was a sinner in the
ordinary sense of the word, whence he has incorrectly amplified the
thoughts of the host, v. 39. [1149] It is not, however, simply of sins,
ἁμαρτίαι, but of many sins, πολλαῖ ἁμαρτίαι, that Jesus speaks in
relation to the woman; and if this also be an addition of the narrator,
to be rejected as such because it is inconsistent with the character of
Mary of Bethany, then has the entire speech of Jesus from v. 40–48,
which turns on the opposition between forgiving and loving little and
much, been falsified or misrepresented by the Evangelist: and on the
side of Luke especially, it is in vain to attempt to harmonize the
discordant narratives.

If, then, the four narratives can be reconciled only by the supposition
that several of them have undergone important traditional
modifications: the question is, which of them is the nearest to the
original fact? That modern critics should unanimously decide in favour
of John, cannot surprise us after our previous observations; and as
little can the nature of the reasoning by which their judgment is
supported. The narrative of John, say they (reasoning in a circle),
being that of an eye-witness, must be at once supposed the true one,
[1150] and this conclusion is sometimes rested for greater security on
the false premiss, that the more circumstantial and dramatic narrator
is the more accurate reporter—the eye-witness. [1151] The breaking of
the box of ointment, in Mark, although a dramatic particular, is
readily rejected as a mere embellishment; but does not John’s statement
of the quantity of spikenard as a pound, border on exaggeration? and
ought not the extravagance which Olshausen, in relation to this
disproportionate consumption of ointment, attributes to Mary’s love, to
be rather referred to the Evangelist’s imagination, which would then
also have the entire credit of the circumstance, that the house was
filled with the odour of the ointment? It is worthy of notice, that the
estimate of the value of the perfume at 300 denarii, is given by John
and Mark alone; as also at the miraculous feeding of the multitude, it
is these two Evangelists who rate the necessary food at 200 denarii. If
Mark only had this close estimate, how quickly would it be pronounced,
at least by Schleiermacher, a gratuitous addition of the narrator! What
then is it that, in the actual state of the case, prevents the
utterance of this opinion, even as a conjecture, but the prejudice in
favour of the fourth gospel? Even the anointing of the head, which is
attested by two of the synoptists, is, because John mentions the feet
instead of the head, rejected as unusual, and incompatible with the
position of Jesus at a meal: [1152] whereas the anointing of the feet
with precious oil was far less usual; and this the most recent
commentator on the fourth gospel admits. [1153]

But peculiar gratitude is rendered to the eye-witness John, because he
has rescued from oblivion the names, both of the anointing woman, and
of the censorious disciple. [1154] It has been supposed that the
synoptists did in fact know the name of the woman, but withheld it from
the apprehension that danger might possibly accrue to the family of
Lazarus, while John, writing later, was under no such restraint; [1155]
but this expedient rests on mere assumptions. Our former conclusion
therefore subsists, namely, that the earlier Evangelists knew nothing
of the name of the woman; and the question arises, how was this
possible? Jesus having expressly promised immortal renown to the deed
of the woman, the tendency must arise to perpetuate her name also, and
if this were identical with the known and oft-repeated name of Mary of
Bethany, it is not easy to understand how the association of the deed
and the name could be lost in tradition, and the woman who anointed
Jesus become nameless. It is perhaps still more incomprehensible,
supposing the covetous blame cast upon the woman to have been really
uttered by him who proved the betrayer, that this should be forgotten
in tradition, and the expression of blame attributed to the disciples
generally. When a fact is narrated of a person otherwise unknown, or
even when the person being known, the fact does not obviously accord
with his general character, it is natural that the name should be lost
in tradition; but when the narrated word or work of a person agrees so
entirely with his known character, as does the covetous and
hypocritical blame in question with the character of the traitor, it is
difficult to suppose that the legend would sever it from his name.
Moreover, the history in which this blame occurs, verges so nearly on
the moment of the betrayal (especially according to the position given
to it by the two first Evangelists), that had the blame really
proceeded from Judas, the two facts would have been almost inevitably
associated. Nay, even if that expression of latent cupidity had not
really belonged to Judas, there must have been a temptation eventually
to ascribe it to him, as a help to the delineation of his character,
and to the explanation of his subsequent treachery. Thus the case is
reversed, and the question is whether, instead of praising John that he
has preserved to us this precise information, we ought not rather to
give our approbation to the synoptists, that they have abstained from
so natural but unhistorical a combination. We can arrive at no other
conclusion with respect to the designation of the woman who anoints
Jesus as Mary of Bethany. On the one hand, it is inconceivable that the
deed, if originally hers, should be separated from her celebrated name;
on the other, the legend, in the course of its development, might
naturally come to attribute to one whose spiritual relations with Jesus
had, according to the third and fourth gospels, early obtained great
celebrity in the primitive church, an act of devoted love towards him,
which originally belonged to another and less known person.

But from another side also we find ourselves induced to regard the
narratives of Matthew and Mark, who give no name to the woman, rather
than that of John, who distinguishes her as Mary of Bethany, as the
parent stem of the group of anecdotes before us. Our position of the
identity of all the four narratives must, to be tenable, enable us also
to explain how Luke’s representation of the facts could arise. Now,
supposing the narrative of John to be the nearest to the truth, it is
not a little surprising that in the legend, the anointing woman should
doubly descend from the highly honoured Mary, sister of Lazarus, to an
unknown, nameless individual, and thence even to a notorious sinner; it
appears far more natural to give the intermediate position to the
indifferent statement of the synoptists, out of whose equivocal
nameless woman might equally be made, either in an ascending scale, a
Mary; or, in a descending one, a sinner.

The possibility of the first transformation has been already shown: it
must next be asked, where could be an inducement, without historical
grounds, gradually to invest the anointing woman with the character of
a sinner? In the narrative itself our only clue is a feature which the
two first synoptists have not, but which John has in common with Luke;
namely, that the woman anointed the feet of Jesus. To the fourth
Evangelist, this tribute of feeling appeared in accordance with the
sensitive, devoted nature of Mary, whom he elsewhere also (xi. 32),
represents as falling at the feet of Jesus; but by another it might be
taken, as by Luke, for the gesture of contrition; an idea which might
favour the conception of the woman as a sinner—might favour, we say,
not cause: for a cause, we must search elsewhere.

§ 90.

THE NARRATIVES OF THE WOMAN TAKEN IN ADULTERY, AND OF MARY AND MARTHA.

In the Gospel of John (viii. 1–11), the Pharisees and scribes bring a
woman taken in adultery to Jesus, that they may obtain his opinion as
to the procedure to be observed against her; whereupon Jesus, by
appealing to the consciences of the accusers, liberates the woman, and
dismisses her with an admonition. The genuineness of this passage has
been strongly contested, nay, its spuriousness might be regarded as
demonstrated, were it not that even the most thorough investigations on
the subject [1156] indirectly betray a design, which Paulus openly
avows, of warding off the dangerous surmises as to the origin of the
fourth gospel, which are occasioned by the supposition that this
passage, encumbered as it is with improbabilities, is a genuine portion
of that gospel. For in the first place, the scribes say to Jesus: Moses
in the law commanded us that such should be stoned: now in no part of
the Pentateuch is this punishment prescribed for adultery, but simply
death, the mode of inflicting it being left undetermined (Lev. xx. 10;
Deut. xxii. 22); nor was stoning for adultery a latter institution of
the Talmud, for according to the canon: omne mortis supplicium, in
scripturâ absolute positum esse strangulationem, [1157] the punishment
appointed for this offence in the Talmud is strangulation. [1158]
Further, it is difficult to discover what there was to ensnare Jesus in
the question proposed to him; [1159] the scribes quoted to him the
commandment of the law, as if they would warn him, rather than tempt
him, for they could not expect that he would decide otherwise than
agreeably to the law. Again, the decision of Jesus is open to the
stricture, that if only he who is conscious of perfect purity were
authorized to judge and punish, all social order would be at an end.
The circumstance of Jesus writing on the ground has a legendary and
mystical air, for even if it be not correctly explained by the gloss of
Jerome: eorum videlicet, qui accusabant, et omnium mortalium peccata,
it yet seems to imply something more mysterious than a mere
manifestation of contempt for the accusers. Lastly, it is scarcely
conceivable that every one of those men who dragged the woman before
Jesus, zealous for the law, and adverse to his cause as they are
supposed to be, should have had so tender a conscience, as on the
appeal of Jesus to retire without prosecuting their design, and leave
the woman behind them uninjured; this rather appears to belong merely
to the legendary or poetical embellishment of the scene. Yet however
improbable it may appear, from these observations, that the occurrence
happened precisely as it is here narrated, this, as Bretschneider
justly maintains, [1160] proves nothing against the genuineness of the
passage, since it is arguing in a circle to assume the apostolic
composition of the fourth gospel, and the consequent impossibility that
a narrative containing contradictions should form a portion of it,
prior to an examination of its several parts. Nevertheless, on the
other hand, the absence of the passage in the oldest authorities is so
suspicious, that a decision on the subject cannot be hazarded.

In any case, the narrative of an interview between Jesus and a woman of
the above character must be very ancient, since, according to Eusebius,
it was found in the Gospel of the Hebrews, and in the writings of
Papias. [1161] It was long thought that the woman mentioned in the
Hebrew gospel and by Papias was identical with the adulteress in John;
but against this it has been justly observed, that one who had the
reproach of many sins, must be distinct from her who was detected in
the one act of adultery. [1162] I wonder, however, that no one has, to
my knowledge, thought, in connexion with the passage of Eusebius, of
the woman in Luke of whom Jesus says that her many sins, ἁμαρτίαι
πολλαὶ, are forgiven. It is true that the word διαβληθείσης does not
fully agree with this idea, for Luke does not speak of actual
expressions of the Pharisee in disparagement of the woman, but merely
of the unfavourable thoughts which he had concerning her; and in this
respect the passage in Eusebius would agree better with the narrative
of John, which has an express denunciation, a διαβάλλειν.

Thus we are led on external grounds, by the doubt whether an ancient
notice refer to the one or the other of the two narratives, to a
perception of their affinity, [1163] which is besides evident from
internal reasons. In both we have a woman, a sinner, before Jesus; in
both, this woman is regarded with an evil eye by Pharisaic
sanctimoniousness, but is taken into protection by Jesus, and dismissed
with a friendly πορεύου, go. These were precisely the features, the
origin of which we could not understand in the narrative of Luke,
viewed as a mere variation of the history of the anointing given by the
other Evangelists. Now, what is more natural than to suppose that they
were transferred into Luke’s history of the anointing, from that of the
forgiven sinner? If the Christian legend possessed, on the one side, a
woman who had anointed Jesus, who was on this account reproached, but
was defended by Jesus; and on the other side a woman who was accused
before him of many sins, but whom he pardoned; how easily, aided by the
idea of an anointing of the feet of Jesus, which bears the
interpretation of an act of penitence, might the two histories flow
together—the anointing woman become also a sinner, and the sinner also
an anointer? Then, that the scene of the pardon was an entertainment,
was a feature also drawn from the history of the anointing: the
entertainer must be a Pharisee, because the accusation of the woman
ought to proceed from a Pharisaic party, and because, as we have seen,
Luke has a predilection for Pharisaic entertainments. Lastly, the
discourse of Jesus may have been borrowed, partly from the original
narrative of the woman who was a sinner, partly from analogous
occasions. If these conjectures be correct, the narratives are
preserved unmixed, on the one hand, by the two first Evangelists; on
the other, by the fourth, or whoever was the author of the passage on
the adulteress; for if the latter contains much that is legendary, it
is at least free from any admixture of the history of the anointing.

Having thus accounted for one modification of the narrative concerning
the anointing woman, namely, her degradation into a sinner, by the
influence of another and somewhat similar anecdote, which was current
in the first age of Christianity, we may proceed to consider,
experimentally, whether a like external influence may not have helped
to produce the opposite modification of the unknown into Mary of
Bethany: a modification which, for the rest, we have already seen to be
easy of explanation. Such an influence could only proceed from the sole
notice of Mary (with the exception of her appearance at the
resurrection of Lazarus) which has been preserved to us, and which is
rendered memorable by the declaration of Jesus, One thing is needful,
and Mary hath chosen, etc. (Luke x. 38 ff.). We have, in fact, here as
well as there, Martha occupied in serving (John xii. 2, καὶ ἡ Μάρθα
διηκόνει; Luke x. 40, ἡ δὲ Μάρθα περιεσπᾶτο περὶ πολλὴν διακονίαν);
here, Mary sitting at the feet of Jesus, there, anointing his feet;
here, blamed by her sister, there by Judas, for her useless conduct,
and in both cases, defended by Jesus. It is surely unavoidable to say,
if once the narrative of the anointing of Jesus by a woman were current
together with that of Mary and Martha, it was very natural, from the
numerous points of resemblance between them, that they should be
blended in the legend, or by some individual, into one story; that the
unknown woman who anointed the feet of Jesus, who was blamed by the
spectators, and vindicated by Jesus, should be changed into Mary, whom
tradition had depicted in a similar situation; the task of serving at
the meal with which the anointing was connected attributed to Mary’s
sister, Martha; and finally, her brother Lazarus made a partaker of the
meal:—so that here the narrative of Luke on the one side, and that of
the two synoptists on the other, appear to be pure anecdotes, that of
John a mixed one.

Further, in Luke’s narrative of the visit of Jesus to the two sisters,
there is no mention of Lazarus, with whom, however, according to John
(xi. and xii.), Mary and Martha appear to have dwelt; nay, Luke speaks
precisely as if the presence or existence of this brother, whom indeed
neither he nor either of the other synoptists anywhere notices, were
entirely unknown to him. For had he known anything of Lazarus, or had
he thought of him as present, he could not have said: A certain woman,
named Martha, received him into her house; he must at least have named
her brother also, especially as, according to John, the latter was an
intimate friend of Jesus. This silence is remarkable, and commentators
have not succeeded in finding a better explanation of it than that
given in the Natural History of the Prophet of Nazareth, where the
shortly subsequent death of Lazarus is made available for the
supposition that he was, about the time of that visit of Jesus, on a
journey for the benefit of his health. [1164] Not less striking is
another point relative to the locality of this scene. According to
John, Mary and Martha dwelt in Bethany, a small town in the immediate
vicinity of Jerusalem; whereas Luke, when speaking of the visit of
Jesus to these sisters, only mentions a certain town, κώμην τινὰ, which
is thought, however, to be easily reconciled with the statement of
John, by the observation, that Luke assigns the visit to the journey of
Jesus to Jerusalem, and to one travelling thither out of Galilee,
Bethany would lie in the way. But it would lie quite at the end of this
way, so that the visit of Jesus must fall at the close of his journey,
whereas Luke places it soon after the departure out of Galilee, and
separates it from the entrance into Jerusalem by a multitude of
incidents filling eight entire chapters. Thus much then is clear: the
author or editor of the third gospel was ignorant that that visit was
paid in Bethany, or that Mary and Martha dwelt there, and it is only
that Evangelist who represents Mary as the anointing woman, who also
names Bethany as the home of Mary: the same place where, according to
the two first synoptists, the anointing occurred. If Mary were once
made identical with the anointing woman, and if the anointing were
known to have happened in Bethany, it would naturally follow that this
town would be represented as Mary’s home. Hence it is probable that the
anointing woman owes her name to the current narrative of the visit of
Jesus to Martha and Mary, and that Mary owes her home to the narrative
of the meal at Bethany.

We should thus have a group of five histories, among which the
narrative given by the two first synoptists of the anointing of Jesus
by a woman, would form the centre, that in John of the adulteress, and
that in Luke of Mary and Martha, the extremes, while the anointing by
the sinner in Luke, and that by Mary in John, would fill the
intermediate places. It is true that all the five narratives might with
some plausibility be regarded as varied editions of one historical
incident; but from the essential dissimilarity between the three to
which I have assigned the middle and extreme places, I am rather of
opinion that these are each founded on a special incident, but that the
two intermediate narratives are secondary formations which owe their
existence to the intermixture of the primary ones by tradition.

CHAPTER IX.

MIRACLES OF JESUS.

§ 91.

JESUS CONSIDERED AS A WORKER OF MIRACLES.

That the Jewish people in the time of Jesus expected miracles from the
Messiah is in itself natural, since the Messiah was a second Moses and
the greatest of the prophets, and to Moses and the prophets the
national legend attributed miracles of all kinds: by later Jewish
writings it is rendered probable; [1165] by our gospels, certain. When
Jesus on one occasion had (without natural means) cured a blind and
dumb demoniac, the people were hereby led to ask: Is not this the son
of David? (Matt. xii. 23), a proof that a miraculous power of healing
was regarded as an attribute of the Messiah. John the Baptist, on
hearing of the works of Jesus (ἔργα), sent to him with the inquiry, Art
thou he that should come (ἐρχόμενος)? Jesus, in proof of the
affirmative, merely appealed again to his miracles (Matt. xi. 2 ff.
parall.). At the Feast of Tabernacles, which was celebrated by Jesus in
Jerusalem, many of the people believed on him, saying, in justification
of their faith, When Christ cometh, will he do more miracles than these
which this man hath done? (John vii. 31).

But not only was it predetermined in the popular expectation that the
Messiah should work miracles in general,—the particular kinds of
miracles which he was to perform were fixed, also in accordance with
Old Testament types and declarations. Moses dispensed meat and drink to
the people in a supernatural manner (Exod. xvi. 17): the same was
expected, as the rabbins explicitly say, from the Messiah. At the
prayer of Elisha, eyes were in one case closed, in another, opened
supernaturally (2 Kings vi.): the Messiah also was to open the eyes of
the blind. By this prophet and his master, even the dead had been
raised (1 Kings xvii.; 2 Kings iv.): hence to the Messiah also power
over death could not be wanting. [1166] Among the prophecies, Isa.
xxxv. 5, 6 (comp. xlii. 7) was especially influential in forming this
portion of the messianic idea. It is here said of the messianic times:
Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the deaf
unstopped; then shall the lame man leap as a hart, and the tongue of
the dumb shall sing. These words, it is true, stand in Isaiah in a
figurative connexion, but they were early understood literally, as is
evident from the circumstance that Jesus describes his miracles to the
messengers of John (Matt. xi. 5) with an obvious allusion to this
prophetic passage.

Jesus, in so far as he had given himself out and was believed to be the
Messiah, or even merely a prophet, had to meet this expectation when,
according to several passages already considered (Matt. xii. 38, xvi.
1, parall.), his Pharisaic enemies required a sign from him; when,
after the violent expulsion of the traders and money-changers from the
temple, the Jews desired from him a sign that should legitimate such an
assumption of authority (John ii. 18); and when the people in the
synagogue at Capernaum, on his requiring faith in himself as the sent
of God, made it a condition of this faith that he should show them a
sign (John vi. 30).

According to the gospels, Jesus more than satisfied this demand made by
his cotemporaries on the Messiah. Not only does a considerable part of
the evangelical narratives consist of descriptions of his miracles; not
only did his disciples after his death especially call to their own
remembrance and to that of the Jews the δυνάμεις (miracles) σημεῖα
(signs) and τέρατα (wonders) wrought by him (Acts ii. 22; comp. Luke
xxiv. 19): but the people also were, even during his life, so well
satisfied with this aspect of his character that many believed on him
in consequence (John ii. 23; comp. vi. 2), contrasted him with the
Baptist who gave no sign (John x. 41), and even believed that he would
not be surpassed in this respect by the future Messiah (John vii. 31).
The above demands of a sign do not appear to prove that Jesus had
performed no miracles, especially as several of them occur immediately
after important miracles, e.g. after the cure of a demoniac, Matt. xii.
38; and after the feeding of the five thousand, John vi. 30. This
position indeed creates a difficulty, for how the Jews could deny to
these two acts the character of proper signs it is not easy to
understand; the power of expelling demons, in particular, being rated
very highly (Luke x. 17). The sign demanded on these two occasions must
therefore be more precisely defined according to Luke xi. 16 (comp.
Matt xvi. 1; Mark viii. 11), as a sign from heaven, σημεῖον ἐξ οὐρανοῦ,
and we must understand it to be the specifically messianic sign of the
Son of Man in heaven, σημεῖον τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ (Matt.
xxiv. 30). If however it be preferred to sever the connexion between
these demands of a sign and the foregoing miracles, it is possible that
Jesus may have wrought numerous miracles, and yet that some hostile
Pharisees, who had not happened to be eyewitnesses of any of them, may
still have desired to see one for themselves.

That Jesus censures the seeking for miracles (John iv. 48) and refuses
to comply with any one of the demands for a sign, does not in itself
prove that he might not have voluntarily worked miracles in other
cases, when they appeared to him to be more seasonable. When in
relation to the demand of the Pharisees, Mark viii. 12, he declares
that there shall be no sign given to this generation τῇ γενεᾷ ταύτῇ, or
Matt xii. 39 f., xvi. 4; Luke xi. 29 f., that there shall no sign be
given to it but the sign of Jonah the prophet, it would appear that by
this generation, γενεὰ, which in Matthew and Luke he characterizes as
evil and adulterous, he could only mean the Pharisaic part of his
cotemporaries who were hostile to him, and that he intended to declare,
that to these should be granted either no sign at all, or merely the
sign of Jonas, that is, as he interprets it in Matthew, the miracle of
his resurrection, or as modern expositors think, the impressive
manifestation of his person and teaching. But if we take the words οὐ
δοθήσεται αὐτῇ in the sense that his enemies were to obtain no sign
from him, we encounter two difficulties: on the one hand, things must
have chanced singularly if among the many miracles wrought by Jesus in
the greatest publicity, not one fell under the observation of Pharisees
(moreover Matt. xii. 24 f. parall. contradicts this, for there
Pharisees are plainly supposed to be present at the cure of the blind
and dumb demoniac): on the other hand, if signs personally witnessed
are here intended, the enemies of Jesus certainly did not see his
resurrection, or his person after he was risen. Hence the above
declaration cannot well mean merely that his enemies should be excluded
from an actual sight of his miracles. There is yet another expedient,
namely, to suppose that the expression οὐ δοθήσεται αὐτῇ refers to a
sign which should conduce to the good of the subject of which it is
predicated: but all the miracles of Jesus happened equally with his
original mission and his resurrection at once for the benefit of that
subject and the contrary, namely, in their object for its benefit, in
their result not so. Nothing therefore remains but to understand the
γενεὰ of the cotemporaries of Jesus generally, and the δίδοσθαι to
refer to observation generally, mediate or immediate: so that thus
Jesus would appear to have here repudiated the working of miracles in
general.

This is not very consistent with the numerous narratives of miracles in
the gospels, but it accords fully with the fact that in the preaching
and epistles of the apostles, a couple of general notices excepted
(Acts ii. 22, x. 38 f.), the miracles of Jesus appear to be unknown,
and everything is built on his resurrection: on which the remark may be
ventured that it could neither have been so unexpected nor could it
have formed so definite an epoch, if Jesus had previously raised more
than one dead person, and had wrought the most transcendent miracles of
all kinds. This then is the question: Ought we, on account of the
evangelical narratives of miracles, to explain away that expression of
Jesus, or doubt its authenticity; or ought we not, rather, on the
strength of that declaration, and the silence of the apostolic
writings, to become distrustful of the numerous histories of miracles
in the gospels?

This can only be decided by a close examination of these narratives,
among which, for a reason that will be obvious hereafter, we give the
precedence to the expulsions of demons.

§ 92.

THE DEMONIACS, CONSIDERED GENERALLY.

While in the fourth gospel, the expressions δαιμόνιον ἔχειν to have a
demon, and δαιμονιζόμενος, being a demoniac, appear nowhere except in
the accusations of the Jews against Jesus, and as parallels to
μαίνεσθαι, to be mad (viii. 48 f., x. 20 f.; comp. Mark iii. 22, 30;
Matt. xi. 18), the synoptists may be said to represent demoniacs as the
most frequent objects of the curative powers of Jesus. When they
describe the commencement of his ministry in Galilee, they give the
demoniacs δαιμονιζομένους [1167] a prominent place among the sufferers
whom Jesus healed (Matt iv. 24; Mark i. 34), and in all their summary
notices of the ministry of Jesus in certain districts, demoniacs play a
chief part (Matt. viii. 16 f.; Mark i. 39, iii. 11 f.; Luke vi. 18).
The power to cast out devils is before anything else imparted by Jesus
to his disciples (Matt. x. 1, 8; Mark iii. 15, vi. 7; Luke ix. 1), who
to their great joy succeed in using it according to their wishes (Luke
x. 17, 20; Mark vi. 13).

Besides these summary notices, however, several cures of demoniacs are
narrated to us in detail, so that we can form a tolerably accurate idea
of their peculiar condition. In the one whose cure in the synagogue at
Capernaum is given by the Evangelists as the first of this kind (Mark
i. 23 ff.; Luke iv. 33 ff.), we find, on the one hand, a disturbance of
the self-consciousness, causing the possessed individuals to speak in
the person of the demon, which appears also in other demoniacs, as for
example, the Gadarenes (Matt. viii. 29 f. parall.); on the other hand,
spasms and convulsions with savage cries. This spasmodic state has, in
the demoniac who is also called a lunatic (Matt. xvii. 14 ff. parall.),
reached the stage of manifest epilepsy; for sudden falls, often in
dangerous places, cries, gnashing of the teeth, and foaming, are known
symptoms of that malady. [1168] The other aspect of the demoniacal
state, namely, the disturbance of the self-consciousness, amounts in
the demoniac of Gadara, by whose lips a demon, or rather a plurality of
these evil spirits, speaks as a subject, to misanthropic madness, with
attacks of maniacal fury against himself and others. [1169] Moreover,
not only the insane and epileptic, but the dumb (Matt. ix. 32; Luke xi.
14; Matt. xii. 22, the dumb demoniac is also blind) and those suffering
from a gouty contraction of the body (Luke xiii. 11 ff.), are by the
evangelists designated more or less precisely as demoniacs.

The idea of these sufferers presupposed in the gospels and shared by
their authors, is that a wicked, unclean spirit (δαιμόνιον, πνεῦμα
ἀκάθαρτον), or several have taken possession of them (hence their
condition is described by the expressions δαιμόνιον ἔχειν,
δαιμονίζεσθαι, to have a demon, to be a demoniac), speak through their
organs (thus Matt. viii. 31, οἱ δαίμονες παρεκάλουν αὐτὸν λέγοντες),
and put their limbs in motion at pleasure (thus Mark ix. 20, τὸ πνεῦμα
ἐσπάραξεν αὐτὸν), until, forcibly expelled by a cure, they depart from
the patient (ἐκβάλλειν, ἐξέρχεσθαι). According to the representation of
the Evangelists, Jesus also held this view of the matter. It is true
that when, as a means of liberating the possessed, he addresses the
demons within them (as in Mark ix. 25; Matt. viii. 32; Luke iv. 35), we
might with Paulus [1170] regard this as a mode of entering into the
fixed idea of these more or less insane persons, it being the part of a
physical physician, if he would produce any effect, to accommodate
himself to this idea, however strongly he may in reality be convinced
of its groundlessness. But this is not all; Jesus, even in his private
conversations with his disciples, not only says nothing calculated to
undermine the notion of demoniacal possession, but rather speaks
repeatedly on a supposition of its truth; as e.g. in Matt. x. 8, where
he gives the commission, Cast out devils; in Luke x. 18 ff.; and
especially in Matt. xvii. 21, parall., where he says, This kind goeth
not out but by prayer and fasting. Again, in a purely theoretical
discourse, perhaps also in the more intimate circle of his disciples,
Jesus gives a description quite accordant with the idea of his
cotemporaries of the departure of the unclean spirit, his wandering in
the wilderness, and his return with a reinforcement (Matt. xii. 43
ff.). With these facts before us, the attempt made by generally
unprejudiced inquirers, such as Winer, [1171] to show that Jesus did
not share the popular opinion on demoniacal possession, but merely
accommodated his language to their understanding, appears to us a mere
adjustment of his ideas by our own. A closer examination of the
last-mentioned passage will suffice to remove every thought of a mere
accommodation on the part of Jesus. It is true that commentators have
sought to evade all that is conclusive in this passage, by interpreting
it figuratively, or even as a parable, [1172] in every explanation of
which (if we set aside such as that given by Olshausen [1173] after
Calmet), the essential idea is, that superficial conversion to the
cause of Jesus is followed by a relapse into aggravated sin. [1174]
But, I would fain know, what justifies us in abandoning the literal
interpretation of this discourse? In the propositions themselves there
is no indication of a figurative meaning, nor is it rendered probable
by the general style of teaching used by Jesus, for he nowhere else
presents moral relations in the garb of demoniacal conditions; on the
contrary, whenever he speaks, as here, of the departure of evil
spirits, e.g. in Matt. xvii. 21, he evidently intends to be understood
literally. But does the context favour a figurative interpretation?
Luke (xi. 24 ff.) places the discourse in question after the defence of
Jesus against the Pharisaic accusation, that he cast out devils by
Beelzebub: a position which is undoubtedly erroneous, as we have seen,
but which is a proof that he at least understood Jesus to speak
literally—of real demons. Matthew also places the discourse near to the
above accusation and defence, but he inserts between them the demand of
a sign, together with its refusal, and he makes Jesus conclude with the
application, Even so shall it be also unto this wicked generation. This
addition, it is true, gives the discourse a figurative application to
the moral and religious condition of his cotemporaries, but only thus:
Jesus intended the foregoing description of the expelled and returning
demon literally, though he made a secondary use of this event as an
image of the moral condition of his cotemporaries. At any rate Luke,
who has not the same addition, gives the discourse of Jesus, to use the
expression of Paulus, as a warning against demoniacal relapses. That
the majority of theologians in the present day, without decided support
on the part of Matthew, and in decided contradiction to Luke, advocate
the merely figurative interpretation of this passage, appears to be
founded in an aversion to ascribe to Jesus so strongly developed a
demonology, as lies in his words literally understood. But this is not
to be avoided, even leaving the above passage out of consideration. In
Matt. xii. 25 f. 29, Jesus speaks of a kingdom and household of the
devil, in a manner which obviously outsteps the domain of the merely
figurative: but above all, the passage already quoted, Luke x. 18–20,
is of such a nature as to compel even Paulus, who is generally so fond
of lending to the hallowed personages of primitive Christian history
the views of the present age, to admit that the kingdom of Satan was
not merely a symbol of evil to Jesus, and that he believed in actual
demoniacal possession. For he says very justly, that as Jesus here
speaks, not to the patient or to the people, but to those who
themselves, according to his instructions, cured demoniacs, his words
are not to be explained as a mere accommodation, when he confirms their
belief that the spirits are subject unto them, and describes their
capability of curing the malady in question, as a power over the power
of the enemy. [1175] In answer also to the repugnance of those with
whose enlightenment a belief in demoniacal possession is inconsistent,
to admit that Jesus held that belief, the same theologian justly
observes that the most distinguished mind may retain a false idea,
prevalent among his cotemporaries, if it happen to lie out of his
peculiar sphere of thought. [1176]

Some light is thrown on the evangelical conception of the demoniacs, by
the opinions on this subject which we find in writers more or less
cotemporary. The general idea that evil spirits had influence on men,
producing melancholy, insanity, and epilepsy, was early prevalent among
the Greeks [1177] as well as the Hebrews; [1178] but the more distinct
idea that evil spirits entered into the human body and took possession
of its members was not developed until a considerably later period, and
was a consequence of the dissemination of the Oriental, particularly
the Persian pneumatology among both Hebrews and Greeks. [1179] Hence we
find in Josephus the expressions δαιμόνια τοῖς ζῶσιν εἰσδυόμενα, [1180]
ἐνκαθεζόμενα [1181] (demons entering into the living, settling
themselves there), and the same ideas in Lucian [1182] and
Philostratus. [1183]

Of the nature and origin of these spirits nothing is expressly stated
in the gospels, except that they belong to the household of Satan
(Matt. xii. 26 ff. parall.), whence the acts of one of them are
directly ascribed to Satan (Luke xiii. 16). But from Josephus, [1184]
Justin Martyr, [1185] and Philostratus, [1186] with whom rabbinical
writings agree, [1187] we learn that these demons were the disembodied
souls of wicked men; and modern theologians have not scrupled to
attribute this opinion on their origin to the New Testament also.
[1188] Justin and the rabbins more nearly particularize, as spirits
that torment the living, the souls of the giants, the offspring of
those angels who allied themselves to the daughters of men; the rabbins
further add the souls of those who perished in the deluge, and of those
who participated in building the tower of Babel; [1189] and with this
agree the Clementine Homilies, for, according to them also, these souls
of the giants, having become demons, seek to attach themselves, as the
stronger, to human souls, and to inhabit human bodies. [1190] As,
however, in the continuation of the passage first cited, Justin
endeavours to convince the heathens of immortality from their own
ideas, the opinion which he there expresses, of demons being the souls
of the departed in general, can scarcely be regarded as his, especially
as his pupil Tatian expressly declares himself against it; [1191] while
Josephus affords no criterion as to the latent idea of the New
Testament, since his Greek education renders it very uncertain whether
he presents the doctrine of demoniacal possession in its original
Jewish, or in a Grecian form. If it must be admitted that the Hebrews
owed their doctrine of demons to Persia, we know that the Deves of the
Zend mythology were originally and essentially wicked beings, existing
prior to the human race; of these two characteristics, Hebraism as such
might be induced to expunge the former, which pertained to Dualism, but
could have no reason for rejecting the latter. Accordingly, in the
Hebrew view, the demons were the fallen angels of Gen. vi., the souls
of their offspring the giants, and of the great criminals before and
immediately after the deluge, whom the popular imagination gradually
magnified into superhuman beings. But in the ideas of the Hebrews,
there lay no motive for descending beyond the circle of these souls,
who might be conceived to form the court of Satan. Such a motive was
only engendered by the union of the Græco-roman culture with the
Hebraic: the former had no Satan, and consequently no retinue of
spirits devoted to his service, but it had an abundance of Manes,
Lemures, and the like,—all names for disembodied souls that disquieted
the living. Now, the combination of these Græco-roman ideas with the
above-mentioned Jewish ones, seems to have been the source of the
demonology of Josephus, of Justin, and also of the later rabbins; but
it does not follow that the same mixed view belongs to the New
Testament. Rather, as this Græcised form of the doctrine in question is
nowhere positively put forth by the evangelical writers, while on the
contrary the demons are in some passages represented as the household
of Satan: there is nothing to contravene the inference to be drawn from
the unmixedly Jewish character of thought which reigns in the
synoptical gospels on all other subjects (apart from Christian
modifications); namely, that we must attribute to them the pure and
original Jewish conception of the doctrine of demons.

It is well known that the older theology, moved by a regard for the
authority of Jesus and the Evangelists, espoused the belief in the
reality of demoniacal possession. The new theology, on the contrary,
especially since the time of Semler, [1192] in consideration of the
similarity between the condition of the demoniacs in the New Testament
and many naturally diseased subjects of our own day, has begun to refer
the malady of the former also to natural causes, and to ascribe the
evangelical supposition of supernatural causes to the prejudices of
that age. In modern days, on the occurrence of epilepsy, insanity, and
even a disturbance of the self-consciousness resembling the condition
of the possessed described in the New Testament, it is no longer the
custom to account for them by the supposition of demoniacal influence:
and the reason of this seems to be, partly that the advancement in the
knowledge of nature and of mind has placed at command a wider range of
facts and analogies, which may serve to explain the above conditions
naturally: partly that the contradiction, involved in the idea of
demoniacal possession, is beginning to be at least dimly perceived.
For—apart from the difficulties which the notion of the existence of a
devil and demons entails—whatever theory may be held as to the relation
between the self-consciousness and the bodily organs, it remains
absolutely inconceivable how the union between the two could be so far
dissolved, that a foreign self-consciousness could gain an entrance,
thrust out that which belonged to the organism, and usurp its place.
Hence for every one who at once regards actual phenomena with
enlightened eyes, and the New Testament narratives with orthodox ones,
there results the contradiction, that what now proceeds from natural
causes, must in the time of Jesus have been caused supernaturally.

In order to remove this inconceivable difference between the conditions
of one age and another, avoiding at the same time any imputation on the
New Testament, Olshausen, whom we may fairly take as the representative
of the mystical theology and philosophy of the present day, denies both
that all states of the kind in question have now a natural cause, and
that they had in the time of Jesus invariably a supernatural cause.
With respect to our own time he asks, if the apostles were to enter our
mad-houses, how would they name many of the inmates? [1193] We answer,
they would to a certainty name many of them demoniacs, by reason of
their participation in the ideas of their people and their age, not by
reason of their apostolic illumination; and the official who acted as
their conductor would very properly endeavour to set them right:
whatever names therefore they might give to the inmates of our asylums,
our conclusions as to the naturalness of the disorders of those inmates
would not be at all affected. With respect to the time of Jesus, this
theologian maintains that the same forms of disease were, even by the
Jews, in one case held demoniacal, in another not so, according to the
difference in their origin: for example, one who had become insane
through an organic disorder of the brain, or dumb through an injury of
the tongue, was not looked on as a demoniac, but only those, the cause
of whose condition was more or less psychical. Of such a distinction in
the time of Jesus, Olshausen is manifestly bound to give us instances.
Whence could the Jews of that age have acquired their knowledge of the
latent natural causes of these conditions—whence the criterion by which
to distinguish an insanity or imbecility originating in a malformation
of the brain, from one purely psychical? Was not their observation
limited to outward phenomena, and those of the coarsest character? The
nature of their distinctions seems to be this: the state of an
epileptic with his sudden falls and convulsions, or of a maniac in his
delirium, especially if, from the reaction of the popular idea
respecting himself he speaks in the person of another, seems to point
to an external influence which governs him; and consequently, so soon
as the belief in demoniacal possession existed among the people, all
such states were referred to this cause, as we find them to be in the
New Testament: whereas in dumbness and gouty contraction or lameness,
the influence of an external power is less decidedly indicated, so that
these afflictions were at one time ascribed to a possessing demon, at
another not so. Of the former case we find an example in the dumb
persons already mentioned, Matt. ix. 32, xii. 22, and in the woman, who
was bowed down, Luke xiii. 11; of the latter, in the man who was deaf
and had an impediment in his speech, Mark vii. 32 ff., and in the many
paralytics mentioned in the gospels. The decision for the one opinion
or the other was however certainly not founded on an investigation into
the origin of the disease, but solely on its external symptoms. If then
the Jews, and with them the Evangelists, referred the two chief classes
of these conditions to demoniacal influence, there remains for him who
believes himself bound by their opinion, without choosing to shut out
the lights of modern science, the glaring inconsistency of considering
the same diseases as in one age natural, in another supernatural.

But the most formidable difficulty for Olshausen, in his attempted
mediation between the Judaical demonology of the New Testament and the
intelligence of our own day, arises from the influence of the latter on
his own mind—an influence which renders him adverse to the idea of
personal demons. This theologian, initiated in the philosophy of the
present age, endeavours to resolve the host of demons, which in the New
Testament are regarded as distinct individuals, into a system of
emanations, forming the continuity of a single substance, which indeed
sends forth from itself separate powers, not, however, to subsist as
independent individuals, but to return as accidents into the unity of
the substance. This cast of thought we have already observed in the
opinions of Olshausen concerning angels, and it appears still more
decidedly in his demonology. Personal demons are too repugnant, and as
Olshausen himself expresses it, [1194] the comprehension of two
subjects in one individual is too inconceivable to find a ready
acceptation. Hence it is everywhere with vague generality that a
kingdom of evil and darkness is spoken of; and though a personal prince
is given to it, its demons are understood to be mere effluxes and
operations, by which the evil principle manifests itself. But the most
vulnerable point of Olshausen’s opinion concerning demons is this: it
is too much for him to believe that Jesus asked the name of the demon
in the Gadarene; since he himself doubts the personality of those
emanations of the kingdom of darkness, it cannot, he thinks, have been
thus decidedly supposed by Christ;—hence he understands the question,
What is thy name? (Mark v. 9) to be addressed, not to the demon, but to
the man, [1195] plainly in opposition to the whole context, for the
answer, Legion, appears to be in no degree the result of a
misunderstanding, but the right answer—the one expected by Jesus.

If, however, the demons are, according to Olshausen’s opinion,
impersonal powers, that which guides them and determines their various
functions is the law which governs the kingdom of darkness in relation
to the kingdom of light. On this theory, the worse a man is morally,
the closer must be the connexion between him and the kingdom of evil,
and the closest conceivable connexion—the entrance of the power of
darkness into the personality of the man, i.e. possession—must always
occur in the most wicked. But historically this is not so: the
demoniacs in the gospels appear to be sinners only in the sense that
all sick persons need forgiveness of sins; and the greatest sinners
(Judas for example) are spared the infliction of possession. The common
opinion, with its personal demons, escapes this contradiction. It is
true that this opinion also, as we find for instance, in the Clementine
Homilies, firmly maintains it to be by sin only that man subjects
himself to the ingress of the demon; [1196] but here there is yet scope
for the individual will of the demon, who often, from motives not to be
calculated, passes by the worst, and holds in chase the less wicked.
[1197] On the contrary, if the demons are considered, as by Olshausen,
to be the actions of the power of evil in its relation to the power of
goodness; this relation being regulated by laws, everything arbitrary
and accidental is excluded. Hence it evidently costs that theologian
some pains to disprove the consequence, that according to his theory
the possessed must always be the most wicked. Proceeding from the
apparent contest of two powers in the demoniacs, he adopts the position
that the state of demoniacal possession does not appear in those who
entirely give themselves up to evil, and thus maintain an internal
unity of disposition, but only in those in whom there exists a struggle
against sin. [1198] In that case, however, the above state, being
reduced to a purely moral phenomenon, must appear far more frequently;
every violent inward struggle must manifest itself under this form, and
especially those who ultimately give themselves up to evil must, before
arriving at this point, pass through a period of conflict, that is of
possession. Olshausen therefore adds a physical condition, namely, that
the preponderance of evil in the man must have weakened his corporeal
organization, particularly the nervous system, before he can become
susceptible of the demoniacal state. But since such disorders of the
nervous system may occur without any moral fault, who does not see that
the state which it is intended to ascribe to demoniacal power as its
proper source, is thus referred chiefly to natural causes, and that
therefore the argument defeats its own object? Hence Olshausen quickly
turns away from this side of the question, and lingers on the
comparison of the δαιμονιζόμενος (demoniac) with the πονηρὸς (wicked);
whereas he ought rather to compare the former with the epileptic and
insane, for it is only by this means that any light can be thrown on
the nature of possession. This shifting of the question from the ground
of physiology and psychology to that of morality and religion, renders
the discussion concerning the demoniacs one of the most useless which
Olshausen’s work contains. [1199]

Let us then relinquish the ungrateful attempt to modernize the New
Testament conception of the demoniacs, or to judaize our modern
ideas;—let us rather, in relation to this subject, understand the
statements of the New Testament as simply as they are given, without
allowing our investigations to be restricted by the ideas therein
presented, which belonged to the age and nation of its writers. [1200]

The method adopted for the cure of the demoniacal state was, especially
among the Jews, in conformity with what we have ascertained to have
been the idea of its nature. The cause of the malady was not supposed
to be, as in natural diseases, an impersonal object or condition, such
as an impure fluid, a morbid excitement or debility, but a
self-conscious being; hence it was treated, not mechanically or
chemically, but logically, i.e. by words. The demon was enjoined to
depart; and to give effect to this injunction, it was coupled with the
names of beings who were believed to have power over demons. Hence the
main instrument against demoniacal possession was conjuration, [1201]
either in the name of God, or of angels, or of some other potent being,
e.g. the Messiah (Acts xix. 13), with certain forms which were said to
be derived from Solomon. [1202] In addition to this, certain roots,
[1203] stones, [1204] fumigations and amulets [1205] were used, in
obedience to traditions likewise believed to have been handed down from
Solomon. Now as the cause of the malady was not seldom really a
psychical one, or at least one lying in the nervous system, which may
be acted on to an incalculable extent by moral instrumentality, this
psychological treatment was not altogether illusory! for by exciting in
the patient the belief that the demon by which he was possessed, could
not retain his hold before a form of conjuration, it might often effect
the removal of the disorder. Jesus himself admits that the Jewish
exorcists sometimes succeeded in working such cures (Matt. xii. 27).
But we read of Jesus that without conjuration by any other power, and
without the appliance of any further means, he expelled the demons by
his word. The most remarkable cures of this kind, of which the gospels
inform us, we are now about to examine.

§ 93.

CASES OF THE EXPULSION OF DEMONS BY JESUS, CONSIDERED SINGLY.

Among the circumstantial narratives which are given us in the three
first gospels of cures wrought by Jesus on demoniacs, three are
especially remarkable: the cure of a demoniac in the synagogue at
Capernaum, that of the Gadarenes possessed by a multitude of demons,
and lastly, that of the lunatic whom the disciples were unable to cure.

In John the conversion of water into wine is the first miracle
performed by Jesus after his return from the scene of his baptism into
Galilee; but in Mark (i. 23 ff.) and Luke (iv. 33 ff.) the cure of a
demoniac in the synagogue of Capernaum has this position. Jesus had
produced a deep impression by his teaching, when suddenly, a demoniac
who was present, cried out in the character of the demon that possessed
him, that he would have nothing to do with him, that he knew him to be
the Messiah who was come to destroy them—the demons; whereupon Jesus
commanded the demon to hold his peace and come out of the man, which
happened amid cries and convulsions on the part of the demoniac, and to
the great astonishment of the people at the power thus exhibited by
Jesus.

Here we might, with rationalistic commentators, represent the case to
ourselves thus: the demoniac, during a lucid interval, entered the
synagogue, was impressed by the powerful discourse of Jesus, and
overhearing one of the audience speak of him as the Messiah, was seized
with the idea that the unclean spirit by which he was possessed, could
not maintain itself in the presence of the holy Messiah; whence he fell
into a paroxysm, and expressed his awe of Jesus in the character of the
demon. When Jesus perceived this, what was more natural than that he
should make use of the man’s persuasion of his power, and command the
demon to come out of him, thus laying hold of the maniac by his fixed
idea; which according to the laws of mental hygiene, might very
probably have a favourable effect. It is under this view that Paulus
regards the occasion as that on which the thought of using his
messianic fame as a means of curing such sufferers, first occurred to
Jesus. [1206]

But many difficulties oppose themselves to this natural conception of
the case. The demoniac is supposed to learn that Jesus was the Messiah
from the people in the synagogue. On this point the text is not merely
silent, but decidedly contradicts such an opinion. The demon, speaking
through the man, evidently proclaims his knowledge of the Messiahship
of Jesus, in the words, οἶδά δε τίς εἶ κ.τ.λ., not as information
casually imparted by man, but as an intuition of his demoniacal nature.
Further, when Jesus cries, Hold thy peace! he refers to what the demon
had just uttered concerning his messiahship; for it is related of Jesus
that he suffered not the demons to speak because they knew him (Mark i.
34; Luke iv. 41), or because they made him known (Mark iii. 12). If
then Jesus believed that by enjoining silence on the demon he could
hinder the promulgation of his messiahship, he must have been of
opinion, not that the demoniac had heard something of it from the
people in the synagogue, but contrariwise that the latter might learn
it from the demoniac; and this accords with the fact, that at the time
of the first appearance of Jesus, in which the Evangelists place the
occurrence, no one had yet thought of him as the Messiah.

If it be asked, how the demoniac could discover that Jesus was the
Messiah, apart from any external communication, Olshausen presses into
his service the preternaturally heightened activity of the nervous
system, which, in demoniacs as in somnambules, sharpens the presentient
power, and produces a kind of clear-sightedness, by means of which such
a man might very well discern the importance of Jesus as regarded the
whole realm of spirits. The evangelical narrative, it is true, does not
ascribe that knowledge to a power of the patient, but of the demon
dwelling within him, and this is the only view consistent with the
Jewish ideas of that period. The Messiah was to appear, in order to
overthrow the demoniacal kingdom (ἀπολέσαι ἡμᾶς, comp. 1 John iii. 8;
Luke x. 18 f.) [1207] and to cast the devil and his angels into the
lake of fire (Matt. xxv. 41; Rev. xx. 10) [1208]: it followed of course
that the demons would recognize him who was to pass such a sentence on
them. [1209] This however might be deducted as an admixture of the
opinion of the narrator, without damage to the rest of the narrative;
but it must first be granted admissible to ascribe so extensive a
presentient power to demoniacal subjects. Now, as it is in the highest
degree improbable that a nervous patient, however intensely excited,
should recognize Jesus as the Messiah, at a time when he was not
believed to be such by any one else, perhaps not even by himself; and
as on the other hand this recognition of the Messiah by the demon so
entirely agrees with the popular ideas;—we must conjecture that on this
point the evangelical tradition is not in perfect accordance with
historical truth, but has been attuned to those ideas. [1210] There was
the more inducement to this, the more such a recognition of Jesus on
the part of the demons would redound to his glory. As when adults
disowned him, praise was prepared for him out of the mouth of babes
(Matt. xxi. 16)—as he was convinced that if men were silent, the very
stones would cry out (Luke xix. 40): so it must appear fitting, that
when his people whom he came to save would not acknowledge him, he
should have the involuntary homage of demons, whose testimony, since
they had only ruin to expect from him, must be impartial, and from
their higher spiritual nature was to be relied on.

In the above history of the cure of a demoniac, we have a case of the
simplest kind; the cure of the possessed Gadarenes on the contrary
(Matt. viii. 28 ff.; Mark v. 1 ff.; Luke viii. 26 ff.) is a very
complex one, for in this instance we have, together with several
divergencies of the Evangelists, instead of one demon, many, and
instead of a simple departure of these demons, their entrance into a
herd of swine.

After a stormy passage across the sea of Galilee to its eastern shore,
Jesus meets, according to Mark and Luke, a demoniac who lived among the
tombs, [1211] and was subject to outbreaks of terrific fury against
himself [1212] and others; according to Matthew, there were two. It is
astonishing how long harmonists have resorted to miserable expedients,
such as that Mark and Luke mention only one because he was particularly
distinguished by wildness, or Matthew two, because he included the
attendant who guarded the maniac, [1213] rather than admit an essential
difference between the two narratives. Since this step has been gained,
the preference has been given to the statement of the two intermediate
Evangelists, from the consideration that maniacs of this class are
generally unsociable; and the addition of a second demoniac by Matthew
has been explained by supposing that the plurality of the demons spoken
of in the narratives became in his apprehension a plurality of
demoniacs. [1214] But the impossibility that two maniacs should in
reality associate themselves, or perhaps be associated merely in the
original legend, is not so decided as to furnish in itself a ground for
preferring the narrative in Mark and Luke to that in Matthew. At least
if it be asked, which of the two representations could the most easily
have been formed from the other by tradition, the probability on both
sides will be found equal. For if according to the above supposition,
the plurality of demons might give rise to the idea of a plurality of
demoniacs, it may also be said, conversely: the more accurate
representation of Matthew, in which a plurality of demoniacs as well as
of demons was mentioned, did not give prominence to the specifically
extraordinary feature in the case, namely, that one man was possessed
by many demons; and as, in order to exhibit this, the narrative when
reproduced must be so expressed as to make it clear that many demons
inhabited one man, this might easily occasion by degrees the opposition
of the demoniac in the singular to the plural number of the demons. For
the rest, the introduction of Matthew’s narrative is concise and
general, that of the two others circumstantially descriptive; another
difference from which the greater originality of the latter has been
deduced. [1215] But it is quite as probable that the details which Luke
and Mark have in common, namely, that the possessed would wear no
clothing, broke all fetters, and wounded himself with stones, are an
arbitrary enlargement on the simple characteristic, exceeding fierce,
which Matthew gives, with the consequence that no one could pass by
that way,—as that the latter is a vague abridgment of the former.

This scene between Jesus and the demoniac or demoniacs opens, like the
other, with a cry of terror from the latter, who, speaking in the
person of the possessing demon, exclaims that he wishes to have nothing
to do with Jesus, the Messiah, from whom he has to expect only torment.
Two hypotheses have been framed, to explain how the demoniac came at
once to recognize Jesus as the Messiah: according to one, Jesus was
even then reputed to be the Messiah on the Peræan shore; [1216]
according to the other, some of those who had come across the sea with
Jesus had said to the man (whom on account of his fierceness no one
could come near!) that the Messiah had just landed at such a spot:
[1217] but both are alike groundless, for it is plain that in this
narrative, as in the former, the above feature is a product of the
Jewish-Christian opinion respecting the relation of the demons to the
Messiah. [1218] Here, however, another difference meets us. According
to Matthew, the possessed, when they see Jesus, cry: What have we to do
with thee? Art thou come to torment us?—according to Luke, the demoniac
falls at the feet of Jesus and says beseechingly, Torment me not; and
lastly, according to Mark, he runs from a distance to meet Jesus, falls
at his feet and adjures him by God not to torment him. Thus we have
again a climax: in Matthew, the demoniac, stricken with terror,
deprecates the unwelcome approach of Jesus; in Luke, he accosts Jesus,
when arrived, as a suppliant; in Mark, he eagerly runs to meet Jesus,
while yet at a distance. Those commentators who here take Mark’s
narrative as the standard one, are obliged themselves to admit, that
the hastening of a demoniac towards Jesus whom he all the while
dreaded, is somewhat of a contradiction; and they endeavour to relieve
themselves of the difficulty, by the supposition that the man set off
to meet Jesus in a lucid moment, when he wished to be freed from the
demon, but being heated by running, [1219] or excited by the words of
Jesus, [1220] he fell into the paroxysm in which, assuming the
character of the demon, he entreated that the expulsion might be
suspended. But in the closely consecutive phrases of Mark, Seeing—he
ran—and worshipped—and cried—and said, ἰδὼν—ἔδραμε—καὶ προσεκύνησε—καὶ
κράξας—εἶπε· there is no trace of a change in the state of the
demoniac, and the improbability of his representation subsists, for one
really possessed, if he had recognized the Messiah at a distance, would
have anxiously avoided, rather than have approached him; and even
setting this aside, it is impossible that one who believed himself to
be possessed by a demon inimical to God, should adjure Jesus by God, as
Mark makes the demoniac do. [1221] If then his narrative cannot be the
original one, that of Luke, which is only so far the simpler that it
does not represent the demoniac as running towards Jesus and adjuring
him, is too closely allied to it to be regarded as the nearest to the
fact. That of Matthew is without doubt the purest, for the
terror-stricken question, Art thou come to destroy us before the time?
is better suited to a demon, who, as the enemy of the Messiah’s
kingdom, could expect no forbearance from the Messiah than the entreaty
for clemency in Mark and Luke; though Philostratus, in a narrative
which might be regarded as an imitation of this evangelical one, has
chosen the latter form. [1222]

From the course of the narratives hitherto, it would appear that the
demons, in this as in the first narrative, addressed Jesus in the
manner described, before anything occurred on his part; yet the two
intermediate Evangelists go on to state, that Jesus had commanded the
unclean spirit to come out of the man. When did Jesus do this? The most
natural answer would be: before the man spoke to him. Now in Luke the
address of the demoniac is so closely connected with the word
προσέπεσε, he fell down, and then again with ἀνακράξας, having cried
out, that it seems necessary to place the command of Jesus before the
cry and the prostration, and hence to consider it as their cause. Yet
Luke himself rather gives the mere sight of Jesus as the cause of those
demonstrations on the part of the demoniac, so that his representation
leaves us in perplexity as to where the command of Jesus should find
its place. The case is still worse in Mark, for here a similar
dependence of the successive phrases thrusts back the command of Jesus
even before the word ἔδραμε, he ran, so that we should have to imagine
rather strangely that Jesus cried to the demon, ἔξελθε, Come out, from
a distance. Thus the two intermediate Evangelists are in an error with
regard either to the consecutive particulars that precede the command
or to the command itself, and our only question is, where may the error
be most probably presumed to lie? Here Schleiermacher himself admits,
that if in the original narrative an antecedent command of Jesus had
been spoken of, it would have been given in its proper place, before
the prayer of the demons, and as a quotation of the precise words of
Jesus; whereas the supplementary manner in which it is actually
inserted, with its abbreviated and indirect form (in Luke; Mark changes
it after his usual style, into a direct address), is a strong
foundation for the opinion that it is an explanatory addition furnished
by the narrator from his own conjecture. [1223] And it is an extremely
awkward addition, for it obliges the reader to recast his conception of
the entire scene. At first the pith of the incident seems to be, that
the demoniac had instantaneously recognized and supplicated Jesus; but
the narrator drops this original idea, and reflecting that the prayer
of the demon must have been preceded by a severe command from Jesus, he
corrects his previous omission, and remarks that Jesus had given his
command in the first instance.

To their mention of this command, Mark and Luke annex the question put
by Jesus to the demon: What is thy name? In reply, a multitude of
demons make known their presence, and give as their name, Legion. Of
this episode Matthew has nothing. In the above addition we have found a
supplementary explanation of the former part of the narrative: what if
this question and answer were an anticipatory introduction to the
sequel, and likewise the spontaneous production of the legend or the
narrator? Let us examine the reasons that render it probable: the wish
immediately expressed by the demons to enter the herd of swine, does
not in Matthew presuppose a multitude of demons in each of the two
possessed, since we cannot know whether the Hebrews were not able to
believe that even two demons only could possess a whole herd of swine:
but a later writer might well think it requisite to make the number of
the evil spirits equal the number of the swine. Now, what a herd is in
relation to animals, an army or a division of an army is in relation to
men and superior beings, and as it was required to express a large
division, nothing could more readily suggest itself than the Roman
legion, which term in Matt. xxvi. 53, is applied to angels, as here to
demons. But without further considering this more precise estimate of
the Evangelists, we must pronounce it inconceivable that several demons
had set up their habitation in one individual. For even if we had
attained so far as to conceive how one demon by a subjection of the
human consciousness could possess himself of a human organization,
imagination would still fail us to conceive that many personal demons
could at once possess one man. For as possession means nothing else,
than that the demon constitutes himself the subject of the
consciousness, and as consciousness can in reality have but one focus,
one central point: it is under every condition absolutely inconceivable
that several demons should at the same time take possession of one man.
Manifold possession could only exist in the sense of an alternation of
possession by various demons, and not as here in that of a whole army
of them dwelling at once in one man, and at once departing from him.

All the narratives agree in this, that the demons (in order, as Mark
says, not to be sent out of the country, or according to Luke, into the
deep) entreated of Jesus permission to enter into the herd of swine
feeding near; that this was granted them by Jesus; and that forthwith,
owing to their influence, the whole herd of swine (Mark, we must not
ask on what authority, fixes their number at about two thousand) were
precipitated into the sea and drowned. If we adopt here the point of
view taken in the gospel narratives, which throughout suppose the
existence of real demons, it is yet to be asked: how can demons,
admitting even that they can take possession of men,—how, we say, can
they, being at all events intelligent spirits, have and obtain the wish
to enter into brutal forms? Every religion and philosophy which rejects
the transmigration of souls, must, for the same reason, also deny the
possibility of this passage of the demons into swine; and Olshausen is
quite right in classing the swine of Gadara in the New Testament with
Balaam’s ass in the Old, as a similar scandal and stumbling block.
[1224] This theologian, however, rather evades than overcomes the
difficulty, by the observation that we are here to suppose, not an
entrance of the individual demons into the individual swine, but merely
an influence of all the evil spirits on the swine collectively. For the
expression, εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τοὺς χοίρους, to enter into the swine, as it
stands opposed to the expression, ἐξελθεῖν ἐκ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, to go out
of the man, cannot possibly mean otherwise than that the demons were to
assume the same relation to the swine which they had borne to the
possessed man; besides, a mere influence could not preserve them from
banishment out of the country or into the deep, but only an actual
habitation of the bodies of the animals: so that the scandal and
stumbling block remain. Thus the prayer in question cannot possibly
have been offered by real demons, though it might by Jewish maniacs,
sharing the ideas of their people. According to these ideas it is a
torment to evil spirits to be destitute of a corporeal envelopment,
because without a body they cannot gratify their sensual desires;
[1225] if therefore they were driven out of men they must wish to enter
into the bodies of brutes, and what was better suited to an impure
spirit πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον, than an impure animal ζῶον ἀκάθαρτον, like a
swine? [1226] So far, therefore, it is possible that the Evangelists
might correctly represent the fact, only, in accordance with their
national ideas, ascribing to the demons what should rather have been
referred to the madness of the patient. But when it is further said
that the demons actually entered the swine, do not the Evangelists
affirm an evident impossibility? Paulus thinks that the Evangelists
here as everywhere else identify the possessed men with the possessing
demons, and hence attribute to the latter the entrance into the swine,
while in fact it was only the former, who, in obedience to their fixed
idea, rushed upon the herd. [1227] It is true that Matthew’s expression
ἀπῆλθον εἰς τοὺς χοίρους, taken alone, might be understood of a mere
rushing towards the swine; not only however, as Paulus himself must
admit, does the word εἰσελθόντες in the two other Evangelists
distinctly imply a real entrance into the swine; but also Matthew has
like them before the word ἀπῆλθον, they entered, the expression
ἐξελθόντες οἱ δαίμονες, the demons coming out (sc. ἐκ τῶν ἀνθρώπων out
of the men): thus plainly enough distinguishing the demons who entered
the swine from the men. [1228] Thus our Evangelists do not in this
instance merely relate what actually happened, in the colours which it
took from the false lights of their age; they have here a particular,
which cannot possibly have happened in the manner they allege.

A new difficulty arises from the effect which the demons are said to
have produced in the swine. Scarcely had they entered them, when they
compelled the whole herd to precipitate themselves into the sea. It is
reasonably asked, what then did the demons gain by entering into the
animals, if they immediately destroyed the bodies of which they had
taken possession, and thus robbed themselves of the temporary abode for
which they had so earnestly entreated? [1229] The conjecture, that the
design of the demons in destroying the swine, was to incense the minds
of their owners against Jesus, which is said to have been the actual
result, [1230] is too far-fetched; the other conjecture that the
demoniacs, rushing with cries on the herd, together with the flight of
their keepers, terrified the swine and chased them into the water,
[1231]—even if it were not opposed as we have seen to the text,—would
not suffice to explain the drowning of a herd of swine amounting to
2,000, according to Mark; or only a numerous herd, according to the
general statement of Matthew. The expedient of supposing that in truth
it was only a part of the herd that was drowned, [1232] has not the
slightest foundation in the evangelical narrative. The difficulties
connected with this point are multiplied by the natural reflection that
the drowning of the herd would involve no slight injury to the owners,
and that of this injury Jesus was the mediate author. The orthodox,
bent on justifying Jesus, suppose that the permission to the demons to
enter into the swine was necessary to render the cure of the demoniac
possible, and, they argue, brutes are assuredly to be killed that man
may live; [1233] but they do not perceive that they thus, in a manner
most inconsistent with their point of view, circumscribe the power of
Jesus over the demoniacal kingdom. Again, it is supposed, that the
swine probably belonged to Jews, and that Jesus intended to punish them
for their covetous transgression of the law, [1234] that he acted with
divine authority, which often sacrifices individual good to higher
objects, and by lightning, hail and inundations causes destruction to
the property of many men, [1235] in which case, to accuse God of
injustice would be absurd. [1236] But to adopt this expedient is to
confound, in a way the most inadmissible on the orthodox system,
Christ’s state of humiliation with his state of exaltation: it is to
depart, in a spirit of mysticism, from the wise doctrine of Paul, that
he was made under the law, γενόμενος ὑπὸ νόμον (Gal. iv. 4), and that
he made himself of no reputation ἑαυτόν ἐκένωσε (Phil. ii. 7): it is to
make Jesus a being altogether foreign to us, since in relation to the
moral estimate of his actions, it lifts him above the standard of
humanity. Nothing remains, therefore, but to take the naturalistic
supposition of the rushing of the demoniacs among the swine, and to
represent the consequent destruction of the latter as something
unexpected by Jesus, for which therefore he is not responsible: [1237]
in the plainest contradiction to the evangelical account, which makes
Jesus, even if not directly cause the issue, foresee it in the most
decided manner. [1238] Thus there appears to attach to Jesus the charge
of an injury done to the property of another, and the opponents of
Christianity have long ago made this use of the narrative. [1239] It
must be admitted that Pythagoras in a similar case acted far more
justly, for when he liberated some fish from the net, he indemnified
the fishermen who had taken them. [1240]

Thus the narrative before us is a tissue of difficulties, of which
those relating to the swine are not the slightest. It is no wonder
therefore that commentators began to doubt the thorough historical
truth of this anecdote earlier than that of most others in the public
life of Jesus, and particularly to sever the connexion between the
destruction of the swine and the expulsion of the demons by Jesus. Thus
Krug thought that tradition had reversed the order of these two facts.
The swine according to him were precipitated into the sea before the
landing of Jesus, by the storm which raged during his voyage, and when
Jesus subsequently wished to cure the demoniac, either he himself or
one of his followers persuaded the man that his demons were already
gone into those swine and had hurled them into the sea; which was then
believed and reported to be the fact. [1241] K. Ch. L. Schmidt makes
the swine-herds go to meet Jesus on his landing; during which interim
many of the untended swine fall into the sea; and as about this time
Jesus had commanded the demon to depart from the man, the bystanders
imagine that the two events [1242] stood in the relation of cause and
effect. The prominent part which is played in these endeavours at
explanation, by the accidental coincidence of many circumstances,
betrays that maladroit mixture of the mythical system of interpretation
with the natural which characterizes the earliest attempts, from the
mythical point of view. Instead of inventing a natural foundation, for
which we have nowhere any warrant, and which in no degree explains the
actual narrative in the gospels, adorned as it is with the miraculous;
we must rather ask, whether in the probable period of the formation of
the evangelical narratives, there are not ideas to be found from which
the story of the swine in the history before us might be explained?

We have already adduced one opinion of that age bearing on this point,
namely, that demons are unwilling to remain without bodies, and that
they have a predilection for impure places, whence the bodies of swine
must be best suited to them: this does not however explain why they
should have precipitated the swine into the water. But we are not
destitute of information that will throw light on this also. Josephus
tells us of a Jewish conjuror who cast out demons by forms and means
derived from Solomon, that in order to convince the bystanders of the
reality of his expulsions, he set a vessel of water in the
neighbourhood of the possessed person, so that the departing demon must
throw it down and thus give ocular proof to the spectators that he was
out of the man. [1243] In like manner it is narrated of Apollonius of
Tyana, that he commanded a demon which possessed a young man, to depart
with a visible sign, whereupon the demon entreated that he might
overturn a statue that stood near at hand; which to the great
astonishment of the spectators actually ensued in the very moment that
the demon went out of the youth. [1244] If then the agitation of some
near object, without visible contact, was held the surest proof of the
reality of an expulsion of demons: this proof could not be wanting to
Jesus; nay, while in the case of Eleazar, the object being only a
little (μικρὸν) removed from the exorciser and the patient, the
possibility of deception was not altogether excluded, Matthew notices
in relation to Jesus, more emphatically than the two other Evangelists,
the fact that the herd of swine was feeding a good way off (μακρὰν),
thus removing the last remnant of such a possibility. That the object
to which Jesus applied this proof, was from the first said to be a herd
of swine, immediately proceeded from the Jewish idea of the relation
between unclean spirits and animals, but it furnished a welcome
opportunity for satisfying another tendency of the legend. Not only did
it behove Jesus to cure ordinary demoniacs, such as the one in the
history first considered; he must have succeeded in the most difficult
cures of this kind. It is the evident object of the present narrative,
from the very commencement, with its startling description of the
fearful condition of the Gadarene, to represent the cure as one of
extreme difficulty. But to make it more complicated, the possession
must be, not simple, but manifold, as in the case of Mary Magdalene,
out of whom were cast seven demons (Luke viii. 2), or in the demoniacal
relapse in which the expelled demon returns with seven worse than
himself (Matt. xii. 45); whence the number of the demons was here made,
especially by Mark, to exceed by far the probable number of a herd. As
in relation to an inanimate object, as a vessel of water or a statue,
the influence of the expelled demons could not be more clearly
manifested by any means, than by its falling over contrary to the law
of gravity; so in animals it could not be more surely attested in any
way, than by their drowning themselves contrary to their instinctive
desire of life. Only by this derivation of our narrative from the
confluence of various ideas and interests of the age, can we explain
the above noticed contradiction, that the demons first petition for the
bodies of the swine as a habitation, and immediately after of their own
accord destroy this habitation. The petition grew, as we have said, out
of the idea that demons shunned incorporeality, the destruction, out of
the ordinary test of the reality of an exorcism;—what wonder if the
combination of ideas so heterogeneous produced two contradictory
features in the narrative?

The third and last circumstantially narrated expulsion of a demon has
the peculiar feature, that in the first instance the disciples in vain
attempt the cure, which Jesus then effects with ease. The three
synoptists (Matt. xvii. 14 ff.; Mark ix. 14 ff.; Luke ix. 37 ff.)
unanimously state that Jesus having descended with his three most
confidential disciples from the Mount of the Transfiguration, found his
other disciples in perplexity, because they were unable to cure a
possessed boy, whom his father had brought to them.

In this narrative also there is a gradation from the greatest
simplicity in Matthew, to the greatest particularity of description in
Mark; and here again this gradation has led to the conclusion that the
narrative of Matthew is the farthest from the fact, and must be made
subordinate to that of the two other Evangelists. [1245] In the
introduction of the incident in Matthew, Jesus, having descended from
the mountain, joins the multitude (ὄχλος), whereupon the father of the
boy approaches, and on his knees entreats Jesus to cure his child; in
Luke, the multitude (ὄχλος) meet Jesus; lastly, in Mark, Jesus sees
around the disciples a great multitude, among whom were scribes
disputing with them; the people, when they see him, run towards him and
salute him, he inquires what is the subject of dispute, and on this the
father of the boy begins to speak. Here we have a climax in relation to
the conduct of the people; in Matthew, Jesus appears to join them by
accident; in Luke, they come to meet him; and in Mark, they run towards
him to salute him. The last Evangelist has the singular remark: And
straightway all the people, when they saw him, were greatly amazed.
What could there possibly be so greatly to amaze the people in the
arrival of Jesus with some disciples? This remains, in spite of all the
other means of explanation that have been devised, so thorough a
mystery, that I cannot find so absurd as Fritzsche esteems it, the idea
of Euthymius, that Jesus having just descended from the Mount of
Transfiguration, some of the heavenly radiance which had there shone
around him was still visible, as on Moses when he came down from Sinai
(Exod. xxxiv. 29 f.). That among this throng of people there were
scribes who arraigned the disciples on the ground of their failure, and
involved them in a dispute, is in and by itself quite natural; but
connected as it is with the exaggerations concerning the behaviour of
the multitude, this feature also becomes suspicious, especially as the
other two Evangelists have it not; so that if it can be shown how the
narrator might be led to insert it by a mental combination of his own,
we shall have sufficient warrant for renouncing it. Shortly before
(viii. 11), on the occasion of the demand of a sign from Jesus by the
Pharisees, Mark says, ἥρξαντο συζητεῖν αὐτῷ, they began to question
with him, apparently on the subject of his ability to work miracles;
and so here when the disciples show themselves unable to perform a
miracle, he represents the scribes (the majority of whom belonged to
the Pharisaic sect), as συζητοῦντας τοῖς μαθηταῖς, questioning with the
disciples. In the succeeding description of the boy’s state there is
the same gradation as to particularity, except that Matthew is the one
who alone has the expression σεληνιάζεται (is lunatic), which it is
unfair to make a reproach to him, [1246] since the reference of
periodical disorders to the moon was not uncommon in the time of Jesus.
[1247] Mark alone calls the spirit that possessed the dumb boy (v. 17),
and deaf (v. 25). The emission of inarticulate sounds by epileptics
during their fits, might be regarded as the dumbness of the demon, and
their incapability of noticing any words addressed to them, as his
deafness.

When the father has informed Jesus of the subject of dispute and of the
inability of the disciples to relieve the boy, Jesus breaks forth into
the exclamation, O faithless and perverse generation, etc. On a
comparison of the close of the narrative in Matthew, where Jesus, when
his disciples ask him why they could not cast out the demon, answers;
Because of your unbelief, and proceeds to extol the power of faith,
even though no larger than a grain of mustard seed, as sufficient to
remove mountains (v. 19 ff.): it cannot be doubted that in this
expression of dissatisfaction Jesus apostrophizes his disciples, in
whose inability to cast out the demon, he finds a proof of their still
deficient faith. [1248] This concluding explanation of the want of
power in the disciples, by their unbelief, Luke omits: and Mark not
only imitates him in this, but also interweaves (v. 21–24), a by-scene
between Jesus and the father, in which he first gives an amplified
description of the symptoms of the child’s malady, drawn partly from
Matthew, partly from his own resources, and then represents the father,
on being required to believe, as confessing with tears the weakness of
his faith, and his desire that it may be strengthened. Taking this
together with the mention of the disputative scribes, we cannot err in
supposing the speech of Jesus, O faithless generation, etc., in Mark
and also in Luke to refer to the people, as distinguished from the
disciples; in Mark, more particularly to the father, whose unbelief is
intimated to be an impediment to the cure, as in another case (Matt.
ix. 2), the faith of relatives appears to further the desired object.
As however both the Evangelists give this aspect to the circumstances,
because they do not here give the explanation of the inefficiency of
the disciples by their unbelief, together with the declaration
concerning the power of faith to remove mountains: we must inquire
whether the connexion in which they place these discourses is more
suitable than this in which they are inserted by Matthew. In Luke the
declaration: If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, etc. (neither
he nor Mark has, Because of your unbelief), occurs xvii. 5, 6, with
only the slight variation, that instead of the mountain a tree is
named; but it is here destitute of any connexion either with the
foregoing or the following context, and has the appearance of a short
stray fragment, with an introduction, no doubt fictitious (of the same
kind as Luke xi. 1, xiii. 23), in the form of an entreaty from the
disciples: Lord, increase our faith. Mark gives the sentence on the
faith which removes mountains as the moral of the history of the cursed
fig tree, where Matthew also has it a second time. But to this history
the declaration is totally unsuitable, as we shall presently see; and
if we are unwilling to content ourselves with ignorance of the occasion
on which it was uttered, we must accept its connexion in Matthew as the
original one, for it is perfectly appropriate to a failure of the
disciples in an attempted cure. Mark has sought to make the scene more
effective by other additions, beside this episode with the father; he
tells us that the people ran together that they might observe what was
passing, that after the expulsion of the demon the boy was as one dead,
insomuch that many said, he is dead; but that Jesus, taking him by the
hand, as he does elsewhere with the dead (Matt. ix. 25), lifts him up
and restores him to life.

After the completion of the cure, Luke dismisses the narrative with a
brief notice of the astonishment of the people; but the two first
synoptists pursue the subject by making the disciples, when alone with
Jesus, ask him why they were not able to cast out the demon? In Matthew
the immediate reply of Jesus accounts for their incapability by their
unbelief; but in Mark, his answer is, This kind goeth not out but by
prayer and fasting, which Matthew also adds after the discourse on
unbelief and the power of faith. This seems to be an unfortunate
connexion of Matthew’s; for if fasting and praying were necessary for
the cure, the disciples, in case they had not previously fasted, could
not have cast out the demon even if they had possessed the firmest
faith. [1249] Whether these two reasons given by Jesus for the
inability of the disciples can be made consistent by the observation,
that fasting and prayer are means of strengthening faith; [1250] or
whether we are to suppose with Schleiermacher an association of two
originally unrelated passages, we will not here attempt to decide. That
such a spiritual and corporeal discipline on the part of the exorcist
should have effect on the possessed, has been held surprising: it has
been thought with Porphyry, [1251] that it would rather be to the
purpose that the patient should observe this discipline, and hence it
has been supposed that the προσευχὴ καὶ νηστεία, prayer and fasting,
were prescribed to the demoniac as a means of making the cure radical.
[1252] But this is evidently in contradiction to the text. For if
fasting and praying on the part of the patient were necessary for the
success of the cure, it must have been gradual and not sudden, as all
cures are which are attributed to Jesus in the gospels, and as this is
plainly enough implied to be by the words, καὶ ἐθεραπεύθη ὁ παῖς ἀπὸ
τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης, and the child was cured from that very hour, in
Matthew, and the word ἰάσατο, he cured, placed between ἐπετίμησε κ.τ.λ.
Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, and ἀπέδωκε κ.τ.λ. delivered him
again to his father, in Luke. It is true Paulus turns the above
expression of Matthew to his advantage, for he understands it to mean
that from that time forward the boy, by the application of the
prescribed discipline, gradually recovered. But we need only observe
the same form of expression where it elsewhere occurs as the final
sentence in narratives of cures, to be convinced of the impossibility
of such an interpretation. When, for example, the story of the woman
who had an issue of blood closes with the remark (Matt. ix. 22) καὶ
ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ ἀπὸ ὥρας ἐκείνης, this will hardly be translated, et
exinde mulier paulatim servabatur: it can only mean: servata est (et
servatam se præbuit) ab illo temporis momento. Another point to which
Paulus appeals as a proof that Jesus here commenced a cure which was to
be consummated by degrees, is the expression of Luke, ἀπέδωκεν αὐτὸν τῷ
πατρὶ αὐτοῦ, he delivered him again to his father, which, he argues,
would have been rather superfluous, if it were not intended to imply a
recommendation to special care. But the more immediate signification of
ἀποδίδωμι is not to deliver or give up, but to give back; and therefore
in the above expression the only sense is: puerum, quem sanandum
acceperat, sanatum reddidit, that is, the boy who had fallen into the
hands of a strange power—of the demon—was restored to the parents as
their own. Lastly, how arbitrary is it in Paulus to take the expression
ἐκπορεύεται, goeth out (Matt. v. 21), in the closer signification of a
total departure, and to distinguish this from the preliminary departure
which followed on the bare word of Jesus (v. 18)! Thus in this case, as
in every other, the gospels present to us, not a cure which was
protracted through days and weeks, but a cure which was instantaneously
completed by one miracle: hence the fasting and prayer cannot be
regarded as a prescription for the patient.

With this whole history must be compared an analogous narrative in 2
Kings iv. 29 ff. Here the prophet Elisha attempts to bring a dead child
to life, by sending his staff by the hands of his servant Gehazi, who
is to lay it on the face of the child; but this measure does not
succeed, and Elisha is obliged in his own person to come and call the
boy to life. The same relation that exists in this Old Testament story
between the prophet and his servant, is seen in the New Testament
narrative between the Messiah and his disciples: the latter can do
nothing without their master, but what was too difficult for them, he
effects with certainty. Now this feature is a clue to the tendency of
both narratives, namely, to exalt their master by exhibiting the
distance between him and his most intimate disciples; or, if we compare
the evangelical narrative before us with that of the demoniacs of
Gadara, we may say: the latter case was made to appear one of extreme
difficulty in itself; the former, by the relation in which the power of
Jesus, which is adequate to the occasion, is placed to the power of the
disciples, which, however great in other instances, was here
insufficient.

Of the other more briefly narrated expulsions of demons, the cure of a
dumb demoniac and of one who was blind also, has been already
sufficiently examined in connexion with the accusation of a league with
Beelzebub: as also the cure of the woman who was bowed down, in our
general considerations on the demoniacs. The cure of the possessed
daughter of the Canaanitish woman (Matt. xv. 22 ff.; Mark vii. 25 ff.)
has no further peculiarity than that it was wrought by the word of
Jesus at a distance: a point of which we shall speak later.

According to the evangelical narratives, the attempt of Jesus to expel
the demon succeeded in every one of these cases. Paulus remarks that
cures of this kind, although they contributed more than anything else
to impress the multitude with veneration for Jesus, were yet the
easiest in themselves, and even De Wette sanctions a psychological
explanation of the cures of demoniacs, though of no others. [1253] With
these opinions we cannot but agree; for if we regard the real character
of the demoniacal state as a species of madness accompanied by a
convulsive tendency of the nervous system, we know that psychical and
nervous disorders are most easily wrought upon by psychical
influence;—an influence to which the surpassing dignity of Jesus as a
prophet, and eventually even as the Messiah himself, presented all the
requisite conditions. There is, however, a marked gradation among these
states, according as the psychical derangement has more or less fixed
itself corporeally, and the disturbance of the nervous system has
become more or less habitual, and shared by the rest of the
organization. We may therefore lay down the following rule: the more
strictly the malady was confined to mental derangement, on which the
word of Jesus might have an immediate moral influence, or in a
comparatively slight disturbance of the nervous system, on which he
would be able to act powerfully through the medium of the mind, the
more possible was it for Jesus by his word λόγῳ (Matt. viii. 16), and
instantly παραχρῆμα (Luke xiii. 13), to put an end to such states: on
the other hand, the more the malady had already confirmed itself, as a
bodily disease, the more difficult is it to believe that Jesus was able
to relieve it in a purely psychological manner and at the first moment.
From this rule results a second: namely, that to any extensive
psychological influence on the part of Jesus the full recognition of
his dignity as a prophet was requisite; whence it follows that at times
and in districts where he had long had that reputation, he could effect
more in this way than where he had it not.

If we apply these two measures to the cures in the gospels, we shall
find that the first, viz., that of the demoniac in the synagogue at
Capernaum, is not, so soon as we cease to consider the Evangelist’s
narrative of it circumstantially correct, altogether destitute of
probability. It is true that the words attributed to the demon seem to
imply an intuitive knowledge of Jesus; but this may be probably
accounted for by the supposition that the widely-spread fame of Jesus
in that country, and his powerful discourse in the synagogue, had
impressed the demoniac with the belief, if not that Jesus was the
Messiah, as the Evangelists say, at least that he must be a prophet: a
belief that would give effect to his words. As regards the state of
this demoniac we are only told of his fixed idea (that he was
possessed), and of his attacks of convulsions; his malady may therefore
have been of the less rooted kind, and accessible to psychological
influence. The cure of the Gadarenes is attended with more difficulty
in both points of view. Firstly, Jesus was comparatively little known
on the eastern shore; and secondly, the state of these demoniacs is
described as so violent and deep-seated a mania, that a word from Jesus
could hardly suffice to put an end to it. Here therefore the natural
explanation of Paulus will not suffice, and if we are to regard the
narrative as having any foundation in fact, we must suppose that the
description of the demoniac’s state, as well as other particulars, has
been exaggerated by the legend. The same judgment must be passed in
relation to the cure of the boy who was lunatic, since an epilepsy
which had existed from infancy (Mark v. 21) and the attacks of which
were so violent and regular, must be too deeply rooted in the system
for the possibility of so rapid and purely psychological a cure to be
credible. That even dumbness and a contraction of many years’ duration,
which we cannot with Paulus explain as a mere insane imagination that
speech or an erect carriage was not permitted, [1254]—that these
afflictions should disappear at a word, no one who is not committed to
dogmatical opinions can persuade himself. Lastly, least of all is it to
be conceived, that even without the imposing influence of his presence,
the miracle-worker could effect a cure at a distance, as Jesus is said
to have done on the daughter of the Canaanitish woman.

Thus in the nature of things there is nothing to prevent the admission,
that Jesus cured many persons who suffered from supposed demoniacal
insanity or nervous disorder, in a psychical manner, by the ascendancy
of his manner and words (if indeed Venturini [1255] and Kaiser [1256]
are not right in their conjecture, that patients of this class often
believed themselves to be cured, when in fact the crisis only of their
disorder had been broken by the influence of Jesus; and that the
Evangelists state them to have been cured because they learned nothing
further of them, and thus knew nothing of their probable relapse). But
while granting the possibility of many cures, it is evident that in
this field the legend has not been idle, but has confounded the easier
cases, which alone could be cured psychologically, with the most
difficult and complicated, to which such a treatment was totally
inapplicable. [1257] Is the refusal of a sign on the part of Jesus
reconcilable with such a manifestation of power as we have above
defined,—or must even such cures as can be explained psychologically,
but which in his age must have seemed miracles, be denied in order to
make that refusal comprehensible? We will not here put this alternative
otherwise than as a question.

If in conclusion we cast a glance on the gospel of John, we find that
it does not even mention demoniacs and their cure by Jesus. This
omission has not seldom been turned to the advantage of the Apostle
John, the alleged author, as indicating a superior degree of
enlightenment. [1258] If however this apostle did not believe in the
reality of possession by devils, he must have had, as the author of the
fourth gospel, according to the ordinary view of his relation to the
synoptical writers, the strongest motives for rectifying their
statements, and preventing the dissemination of what he held to be a
false opinion, by setting the cures in question in a true light. But
how could the Apostle John arrive at the rejection of the opinion that
the above diseases had their foundation in demoniacal possession?
According to Josephus it was at that period a popular Jewish opinion,
from which a Jew of Palestine who, like John, did not visit a foreign
land until late in life, would hardly be in a condition to liberate
himself; it was, according to the nature of things and the synoptical
accounts, the opinion of Jesus himself, John’s adored master, from whom
the favourite disciple certainly would not be inclined to swerve even a
hair’s breadth. But if John shared with his cotemporaries and with
Jesus himself the notion of real demoniacal possession, and if the cure
of demoniacs formed the principal part, nay, perhaps the true
foundation of the alleged miraculous powers of Jesus: how comes it that
the Apostle nevertheless makes no mention of them in his gospel? That
he passed over them because the other Evangelists had collected enough
of such histories, is a supposition that ought by this time to be
relinquished, since he repeats more than one history of a miracle which
they had already given; and if it be said that he repeated these
because they needed correction,—we have seen, in our examination of the
cures of demoniacs, that in many a reduction of them to their simple
historical elements would be very much in place. There yet remains the
supposition that, the histories of demoniacs being incredible or
offensive to the cultivated Greeks of Asia Minor, among whom John is
said to have written, he left them out of his gospel for the sake of
accommodating himself to their ideas. But we must ask, could or should
an apostle, out of mere accommodation to the refined ears of his
auditors, withhold so essential a feature of the agency of Jesus?
Certainly this silence, supposing the authenticity of the three first
gospels, rather indicates an author who had not been an eye-witness of
the ministry of Jesus; or, according to our view, at least one who had
not at his command the original tradition of Palestine, but only a
tradition modified by Hellenistic influence, in which the expulsions of
demons, being less accordant with the higher culture of the Greeks,
were either totally suppressed or kept so far in the background that
they might have escaped the notice of the author of the gospel.

§ 94.

CURES OF LEPERS.

Among the sufferers whom Jesus healed, the leprous play a prominent
part, as might have been anticipated from the tendency of the climate
of Palestine to produce cutaneous disease. When, according to the
synoptical writers, Jesus directs the attention of the Baptist’s
messengers to the actual proofs which he had given of his Messiahship
(Matt. ix. 5), he adduces among these, the cleansing of lepers; when,
on the first mission of the disciples, he empowers them to perform all
kinds of miracles, the cleansing of lepers is numbered among the first
(Matt. x. 8), and two cases of such cures are narrated to us in detail.

One of these cases is common to all the synoptical writers, but is
placed by them in two different connexions: namely, by Matthew,
immediately after the delivery of the Sermon on the Mount (viii. 1
ff.); by the other Evangelists, at some period, not precisely marked,
at the beginning of the ministry of Jesus in Galilee (Mark i. 40 ff.;
Luke v. 12 ff.). According to the narratives, a leper comes towards
Jesus, and falling on his knees, entreats that he may be cleansed; this
Jesus effects by a touch, and then directs the leper to present himself
to the priest in obedience to the law, that he may be pronounced clean
(Lev. xiv. 2 ff.). The state of the man is in Matthew and Mark
described simply by the word λεπρὸς, a leper; but in Luke more
strongly, by the words, πλήρης λέπρας, full of leprosy. Paulus, indeed,
regards the being thus replete with leprosy as a symptom that the
patient was curable (the eruption and peeling of the leprosy on the
entire skin being indicative of the healing crisis); and accordingly,
that commentator represents the incident to himself in the following
manner. The leper applied to Jesus in his character of Messiah for an
opinion on his state, and, the result being favourable, for a
declaration that he was clean (εἰ θέλεις, δύνασαί με καθαρίσαι), which
might either spare him an application to the priest, or at all events
give him a consolatory hope in making that application. Jesus
expressing himself ready to make the desired examination (θέλω),
stretched out his hand, in order to feel the patient, without allowing
too near an approach while he was possibly still capable of
communicating contagion; and after a careful examination, he expressed,
as its result, the conviction that the patient was no longer in a
contagious state (καθαρίσθητι), whereupon quickly and easily (εὐθέως)
the leprosy actually disappeared. [1259]

Here, in the first place, the supposition that the leper was precisely
at the crisis of healing is foreign to the text, which in the two first
Evangelists speaks merely of leprosy, while the πλήρης λέπρας of the
third can mean nothing else than the Old Testament expression ‏מְצֹרָע
כַּשָּׁלֶג‎ (Exod. iv. 6, Num. xii. 10; 2 Kings v. 27), which, according to
the connexion in every instance, signifies the worst stage of leprosy.
That the word καθαρίζειν in the Hebraic and Hellenistic use of the
Greek language, might also mean merely to pronounce clean is not to be
denied, only it must retain the signification throughout the passage.
But that after having narrated that Jesus had said, Be thou clean,
καθαρίσθητι, Matthew should have added καὶ εὐθέως ἐκαθαρίσθη κ.τ.λ. in
the sense that thus the sick man was actually pronounced clean by
Jesus, is, from the absurd tautology such an interpretation would
introduce, so inconceivable, that we must here, and consequently
throughout the narrative, understand the word καθαρίζεσθαι of actual
cleansing. It is sufficient to remind the reader of the expressions
λεπροὶ καθαρίζονται, the lepers are cleansed (Matt. xi. 5), and λεπροὺς
καθαρίζετε, cleanse the lepers (Matt. x. 8), where neither can the
latter word signify merely to pronounce clean, nor can it have another
meaning than in the narrative before us. But the point in which the
natural interpretation the most plainly betrays its weakness, is the
disjunction of θέλω, I will, from καθαρίσθητι, be thou clean. Who can
persuade himself that these words, united as they are in all the three
narratives, were separated by a considerable pause—that θέλω was spoken
during or more properly before the manipulation, καθαρίσθητι after,
when all the Evangelists represent the two words as having been uttered
by Jesus without separation whilst he touched the leper? Surely, if the
alleged sense had been the original one, at least one of the
Evangelists, instead of the words ἥψατο αὐτοῦ ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγων· θέλω,
καθαρίσθητι, Jesus touched him, saying, I will, be thou clean, would
have substituted the more accurate expression, ὁ Ἰ. ἀπεκρίνατο· θέλω,
καὶ ἁψάμενος αὐτοῦ εἶπε· καθαρίσθητι, Jesus answered, I will; and
having touched him, said: be thou clean. But if καθαρίσθητι was spoken
in one breath with θέλω, so that Jesus announces the cleansing simply
as a result of his will without any intermediate examination, the
former word cannot possibly signify a mere declaration of cleanness, to
which a previous examination would be requisite, and it must signify an
actual making clean. It follows, therefore, that the word ἅπτεσθαι in
this connexion is not to be understood of an exploratory manipulation,
but, as in all other narratives of the same class, of a curative touch.

In support of his natural explanation of this incident, Paulus appeals
to the rule, that invariably the ordinary and regular is to be
presupposed in a narrative where the contrary is not expressly
indicated. [1260] But this rule shares the ambiguity which is
characteristic of the entire system of natural interpretation, since it
leaves undecided what is ordinary and regular in our estimation, and
what was so in the ideas of the author whose writings are to be
explained. Certainly, if I have a Gibbon before me, I must in his
narratives presuppose only natural causes and occurrences when he does
not expressly convey the contrary, because to a writer of his
cultivation, the supernatural is at the utmost only conceivable as a
rare exception. But the case is altered when I take up an Herodotus, in
whose mode of thought the intervention of higher powers is by no means
unusual and out of rule; and when I am considering a collection of
anecdotes which are the product of Jewish soil, and the object of which
is to represent an individual as a prophet of the highest rank—as a man
in the most intimate connexion with the Deity, to meet with the
supernatural is so completely a thing of course, that the rule of the
rationalists must here be reversed, and we must say: where, in such
narratives, importance is attached to results which, regarded as
natural, would have no importance whatever,—there, supernatural causes
must be expressly excluded, if we are not to presuppose it the opinion
of the narrator that such causes were in action. Moreover, in the
history before us, the extraordinary character of the incident is
sufficiently indicated by the statement, that the leprosy left the
patient immediately on the word of Jesus. Paulus, it is true,
contrives, as we have already observed, to interpret this statement as
implying a gradual, natural healing, on the ground that εὐθέως, the
word by which the Evangelists determine the time of the cure,
signifies, according to the different connexions in which it may occur,
in one case immediately, in another merely soon, and unobstructedly.
Granting this, are we to understand the words εὐθέως ἐξέβαλεν αὐτὸν,
which follow in close connexion in Mark (v. 43), as signifying that
soon and without hindrance Jesus sent the cleansed leper away? Or is
the word to be taken in a different sense in two consecutive verses?

We conclude, then, that in the intention of the evangelical writers the
instantaneous disappearance of the leprosy in consequence of the word
and touch of Jesus, is the fact on which their narratives turn. Now to
represent the possibility of this to one’s self is quite another task
than to imagine the instantaneous release of a man under the grasp of a
fixed idea, or a permanently invigorating impression on a nervous
patient. Leprosy, from the thorough derangement of the animal fluids of
which it is the symptom, is the most obstinate and malignant of
cutaneous diseases; and that a skin corroded by this malady should by a
word and touch instantly become pure and healthy, is, from its
involving the immediate effectuation of what would require a long
course of treatment, so inconceivable, [1261] that every one who is
free from certain prejudices (as the critic ought always to be) must
involuntarily be reminded by it of the realm of fable. And in the
fabulous region of Oriental and more particularly of Jewish legend, the
sudden appearance and disappearance of leprosy presents itself the
first thing. When Jehovah endowed Moses, as a preparation for his
mission into Egypt, with the power of working all kinds of signs,
amongst other tokens of this gift he commanded him to put his hand into
his bosom, and when he drew it out again, it was covered with leprosy;
again he was commanded to put it into his bosom, and on drawing it out
a second time it was once more clean (Exod. iv. 6, 7). Subsequently, on
account of an attempt at rebellion against Moses, his sister Miriam was
suddenly stricken with leprosy, but on the intercession of Moses was
soon healed (Num. xii. 10 ff.). Above all, among the miracles of the
prophet Elisha the cure of a leper plays an important part, and to this
event Jesus himself refers (Luke iv. 27.). The Syrian general, Naaman,
who suffered from leprosy, applied to the Israelitish prophet for his
aid; the latter sent to him the direction to wash seven times in the
river Jordan, and on Naaman’s observance of this prescription the
leprosy actually disappeared but was subsequently transferred by the
prophet to his deceitful servant Gehazi (2 Kings v.). I know not what
we ought to need beyond these Old Testament narratives to account for
the origin of the evangelical anecdotes. What the first Goël was
empowered to do in the fulfilment of Jehovah’s commission, the second
Goël must also be able to perform and the greatest of prophets must not
fall short of the achievements of any one prophet. If then, the cure of
leprosy was without doubt included in the Jewish idea of the Messiah;
the Christians, who believed the Messiah to have really appeared in the
person of Jesus, had a yet more decided inducement to glorify his
history by such traits, taken from the Mosaic and prophetic legend;
with the single difference that, in accordance with the mild spirit of
the New Covenant (Luke ix. 55 f.) they dropped the punitive side of the
old miracles.

Somewhat more plausible is the appeal of the rationalists to the
absence of an express statement, that a miraculous cure of the leprosy
is intended in the narrative of the ten lepers, given by Luke alone
(xvii. 12 ff.). Here neither do the lepers expressly desire to be
cured, their words being only, Have mercy on us; nor does Jesus utter a
command directly referring to such a result, for he merely enjoins them
to show themselves to the priests: and the rationalists avail
themselves of this indirectness in his reply, as a help to their
supposition, that Jesus, after ascertaining the state of the patients,
encouraged them to subject themselves to the examination of the
priests, which resulted in their being pronounced clean, and the
Samaritan returned to thank Jesus for His encouraging advice. [1262]
But mere advice does not call forth so ardent a demonstration of
gratitude as is here described by the words ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον, he
fell down on his face; still less could Jesus desire that because his
advice had had a favourable issue, all the ten should have returned,
and returned to glorify God—for what? that he had enabled Jesus to give
them such good advice? No: a more real service is here presupposed; and
this the narrative itself implies, both in attributing the return of
the Samaritan to his discovery that he was healed (ἰδὼν ὅτι ἰάθη), and
in making Jesus indicate the reason why thanks were to be expected from
all, by the words: οὐχὶ οἱ δέκα ἐκαθαρίσθησαν; Were there not ten
cleansed? Both these expressions can only by an extremely forced
interpretation be made to imply, that because the lepers saw the
correctness of the judgment of Jesus in pronouncing them clean, one of
them actually returned to thank him, and the others ought to have
returned. But that which is most decisive against the natural
explanation is this sentence: And as they went they were cleansed, ἐν
τῷ ὑπάγειν αὐτοὺς ἐκαθαρίσθησαν. If the narrator intended, according to
the above interpretation, merely to say: the lepers having gone to the
priest, and showed themselves to him, were pronounced clean: he must at
least have said: πορευθέντες ἐκαθαρίσθησαν, having made the journey
they were cleansed, whereas the deliberate choice of the expression ἐν
τῷ ὑπάγειν (while in the act of going), incontestibly shows that a
healing effected during the journey is intended. Thus here also we have
a miraculous cure of leprosy, which is burdened with the same
difficulties as the former anecdote; the origin of which is, however,
as easily explained.

But in this narrative there is a peculiarity which distinguishes it
from the former. Here there is no simple cure, nay, the cure does not
properly form the main object of the narrative: this lies rather in the
different conduct of the cured, and the question of Jesus, were there
not ten cleansed, etc. (v. 17), forms the point of the whole, which
thus closes altogether morally, and seems to have been narrated for the
sake of the instruction conveyed. [1263] That the one who appears as a
model of thankfulness happens to be a Samaritan, cannot pass without
remark, in the narrative of the Evangelist who alone has the parable of
the Good Samaritan. As there two Jews, a priest and a Levite, show
themselves pitiless, while a Samaritan, on the contrary, proves
exemplarily compassionate: so here, nine unthankful Jews stand
contrasted with one thankful Samaritan. May it not be then (in so far
as the sudden cure of these lepers cannot be historical) that we have
here, as well as there, a parable pronounced by Jesus, in which he
intended to represent gratitude, as in the other case compassion, in
the example of a Samaritan? It would then be with the present narrative
as some have maintained it to be with the history of the temptation.
But in relation to this we have both shown, and given the reason, that
Jesus never made himself immediately figure in a parable, and this he
must have done if he had given a narrative of ten lepers once healed by
him. If then we are not inclined to relinquish the idea that something
originally parabolic is the germ of our present narrative, we must
represent the case to ourselves thus: from the legends of cures
performed by Jesus on lepers, on the one hand; and on the other, from
parables in which Jesus (as in that of the compassionate Samaritan)
presented individuals of this hated race as models of various virtues,
the Christian legend wove this narrative, which is therefore partly an
account of a miracle and partly a parable.

§ 95.

CURES OF THE BLIND.

One of the first places among the sufferers cured by Jesus is filled
(also agreeably to the nature of the climate [1264]) by the blind, of
whose cure again we read not only in the general descriptions which are
given by the Evangelists (Matt. xv. 30 f.; Luke vii. 21), and by Jesus
himself (Matt. xi. 5), of his messianic works, but also in some
detailed narratives of particular cases. We have indeed more of these
cures than of the kind last noticed, doubtless because blindness, as a
malady affecting the most delicate and complicated of organs, admitted
a greater diversity of treatment. One of these cures of the blind is
common to all the synoptical writers; the others (with the exception of
the blind and dumb demoniac in Matthew, whom we need not here
reconsider) are respectively peculiar to the first, second, and fourth
Evangelists.

The narrative common to all the three synoptical writers is that of a
cure of blindness wrought by Jesus at Jericho, on his last journey to
Jerusalem (Matt. xx. 29 parall.): but there are important differences
both as to the object of the cure, Matthew having two blind men, the
two other Evangelists only one; and also as to its locality, Luke
making it take place on the entrance of Jesus into Jericho, Matthew and
Mark on his departure out of Jericho. Moreover the touching of the
eyes, by which, according to the first evangelist, Jesus effected the
cure, is not mentioned by the two other narrators. Of these differences
the latter may be explained by the observation, that though Mark and
Luke are silent as to the touching, they do not therefore deny it: the
first, relative to the number cured, presents a heavier difficulty. To
remove this it has been said by those who give the prior authority to
Matthew, that one of the two blind men was possibly more remarkable
than the other, on which account he alone was retained in the first
tradition; but Matthew, as an eye-witness, afterwards supplied the
second blind man. On this supposition Luke and Mark do not contradict
Matthew, for they nowhere deny that another besides their single blind
man was healed; neither does Matthew contradict them, for where there
are two, there is also one. [1265] But when the simple narrator speaks
of one individual in whom something extraordinary has happened, and
even, like Mark, mentions his name, it is plain that he tacitly
contradicts the statement that it happened in two individuals—to
contradict it expressly there was no occasion. Let us turn then to the
other side and, taking the singular number of Mark and Luke as the
original one, conjecture that the informant of Matthew (the latter
being scarcely on this hypothesis an eye-witness) probably mistook the
blind man’s guide for a second blind man. [1266] Hereby a decided
contradiction is admitted, while to account for it an extremely
improbable cause is superfluously invented. The third difference
relates to the place; Matthew and Mark have ἐκπορευομένων ἀπὸ, as they
departed from, Luke, ἐν τῷ ἐγγίζειν εἰς Ἱεριχὼ, as they came nigh to
Jericho. If there be any whom the words themselves fail to convince
that this difference is irreconcilable, let them read the forced
attempts to render these passages consistent with each other, which
have been made by commentators from Grotius down to Paulus.

Hence it was a better expedient which the older harmonists [1267]
adopted, and which has been approved by some modern critics. [1268] In
consideration of the last-named difference, they here distinguished two
events, and held that Jesus cured a blind man first on his entrance
into Jericho (according to Luke), and then again on his departure from
that place (according to Matthew and Luke). Of the other divergency,
relative to the number, these harmonists believed that they had
disencumbered themselves by the supposition that Matthew connected in
one event the two blind men, the one cured on entering and the other on
leaving Jericho, and gave the latter position to the cure of both. But
if so much weight is allowed to the statement of Matthew relative to
the locality of the cure, as to make it, in conjunction with that of
Mark, a reason for supposing two cures, one at each extremity of the
town, I know not why equal credit should not be given to his numerical
statement, and Storr appears to me to proceed more consistently when,
allowing equal weight to both differences, he supposes that Jesus on
his entrance into Jericho, cured one blind man (Luke) and subsequently
on his departure two (Matthew). [1269] The claim of Matthew is thus
fully vindicated, but on the other hand that of Mark is denied. For if
the latter be associated with Matthew, as is here the case, for the
sake of his locality, it is necessary to do violence to his numerical
statement, which taken alone would rather require him to be associated
with Luke; so that to avoid impeaching either of his statements, which
on this system of interpretation is not admissible, his narrative must
be equally detached from that of both the other Evangelists. Thus we
should have three distinct cures of the blind at Jericho: 1st, the cure
of one blind man on the entrance of Jesus, 2nd, that of another on his
departure, and 3rd, the cure of two blind men, also during the
departure; in all, of four blind men. Now to separate the second and
third cases is indeed difficult. For it will not be maintained that
Jesus can have gone out by two different gates at the same time, and it
is nearly as difficult to imagine that having merely set out with the
intention of leaving Jericho, he returned again into the town, and not
until afterwards took his final departure. But, viewing the case more
generally, it is scarcely an admissible supposition, that three
incidents so entirely similar thus fell together in a group. The
accumulation of cures of the blind is enough to surprise us; but the
behaviour of the companions of Jesus is incomprehensible; for after
having seen in the first instance, on entering Jericho, that they had
acted in opposition to the designs of Jesus by rebuking the blind man
for his importunity, since Jesus called the man to him, they
nevertheless repeated this conduct on the second and even on the third
occasion. Storr, it is true, is not disconcerted by this repetition in
at least two incidents of this kind, for he maintains that no one knows
whether those who had enjoined silence on going out of Jericho were not
altogether different persons from those who had done the like on
entering the town: indeed, supposing them to be the same, such a
repetition of conduct which Jesus had implicitly disapproved, however
unbecoming, was not therefore impossible, since even the disciples who
had been present at the first miraculous feeding, yet asked, before the
second, whence bread could be had for such a multitude?—but this is
merely to argue the reality of one impossibility from that of another,
as we shall presently see when we enter on the consideration of the two
miraculous feedings. Further, not only the conduct of the followers of
Jesus, but also almost every feature of the incident must have been
repeated in the most extraordinary manner. In the one case as in the
other, the blind men cry, Have mercy upon us, (or me,) thou son of
David; then (after silence has been enjoined on them by the spectators)
Jesus commands that they should be brought to him: he next asks what
they will that he should do to them; they answer, that we may receive
our sight; he complies with their wish, and they gratefully follow him.
That all this was so exactly repeated thrice, or even twice, is an
improbability amounting to an impossibility; and we must suppose,
according to the hypothesis adopted by Sieffert in such cases, a
legendary assimilation of different facts, or a traditionary variation
of a single occurrence. If, in order to arrive at a decision, it be
asked: what could more easily happen, when once the intervention of the
legend is presupposed, than that one and the same history should be
told first of one, then of several, first of the entrance, then of the
departure? it will not be necessary to discuss the other possibility,
since this is so incomparably more probable that there cannot be even a
momentary hesitation in embracing it as real. But in thus reducing the
number of the facts, we must not with Sieffert stop short at two, for
in that case not only do the difficulties with respect to the
repetition of the same incident remain, but we fall into a want of
logical sequency in admitting one divergency (in the number) as
unessential, for the sake of removing another (in the locality). If it
be further asked, supposing only one incident to be here narrated,
which of the several narratives is the original one? the statements as
to the locality will not aid us in coming to a decision; for Jesus
might just as well meet a blind man on entering as on leaving Jericho.
The difference in the number is more likely to furnish us with a basis
for a decision, and it will be in favour of Mark and Luke, who have
each only one blind man; not, it is true, for the reason alleged by
Schleiermacher, [1270] namely, that Mark, by his mention of the blind
man’s name, evinces a more accurate acquaintance with the
circumstances; for Mark, from his propensity to individualize out of
his own imagination, ought least of all to be trusted with respect to
names which are given by him alone. Our decision is founded on another
circumstance.

It seems probable that Matthew was led to add a second blind man by his
recollection of a previous cure of two blind men narrated by him alone
(ix. 27 ff.). Here, likewise, when Jesus is in the act of
departure,—from the place, namely, where he had raised the ruler’s
daughter,—two blind men follow him (those at Jericho are sitting by the
way side), and in a similar manner cry for mercy of the Son of David,
who here also, as in the other instance, according to Matthew,
immediately cures them by touching their eyes. With these similarities
there are certainly no slight divergencies; nothing is here said of an
injunction to the blind men to be silent, on the part of the companions
of Jesus; and, while at Jericho Jesus immediately calls the blind men
to him, in the earlier case, they come in the first instance to him
when he is again in the house; further, while there he asks them, what
they will have him to do to them? here he asks, if they believe him
able to cure them? Lastly, the prohibition to tell what had happened,
is peculiar to the earlier incident. The two narratives standing in
this relation to each other, an assimilation of them might have taken
place thus: Matthew transferred the two blind men and the touch of
Jesus from the first anecdote to the second; the form of the appeal
from the blind men, from the second to the first.

The two histories, as they are given, present but few data for a
natural explanation. Nevertheless the rationalistic commentators have
endeavoured to frame such an explanation. When Jesus in the earlier
occurrence asked the blind men whether they had confidence in his
power, he wished, say they, to ascertain whether their trust in him
would remain firm during the operation, and whether they would
punctually observe his further prescriptions; [1271] having then
entered the house, in order to be free from interruption, he examined,
for the first time, their disease, and when he found it curable
(according to Venturini [1272] it was caused by the fine dust of that
country), he assured the sufferers that the result should be according
to the measure of their faith. Hereupon Paulus merely says briefly,
that Jesus removed the obstruction to their vision; but he also must
have imagined to himself something similar to what is described in
detail by Venturini, who makes Jesus anoint the eyes of the blind men
with a strong water prepared beforehand, and thus cleanse them from the
irritating dust, so that in a short time their sight returned. But this
natural explanation has not the slightest root in the text; for neither
can the faith (πίστις) required from the patient imply anything else
than, as in all similar cases, trust in the miraculous power of Jesus,
nor can the word ἥψατο, he touched, signify a surgical operation, but
merely that touch which appears in so many of the evangelical curative
miracles, whether as a sign or a conductor of the healing power of
Jesus; of further prescriptions for the completion of the cure there is
absolutely nothing. It is not otherwise with the cure of the blind at
Jericho, where, moreover, the two middle Evangelists do not even
mention the touching of the eyes.

If then, according to the meaning of the narrators, the blind
instantaneously receive their sight as a consequence of the simple word
or touch of Jesus, there are the same difficulties to be encountered
here as in the former case of the lepers. For a disease of the eyes,
however slight, as it is only engendered gradually by the reiterated
action of the disturbing cause, is still less likely to disappear on a
word or a touch; it requires very complicated treatment, partly
surgical, partly medical, and this must be pre-eminently the case with
blindness, supposing it to be of a curable kind. How should we
represent to ourselves the sudden restoration of vision to a blind eye
by a word or a touch? as purely miraculous and magical? That would be
to give up thinking on the subject. As magnetic? There is no precedent
of magnetism having influence over a disease of this nature. Or,
lastly, as psychical? But blindness is something so independent of the
mental life, so entirely corporeal, that the idea of its removal at
all, still less of its sudden removal by means of a mental operation,
is not to be entertained. We must therefore acknowledge that an
historical conception of these narratives is more than merely difficult
to us; and we proceed to inquire whether we cannot show it to be
probable that legends of this kind should arise unhistorically.

We have already quoted the passage in which, according to the first and
third gospels, Jesus in reply to the messengers of the Baptist who had
to ask him whether he were the ἐρχόμενος (he that should come), appeals
to his works. Now he here mentions in the very first place the cure of
the blind, a significant proof that this particular miracle was
expected from the Messiah, his words being taken from Isa. xxxv. 5, a
prophecy interpreted messianically; and in a rabbinical passage above
cited, among the wonders which Jehovah is to perform in the messianic
times, this is enumerated, that he oculos cæcorum aperiet, id quod per
Elisam fecit. [1273] Now Elisha did not cure a positive blindness, but
merely on one occasion opened the eyes of his servant to a perception
of the supersensual world, and on another, removed a blindness which
had been inflicted on his enemies in consequence of his prayer (2 Kings
vi. 17–20). That these deeds of Elisha were conceived, doubtless with
reference to the passage of Isaiah, as a real opening of the eyes of
the blind, is proved by the above rabbinical passage, and hence cures
of the blind were expected from the Messiah. [1274] Now if the
Christian community, proceeding as it did from the bosom of Judaism,
held Jesus to be the messianic personage, it must manifest the tendency
to ascribe to him every messianic predicate, and therefore the one in
question.

The narrative of the cure of a blind man at Bethsaida, and that of the
cure of a man that was deaf and had an impediment in his speech, which
are both peculiar to Mark (viii. 22 ff., vii. 32 ff.), and which we
shall therefore consider together, are the especial favourites of all
rationalistic commentators. If, they exclaim, in the other evangelical
narratives of cures, the accessory circumstances by which the facts
might be explained were but preserved as they are here, we could prove
historically that Jesus did not heal by his mere word, and profound
investigators might discover the natural means by which his cures were
effected! [1275] And in fact chiefly on the ground of these narratives,
in connexion with particular features in other parts of the second
gospel, Mark has of late been represented, even by theologians who do
not greatly favour this method of interpretation, as the patron of the
naturalistic system. [1276]

In the two cures before us, it is at once a good augury for the
rationalistic commentators that Jesus takes both the patients apart
from the multitude, for no other purpose, as they believe, than that of
examining their condition medically, and ascertaining whether it were
susceptible of relief. Such an examination is, according to these
commentators, intimated by the Evangelist himself, when he describes
Jesus as putting his fingers into the ears of the deaf man, by which
means he discovered that the deafness was curable, arising probably
from the hardening of secretions in the ear, and hereupon, also with
the finger, he removed the hindrance to hearing. Not only are the
words, he put his fingers into his ears, ἔβαλε τοὺς δακτύλους εἰς τὰ
ὦτα, interpreted as denoting a surgical operation, but the words, he
touched his tongue, ἥψατο τῆς γλώσσης, are supposed to imply that Jesus
cut the ligament of the tongue in the degree necessary to restore the
pliancy which the organ had lost. In like manner, in the case of the
blind man, the words, when he had put his hands upon him, ἐπιθεὶς τὰς
χεῖρας αὐτῷ, are explained as probably meaning that Jesus by pressing
the eyes of the patient removed the crystalline lens which had become
opaque. A further help to this mode of interpretation is found in the
circumstance that both to the tongue of the man who had an impediment
in his speech, and to the eyes of the blind man, Jesus applied spittle.
Saliva has in itself, particularly in the opinion of ancient
physicians, [1277] a salutary effect on the eyes; as, however, it in no
case acts so rapidly as instantaneously to cure blindness and a defect
in the organs of speech, it is conjectured, with respect to both
instances, that Jesus used the saliva to moisten some medicament,
probably a caustic powder; that the blind man only heard the spitting
and saw nothing of the mixture of the medicaments, and that the deaf
man, in accordance with the spirit of the age, gave little heed to the
natural means, or that the legend did not preserve them. In the
narrative of the deaf man the cure is simply stated, but that of the
blind man is yet further distinguished, by its representing the
restoration of his sight circumstantially, as gradual. After Jesus had
touched the eyes of the patient as above mentioned, he asked him if he
saw aught; not at all, observes Paulus, in the manner of a
miracle-worker, who is sure of the result, but precisely in the manner
of a physician, who after performing an operation endeavours to
ascertain if the patient is benefited. The blind man answers that he
sees, but first indistinctly, so that men seem to him like trees. Here
apparently the rationalistic commentator may triumphantly ask the
orthodox one: if divine power for the working of cures stood at the
command of Jesus, why did he not at once cure the blind man perfectly?
If the disease presented an obstacle which he was not able to overcome,
is it not clear from thence that his power was a finite, ordinarily
human power? Jesus once more puts his hands on the eyes of the blind
man, in order to aid the effect of the first operation, and only then
is the cure completed. [1278]

The complacency of the rationalistic commentators in these narratives
of Mark, is liable to be disturbed by the frigid observation, that,
here also, the circumstances which are requisite to render the natural
explanation possible are not given by the Evangelists themselves, but
are interpolated by the said commentators. For in both cures Mark
furnishes the saliva only; the efficacious powder is infused by Paulus
and Venturini: it is they alone who make the introduction of the
fingers into the ears first a medical examination and then an
operation; and it is they alone who, contrary to the signification of
language, explain the words ἐπιτιθέναι τὰς χεῖρας ἐπὶ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς,
to lay the hands upon the eyes, as implying a surgical operation on
those organs. Again, the circumstance that Jesus takes the blind man
aside, is shown by the context (vii. 36, viii. 26) to have reference to
the design of Jesus to keep the miraculous result a secret, not to the
desire to be undisturbed in the application of natural means: so that
all the supports of the rationalistic explanation sink beneath it, and
the orthodox one may confront it anew. This regards the touch and the
spittle either as a condescension towards the sufferers, who were
thereby made more thoroughly sensible to whose power they owed their
cure; or as a conducting medium for the spiritual power of Christ, a
medium with which he might nevertheless have dispensed. [1279] That the
cure was gradual, is on this system accounted for by the supposition,
that Jesus intended by means of the partial cure to animate the faith
of the blind man, and only when he was thus rendered worthy was he
completely cured; [1280] or it is conjectured that, owing to the malady
being deep-seated, a sudden cure would perhaps have been dangerous.
[1281]

But by these attempts to interpret the evangelical narratives,
especially in the last particular, the supernaturalistic theologians,
who bring them forward, betake themselves to the same ground as the
rationalists, for they are equally open to the charge of introducing
into the narratives what is not in the remotest degree intimated by the
text. For where, in the procedure of Jesus towards the blind man, is
there a trace that his design in the first instance was to prove and to
strengthen the faith of the patient? In that case, instead of the
expression, He asked him if he saw aught, which relates only to his
external condition, we must rather have read, as in Matt. ix. 28,
Believe ye that I am able to do this? But what shall we say to the
conjecture that a sudden cure might have been injurious! The curative
act of a worker of miracles is (according to Olshausen’s own opinion)
not to be regarded as the merely negative one of the removal of a
disease, but also as the positive one of an impartation of new and
fresh strength to the organ affected, whence the idea of danger from an
instantaneous cure when wrought by miraculous agency, is not to be
entertained. Thus no motive is to be discovered which could induce
Jesus to put a restraint on the immediate action of his miraculous
power, and it must therefore have been restricted, independently of his
volition, by the force of the deep-seated malady. This, however, is
entirely opposed to the idea of the gospels, which represent the
miraculous power of Jesus as superior to death itself; it cannot
therefore have been the meaning of our Evangelists. If we take into
consideration the peculiar characteristics of Mark as an author, it
will appear that his only aim is to give dramatic effect to the scene.
Every sudden result is difficult to bring before the imagination: he
who wishes to give to another a vivid idea of a rapid movement, first
goes through it slowly, and a quick result is perfectly conceivable
only when the narrator has shown the process in detail. Consequently a
writer whose object it is to assist as far as may be the imagination of
his reader, will wherever it is possible exhibit the propensity to
render the immediate mediate, and when recording a sudden result, still
to bring forward the successive steps that led to it. [1282] So here
Mark, or his informant, supposed that he was contributing greatly to
the dramatic effect, when he inserted between the blindness of the man
and the entire restoration of his sight, the partial cure, or the
seeing men as trees, and every reader will say, from his own feeling,
that this object is fully achieved. But herein, as others also have
remarked, [1283] Mark is so far from manifesting an inclination to the
natural conception of such miracles, that he, on the contrary, not
seldom labours to aggrandize the miracle, as we have partly seen in the
case of the Gadarene, and shall yet have frequent reason to remark. In
a similar manner may also be explained why Mark in these narratives
which are peculiar to him (and elsewhere also, as in vi. 13, where he
observes that the disciples anointed the sick with oil), mentions the
application of external means and manifestations in miraculous cures.
That these means, the saliva particularly, were not in the popular
opinion of that age naturally efficacious causes of the cure, we may be
convinced by the narrative concerning Vespasian quoted above, as also
by passages of Jewish and Roman authors, according to which saliva was
believed to have a magical potency, especially against diseases of the
eye. [1284] Hence Olshausen perfectly reproduces the conception of that
age when he explains the touch, saliva, and the like, to be conductors
of the superior power resident in the worker of miracles. We cannot
indeed make this opinion ours, unless with Olshausen we proceed upon
the supposition of a parallelism between the miraculous power of Jesus
and the agency of animal magnetism: a supposition which, for the
explanation of the miracles of Jesus, especially of the one before us,
is inadequate and therefore superfluous. Hence we put this means merely
to the account of the Evangelist. To him also we may then doubtless
refer the taking aside of the blind man, the exaggerated description of
the astonishment of the people, (ὑπερπερισσῶς ἐξπλήσσοντο ἅπαντες, vii.
37,) and the strict prohibition to tell any man of the cure. This
secrecy gave the affair a mysterious aspect, which, as we may gather
from other passages, was pleasing to Mark. We have another trait
belonging to the mysterious in the narratives of the cure of the deaf
man, where Mark says, And looking up to heaven he sighed (vii. 34).
What cause was there for sighing at that particular moment? Was it the
misery of the human race, [1285] which must have been long known to
Jesus from many melancholy examples? Or shall we evade the difficulty
by explaining the expression as implying nothing further than silent
prayer or audible speech? [1286] Whoever knows Mark will rather
recognise the exaggerating narrator in the circumstance that he
ascribes to Jesus a deep emotion, on an occasion which could not indeed
have excited it, but which, being accompanied by it, had a more
mysterious appearance. But above all, there appears to me to be an air
of mystery in this, that Mark gives the authoritative word with which
Jesus opened the ears of the deaf man in its original Syriac form,
ἐφφαθὰ, as on the resuscitation of the daughter of Jairus, this
Evangelist alone has the words ταλιθὰ κοῦμι (v. 41). It is indeed said
that these expressions are anything rather than magical forms; [1287]
but that Mark chooses to give these authoritative words in a language
foreign to his readers, to whom he is obliged at the same time to
explain them, nevertheless proves that he must have attributed to this
original form a special significance, which, as it appears from the
context, can only have been a magical one. This inclination to the
mysterious we may now retrospectively find indicated in the application
of those outward means which have no relation to the result; for the
mysterious consists precisely in the presentation of infinite power
through a finite medium, in the combination of the strongest effect
with apparently inefficacious means.

If we have been unable to receive as historical the simple narrative
given by all the synoptical writers of the cure of the blind man at
Jericho, we are still less prepared to award this character to the
mysterious description, given by Mark alone, of the cure of a blind man
at Bethsaida, and we must regard it as a product of the legend, with
more or less addition from the evangelical narrator. The same judgment
must be pronounced on his narrative of the cure of the deaf man who had
an impediment in his speech κωφὸς μογιλάλος; for, together with the
negative reasons already adduced against its historical credibility,
there are not wanting positive causes for its mythical origin, since
the prophecy relating to the messianic times, τότε ὦτα κωφῶν
ἀκούσονται—τρανὴ δὲ ἔσται γλῶσσα μογιλάλων, the ears of the deaf shall
be unstopped, the tongue of the dumb shall sing (Isa. xxxv. 5, 6), was
in existence, and according to Matt. xi. 5, was interpreted literally.

If the narratives of Mark which we have just considered, seem at the
first glance to be favourable to the natural explanation, the narrative
of John, chap. ix., must, one would think, be unfavourable and
destructive to it; for here the question is not concerning a blind man,
whose malady having originated accidentally, might be easier to remove,
but concerning a man born blind. Nevertheless, as the expositors of
this class are sharp-sighted, and do not soon lose courage, they are
able even here to discover much in their favour. In the first place,
they find that the condition of the patient is but vaguely described,
however definite the expression, blind from his birth, τυφλὸν ἐκ
γενετῆς may seem to sound. The statement of time which this expression
includes, Paulus, it is true, refrains from overthrowing (though his
forbearance is unwilling and in fact incomplete): hence he has the more
urgent necessity for attempting to shake the statement as to quality.
Τυφλὸς is not to signify total blindness, and as Jesus tells the man to
go to the pool of Siloam, not to get himself led thither, he must have
still had some glimmering of eye-sight, by means of which he could
himself find the way thither. Still more help do the rationalistic
commentators find for themselves in the mode of cure adopted by Jesus.
He says beforehand (v. 4) he must work the works of him that sent him
while it is day, ἕως ἡμέρα ἐστὶν, for in the night no man can work; a
sufficient proof that he had not the idea of curing the blind man by a
mere word, which he might just as well have uttered in the night—that,
on the contrary, he intended to undertake a medical or surgical
operation, for which certainly daylight was required. Further, the
clay, πηλὸς, which Jesus made with his spittle, and with which he
anointed the eyes of the blind man, is still more favourable to the
natural explanation than the expression πτύσας having spit, in a former
case, and hence it is a fertile source of questions and conjectures.
Whence did John know that Jesus took nothing more than spittle and dust
to make his eye-salve? Was he himself present, or did he understand it
merely from the narrative of the cured blind man? The latter could not:
with his then weak glimmering of sight, correctly see what Jesus took:
perhaps Jesus while he mixed a salve out of other ingredients
accidentally spat upon the ground, and the patient fell into the error
of supposing that the spittle made part of the salve. Still more: while
or before Jesus put something on the eyes, did he not also remove
something by extraction or friction, or otherwise effect a change in
the state of these organs? This would be an essential fact which might
easily be mistaken by the blind man and the spectators for a merely
accessory circumstance. Lastly, the washing in the pool of Siloam which
was prescribed to the patient was perhaps continued many days—was a
protracted cure by means of the bath—and the words ἦλθε βλέπων he came
seeing, do not necessarily imply that he came thus after his first
bath, but that at a convenient time after the completion of his cure,
he came again seeing. [1288]

But, to begin at the beginning, the meaning here given to ἡμέρα and νὺξ
is too shallow even for Venturini, [1289] and especially clashes with
the context (v. 5), which throughout demands an interpretation of the
words with reference to the speedy departure of Jesus. [1290] As to the
conjecture that the clay was made of medicinal ingredients of some kind
or other, it is the more groundless, since it cannot be said here, as
in the former case, that only so much is stated as the patient could
learn by his hearing or by a slight glimmering of light, for, on this
occasion, Jesus undertook the cure, not in private, but in the presence
of his disciples. Concerning the further supposition of previous
surgical operations, by which the anointing and washing, alone
mentioned in the text, are reduced to mere accessories, nothing more is
to be said, than that by this example we may see how completely the
spirit of natural explanation despises all restraints, not scrupling to
pervert the clearest words of the text in support of its arbitrary
combinations. Further, when, from the circumstance that Jesus ordered
the blind man to go to the pool of Siloam, it is inferred that he must
have had a share of light, we may remark, in opposition to this, that
Jesus merely told the patient whither he should go (ὑπάγεν); how he was
to go, whether alone or with a guide, he left to his own discretion.
Lastly, when the closely connected words he went his way, therefore,
and washed and came seeing, ἀπῆλθεν οὖν καὶ ἐνίψατο καὶ ἦλθε βλέπων (v.
7; comp. v. 11) are stretched out into a process of cure lasting
several weeks, it is just as if the words veni, vidi, vici, were
translated thus: After my arrival I reconnoitred for several days,
fought battles at suitable intervals, and finally remained conqueror.

Thus here also the natural explanation will not serve us, and we have
still before us the narrative of a man born blind, miraculously cured
by Jesus. That the doubts already expressed as to the reality of the
cures of the blind, apply with increased force to the case of a man
born blind, is self-evident. And they are aided in this instance by
certain special critical reasons. Not one of three first Evangelists
mentions this cure. Now, if in the formation of the apostolic
tradition, and in the selection which it made from among the miracles
of Jesus, any kind of reason was exercised, it must have taken the
shape of the two following rules: first, to choose the greater miracles
before those apparently less important; and secondly, those with which
edifying discourses were connected, before those which were not thus
distinguished. In the first respect, it is plain that the cure of a man
blind from his birth, as the incomparably more difficult miracle, was
by all means to be chosen rather than that of a man in whom blindness
had supervened, and it is not to be conceived why, if Jesus really gave
sight to a man born blind, nothing of this should have entered into the
evangelical tradition, and from thence into the synoptical gospels. It
is true that with this consideration of the magnitude of the miracles,
a regard to the edifying nature of the discourses connected with them
might not seldom come into collision, so that a less striking, but from
the conversations which it caused, a more instructive miracle, might be
preferred to one more striking, but presenting less of the latter kind
of interest. But the cure of the blind man in John is accompanied by
very remarkable conversations, first, of Jesus with the disciples,
then, of the cured man with the magistrates, and lastly of Jesus with
the cured man, such as there is no trace of in the synoptical cures of
the blind; conversations in which, if not the entire course of the
dialogue, at least some aphoristic pearls (as v. 4, 5, 39), were
admirably suited to the purpose of three first Evangelists. These
writers, therefore, could not have failed to introduce the cure of the
man born blind into their histories, instead of their less remarkable
and less edifying cures of the blind, if the former had made a part of
the evangelical tradition whence they drew. It might possibly have
remained unknown to the general Christian tradition, if it had taken
place at a time and under circumstances which did not favour its
promulgation—if it had been effected in a remote corner of the country,
without further witnesses. But Jesus performed this miracle in
Jerusalem, in the circle of his disciples; it made a great sensation in
the city, and was highly offensive to the magistracy, hence the affair
must have been known if it had really occurred; and as we do not find
it in the common evangelical tradition, the suspicion arises that it
perhaps never did occur.

But it will be said, the writer who attests it is the Apostle John.
This, however, is too improbable, not only on account of the incredible
nature of the contents of the narrative, which could thus hardly have
proceeded from an eyewitness, but also from another reason. The
narrator interprets the name of the pool, Siloam, by the Greek
ἀπεσταλμένος (v. 7); a false explanation, for one who is sent is called
‏שָׁלוּחַ‎, whereas ‏שִּׁלחַ‎ according to the most probable interpretation
signifies a waterfall. [1291] The Evangelist, however, chose the above
interpretation, because he sought for some significant relation between
the name of the pool, and the sending thither of the blind man, and
thus seems to have imagined that the pool had by a special providence
received the name of Sent, because at a future time the Messiah, as a
manifestation of his glory, was to send thither a blind man. [1292]
Now, we grant that an apostle might give a grammatically incorrect
explanation, in so far as he is not held to be inspired, and that even
a native of Palestine might mistake the etymology of Hebrew words, as
the Old Testament itself shows; nevertheless, such a play upon words
looks more like the laboured attempt of a writer remote from the event,
than of an eye-witness. The eye-witness would have had enough of
important matters in the miracle which he had beheld, and the
conversation to which he had listened; only a remote narrator could
fall into the triviality of trying to extort a significant meaning from
the smallest accessory circumstance. Tholuck and Lücke are highly
revolted by this allegory, which, as the latter expresses himself,
approaches to absolute folly, hence they are unwilling to admit that it
proceeded from John, and regard it as a gloss. As, however, all
critical authorities, except one of minor importance, present this
particular, such a position is sheer arbitrariness, and the only choice
left us is either with Olshausen, to edify ourselves by this
interpretation as an apostolic one, [1293] or, with the author of the
Probabilia, to number it among the indications that the fourth gospel
had not an apostolic origin. [1294]

The reasons which might prevent the author of the fourth gospel, or the
tradition whence he drew, from resting contented with the cures of the
blind narrated by the synoptical writers, and thus induce the one or
the other to frame the history before us, are already pointed out by
the foregoing remarks. The observation has been already made by others,
that the fourth Evangelist has fewer miracles than the synoptical
writers, but that this deficiency in number is compensated by a
superiority in magnitude. [1295] Thus while the other Evangelists have
simple paralytics cured by Jesus, the fourth gospel has one who had
been lame thirty-eight years; while, in the former, Jesus resuscitates
persons who had just expired, in the latter, he calls back to life one
who had lain in the grave four days, in whom therefore it might be
presumed that decomposition had begun; and so here, instead of a cure
of simple blindness, we have that of a man born blind,—a heightening of
the miracle altogether suited to the apologetic and dogmatic tendency
of this gospel. In what way the author, or the particular tradition
which he followed, might be led to depict the various details of the
narrative, is easily seen. The act of spitting, πτύειν, was common in
magical cures of the eyes; clay, πηλὸς, was a ready substitute for an
eye-salve, and elsewhere occurs in magical proceedings; [1296] the
command to wash in the pool of Siloam may have been an imitation of
Elisha’s order, that the leper Naaman should bathe seven times in the
river Jordan. The conversations connected with the cure partly proceed
from the tendency of the Gospel of John already remarked by Storr,
namely, to attest and to render as authentic as possible both the cure
of the man, and the fact of his having been born blind, whence the
repeated examination of the cured man, and even of his parents; partly
they turn upon the symbolical meaning of the expressions, blind and
seeing, day and night,—a meaning which it is true is not foreign to the
synoptical writers, but which specifically belongs to the circle of
images in favour with John.

§ 96.

CURES OF PARALYTICS. DID JESUS REGARD DISEASES AS PUNISHMENTS?

An important feature in the history of the cure of the man born blind
has been passed over, because it can only be properly estimated in
connexion with a corresponding one in the synoptical narratives of the
cure of a paralytic (Matt. ix. 1 ff.; Mark ii. 1 ff.; Luke v. 17 ff.),
which we have in the next place to consider. Here Jesus first declares
to the sick man: ἀφέωνταί σοί αἱ ἁμαρτίαι σου, thy sins are forgiven
thee, and then as a proof that he had authority to forgive sins, he
cures him. It is impossible not to perceive in this a reference to the
Jewish opinion, that any evil befalling an individual, and especially
disease, was a punishment of his sins; an opinion which, presented in
its main elements in the Old Testament (Lev. xxvi. 14 ff.; Deut.
xxviii. 15 ff.; 2 Chron. xxi. 15, 18 f.) was expressed in the most
definite manner by the later Jews. [1297] Had we possessed that
synoptical narrative only, we must have believed that Jesus shared the
opinion of his cotemporary fellow-countrymen on this subject, since he
proves his authority to forgive sins (as the cause of disease) by an
example of his power to cure disease (the consequence of sin). But, it
is said, there are other passages where Jesus directly contradicts this
Jewish opinion; whence it follows, that what he then says to the
paralytic was a mere accommodation to the ideas of the sick man,
intended to promote his cure. [1298]

The principal passage commonly adduced in support of this position, is
the introduction to the history of the man born blind, which was last
considered (John ix. 1–3). Here the disciples, seeing on the road the
man whom they knew to have been blind from his birth, put to Jesus the
question, whether his blindness was the consequence of his own sins, or
of those of his parents? The case was a peculiarly difficult one on the
Jewish theory of retribution. With respect to diseases which attach
themselves to a man in his course through life, an observer who has
once taken a certain bias, may easily discover or assume some peculiar
delinquencies on the part of this man as their cause. With respect to
inborn diseases, on the contrary, though the old Hebraic opinion (Exod.
xx. 5; Deut. v. 9; 2 Sam. iii. 29), it is true, presented the
explanation that by these the sins of the fathers were visited on their
posterity: yet as, for human regulations, the Mosaic law itself
ordained that each should suffer for his own sins alone (Deut. xxiv.
16; 2 Kings xiv. 6); and as also, in relation to the penal justice of
the Divine Being, the prophets predicted a similar dispensation (Jer.
xxxi. 30; Ezek. xviii. 19 f.); rabbinical acumen resorted to the
expedient of supposing, that men so afflicted might probably have
sinned in their mother’s womb, [1299] and this was doubtless the notion
which the disciples had in view in their question, v. 2. Jesus says, in
answer, that neither for his own sin nor for that of his parents, did
this man come into the world blind; but in order that by the cure which
he, as the Messiah, would effect in him, he might be an instrument in
manifesting the miraculous power of God. This is generally understood
as if Jesus repudiated the whole opinion, that disease and other evils
were essentially punishments of sin. But the words of Jesus are
expressly limited to the case before him; he simply says, that this
particular misfortune had its foundation, not in the guilt of the
individual, but in higher providential designs. The supposition that
his expressions had a more general sense, and included a repudiation of
the entire Jewish opinion, could only be warranted by other more
decided declarations from him to that effect. As, on the contrary,
according to the above observations, a narrative is found in the
synoptical gospels which, simply interpreted, implies the concurrence
of Jesus in the prevalent opinion, the question arises: which is
easier, to regard the expression of Jesus in the synoptical narratives
as an accommodation, or that in John as having relation solely to the
case immediately before him?—a question which will be decided in favour
of the latter alternative by every one who, on the one hand, knows the
difficulties attending the hypothesis of accommodation as applied to
the expressions of Jesus in the gospels, and on the other, is
clear-sighted enough to perceive, that in the passage in question in
the fourth gospel, there is not the slightest intimation that the
declaration of Jesus had a more general meaning.

It is true that according to correct principles of interpretation, one
Evangelist ought not to be explained immediately by another, and in the
present case it is very possible that while the synoptical writers
ascribe to Jesus the common opinion of his age, the more highly
cultivated author of the fourth gospel may make him reject it: but that
he also confined the rejection of the current opinion on the part of
Jesus to that single case, is proved by the manner in which he
represents Jesus as speaking on another occasion. When, namely, Jesus
says to the man who had been lame thirty-eight years (John v.) and had
just been cured, μηκέτι ἁμάρτανε, ἵνα μὴ χεῖρόν τί σοι γένηται (v. 14),
Sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee; this is equivalent to
his saying to the paralytic whom he was about to cure, ἀφέωνταί σοι αἱ
ἁμαρτίαι σου, thy sins are forgiven thee: in the one case disease is
removed, in the other threatened, as a punishment of sin. But here
again the expositors, to whom it is not agreeable that Jesus should
hold an opinion which they reject, find a means of evading the direct
sense of the words. Jesus, say they, perceived that the particular
disease of this man was a natural consequence of certain excesses, and
warned him from a repetition of these as calculated to bring on a more
dangerous relapse. [1300] But an insight into the natural connexion
between certain excesses and certain diseases as their consequence, is
far more removed from the mode of thinking of the age in which Jesus
lived, than the notion of a positive connexion between sin in general
and disease as its punishment; hence, if we are nevertheless to ascribe
the former sense to the words of Jesus, it must be very distinctly
conveyed in the text. But the fact is that in the whole narrative there
is no intimation of any particular excess on the part of the man; the
words μηκέτι ἁμάρτανε relate only to sin in general, and to supply a
conversation of Jesus with the sick man, in which he is supposed to
have acquainted the former with the connexion between his sufferings
and a particular sin, [1301] is the most arbitrary fiction. What
exposition! for the sake of evading a result which is dogmatically
unwelcome, to extend the one passage (John ix.) to a generality of
meaning not really belonging to it, to elude the other (Matt. ix.) by
the hypothesis of accommodation, and forcibly to affix to a third (John
v.) a modern idea; whereas if the first passage be only permitted to
say no more than it actually says, the direct meaning of the other two
may remain unviolated!

But another passage, and that a synoptical one, is adduced in
vindication of the superiority of Jesus to the popular opinion in
question. This passage is Luke xiii. 1 ff., where Jesus is told of the
Galileans whom Pilate had caused to be slain while they were in the act
of sacrificing, and of others who were killed by the falling of a
tower. From what follows, we must suppose the informants to have
intimated their opinion that these calamities were to be regarded as a
divine visitation for the peculiar wickedness of the parties so
signally destroyed. Jesus replied that they must not suppose those men
to have been especially sinful; they themselves were in no degree
better, and unless they repented would meet with a similar destruction.
Truly it is not clear how in these expressions of Jesus a repudiation
of the popular notion can be found. If Jesus wished to give his voice
in opposition to this, he must either have said: you are equally great
sinners, though you may not perish bodily in the same manner; or: do
you believe that those men perished on account of their sins? No! the
contrary may be seen in you, who, notwithstanding your wickedness, are
not thus smitten with death. On the contrary, the expressions of Jesus
as given by Luke can only have the following sense: that those men have
already met with such calamities is no evidence of their peculiar
wickedness, any more than the fact that you have been hitherto spared
the like, is an evidence of your greater worth, on the contrary,
earlier or later, similar judgments falling on you will attest your
equal guilt:—whereby the supposed law of the connexion between the sin
and misfortune of every individual is confirmed, not overthrown. This
vulgar Hebrew opinion concerning sickness and evil, is indeed in
contradiction with that esoteric view, partly Essene, partly Ebionite,
which we have found in the introduction to the Sermon on the Mount, the
parable of the rich man, and elsewhere, and according to which the
righteous in this generation are the suffering, the poor and the sick;
but both opinions are clearly to be seen in the discourses of Jesus by
an unprejudiced exegesis, and the contradiction, which we find between
them authorizes us neither to put a forced construction on the one
class of expressions, nor to deny them to have really come from Jesus,
since we cannot calculate how he may have solved for himself the
opposition between two ideas of the world, presented to him by
different sides of the Jewish culture of that age.

As regards the above-mentioned cure, the synoptical writers make Jesus
in his reply to the messengers of the Baptist, appeal to the fact that
the lame walked (Matt. xi. 5), and at another time the people wonder
when, among other miracles, they see the maimed to be whole and the
lame to walk (Matt. xv. 31). In the place of the lame, χωλοὶ,
paralytics, παραλυτικοὶ are elsewhere brought forward (Matt. iv. 24),
and especially in the detailed histories of cures relating to this kind
of sufferers (as Matt. ix. 1 ff. parall., viii. 5, parall.),
παραλυτικοὶ, and not χωλοὶ, are named. The sick man at the pool of
Bethesda (John v. 5) belongs probably to the χωλοῖς spoken of in v. 3;
there also ξηροὶ, withered, are mentioned, and in Matt. xii. 9 ff.
parall. we find the cure of a man who had a withered hand. As however
the three last named cures will return to us under different heads, all
that remains here for our examination is the cure of the paralytic
Matt. ix. 1 ff. parall.

As the definitions which the ancient physicians give of paralysis,
though they all show it to have been a species of lameness, yet leave
it undecided whether the lameness was total or partial; [1302] and as,
besides, no strict adherence to medical technicalities is to be
expected from the Evangelists, we must gather what they understand by
paralytics from their own descriptions of such patients. In the present
passage, we read of the paralytic that he was borne on a bed κλίνη, and
that to enable him to arise and carry his bed was an unprecedented
wonder παράδοξον, whence we must conclude that he was lame, at least in
the feet. While here there is no mention of pains, or of an acute
character of disease, in another narrative (Matt. viii. 6) these are
evidently presupposed when the centurion says that his servant is sick
of the palsy, grievously tormented, βέβληται—παραλυτικὸς, δεινως
βασανιζόμενος; so that under paralytics in the gospels we have at one
time to understand a lameness without pain, at another a painful, gouty
disease of the limbs. [1303]

In the description of the scene in which the paralytic (Matt. ix. 1 ff.
parall.) is brought to Jesus, there is a remarkable gradation in the
three accounts. Matthew says simply, that as Jesus, after an excursion
to the opposite shore, returned to Capernaum, there was brought to him
a paralytic, stretched on a bed. Luke describes particularly how Jesus,
surrounded by a great multitude, chiefly Pharisees and scribes, taught
and healed in a certain house, and how the bearers, because on account
of the press they could not reach Jesus, let the sick man down to him
through the roof. If we call to mind the structure of oriental houses,
which had a flat roof, to which an opening led from the upper story;
[1304] and if we add to this the rabbinical manner of speaking, in
which to the via per portum (‏דרך פתחים‎) was opposed the via per
tectum (‏דרך נגיך‎) as a no less ordinary way for reaching the ὑπερῳον
upper story or chamber, [1305] we cannot under the expression καθιέναι
διὰ τῶν κεράμων, to let down through the tiling, understand anything
else than that the bearers—who, either by means of stairs leading
thither directly from the street, or from the roof of a neighbouring
house, gained access to the roof of the house in which Jesus was,—let
down the sick man with his bed, apparently by cords, through the
opening already existing in the roof. Mark, who, while with Matthew he
places the scene at Capernaum, agrees with Luke in the description of
the great crowd and the consequent ascent to the roof, goes yet further
than Luke, not only in determining the number of the bearers to be
four, but also in making them, regardless of the opening already
existing, uncover the roof and let down the sick man through an
aperture newly broken.

If we ask here also in which direction, upwards or downwards, the
climax may most probably have been formed, the narrative of Mark, which
stands at the summit, has so many difficulties that it can scarcely be
regarded as nearest the truth. For not only have opponents asked, how
could the roof be broken open without injury to those beneath? [1306]
but Olshausen himself admits that the disturbance of the roof, covered
with tiles, partakes of the extravagant. [1307] To avoid this, many
expositors suppose that Jesus taught either in the inner court, [1308]
or in the open air in front of the house, [1309] and that the bearers
only broke down a part of the parapet in order to let down the sick man
more conveniently. But both the phrase, διὰ τῶν κεράμων, in Luke, and
the expressions of Mark, render this conception of the thing
impossible, since here neither can στέγῃ mean parapet, nor ἀποστεγάζω
the breaking of the parapet, while ἐξορύττω can only mean the breaking
of a hole. Thus the disturbance of the roof subsists, but this is
further rendered improbable on the ground that it was altogether
superfluous, inasmuch as there was a door in every roof. Hence help has
been sought in the supposition that the bearers indeed used the door
previously there, but because this was too narrow for the bed of the
patient, they widened it by the removal of the surrounding tiles.
[1310] Still, however, there remains the danger to those below, and the
words imply an opening actually made, not merely widened.

But dangerous and superfluous as such a proceeding would be in reality,
it is easy to explain how Mark, wishing further to elaborate the
narrative of Luke, might be led to add such a feature. Luke had said
that the sick man was let down, so that he descended in the midst
before Jesus, ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ Ἰησοῦ. How could the people precisely hit
upon this place, unless Jesus accidentally stood under the door of the
roof, except by breaking open the roof above the spot where they knew
him to be (ἀπεστέγασαν τὴν στέγην ὅπου ἦν)? [1311] This trait Mark the
more gladly seized because it was adapted to place in the strongest
light the zeal which confidence in Jesus infused into the people, and
which was to be daunted by no labour. This last interest seems to be
the key also to Luke’s departure from Matthew. In Matthew, who makes
the bearers bring the paralytic to Jesus in the ordinary way, doubtless
regarding the laborious conveyance of the sick man on his bed as itself
a proof of their faith, it is yet less evident wherein Jesus sees their
faith. If the original form of the history was that in which it appears
in the first gospel, the temptation might easily arise to make the
bearers devise a more conspicuous means of evincing their faith, which,
since the scene was already described as happening in a great crowd,
might appear to be most suitably found in the uncommon way in which
they contrived to bring their sick man to Jesus.

But even the account of Matthew we cannot regard as a true narrative of
a fact. It has indeed been attempted to represent the result as a
natural one, by explaining the state of the man to be a nervous
weakness, the worst symptom of which was the idea of the sick man that
his disease must continue as a punishment of his sin; [1312] reference
has been made to analogous cases of a rapid psychical cure of lameness;
[1313] and a subsequent use of long-continued curative means has been
supposed. [1314] But the first and last expedients are purely
arbitrary; and if in the alleged analogies there may be some truth, yet
it is always incomparably more probable that histories of cures of the
lame and paralytic in accordance with messianic expectation, should be
formed by the legend, than that they should really have happened. In
the passage of Isaiah already quoted (xxxv. 6), it was promised in
relation to the messianic time: then shall the lame man leap as a hart,
τότε ἁλεῖται ὡς ἕλαφος ὁ χωλὸς, and in the same connexion, v. 3, the
prophet addresses to the feeble knees γόνατα παραλελυμένα the
exhortation, Be strong, ἰσχύσατε, which, with the accompanying
particulars, must have been understood literally, of a miracle to be
expected from the Messiah, since Jesus, as we have already mentioned,
among other proofs that he was the ἐρχόμενος adduced this: χωλοὶ
περιπατοῦσι, the lame walk.

§ 97.

INVOLUNTARY CURES.

Occasionally in their general statements concerning the curative power
of Jesus, the synoptical writers remark, that all kinds of sick people
only sought to touch Jesus, or to lay hold on the hem of his garment,
in order to be healed, and that immediately on this slight contact, a
cure actually followed (Matt. xiv. 36; Mark iii. 10, vi. 56; Luke vi.
19). In these cases Jesus operated, not, as we have hitherto always
seen, with a precise aim towards any particular sufferer, but on entire
masses, without taking special notice of each individual; his power of
healing appears not here, as elsewhere, to reside in his will, but in
his body and its coverings; he does not by his own voluntary act
dispense its virtues, but is subject to have them drawn from him
without his consent.

Of this species of cure again a detailed example is preserved to us, in
the history of the woman who had an issue of blood, which all the
synoptical writers give, and interweave in a peculiar manner with the
history of the resuscitation of the daughter of Jairus, making Jesus
cure the woman on his way to the ruler’s house (Matt. ix. 20 ff.; Mark
v. 25 ff.; Luke viii. 43 ff.). On comparing the account of the incident
in the several Evangelists, we might in this instance be tempted to
regard that of Luke as the original, because it seems to offer an
explanation of the uniform connexion of the two histories. As, namely,
the duration of the woman’s sufferings is fixed by all the narrators at
twelve years, so Luke, whom Mark follows, gives twelve years also as
the age of the daughter of Jairus; a numerical similarity which might
be a sufficient inducement to associate the two histories in the
evangelical tradition. But this reason is far too isolated by itself to
warrant a decision, which can only proceed from a thorough comparison
of the three narratives in their various details. Matthew describes the
woman simply as γυνὴ αἱμοῤῥοοῦσα δώδεκα ἔτη, which signifies that she
had for twelve years been subject to an important loss of blood,
probably in the form of excessive menstruation. Luke, the reputed
physician, shows himself here in no degree favourable to his
professional brethren, for he adds that the woman had spent all her
living on physicians without obtaining any help from them. Mark, yet
more unfavourable, says that she had suffered many things of many
physicians, and was nothing bettered, but rather grew worse. Those who
surround Jesus when the woman approaches him are, according to Matthew,
his disciples, according to Mark and Luke, a thronging multitude. After
all the narrators have described how the woman, as timid as she was
believing, came behind Jesus and touched the hem of his garment, Mark
and Luke state that she was immediately healed, but that Jesus, being
conscious of the egress of curative power, asked who touched me? The
disciples, astonished, ask in return, how he can distinguish a single
touch amidst so general a thronging and pressure of the crowd.
According to Luke, he persists in his assertion; according to Mark, he
looks inquiringly around him in order to discover the party who had
touched him: then, according to both these Evangelists, the woman
approaches trembling, falls at His feet and confesses all, whereupon
Jesus gives her the tranquillizing assurance that her faith has made
her whole. Matthew has not this complex train of circumstances; he
merely states that after the touch Jesus looked round, discovered the
woman, and announced to her that her faith had wrought her cure.

This difference is an important one, and we need not greatly wonder
that it induced Storr to suppose two separate cures of women afflicted
in the same manner. [1315] To this expedient he was yet more decidedly
determined by the still wider divergencies in the narrative of the
resuscitation of the daughter of Jairus, a narrative which is
interlaced with the one before us; it is, however, this very
interlacement which renders it totally impossible to imagine that
Jesus, twice, on both occasions when he was on his way to restore to
life the daughter of a Jewish ruler (ἄρχων), cured a woman who had had
an issue of blood twelve years. While, on this consideration, criticism
has long ago decided for the singleness of the fact on which the
narratives are founded, it has at the same time given the preference to
those of Mark and Luke as the most vivid and circumstantial. [1316]
But, in the first place, if it be admitted that Mark’s addition ἀλλὰ
μᾶλλον εἰς τὸ χεῖρον ἐλθοῦσα, but rather grew worse, is merely a
finishing touch from his own imagination to the expression οὐκ ἴσχυσεν
ὑπ’ οὐδενὸς θεραπευθῆναι neither could be healed of any, which he found
in Luke; there seems to be the same reason for regarding this
particular of Luke’s as an inference of his own by which he has
amplified the simple statement αἱμοῤῥοοῦσα δώδεκα ἔτη, which Matthew
gives without any addition. If the woman had been ill twelve years, she
must, it was thought, during that period have frequently had recourse
to physicians: and as, when contrasted with the inefficiency of the
physicians, the miraculous power of Jesus, which instantaneously
wrought a cure, appeared in all the more brilliant a light; so in the
legend, or in the imagination of the narrators, there grew up these
additions. What if the same observation applied to the other
differences? That the woman according to Matthew also, only touched
Jesus from behind, implied the effort and the hope to remain concealed;
that Jesus immediately looked round after her, implied that he was
conscious of her touch. This hope on the part of the woman became the
more accountable, and this consciousness on the part of Jesus the more
marvellous, the greater the crowd that surrounded Jesus and pressed
upon him; hence the companionship of the disciples in Matthew is by the
other two Evangelists changed into a thronging of the multitude
(βλέπεις τὸν ὄχλον συνθλίβοντά σε). Again, Matthew mentions that Jesus
looked round after the woman touched him; on this circumstance the
supposition might be founded that he had perceived her touch in a
peculiar manner; hence the scene was further worked up, and we are
shown how Jesus, though pressed on all sides, had yet a special
consciousness of that particular touch by the healing power which it
had drawn from him; while the simple feature ἐπιστραφεὶς καὶ ἰδὼν
αὐτὴν, he turned him about, and when he saw her, in Matthew, is
transformed into an inquiry and a searching glance around upon the
crowd to discover the woman, who then is represented as coming forward,
trembling, to make her confession. Lastly, on a comparison of Matt xiv.
36, the point of this narrative, even as given in the first gospel,
appears to lie in the fact that simply to touch the clothes of Jesus
had in itself a healing efficacy. Accordingly, in the propagation of
this history, there was a continual effort to make the result follow
immediately on the touch, and to represent Jesus as remaining, even
after the cure, for some time uncertain with respect to the individual
who had touched him, a circumstance which is in contradiction with that
superior knowledge elsewhere attributed to Jesus. Thus, under every
aspect, the narrative in the first gospel presents itself as the
earlier and more simple, that of the second and third as a later and
more embellished formation of the legend.

As regards the common substance of the narratives, it has in recent
times been a difficulty to all theologians, whether orthodox or
rationalistic, that the curative power of Jesus should have been
exhibited apart from his volition. Paulus and Olshausen agree in the
opinion, [1317] that the agency of Jesus is thus reduced too completely
into the domain of physical nature; that Jesus would then be like a
magnetiser who in operating on a nervous patient is conscious of a
diminution of strength, or like a charged electrical battery, which a
mere touch will discharge. Such an idea of Christ, thinks Olshausen, is
repugnant to the Christian consciousness, which determines the fulness
of power resident in Jesus to have been entirely under the governance
of his will; and this will to have been guided by a knowledge of the
moral condition of the persons to be healed. It is therefore supposed
that Jesus fully recognized the woman even without seeing her, and
considering that she might be spiritually won over to him by this
bodily succour, he consciously communicated to her an influx of his
curative power; but in order to put an end to her false shame and
constrain her to a confession, he behaved as if he knew not who had
touched him. But the Christian consciousness, in cases of this kind,
means nothing else than the advanced religious culture of our age,
which cannot appropriate the antiquated ideas of the Bible. Now this
consciousness must be neutral where we are concerned, not with the
dogmatical appropriation, but purely with the exegetical discovery of
the biblical ideas. The interference of this alleged Christian
consciousness is the secret of the majority of exegetical errors, and
in the present instance it has led the above named commentators astray
from the evident sense of the text. For the question of Jesus in both
the more detailed narratives τίς ὁ ἁψάμενός μου; who touched me?
repeated as it is in Luke, and strengthened as it is in Mark by a
searching glance around, has the appearance of being meant thoroughly
in earnest; and indeed it is the object of these two Evangelists to
place the miraculous nature of the curative power of Jesus in a
particularly clear light by showing that the mere touching of his
clothes accompanied by faith, no previous knowledge on his part of the
person who touched, nor so much as a word from him, being requisite,
was sufficient to obtain a cure. Nay, even originally, in the more
concise account of Matthew, the expressions προσελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν ἥφατο
having come behind him, she touched, and ἐπιστραθεὶς καὶ ἰδὼν αὐτὴν he
turned him about, and when he saw her, clearly imply that Jesus knew
the woman only after she had touched him. If then, it is not to be
proved that Jesus had a knowledge of the woman previous to her cure and
a special will to heal her; nothing remains for those who will not
admit an involuntary exhibition of curative power in Jesus, but to
suppose in him a constant general will to cure, with which it was only
necessary that faith on the part of the diseased person should concur,
in order to produce an actual cure. But that, notwithstanding the
absence of a special direction of the will to the cure of this woman on
the part of Jesus, she was restored to health, simply by her faith,
without even touching his clothes, is assuredly not the idea of the
Evangelists. On the contrary, it is their intention to substitute for
an individual act of the will on the part of Jesus, the touch on the
part of the sick person; this it is which, instead of the former,
brings into action the latent power of Jesus: so that the materialistic
character of the representation is not in this way to be avoided.

A step further was necessary to the rationalistic interpretation, which
not only with modern supranaturalism regards as incredible the
unconscious efflux of curative power from Jesus, but also denies in
general any efflux of such power, and yet wishes to preserve
unattainted the historical veracity of the Evangelists. According to
this system, Jesus was led to ask who touched him, solely because he
felt himself held back in his progress; the assertion that
consciousness of a departure of power, δύναμις ἐξελθοῦσα, was the cause
of his question, is a mere inference of the two narrators, of whom the
one, Mark, actually gives it as his own observation; and it is only
Luke who incorporates it with the question of Jesus. The cure of the
woman was effected by means of her exalted confidence, in consequence
of which when she touched the hem of Jesus she was seized with a
violent shuddering in her whole nervous system, which probably caused a
sudden contraction of the relaxed vessels; at the first moment she
could only believe, not certainly know that she was cured, and only by
degrees, probably after the use of means recommended to her by Jesus,
did the malady entirely cease. [1318] But who can represent to himself
the timid touch of a sick woman whose design was to remain concealed,
and whose faith rendered her certain of obtaining a cure by the
slightest touch, as a grasp which arrested the progress of Jesus,
pressed upon as he was, according to Mark and Luke, by the crowd?
Further, what a vast conception of the power of confidence is demanded
by the opinion, that it healed a disease of twelve years’ duration
without the concurrence of any real force on the part of Jesus! Lastly,
if the Evangelists are supposed to have put into the mouth of Jesus an
inference of their own (that healing efficacy had gone out of him)—if
they are supposed to have described a gradual cure as an instantaneous
one; then, with the renunciation of these particulars all warrant for
the historical reality of the entire narrative falls to the ground, and
at the same time all necessity for troubling ourselves with the natural
interpretation.

In fact, if we only examine the narrative before us somewhat more
closely, and compare it with kindred anecdotes, we cannot remain in
doubt as to its proper character. As here and in some other passages it
is narrated of Jesus, that the sick were cured by the bare touch of his
clothes: so in the Acts we are told that the handkerchiefs σουδάρια and
aprons σιμικίνθια of Paul cured all kinds of sick persons to whom they
were applied (xix. 11 f.), and that the very shadow of Peter was
believed to have the same efficacy (v. 15); while the apocryphal
gospels represent a mass of cures to have been wrought by means of the
swaddling bands of the infant Jesus, and the water in which he was
washed. [1319] In reading these last histories, every one knows that he
is in the realm of fiction and legend; but wherein are the cures
wrought by the pocket-handkerchiefs of Paul to be distinguished from
those wrought by the swaddling bands of Jesus, unless it be that the
latter proceeded from a child, the former from a man? It is certain
that if the story relative to Paul were not found in a canonical book,
every one would deem it fabulous, and yet the credibility of the
narratives should not be concluded from the assumed origin of the book
which contains them, but on the contrary, our judgment of the book must
be founded on the nature of its particular narratives. But again,
between these cures by the pocket-handkerchiefs and those by the touch
of the hem of the garment, there is no essential distinction. In both
cases we have the contact of objects which are in a merely external
connexion with the worker of the miracle; with the single difference,
that this connexion is with regard to the pocket-handkerchiefs an
interrupted one, with regard to the clothes a continuous one; in both
cases again, results which, even according to the orthodox view, are
only derived from the spiritual nature of the men in question, and are
to be regarded as acts of their will in virtue of its union with the
divine, are reduced to physical effects and effluxes. The subject thus
descends from the religious and theological sphere to the natural and
physical, because a man with a power of healing resident in his body,
and floating as an atmosphere around him, would belong to the objects
of natural science, and not of religion. But natural science is not
able to accredit such a healing power by sure analogies or clear
definitions; hence these cures, being driven from the objective to the
subjective region, must receive their explanation from psychology. Now
psychology, taking into account the power of imagination and of faith,
will certainly allow the possibility that without a real curative power
in the reputed miracle-worker, solely by the strong confidence of the
diseased person that he possesses this power, bodily maladies which
have a close connexion with the nervous system may be cured: but when
we seek for historical vouchers for this possibility, criticism, which
must here be called to aid, will soon show that a far greater number of
such cures has been invented by the faith of others, than has been
performed by the parties alleged to be concerned. Thus it is in itself
by no means impossible, that through strong faith in the healing power
residing even in the clothes and handkerchiefs of Jesus and the
apostles, many sick persons on touching these articles were conscious
of real benefit; but it is at least equally probable, that only after
the death of these men, when their fame in the church was ever on the
increase, anecdotes of this kind were believingly narrated, and it
depends on the nature of the accounts, for which of the two
alternatives we are to decide. In the general statement in the Gospels
and the Acts, which speak of whole masses having been cured in the
above way, this accumulation at any rate is traditional. As to the
detailed history which we have been examining, in its representation
that the woman had suffered twelve years from a very obstinate disease,
and one the least susceptible of merely psychical influence, and that
the cure was performed by power consciously emitted from Jesus, instead
of by the imagination of the patient: so large a portion betrays itself
to be mythical that we can no longer discern any historical elements,
and must regard the whole as legendary.

It is not difficult to see what might give rise to this branch of the
evangelical miraculous legend, in distinction from others. The faith of
the popular mind, dependent on the senses, and incapable of
apprehending the divine through the medium of thought alone, strives
perpetually to draw it down into material existence. Hence, according
to a later opinion, the saint must continue to work miracles when his
bones are distributed as relics, and the body of Christ must be present
in the transubstantiated host; hence also, according to an idea
developed much earlier, the curative power of the men celebrated in the
New Testament must be attached to their body and its coverings. The
less the church retained of the words of Jesus, the more tenaciously
she clung to the efficacy of his mantle, and the further she was
removed from the free spiritual energy of the apostle Paul, the more
consolatory was the idea of carrying home his curative energy in a
pocket-handkerchief.

§ 98.

CURES AT A DISTANCE.

The cures performed at a distance are, properly speaking, the opposite
of these involuntary cures. The latter are effected by mere corporeal
contact without a special act of the will; the former solely by the act
of the will without corporeal contact, or even local proximity. But
there immediately arises this objection: if the curative power of Jesus
was so material that it dispensed itself involuntarily at a mere touch,
it cannot have been so spiritual that the simple will could convey it
over considerable distances; or conversely, if it was so spiritual as
to act apart from bodily presence, it cannot have been so material as
to dispense itself independently of the will. Since we have pronounced
the purely physical mode of influence in Jesus to be improbable, free
space is left to us for the purely spiritual, and our decision on the
latter will therefore depend entirely on the examination of the
narratives and the facts themselves.

As proofs that the curative power of Jesus acted thus at a distance,
Matthew and Luke narrate to us the cure of the sick servant of a
centurion at Capernaum, John that of the son of a nobleman βασιλικὸς,
at the same place (Matt. viii. 5 ff.; Luke vii. 1 ff.; John iv. 46
ff.); and again Matthew (xv. 22 ff.), and Mark (vii. 25 ff.), that of
the daughter of the Canaanitish woman. Of these examples, as in the
summary narration of the last there is nothing peculiar, we have here
to consider the two first only. The common opinion is, that Matthew and
Luke do indeed narrate the same fact, but John one distinct from this,
since his narrative differs from that of the two others in the
following particulars: firstly, the place from which Jesus cures, is in
the synoptical gospels the place where the sick man resides,
Capernaum,—in John a different one, namely, Cana; secondly, the time at
which the synoptists lay the incident, namely, when Jesus is in the act
of returning home after his Sermon on the Mount, is different from that
assigned to it in the fourth gospel, which is immediately after the
return of Jesus from the first passover and his ministry in Samaria;
thirdly, the sick person is according to the former the slave,
according to the latter the son of the suppliant; but the most
important divergencies are those which relate, fourthly, to the
suppliant himself, for in the first and third gospels he is a military
person (an ἑκατόνταρχος), in the fourth a person in office at court
(βασιλικὸς), according to the former (Matt. v. 10 ff.), a Gentile,
according to the latter without doubt a Jew; above all, the synoptists
make Jesus eulogize him as a pattern of the most fervent, humble faith,
because, in the conviction that Jesus could cure at a distance, he
prevented him from going to his house; whereas in John, on the
contrary, he is blamed for his weak faith which required signs and
wonders, because he thought the presence of Jesus in his house
necessary for the purpose of the cure. [1320]

These divergencies are certainly important enough to be a reason, with
those who regard them from a certain point of view, for maintaining the
distinction of the fact lying at the foundation of the synoptical
narratives from that reported by John: only this accuracy of
discrimination must be carried throughout, and the diversities between
the two synoptical narratives themselves must not be overlooked. First,
even in the designation of the person of the patient they are not
perfectly in unison; Luke calls him δοῦλος ἔντιμος, a servant who was
dear to the centurion; in Matthew, the latter calls him ὁ παῖς μοῦ,
which may equally mean either a son or a servant, and as the centurion
when speaking (v. 9) of his servant, uses the word δοῦλος, while the
cured individual is again (v. 13) spoken of as ὁ παῖς αὐτοῦ, it seems
most probable that the former sense was intended. With respect to his
disease, the man is described by Matthew as παραλυτικὸς δεινῶς
βασανιζόμενος a paralytic grievously tormented; Luke is not only silent
as to this species of disease, but he is thought by many to presuppose
a different one, since after the indefinite expression κακῶς ἔχων,
being ill, he adds, ἤμελλε τελευτᾶν, was ready to die, and paralysis is
not generally a rapidly fatal malady. [1321] But the most important
difference is one which runs through the entire narrative, namely, that
all which according to Matthew the centurion does in his own person, is
in Luke done by messengers, for here in the first instance he makes the
entreaty, not personally, as in Matthew, but through the medium of the
Jewish elders, and when he afterwards wishes to prevent Jesus from
entering his house, he does not come forward himself, but commissions
some friends to act in his stead. To reconcile this difference, it is
usual to refer to the rule: quod quis per alium facit, etc. [1322] If
then it be said, and indeed no other conception of the matter is
possible to expositors who make such an appeal,—Matthew well knew that
between the centurion and Jesus everything was transacted by means of
deputies, but for the sake of brevity, he employed the figure of speech
above alluded to, and represented him as himself accosting Jesus: Storr
is perfectly right in his opposing remark, that scarcely any historian
would so perseveringly carry that metonymy through an entire narrative,
especially in a case where, on the one hand, the figure of speech is by
no means so obvious as when, for example, that is ascribed to a general
which is done by his soldiers; and where, on the other hand, precisely
this point, whether the person acted for himself or through others, is
of some consequence to a full estimate of his character. [1323] With
laudable consistency, therefore, Storr, as he believed it necessary to
refer the narrative of the fourth gospel to a separate fact from that
of the first and third, on account of the important differences; so, on
account of the divergencies which he found between the two last,
pronounces these also to be narratives of two separate events. If any
one wonder that at three different times so entirely similar a cure
should have happened at the same place (for according to John also, the
patient lay and was cured at Capernaum), Storr on his side wonders how
it can be regarded as in the least improbable that in Capernaum at two
different periods two centurions should have had each a sick servant,
and that again at another time a nobleman should have had a sick son at
the same place; that the second centurion (Luke) should have heard the
history of the first, have applied in a similar manner to Jesus, and
sought to surpass his example of humility, as the first centurion
(Matthew), to whom the earlier history of the nobleman (John) was
known, wished to surpass the weak faith of the latter; and lastly, that
Jesus cured all the three patients in the same manner at a distance.
But the incident of a distinguished official person applying to Jesus
to cure a dependent or relative, and of Jesus at a distance operating
on the latter in such a manner, that about the time in which Jesus
pronounced the curative word, the patient at home recovered, is so
singular in its kind that a threefold repetition of it may be regarded
as impossible, and even the supposition that it occurred twice only,
has difficulties; hence it is our task to ascertain whether the three
narratives may not be traced to a single root.

Now the narrative of the fourth Evangelist which is most generally held
to be distinct, has not only an affinity with the synoptical narratives
in the outline already given; but in many remarkable details either one
or the other of the synoptists agrees more closely with John than with
his fellow synoptist. Thus, while in designating the patient as παῖς,
Matthew may be held to accord with the υἱὸς of John, at least as
probably as with the δοῦλος of Luke; Matthew and John decidedly agree
in this, that according to both the functionary at Capernaum applies in
his own person to Jesus, and not as in Luke by deputies. On the other
hand, the account of John agrees with that of Luke in its description
of the state of the patient; in neither is there any mention of the
paralysis of which Matthew speaks, but the patient is described as near
death, in Luke by the words ἤμελλε τελευτᾷν, in John by ἤμελλεν
ἀποθνήσκειν, in addition to which it is incidentally implied in the
latter, v. 52, that the disease was accompanied by a fever, πυρετὸς. In
the account of the manner in which Jesus effected the cure of the
patient, and in which his cure was made known, John stands again on the
side of Matthew in opposition to Luke. While namely, the latter has not
an express assurance on the part of Jesus that the servant was healed,
the two former make him say to the officer, in very similar terms, the
one, ὕπαγε, καὶ ὡς ἐπίστευσας γενηθήτω σοι, Go thy way, and as thou
hast believed so shall it be done unto thee, the other, πορεύου, ὁ υἱὸς
σου ζῇ, Go thy way, thy son liveth; and the conclusion of Matthew also,
καὶ ἰάθη ὁ παῖς αὐτοῦ ἐν τῇ ὥρᾳ ἐκείνῃ, has at least in its form more
resemblance to the statement of John, that by subsequent inquiry the
father ascertained it to be ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ ὥρᾳ, at the same hour in which
Jesus had spoken the word that his son had begun to amend, than to the
statement of Luke, that the messengers when they returned found the
sick man restored to health. In another point of this conclusion,
however, the agreement with John is transferred from Matthew again to
Luke. In both Luke and John, namely, a kind of embassy is spoken of,
which towards the close of the narrative comes out of the house of the
officer; in the former it consists of the centurion’s friends, whose
errand it is to dissuade Jesus from giving himself unnecessary trouble;
in the latter, of servants who rejoicingly meet their master and bring
him the news of his son’s recovery. Unquestionably where three
narratives are so thoroughly entwined with each other as these, we
ought not merely to pronounce two of them identical and allow one to
stand for a distinct fact, but must rather either distinguish all, or
blend all into one. The latter course was adopted by Semler, after
older examples, [1324] and Tholuck has at least declared it possible.
But with such expositors the next object is so to explain the
divergencies of the three narratives, that no one of the Evangelists
may seem to have said anything false. With respect to the rank of the
applicant, they make the βασιλικὸς in John a military officer, for whom
the ἑκατόνταρχος of the two others would only be a more specific
designation; as regards the main point, however, namely, the conduct of
the applicant, it is thought that the different narrators may have
represented the event in different periods of its progress; that is,
John may have given the earlier circumstance, that Jesus complained of
the originally weak faith of the suppliant, the synoptists only the
later, that he praised its rapid growth. We have already shown how it
has been supposed possible, in a yet easier manner, to adjust the chief
difference between the two synoptical accounts relative to the mediate
or immediate entreaty. But this effort to explain the contradictions
between the three narratives in a favourable manner is altogether vain.
There still subsist these difficulties: the synoptists thought of the
applicant as a centurion, the fourth Evangelist as a courtier; the
former as strong, the latter as weak in faith; John and Matthew
imagined that he applied in his own person to Jesus; Luke, that out of
modesty he sent deputies. [1325]

Which then represents the fact in the right way, which in the wrong? If
we take first the two synoptists by themselves, expositors with one
voice declare that Luke gives the more correct account. First of all,
it is thought improbable that the patient should have been, as Matthew
says, a paralytic, since in the case of a disease so seldom fatal the
modest centurion would scarcely have met Jesus to implore his aid
immediately on his entrance into the city: [1326] as if a very painful
disease such as is described by Matthew did not render desirable the
quickest help, and as if there were any want of modesty in asking Jesus
before he reached home to utter a healing word. Rather, the contrary
relation between Matthew and Luke seems probable from the observation,
that the miracle, and consequently also the disease of the person cured
miraculously, is never diminished in tradition but always exaggerated;
hence the tormented paralytic would more probably be heightened into
one ready to die, μέλλων τελευτᾲν, than the latter reduced to a mere
sufferer. But especially the double message in Luke is, according to
Schleiermacher, a feature very unlikely to have been invented. How if,
on the contrary, it very plainly manifested itself to be an invention?
While in Matthew the centurion, on the offer of Jesus to accompany him,
seeks to prevent him by the objection: Lord, I am not worthy that thou
shouldest come under my roof, in Luke he adds by the mouth of his
messenger, wherefore neither thought I myself worthy to come unto thee,
by which we plainly discover the conclusion on which the second embassy
was founded. If the man declared himself unworthy that Jesus should
come to him, he cannot, it was thought, have held himself worthy to
come to Jesus; an exaggeration of his humility by which the narrative
of Luke again betrays its secondary character. The first embassy seems
to have originated in the desire to introduce a previous recommendation
of the centurion as a motive for the promptitude with which Jesus
offered to enter the house of a Gentile. The Jewish elders, after
having informed Jesus of the case of disease, add that he was worthy
for whom he should do this, for he loveth our nation and has built us a
synagogue: a recommendation the tenor of which is not unlike what Luke
(Acts x. 22) makes the messengers of Cornelius say to Peter to induce
him to return with them, namely, that the centurion was a just man, and
one that feareth God, and in good report among all the nation of the
Jews. That the double embassy cannot have been original, appears the
most clearly from the fact, that by it the narrative of Luke loses all
coherence. In Matthew all hangs well together: the centurion first
describes to Jesus the state of the sufferer, and either leaves it to
Jesus to decide what he shall next do, or before he prefers his request
Jesus anticipates him by the offer to go to his house, which the
centurion declines in the manner stated. Compare with this his strange
conduct in Luke: he first sends to Jesus by the Jewish elders the
request that he will come and heal his servant, but when Jesus is
actually coming, repents that he has occasioned him to do so, and asks
only for a miraculous word from Jesus. The supposition that the first
request proceeded solely from the elders and not from the centurion
[1327] runs counter to the express words of the Evangelist, who by the
expressions: ἀπέστειλε—πρεσβυτέρους—ἐρωτῶν αὐτὸν, he sent—the
elders—beseeching him, represents the prayer as coming from the
centurion himself; and that the latter by the word ἐλθὼν meant only
that Jesus should come into the neighbourhood of his house, but when he
saw that Jesus intended actually to enter his house, declined this as
too great a favour,—is too absurd a demeanour to attribute to a man who
otherwise appears sensible, and of whom for this reason so capricious a
change of mind as is implied in the text of Luke, was still less to be
expected. The whole difficulty would have been avoided, if Luke had put
into the mouth of the first messengers, as Matthew in that of the
centurion, only the entreaty, direct or indirect, for a cure in
general; and then after Jesus had offered to go to the house where the
patient lay, had attributed to the same messengers the modest rejection
of this offer. But on the one hand, he thought it requisite to furnish
a motive for the resolution of Jesus to go into the Gentile’s house;
and on the other, tradition presented him with a deprecation of this
personal trouble on the part of Jesus: he was unable to attribute the
prayer and the deprecation to the same persons, and he was therefore
obliged to contrive a second embassy. Hereby, however, the
contradiction was only apparently avoided, since both embassies are
sent by the centurion. Perhaps also the centurion who was unwilling
that Jesus should take the trouble to enter his house, reminded Luke of
the messenger who warned Jairus not to trouble the master to enter his
house, likewise after an entreaty that he would come into the house;
and as the messenger says to Jairus, according to him and Mark, μὴ
σκύλλε τὸν διδάσκαλον, trouble not the master (Luke viii. 49), so here
he puts into the mouth of the second envoys, the words, κύριε μὴ
σκύλλον, Lord, trouble not thyself, although such an order has a reason
only in the case of Jairus, in whose house the state of things had been
changed since the first summons by the death of his daughter, and none
at all in that of the centurion whose servant still remained in the
same state.

Modern expositors are deterred from the identification of all the three
narratives, by the fear that it may present John in the light of a
narrator who has not apprehended the scene with sufficient accuracy,
and has even mistaken its main drift. [1328] Were they nevertheless to
venture on a union, they would as far as possible vindicate to the
fourth gospel the most original account of the facts; a position of
which we shall forthwith test the security, by an examination of the
intrinsic character of the narratives. That the suppliant is according
to the fourth Evangelist a βασιλικὸς, while according to the two others
he is an ἑκατόνταρχος, is an indifferent particular from which we can
draw no conclusion on either side; and it may appear to be the same
with the divergency as to the relation of the diseased person to the
one who entreats his cure. If, however, it be asked with reference to
the last point, from which of the three designations the other two
could most easily have arisen? it can scarcely be supposed that the
υἱὸς of John became in a descending line, first the doubtful term παῖς,
and then δοῦλος; and even the reverse ascending order is here less
probable than the intermediate alternative, that out of the ambiguous
παῖς (= ‏כַעַר‎) there branched off in one direction the sense of
servant, as in Luke; in the other, of son, as in John. We have already
remarked, that the description of the patient’s state in John, as well
as in Luke, is an enhancement on that in Matthew, and consequently of
later origin. As regards the difference in the locality, from the point
of view now generally taken in the comparative criticism of the
gospels, the decision would doubtless be, that in the tradition from
which the synoptical writers drew, the place from which Jesus performed
the miracles was confounded with that in which the sick person lay, the
less noted Cana being absorbed in the celebrated Capernaum; whereas
John, being an eye-witness, retained the more correct details. But the
relation between the Evangelists appears to stand thus only when John
is assumed to have been an eye-witness; if the critic seeks, as he is
bound to do, to base his decision solely on the intrinsic character of
the narratives, he will arrive at a totally different result. Here is a
narrative of a cure performed at a distance, in which the miracle
appears the greater, the wider the distance between the curer and the
cured. Would oral tradition, in propagating this narrative, have the
tendency to diminish that distance, and consequently the miracle, so
that in the account of John, who makes Jesus perform the cure at a
place from which the nobleman does not reach his son until the
following day, we should have the original narrative, in that of the
synoptists on the contrary, who represent Jesus as being in the same
town with the sick servant, the one modified by tradition? Only the
converse of this supposition can be held accordant with the nature of
the legend, and here again the narrative of John manifests itself to be
a traditional one. Again, the preciseness with which the hour of the
patient’s recovery is ascertained in the fourth gospel has a highly
fictitious appearance. The simple expression of Matthew, usually found
at the conclusion of histories of cures: he was healed in the self-same
hour, is dilated into an inquiry on the part of the father as to the
hour in which the son began to amend, an answer from the servants that
yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him, and lastly the
result, that in the very hour in which Jesus had said, Thy son liveth,
the recovery took place. This is a solicitous accuracy, a tediousness
of calculation, that seems to bespeak the anxiety of the narrator to
establish the miracle, rather than to show the real course of the
event. In representing the βασιλικὸς as conversing personally with
Jesus, the fourth gospel has preserved the original simplicity of the
narrative better than the third; though as has been remarked, the
servants who come to meet their master in the former seem to be
representatives of Luke’s second embassy. But in the main point of
difference, relative to the character of the applicant, it might be
thought that, even according to our own standard, the preference must
be given to John before the two other narrators. For if that narrative
is the more legendary, which exhibits an effort at aggrandizement or
embellishment, it might be said that the applicant whose faith is in
John rather weak, is in Luke embellished into a model of faith. It is
not, however, on embellishment in general that legend or the inventive
narrator is bent, but on embellishment in subservience to their grand
object, which in the gospels is the glorification of Jesus; and viewed
in this light, the embellishment will in two respects be found on the
side of John. First, as this Evangelist continually aims to exhibit the
pre-eminence of Jesus, by presenting a contrast to it in the weakness
of all who are brought into communication with him, so here this
purpose might be served by representing the suppliant as weak rather
than strong in faith. The reply, however, which he puts into the mouth
of Jesus, Unless ye see signs and wonders ye will not believe, has
proved too severe, for which reason it reduces most of our commentators
to perplexity. Secondly, it might seem unsuitable that Jesus should
allow himself to be diverted from his original intention of entering
the house in which the patient was, and thus appear to be guided by
external circumstances; it might be regarded as more consistent with
his character that he should originally resolve to effect the cure at a
distance instead of being persuaded to this by another. If then, as
tradition said, the suppliant did nevertheless make a kind of
remonstrance, this must have had an opposite drift to the one in the
synoptical gospels, namely, to induce Jesus to a journey to the house
where the patient lay.

In relation to the next question, the possibility and the actual course
of the incident before us, the natural interpretation seems to find the
most pliant material in the narrative of John. Here, it is remarked,
Jesus nowhere says that he will effect the patient’s cure, he merely
assures the father that his son is out of danger (ὁ υἱός σου ζῇ), and
the father, when he finds that the favourable turn of his son’s malady
coincides with the time at which he was conversing with Jesus, in no
way draws the inference that Jesus had wrought the cure at a distance.
Hence, this history is only a proof that Jesus by means of his profound
acquaintance with semeiology, was able, on receiving a description of
the patient’s state, correctly to predict the course of his disease;
that such a description is not here given is no proof that Jesus had
not obtained it; while further this proof of knowledge is called a
σημεῖον (v. 54) because it was a sign of a kind of skill in Jesus which
John had not before intimated, namely, the ability to predict the cure
of one dangerously ill. [1329] But, apart from the misinterpretation of
the word σημεῖον, and the interpolation of a conversation not intimated
in the text; this view of the matter would place the character and even
the understanding of Jesus in the most equivocal light. For if we
should pronounce a physician imprudent, who in the case of a patient
believed to be dying of fever, should even from his own observation of
the symptoms, guarantee a cure, and thus risk his reputation: how much
more rashly would Jesus have acted, had he, on the mere description of
a man who was not a physician, given assurance that a disease was
attended with no danger? We cannot ascribe such conduct to him, because
it would be in direct contradiction with his general conduct, and the
impression which he left on his cotemporaries. If then Jesus merely
predicted the cure without effecting it, he must have been assured of
it in a more certain manner than by natural reasoning,—he must have
known it in a supernatural manner. This is the turn given to the
narrative by one of the most recent commentators on the gospel of John.
He puts the question, whether we have here a miracle of knowledge or of
power; and as there is no mention of an immediate effect from the words
of Jesus, while elsewhere in the fourth gospel the superior knowledge
of Jesus is especially held up to our view, he is of opinion that
Jesus, by means of his higher nature, merely knew that at that moment
the dangerous crisis of the disease was past. [1330] But if our gospel
frequently exhibits the superior knowledge of Jesus, this proves
nothing to the purpose, for it just as frequently directs our attention
to his superior power. Further, where the supernatural knowledge of
Jesus is concerned, this is plainly stated (as i. 49, ii. 25, vi. 64),
and hence if a supernatural cognizance of the already effected cure of
the boy had been intended, John would have made Jesus speak on this
occasion as he did before to Nathanael, and tell the father that he
already saw his son on his bed in an ameliorated state. On the
contrary, not only is there no intimation of the exercise of superior
knowledge, but we are plainly enough given to understand that there was
an exercise of miraculous power. When the sudden cure of one at the
point of death is spoken of, the immediate question is, What brought
about this unexpected change? and when a narrative which elsewhere
makes miracles follow on the word of its hero, puts into his mouth an
assurance that the patient lives, it is only the mistaken effort to
diminish the marvellous, which can prevent the admission, that in this
assurance the author means to give the cause of the cure.

In the case of the synoptical narratives, the supposition of a mere
prediction will not suffice, since here the father (Matt. v. 8)
entreats the exercise of healing power, and Jesus (v. 13), accedes to
this entreaty. Hence every way would seem to be closed to the natural
interpretation (for the distance of Jesus from the patient made all
physical or psychical influence impossible), if a single feature in the
narrative had not presented unexpected help. This feature is the
comparison which the centurion institutes between himself and Jesus. As
he need only speak a word in order to see this or that command
performed by his soldiers and servants, so, he concludes, it would cost
Jesus no more than a word to restore his servant to health. Out of this
comparison it has been found possible to extract an intimation that as
on the side of the centurion, so on that of Jesus, human proxies were
thought of. According to this, the centurion intended to represent to
Jesus, that he need only speak a word to one of his disciples, and the
latter would go with him and cure his servant, which is supposed to
have forthwith happened. [1331] But as this would be the first instance
in which Jesus had caused a cure to be wrought by his disciples, and
the only one in which he commissions them immediately to perform a
particular cure, how could this peculiar circumstance be silently
presupposed in the otherwise detailed narrative of Luke? Why, since
this narrator is not sparing in spinning out the rest of the
messenger’s speech, does he stint the few words which would have
explained all—the simple addition after εἰπὲ λόγῳ, speak the word, of
ἑνὶ τῶν μαθητῶν, to one of thy disciples, or something similar? But,
above all, at the close of the narrative, where the result is told,
this mode of interpretation falls into the greatest perplexity, not
merely through the silence of the narrator, but through his positive
statement. Luke, namely, concludes with the information that when the
friends of the centurion returned into the house, they found the
servant already recovered. Now, if Jesus had caused the cure by sending
with the messengers one or more of his disciples, the patient could
only begin gradually to be better after the disciples had come into the
house with the messengers; he could not have been already well on their
arrival. Paulus indeed supposes that the messengers lingered for some
time listening to the discourse of Jesus, and that thus the disciples
arrived before them; but how the former could so unnecessarily linger,
and how the Evangelist could have been silent on this point as well as
on the commission of the disciples, he omits to explain. Whether
instead of the disciples, we hold that which corresponds on the side of
Jesus to the soldiers of the centurion to be demons of disease, [1332]
ministering angels, [1333] or merely the word and the curative power of
Jesus; [1334] in any case there remains to us a miracle wrought at a
distance.

This kind of agency on the part of Jesus is, according to the admission
even of such commentators as have not generally any repugnance to the
miraculous, attended with special difficulty, because from the want of
the personal presence of Jesus, and its beneficial influence on the
patient, we are deprived of every possibility of rendering the cure
conceivable by means of an analogy observable in nature. [1335]
According to Olshausen, indeed, this distant influence has its
analogies; namely, in animal magnetism. [1336] I will not directly
contest this, but only point out the limits within which, so far as my
knowledge extends, this phenomenon confines itself in the domain of
animal magnetism. According to our experience hitherto, the cases in
which one person can exert an influence over another at a distance are
only two: first, the magnetizer or an individual in magnetic relation
to him can act thus on the somnambule, but this distant action must
always be preceded by immediate contact,—a preliminary which is not
supposed in the relation of Jesus to the patient in our narrative;
secondly, such an influence is found to exist in persons who are
themselves somnambules, or otherwise under a disordered state of the
nerves: neither of which descriptions can apply to Jesus. If thus such
a cure of distant persons as is ascribed to Jesus in our narratives,
far outsteps the extreme limits of natural causation, as exhibited in
magnetism and the kindred phenomena; then must Jesus have been, so far
as the above narratives can lay claim to historical credit, a
supernatural being. But before we admit him to have been so really, it
is worth our while as critical inquirers, ta examine whether the
narrative under consideration could not have arisen without any
historical foundation; especially as by the very fact of the various
forms which it has taken in the different gospels it shows itself to
contain legendary ingredients. And here it is evident that the
miraculous cures of Jesus by merely touching the patient, such as we
have examples of in that of the leper, Matt. viii. 3, and in that of
the blind men, Matt. ix. 29, might by a natural climax rise, first into
the cure of persons when in his presence, by a mere word, as in the
case of the demoniacs, of the lepers, Luke xvii. 14, and other
sufferers; and then into the cure even of the absent by a word; of
which there is a strongly marked precedent in the Old Testament. In 2
Kings v. 9 ff. we read that when the Syrian general Naaman came before
the dwelling of the prophet Elisha that he might be cured of his
leprosy, the prophet came not out to meet him, but sent to him by a
servant the direction to wash himself seven times in the river Jordan.
At this the Syrian was so indignant that he was about to return home
without regarding the direction of the prophet. He had expected, he
said, that the prophet would come to him, and calling on his God,
strike his hand over the leprous place; that without any personal
procedure of this kind, the prophet merely directed him to go to the
river Jordan and wash, discouraged and irritated him, since if water
were the thing required, he might have had it better at home than here
in Israel. By this Old Testament history we see what was ordinarily
expected from a prophet, namely, that he should be able to cure when
present by bodily contact; that he could do so without contact, and at
a distance, was not presupposed. Elisha effected the cure of the
leprous general in the latter manner (for the washing was not the cause
of cure here, any more than in John ix., but the miraculous power of
the prophet, who saw fit to annex its influence to this external act),
and hereby proved himself a highly distinguished prophet: ought then
the Messiah in this particular to fall short of the prophet? Thus our
New Testament narrative is manifested to be a necessary reflection of
that Old Testament story. As, there, the sick person will not believe
in the possibility of his cure unless the prophet comes out of his
house; so here according to one edition of the story the applicant
likewise doubts the possibility of a cure, unless Jesus will come in to
his house; according to the other editions, he is convinced of the
power of Jesus to heal even without this; and all agree that Jesus,
like the prophet, succeeded in the performance of this especially
difficult miracle.

§ 99.

CURES ON THE SABBATH.

Jesus, according to the gospels, gave great scandal to the Jews by not
seldom performing his curative miracles on the sabbath. One example of
this is common to the three synoptical writers, two are peculiar to
Luke, and two to John.

In the narrative common to the three synoptical writers, two cases of
supposed desecration of the sabbath are united; the plucking of the
ears of corn by the disciples (Matt. xii. 1 parall.), and the cure of
the man with the withered hand by Jesus (v. 9 ff. parall.). After the
conversation which was occasioned by the plucking of the corn, and
which took place in the fields, the two first Evangelists continue as
if Jesus went from this scene immediately into the synagogue of the
same place, to which no special designation is given, and there, on the
occasion of the cure of the man with the withered hand, again held a
dispute on the observance of the sabbath. It is evident that these two
histories were originally united only on account of the similarity in
their tendency; hence it is to the credit of Luke, that he has
expressly separated them chronologically by the words ἐν ἑτέρῳ σαββάτῳ,
on another Sabbath. [1337] The further inquiry, which narrative is here
the more original? we may dismiss with the observation, that if the
question which Matthew puts into the mouth of the Pharisees, Is it
lawful to heal on the sabbath days? is held up as a specimen of
invented dialogue; [1338] we may with equal justice characterize in the
same way the question lent to Jesus by the two intermediate
Evangelists; while their much praised [1339] description of Jesus
calling to the man to stand forth in the midst, and then casting
reproving glances around, may be accused of having the air of dramatic
fiction.

The narratives all agree in representing the affliction under which the
patient laboured, as a χεὶρ ξηρὰ, or ἐξηραμμένη. Indefinite as this
expression is, it is treated too freely when it is understood, as by
Paulus, to imply only that the hand was injured by heat, [1340] or even
by a sprain, according to Venturini’s supposition. [1341] For when, in
order to determine the signification in which this term is used in the
New Testament we refer, as it is proper to do, to the Old Testament, we
find (1 Kings xiii. 4) a hand which, on being stretched out, ἐξηράνθη
(‏וַתִּיבַשׁ‎), described as incapable of being drawn back again, so that we
must understand a lameness and rigidity of the hand; and on a
comparison of Mark ix. 18, where the expression ξηραίνεσθαι to be
withered or wasted away is applied to an epileptic, a drying up and
shrinking of that member. [1342] Now from the narrative before us a
very plausible argument may be drawn in favour of the supposition, that
Jesus employed natural means in the treatment of this and other
diseases. Only such cures, it is said, were prohibited on the sabbath
as were attended with any kind of labour; thus, if the Pharisees, as it
is here said, expected Jesus to transgress the sabbatical laws by
effecting a cure, they must have known that he was not accustomed to
cure by his mere word, but by medicaments and surgical operations.
[1343] As, however, a cure merely by means of a conjuration otherwise
lawful, was forbidden on the sabbath, a fact which Paulus himself
elsewhere adduces; [1344] as moreover there was a controversy between
the schools of Hillel and Schammai, whether it were permitted even to
administer consolation to the sick on the sabbath; [1345] and as again,
according to an observation of Paulus, the more ancient rabbins were
stricter on the point of sabbatical observance than those whose
writings on this subject have come down to us; [1346] so the cures of
Jesus, even supposing that he used no natural means, might by captious
Pharisees be brought under the category of violations of the sabbath.
The principal objection to the rationalistic explanation, namely, the
silence of the Evangelists as to natural means, Paulus believes to be
obviated in the present case by conceiving the scene thus: at that
time, and in the synagogue, there was indeed no application of such
means; Jesus merely caused the hand to be shown to him, that he might
see how far the remedies hitherto prescribed by him (which remedies
however are still a bare assumption) had been serviceable, and he then
found that it was completely cured; for the expression ἀποκατεστάθη,
used by all the narrators, implies a cure completed previously, not one
suddenly effected in the passing moment. It is true that the context
seems to require this interpretation, since the outstretching of the
hand prior to the cure would appear to be as little possible, as in 1
Kings xiii. 4, the act of drawing it back: nevertheless the Evangelists
give us only the word of Jesus as the source of the cure; not natural
means, which are the gratuitous addition of expositors. [1347]

Decisive evidence, alike for the necessity of viewing this as a
miraculous cure, and for the possibility of explaining the origin of
the anecdote, is to be obtained by a closer examination of the Old
Testament narrative already mentioned, 1 Kings xiii. 1 ff.. A prophet
out of Judah threatened Jeroboam, while offering incense on his
idolatrous altar, with the destruction of the altar and the overthrow
of his false worship; the king with outstretched hand commanded that
this prophet of evil should be seized, when suddenly his hand dried up
so that he could not draw it again towards him, and the altar was rent.
On the entreaty of the king, however, the prophet besought Jehovah for
the restoration of the hand, and its full use was again granted. [1348]
Paulus also refers to this narrative in the same connexion, but only
for the purpose of applying to it his natural method of explanation; he
observes that Jeroboam’s anger may have produced a transient convulsive
rigidity of the muscles and so forth, in the hand just stretched out
with such impetuosity. But who does not see that we have here a legend
designed to glorify the monotheistic order of prophets, and to hold up
to infamy the Israelitish idolatry in the person of its founder
Jeroboam? The man of God denounces on the idolatrous altar quick and
miraculous destruction; the idolatrous king impiously stretches forth
his hand against the man of God; the hand is paralyzed, the idolatrous
altar falls asunder into the dust, and only on the intercession of the
prophet is the king restored. Who can argue about the miraculous and
the natural in what is so evidently a mythus? And who can fail to
perceive in our evangelical narrative an imitation of this Old
Testament legend, except that agreeably to the spirit of Christianity
the withering of the hand appears, not as a retributive miracle, but as
a natural disease, and only its cure is ascribed to Jesus; whence also
the outstretching of the hand is not, as in the case of Jeroboam, the
criminal cause of the infliction, continued as a punishment, and the
drawing of it back again a sign of cure; but, on the contrary, the hand
which had previously been drawn inwards, owing to disease, can after
the completion of the cure be again extended. That, in other instances,
about that period, the power of working cures of this kind was in the
East ascribed to the favourites of the gods, may be seen from a
narrative already adduced, in which, together with the cure of
blindness, the restoration of a diseased hand is attributed to
Vespasian. [1349]

But this curative miracle does not appear independently and as an
object by itself: the history of it hinges on the fact that the cure
was wrought on the Sabbath, and the point of the whole lies in the
words by which Jesus vindicates his activity in healing on the Sabbath
against the Pharisees. In Luke and Mark this defence consists in the
question, Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath days, or to do evil,
to save life or to destroy it? in Matthew, in a part of this question,
together with the aphorism on saving the sheep which might fall into
the pit on the sabbath. Luke, who has not this saying on the present
occasion, places it (varied by the substitution of ὄνος ἢ βοῦς, an ass
or an ox for πρόβατον sheep, and of φρέαρ, well or pit for βόθυνος,
ditch) in connexion with the cure of an ὑδρωπικὸς a man who had the
dropsy (xiv. 5); a narrative which has in general a striking similarity
to the one under consideration. Jesus takes food in the house of one of
the chief Pharisees, where, as in the other instance in the synagogue,
he is watched (here, ἦσαν παρατηρούμενοι, there, παρετήρουν). A
dropsical person is present; as, there, a man with a withered hand. In
the synagogue, according to Matthew, the Pharisees ask Jesus, εἰ ἔξεστι
τοῖς σάββασι θεραπεύειν; Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath days?
According to Mark and Luke, Jesus asks them whether it be lawful to
save life, etc.: so, here, he asks them, εἰ ἔξεστι τῷ σαββατῷ
θεραπερύειν; Is it lawful to heal on the sabbath? whereupon in both
histories the interrogated parties are silent (in that of the withered
hand, Mark: οἱ δέ ἐσιώπων; in that of the dropsical patient, Luke: οἱ
δὲ ἡσύχασαν). Lastly, in both histories we have the saying about the
animal fallen into a pit, in the one as an epilogue to the cure, in the
other (that of Matthew) as a prologue. A natural explanation, which has
not been left untried even with this cure of the dropsy, [1350] seems
more than usually a vain labour, where, as in this case, we have before
us no particular narrative, resting on its own historical basis, but a
mere variation on the theme of the sabbath cures, and the text on the
endangered domestic animal, which might come to one (Matthew) in
connexion with the cure of a withered hand, to another (Luke) with the
cure of a dropsical patient, and to a third in a different connexion
still; for there is yet a third Story of a miraculous cure with which a
similar saying is associated. Luke, namely, narrates (xiii. 10 ff.) the
cure of a woman bowed down by demoniacal influence, as having been
performed by Jesus on the sabbath; when to the indignant remonstrance
of the ruler of the synagogue, Jesus replies by asking, whether every
one does not loose his ox or ass from the stall on the sabbath, and
lead him away to watering? a question which is undeniably a variation
of the one given above. So entirely identical does this history appear
with the one last named, that Schleiermacher comes to this conclusion:
since in the second there is no reference to the first, and since
consequently the repetition is not excused by confession, the two
passages Luke xiii. 10, and xiv. 5, cannot have been written one after
the other by the same author. [1351]

Thus we have here, not three different incidents, but only three
different frames in which legend has preserved the memorable and
thoroughly popular aphorism on the domestic animal, to be rescued or
tended on the sabbath. Yet, unless we would deny to Jesus so original
and appropriate an argument, there must lie at the foundation a cure of
some kind actually performed by him on the sabbath; not, however, a
miraculous one. We have seen that Luke unites the saying with the cure
of a demoniacal patient: now it might have been uttered by Jesus on the
occasion of one of those cures of demoniacs of which, under certain
limitations, we have admitted the natural possibility. Or, when Jesus
in cases of illness among his followers applied the usual medicaments
without regard to the sabbath, he may have found this appeal to the
practical sense of men needful for his vindication. Or lastly, if there
be some truth in the opinion of rationalistic commentators that Jesus,
according to the oriental and more particularly the Essene custom,
occupied himself with the cure of the body as well as of the soul, he
may, when complying with a summons to the former work on the sabbath,
have had occasion for such an apology. But in adopting this last
supposition, we must not, with these commentators, seek in the
particular supernatural cures which the gospels narrate, the natural
reality; on the contrary, we must admit that this is totally lost to
us, and that the supernatural has usurped its place. [1352] Further, it
cannot have been cures in general with which that saying of Jesus was
connected; but any service performed by him or his disciples which
might be regarded as a rescuing or preservation of life, and which was
accompanied by external labour, might in his position with respect to
the Pharisaic party, furnish an occasion for such a defence.

Of the two cures on the sabbath narrated in the fourth gospel, one has
already been considered with the cures of the blind; the other (v. 1
ff.) might have been numbered among the cures of paralytics, but as the
patient is not so designated, it was admissible to reserve it for our
present head. In the porches of the pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem,
Jesus found a man who, as it subsequently appears, had been lame for
thirty-eight years; this sufferer he enables by a word to stand up and
carry home his bed, but, as it was the sabbath, he thus draws down on
himself the hostility of the Jewish hierarchy. Woolston [1353] and many
later writers have thought to get clear of this history in a singular
manner, by the supposition that Jesus here did not cure a real sufferer
but merely unmasked a hypocrite. [1354] The sole reason which can with
any plausibility be urged in favour of this notion, is that the cured
man points out Jesus to his enemies as the one who had commanded him to
carry his bed on the sabbath (v. 15; comp. 11 ff.), a circumstance
which is only to be explained on the ground that Jesus had enjoined
what was unwelcome. But that notification to the Pharisees might
equally be given, either with a friendly intention, as in the case of
the man born blind (John ix. 11, 25), or at least with the innocent one
of devolving the defence of the alleged violation of the sabbath on a
stronger than himself. [1355] The Evangelist at least gives it as his
opinion that the man was really afflicted, and suffered from a
wearisome disease, when he describes him as having had an infirmity
thirty-eight years, τριάκοντα καὶ ὀκτὼ ἔτη ἔχων ἐν τῇ ἀσθενίᾳ (v. 5):
for the forced interpretation once put on this passage by Paulus,
referring the thirty-eight years to the man’s age, and not to the
duration of his disease, he has not even himself ventured to reproduce.
[1356] On this view of the incident it is also impossible to explain
what Jesus says to the cured man on a subsequent meeting (v. 14):
Behold thou art made whole; sin no more lest a worse thing come unto
thee. Even Paulus is compelled by these words to admit that the man had
a real infirmity, though only a trifling one:—in other words he is
compelled to admit the inadequacy of the idea on which his explanation
of the incident is based, so that here again we retain a miracle, and
that not of the smallest.

In relation to the historical credibility of the narrative, it may
certainly be held remarkable that so important a sanative institution
as Bethesda is described to be by John, is not mentioned either by
Josephus or the rabbins, especially if the popular belief connected a
miraculous cure with this pool: [1357] but this affords nothing
decisive. It is true that in the description of the pool there lies a
fabulous popular notion, which appears also to have been received by
the writer (for even if v. 4 be spurious, something similar is
contained in the words κίνησις τοῦ ὕδατος, v. 3, and ταραχθῇ, v. 7).
But this proves nothing against the truth of the narrative, since even
an eye-witness and a disciple of Jesus may have shared a vulgar error.
To make credible, however, such a fact as that a man who had been lame
eight-and-thirty years, so that he was unable to walk, and completely
bed-ridden, should have been perfectly cured by a word, the supposition
of psychological influence will not suffice, for the man had no
knowledge whatever of Jesus, v. 13; nor will any physical analogy, such
as magnetism and the like, serve the purpose: but if such a result
really happened, we must exalt that by which it happened above all the
limits of the human and the natural. On the other hand, it ought never
to have been thought a difficulty [1358] that from among the multitude
of the infirm waiting in the porches of the pool, Jesus selected one
only as the object of his curative power, since the cure of him whose
sufferings had been of the longest duration was not only particularly
adapted, but also sufficient, to glorify the miraculous power of the
Messiah. Nevertheless, it is this very trait which suggests a suspicion
that the narrative has a mythical character. On a great theatre of
disease, crowded with all kinds of sufferers, Jesus, the exalted and
miraculously gifted physician, appears and selects the one who is
afflicted with the most obstinate malady, that by his restoration he
may present the most brilliant proof of his miraculous power. We have
already remarked that the fourth gospel, instead of extending the
curative agency of Jesus over large masses and to a great variety of
diseases, as the synoptical gospels do, concentrates it on a few cases
which proportionately gain in intensity: thus here, in the narrative of
the cure of a man who had been lame thirty-eight years, it has far
surpassed all the synoptical accounts of cures performed on persons
with diseased limbs, among whom the longest sufferer is described in
Luke xiii. 11, only as a woman who had had a spirit of infirmity
eighteen years. Without doubt the fourth Evangelist had received some
intimation (though, as we have gathered from other parts of his
history, it was far from precise) of cures of this nature performed by
Jesus, especially of that wrought on the paralytic, Matt. ix. 2 ff.
parall., for the address to the patient, and the result of the cure are
in this narrative in John almost verbally the same as in that case,
especially according to Mark’s account. [1359] There is even a vestige
in this history of John, of the circumstance that in the synoptical
narrative the cure appears in the light of a forgiveness of sins: for
as Jesus in the latter consoles the patient, before the cure, with the
assurance, thy sins are forgiven thee, so in the former, he warns him,
after the cure, in the words, sin no more, etc. For the rest, this
highly embellished history of a miraculous cure was represented as
happening on the sabbath, probably because the command to take up the
bed which it contained appeared the most suitable occasion for the
reproach of violating the sabbath.

§ 100.

RESUSCITATIONS OF THE DEAD.

The Evangelists tell us of three instances in which Jesus recalled the
dead to life. One of these is common to the three synoptists, one
belongs solely to Luke, and one to John.

The instance which is common to the three first Evangelists is the
resuscitation of a girl, and is in all the three gospels united with
the narrative of the woman who had an issue of blood (Matt. ix. 18 f.;
23–26; Mark v. 22 ff.; Luke viii. 41 ff.). In the more precise
designation of the girl and her father, the synoptical writers vary.
Matthew introduces the father generally as ἄρχων εἷς a certain ruler,
without any name; the two others as a ruler of the synagogue named
Jairus: the latter moreover describe the girl as being twelve years
old, and Luke states that she was the only child of her father;
particulars of which Matthew is ignorant. A more important difference
is, that according to Matthew the ruler in the first instance speaks of
his daughter to Jesus as being dead, and intreats him to restore her to
life; whereas according to the two other Evangelists, he left her while
yet living, though on the point of death, that he might fetch Jesus to
avert her actual decease, and first when Jesus was on the way with him,
people came out of his house with the information that his daughter had
in the meantime expired, so that to trouble Jesus further was in vain.
The circumstances of the resuscitation also are differently described,
for Matthew knows not that Jesus, as the other Evangelists state, took
with him only his three most confidential disciples as witnesses. Some
theologians, Storr for example, have thought these divergencies so
important, that they have supposed two different cases in which, among
other similar circumstances, the daughter, in one case of a civil ruler
(Matthew), in the other, of a ruler of the synagogue named Jairus (Mark
and Luke), was raised from the dead by Jesus. [1360] But that, as Storr
supposes, and as it is inevitable to suppose on his view, Jesus not
only twice resuscitated a girl, but also on both these occasions,
healed a woman with an issue immediately before, is a coincidence which
does not at all gain in probability by the vague observation of Storr,
that it is quite possible for very similar things to happen at
different times. If then it must be admitted that the Evangelists
narrate only one event, the weak attempt to give perfect agreement to
their narratives should be forborne. For neither can the expression of
Matthew ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησε mean, as Kuinöl maintains, [1361] est morti
proxima, nor can that of Mark, ἐσχάτως ἔχει, or of Luke ἀπέθνησκε,
imply that death had already taken place: not to mention that according
to both, the fact of the death is subsequently announced to the father
as something new. [1362]

Our more modern critics have wisely admitted a divergency between the
accounts in doing which they have unanimously given the palm of
superior accuracy to the intermediate Evangelists. Some are lenient
towards Matthew, and only attribute to his mode of narration a brevity
which might belong even to the representation of an eye-witness; [1363]
while others regard this want of particularity as an indication that
the first gospel had not an apostolic origin. [1364] Now that Mark and
Luke give the name of the applicant, on which Matthew is silent, and
also that they determine his rank more precisely than the latter, will
just as well bear an unfavourable construction for them, as the usual
favourable one; since the designation of persons by name, as we have
before remarked, is not seldom an addition of the later legend. For
example, the woman with the issue first receives the name of Veronica
in the tradition of John Malala; [1365] the Canaanitish woman that of
Justa in the Clementine Homilies: [1366] and the two thieves crucified
with Jesus, the names of Gestas and Demas in the Gospel of Nicodemus.
[1367] Luke’s μονογενὴς (one only daughter) only serves to make the
scene more touching, and the ἐτῶν δώδεκα twelve years of age, he, and
after him Mark, might have borrowed from the history of the woman with
the issue. The divergency that, according to Matthew, the maiden is
spoken of in the first instance as dead, according to the two others as
only dying, must have been considered very superficially by those who
have thought it possible to turn it in accordance with our own rule to
the disadvantage of Matthew, on the ground that his representation
serves to aggrandize the miracle. For in both the other gospels the
death of the girl is subsequently announced, and its being supposed in
Matthew to have occurred a few moments earlier is no aggrandizement of
the miracle. Nay, it is the reverse; for the miraculous power of Jesus
appears greater in the former, not indeed objectively, but
subjectively, because it is heightened by contrast and surprise. There,
where Jesus is in the first instance intreated to restore the dead to
life, he does no more than what was desired of him; here, on the
contrary, where supplicated only for the cure of a sick person, he
actually brings that person to life again, he does more than the
interested parties seek or understand. There, where the power of
awaking the dead is presupposed by the father to belong to Jesus, the
extraordinary nature of such a power is less marked than here, where
the father at first only presupposes the power of healing the sick, and
when death has supervened, is diverted from any further hope. In the
description of the arrival and the conduct of Jesus in the house where
the corpse lay, Matthew’s brevity is at least clearer than the diffuse
accounts of the two other Evangelists. Matthew tells us that Jesus,
having reached the house, put forth the minstrels already assembled for
the funeral, together with the rest of the crowd, on the ground that
there would be no funeral there; this is perfectly intelligible. But
Mark and Luke tell us besides that he excluded his disciples also, with
the exception of three, from the scene about to take place, and for
this it is difficult to discover a reason. That a greater number of
spectators would have been physically or psychologically an impediment
to the resuscitation, can only be said on the supposition that the
event was a natural one. Admitting the miracle, the reason for the
exclusion can only be sought in the want of fitness in the excluded
parties, whom, however, the sight of such a miracle would surely have
been the very means to benefit. But we must not omit to observe that
the two later synoptists, in opposition to the concluding statement of
Matthew that the fame of this event went abroad in the whole land,
represent Jesus as enjoining the strictest silence on the witnesses: so
that on the whole it rather appears that Mark and Luke regarded the
incident as a mystery, to which only the nearest relatives and the most
favoured disciples were admitted. Lastly, the difference on which
Schulz insists as favourable to the second and third Evangelists,
namely, that while Matthew makes Jesus simply take the maiden by the
hand, they have preserved to us the words which he at the same time
uttered, the former even in the original language;—can either have no
weight at all, or it must fall into the opposite scale. For that Jesus,
if he said anything when recalling a girl to life, made use of some
such words as ἡ παῖς ἐγείρον, maiden, I say unto thee, arise, the most
remote narrator might imagine, and to regard the ταλιθὰ κοῦμι of Mark
as an indication that this Evangelist drew from a peculiarly original
source, is to forget the more simple supposition that he translated
these words from the Greek of his informant for the sake of presenting
the life giving word in its original foreign garb, and thus enhancing
its mysteriousness, as we have before observed with reference to the
ἐφφαθὰ in the cure of the deaf man. After what we have seen we shall
willingly abstain from finding out whether the individual who
originally furnished the narrative in Luke were one of the three
confidential disciples, and whether the one who originally related it,
also put it into writing: a task to which only the acumen of
Schleiermacher is equal. [1368]

In relation to the facts of the case, the natural interpretation speaks
with more than its usual confidence, under the persuasion that it has
on its side the assurance of Jesus himself, that the maiden was not
really dead, but merely in a sleep-like swoon; and not only
rationalists, like Paulus, and semi-rationalists, like Schleiermacher,
but also decided supranaturalists, like Olshausen, believe, on the
strength of that declaration of Jesus, that this was no resuscitation
of the dead. [1369] The last-named commentator attaches especial
importance to the antithesis in the speech of Jesus, and because the
words οὐκ ἀπέθανε, is not dead, are followed by ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, but
sleepeth, is of opinion that the former expression cannot be
interpreted to mean merely, she is not dead, since I have resolved to
restore her to life; strange criticism,—for it is precisely this
addition which shows that she was only not dead, in so far as it was in
the power of Jesus to recall her to life. Reference is also made to the
declaration of Jesus concerning Lazarus, John xi. 14, Λάζαρος ἀπέθανε,
Lazarus is dead, which is directly the reverse of the passage in
question, οὐκ ἀπέθανε τὸ κοράσιον, the damsel is not dead. But Jesus
had before said of Lazarus, αὕτη ἡ ἀσθένεια οὐκ ἔστι πρὸς θάνατον, this
sickness is not unto death (v. 4), and Λάζαρος ὁ φίλος ἡμῶν κεκοίμηται,
our friend Lazarus sleepeth (v. 11). Thus in the case of Lazarus also,
who was really dead, we have just as direct a denial of death, and
affirmation of mere sleep, as in the narrative before us. Hence
Fritzsche is undoubtedly right when he paraphrases the words of Jesus
in our passage as follows: puellam ne pro mortua habetote, sed dormire
existimatote quippe in vitam mox redituram. Moreover, Matthew
subsequently (xi. 5) makes Jesus say, νεκροὶ ἐγείρονται, the dead are
raised up; and as he mentions no other instance of resuscitation by
Jesus, he must apparently have had this in his mind. [1370]

But apart from the false interpretation of the words of Jesus, this
view of the subject has many difficulties. That in many diseases
conditions may present themselves which have a deceptive resemblance to
death, or that in the indifferent state of medical science among the
Jews of that age especially, a swoon might easily be mistaken for death
is not to be denied. But how was Jesus to know that there was such a
merely apparent death in this particular case? However minutely the
father detailed to him the course of the disease, nay, even if Jesus
were acquainted beforehand with the particular circumstances of the
girl’s illness (as the natural explanation supposes): we must still
ask, how could he build so much on this information as, without having
seen the girl, and in contradiction to the assurance of the
eye-witnesses, decidedly to declare that she was not dead, according to
the rationalistic interpretation of his words? This would have been
rashness and folly to boot, unless Jesus had obtained certain knowledge
of the true state of the case in a supernatural way: [1371] to admit
which, however, is to abandon the naturalistic point of view. To return
to the explanation of Paulus; between the expressions, ἐκράτησε τῆς
χειρὸς αὐτῆς, he took her by the hand, and ἠγέρθη τὸ κοράσιον, the maid
arose, expressions which are closely enough connected in Matthew, and
are still more inseparably linked by the words εὐθέως and παραχρῆμα in
the other two gospels, he inserts a course of medical treatment, and
Venturini can even specify the different restoratives which were
applied. [1372] Against such arbitrary suppositions, Olshausen justly
maintains that in the opinion of the evangelical narrator the
life-giving word of Jesus (and we might add, the touch of his hand,
furnished with divine power) was the means of restoring the girl to
life.

In the case of resuscitation narrated by Luke alone (vii. 11 ff.) the
natural explanation has not such a handle as was presented by the
declaration of Jesus in the narrative just considered. Nevertheless,
the rationalistic commentators take courage, and rest their hopes
mainly on the circumstance that Jesus speaks to the young man lying in
the coffin (v. 14). Now, say they, no one would speak to a dead person,
but only to such an one as is ascertained or guessed to be capable of
hearing. [1373] But this rule would prove that all the dead whom Christ
will raise at the last day are only apparently dead, as otherwise they
could not hear his voice, which it is expressly said they will do (John
v. 28; comp. 1 Thess. iv. 16); it would therefore prove too much.
Certainly one who is spoken to must be supposed to hear, and in a
certain sense to be living; but in the present instance this holds only
in so far as the voice of him who quickens the dead can penetrate even
to the ears from which life has departed. We must indeed admit the
possibility that with the bad custom which prevailed among the Jews of
burying their dead a few hours after their decease, a merely apparent
corpse might easily be carried to the grave; [1374] but all by which it
is attempted to show that this possibility was here a reality, is a
tissue of fictions. In order to explain how Jesus, even without any
intention to perform a miracle, came to join the funeral procession,
and how the conjecture could occur to him that the individual about to
be buried was not really dead, it is first imagined that the two
processions, that of the funeral and that of the companions of Jesus,
met precisely under the gate of the city, and as they impeded each
other, halted for a while:—directly in opposition to the text, which
makes the bearers first stand still when Jesus touches the bier.
Affected by the peculiar circumstances of the case, which he had
learned during the pause in his progress, Jesus, it is said, approached
the mother, and not with any reference to a resurrection which he
intended to effect, but merely as a consolatory address, said to her,
Weep not. [1375] But what an empty, presuming comforter would he be,
who, when a mother was about to consign her only son to the grave,
should forbid her even the relief of tears, without offering to her
either real help by recalling the departed one, or ideal, by suggesting
grounds for consolation! Now the latter Jesus does not attempt: hence
unless we would allow him to appear altogether heartless, he must be
supposed to have resolved on the former, and for this he in fact makes
every preparation, designedly touching the bier, and causing the
bearers to stand still. Here, before the reanimating word of Jesus, the
natural explanation inserts the circumstance that Jesus observed some
sign of life in the youth, and on this, either immediately or after a
previous application of medicaments, [1376] spoke the words, which
helped completely to awake him. But setting aside the fact that those
intervening measures are only interpolated into the text, and that the
strong words: νεανίσκε, σοὶ λέγω, ἐγέρθητι, Young man, I say unto thee
arise! resemble rather the authoritative command of a miracle worker
than the attempt of a physician to restore animation; how, if Jesus
were conscious that the youth was alive when he met him, and was not
first recalled to life by himself, could he with a good conscience
receive the praise which, according to the narrative, the multitude
lavished on him as a great prophet on account of this deed? According
to Paulus, he was himself uncertain how he ought to regard the result;
but if he were not convinced that he ought to ascribe the result to
himself, it was his duty to disclaim all praise on account of it; and
if he omitted to do this, his conduct places him in an equivocal light,
in which he by no means appears in the other evangelical histories, so
far as they are fairly interpreted. Thus here also we must acknowledge
that the Evangelist intends to narrate to us a miraculous resuscitation
of the dead, and that according to him, Jesus also regarded his deed as
a miracle. [1377]

In the third history of a resurrection, which is peculiar to John
(chap. xi.), the resuscitated individual is neither just dead nor being
carried to his grave, but has been already buried several days. Here
one would have thought there was little hope of effecting a natural
explanation; but the arduousness of the task has only stimulated the
ingenuity and industry of the rationalists in developing their
conception of this narrative. We shall also see that together with the
rigorously consequent mode of interpretation of the
rationalists,—which, maintaining the historical integrity of the
evangelical narrative throughout, assumes the responsibility of
explaining every part naturally, there has appeared another system,
which distinguishes certain features of the narrative as additions
after the event, and is thus an advance towards the mythical
explanation.

The rationalistic expositors set out here from the same premises as in
the former narrative, namely, that it is in itself possible for a man
who has lain in a tomb four days to come to life again, and that this
possibility is strengthened in the present instance by the known custom
of the Jews; propositions which we shall not abstractedly controvert.
From this they proceed to a supposition which we perhaps ought not to
let pass so easily, [1378] namely, that from the messenger whom the
sisters had sent with the news of their brother’s illness, Jesus had
obtained accurate information of the circumstances of the disease; and
the answer which he gave to the messenger, This sickness is not unto
death (v. 4), is said to express, merely as an inference which he had
drawn from the report of the messenger, his conviction that the disease
was not fatal. Such a view of his friend’s condition would certainly
accord the best with his conduct in remaining two days in Peræa after
the reception of the message (v. 6); since, according to that
supposition, he could not regard his presence in Bethany as a matter of
urgent necessity. But how comes it that after the lapse of these two
days, he not only resolves to journey thither (v. 8), but also has
quite a different opinion of the state of Lazarus, nay, certain
knowledge of his death, which he first obscurely (v. 10) and then
plainly (v. 14) announces to his disciples? Here the thread of the
natural explanation is lost, and the break is only rendered more
conspicuous by the fiction of a second messenger, [1379] after the
lapse of two days, bringing word to Jesus that Lazarus had expired in
the interim. For the author of the gospel at least cannot have known of
a second messenger, otherwise he must have mentioned him, since the
omission to do so gives another aspect to the whole narrative, obliging
us to infer that Jesus had obtained information of the death of Lazarus
in a supernatural manner. Jesus, when he had resolved to go to Bethany,
said to the disciples, Lazarus sleepeth, but I go that I may awake him
out of sleep (κεκοίμηται—ἐξυπνίσω—v. 11); this the naturalists explain
by the supposition that Jesus must in some way have gathered from the
statements of the messengers who announced the death of Lazarus, that
the latter was only in a state of lethargy. But we can as little here
as in the former case impute to Jesus the foolish presumption of
giving, before he had even seen the alleged corpse, the positive
assurance that he yet lived. [1380] From this point of view, it is also
a difficulty that Jesus says to his disciples (v. 15) I am glad for
your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe (ἵνα
πιστεύσητε). Paulus explains these words to imply that Jesus feared
lest the death, had it happened in his presence, might have shaken
their faith in him; but, as Gabler [1381] has remarked, πιστεύω cannot
mean merely the negative: not to lose faith, which would rather have
been expressed by a phrase such as: ἵνα μὴ ἐκλείπῃ ἡ πίστις ὑμῶν, that
your faith fail not (see Luke xxii. 32); and moreover we nowhere find
that the idea which the disciples formed of Jesus as the Messiah was
incompatible with the death of a man, or, more correctly, of a friend,
in his presence.

From the arrival of Jesus in Bethany the evangelical narrative is
somewhat more favourable to the natural explanation. It is true that
Martha’s address to Jesus (v. 21 f.), Lord, if thou hadst been here, my
brother had not died, but I know that even now, whatsoever thou wilt
ask of God, he will give it thee, ἀλλὰ καὶ νῦν οἶδα, ὅτι, ὅσα ἂν αἰτήσῃ
τὸν θεὸν, δώσει σοι ὁ θεὸς, appears evidently to express the hope that
Jesus may be able even to recall the dead one to life. However, on the
assurance of Jesus which follows, Thy brother shall rise again,
ἀναστήσεται ὁ ἀδελφός σου, she answers despondingly, Yes, at the last
day. This is certainly a help to the natural explanation, for it seems
retrospectively to give to the above declaration of Martha (v. 22) the
general sense, that even now, although he has not preserved the life of
her brother, she believes Jesus to be him to whom God grants all that
he desires, that is, the favourite of the Deity, the Messiah. But the
expression which Martha there uses is not πιστεύω but οἶδα, and the
turn of phrase: I know that this will happen if thou only willest it to
be so, is a common but indirect form of petition, and is here the more
unmistakable, because the object of the entreaty is clearly indicated
by the foregoing antithesis. Martha evidently means, Thou hast not
indeed prevented the death of our brother, but even now it is not too
late, for at thy prayer God will restore him to thee and us. Martha’s
change of mind, from the hope which is but indirectly expressed in her
first reply (v. 24) to its extinction in the second, cannot be held
very surprising in a woman who here and elsewhere manifests a very
hasty disposition, and it is in the present case sufficiently explained
by the form of the foregoing assurance of Jesus (v. 23). Martha had
expected that Jesus would reply to her indirect prayer by a decided
promise of its fulfilment, and when he answers quite generally and with
an expression which it was usual to apply to the resurrection at the
last day (ἀναστήσεται), she gives a half-impatient half-desponding
reply. [1382] But that general declaration of Jesus, as well as the yet
more indefinite one (v. 25 f.), I am the resurrection and the life, is
thought favourable to the rationalistic view: Jesus, it is said, was
yet far from the expectation of an extraordinary result, hence he
consoles Martha merely with the general hope that he, the Messiah,
would procure for those who believed in him a future resurrection and a
life of blessedness. As however Jesus had before (v. 11) spoken
confidently to his disciples of awaking Lazarus, he must then have
altered his opinion in the interim—a change for which no cause is
apparent. Further, when (v. 40) Jesus is about to awake Lazarus, he
says to Martha, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldst believe thou
shouldst see the glory of God? evidently alluding to v. 23, in which
therefore he must have meant to predict the resurrection which he was
going to effect. That he does not declare this distinctly, and that he
again veils the scarcely uttered promise in relation to the brother (v.
25) in general promises for the believing, is the effect of design, the
object of which is to try the faith of Martha, and extend her sphere of
thought. [1383]

When Mary at length comes out of the house with her companions, her
weeping moves Jesus himself to tears. To this circumstance the natural
interpretation appeals with unusual confidence, asking whether if he
were already certain of his friend’s resurrection, he would not have
approached his grave with the most fervent joy, since he was conscious
of being able to call him again living from the grave in the next
moment? In this view the words ἐνεβριμήσατο (v. 33) and ἐμβριμώμενος
(v. 38) are understood of a forcible repression of the sorrow caused by
the death of his friend, which subsequently found vent in tears
(ἐδάκρυσεν). But both by its etymology, according to which it signifies
fremere in aliquem or in se, and by the analogy of its use in the New
Testament, where it appears only in the sense of increpare aliquem
(Matt. ix. 30; Mark i. 43, xiv. 5), ἐμβριμᾶσθαι is determined to imply
an emotion of anger, not of sorrow; where it is united, not with the
dative of another person, but with τῷ πνεύματι and ἐν ἑαυτῷ, it must be
understood of a silent, suppressed displeasure. This sense would be
very appropriate in v. 38, where it occurs the second time; for in the
foregoing observation of the Jews, Could not this man, who opened the
eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?
there lies an intimation that they were scandalized, the prior conduct
of Jesus perplexing them as to his present demeanour, and vice versâ.
But where the word ἐμβριμᾶσθαι is first used v. 33, the general weeping
seems to have been likely to excite in Jesus a melancholy, rather than
an angry emotion: yet even here a strong disapproval of the want of
faith (ὀλιγοπιστία) which was manifested was not impossible. That Jesus
then himself broke out into tears, only proves that his indignation
against the faithless generation around him dissolved into melancholy,
not that melancholy was his emotion from the beginning. Lastly, that
the Jews (v. 36) in relation to the tears which Jesus shed, said among
themselves, Behold, how he loved him! appears to be rather against than
for those who regard the emotion of Jesus as sorrow for the death of
his friend, and sympathy with the sisters; for, as the character of the
narrative of John in general would rather lead us to expect an
opposition between the real import of the demeanour of Jesus, and the
interpretation put upon it by the spectators, so in particular the Jews
in this gospel are always those who either misunderstand or pervert the
words and actions of Jesus. It is true that the mild character of Jesus
is urged, as inconsistent with the harshness which displeasure on his
part at the very natural weeping of Mary and the rest would imply;
[1384] but such a mode of thinking is by no means foreign to the Christ
of John’s gospel. He who gave to the βασιλικὸς, when preferring the
inoffensive request that he would come to his house and heal his son,
the rebuke, Except ye see signs and wonders ye will not believe; he
who, when some of his disciples murmured at the hard doctrines of the
sixth chapter, assailed them with the cutting question, Doth this
offend you? and Will ye also go away? (vi. 61, 67); he who repulsed his
own mother, when at the wedding at Cana she complained to him of the
want of wine, with the harsh reply, What have I to do with thee, Woman?
(ii. 4)—who thus was always the most displeased when men, not
comprehending his higher mode of thought or action, showed themselves
desponding or importunate,—would here find peculiar reason for this
kind of displeasure. If this be the true interpretation of the passage,
and if it be not sorrow for the death of Lazarus which Jesus here
exhibits, there is an end to the assistance which the natural
explanation of the entire event is thought to derive from this
particular feature; meanwhile, even on the other interpretation, a
momentary emotion produced by sympathy with the mourners is quite
reconcilable with the foreknowledge of the resurrection. [1385] And how
could the words of the Jews v. 37, serve, as rationalistic commentators
think, to excite in Jesus the hope that God would now perhaps perform
something extraordinary for him? The Jews did not express the hope that
he could awake the dead, but only the conjecture that he might perhaps
have been able to preserve his friend’s life; Martha therefore had
previously said more when she declared her belief that even now the
Father would grant him what he asked; so that if such hopes were
excited in Jesus from without, they must have been excited earlier, and
especially before the weeping of Jesus, to which it is customary to
appeal as the proof that they did not yet exist.

Even supranaturalists admit that the expression of Martha when Jesus
commanded that the stone should be taken away from the grave, Κύριε,
ἤδη ὄζει (v. 39), is no proof at all that decomposition had really
commenced, nor consequently that a natural resuscitation was
impossible, since it may have been a mere inference from the length of
time since the burial. [1386] But more weight must be attached to the
words with which Jesus, repelling the objections of Martha, persists in
having the tomb opened (v. 40): Said I not unto thee that if thou
wouldst believe thou shouldst see the glory of God? How could he say
this unless he was decidedly conscious of his power to resuscitate
Lazarus? According to Paulus, this declaration only implied generally
that those who have faith will, in some way or other, experience a
glorious manifestation of the divinity. But what glorious manifestation
of the divinity was to be seen here, on the opening of the grave of one
who had been buried four days, unless it were his restoration to life?
and what could be the sense of the words of Jesus, as opposed to the
observation of Martha, that her brother was already within the grasp of
decay, but that he was empowered to arrest decay? But in order to learn
with certainty the meaning of the words τὴν δόξαν τοῦ θεοῦ in our
present passage we need only refer to v. 4, where Jesus had said that
the sickness of Lazarus was not unto death, πρὸς θάνατον, but for the
glory of God, ὑπὲρ τῆς δόξης τοῦ θεοῦ. Here the first member of the
antithesis, not unto death, clearly shows that the δόξα τοῦ θεοῦ
signifies the glorification of God by the life of Lazarus, that is,
since he was now dead, by his resurrection: a hope which Jesus could
not venture to excite in the most critical moment, without having a
superior assurance that it would be fulfilled. [1387] After the opening
of the grave, and before he says to the dead man, Come forth! he thanks
the Father for having heard his prayer. This is adduced, in the
rationalistic point of view, as the most satisfactory proof that he did
not first recall Lazarus to life by those words, but on looking into
the grave found him already alive again. Truly, such an argument was
not to be expected from theologians who have some insight into the
character of John’s gospel. These ought to have remembered how common
it is in this gospel, as for example in the expression glorify thy son,
to represent that which is yet to be effected or which is only just
begun, as already performed; and in the present instance it is
especially suited to mark the certainty of obtaining fulfilment, that
it is spoken of as having already happened. And what invention does it
further require to explain, both how Jesus could perceive in Lazarus
the evidences of returning life, and how the latter could have come to
life again! Between the removal of the stone, says Paulus, and the
thanksgiving of Jesus, lies the critical interval when the surprising
result was accomplished; then must Jesus, yet some steps removed from
the grave, have discerned that Lazarus was living. By what means? and
how so quickly and unhesitatingly? and why did he and no one else
discern it? He may have discerned it by the movements of Lazarus, it is
conjectured. But how easily might he deceive himself with respect to a
dead body lying in a dark cavern; how precipitate was he, if without
having examined more nearly, he so quickly and decidedly declared his
conviction that Lazarus lived! Or, if the movements of the supposed
corpse were strong and not to be mistaken, how could they escape the
notice of the surrounding spectators? Lastly, how could Jesus in his
prayer represent the incident about to take place as a sign of his
divine mission, if he was conscious that he had not effected, but only
discovered, the resuscitation of Lazarus? As arguments for the natural
possibility of a return of life in a man who had been interred four
days, the rationalistic explanation adduces our ignorance of the
particular circumstances of the supposed death, the rapidity of
interment among the Jews, afterwards the coolness of the cave, the
strong fragrance of the spices, and lastly, the reanimating draught of
warm air, which on the rolling away of the stone streamed into the
cave. But all these circumstances do not produce more than the lowest
degree of possibility, which coincides with the highest degree of
improbability: and with this the certainty with which Jesus predicts
the result must remain irreconcilable. [1388]

These decided predictions are indeed the main hindrance to the natural
interpretation of this chapter; hence it has been sought to neutralize
them, still from the rationalistic position, by the supposition that
they did not proceed from Jesus, but may have been added ex eventu by
the narrator. Paulus himself found the words ἐξυπνίσω αὐτὸν (v. 11)
quite too decided, and therefore ventured the conjecture that the
narrator, writing with the result in his mind, had omitted a qualifying
perhaps, which Jesus had inserted. [1389] This expedient has been more
extensively adopted by Gabler. Not only does he partake the opinion of
Paulus as to the above expression, but already in v. 4, he is inclined
to lay the words ὑπὲρ τῆς δόξης τοῦ θεοῦ for the glory of God, to the
account of the Evangelist: again v. 15, he conjectures that in the
words χαίρω δι’ ὑμᾶς, ἵνα πιστεύσητε, ὅτι οὐκ ἤμην ἐκεῖ, I am glad for
your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe, there is
a slight exaggeration resulting from John’s knowledge of the issue;
lastly, even in relation to the words of Martha v. 22, ἀλλὰ καὶ νῦν
οἶδα κ.τ.λ. he admits the idea of an addition from the pen of the
writer. [1390] By the adoption of this expedient, the natural
interpretation avows its inability by itself to cope with the
difficulties in John’s narrative. For if, in order to render its
application possible, it is necessary to expunge the most significant
passages, it is plain that the narrative in its actual state does not
admit of a natural explanation. It is true that the passages, the
incompatibility of which with the rationalistic mode of explanation is
confessed by their excision, are very sparingly chosen; but from the
above observations it is clear, that if all the features in this
narrative which are really opposed to the natural view of the entire
event were ascribed to the Evangelist, it would in the end be little
short of the whole that must be regarded as his invention. Thus, what
we have done with the two first narratives of resuscitations, is with
the last and most remarkable history of this kind, effected by the
various successive attempts at explanation themselves, namely, to
reduce the subject to the alternative: that we either receive the event
as supernatural, according to the representation of the evangelical
narrative; or, if we find it incredible as such, deny that the
narrative has an historical character.

In order, in this dilemma, to arrive at a decision, with respect to all
the three narratives, we must refer to the peculiar character of the
kind of miracles which we have now before us. We have hitherto been
ascending a ladder of miracles; first, cures of mental disorders, then,
of all kinds of bodily maladies, in which, however, the organization of
the sufferer was not so injured as to cause the cessation of
consciousness and life; and now, the revivification of bodies, from
which the life has actually departed. This progression in the
marvellous is, at the same time, a gradation in inconceivability. We
have indeed been able to represent to ourselves how a mental
derangement, in which none of the bodily organs were attacked beyond
the nervous system, which is immediately connected with mental action,
might have been removed, even in a purely psychical manner, by the mere
word, look, and influence of Jesus: but the more deeply the malady
appeared to have penetrated into the entire corporeal system, the more
inconceivable to us was a cure of this kind. Where in insane persons
the brain was disturbed to the extent of raging madness, or where in
nervous patients the disorder was so confirmed as to manifest itself in
periodical epilepsy; there we could scarcely imagine how permanent
benefit could be conferred by that mental influence; and this was yet
more difficult where the disease had no immediate connection with the
mind, as in leprosy, blindness, lameness, etc. And yet, up to this
point, there was always something present, to which the miraculous
power of Jesus could apply itself; there was still a consciousness in
the objects, on which to make an impression—a nervous life to be
stimulated. Not so with the dead. The corpse from which life and
consciousness have flown has lost the last fulcrum for the power of the
miracle worker; it perceives him no longer—receives no impression from
him; for the very capability of receiving impressions must be conferred
on him anew. But to confer this, that is, to give life in the proper
sense, is a creative act, and to think of this as being exercised by a
man, we must confess to be beyond our power.

But even within the limits of our three histories of resurrections,
there is an evident climax. Woolston has remarked with justice, that it
seems as if each of these narratives were intended to supply what was
wanting in the preceding. [1391] The daughter of Jairus is restored to
life on the same bed on which she had just expired; the youth of Nain,
when already in his coffin, and on his way to interment; lastly,
Lazarus, after four days’ abode in the tomb. In the first history, a
word was the only intimation that the maiden had fallen under the
powers of the grave; in the second, the fact is imprinted on the
imagination also, by the picture of the young man being already carried
out of the city towards his grave; but in the third, Lazarus, who had
been some time inclosed in the grave, is depicted in the strongest
manner as an inhabitant of the nether world: so that, if the reality of
the death could be doubted in the first instance, this would become
more difficult in the second, and in the third, as good as impossible.
[1392] With this gradation, there is a corresponding increase in the
difficulty of rendering the three events conceivable; if, indeed, when
the fact itself is inconceivable, there can exist degrees of
inconceivableness between its various modifications. If, however, the
resurrection of a dead person in general were possible, it must rather
be possible in the case of one just departed, and yet having some
remains of vital warmth, than in that of a corpse, cold and being
carried to the grave; and again, in this, rather than in the case of
one who had already lain four days in the grave, and in which decay is
supposed to have commenced, nay, with respect to which, this
supposition, if not confirmed, is at least not denied.

But, setting aside the miraculous part of the histories in question,
each succeeding one is both intrinsically more improbable, and
externally less attested, than the foregoing. As regards the internal
improbability, one element of this, which indeed lies in all, and
therefore also in the first, is especially conspicuous in the second.
As a motive by which Jesus was induced to raise the young man at Nain,
the narrative mentions compassion for the mother (v. 13). Together with
this we are to include, according to Olshausen, a reference to the
young man himself. For, he observes, man as a conscious being can never
be treated as a mere instrument, which would be the case here, if the
joy of the mother were regarded as the sole object of Jesus in raising
the youth. [1393] This remark of Olshausen demands our thanks, not that
it removes the difficulty of this and every other resuscitation of the
dead, but that it exhibits that difficulty in the clearest light. For
the conclusion, that what in itself, or according to enlightened ideas,
is not allowable or fitting, cannot be ascribed to Jesus by the
Evangelists, is totally inadmissible. We should rather (presupposing
the purity of the character of Jesus) conclude that when the
evangelical narratives ascribe to him what is not allowable, they are
incorrect. Now that Jesus, in his resuscitations of the dead, made it a
consideration whether the persons to be restored to life might, from
the spiritual condition in which they died, derive advantage from the
restoration or the contrary, we find no indication; that, as Olshausen
supposes, the corporeal awakening was attended with a spiritual
awakening, or that such a result was expected, is nowhere said. These
resuscitated individuals, not excepting even Lazarus, recede altogether
from our observation after their return to life, and hence Woolston was
led to ask why Jesus rescued from the grave precisely these
insignificant persons, and not rather John the Baptist, or some other
generally useful man. Is it said, he knew it to be the will of
Providence that these men, once dead, should remain so? But then, it
should seem, he must have thought the same of all who had once died,
and to Woolston’s objection there remains no answer but this: as it was
positively known concerning celebrated men, that the breach which their
deaths occasioned was never filled up by their restoration to life,
legend could not annex the resurrections which she was pleased to
narrate to such names, but must choose unknown subjects, in relation to
which she was not under the same control.

The above difficulty is common to all the three narratives, and is only
rendered more prominent in the second by an accidental expression: but
the third narrative is full of difficulties entirely peculiar to
itself, since the conduct of Jesus throughout, and, to a considerable
extent, that of the other parties, is not easily to be conceived. When
Jesus receives the information of the death of Lazarus, and the request
of the sisters implied therein, that he would come to Bethany, he
remains still two days in the same place, and does not set out toward
Judea till after he is certain of the death. Why so? That it was not
because he thought the illness attended with no danger, has been
already shown; on the contrary, he foresaw the death of Lazarus. That
indifference was not the cause of the delay, is expressly remarked by
the Evangelist (v. 5). What then? Lücke conjectures that Jesus was then
occupied with a particularly fruitful ministry in Peræa, which he was
not willing to interrupt for the sake of Lazarus, holding it his duty
to postpone his less important call as a worker of miracles and a
succouring friend, to his higher call as a teacher. [1394] But he might
here have very well done the one, and not have left the other undone;
he might either have left some disciples to carry forward his work in
that country, or remaining there himself, have still cured Lazarus,
whether through the medium of a disciple, or by the power of his will
at a distance. Moreover, our narrator is entirely silent as to such a
cause for the delay of Jesus. This view of it, therefore, can be
listened to only on the supposition that no other motive for the delay
is intimated by the Evangelist, and even then as nothing more than a
conjecture. Now another motive is clearly indicated, as Olshausen has
remarked, in the declaration of Jesus, v. 15, that he is glad he was
not present at the death of Lazarus, because, for the object of
strengthening the faith of the disciples, the resurrection of his
friend would be more effectual than his cure. Thus Jesus had designedly
allowed Lazarus to die, that by his miraculous restoration to life, he
might procure so much the more faith in himself. Tholuck and Olshausen
on the whole put the same construction on this declaration of Jesus;
but they confine themselves too completely to the moral point of view,
when they speak of Jesus as designing, in his character of teacher, to
perfect the spiritual condition of the family at Bethany and of his
disciples; [1395] since, according to expressions, such as ἵνα δοξασθῇ
ὁ υἱὸς τ. θ. (v. 4), his design was rather the messianic one of
spreading and confirming faith in himself as the Son of God, though
principally, it is true, within that narrow circle. Here Lücke
exclaims: by no means! never did the Saviour of the needy, the noblest
friend of man, act thus arbitrarily and capriciously; [1396] and De
Wette also observes, that Jesus in no other instance designedly brings
about or increases his miracles. [1397] The former, as we have seen,
concludes that something external, preoccupation elsewhere, detained
Jesus; a supposition which is contrary to the text, and which even De
Wette finds inadequate, though he points out no other expedient. If
then these critics are correct in maintaining that the real Jesus
cannot have acted thus; while, on the other hand, they are incorrect in
denying that the author of the fourth gospel makes his Jesus act thus:
nothing remains but with the author of the Probabilia, [1398] from this
incongruity of the Christ in John’s gospel with the Christ alone
conceivable as the real one, to conclude that the narrative of the
fourth Evangelist is unhistorical.

The alleged conduct of the disciples also, v. 12 f., is such as to
excite surprise. If Jesus had represented to them, or at least to the
three principal among them, the death of the daughter of Jairus as a
mere sleep, how could they, when he said of Lazarus, he sleeps, I will
awake him, κεκοίμηται, ἐξυπνίσω αὐτὸν think that he referred to a
natural sleep? One would not awake a patient out of a healthy sleep;
hence it must have immediately occurred to the disciples that here
sleep (κοίμησις) was spoken of in the same sense as in the case of the
maiden. That, instead of this, the disciples understand the deep
expressions of Jesus quite superficially, is entirely in the fourth
Evangelist’s favourite manner, which we have learned to recognise by
many examples. If tradition had in any way made known to him, that to
speak of death as a sleep was part of the customary phraseology of
Jesus, there would immediately spring up in his imagination, so fertile
in this kind of antithesis, a misunderstanding corresponding to that
figure of speech. [1399]

The observation of the Jews, v. 37, is scarcely conceivable,
presupposing the truth of the synoptical resuscitations of the dead.
The Jews appeal to the cure of the man born blind (John ix.), and draw
the inference, that he who had restored sight to this individual, must
surely have been able to avert the death of Lazarus. How came they to
refer to this heterogeneous and inadequate example, if there lay before
them, in the two resuscitations of the dead, miracles more analogous,
and adapted to give hope even in this case of actual death? It is
certain that the Galilean resuscitations were prior to this of Lazarus,
since Jesus after this period went no more into Galilee; neither could
those events remain unknown in the capital, [1400] especially as we are
are expressly told that the fame of them went abroad into all that
land, throughout all Judæa, and throughout all the country round about.
To the real Jews therefore these cases must have been well known; and
as the fourth Evangelist makes his Jews refer to something less to the
point, it is probable that he knew nothing of the above events: for
that the reference belongs to him, and not to the Jews themselves, is
evident from the fact, that he makes them refer to the very cure which
he had last narrated.

A formidable difficulty lies also in the prayer which is put into the
mouth of Jesus, v. 41 f. After thanking the Father for hearing his
prayer, he adds, that for himself he knew well that the Father heard
him always, and that he uttered this special thanksgiving only for the
sake of the people around him, in order to obtain their belief in his
divine mission. Thus he first gives his address a relation to God, and
afterwards reduces this relation to a feigned one, intended to exist
only in the conceptions of the people. Nor is the sense of the words
such as Lücke represents it, namely, that Jesus for his own part would
have prayed in silence, but for the benefit of the people uttered his
prayer aloud (for in the certainty of fulfilment there lies no motive
for silent prayer); they imply that for himself he had no need to thank
the Father for a single result, as if surprised, since he was sure
beforehand of having his wish granted, so that the wish and the thanks
were coincident; that is, to speak generally, his relation to the
Father did not consist in single acts of prayer, fulfilment, and
thanks, but in a continual and permanent interchange of these
reciprocal functions, in which no single act of gratitude in and by
itself could be distinguished in this manner. If it may be admitted
that in relation to the necessities of the people, and out of sympathy
with them, such an isolated act could have taken place on the part of
Jesus; yet, if there be any truth in this explanation, Jesus must have
been entirely borne away by sympathy, must have made the position of
the people his own, and thus in that moment have prayed from his own
impulse, and on his own behalf. [1401] But, here, scarcely has he begun
to pray when the reflection arises that he does this from no need of
his own; he prays therefore from no lively feeling, but out of cold
accommodation, and this must be felt difficult to conceive, nay, even
revolting. He who in this manner prays solely for the edification of
others, ought in no case to tell them that he prays from their point of
view, not from his own; since an audible prayer cannot make any
impression on the hearers, unless they suppose the speaker’s whole soul
to be engaged. How then could Jesus make his prayer ineffective by this
addition? If he felt impelled to lay before God a confession of the
true state of the case, he might have done this in silence; that he
uttered the confession aloud, and that we in consequence read it, could
only happen on a calculation of advantage to later Christendom, to the
readers of the gospel. While the thanksgiving was, for obvious reasons,
needful to awake the faith of the spectators, the more developed faith
which the fourth gospel presupposes, might regard it as a difficulty;
because it might possibly appear to proceed from a too subordinate, and
more particularly, a too little constant relation between the Father
and the Son. Consequently the prayer which was necessary for the
hearers, must be annulled for readers of a later period, or its value
restricted to that of a mere accommodation. But this consideration
cannot have been present in the mind of Jesus: it could belong only to
a Christian who lived later. This has been already felt by one critic,
who has hence proposed to throw v. 42 out of the text, as an
unauthenticated addition by a latter hand. [1402] But as this judgment
is destitute of any external reason, if the above passage could not
have been uttered by Jesus, we must conclude that the Evangelist only
lent the words to Jesus in order to explain the preceding, v. 41; and
to this opinion Lücke has shown himself not altogether disinclined.
[1403] Assuredly we have here words, which are only lent to Jesus by
the Evangelist: but if it be so with these words, what is our security
that it is so only with these? In a gospel in which we have already
detected many discourses to be merely lent to the alleged speakers—in a
narrative which presents historical improbabilities at all points,—the
difficulty contained in a single verse is not a sign that that verse
does not belong to the rest, but that the whole taken together does not
belong to the class of historical compositions. [1404]

As regards the gradation in the external testimony to the three
narratives, it has already been justly observed by Woolston, that only
the resurrection of the daughter of Jairus, in which the miraculous is
the least marked, appears in three Evangelists; the two others are each
related by one Evangelist only: [1405] and as it is far less easy to
understand the omission in the other gospels in relation to the
resurrection of Lazarus, than in relation to the raising of the youth
at Nain, there is here again a complete climax.

That the last-named event is mentioned by the author of Luke’s gospel
alone;—especially that Matthew and Mark have it not instead of the
resuscitation of the daughter of Jairus, or together with that
narrative,—is a difficulty in more than one respect. [1406] Even viewed
generally as a resuscitation of a dead person, one would have thought,
as there were few of such miracles according to our gospels, and as
they are highly calculated to carry conviction, it could not have been
too much trouble to the Evangelists to recount it as a second instance;
especially as Matthew has thought it worth while, for example, to
narrate three cures of blindness, which nevertheless were of far less
importance, and of which, therefore, he might have spared two,
inserting instead of them either one or the other of the remaining
resuscitations of the dead. But admitting that the two first
Evangelists had some reason, no longer to be discovered, for not giving
more than one history of a resurrection, they ought, one must think, to
have chosen that of the youth at Nain far rather than that of the
daughter of Jairus, because the former, as we have above observed, was
a more indubitable and striking resurrection. As nevertheless they give
only the latter, Matthew at least can have known nothing of the others;
Mark, it is true, probably had it before him in Luke, but he had, as
early as iii. 7, or 20, leaped from Luke vi. 12 (17) to Matt. xii. 15;
and only at iv. 35 (21 ff.) returns to Luke viii. 22 (16 ff.); [1407]
thus passing over the resurrection of the youth (Luke vii. 11 ff.). But
now arises the second question: how can the resurrection of the youth,
if it really happened, have remained unknown to the author of the first
gospel? Even apart from the supposition that this gospel had an
apostolic origin, this question is fraught with no less difficulty than
the former. Besides the people, there were present many of his
disciples, μαθηταὶ ἱκανοὶ; the place, Nain, according to the account
which Josephus gives of its position relative to Mount Tabor, cannot
have been far from the ordinary Galilean theatre of the ministry of
Jesus; [1408] lastly, the fame of the event, as was natural, was widely
disseminated (v. 17). Schleiermacher is of opinion that the authors of
the first sketches from the life of Jesus, not being within the
apostolic circle, did not generally venture to apply to the much
occupied apostles, but rather sought the friends of Jesus of the second
order, and in doing so they naturally turned to those places where they
might hope for the richest harvests,—to Capernaum and Jerusalem; events
which, like the resuscitation in question, occurred in other places,
could not so easily become common property. But first, this conception
of the case is too subjective, making the promulgation of the most
important deeds of Jesus, dependent on the researches of amateurs and
collectors of anecdotes, who went about gleaning, like Papias, at a
later period; secondly, (and these two objections are essentially
connected,) there lies at its foundation the erroneous idea that such
histories were fixed, like inert bodies once fallen to the ground, in
the places to which they belonged, guarded there as lifeless treasures,
and only exhibited to those who took the trouble to resort to the spot:
instead of which, they were rather like the light-winged inhabitants of
the air, flying far away from the place which gave them birth, roaming
everywhere, and not seldom losing all association with their original
locality. We see the same thing happen daily; innumerable histories,
both true and false, are represented as having occurred at the most
widely different places. Such a narrative, once formed, is itself the
substance, the alleged locality, the accident: by no means can the
locality be the substance, to which the narrative is united as the
accident, as it would follow from Schleiermacher’s supposition. Since
then it cannot well be conceived that an incident of this kind, if it
really happened, could remain foreign to the general tradition, and
hence unknown to the author of the first gospel: the fact of this
author’s ignorance of the incident gives rise to a suspicion that it
did not really happen.

But this ground of doubt falls with incomparably greater weight, on the
narrative of the resurrection of Lazarus in the fourth gospel. If the
authors or collectors of the three first gospels knew of this, they
could not, for more than one reason, avoid introducing it into their
writings. For, first, of all the resuscitations effected by Jesus, nay,
of all his miracles, this resurrection of Lazarus, if not the most
wonderful, is yet the one in which the marvellous presents itself the
most obviously and strikingly, and which therefore, if its historical
reality can be established, is a pre-eminently strong proof of the
extraordinary endowments of Jesus as a divine messenger; [1409] whence
the Evangelists, although they had related one or two other instances
of the kind, could not think it superfluous to add this also. But,
secondly, the resurrection of Lazarus had, according to the
representation of John, a direct influence in the development of the
fate of Jesus; for we learn from xi. 47 ff., that the increased resort
to Jesus, and the credit which this event procured him, led to that
consultation of the Sanhedrim in which the sanguinary counsel of
Caiaphas was given and approved. Thus the event had a double
importance—pragmatical as well as dogmatical; consequently, the
synoptical writers could not have failed to narrate it, had it been
within their knowledge. Nevertheless, theologians have found out all
sorts of reasons why those Evangelists, even had the fact been known to
them, should refrain from its narration. Some have been of opinion that
at the time of the composition of the three first gospels, the history
was still in every mouth, so that to make a written record of it was
superfluous; [1410] others, on the contrary, have conjectured that it
was thought desirable to guard against its further publication, lest
danger should accrue to Lazarus and his family, the former of whom,
according to John xii. 10, was persecuted by the Jewish hierarchy on
account of the miracle which had been preformed in him; a caution for
which there was no necessity at the later period at which John wrote
his gospel. [1411] It is plain that these two reasons nullify each
other, and neither of them is in itself worthy of a serious refutation;
yet as similar modes of evading a difficulty are still more frequently
resorted to than might be supposed, we ought not to think some
animadversion on them altogether thrown away. The proposition, that the
resurrection of Lazarus was not recorded by the synoptists because it
was generally known in their circle, proves too much; since on this
rule, precisely the most important events in the life of Jesus, his
baptism, death, and resurrection, must have remained unwritten.
Moreover, writings, which like our gospels, originate in a religious
community, do not serve merely to make known the unknown; it is their
office also to preserve what is already known. In opposition to the
other explanation, it has been remarked by others, that the publication
of this history among those who were not natives of Palestine, as was
the case with those for whom Mark and Luke wrote, could have done no
injury to Lazarus; and even the author of the first gospel, admitting
that he wrote in and for Palestine, could hardly have withheld a fact
in which the glory of Christ was so peculiarly manifested, merely out
of consideration to Lazarus, who, supposing the more improbable case
that he was yet living at the time of the composition of the first
gospel, ought not, Christian as he doubtless was, to refuse to suffer
for the name of Christ; and the same observation would apply to his
family. The most dangerous time for Lazarus according to John xii. 10,
was that immediately after his resurrection, and a narrative which
appeared so long after, could scarcely have heightened or renewed this
danger; besides, in the neighbourhood of Bethany and Jerusalem whence
danger was threatened to Lazarus, the event must have been so
well-known and remembered that nothing was to be risked by its
publication. [1412]

It appears then that the resurrection of Lazarus, since it is not
narrated by the synoptists, cannot have been known to them; and the
question arises, how was this ignorance possible? Hase gives the
mysterious answer, that the reason of this omission lies hid in the
common relations under which the synoptists in general were silent
concerning all the earlier incidents in Judæa; but this leaves it
uncertain, at least so far as the expressions go, whether we ought to
decide to the disadvantage of the fourth gospel or of its predecessors.
The latest criticism of the gospel of Matthew has cleared up the
ambiguity in Hase’s answer after its usual manner, determining the
nature of those common relations which he vaguely adduces, thus: Every
one of the synoptists, by his ignorance of a history which an apostle
must have known, betrays himself to be no apostle. [1413] But this
renunciation of the apostolic origin of the first gospel, does not by
any means enable us to explain the ignorance of its author and his
compeers of the resurrection of Lazarus. For besides the remarkable
character of the event, its occurrence in the very heart of Judæa, the
great attention excited by it, and its having been witnessed by the
apostles,—all these considerations render it incomprehensible that it
should not have entered into the general tradition, and from thence
into the synoptical gospels. It is argued that these gospels are
founded on Galilean legends, i.e. oral narratives and written notices
by the Galilean friends and companions of Jesus; that these were not
present at the resurrection of Lazarus, and therefore did not include
it in their memoirs; and that the authors of the first gospels,
strictly confining themselves to the Galilean sources of information,
likewise passed over the event. [1414] But there was not such a wall of
partition between Galilee and Judæa, that the fame of an event like the
resurrection of Lazarus could help sounding over from the one to the
other. Even if it did not happen during a feast time, when (John iv.
45) many Galileans might be eye-witnesses, yet the disciples, who were
for the greater part Galileans, were present (v. 16), and must, so soon
as they returned into Galilee after the resurrection of Jesus, have
spread abroad the history throughout this province, or rather, before
this, the Galileans who kept the last passover attended by Jesus, must
have learned the event, the report of which was so rife in the city.
Hence even Lücke finds this explanation of Gabler’s unsatisfactory; and
on his own side attempts to solve the enigma by the observation, that
the original evangelical tradition, which the synoptists followed, did
not represent the history of the Passion mainly in a pragmatical light,
and therefore gave no heed to this event as the secret motive of the
murderous resolve against Jesus, and that only John, who was initiated
into the secret history of the Sanhedrim, was in a condition to supply
this explanatory fact. [1415] This view of the case would certainly
appear to neutralize one reason why the synoptists must have noticed
the event in question, namely, that drawn from its pragmatical
importance; but when it is added, that as a miracle regarded in itself,
apart from its more particular circumstances, it might easily be lost
among the rest of those narratives from which we have in the three
first gospels a partly accidental selection,—we must reply, that the
synoptical selection of miracles appears to be an accidental one only
when that is at once assumed which ought first to be proved: namely,
that the miracles in the fourth gospel are historical: and unless the
selection be casual to a degree inconsistent with the slightest
intelligence in the compilers, such a miracle cannot have been
overlooked. [1416]

It has doubtless been these and similar considerations, which have led
the latest writers on the controversy concerning the first gospel, to
complain of the one-sidedness with which the above question is always
answered to the disadvantage of the synoptists, especially Matthew, as
if it were forgotten that an answer dangerous to the fourth gospel lies
just as near at hand. [1417] For our own part, we are not so greatly
alarmed by the fulminations of Lücke, as to be deterred from the
expression of our opinion on the subject. This theologian, even in his
latest editions, reproaches those who, from the silence of the
synoptical writers, conclude that this narrative is a fiction and the
gospel of John not authentic, with an unparalleled lack of discernment,
and a total want of insight into the mutual relations of our gospels
(that is, into those relations viewed according to the professional
conviction of theologians, which is unshaken even by the often
well-directed attacks of the author of the Probabilia). We,
nevertheless, distinctly declare that we regard the history of the
resurrection of Lazarus, not only as in the highest degree improbable
in itself, but also destitute of external evidence; and this whole
chapter, in connexion with those previously examined, as an indication
of the unauthenticity of the fourth gospel.

If it is thus proved that all the three evangelical histories of
resuscitations are rendered more or less doubtful by negative reasons:
all that is now wanting to us is positive proof, that the tradition of
Jesus having raised the dead might easily be formed without historical
foundation. According to rabbinical, [1418] as well as New Testament
passages (e.g. John v. 28 f., vi. 40, 44; 1 Cor. xv.; 1 Thess. iv. 16),
the resuscitation of the dead was expected of the Messiah at his
coming. Now the παρουσία, the appearance of the Messiah Jesus on earth,
was in the view of the early church broken by his death into two parts;
the first comprised his preparatory appearance, which began with his
human birth, and ended with the resurrection and ascension; the second
was to commence with his future advent on the clouds of heaven, in
order to open the αἰὼν μέλλων, the age to come. As the first appearance
of Jesus had wanted the glory and majesty expected in the Messiah, the
great demonstrations of messianic power, and in particular the general
resurrection of the dead, were assigned to his second, and as yet
future appearance on earth. Nevertheless, as an immediate pledge of
what was to be anticipated, even in the first advent some
fore-splendours of the second must have been visible in single
instances; Jesus must, even in his first advent, by awaking some of the
dead, have guaranteed his authority one day to awake all the dead; he
must, when questioned as to his messiahship, have been able to adduce
among other criteria the fact that the dead were raised up by him
(Matt. xi. 5), and he must have imparted the same power to his
disciples (Matt. xi. 8, comp. Acts ix. 40, xx. 10); but especially as a
close prefiguration of the hour in which all that are in their graves
shall hear his voice, and shall come forth (John v. 28 f.), he must
have cried with a loud voice, Come forth! to one who had lain in the
grave four days (John xi. 17, 43). For the origination of detailed
narratives of single resuscitations, there lay, besides, the most
appropriate types in the Old Testament. The prophets Elijah and Elisha
(1 Kings xvii. 17 ff.; 2 Kings iv. 18 ff.) had awaked the dead, and to
these instances Jewish writings appealed as a type of the messianic
time. [1419] The object of the resuscitation was with both these
prophets a child, but a boy, while in the narrative common to the
synoptists we have a girl; the two prophets revived him while he lay on
the bed, as Jesus does the daughter of Jairus; both entered alone into
the chamber of death, as Jesus excludes all save a few confidential
friends; only, as it is fitting, the Messiah needs not the laborious
manipulations by which the prophets attained their object. Elijah in
particular raised the son of a widow, as Jesus did at Nain; he met the
widow of Zarephath at the gate (but before the death of her son) as
Jesus met the widow of Nain, under the gate of the city (after the
death of her son); lastly, it is in both instances told in the same
words how the miracle-worker restored the son to the mother. [1420]
Even one already laid in his grave, like Lazarus, was restored to life
by the prophet Elisha; with this difference, however, that the prophet
himself had been long dead, and the contact of his bones reanimated a
corpse which was accidentally thrown upon them (2 Kings xiii. 21).
There is yet another point of similarity between the resuscitations of
the dead in the Old Testament and that of Lazarus; it is that Jesus,
while in his former resuscitation he utters the authoritative word
without any preliminary, in that of Lazarus offers a prayer to God, as
Elisha, and more particularly Elijah, are said to have done. While
Paulus extends to these narratives in the Old Testament, the natural
explanation which he has applied to those in the New, theologians of
more enlarged views have long ago remarked, that the resurrections in
the New Testament are nothing more than mythi, which had their origin
in the tendency of the early Christian church, to make her Messiah
agree with the type of the prophets, and with the messianic ideal.
[1421]

§ 101.

ANECDOTES HAVING RELATION TO THE SEA.

As in general, at least according to the representations of the three
first Evangelists the country around the Galilean sea was the chief
theatre of the ministry of Jesus; so a considerable number of his
miracles have an immediate reference to the sea. One of this class, the
miraculous draught of fishes granted to Peter, has already presented
itself for our consideration; besides this, there are the miraculous
stilling of the storm which had arisen on the sea while Jesus slept, in
the three synoptists; Matthew, Mark, and John; the summary of most of
those, the walking of Jesus on the sea, likewise during a storm, in
incidents which the appendix to the fourth gospel places after the
resurrection; and lastly, the anecdote of the coin that was to be
angled for by Peter, in Matthew.

The first-named narrative (Matt. viii. 23 ff. parall.) is intended,
according to the Evangelist’s own words, to represent Jesus to us as
him whom the winds and the sea obey, οἱ ἄνεμοι καὶ ἡ θάλασσα
ὑπακούουσιν. Thus, to follow out the gradation in the miraculous which
has been hitherto observed, it is here presupposed, not merely that
Jesus could act on the human mind and living body in a psychological
and magnetic manner; or with a revivifying power on the human organism
when it was forsaken by vitality; nay, not merely as in the history of
the draught of fishes earlier examined, that he could act immediately
with determinative power, on irrational yet animated existences, but
that he could act thus even on inanimate nature. The possibility of
finding a point of union between the alleged supernatural agency of
Jesus, and the natural order of phenomena, here absolutely ceases:
here, at the latest, there is an end to miracles in the wider and now
more favoured sense; and we come to those which must be taken in the
narrowest sense, or to the miracle proper. The purely supranaturalistic
view is therefore the first to suggest itself. Olshausen has justly
felt, that such a power over external nature is not essentially
connected with the destination of Jesus for the human race and for the
salvation of man; whence he was led to place the natural phenomenon
which is here controlled by Jesus in a relation to sin, and therefore
to the office of Jesus. Storms, he says, are the spasms and convulsions
of nature, and as such the consequences of sin, the fearful effects of
which are seen even on the physical side of existence. [1422] But it is
only that limited observation of nature which in noting the particular
forgets the general, that can regard storms, tempests, and similar
phenomena (which in connexion with the whole have their necessary place
and beneficial influence) as evils and departure from original law: and
a theory of the world in which it is seriously upheld, that before the
fall there were no storms and tempests, as, on the other hand, no
beasts of prey and poisonous plants, partakes—one does not know whether
to say, of the fanatical, or of the childish. But to what purpose, if
the above explanation will not hold, could Jesus be gifted with such a
power over nature? As a means of awakening faith in him, it was
inadequate and superfluous: because Jesus found individual adherents
without any demonstration of a power of this kind, and general
acceptance even this did not procure him. As little can it be regarded
as a type of the original dominion of man over external nature, a
dominion which he is destined to reattain; for the value of this
dominion consists precisely in this, that it is a mediate one, achieved
by the progressive reflection and the united efforts of ages, not an
immediate and magical dominion, which costs no more than a word. Hence
in relation to that part of nature of which we are here speaking the
compass and the steam-vessel are an incomparably truer realization of
man’s dominion over the ocean, than the allaying of the waves by a mere
word. But the subject has another aspect, since the dominion of man
over nature is not merely external and practical, but also immanent or
theoretical, that is, man even when externally he is subjected to the
might of the elements, yet is not internally conquered by them; but, in
the conviction that the powers of physical nature can only destroy in
him that which belongs to his physical existence, is elevated in the
self-certainty of the spirit above the possible destruction of the
body. This spiritual power, it is said, was exhibited by Jesus, for he
slept tranquilly in the midst of the storm, and when awaked by his
trembling disciples, inspired them with courage by his words. But for
courage to be shown, real danger must be apprehended: now for Jesus,
supposing him to be conscious of an immediate power over nature, danger
could in no degree exist: therefore he could not here give any proof of
this theoretical power.

In both respects the natural explanation would find only the
conceivable and the desirable attributed to Jesus in the evangelical
narrative; namely, on the one hand, an intelligent observation of the
state of the weather, and on the other, exalted courage in the presence
of real peril. When we read that Jesus commanded the winds ἐπιτιμᾷν
τοῖς ἀνέμοις, we are to understand simply that he made some remark on
the storm, or some exclamations at its violence: and his calming of the
sea we are to regard only as a prognostication, founded on the
observation of certain signs, that the storm would soon subside. His
address to the disciples is said to have proceeded, like the celebrated
saying of Cæsar, from the confidence that a man who was to leave an
impress on the world’s history, could not so lightly be cut short in
his career by an accident. That those who were in the ship regarded the
subsidence of the storm as the effect of the words of Jesus, proves
nothing, for Jesus nowhere confirms their inference. [1423] But neither
does he disapprove it, although he must have observed the impression
which, in consequence of that inference, the result had made on the
people; [1424] he must therefore, as Venturini actually supposes, have
designedly refrained from shaking their high opinion of his miraculous
power, in order to attach them to him the more firmly. But, setting
this altogether aside, was it likely that the natural presages of the
storm should have been better understood by Jesus, who had never been
occupied on the sea, than by Peter, James, and John, who had been at
home on it from their youth upwards? [1425]

It remains then that, taking the incident as it is narrated by the
Evangelists, we must regard it as a miracle; but to raise this from an
exegetical result to a real fact, is, according to the above remarks
extremely difficult: whence there arises a suspicion against the
historical character of the narrative. Viewed more nearly however, and
taking Matthew’s account as the basis, there is nothing to object to
the narrative until the middle of v. 26. It might really have happened
that Jesus in one of his frequent passages across the Galilean sea, was
sleeping when a storm arose; that the disciples awaked him with alarm,
while he, calm and self-possessed, said to them, Why are ye fearful, O
ye of little faith? What follows—the commanding of the waves, which
Mark, with his well-known fondness for such authoritative words,
reproduces as if he were giving the exact words of Jesus in a Greek
translation (σιώπα, πεφίμωσο!)—might have been added in the propagation
of the anecdote from one to another. There was an inducement to
attribute to Jesus such a command over the winds and the sea, not only
in the opinion entertained of his person, but also in certain features
of the Old Testament history. Here, in poetical descriptions of the
passage of the Israelites through the Red Sea, Jehovah is designated as
he who rebuked the Red Sea, ἐπετίμησε τῇ ἐρυθρᾷ θαλάσσῇ (Psa. cvi. 9;
LXX. comp. Nahum i. 4), so that it retreated. Now, as the instrument in
this partition of the Red Sea was Moses, it was natural to ascribe to
his great successor, the Messiah, a similar function; accordingly we
actually find from rabbinical passages, that a drying up of the sea was
expected to be wrought by God in the messianic times, doubtless through
the agency of the Messiah, as formerly through that of Moses. [1426]
That instead of drying up the sea Jesus is said only to produce a calm,
may be explained, on the supposition that the storm and the composure
exhibited by Jesus on the occasion were historical, as a consequence of
the mythical having combined itself with this historical element; for,
as according to this, Jesus and his disciples were on board a ship, a
drying up of the sea would have been out of place.

Still it is altogether without any sure precedent, that a mythical
addition should be engrafted on the stem of a real incident, so as to
leave the latter totally unmodified. And there is one feature, even in
the part hitherto assumed to be historical, which, more narrowly
examined, might just as probably have been invented by the legend as
have really happened. That Jesus, before the storm breaks out, is
sleeping, and even when it arises, does not immediately awake, is not
his voluntary deed, but chance; [1427] it is this very chance, however,
which alone gives the scene its full significance, for Jesus sleeping
in the storm is by the contrast which he presents, a not less
emblematical image than Ulysses sleeping when, after so many storms, he
was about to land on his island home. Now that Jesus really slept at
the time that a storm broke out, may indeed have happened by chance in
one case out of ten; but in the nine cases also, when this did not
happen, and Jesus only showed himself calm and courageous during the
storm, I am inclined to think that the legend would so far have
understood her interest, that, as she had represented the contrast of
the tranquillity of Jesus with the raging of the elements to the
intellect, by means of the words of Jesus, so she would depict it for
the imagination, by means of the image of Jesus sleeping in the ship
(or as Mark has it, [1428] on a pillow in the hinder part of the ship).
If then that which may possibly have happened in a single case, must
certainly have been invented by the legend in nine cases; the expositor
must in reason prepare himself for the undeniable possibility, that we
have before us one of the nine cases, instead of that single case.
[1429] If then it be granted that nothing further remains as an
historical foundation for our narrative, than that Jesus exhorted his
disciples to show the firm courage of faith in opposition to the raging
waves of the sea, it is certainly possible that he may once have done
this in a storm at sea; but just as he said: if ye have faith as a
grain of mustard seed, ye may say to this mountain, Be thou removed,
and cast into the sea (Matt. xxi. 21), or to this tree, Be thou plucked
up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea (Luke xvii. 6), and both
shall be done (καὶ ὑπήκουσεν ἂν ὑμῖν, Luke): so he might, not merely on
the sea, but in any situation, make use of the figure, that to him who
has faith, winds and waves shall be obedient at a word (ὅτι καὶ τοῖς
ἀνέμοις ἐπιτάσσει καὶ τῷ ὕδατι, καὶ ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ, Luke). If we now
take into account what even Olshausen remarks, and Schneckenburger has
shown, [1430] that the contest of the kingdom of God with the world was
in the early times of Christianity commonly compared to a voyage
through a stormy ocean; we see at once, how easily legend might come to
frame such a narrative as the above, on the suggestions afforded by the
parallel between the Messiah and Moses, the expressions of Jesus, and
the conception of him as the pilot who steers the little vessel of the
kingdom of God through the tumultuous waves of the world. Setting this
aside, however, and viewing the matter only generally, in relation to
the idea of a miracle-worker, we find a similar power over storms and
tempests, ascribed, for example, to Pythagoras. [1431]

We have a more complicated anecdote connected with the sea, wanting in
Luke, but contained in John vi. 16 ff., as well as in Matt. xiv. 22
ff., and Mark vi. 45 ff., where a storm overtakes the disciples when
sailing by night, and Jesus appears to their rescue, walking towards
them on the sea. Here, again, the storm subsides in a marvellous manner
on the entrance of Jesus into the ship; but the peculiar difficulty of
the narrative lies in this, that the body of Jesus appears so entirely
exempt from a law which governs all other human bodies without
exception, namely, the law of gravitation, that he not only does not
sink under the water, but does not even dip into it; on the contrary,
he walks erect on the waves as on firm land. If we are to represent
this to ourselves, we must in some way or other, conceive the body of
Jesus as an ethereal phantom, according to the opinion of the Docetæ; a
conception which the Fathers of the Church condemned as irreligious,
and which we must reject as extravagant. Olshausen indeed says, that in
a superior corporeality, impregnated with the powers of a higher world,
such an appearance need not create surprise: [1432] but these are words
to which we can attach no definite idea. If the spiritual activity of
Jesus which refined and perfected his corporeal nature, instead of
being conceived as that which more and more completely emancipated his
body from the psychical laws of passion and sensuality, is understood
as if by its means the body was exempted from the physical law of
gravity:—this is a materialism of which, as in a former case, it is
difficult to decide whether it be more fantastical or childish. If
Jesus did not sink in the water, he must have been a spectre, and the
disciples in our narrative would not have been wrong in taking him for
one. We must also recollect that on his baptism in the river Jordan,
Jesus did not exhibit this property, but was submerged like an ordinary
man. Now had he at that time also the power of sustaining himself on
the surface of the water, and only refrained from using it? and did he
thus increase or reduce his specific gravity by an act of his will? or
are we to suppose, as Olshausen would perhaps say, that at the time of
his baptism he had not attained so far in the process of subtilizing
his body, as to be freely borne up by the water, and that he only
reached this point at a later period? These are questions which
Olshausen justly calls absurd: nevertheless they serve to open a
glimpse into the abyss of absurdities in which we are involved by the
supranaturalistic interpretation, and particularly by that which this
theologian gives of the narrative before us.

To avoid these, the natural explanation has tried many expedients. The
boldest is that of Paulus, who maintains that the text does not state
that Jesus walked on the water; and that the miracle in this passage is
nothing but a philological mistake, since περιπατεῖν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης
is analogous to the expression στρατοπεδεύειν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης, Exod.
xiv. 2, and signifies to walk, as the other to encamp, over the sea,
that is, on the elevated sea-shore. [1433] According to the meaning of
the words taken separately, this explanation is possible: its real
applicability in this particular instance, however, must be determined
by the context. Now this represents the disciples as having rowed
twenty-five or thirty furlongs (John), or as being in the midst of the
sea (Matthew and Mark), and then it is said that Jesus came towards the
ship, and so near that he could speak to them, περιπατῶν ἐπὶ τῆς
θαλάσσης. How could he do this if he remained on the shore? To obviate
this objection, Paulus conjectures that the disciples in that stormy
night probably only skirted the shore; but the words ἐν μέσῳ τῆς
θαλάσσης, in the midst of the sea, though not, we grant, to be
construed with mathematical strictness, yet, even taken according to
the popular mode of speaking, are too decidedly opposed to such a
supposition for it to be worth our further consideration. But this mode
of interpretation encounters a fatal blow in the passage where Matthew
says of Peter, that having come down out of the ship he walked on the
water, καταβὰς ἀπὸ τοῦ πλοίου περιεπάτησεν ἐπὶ τὰ ὕδατα (v. 29); for as
it is said shortly after that Peter began to sink (καταποντίζεσθαι),
walking merely on the shore cannot have been intended here; and if not
here, neither can it have been intended in the former instance relating
to Jesus, the expressions being substantially the same. [1434]

But if Peter, in his attempt to walk upon the waters, περιπατεῖν ἐπὶ τὰ
ὕδατα, began to sink, may we not still suppose that both he and Jesus
merely swam in the sea, or waded through its shallows? Both these
suppositions have actually been advanced. [1435] But the act of wading
must have been expressed by περιπατεῖν διὰ τῆς θαλάσσης, and had that
of swimming been intended, one or other of the parallel passages would
certainly have substituted the precise expression for the ambiguous
one: besides, it must be alike impossible either to swim from
twenty-five to thirty furlongs in a storm, or to wade to about the
middle of the sea, which certainly was beyond the shallows; a swimmer
could not easily be taken for a spectre; and, lastly, the prayer of
Peter for special permission to imitate Jesus, and his failure in it
from want of faith, point to something supernatural. [1436]

The reasoning on which the natural mode of interpretation rests here,
as elsewhere, has been enunciated by Paulus in connexion with this
passage in a form which reveals its fundamental error in a particularly
happy manner. The question, he says, in such cases is always this:
which is more probable, that the evangelical writer should use an
expression not perfectly exact, or that there should be a departure
from the course of nature? It is evident that the dilemma is falsely
stated, and should rather be put thus: Is it more probable that the
author should express himself inaccurately (rather, in direct
contradiction to the supposed sense), or that he should mean to narrate
a departure from the course of nature? For only what he means to
narrate is the immediate point of inquiry; what really happened is,
even according to the distinction of the judgment of a writer from the
fact that he states, on which Paulus everlastingly insists, an
altogether different question. Because according to our views a
departure from the course of nature cannot have taken place, it by no
means follows, that a writer belonging to the primitive age of
Christianity could not have credited and narrated such a case; [1437]
and therefore to abolish the miraculous, we must not explain it away
from the narrative, but rather inquire whether the narrative itself,
either in whole or in part, must not be excluded from the domain of
history. In relation to this inquiry, first of all, each of our three
accounts has peculiar features which in an historical light are
suspicious.

The most striking of these features is found in Mark v. 48, where he
says of Jesus that he came walking on the sea towards the disciples,
and would have passed by them, καὶ ἤθελε παρελθεῖν αὐτούς, but that he
was constrained by their anxious cries to take notice of them. With
justice Fritzsche interprets Mark’s meaning to be, that it was the
intention of Jesus, supported by divine power, to walk across the whole
sea as on firm land. But with equal justice Paulus asks, Could anything
have been more useless and extravagant than to perform so singular a
miracle without any eye to witness it? We must not however on this
account, with the latter theologian, interpret the words of Mark as
implying a natural event, namely, that Jesus, being on the land, was
going to pass by the disciples who were sailing in a ship not far from
the shore, for the miraculous interpretation of the passage is
perfectly accordant with the spirit of our Evangelist. Not contented
with the representation of his informant, that Jesus, on this one
occasion, adopted this extraordinary mode of progress with special
reference to his disciples, he aims by the above addition to convey the
idea of walking on the water being so natural and customary with Jesus,
that without any regard to the disciples, whenever a sheet of water lay
in his road, he walked across it as unconcernedly as if it had been dry
land. But such a mode of procedure, if habitual with Jesus, would
presuppose most decidedly a subtilization of his body such as Olshausen
supposes; it would therefore presuppose what is inconceivable. Hence
this particular of Mark’s presents itself as one of the most striking
among those by which the second Evangelist now and then approaches to
the exaggerations of the apocryphal gospels. [1438]

In Matthew, the miracle is in a different manner, not so much
heightened as complicated; for there, not only Jesus, but Peter also
makes an experiment in walking on the sea, not indeed altogether
successful. This trait is rendered suspicious by its intrinsic
character, as well as by the silence of the two other narrators.
Immediately on the word of Jesus, and in virtue of the faith which he
has in the beginning, Peter actually succeeds in walking on the water
for some time, and only when he is assailed by fear and doubt does he
begin to sink. What are we to think of this? Admitting that Jesus, by
means of his etherealized body, could walk on the water, how could he
command Peter, who was not gifted with such a body, to do the same? or
if by a mere word he could give the body of Peter a dispensation from
the law of gravitation, can he have been a man? and if a God, would he
thus lightly cause a suspension of natural laws at the caprice of a
man? or, lastly, are we to suppose that faith has the power
instantaneously to lessen the specific gravity of the body of a
believer? Faith is certainly said to have such a power in the
figurative discourse of Jesus just referred to, according to which the
believer is able to remove mountains and trees into the sea,—and why
not also himself to walk on the sea? The moral that as soon as faith
falters, power ceases, could not be so aptly presented by either of the
two former figures as by the latter, in the following form: as long as
a man has faith he is able to walk unharmed on the unstable sea, but no
sooner does he give way to doubt than he sinks, unless Christ extend to
him a helping hand. The fundamental thought, then, of Matthew’s
episodical narrative is, that Peter was too confident in the firmness
of his faith, that by its sudden failure he incurred great danger, but
was rescued by Jesus; a thought which is actually expressed in Luke
xxii. 31 f., where Jesus says to Simon: Satan hath desired to have you
that he may sift you as wheat; but I have prayed for thee that thy
faith fail not. These words of Jesus have reference to Peter’s coming
denial; this was the occasion when his faith, on the strength of which
he had just before offered to go with Jesus to prison and to death,
would have wavered, had not the Lord by his intercession, procured him
new strength. If we add to this the above-mentioned habit of the early
Christians to represent the persecuting world under the image of a
turbulent sea, we cannot fail, with one of the latest critics, to
perceive in the description of Peter courageously volunteering to walk
on the sea, soon, however, sinking from faintheartedness, but borne up
by Jesus, an allegorical and mythical representation of that trial of
faith which this disciple who imagined himself so strong, met so
weakly, and which higher assistance alone enabled him to surmount.
[1439]

But the account of the fourth gospel also is not wanting in peculiar
features, which betray an unhistorical character. It has ever been a
cross to harmonists, that while according to Matthew and Mark, the ship
was only in the middle of the sea when Jesus reached it: according to
John, it immediately after arrived at the opposite shore; that while,
according to the former, Jesus actually entered into the ship, and the
storm thereupon subsided: according to John, on the contrary, the
disciples did indeed wish to take him into the ship, but their actually
doing so was rendered superfluous by their immediate arrival at the
place of disembarkation. It is true that here also abundant methods of
reconciliation have been found. First, the word ἔθελον, they wished,
added to λαβεῖν, to receive, is said to be a mere redundancy of
expression; then, to signify simply the joyfulness of the reception, as
if it had been said, ἐθέλοντες ἔλαβον; then, to describe the first
impression which the recognition of Jesus made on the disciples, his
reception into the ship, which really followed, not being mentioned.
[1440] But the sole reason for such an interpretation lies in the
unauthorized comparison with the synoptical accounts: in the narrative
of John, taken separately, there is no ground for it, nay, it is
excluded. For the succeeding sentence: εὐθέως τὸ πλοῖον ἐγένετο ἐπὶ τῆς
γῆς, εἰς ὑπῆγον, immediately the ship was at the land whither they
went, though it is united, not by δὲ but by καὶ, can nevertheless only
be taken antithetically, in the sense that the reception of Jesus into
the ship, notwithstanding the readiness of the disciples, did not
really take place, because they were already at the shore. In
consideration of this difference, Chrysostom held that there were two
occasions on which Jesus walked on the sea. He says that on the second
occasion, which John narrates, Jesus did not enter into the ship, in
order that the miracle might be greater ἵνα τὸ θᾶυμα μεῖζον ἐργάσηται.
[1441] This view we may transfer to the Evangelist, and say: if Mark
has aggrandized the miracle, by implying that Jesus intended to walk
past the disciples across the entire sea; so John goes yet farther, for
he makes him actually accomplish this design, and without being taken
into the ship, arrive at the opposite shore. [1442] Not only, however,
does the fourth Evangelist seek to aggrandize the miracle before us,
but also to establish and authenticate it more securely. According to
the synoptists, the sole witnesses were the disciples, who saw Jesus
come towards them, walking on the sea: John adds to these few immediate
witnesses, a multitude of mediate ones, namely, the people who were
assembled when Jesus performed the miracle of the loaves and fishes.
These, when on the following morning they no longer find Jesus on the
same spot, make the calculation, that Jesus cannot have crossed the sea
by ship, for he did not get into the same boat with the disciples, and
no other boat was there (v. 22); while, that he did not go by land, is
involved in the circumstance that the people when they have forthwith
crossed the sea, find him on the opposite shore (v. 25), whither he
could hardly have arrived by land in the short interval. Thus in the
narrative of the fourth gospel, as all natural means of passage are cut
off from Jesus, there remains for him only a supernatural one, and this
consequence is in fact inferred by the multitude in the astonished
question which they put to Jesus, when they find him on the opposite
shore: Rabbi, when camest thou hither? As this chain of evidence for
the miraculous passage of Jesus depends on the rapid transportation of
the multitude, the Evangelist hastens to procure other boats ἄλλα
πλοιάρια for their service (v. 23). Now the multitude who take ship (v.
22, 26 ff.) are described as the same whom Jesus had miraculously fed,
and these amounted (according to v. 10) to about 5000. If only a fifth,
nay, a tenth of these passed over, there needed for this, as the author
of the Probabilia has justly observed, a whole fleet of ships,
especially if they were fishing boats; but even if we suppose them
vessels of freight, these would not all have been bound for Capernaum,
or have changed their destination for the sake of accommodating the
crowd. This passage of the multitude, therefore, appears only to have
been invented, [1443] on the one hand, to confirm by their evidence the
walking of Jesus on the sea; on the other, as we shall presently see,
to gain an opportunity for making Jesus, who according to the tradition
had gone over to the opposite shore immediately after the
multiplication of the loaves, speak yet further with the multitude on
the subject of this miracle.

After pruning away these offshoots of the miraculous which are peculiar
to the respective narratives, the main stem is still left, namely, the
miracle of Jesus walking on the sea for a considerable distance, with
all its attendant improbabilities as above exposed. But the solution of
these accessory particulars, as it led us to discover the causes of
their unhistorical origin, has facilitated the discovery of such causes
for the main narrative, and has thereby rendered possible the solution
of this also. We have seen, by an example already adduced, that it was
usual with the Hebrews and early Christians, to represent the power of
God over nature, a power which the human spirit when united to him was
supposed to share, under the image of supremacy over the raging waves
of the sea. In the narrative of the Exodus this supremacy is manifested
by the sea being driven out of its place at a sign, so that a dry path
is opened to the people of God in its bed; in the New Testament
narrative previously considered, the sea is not removed out of its
place, but only so far laid to rest that Jesus and his disciples can
cross it in safety in their ship: in the anecdote before us, the sea
still remains in its place as in the second, but there is this point of
similarity to the first, that the passage is made on foot, not by ship,
yet as a necessary consequence of the other particular, on the surface
of the sea, not in its bed. Still more immediate inducements to develop
in such a manner the conception of the power of the miracle-worker over
the waves, may be found both in the Old Testament, and in the opinions
prevalent in the time of Jesus. Among the miracles of Elisha, it is not
only told that he divided the Jordan by a stroke of his mantle, so that
he could go through it dry shod (2 Kings ii. 14), but also that he
caused a piece of iron which had fallen into the water to swim (2 Kings
vi. 6); an ascendancy over the law of gravitation which it would be
imagined the miracle-worker might be able to evince in relation to his
own body also, and thus to exhibit himself, as it is said of Jehovah,
Job ix. 8, LXX., περιπατῶν ὡς ἐπ’ ἐδάφους ἐπὶ θαλάσσης, walking upon
the sea as upon a pavement. In the time of Jesus much was told of
miracle-workers who could walk on the water. Apart from conceptions
exclusively Grecian, [1444] the Greco-oriental legend feigned that the
hyperborean Abaris possessed an arrow, by means of which he could bear
himself up in the air, and thus traverse rivers, seas, and abysses,
[1445] and popular superstition attributed to many wonder-workers the
power of walking on water. [1446] Hence the possibility that with all
these elements and inducements existing, a similar legend should be
formed concerning Jesus, appears incomparably stronger, than that a
real event of this kind should have occurred:—and with this conclusion
we may dismiss the subject.

The manifestation φανέρωσις of Jesus at the sea of Tiberias ἐπὶ τῆς
θαλάσσης τῆς Τιβεριάδος narrated John xxi. has so striking a
resemblance to the sea anecdotes hitherto considered, that although the
fourth gospel places it in the period after the resurrection, we are
induced, as in an earlier instance we brought part of it under notice
in connexion with the narrative of Peter’s draught of fishes, so here
to institute a comparison between its other features, and the narrative
of Jesus walking on the sea. In both cases, Jesus is perceived by the
disciples in the twilight of early morning; only in the latter instance
he does not, as in the former, walk on the sea, but stands on the
shore, and the disciples are in consternation, not because of a storm,
but because of the fruitlessness of their fishing. In both instances
they are afraid of him; in the one, they take him for a spectre, in the
other, not one of them ventures to ask him who he is, knowing that it
is the Lord. But especially the scene with Peter, peculiar to the first
gospel, has its corresponding one in the present passage. As, there,
when Jesus walking on the sea makes himself known to his disciples,
Peter entreats permission to go to him on the water: so here, as soon
as Jesus is recognized standing on the shore, Peter throws himself into
the water that he may reach him the shortest way by swimming. Thus,
that which in the earlier narrative was the miraculous act of walking
on the sea, becomes in the one before us, in relation to Jesus, the
simple act of standing on the shore, in relation to Peter, the natural
act of swimming; so that the latter history sounds almost like a
rationalistic paraphrase of the former: and there have not been wanting
those who have maintained that at least the anecdote about Peter in the
first gospel, is a traditional transformation of the incident in John
xxi. 7 into a miracle. [1447] Modern criticism is restrained from
extending this conjecture to the anecdote of Jesus walking on the sea,
by the fact that the supposed apostolic fourth gospel itself has this
feature in the earlier narrative (vi. 16 ff.). But from our point of
view it appears quite possible, that the history in question either
came to the author of this gospel in the one form, and to the author of
the appendix in the other; or that it came to the one author of both in
a double form, and was inserted by him in separate parts of his
narrative. Meanwhile, if the two histories are to be compared, we ought
not at once to assume that the one, John xxi., is the original, the
other, Matt. xiv. parall., the secondary; we must first ask which of
the two bears intrinsic marks of one or the other character. Now
certainly if we adhere to the rule that the more miraculous narrative
is the later, that in John xxi. appears, in relation to the manner in
which Jesus approaches the disciples, and in which Peter reaches Jesus,
to be the original. But this rule is connected in the closest manner
with another; namely, that the more simple narrative is the earlier,
the more complex one the later, as the conglomerate is a later
formation than the homogeneous stone; and according to this rule, the
conclusion is reversed, and the narrative in John xxi. is the more
traditional, for in it the particulars mentioned above are interwoven
with the miraculous draught of fishes, while in the earlier narrative
they form in themselves an independent whole. It is indeed true, that a
greater whole may be broken up into smaller parts; but such fragments
have not at all the appearance of the separate narratives of the
draught of fishes and the walking on the sea, since these, on the
contrary, leave the impression of being each a finished whole. From
this interweaving with the miracle of the draught of fishes,—to which
we must add the circumstance that the entire circle of events turns
upon the risen Jesus, who is already in himself a miracle,—it is
apparent how, contrary to the general rule, the oft-named particulars
could lose their miraculous character, since by their combination with
other miracles they were reduced to mere accessories, to a sort of
natural scaffolding. If then the narrative in John xxi. is entirely
secondary, its historical value has already been estimated with that of
the narratives which furnished its materials.

If, before we proceed further, we take a retrospect of the series of
sea-anecdotes hitherto examined, we find, it is true, that the two
extreme anecdotes are altogether dissimilar, the one relating mainly to
fishing, the other to a storm; nevertheless, on a proper arrangement,
each of them appears to be connected with the preceding by a common
feature. The narrative of the call of the fishers of men (Matt. iv. 18
ff. par.) opens the series; that of Peter’s draught of fishes (Luke v.
1 ff.) has in common with this the saying about the fishers of men, but
the fact of the draught of fishes is peculiar to it; this fact
reappears in John xxi., where the circumstances of Jesus standing on
the shore in the morning twilight, and the swimming of Peter towards
him, are added; these two circumstances are in Matt. xiv. 22 ff.
parall. metamorphosed into the act of walking on the sea on the part of
Jesus and of Peter, and at the same time a storm, and its cessation on
the entrance of Jesus into the ship, are introduced; lastly, in Matt.
viii. 23 ff. parall., we have an anecdote single in its kind, namely,
that of the stilling of the storm by Jesus.

We come to a history for which a place is less readily found in the
foregoing series, in Matt. xvii. 24 ff. It is true that here again
there is a direction of Jesus to Peter to go and fish, to which,
although it is not expressly stated, we must suppose that the issue
corresponded: but first, it is only one fish which is to be caught, and
with an angle; and secondly, the main point is, that in its mouth is to
be found a piece of gold to serve for the payment of the temple tribute
for Jesus and Peter, from the latter of whom this tax had been
demanded. This narrative as it is here presented has peculiar
difficulties, which Paulus well exhibits, and which Olshausen does not
deny. Fritzsche justly remarks, that there are two miraculous
particulars presupposed: first, that the fish had a coin in its mouth;
secondly, that Jesus had a foreknowledge of this. On the one hand, we
must regard the former of these particulars as extravagant, and
consequently the latter also; and on the other, the whole miracle
appears to have been unnecessary. Certainly, that metals and other
valuables have been found in the bodies of fish is elsewhere narrated,
[1448] and is not incredible; but that a fish should have a piece of
money in its mouth, and keep it there while it snapped at the bait—this
even Dr. Schnappinger [1449] found inconceivable. Moreover, the motive
of Jesus for performing such a miracle could not be want of money, for
even if at that time there was no store in the common fund, still Jesus
was in Capernaum, where he had many friends, and where consequently he
could have obtained the needful money in a natural way. To exclude this
possibility, we must with Olshausen confound borrowing with begging,
and regard it as inconsistent with the decorum divinum which must have
been observed by Jesus. Nor after so many proofs of his miraculous
power, could Jesus think this additional miracle necessary to
strengthen Peter’s belief in his messiahship.

Hence we need not wonder that rationalistic commentators have attempted
to free themselves at any cost from a miracle which even Olshausen
pronounces to be the most difficult in the evangelical history, and we
have only to see how they proceed in this undertaking. The pith of the
natural explanation of the fact lies in the interpretation of the word
εὑρήσεις, thou shalt find, in the command of Jesus, not of an immediate
discovery of a stater in the fish, but of a mediate acquisition of this
sum by selling what was caught. [1450] It must be admitted that the
above word may bear this signification also; but if we are to give it
this sense instead of the usual one, we must in the particular instance
have a clear intimation to this effect in the context. Thus, if it were
said in the present passage: Take the first fine fish, carry it to the
market, κἀκεῖ εὑρήσεις στατῆρα, and there thou shall find a stater,
this explanation would be in place; as however instead of this, the
word εὑρήσεις is preceded by ἀνοίξας τὸ στόμα αὐτοῦ, when thou hast
opened his mouth,—as, therefore, no place of sale, but a place inside
the fish, is mentioned, as that on the opening of which the coin is to
be obtained,—we can only understand an immediate discovery of the piece
of money in this part of the fish. [1451] Besides, to what purpose
would the opening of the fish’s mouth be mentioned, unless the
desideratum were to be found there? Paulus sees in this only the
injunction to release the fish from the hook without delay, in order to
keep it alive, and thus to render it more saleable. The order to open
the mouth of the fish might indeed, if it stood alone, be supposed to
have the extraction of the hook as its object and consequence; but as
it is followed by εὑρήσεις στατῆρα, thou shalt find a stater, it is
plain that this is the immediate end of opening the mouth. The
perception that, so long as the opening of the fish’s mouth is spoken
of in this passage, it will be inferred that the coin was to be found
there, has induced the rationalistic commentators to try whether they
could not refer the word στόμα, mouth, to another subject than the
fish, and no other remained than the fisher, Peter. But as στόμα
appeared to be connected with the fish by the word αὐτοῦ, which
immediately followed it, Dr. Paulus, moderating or exaggerating the
suggestion of a friend, who proposed to read ἀνθευρήσεις instead
of—αὐτοῦ, εὑρήσεις—allowed αὐτοῦ to remain, but took it adverbially,
and translated the passage thus: thou hast then only to open thy mouth
to offer the fish for sale, and thou wilt on the spot (αὐτοῦ) receive a
stater as its price. But, it would still be asked, how could a single
fish fetch so high a price in Capernaum, where fish were so abundant?
Hence Paulus understands the words, τὸν ἀναβάντα πρῶτον ἰχθὺν ἆρον,
take up the fish that first cometh up, collectively thus: continue time
after time to take the fish that first comes to thee, until thou hast
caught as many as will be worth a stater.

If the series of strained interpretations which are necessary to a
natural explanation of this narrative throw us back on that which
allows it to contain a miracle; and if this miracle appear to us,
according to our former decision, both extravagant and useless, nothing
remains but to presume that here also there is a legendary element.
This view has been combined with the admission, that a real but natural
fact was probably at the foundation of the legend: namely, that Jesus
once ordered Peter to fish until he had caught enough to procure the
amount of the temple tribute; whence the legend arose that the fish had
the tribute money in its mouth. [1452] But, in our opinion, a more
likely source of this anecdote is to be found in the much-used theme of
a catching of fish by Peter, on the one side, and on the other, the
well-known stories of precious things having been found in the bodies
of fish. Peter, as we learn from Matt. iv., Luke v., John xxi., was the
fisher in the evangelical legend ta whom Jesus in various forms, first
symbolically, and then literally, granted the rich draught of fishes.
The value of the capture appears here in the shape of a piece of money,
which, as similar things are elsewhere said to have been found in the
belly of fishes, is by an exaggeration of the marvel said to be found
in the mouth of the fish. That it is the stater, required for the
temple tribute, might be occasioned by a real declaration of Jesus
concerning his relation to that tax; or conversely, the stater which
was accidentally named in the legend of the fish angled for by Peter,
might bring to recollection the temple tribute, which amounted to that
sum for two persons, and the declaration of Jesus relative to this
subject.

With this tale conclude the sea anecdotes.

§ 102.

THE MIRACULOUS MULTIPLICATION OF THE LOAVES AND FISHES.

As, in the histories last considered, Jesus determined and mitigated
the motions of irrational and even of inanimate existences; so, in the
narratives which we are about to examine, he exhibits the power of
multiplying not only natural objects, but also productions of nature
which had been wrought upon by art.

That Jesus miraculously multiplied prepared articles of food, feeding a
great multitude of men with a few loaves and fishes, is narrated to us
with singular unanimity by all the Evangelists (Matt. xiv. 13 ff.; Mark
vi. 30 ff.; Luke ix. 10 ff.; John vi. 1 ff.). And if we believe the two
first, Jesus did not do this merely once; for in Matt. xv. 32 ff.; Mark
viii. 1 ff. we read of a second multiplication of loaves and fishes,
the circumstances of which are substantially the same as those of the
former. It happens somewhat later; the place is rather differently
described, and the length of time during which the multitude stayed
with Jesus is differently stated; moreover, and this is a point of
greater importance, the proportion between the stock of food and the
number of men is different, for, on the first occasion, five thousand
men are satisfied with five loaves and two fishes, and, on the second,
four thousand with seven loaves and a few fishes; on the first twelve
baskets are filled with the fragments, on the second only seven.
Notwithstanding this, not only is the substance of the two histories
exactly the same—the satisfying of a multitude of people with
disproportionately small means of nourishment; but also the description
of the scene in the one, entirely corresponds in its principal features
to that in the other. In both instances, the locality is a solitary
region in the vicinity of the Galilean sea; Jesus is led to perform the
miracle because the people have lingered too long with him; he
manifests a wish to feed the people from his own stores, which the
disciples regard as impossible; the stock of food at his disposal
consists of loaves and fishes; Jesus makes the people sit down, and,
after giving thanks, distributes the provisions to them through the
medium of the disciples; they are completely satisfied, and yet a
disproportionately great quantity of fragments is afterwards collected
in baskets; lastly, in the one case as in the other, Jesus after thus
feeding the multitude, crosses the sea.

This repetition of the same event creates many difficulties. The chief
of these is suggested by the question: Is it conceivable that the
disciples, after they had themselves witnessed how Jesus was able to
feed a great multitude with a small quantity of provision, should
nevertheless on a second occasion of the same kind, have totally
forgotten the first, and have asked, Whence should we have so much
bread in the wilderness as to feed so great a multitude? To render such
an obliviousness on the part of the disciples probable, we are reminded
that they had, in just as incomprehensible a manner, forgotten the
declarations of Jesus concerning his approaching sufferings and death,
when these events occurred; [1453] but it is equally a pending
question, whether after such plain predictions from Jesus, his death
could in fact have been so unexpected to the disciples. It has been
supposed that a longer interval had elapsed between the two miracles,
and that during this there had occurred a number of similar cases, in
which Jesus did not think fit to afford miraculous assistance: [1454]
but, on the one hand, these are pure fictions; on the other, it would
remain just as inconceivable as ever, that the striking similarity of
the circumstances preceding the second feeding of the multitude to
those preceding the first, should not have reminded even one of the
disciples of that former event Paulus therefore is right in
maintaining, that had Jesus once already fed the multitude by a
miracle, the disciples, on the second occasion, when he expressed his
determination not to send the people away fasting, would confidently
have called upon him for a repetition of the former miracle.

In any case then, if Jesus on two separate occasions fed a multitude
with disproportionately small provision, we must suppose, as some
critics have done, that many features in the narrative of the one
incident were transferred to the other, and thus the two, originally
unlike, became in the course of oral tradition more and more similar;
the incredulous question of the disciples especially having been
uttered only on the first occasion, and not on the second. [1455] It
may seem to speak in favour of such an assimilation, that the fourth
Evangelist, though in his numerical statement he is in accordance with
the first narrative of Matthew and Mark, yet has, in common with the
second, the circumstances that the scene opens with an address of Jesus
and not of the disciples, and that the people come to Jesus on a
mountain. But if the fundamental features be allowed to remain,—the
wilderness, the feeding of the people, the collection of the
fragments,—it is still, even without that question of the disciples,
sufficiently improbable that the scene should have been repeated in so
entirely similar a manner. If, on the contrary, these general features
be renounced in relation to one of the histories, it is no longer
apparent, how the veracity of the evangelical narratives as to the
manner in which the second multiplication of loaves and fishes took
place can be questioned on all points, and yet their statement as to
the fact of its occurrence be maintained as trustworthy, especially as
this statement is confined to Matthew and his imitator Mark.

Hence later critics have, with more [1456] or less [1457] decision,
expressed the opinion, that here one and the same fact has been
doubled, through a mistake of the first Evangelist, who was followed by
the second. They suppose that several narratives of the miraculous
feeding of the multitude were current which presented divergencies from
each other, especially in relation to numbers, and that the author of
the first gospel, to whom every additional history of a miracle was a
welcome prize, and who was therefore little qualified for the critical
reduction of two different narratives of this kind into one, introduced
both into his collection. This fully explains how on the second
occasion the disciples could again express themselves so incredulously:
namely, because in the tradition whence the author of the first gospel
obtained the second history of a miraculous multiplication of loaves
and fishes, it was the first and only one, and the Evangelist did not
obliterate this feature because, apparently, he incorporated the two
narratives into his writing just as he read or heard them. Among other
proofs that this was the case, may be mentioned the constancy with
which he and Mark, who copied him, not only in the account of the
events, but also in the subsequent allusion to them (Matt. xvi. 9 f.;
Mark viii. 19 f.), call the baskets in the first feeding, κόφινοι, in
the second σπυρίδες. [1458] It is indeed correctly maintained, that the
Apostle Matthew could not possibly take one event for two, and relate a
new history which never happened: [1459] but this proposition does not
involve the reality of the second miraculous feeding of the multitude,
unless the apostolic origin of the first gospel be at once presupposed,
whereas this yet remains to be proved. Paulus further objects, that the
duplication of the history in question could be of no advantage
whatever to the design of the Evangelist; and Olshausen, developing
this idea more fully, observes that the legend would not have left the
second narrative as simple and bare as the first. But this argument,
that a narrative cannot be fictitious, because if it were so it would
have been more elaborately adorned, may very properly be at once
dismissed, since its limits being altogether undefined, it might be
repeated under all circumstances, and in the end would prove fable
itself not sufficiently fabulous. But, in this case particularly, it is
totally baseless, because it presupposes the narrative of the first
feeding of the multitude to be historically accurate; now, if we have
already in this a legendary production, the other edition of it,
namely, the second history of a miraculous feeding, needs not to be
distinguished by special traditionary features. But not only is the
second narrative not embellished as regards the miraculous, when
compared with the first; it even diminishes the miracle, for, while
increasing the quantity of provision, it reduces the number of those
whom it satisfied: and this retrogression in the marvellous is thought
the surest proof that the second feeding of the multitude really
occurred; for, it is said, he who chose to invent an additional miracle
of this kind, would have made it surpass the first, and instead of five
thousand men would have given, not four, but ten thousand. [1460] This
argument, also, rests on the unfounded assumption that the first
narrative is of course the historical one; though Olshausen himself has
the idea that the second might with probability be regarded as the
historical basis, and the first as the legendary copy, and then the
fictitious would have the required relation to the true—that of
exaggeration. But when in opposition to this, he observes, how
improbable it is that an unscrupulous narrator would place the
authentic fact, being the less imposing, last, and eclipse it
beforehand by the false one,—that such a writer would rather seek to
outdo the truth, and therefore place his fiction last, as the more
brilliant,—he again shows that he does not comprehend the mythical view
of the biblical narratives, in the degree necessary for forming a
judgment on the subject. For there is no question here of an
unscrupulous narrator, who would designedly surpass the true history of
the miraculous multiplication of the loaves and fishes, and least of
all is Matthew pronounced to be such a narrator: on the contrary, it is
held that with perfect honesty, one account gave five thousand, another
four, and that, with equal honesty, the first Evangelist copied from
both; and for the very reason that he went to work innocently and
undesignedly, it was of no importance to him which of the two histories
stood first and which last, the more important or the less striking
one; but he allowed himself to be determined on this point by
accidental circumstances, such as that he found the one connected with
incidents which appeared to him the earlier, the other with such as he
supposed to be the later. A similar instance of duplication occurs in
the Pentateuch in relation to the histories of the feeding of the
Israelites with quails, and of the production of water out of the rock,
the former of which is narrated both in Exod. xvi. and Num. xi., the
latter in Exod. xvii. and again in Num. xx., in each instance with an
alteration in time, place, and other circumstances. [1461] Meanwhile,
all this yields us only the negative result that the double narratives
of the first gospels cannot have been founded on two separate events.
To determine which of the two is historical, or whether either of them
deserves that epithet, must be the object of a special inquiry.

To evade the pre-eminently magical appearance which this miracle
presents, Olshausen gives it a relation to the moral state of the
participants, and supposes that the miraculous feeding of the multitude
was effected through the intermediation of their spiritual hunger. But
this is ambiguous language, which, on the first attempt to determine
its meaning, vanishes into nothing. For in cures, for example, the
intermediation here appealed to consists in the opening of the
patient’s mind to the influence of Jesus by faith, so that when faith
is wanting, the requisite fulcrum for the miraculous power of Jesus is
also wanting: here therefore the intermediation is real. Now if the
same kind of intermediation took place in the case before us, so that
on those among the multitude who were unbelieving the satisfying power
of Jesus had no influence, then must the satisfaction of hunger here
(as, in the above cases, the cure) be regarded as something effected by
Jesus directly in the body of the hungry persons, without any
antecedent augmentation of the external means of nourishment. But such
a conception of the matter, as Paul us justly remarks, and as even
Olshausen intimates, is precluded by the statement of the Evangelists,
that real food was distributed among the multitude; that each enjoyed
as much as he wanted; and that at the end the residue was greater than
the original store. It is thus plainly implied that there was an
external and objective increase of the provisions, as a preliminary to
the feeding of the multitude. Now, this cannot be conceived as effected
by means of the faith of the people in a real manner, in the sense that
that faith co-operated in producing the multiplication of the loaves.
The intermediation which Olshausen here supposes, can therefore have
been only a teleological one, that is, we are to understand by it, that
Jesus undertook to multiply the loaves and fishes for the sake of
producing a certain moral condition in the multitude. But an
intermediation of this kind affords me not the slightest help in
forming a conception of the event; for the question is not why, but how
it happened. Thus all which Olshausen believes himself to have done
towards rendering this miracle more intelligible, rests on the
ambiguity of the expression, intermediation; and the inconceivableness
of an immediate influence of the will of Jesus on irrational nature,
remains chargeable upon this history as upon those last examined.

But there is another difficulty which is peculiar to the narrative
before us. We have here not merely, as hitherto, a modification or a
direction of natural objects, but a multiplication of them, and that to
an enormous extent. Nothing, it is true, is more familiar to our
observation than the growth and multiplication of natural objects, as
presented to us in the parable of the sower, and the grain of mustard
seed, for example. But, first, these phenomena do not take place
without the co-operation of other natural agents, as earth, water, air,
so that here, also, according to the well-known principle of physics,
there is not properly speaking an augmentation of the substance, but
only a change in the accidents; secondly, these processes of growth and
multiplication are carried forward so as to pass through their various
stages in corresponding intervals of time. Here, on the contrary, in
the multiplication of the loaves and fishes by Jesus, neither the one
rule nor the other is observed: the bread in the hand of Jesus is no
longer, like the stalk on which the corn grew, in communication with
the maternal earth, nor is the multiplication gradual, but sudden.

But herein, it is said, consists the miracle, which in relation to the
last point especially, may be called the acceleration of a natural
process. That which comes to pass in the space of three quarters of a
year, from seed-time to harvest, was here effected in the minutes which
were required for the distribution of the food; for natural
developments are capable of acceleration, and to how great an extent we
cannot determine. [1462] It would, indeed, have been an acceleration of
a natural process, if in the hand of Jesus a grain of corn had borne
fruit a hundred-fold, and brought it to maturity, and if he had shaken
the multiplied grain out of his hands as they were filled again and
again, that the people might grind, knead, and bake it, or eat it raw
from the husk in the wilderness where they were;—or if he had taken a
living fish, suddenly called forth the eggs from its body, and
converted them into full-grown fish, which then the disciples or the
people might have boiled or roasted, this, we should say, would have
been an acceleration of a natural process. But it is not corn that he
takes into his hand, but bread; and the fish also, as they are
distributed in pieces, must have been prepared in some way, perhaps, as
in Luke xxiv. 42, comp. John xxi. 9, broiled or salted. Here then, on
both sides, the production of nature is no longer simple and living,
but dead and modified by art: so that to introduce a natural process of
the above kind, Jesus must, in the first place, by his miraculous power
have metamorphosed the bread into corn again, the roasted fish into raw
and living ones; then instantaneously have effected the described
multiplication; and lastly, have restored the whole from the natural to
the artificial state. Thus the miracle would be composed, 1st, of a
revivification, which would exceed in miraculousness all other
instances in the gospels; secondly, of an extremely accelerated natural
process; and thirdly, of an artificial process, effected invisibly, and
likewise extremely accelerated, since all the tedious proceedings of
the miller and baker on the one hand, and of the cook on the other,
must have been accomplished in a moment by the word of Jesus. How then
can Olshausen deceive himself and the believing reader, by the
agreeably sounding expression, accelerated natural process, when this
nevertheless can designate only a third part of the fact of which we
are speaking? [1463]

But how are we to represent such a miracle to ourselves, and in what
stage of the event must it be placed? In relation to the latter point,
three opinions are possible, corresponding to the number of the groups
that act in our narrative; for the multiplication may have taken place
either in the hands of Jesus, or in those of the disciples who
dispensed the food, or in those of the people who received it. The last
idea appears, on the one hand, puerile even to extravagance, if we are
to imagine Jesus and the apostles distributing, with great carefulness,
that there might be enough for all, little crumbs which in the hands of
the recipients swelled into considerable pieces: on the other hand, it
would have been scarcely a possible task, to get a particle, however
small, for every individual in a multitude of five thousand men, out of
five loaves, which, according to Hebrew custom, and particularly as
they were carried by a boy, cannot have been very large; and still less
out of two fishes. Of the two other opinions I think, with Olshausen,
the one most suitable is that which supposes that the food was
augmented under the creative hands of Jesus, and that he time after
time dispensed new quantities to the disciples. We may then endeavour
to represent the matter to ourselves in two ways: first we may suppose
that as fast as one loaf or fish was gone, a new one came out of the
hands of Jesus, or secondly, that the single loaves and fishes grew, so
that as one piece was broken off, its loss was repaired, until on a
calculation the turn came for the next loaf or fish. The first
conception appears to be opposed to the text, which as it speaks of
fragments ἐκ τῶν πέντε ἄρτων, of the five loaves (John vi. 13), can
hardly be held to presuppose an increase of this number; thus there
remains only the second, by the poetical description of which Lavater
has done but a poor service to the orthodox view. [1464] For this
miracle belongs to the class which can only appear in any degree
credible so long as they can be retained in the obscurity of an
indefinite conception: [1465] no sooner does the light shine on them,
so that they can be examined in all their parts, than they dissolve
like the unsubstantial creations of the mist. Loaves, which in the
hands of the distributors expand like wetted sponges,—broiled fish, in
which the severed parts are replaced instantaneously, as in the living
crab gradually,—plainly belong to quite another domain than that of
reality.

What gratitude then do we not owe to the rationalistic interpretation,
if it be true that it can free us, in the easiest manner, from the
burden of so unheard-of a miracle? If we are to believe Dr. Paulus,
[1466] the Evangelists had no idea that they were narrating anything
miraculous, and the miracle was first conveyed into their accounts by
expositors. What they narrate is, according to him, only thus much:
that Jesus caused his small store of provisions to be distributed, and
that in consequence of this the entire multitude obtained enough to
eat. Here, in any case, we want a middle term, which would distinctly
inform us, how it was possible that, although Jesus had so little food
to offer, the whole multitude obtained enough to eat. A very natural
middle term however is to be gathered, according to Paulus, out of the
historical combination of the circumstances. As, on a comparison with
John vi. 4, the multitude appear to have consisted for the greater part
of a caravan on its way to the feast, they cannot have been quite
destitute of provisions, and probably a few indigent persons only had
exhausted their stores. In order then to induce the better provided to
share their food with those who were in want, Jesus arranged that they
should have a meal, and himself set the example of imparting what he
and his disciples could spare from their own little store; this example
was imitated, and thus the distribution of bread by Jesus having led to
a general distribution, the whole multitude were satisfied. It is true
that this natural middle term must be first mentally interpolated into
the text; as, however, the supernatural middle term which is generally
received is just as little stated expressly, and both alike depend upon
inference, the reader can hardly do otherwise than decide for the
natural one. Such is the reasoning of Dr. Paulus: but the alleged
identity in the relation of the two middle terms to the text does not
in fact exist. For while the natural explanation requires us to suppose
a new distributing subject (the better provided among the multitude),
and a new distributed object (their provisions), together with the act
of distributing these provisions: the supranatural explanation contents
itself with the subject actually present in the text (Jesus and his
disciples), with the single object there given (their little store),
and the described distribution of this; and only requires us to supply
from our imagination the means by which this store could be made
sufficient to satisfy the hunger of the multitude, namely its
miraculous augmentation under the hands of Jesus (or of his disciples).
How can it be yet maintained that neither of the two middle terms is
any more suggested by the text than the other? That the miraculous
multiplication of the loaves and fishes is not expressly mentioned, is
explained by the consideration that the event itself is one of which no
clear conception can be formed, and therefore it is best conveyed by
the result alone. But how will the natural theologian account for
nothing being said of the distribution, called forth by the example of
Jesus, on the part of those among the multitude who had provisions? It
is altogether arbitrary to insert that distribution between the
sentences, He gave them to the disciples, and the disciples to the
multitude (Matt. xiv. 19), and, they did all eat and were filled (v.
20); while the words, καὶ τοὺς δύο ἰχθύας ἐμέρισε πᾶσι, and the two
fishes divided he among them all (Mark vi. 41), plainly indicate that
only the two fishes—and consequently only the five loaves—were the
object of distribution for all. [1467] But the natural explanation
falls into especial embarrassment when it comes to the baskets which,
after all were satisfied, Jesus caused to be filled with the fragments
that remained. The fourth Evangelist says: συνήγαγον οὖν, καὶ ἐγέμισαν
δώδεκα κοφίνους κλασμάτων ἐκ τῶν πέντε ἄρτων τῶν κριθίνων, ἃ
ἐπερίσσευσε τοῖς βεβρωκόσιν, therefore they gathered them together, and
filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves,
which remained over and above unto them that had eaten (vi. 13). This
seems clearly enough to imply that out of those identical five loaves,
after five thousand men had been satisfied by them, there still
remained fragments enough to fill twelve baskets,—more, that is, than
the amount of the original store. Here, therefore, the natural
expositor is put to the most extravagant contrivances in order to evade
the miracle. It is true, when the synoptists simply say that the
remnants of the meal were collected, and twelve baskets filled with
them, it might be thought from the point of view of the natural
explanation, that Jesus, out of regard to the gift of God, caused the
fragments which the crowd had left from their own provisions to be
collected by his disciples. But as, on the one hand, the fact that the
people allowed the remains of the repast to lie, and did not
appropriate them, seems to indicate that they treated the nourishment
presented to them as the property of another; so, on the other hand,
Jesus, when, without any preliminary, he directs his disciples to
gather them up, appears to regard them as his own property. Hence
Paulus understands the words ἦραν κ.τ.λ., of the synoptists, not of a
collection first made after the meal, of that which remained when the
people had been satisfied, but of the overplus of the little store
belonging to Jesus and the disciples, which the latter, after reserving
what was necessary for Jesus and themselves, carried round as an
introduction and inducement to the general repast. But how, when the
words ἔφαγον καὶ ἐχορτάσθησαν πάντες, they did all eat and were filled,
are immediately followed by καὶ ἦραν, and they took up, can the latter
member of the verse refer to the time prior to the meal? Must it not
then have necessarily been said at least ἦραν γὰρ, for they took up?
Further, how, after it had just been said that the people did eat and
were filled, can τὸ περισσεῦσαν, that which remained, especially
succeeded as it is in Luke by αὐτοῖς, to them, mean anything else than
what the people had left? Lastly, how is it possible that out of five
loaves and two fishes, after Jesus and his disciples had reserved
enough for themselves, or even without this, there could in a natural
manner be twelve baskets filled for distribution among the people? But
still more strangely does the natural explanation deal with the
narrative of John. Jesus here adds, as a reason for gathering up the
fragments, ἵνα μή τι ἀπόληται, that nothing be lost; hence it appears
impossible to divest the succeeding statement that they filled twelve
baskets with the remains of the five loaves, of its relation to the
time after the meal; and in this case, it would be impossible to get
clear of a miraculous multiplication of the loaves. Paulus therefore,
although the words συνήγαγον οὖν καὶ ἐγεμισαν δώδεκα κοφίνους κ.τ.λ.,
therefore they gathered them together and filled twelve baskets, etc.,
form a strictly coherent whole, chooses rather to detach συνήγαγον οὖν,
and, by a still more forced construction than that which he employed
with the synoptical text, makes the narrative pass all at once, without
the slightest notice, into the pluperfect, and thus leap back to the
time before the meal.

Here, then, the natural explanation once more fails to fulfil its task:
the text retains its miracle, and if we have reason to think this
incredible, we must inquire whether the narrative of the text deserves
credence. The agreement of all the four Evangelists is generally
adduced in proof of its distinguished credibility: but this agreement
is by no means so perfect. There are minor differences, first between
Matthew and Luke; then between these two and Mark, who in this instance
again embellishes; and lastly, between the synoptists collectively and
John, in the following points: according to the synoptists, the scene
of the event is a desert place, according to John, a mountain;
according to the former, the scene opens with an address from the
disciples, according to John, with a question from Jesus (two
particulars in which, as we have already remarked, the narrative of
John approaches that of the second feeding in Matthew and Mark);
lastly, the words which the three first Evangelists put into the mouth
of the disciples indefinitely, the fourth in his individualizing manner
ascribes to Philip and Andrew, and the same Evangelist also designates
the bearer of the loaves and fishes as a boy (παιδάριον). These
divergencies however may be passed over as less essential, that we may
give our attention only to one, which has a deeper hold. While, namely,
according to the synoptical accounts, Jesus had been long teaching the
people and healing their sick, and was only led to feed them by the
approach of evening, and the remark of the disciples that the people
needed refreshment: in John, the first thought of Jesus, when he lifts
up his eyes and sees the people gathering round him, is that which he
expresses in his question to Philip: Whence shall we buy bread that
these may eat? or rather, as he asked this merely to prove Philip, well
knowing himself what he would do, he at once forms the resolution of
feeding the multitude in a miraculous manner. But how could the design
of feeding the people arise in Jesus immediately on their approach?
They did not come to him for this, but for the sake of his teaching and
his curative power. He must therefore have conceived this design
entirely of his own accord, with a view to establish his miraculous
power by so signal a demonstration. But did he ever thus work a miracle
without any necessity, and even without any inducement,—quite
arbitrarily, and merely for the sake of working a miracle? I am unable
to describe strongly enough how impossible it is that eating should
here have been the first thought of Jesus, how impossible that he could
thus obtrude his miraculous repast on the people. Thus in relation to
this point, the synoptical narrative, in which there is a reason for
the miracle, must have the preference to that of John, who, hastening
towards the miracle, overlooks the requisite motive for it, and makes
Jesus create instead of awaiting the occasion for its performance. An
eye-witness could not narrate thus; [1468] and if, therefore, the
account of that gospel to which the greatest authority is now awarded,
must be rejected as unhistorical; so, with respect to the other
narratives, the difficulties of the fact itself are sufficient to cast
a doubt on their historical credibility, especially if in addition to
these negative grounds we can discover positive reasons which render it
probable that our narrative had an unhistorical origin.

Such reasons are actually found both within the evangelical history
itself, and beyond it in the Old Testament history, and the Jewish
popular belief. In relation to the former source, it is worthy of
remark, that in the synoptical gospels as well as in John, there are
more or less immediately appended to the feeding of the multitude by
Jesus with literal bread, figurative discourses of Jesus on bread and
leaven: namely, in the latter, the declarations concerning the bread of
heaven, and the bread of life which Jesus gives (John vi. 27 ff.); in
the former, those concerning the false leaven of the Pharisees and
Sadducees, that is, their false doctrine and hypocrisy. [1469] (Matt.
xvi. 5 ff.; Mark viii. 14 ff.; comp. Luke xii. 1); and on both sides,
the figurative discourse of Jesus is erroneously understood of literal
bread. It would not then be a very strained conjecture, that as in the
passages quoted we find the disciples and the people generally,
understanding literally what Jesus meant figuratively; so the same
mistake was made in the earliest Christian tradition. If, in figurative
discourses, Jesus had sometimes represented himself as him who was able
to give the true bread of life to the wandering and hungering people,
perhaps also placing in opposition to this, the leaven of the
Pharisees: the legend, agreeably to its realistic tendency, may have
converted this into the fact of a miraculous feeding of the hungry
multitude in the wilderness by Jesus. The fourth Evangelist makes the
discourse on the bread of heaven arise out of the miracle of the
loaves: but the relation might very well have been the reverse, and the
history owe its origin to the discourse, especially as the question
which introduces John’s narrative, Whence shall we buy bread that these
may eat? may be more easily conceived as being uttered by Jesus on the
first sight of the people, if he alluded to feeding them with the word
of God (comp. John iv. 32 ff.), to appeasing their spiritual hunger
(Matt. v. 6), in order to exercise (πειράζων) the higher understanding
of his disciples, than if he really thought of the satisfaction of
their bodily hunger, and only wished to try whether his disciples would
in this case confide in his miraculous power. The synoptical narrative
is less suggestive of such a view; for the figurative discourse on the
leaven could not by itself originate the history of the miracle. Thus
the gospel of John stands alone with reference to the above mode of
derivation, and it is more agreeable to the character of this gospel to
conjecture that it has applied the narrative of a miracle presented by
tradition to the production of figurative discourses in the Alexandrian
taste, than to suppose that it has preserved to us the original
discourses out of which the legend spun that miraculous narrative.

If then we can discover, beyond the limits of the New Testament, very
powerful causes for the origination of our narrative, we must renounce
the attempt to construct it out of materials presented by the gospels
themselves. And here the fourth Evangelist, by putting into the mouth
of the people a reference to the manna, that bread of heaven which
Moses gave to the fathers in the wilderness (v. 31), reminds us of one
of the most celebrated passages in the early history of the Israelites
(Exod. xvi.), which was perfectly adapted to engender the expectation
that its antitype would occur in the Messianic times; and we in fact
learn from rabbinical writings, that among those functions of the first
Goël which were to be revived in the second, a chief place was given to
the impartation of bread from heaven. [1470] If the Mosaic manna
presents itself as that which was most likely to be held a type of the
bread miraculously augmented by Jesus; the fish which Jesus also
multiplied miraculously, may remind us that Moses gave the people, not
only a substitute for bread in the manna, but also animal food in the
quails (Exod. xvi. 8, xii. 13; Num. xi. 4 ff.). On comparing these
Mosaic narratives with our evangelical ones, there appears a striking
resemblance even in details. The locality in both cases is the
wilderness; the inducement to the miracle here as there, is fear lest
the people should suffer from want in the wilderness, or perish from
hunger; in the Old Testament history, this fear is expressed by the
people in loud murmurs, in that of the New Testament, it results from
the shortsightedness of the disciples, and the benevolence of Jesus.
The direction of the latter to his disciples that they should give the
people food, a direction which implies that he had already formed the
design of feeding them miraculously, may be paralleled with the command
which Jehovah gave to Moses to feed the people with manna (Exod. xvi.
4), and with quails (Exod. xvi. 12; Num. xi. 18–20). But there is
another point of similarity which speaks yet more directly to our
present purpose. As, in the evangelical narrative, the disciples think
it an impossibility that provision for so great a mass of people should
be procured in the wilderness, so, in the Old Testament history, Moses
replies doubtingly to the promise of Jehovah to satisfy the people with
flesh (Num. xi. 21 f.). To Moses, as to the disciples, the multitude
appears too great for the possibility of providing sufficient food for
them; as the latter ask, whence they should have so much bread in the
wilderness, so Moses asks ironically whether they should slay the
flocks and the herds (which they had not). And as the disciples object,
that not even the most impoverishing expenditure on their part would
thoroughly meet the demand, so Moses, clothing the idea in another
form, had declared, that to satisfy the people as Jehovah promised, an
impossibility must happen (the fish of the sea be gathered together for
them); objections which Jehovah there, as here Jesus, does not regard,
but issues the command that the people should prepare for the reception
of the miraculous food.

But though these two cases of a miraculous supply of nourishment are
thus analogous, there is this essential distinction, that in the Old
Testament, in relation both to the manna and the quails, it is a
miraculous procuring of food not previously existing which is spoken
of, while in the New Testament it is a miraculous augmentation of
provision already present, but inadequate; so that the chasm between
the Mosaic narrative and the evangelical one is too great for the
latter to have been derived immediately from the former. If we search
for an intermediate step, a very natural one between Moses and the
Messiah is afforded by the prophets. We read of Elijah, that through
him and for his sake, the little store of meal and oil which he found
in the possession of the widow of Zarephath was miraculously
replenished, or rather was made to suffice throughout the duration of
the famine (1 Kings xvii. 8–16). This species of miracle is developed
still further, and with a greater resemblance to the evangelical
narrative, in the history of Elisha (2 Kings iv. 42 ff.). As Jesus fed
five thousand men in the wilderness with five loaves and two fishes, so
this prophet, during a famine, fed a hundred men with twenty loaves,
(which like those distributed by Jesus in John, are called barley
loaves,) together with some ground corn (‏כַּרְמֶל‎, LXX. παλάθας); a
disproportion between the quantity of provisions and the number of men,
which his servant, like the disciples in the other instance, indicates
in the question: What! should I set this before a hundred men? Elisha,
like Jesus, is not diverted from his purpose, but commands the servant
to give what he has to the people; and as in the New Testament
narrative great stress is laid on the collection of the remaining
fragments, so in the Old Testament it is specially noticed at the close
of this story, that notwithstanding so many had eaten of the store,
there was still an overplus. [1471] The only important difference here
is, that on the side of the evangelical narrative, the number of the
loaves is smaller, and that of the people greater; but who does not
know that in general the legend does not easily imitate, without at the
same time surpassing, and who does not see that in this particular
instance it was entirely suited to the position of the Messiah, that
his miraculous power, compared with that of Elisha, should be placed,
as it regards the need of natural means, in the relation of five to
twenty, but as it regards the supernatural performance, in that of five
thousand to one hundred? Paulus indeed, in order to preclude the
inference, that as the two narratives in the Old Testament are to be
understood mythically, so also is the strikingly similar evangelical
narrative, extends to the former the attempt at a natural explanation
which he has pursued with the latter, making the widow’s cruse of oil
to be replenished by the aid of the scholars of the prophets, and the
twenty loaves suffice for one hundred men by means of a praiseworthy
moderation; [1472] a mode of explanation which is more practicable here
than with the New Testament narrative, in proportion as, by reason of
the greater remoteness of these anecdotes, they present fewer critical
(and, by reason of their merely mediate relation to Christianity, fewer
dogmatical) motives for maintaining their historical veracity.

Nothing more is wanting to complete the mythical derivation of this
history of the miraculous feeding of the multitude, except the proof,
that the later Jews also believed of particularly holy men, that by
their means a small amount of provision was made sufficient, and of
this proof the disinterested industry of Dr. Paulus as a collector, has
put us in possession. He adduces a rabbinical statement that in the
time of a specially holy man, the small quantity of shew-bread more
than sufficed for the supply of the priests. [1473] To be consequent,
this commentator should try to explain this story also naturally,—by
the moderation of the priests, for instance: but it is not in the
canon, hence he can unhesitatingly regard it as a fable, and he only so
far admits its striking similarity to the evangelical narrative as to
observe, that in consequence of the Jewish belief in such augmentations
of food, attested by that rabbinical statement, the New Testament
narrative may in early times have been understood by judaizing
Christians in the same (miraculous) sense. But our examination has
shown that the evangelical narrative was designedly composed so as to
convey this sense, and if this sense was an element of the popular
Jewish legend, then is the evangelical narrative without doubt a
product of that legend. [1474]

§ 103.

JESUS TURNS WATER INTO WINE.

Next to the history of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, may
be ranged the narrative in the fourth gospel (ii. 1 ff.), of Jesus at a
wedding in Cana of Galilee turning water into wine. According to
Olshausen, both miracles fall under the same category, since in both a
substratum is present, the substance of which is modified. [1475] But
he overlooks the logical distinction, that in the miracle of the loaves
and fishes, the modification is one of quantity merely, an augmentation
of what was already existing, without any change of its quality (bread
becomes more bread, but remains bread); whereas at the wedding in Cana
the substratum is modified in quality—out of a certain substance there
is made not merely more of the same kind, but something else (out of
water, wine); in other words, a real transubstantiation takes place. It
is true there are changes in quality which are natural results, and the
instantaneous effectuation of which by Jesus would be even more easy to
conceive, than an equally rapid augmentation of quantity; for example,
if he had suddenly changed must into wine, or wine into vinegar, this
would only have been to conduct in an accelerated manner the same
vegetable substratum, the vinous juice, through various conditions
natural to it. The miracle would be already heightened if Jesus had
imparted to the juice of another fruit, the apple for instance, the
quality of that of the grape, although even in this his agency would
have been within the limits of the same kingdom of nature. But here,
where water is turned into wine, there is a transition from one kingdom
of nature to another, from the elementary to the vegetable; a miracle
which as far exceeds that of the multiplication of the loaves, as if
Jesus had hearkened to the counsel of the tempter, and turned stones
into bread. [1476]

To this miracle, as to the former, Olshausen, after Augustine, [1477]
applies his definition of an accelerated natural process, by which we
are to understand that we have here simply the occurrence, in an
accelerated manner, of that which is presented yearly in the vine in a
slow process of development. This mode of viewing the matter would have
some foundation, if the substratum on which Jesus operated had been the
same out of which wine is wont to be naturally produced; if he had
taken a vine in his hand, and suddenly caused it to bloom, and to bear
ripe grapes, this might have been called an accelerated natural
process. Even then indeed we should still have no wine, and if Jesus
were to produce this also from the vine which he took into his hand, he
must add an operation which would be an invisible substitute for the
winepress, that is, an accelerated artificial process; so that on this
supposition the category of the accelerated natural process would
already be insufficient. In fact, however, we have no vine as a
substratum for this production of wine, but water, and in this case we
could only speak with propriety of an accelerated natural process, if
by any means, however gradual, wine were ever produced out of water.
Here it is urged, that certainly out of water, out of the moisture
produced in the earth by rain and the like, the vine draws its sap,
which in due order it applies to the production of the grape, and of
the wine therein contained; so that thus yearly, by means of a natural
process, wine does actually come out of water. [1478] But apart from
the fact that water is only one of the elementary materials which are
required for the fructification of the vine, and that to this end,
soil, air, and light, must concur; it could not be said either of one,
or of all these elementary materials together, that they produce the
grape or the wine, nor, consequently, that Jesus, when he produced wine
out of water, did the same thing, only more quickly, which is repeated
every year as a gradual process: on the contrary, here again there is a
confusion of essentially distinct logical categories. For we may place
the relation of the product to the producing agent, which is here
treated of, under the category of power and manifestation, or of cause
and effect: never can it be said that water is the power or the cause,
which produces grapes and wine, for the power which gives existence to
them is strictly the vegetable individuality of the vine-plant, to
which water, with the rest of the elementary agencies, is related only
as the solicitation to the power, as the stimulus to the cause. That
is, without the co-operation of water, air, etc, grapes certainly
cannot be produced, any more than without the vine plant; but the
distinction is, that in the vine the grape, in itself or in its germ,
is already present, and water, air, etc., only assist in its
development; whereas in these elementary substances, the grape is
present neither actu nor potentiâ; they can in no way produce the fruit
out of themselves, but only out of something else—the vine. To turn
water into wine is not then to make a cause act more rapidly than it
would act in a natural way, but it is to make the effect appear without
a cause, out of a mere accessory circumstance; or, to refer more
particularly to organic nature, it is to call forth the organic product
without the producing organism, out of the simple inorganic materials,
or rather out of one of these materials only. This is about the same
thing as to make bread out of earth without the intervention of the
corn plant, flesh out of bread without a previous assimilation of it by
an animal body, or in the same immediate manner, blood out of wine. If
the supranaturalist is not here contented with appealing to the
incomprehensibleness of an omnipotent word of Jesus, but also
endeavours, with Olshausen, to bring the process which must have been
contained in the miracle in question nearer to his conception, by
regarding it in the light of a natural process; he must not, in order
to render the matter more probable, suppress a part of the necessary
stages in that process, but exhibit them all. They would then present
the following series: 1st, to the water, as one only of the elementary
agents, Jesus must have added the power of the other elements above
named; 2ndly (and this is the chief point), he must have procured, in
an equally invisible manner, the organic individuality of the vine;
3rdly, he must have accelerated, to the degree of instantaneousness,
the natural process resulting from the reciprocal action of these
objects upon one another, the blooming and fructification of the vine,
together with the ripening of the grape; 4thly, he must have caused the
artificial process of pressing, and so forth, to occur invisibly and
suddenly; and lastly, he must again have accelerated the further
natural process of fermentation, so as to render it momentary. Thus,
here again, the designation of the miracle as an accelerated natural
process, would apply to two stages only out of five, the other three
being such as cannot possibly be brought under this point of view,
though the two first, especially the second, are of greater importance
even than belonged to the stages which were neglected in the
application of this view to the history of the miraculous feeding: so
that the definition of an accelerated natural process is as inadequate
here as there. [1479] As, however, this is the only, or the extreme
category, under which we can bring such operations nearer to our
conception and comprehension; it follows that if this category be shown
to be inapplicable, the event itself is inconceivable.

Not only, however, has the miracle before us been impeached in relation
to possibility, but also in relation to utility and fitness. It has
been urged both in ancient [1480] and modern [1481] times, that it was
unworthy of Jesus that he should not only remain in the society of
drunkards, but even further their intemperance by an exercise of his
miraculous power. But this objection should be discarded as an
exaggeration, since, as expositors justly observe, from the words after
men have well drunk, ὅταν μεθυσθῶσι (v. 10), which the ruler of the
feast ἀρχιτρίκλινος uses with reference to the usual course of things
at such feasts, nothing can with certainty be deduced with respect to
the occasion in question. We must however still regard as valid an
objection, which is not only pointed out by Paulus and the author of
the Probabilia, [1482] but admitted even by Lücke and Olshausen to be
at the first glance a pressing difficulty: namely, that by this miracle
Jesus did not, as was usual with him, relieve any want, any real need,
but only furnished an additional incitement to pleasure; showed himself
not so much helpful as courteous; rather, so to speak, performed a
miracle of luxury, than of true beneficence. If it be here said that it
was a sufficient object for the miracle to confirm the faith of the
disciples, [1483] which according to v. 11 was its actual effect; it
must be remembered that, as a general rule, not only had the miracles
of Jesus, considered with regard to their form, i.e. as extraordinary
results, something desirable as their consequence, for instance, the
faith of the spectators; but also, considered with regard to their
matter, i.e. as consisting of cures, multiplications of loaves, and the
like, were directed to some really beneficent end. In the present
miracle this characteristic is wanting, and hence Paulus is not wrong
when he points out the contradiction which would lie in the conduct of
Jesus, if towards the tempter he rejected every challenge to such
miracles as, without being materially beneficent, or called for by any
pressing necessity, could only formally produce faith and astonishment,
and yet in this instance performed a miracle of that very nature.
[1484]

The supranaturalist was therefore driven to maintain that it was not
faith in general which Jesus here intended to produce, but a conviction
entirely special, and only to be wrought by this particular miracle.
Proceeding on this supposition, nothing was more natural than to be
reminded by the opposition of water and wine on which the miracle
turns, of the opposition between him who baptized with water (Matt.
iii. 11), who at the same time came neither eating nor drinking (Luke
i. 15; Matt. xi. 18), and him who, as he baptized with the Holy Ghost
and with fire, so he did not deny himself the ardent, animating fruit
of the vine, and was hence reproached with being a wine-bibber
οἰνοπότης (Matt. xi. 19); especially as the fourth gospel, in which the
narrative of the wedding at Cana is contained, manifests in a peculiar
degree the tendency to lead over the contemplation from the Baptist to
Jesus. On these grounds Herder, [1485] and after him some others,
[1486] have held the opinion, that Jesus by the above miraculous act
intended to symbolize to his disciples, several of whom had been
disciples of the Baptist, the relation of his spirit and office to
those of John, and by this proof of his superior power, to put an end
to the offence which they might take at his more liberal mode of life.
But here the reflection obtrudes itself, that Jesus does not avail
himself of this symbolical miracle, to enlighten his disciples by
explanatory discourses concerning his relation to the Baptist; an
omission which even the friends of this interpretation pronounce to be
surprising. [1487] How needful such an exposition was, if the miracle
were not to fail of its special object, is evident from the fact, that
the narrator himself, according to v. 11, understood it not at all in
this light, as a symbolization of a particular maxim of Jesus, but
quite generally, as a manifestation φανέρωσις of his glory. [1488] Thus
if that special lesson were the object of Jesus in performing the
miracle before us, then the author of the fourth gospel, that is,
according to the supposition of the above theologians, his most
apprehensive pupil, misunderstood him, and Jesus delayed in an
injudicious manner to prevent this misunderstanding; or if both these
conclusions are rejected, there still subsists the difficulty, that
Jesus, contrary to the prevailing tendency of his conduct, sought to
attain the general object of proving his miraculous power, by an act
for which apparently he might have substituted a more useful one.

Again, the disproportionate quantity of wine with which Jesus supplies
the guests, must excite astonishment. Six vessels, each containing from
two to three μετρητὰς, supposing the Attic μετρητὴς, corresponding to
the Hebrew bath, to be equivalent to 1½ Roman amphoræ, or twenty-one
Wirtemberg measures, [1489] would yield 252–378 measures. [1490] What a
quantity for a company who had already drunk freely! What enormous
vessels! exclaims Dr. Paulus, and leaves no effort untried to reduce
the statement of measures in the text. With a total disregard of the
rules of the language, he gives to the preposition ἀνὰ a collective
meaning, instead of its proper distributive one, so as to make the six
water pots (ὑδρίαι) contain, not each, but altogether, from two to
three μετρητὰς; and even Olshausen consoles himself, after Semler, with
the fact, that it is nowhere remarked that the water in all the vessels
was turned into wine. But these are subterfuges; they to whom the
supply of so extravagant and dangerous a quantity of wine on the part
of Jesus is incredible, must conclude that the narrative is
unhistorical.

Peculiar difficulty is occasioned by the relation in which this
narrative places Jesus to his mother, and his mother to him. According
to the express statement of the Evangelist, the turning of water into
wine was the beginning of the miracles of Jesus, ἀρχὴ τῶν σημείων; and
yet his mother reckons so confidently on his performing a miracle here,
that she believes it only necessary to point out to him the deficiency
of wine, in order to induce him to afford supernatural aid; and even
when she receives a discouraging answer, she is so far from losing
hope, that she enjoins the servants to be obedient to the directions of
her son (v. 3, 5). How is this expectation of a miracle on the part of
the mother of Jesus to be explained? Are we to refer the declaration of
John, that the metamorphosis of the water was the first miracle of
Jesus, merely to the period of his public life, and to presuppose as
real events, for his previous years, the apocryphal miracles of the
Gospels of the Infancy? Or, believing that Chrysostom was right in
regarding this as too uncritical, [1491] are we rather to conjecture
that Mary, in consequence of her conviction that Jesus was the Messiah,
a conviction wrought in her by the signs that attended his birth,
expected miracles from him, and as perhaps on some earlier occasions,
so now on this, when the perplexity was great, desired from him a proof
of his power? [1492] Were only that early conviction of the relatives
of Jesus that he was the Messiah somewhat more probable, and especially
the extraordinary events of the childhood, by which it is supposed to
have been produced, better accredited! Moreover, even presupposing the
belief of Mary in the miraculous power of her son, it is still not at
all clear how, notwithstanding his discouraging answer, she could yet
confidently expect that he would just on this occasion perform his
first miracle, and feel assured that she positively knew that he would
act precisely so as to require the assistance of the servants. [1493]
This decided knowledge on the part of Mary, even respecting the manner
of the miracle about to be wrought, appears to indicate an antecedent
disclosure of Jesus to her, and hence Olshausen supposes that Jesus had
given his mother an intimation concerning the miracle on which he had
resolved. But when could this disclosure have been made? Already as
they were going to the feast? Then Jesus must have foreseen that there
would be a want of wine, in which case Mary could not have apprised him
of it as of an unexpected embarrassment. Or did Jesus make the
disclosure after her appeal, and consequently in connexion with the
words: What have I to do with thee, woman, etc.? But with this answer,
it is impossible to conceive so opposite a declaration to have been
united; it would therefore be necessary, on Olshausen’s view, to
imagine that Jesus uttered the negative words aloud, the affirmative in
an undertone, merely for Mary: a supposition which would give the scene
the appearance of a comedy. Thus it is on no supposition to be
understood how Mary could expect a miracle at all, still less precisely
such an one. The first difficulty might indeed be plausibly evaded, by
maintaining that Mary did not here apply to Jesus in expectation of a
miracle, but simply that she might obtain her son’s advice in the case,
as she was wont to do in all difficult circumstances: [1494] his reply
however shows that he regarded the words of his mother as a summons to
perform a miracle, and moreover the direction which Mary gave to the
servants remains on this supposition totally unexplained.

The answer of Jesus to the intimation of his mother (v. 4) has been
just as often blamed with exaggeration [1495] as justified on
insufficient grounds. However truly it may be urged that the Hebrew
phrase, ‏מַה־לִּי וָלָךְ‎, to which the Greek τί ἐμοὶ καὶ σοὶ corresponds,
appears elsewhere as an expression of gentle blame, e.g. 2 Sam. xvi.
10; [1496] or that with the entrance of Jesus on his special office his
relation to his mother as regarded his actions was dissolved: [1497] it
nevertheless remains undeniable, that it was fitting for Jesus to be
modestly apprised of opportunities for the exercise of his miraculous
power, and if one who pointed out to him a case of disease and added an
entreaty for help, did not deserve reprehension, as little and even
less did Mary, when she brought to his knowledge a want which had
arisen, with a merely implied entreaty for assistance. The case would
have been different had Jesus considered the occasion not adapted, or
even unworthy to have a miracle connected with it; he might then have
repelled with severity the implied summons, as an incitement to a false
use of miraculous power (instanced in the history of the temptation);
as, on the contrary, he immediately after showed by his actions that he
held the occasion worthy of a miracle, it is absolutely
incomprehensible how he could blame his mother for her information,
which perhaps only came to him a few moments too soon. [1498]

Here again it has been attempted to escape from the numerous
difficulties of the supranatural view, by a natural interpretation of
the history. The commentators who advance this explanation set out from
the fact, that it was the custom among the Jews to make presents of oil
or wine at marriage feasts. Now Jesus, it is said, having brought with
him five new disciples as uninvited guests, might foresee a deficiency
of wine, and wished out of pleasantry to present his gift in an
unexpected and mysterious manner. The δόξα (glory) which he manifested
by this proceeding, is said to be merely his humanity, which in the
proper place did not disdain to pass a jest; the πίστις, (faith) which
he thereby excited in his disciples, was a joyful adherence to a man
who exhibited none of the oppressive severity which had been
anticipated in the Messiah. Mary was aware of her son’s project, and
warned him when it appeared to her time to put it in execution; but he
reminded her playfully not to spoil his jest by over-haste. His causing
water to be drawn, seems to have belonged to the playful deception
which he intended; that all at once wine was found in the vessels
instead of water, and that this was regarded as a miraculous
metamorphosis, might easily happen at a late hour of the night, when
there had already been considerable drinking; lastly, that Jesus did
not enlighten the wedding party as to the true state of the case, was
the natural consequence of his wish not himself to dissipate the
delusion which he had playfully caused. [1499] For the rest, how the
plan was effected, by what arrangements on the part of Jesus the wine
was conveyed in the place of the water, this, Paulus thinks, is not now
to be ascertained; it is enough for us to know that all happened
naturally. As however, according to the opinion of this expositor, the
Evangelist was aware, in a general manner, that the whole occurrence
was natural, why has he given us no intimation to that effect? Did he
wish to prepare for the reader the same surprise that Jesus had
prepared for the spectators? still he must afterwards have solved the
enigma, if he did not intend the delusion to be permanent. Above all,
he ought not to have used the misleading expression, that Jesus by this
act manifested forth his glory (τὴν δόξαν αὑτοῦ, v. 11), which, in the
phraseology of this gospel, can only mean his superior dignity; he
ought not to have called the incident a sign (σημεῖον), by which
something supernatural is implied; lastly, he ought not, by the
expression, the water that was made wine (τὸ ὕδωρ οἶνον γεγενημένον, v.
9), and still less by the subsequent designation of Cana as the place
where he made the water wine (ὅπου ἐποίησεν ὕδωρ οἶνον), to have
occasioned the impression, that he approved the miraculous conception
of the event. [1500] The author of the Natural History sought to elude
these difficulties by the admission, that the narrator himself, John,
regarded the event as a miracle, and meant to describe it as such. Not
to mention, however, the unworthy manner in which he explains this
error on the part of the Evangelist, [1501] it is not easy to conceive
of Jesus that he should have kept his disciples in the same delusion as
the rest of the guests, and not have given to them at least an
explanation concerning the real course of the event. It would therefore
be necessary to suppose that the narrator of this event was not one of
the disciples of Jesus: a supposition which goes beyond the sphere of
this system of interpretation. But even admitting that the narrator
himself, whoever he may have been, was included in the same deception
with those who regarded the affair as a miracle, in which case his mode
of representation and the expressions which he uses would be accounted
for; still the procedure of Jesus, and his mode of acting, are all the
more inconceivable, if no real miracle were on foot. Why did he with
refined assiduity arrange the presentation of the wine, so that it
might appear to be a miraculous gift? Why, in particular, did he cause
the vessels in which he intended forthwith to present the wine, to be
filled beforehand with water, the necessary removal of which could only
be a hindrance to the secret execution of his plan? unless indeed it be
supposed, with Woolston, that he merely imparted to the water the taste
of wine, by pouring into it some liquor. Thus there is a double
difficulty; on the one hand, that of imagining how the wine could be
introduced into the vessels already filled with water; on the other,
that of freeing Jesus from the suspicion of having wished to create the
appearance of a miraculous transmutation of the water. It may have been
the perception of these difficulties which induced the author of the
Natural History entirely to sever the connexion between the water which
was poured in, and the wine which subsequently appeared, by the
supposition that Jesus had caused the water to be fetched, because
there was a deficiency of this also, and Jesus wished to recommend the
beneficial practice of washing before and after meals, but that he
afterwards caused the wine to be brought out of an adjoining room where
he had placed it:—a conception of the matter which requires us either
to suppose the intoxication of all the guests, and especially of the
narrator, as so considerable, that they mistook the wine brought out of
the adjoining room, for wine drawn out of the water vessels; or else
that the deceptive arrangements of Jesus were contrived with very great
art, which is inconsistent with the straightforwardness of character
elsewhere ascribed to him.

In this dilemma between the supranatural and the natural
interpretations, of which, in this case again, the one is as
insufficient as the other, we should be reduced, with one of the most
recent commentators on the fourth gospel, to wait “until it pleased
God, by further developments of judicious Christian reflection, to
evolve a solution of the enigma to the general satisfaction;” [1502]
did we not discern an outlet in the fact, that the history in question
is found in John’s gospel alone. Single in its kind as this miracle is,
if it were also the first performed by Jesus, it must, even if all the
twelve were not then with Jesus, have yet been known to them all; and
even if among the rest of the Evangelists there were no apostle, still
it must have passed into the general Christian tradition, and from
thence into the synoptical memoirs: consequently, as John alone has it,
the supposition that it arose in a region of tradition unknown to the
synoptists, seems easier than the alternative, that it so early
disappeared out of that from which they drew; the only question is,
whether we are in a condition to show how such a legend could arise
without historical grounds. Kaiser points for this purpose to the
extravagant spirit of the oriental legend, which has ever been so
fertile in metamorphoses: but this source is so wide and indefinite,
that Kaiser finds it necessary also to suppose a real jest on the part
of Jesus, [1503] and thus remains uneasily suspended between the
mythical and the natural explanations, a position which cannot be
escaped from, until there can be produced points of mythical connexion
and origin more definite and exact. Now in the present case we need
halt neither at the character of eastern legend in general, nor at
metamorphoses in general, since transmutations of this particular
element of water are to be found within the narrower circle of the
ancient Hebrew history. Besides some narratives of Moses procuring for
the Israelites water out of the flinty rock in the wilderness (Exod.
xvii. 1 ff.; Num. xx. 1 ff.)—a bestowal of water which, after being
repeated in a modified manner in the history of Samson (Judges xv. 18
f.), was made a feature in the messianic expectations; [1504]—the first
transmutation of water ascribed to Moses, is the turning of all the
water in Egypt into blood, which is enumerated among the so-called
plagues (Exod. vii. 17 ff.). Together with this mutatio in deterius,
there is in the history of Moses a mutatio in melius, also effected in
water, for he made bitter water sweet, under the direction of Jehovah
(Exod. xiv. 23 ff. [1505]); as at a later era, Elisha also is said to
have made unhealthy water good and innoxious (2 Kings ii. 19 ff.
[1506]). As, according to the rabbinical passage quoted, the bestowal
of water, so also, according to this narrative in John, the
transmutation of water appears to have been transferred from Moses and
the prophets to the Messiah, with such modifications, however, as lay
in the nature of the case. If namely, on the one hand, a change of
water for the worse, like that Mosaic transmutation into blood—if a
miracle of this retributive kind might not seem well suited to the mild
spirit of the Messiah as recognised in Jesus: so on the other hand,
such a change for the better as, like the removal of bitterness or
noxiousness, did not go beyond the species of water, and did not, like
the change into blood, alter the substance of the water itself, might
appear insufficient for the Messiah; if then the two conditions be
united, a change of water for the better, which should at the same time
be a specific alteration of its substance, must almost of necessity be
a change into wine. Now this is narrated by John, in a manner not
indeed in accordance with reality, but which must be held all the more
in accordance with the spirit of his gospel. For the harshness of Jesus
towards his mother is, historically considered, incredible; but it is
entirely in the spirit of the fourth gospel, to place in relief the
exaltation of Jesus as the divine Logos by such demeanour towards
suppliants (as in John iv. 48), and even towards his mother. [1507]
Equally in the spirit of this gospel is it also, to exhibit the firm
faith which Mary maintains notwithstanding the negative answer of
Jesus, by making her give the direction to the servants above
considered, as if she had a preconception even of the manner in which
Jesus would perform his miracle, a preconception which is historically
impossible. [1508]

§ 104.

JESUS CURSES A BARREN FIG-TREE.

The anecdote of the fig-tree which Jesus caused to wither by his word,
because when he was hungry he found no fruit on it, is peculiar to the
two first gospels (Matt. xxi. 18 ff.; Mark xi. 12 ff.), but is narrated
by them with divergencies which must affect our view of the fact. One
of these divergencies of Mark from Matthew, appears so favourable to
the natural explanation, that, chiefly in consideration of it, a
tendency towards the natural view of the miracles of Jesus has been of
late ascribed to this Evangelist; and for the sake of this one
favourable divergency, he has been defended in relation to the other
rather inconvenient one, which is found in the narrative before us.

If we were restricted to the manner in which the first Evangelist
states the consequence of the curse of Jesus: and immediately the
fig-tree withered away καὶ ἐξηράνθη παραχρῆμα ἡ συκῆ, it would be
difficult here to carry out a natural explanation; for even the forced
interpretation of Paulus, which makes the word παραχρῆμα (immediately)
only exclude further human accession to the fact, and not a longer
space of time, rests only on an unwarranted transference of Mark’s
particulars into the narrative of Matthew. In Mark, Jesus curses the
fig-tree on the morning after His entrance into Jerusalem, and not till
the following morning the disciples remark, in passing, that the tree
is withered. Through this interim, which Mark leaves open between the
declaration of Jesus and the withering of the tree, the natural
explanation of the whole narrative insinuates itself, taking its stand
on the possibility, that in this interval the tree might have withered
from natural causes. Accordingly, Jesus is supposed to have remarked in
the tree, besides the lack of fruit, a condition from which he
prognosticated that it would soon wither away, and to have uttered this
prediction in the words: No one will ever again gather fruit from thee.
The heat of the day having realized the prediction of Jesus with
unexpected rapidity, and the disciples remarking this the next morning,
they then first connected this result with the words of Jesus on the
previous morning, and began to regard them as a curse: an
interpretation which, indeed, Jesus does not confirm, but impresses on
the disciples, that if they have only some self-reliance, they will be
able, not only to predict such physiologically evident results, but
also to know and effect things far more difficult. [1509] But even
admitting Mark’s statement to be the correct one, the natural
explanation still remains impossible. For the words of Jesus in Mark
(v. 14): μηκέτι ἐκ σοῦ εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα μηδεὶς καρπὸν φάγοι, No man eat
fruit of thee hereafter for ever, if they had been meant to imply a
mere conjecture as to what would probably happen, must necessarily have
had a potential signification given to them by the addition of ἂν; and
in the expression of Matthew: μηκέτι ἐκ σοῦ καρπὸς γένηται, Let no
fruit grow on thee henceforward for ever, the command is not to be
mistaken, although Paulus would only find in this also the expression
of a possibility. Moreover the circumstance that Jesus addresses the
tree itself, as also the solemn εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα, for ever, which he adds,
speaks against the idea of a mere prediction, and in favour of a curse;
Paulus perceives this fully, and hence with unwarrantable violence he
interprets the words λέγει αὐτῇ he saith to it, as if they introduced a
saying merely in reference to the tree, while he depreciates the
expression εἰς τὸν αἰωνα, by the translation: in time to come. But even
if we grant that the Evangelists, owing to their erroneous conception
of the incident, may have somewhat altered the words of Jesus, and that
he in reality only prognosticated the withering of the tree; still,
when the prediction was fulfilled, Jesus did nevertheless ascribe the
result to his own supernatural influence. For in speaking of what he
has done in relation to the fig-tree, he uses the verb ποιεῖν (v. 21
Matt.); which cannot except by a forced interpretation, be referred to
a mere prediction. But more than this, he compares what he has done in
relation to the fig-tree, with the removal of mountains; and hence, as
this, according to every possible interpretation, is an act of
causation, so the other must be regarded as an influence on the tree.
In any case, when Peter spoke of the fig-tree as having been cursed by
Jesus (v. 21 Mark), either the latter must have contradicted the
construction thus put on his words, or his silence must have implied
his acquiescence. If then Jesus in the issue ascribes the withering of
the tree to his influence, he either by his address to it designed to
produce an effect, or he ambitiously misused the accidental result for
the sake of deluding his disciples; a dilemma, in which the words of
Jesus, as they are given by the Evangelists, decidedly direct us to the
former alternative.

Thus we are inexorably thrown back from the naturalistic attempt at an
explanation, to the conception of the supranaturalists, pre-eminently
difficult as this is in the history before us. We pass over what might
be said against the physical possibility of such an influence as is
there presupposed; not, indeed, because, with Hase, we could comprehend
it through the medium of natural magic, [1510] but because another
difficulty beforehand excludes the inquiry, and does not allow us to
come to the consideration of the physical possibility. This decisive
difficulty relates to the moral possibility of such an act on the part
of Jesus. The miracle he here performs is of a punitive character.
Another example of the kind is not found in the canonical accounts of
the life of Jesus; the apocryphal gospels alone, as has been above
remarked, are full of such miracles. In one of the synoptical gospels
there is, on the contrary, a passage often quoted already (Luke ix. 55
f.), in which it is declared, as the profound conviction of Jesus, that
the employment of miraculous power in order to execute punishment or to
take vengeance, is contrary to the spirit of his vocation; and the same
sentiment is attributed to Jesus by the Evangelist, when he applies to
him the words of Isaiah: He shall not break a bruised reed, etc. (Matt.
xii. 20). Agreeably to this principle, and to his prevalent mode of
action, Jesus must rather have given new life to a withered tree, than
have made a green one wither; and in order to comprehend his conduct on
this occasion, we must be able to show reasons which he might possibly
have had, for departing in this instance from the above principle,
which has no mark of unauthenticity. The occasion on which he
enunciated that principle was when, on the refusal of a Samaritan
village to exercise hospitality towards Jesus and his disciples, the
sons of Zebedee asked him whether they should not rain down fire on the
village, after the example of Elijah. Jesus replied by reminding them
of the nature of the spirit to which they belonged, a spirit with which
so destructive an act was incompatible. In our present case Jesus had
not to deal with men who had treated him with injustice, but with a
tree which he happened not to find in the desired state. Now, there is
here no special reason for departing from the above rule; on the
contrary, the chief reason which in the first case might possibly have
moved Jesus to determine on a judicial miracle, is not present in the
second. The moral end of punishment, namely, to bring the punished
person to a conviction and acknowledgment of his error, can have no
existence in relation to a tree; and even punishment in the light of
retribution is out of the question when we are treating of natural
objects destitute of volition. [1511] For one to be irritated against
an inanimate object, which does not happen to be found just in the
desired state, is with reason pronounced to be a proof of an
uncultivated mind; to carry such indignation to the destruction of the
object is regarded as barbarous, and unworthy of a reasonable being;
and hence Woolston is not wrong in maintaining, that in any other
person than Jesus, such an act would be severely blamed. [1512] It is
true that when a natural object is intrinsically and habitually
defective, it may very well happen, that it may be removed out of the
way, in order to put a better in its place; a measure, however, for
which, in every case, only the owner has the adequate motive and
authority (comp. Luke xiii. 7). But that this tree, because just at
that time it presented no fruit, would not have borne any in succeeding
years, was by no means self-evident:—nay, the contrary is implied in
the narrative, since the form in which the curse of Jesus is expressed,
that fruit shall never more grow on the tree, presupposes, that without
this curse the tree might yet have been fruitful.

Thus the evil condition of the tree was not habitual but temporary;
still further, if we follow Mark, it was not even objective, or
existing intrinsically in the tree, but purely subjective, that is, a
result of the accidental relation of the tree to the momentary wish and
want of Jesus. For according to an addition which forms the second
feature peculiar to Mark in this narrative, it was not then the time of
figs (v. 13); it was not therefore a defect, but, on the contrary,
quite in due order, that this tree, as well as others, had no figs on
it, and Jesus (in whom it is already enough to excite surprise that he
expected to find figs on the tree so out of season) might at least have
reflected, when he found none, on the groundlessness of his
expectation, and have forborne so wholly unjust an act as the cursing
of the tree. Even some of the fathers stumbled at this addition of
Mark’s and felt that it rendered the conduct of Jesus enigmatical;
[1513] and to descend to later times, Woolston’s ridicule is not
unfounded, when he says that if a Kentish countryman were to seek for
fruit in his garden in spring, and were to cut down the trees which had
none, he would be a common laughing-stock. Expositors have attempted to
free themselves from the difficulty which this addition introduces, by
a motley series of conjectures and interpretations. On the one hand,
the wish that the perplexing words did not stand in the text, has been
turned into the hypothesis that they may probably be a subsequent
gloss. [1514] On the other hand, as, if an addition of this kind must
stand there, the contrary statement, namely, that it was then the time
of figs, were rather to be desired, in order to render intelligible the
expectation of Jesus, and his displeasure when he found it deceived; it
has been attempted in various ways to remove the negative out of the
proposition. One expedient is altogether violent, οὗ being read instead
of οὐ, a point inserted after ἦν, and a second ἦν supplied after σύκων,
so that the translation runs thus: ubi enim tum versabatur (Jesus),
tempus ficuum erat; [1515] another expedient, the transformation of the
sentence into an interrogatory one, nonne enim, etc., is absurd. [1516]
A third expedient is to understand the words καιρὸς σύκων as implying
the time of the fig-gathering, and thus to take Mark’s addition as a
statement that the figs were not yet gathered, i.e. were still on the
trees, [1517] in support of which interpretation, appeal is made to the
phrase καιρὸς τῶν καρπῶν (Matt. xxi. 34). But this expression strictly
refers only to the antecedent of the harvest, the existence of the
fruits in the fields or on the trees; when it stands in an affirmative
proposition, it can only be understood as referring to the consequent,
namely, the possible gathering of the fruit, in so far as it also
includes the antecedent, the existence of the fruits in the field:
hence ἔστι καιρὸς καρπῶν can only mean thus much: the (ripe) fruits
stand in the fields, and are therefore ready to be gathered. In like
manner, when the above expression stands in a negative proposition, the
antecedent, the existence of the fruits in the field, on the trees,
etc., is primarily denied, that of the consequent only secondarily and
by implication; thus οὐκ ἔστι καιρὸς σύκων, means: the figs are not on
the trees, and therefore not ready to be gathered; by no means the
reverse: they are not yet gathered, and therefore are still on the
trees. But this unexampled figure of speech, by which, while according
to the words the antecedent is denied, according to the sense only the
consequent is denied, and the antecedent affirmed, is not all which the
above explanation entails upon us; it also requires the admission of
another figure which is sometimes called synchisis, sometimes
hyperbaton. For, as a statement that the figs were then still on the
trees, the addition in question does not show the reason why Jesus
found none on that tree, but why he expected the contrary; it ought
therefore, say the advocates of this explanation, to stand, not after
he found nothing but leaves, but after he came, if haply he might find
any thing thereon; a transposition, however, which only proves that
this whole explanation runs counter to the text. Convinced, on the one
hand, that the addition of Mark denies the prevalence of circumstances
favourable to the existence of figs on that tree, but, on the other
hand, still labouring to justify the expectation of Jesus, other
expositors have sought to give to that negation, instead of the general
sense, that it was not the right season of the year for figs, a fact of
which Jesus must unavoidably have been aware, the particular sense,
that special circumstances only not necessarily known to Jesus,
hindered the fruitfulness of the tree. It would have been a hindrance
altogether special, if the soil in which the tree was rooted had been
an unfruitful one; hence, according to some, the words καιρὸς σύκων
actually signify a soil favourable to figs. [1518] Others with more
regard to the verbal meaning of καιρὸς, adhere it is true to the
interpretation of it as favourable time, but instead of understanding
the statement of Mark universally, as referring to a regular, annual
season, in which figs were not to be obtained, they maintain it to mean
that that particular year was from some incidental causes unfavourable
to figs. [1519] But the immediate signification of καιρὸς is the right,
in opposition to the wrong season, not a favourable season as opposed
to an unfavourable one. Now, when any one, even in an unproductive
year, seeks for fruits at the time in which they are wont to be ripe,
it cannot be said that it is the wrong season for fruit; on the
contrary, the idea of a bad year might be at once conveyed by the
statement, that when the time for fruit came, ὅτε ἦλθεν ὁ καιρὸς τῶν
καρπῶν, there was none to be found. In any case, if the whole course of
the year were unfavourable to figs, a fruit so abundant in Palestine,
Jesus must almost as necessarily have known this as that it was the
wrong season; so that the enigma remains, how Jesus could be so
indignant that the tree was in a condition which, owing to
circumstances known to him, was inevitable.

But let us only remember who it is to whom we owe that addition. It is
Mark, who, in his efforts after the explanatory and the picturesque, so
frequently draws on his own imagination; and in doing this, as it has
been long ago perceived, and as we also have had sufficient
opportunities of observing on our way, he does not always go to work in
the most considerate manner. Thus, here, he is arrested by the first
striking particular that presents itself, namely, that the tree was
without fruit, and hastens to furnish the explanation, that it was not
the time for figs, not observing that while he accounts physically for
the barrenness of the tree, he makes the conduct of Jesus morally
inexplicable. Again, the above-mentioned divergency from Matthew in
relation to the time within which the tree withered, far from evincing
more authentic information, [1520] or a tendency to the natural
explanation of the marvellous on the part of Mark, is only another
product of the same dramatising effort as that which gave birth to the
above addition. The idea of a tree suddenly withering at a word, is
difficult for the imagination perfectly to fashion; whereas it cannot
be called a bad dramatic contrivance, to lay the process of withering
behind the scenes, and to make the result be first noticed by the
subsequent passers by. For the rest, in the assertion that it was then
(a few days before Easter) no time for figs, Mark is so far right, as
it regards the conditions of climate in Palestine, that at so early a
time of the year the new figs of the season were not yet ripe, for the
early fig or boccore is not ripe until the middle or towards the end of
June; while the proper fig, the kermus, ripens only in the month of
August. On the other hand, there might about Easter still be met with
here and there, hanging on the tree, the third fruit of the fig-tree,
the late kermus, which had remained from the previous autumn, and
through the winter: [1521] as we read in Josephus that a part of
Palestine (the shores of the Galilean sea), more fruitful, certainly,
than the country around Jerusalem, where the history in question
occurred, produces figs uninterruptedly during ten months of the year,
σῦκον δέκα μησὶν ἀδιαλείπτως χορηγεῖ. [1522]

But even when we have thus set aside this perplexing addition of
Mark’s, that the tree was not really defective, but only appeared so to
Jesus in consequence of an erroneous expectation: there still subsists,
even according to Matthew, the incongruity that Jesus appears to have
destroyed a natural object on account of a deficiency which might
possibly be merely temporary. He cannot have been prompted to this by
economical considerations, since he was not the owner of the tree;
still less can he have been actuated by moral views, in relation to an
inanimate object of nature; hence the expedient has been adopted of
substituting the disciples as the proper object on which Jesus here
intended to act, and of regarding the tree, and what Jesus does to it,
as a mere means to his ultimate design. This is the symbolical
interpretation, by which first the fathers of the church, and of late
the majority of orthodox theologians among the moderns, have thought to
free Jesus from the charge of an unsuitable action. According to them,
anger towards the tree which presented nothing to appease his hunger,
was not the feeling of Jesus, in performing this action; his object not
simply the extermination of the unfruitful plant: on the contrary, he
judiciously availed himself of the occasion of finding a barren tree,
in order to impress a truth on his disciples more vividly and indelibly
than by words. This truth may either be conceived under a special form,
namely, that the Jewish nation which persisted in rendering no pleasing
fruit to God and to the Messiah, would be destroyed; or under the
general form, that every one who was as destitute of good works as this
tree was of fruit, had to look forward to a similar condemnation.
[1523] Other commentators however with reason maintain, that if Jesus
had had such an end in view in the action, he must in some way have
explained himself on the subject; for if an elucidation was necessary
when he delivered a parable, it was the more indispensable when he
performed a symbolical action, in proportion as this, without such an
indication of an object lying beyond itself, was more likely to be
mistaken for an object in itself; [1524] it is true that, here as well
as elsewhere, it might be supposed, that Jesus probably enlarged on
what he had done, for the instruction of his disciples, but that the
narrators, content with the miracle, have omitted the illustrative
discourse. If however Jesus gave an interpretation of his act in the
alleged symbolical sense, the Evangelists have not merely been silent
concerning this discourse, but have inserted a false one in its place;
for they represent Jesus, after his procedure with respect to the tree,
not as being silent, but as giving, in answer to an expression of
astonishment on the part of his disciples, an explanation which is not
the above symbolical one, but a different, nay, an opposite one. For
when Jesus says to them that they need not wonder at the withering of
the fig-tree, since with only a little faith they will be able to
effect yet greater things, he lays the chief stress on his agency in
the matter, not on the condition and the fate of the tree as a symbol:
therefore, if his design turned upon the latter, he would have spoken
to his disciples so as to contravene that design; or rather, if he so
spoke, that cannot have been his design. For the same reason, falls
also Sieffert’s totally unsupported hypothesis, that Jesus, not indeed
after, but before that act, when on the way to the fig-tree, had held a
conversation with his disciples on the actual condition and future lot
of the Jewish nation, and that to this conversation the symbolical
cursing of the tree was a mere key-stone, which explained itself: for
all comprehension of the act in question which that introduction might
have facilitated, must, especially in that age when there was so strong
a bias towards the miraculous, have been again obliterated by the
subsequent declaration of Jesus, which regarded only the miraculous
side of the fact. Hence Ullmann has judged rightly in preferring to the
symbolical interpretation, although he considers it admissible, another
which had previously been advanced: [1525] namely, that Jesus by this
miracle intended to give his followers a new proof of his perfect
power, in order to strengthen their confidence in him under the
approaching perils. Or rather, as a special reference to coming trial
is nowhere exhibited, and as the words of Jesus contain nothing which
he had not already said at an earlier period (Matt. xvii. 20; Luke
xvii. 6), Fritzsche is more correct in expressing the view of the
Evangelists quite generally, thus: Jesus used his displeasure at the
unfruitfulness of the tree, as an occasion for performing a miracle,
the object of which was merely the general one of all his miracles,
namely to attest his Messiahship. [1526] Hence Euthymius speaks
entirely in the spirit of the narrators, as described by Fritzsche,
[1527] when he forbids all investigation into the special end of the
action, and exhorts the reader only to look at it in general as a
miracle. [1528] But it by no means follows from hence that we too
should refrain from all reflection on the subject, and believingly
receive the miracle without further question; on the contrary, we
cannot avoid observing, that the particular miracle which we have now
before us, does not admit of being explained as a real act of Jesus,
either upon the general ground of performing miracles, or from any
peculiar object or motive whatever. Far from this, it is in every
respect opposed both to his theory and his prevailing practice, and on
this account, even apart from the question of its physical possibility,
must be pronounced more decidedly, than any other, to be such a miracle
as Jesus cannot really have performed.

It is incumbent on us, however, to adduce positive proof of the
existence of such causes as, even without historical foundation, might
give rise to a narrative of this kind. Now in our usual source, the Old
Testament, we do, indeed, find many figurative discourses and
narratives about trees, and fig-trees in particular; but none which has
so specific an affinity to our narrative, that we could say the latter
is an imitation of it. But we need not search long in the New
Testament, before we find, first in the mouth of the Baptist (Matt.
iii. 10), then in that of Jesus (vii. 19), the apothegm of the tree,
which, because it bears no good fruit, is cut down and cast into the
fire; and further on (Luke xiii. 6 ff.) this theme is dilated into the
fictitious history of a man who for three years in vain seeks for fruit
on a fig-tree in his vineyard, and on this account determines to cut it
down, but that the gardener intercedes for another year’s respite. It
was already an idea of some fathers of the church, that the cursing of
the fig-tree was only the parable of the barren fig-tree carried out
into action. [1529] It is true that they held this opinion in the sense
of the explanation before cited, namely, that Jesus himself, as he had
previously exhibited the actual condition and the approaching
catastrophe of the Jewish people in a figurative discourse, intended on
the occasion in question to represent them by a symbolical action;
which, as we have seen, is inconceivable. Nevertheless, we cannot help
conjecturing, that we have before us one and the same theme under three
different modifications: first, in the most concentrated form, as an
apothegm; then expanded into a parable; and lastly realized as a
history. But we do not suppose that what Jesus twice described in
words, he at length represented by an action; in our opinion, it was
tradition which converted what it met with as an apothegm and a parable
into a real incident. That in the real history the end of the tree is
somewhat different from that threatened in the apothegm and parable,
namely, withering instead of being cut down, need not amount to a
difficulty. For had the parable once become a real history, with Jesus
for its subject, and consequently its whole didactic and symbolical
significance passed into the external act, then must this, if it were
to have any weight and interest, take the form of a miracle, and the
natural destruction of the tree by means of the axe must be transformed
into an immediate withering on the word of Jesus. It is true that there
seems to be the very same objection to this conception of the narrative
which allows its inmost kernel to be symbolical, as to the one above
considered; namely, that it is contravened by the words of Jesus which
are appended to the narrative. But on our view of the gospel histories
we are warranted to say, that with the transformation of the parable
into a history, its original sense also was lost, and as the miracle
began to be regarded as constituting the pith of the matter, that
discourse on miraculous power and faith, was erroneously annexed to it.
Even the particular circumstance that led to the selection of the
saying about the removal of the mountain for association with the
narrative of the fig-tree, may be shown with probability. The power of
faith, which is here represented by an effectual command to a mountain:
Be thou removed and be thou cast into the sea, is elsewhere (Luke xvii.
6) symbolized by an equally effectual command to a species of fig-tree
(συκάμινος): Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the
sea. Hence the cursing of the fig-tree, so soon as its withering was
conceived to be an effect of the miraculous power of Jesus, brought to
mind the tree or the mountain which was to be transported by the
miraculous power of faith, and this saying became appended to that
fact. Thus, in this instance, praise is due to the third gospel for
having preserved to us the parable of the barren συκῆ, and the apothegm
of the συκάμινος to be transplanted by faith, distinct and pure, each
in its original form and significance; while the two other synoptists
have transformed the parable into a history, and have misapplied the
apothegm (in a somewhat altered form) to a false explanation of that
pretended history. [1530]

CHAPTER X.

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS, AND HIS LAST JOURNEY TO JERUSALEM.

§ 105.

THE TRANSFIGURATION OF JESUS CONSIDERED AS A MIRACULOUS EXTERNAL EVENT.

The history of the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain could not
be ranged with the narratives of miracles which we have hitherto
examined; not only because it relates to a miracle which took place in
Jesus instead of a miracle performed by him; but also because it has
the character of an epoch in the life of Jesus, which on the score of
resemblance could only be associated with the baptism and resurrection.
Hence Herder has correctly designated these three events as the three
luminous points in the life of Jesus, which attest his heavenly
mission. [1531]

According to the impression produced by the first glance at the
synoptical narrative (Matt. xvii. 1 ff.; Mark ix. 2 ff.; Luke ix. 28
ff.)—for the history is not found in the fourth gospel—we have here a
real, external, and miraculous event. Jesus, six or eight days after
the first announcement of his passion, ascends a mountain with his
three most confidential disciples, who are there witnesses how all at
once his countenance, and even his clothes, are illuminated with
supernatural splendour; how two venerable forms from the realm of
spirits, Moses and Elias, appear talking with him; and lastly, how a
heavenly voice, out of the bright cloud, declares Jesus to be the Son
of God, to whom they are to give ear.

These few points in the history give rise to a multitude of questions,
by the collection of which Gabler has done a meritorious service.
[1532] In relation to each of the three phases of the event—the light,
the apparition of the dead, and the voice—both its possibility, and the
adequacy of its object, may be the subject of question. First, whence
came the extraordinary light with which Jesus was invested? Let it be
remembered that a metamorphosis of Jesus is spoken of (μεταμορφώθη
ἔμπροσθεν αὐτῶν): now this would appear to imply, not a mere
illumination from without, but an irradiation from within, a transient
effulgence, so to speak, of the beams of the divine glory through the
veil of humanity. Thus Olshausen regards this event as an important
crisis in the process of purification and glorification, through which
he supposes the corporeality of Jesus to have passed, during his whole
life up to the time of his ascension. [1533] But without here dilating
further on our previous arguments, that either Jesus was no real man,
or the purification which he underwent during his life, must have
consisted in something else than the illumination and subtilization of
his body; it is in no case to be conceived how his clothes, as well as
his body, could participate in such a process of transfiguration. If,
on this account, it be rather preferred to suppose an illumination from
without, this would not be a metamorphosis, which however is the term
used by the Evangelists: so that no consistent conception can be formed
of this scene, unless indeed we choose, with Olshausen, to include both
modes, and think of Jesus as both radiating, and irradiated. But even
supposing this illumination possible, there still remains the question,
what purpose could it serve? The answer which most immediately suggests
itself is: to glorify Jesus; but compared with the spiritual glory
which Jesus created for himself by word and deed, this physical
glorification, consisting in the investing of his body with a brilliant
light, must appear very insignificant, nay, almost childish. If it be
said that, nevertheless, such a mode of glorifying Jesus was necessary
for the maintenance of weak faith: we reply that in that case, it must
have been effected in the presence of the multitude, or at least before
the entire circle of the disciples, not surely before just the select
three who were spiritually the strongest; still less would these few
eye-witnesses have been prohibited from communicating the event
precisely during the most critical period, namely, until after the
resurrection.—These two questions apply with enhanced force to the
second feature in our history, the apparition of the two dead men. Can
departed souls become visible to the living? and if, as it appears, the
two men of God presented themselves in their former bodies, only
transfigured, whence had they these—according to biblical ideas—before
the universal resurrection? Certainly in relation to Elijah, who went
up to heaven without laying aside his body, this difficulty is not so
great; Moses, however, died, and his corpse was buried. But further, to
what end are we to suppose that these two illustrious dead appeared?
The evangelical narrative, by representing the forms as talking with
Jesus, συλλαλοῦντες τῶ Ἰ., seems to place the object of their
appearance in Jesus; and if Luke be correct, it had reference more
immediately to the approaching sufferings and death of Jesus. But they
could not have made the first announcement of these events to him, for,
according to the unanimous testimony of the synoptists, he had himself
predicted them a week before (Matt. xvi. 21 parall.). Hence it is
conjectured, that Moses and Elias only informed Jesus more minutely
concerning the particular circumstances and conditions of his death:
[1534] but, on the one hand, it is not accordant with the position
which the gospels assign to Jesus in relation to the ancient prophets,
that he should have needed instruction from them; and on the other
hand, Jesus had already foretold his passion so circumstantially, that
the more special revelations from the world of spirits could only have
referred to the particulars of his being delivered to the Gentiles, and
the spitting in his face, of which he does not speak till a subsequent
occasion (Matt. xx. 19; Mark x. 34). If, however, it be suggested, that
the communication to be made to Jesus consisted not so much in
information, as in the conferring of strength for his approaching
sufferings: we submit that at this period there is not yet any trace of
a state of mind in Jesus, which might seem to demand assistance of this
kind; while for his later sufferings this early strengthening did not
suffice, as is evident from the fact, that in Gethsemane a new
impartation is necessary. Thus we are driven, though already in
opposition to the text, to try whether we cannot give the appearance a
relation to the disciples; but first, the object of strengthening faith
is too general to be the motive of so special a dispensation; secondly,
Jesus, in the parable of the rich man, must on this supposition have
falsely expounded the principle of the divine government in this
respect, for he there says that he who will not hear the writings of
Moses and the prophets,—and how much more he who will not hear the
present Christ?—would not be brought to believe, though one should
return to him from the dead: whence it must be inferred that such an
apparition, at least to that end, is not permitted by God. The more
special object, of convincing the disciples that the doctrine and fate
of Jesus were in accordance with Moses and the prophets, had been
already partly attained; and it was not completely attained until after
the death and resurrection of Jesus, and the outpouring of the Spirit:
the transfiguration not having formed any epoch in their enlightenment
on this subject.—Lastly, the voice out of the bright cloud (without
doubt the Shechinah) is, like that at the baptism, a divine voice: but
what an anthropomorphic conception of the Divine Being must that be,
which admits the possibility of real, audible speech on his part! Or if
it be said, that a communication of God to the spiritual ear, is alone
spoken of here, [1535] the scene of the transfiguration is reduced to a
vision, and we are suddenly transported to a totally different point of
view.

§ 106.

THE NATURAL EXPLANATION OF THE NARRATIVE IN VARIOUS FORMS.

It has been sought to escape from the difficulties of the opinion which
regards the transfiguration of Jesus as not only a miraculous, but also
an external event, by confining the entire incident to the internal
experience of the parties concerned. In adopting this position, the
miraculous is not at once relinquished; it is only transferred to the
internal workings of the human mind, as being thus more simple and
conceivable. Accordingly it is supposed, that by divine influence the
spiritual nature of the three apostles, and probably also of Jesus
himself, was exalted to a state of ecstasy, in which they either
actually entered into intercourse with the higher world, or were able
to shadow forth its forms to themselves in the most vivid manner; that
is, the event is regarded as a vision. [1536] But the chief support of
this interpretation, namely, that Matthew himself, by the expression
ὅραμα, vision (v. 9), describes the event as merely subjective and
visionary, gives way so soon as it is remembered, that neither is there
anything in the signification of the word ὅραμα which determines it to
refer to what is merely mental, nor is it exclusively so applied even
in the phraseology of the New Testament, for we also find it, as in
Acts vii. 31, used to denote something perceived externally. [1537] As
regards the fact itself, it is improbable, and at least without
scriptural precedent, that several persons, as, here, three or four,
should have had the same very complex vision; [1538] to which it may be
added, that on this view of the subject also, the whole difficult
question recurs concerning the utility of such a miraculous
dispensation.

To avoid the above difficulty, others, still confining the event to the
internal experience of the parties, regard it as the product of a
natural activity of soul, and thus explain the whole as a dream. [1539]
During or after a prayer offered by Jesus, or by themselves, in which
mention was made of Moses and Elias, and their advent as messianic
forerunners desired, the three disciples, according to this
interpretation, slept, and (the two names mentioned by Jesus yet
sounding in their ears) dreamed that Moses and Elias were present, and
that Jesus conversed with them: an illusion which continued during the
first confused moments after their awaking. As the former explanation
rests on the ὅραμα of Matthew, so it is alleged in support of this,
that Luke describes the disciples as heavy with sleep, βεβαρημένοι
ὕπνῳ, and only towards the end of the scene as fully awake,
διαγρηγορήσαντες (v. 32). The hold which the third Evangelist here
presents to the natural explanation, has been made a reason for
assigning to his narrative an important superiority over that of the
two other Evangelists; recent critics pronouncing that by this and
other particulars, which bring the event nearer to natural possibility,
the account in Luke evinces itself to be the original, while that of
Matthew, by its omission of those particulars, is proved to be the
traditionary one, since with the eagerness for the miraculous which
characterized that age, no one would fabricate particulars calculated
to diminish the miracle, as is the case with the sleepiness of the
disciples. [1540] This mode of conclusion we also should be obliged to
adopt, if in reality the above features could only be understood in the
spirit of the natural interpretation. But we have only to recollect how
in another scene, wherein the sufferings, which according to Luke were
announced at the transfiguration, began to be accomplished, and
wherein, according to the same Evangelist, Jesus likewise held
communication with a heavenly apparition, namely, in Gethsemane, the
disciples, in all the synoptical gospels, again appear asleep,
καθεύδοντες (Matt. xxvi. 40 parall.). If it be admitted, that the
merely external, formal resemblance of the two scenes, might cause a
narrator to convey the trait of the slumber into the history of the
transfiguration, there is a yet stronger probability that the internal
import of the trait might appear to him appropriate to this occasion
also, for the sleeping of the disciples at the very moment when their
master was going through his most critical experience, exhibits their
infinite distance from him, their inability to attain his exalted
level; the prophet, the recipient of a revelation, is among ordinary
men like a watcher among the sleeping: hence it followed, of course,
that as in the deepest suffering, so here also in the highest
glorification of Jesus, the disciples should be represented as heavy
with sleep. Thus this particular, so far from furnishing aid to the
natural explanation, is rather intended by a contrast to heighten the
miracle which took place in Jesus. We are, therefore, no longer
warranted in regarding the narrative in Luke as the original one, and
in building an explanation of the event on his statement; on the
contrary, we consider that addition, in connexion with the one already
mentioned (v. 31), a sign that his account is a traditionary and
embellished one, [1541] and must rather adhere to that of the two other
Evangelists.

Not only, however, does the interpretation which sees in the
transfiguration only a natural dream of the apostles, fail as to its
main support, but it has besides a multitude of internal difficulties.
It presupposes only the three disciples to have been dreaming, leaving
Jesus awake, and thus not included in the illusion. But the whole tenor
of the evangelical narrative implies that Jesus as well as the
disciples saw the appearance; and what is still more decisive, had the
whole been a mere dream of the disciples, he could not afterwards have
said to them: Tell the vision to no man, since by these words he must
have confirmed in them the belief that they had witnessed something
special and miraculous. Supposing however that Jesus had no share in
the dream, it still remains altogether unexampled, that three persons
should in a natural manner have had the same dream at the same time.
This the friends of the above interpretation have perceived, and hence
have supposed that the ardent Peter, who indeed is the only speaker,
alone had the dream, but that the narrators, by a synecdoche attributed
to all the disciples what in fact happened only to one. But from the
circumstance that Peter here, as well as elsewhere, is the spokesman,
it does not follow that he alone had the vision, and the contrary can
by no figure of speech be removed from the clear words of the
Evangelists. But the explanation in question still more plainly betrays
its inadequacy. Not only does it require, as already noticed, that the
audible utterance of the name of Moses and Elias on the part of Jesus,
should be blended with the dream of the disciples; but it also calls in
the aid of a storm, which by its flashes of lightning is supposed to
have given rise in them to the idea of supernatural splendour, by its
peals of thunder, to that of conversation and heavenly voices, and to
have held them in this delusion even for some time after they awaked.
But, according to Luke, it was on the waking of the disciples
(διαγρηγορήσαντες δὲ εἶδον κ.τ.λ.) that they saw the two men standing
by Jesus: this does not look like a mere illusion protracted from a
dream into waking moments; hence Kuinöl introduces the further
supposition, that, while the disciples slept, there came to Jesus two
unknown men, whom they, in awaking, connected with their dream, and
mistook for Moses and Elias. By giving this turn to the circumstances,
all those occurrences which on the interpretation based on the
supposition of a dream, should be regarded as mere mental conceptions,
are again made external realities: for the idea of supernatural
brilliancy is supposed to have been produced by a flash of lightning,
the idea of voices, by thunder, and lastly, the idea of two persons in
company with Jesus, by the actual presence of two unknown individuals.
All this the disciples could properly perceive only when they were
awake; and hence the supposition of a dream falls to the ground as
superfluous.

Therefore, since this interpretation, by still retaining a thread of
connexion between the alleged character of the event and a mental
condition, has the peculiar difficulty of making three partake in the
same dream, it is better entirely to break this thread, and restore all
to the external world: so that we now have a natural external
occurrence before us, as in the first instance we had a supernatural
one. Something objective presented itself to the disciples; thus it is
explained how it could be perceived by several at once: they deceived
themselves when awake as to what they saw; this was natural, because
they were all born within the same circle of ideas, were in the same
frame of mind, and in the same situation. According to this opinion,
the essential fact in the scene on the mountain, is a secret interview
which Jesus had preconcerted, and with a view to which he took with him
the three most confidential of his disciples. Who the two men were with
whom Jesus held this interview, Paulus does not venture to determine;
Kuinöl conjectures that they were secret adherents of the same kind as
Nicodemus; according to Venturini, they were Essenes, secret allies of
Jesus. Before these were arrived, Jesus prayed, and the disciples, not
being invited to join, slept; for the sleep noticed by Luke, though it
were dreamless, is gladly retained in this interpretation, since a
delusion appears more probable in the case of persons just awaking. On
hearing strange voices talking with Jesus, they awake, see Jesus, who
probably stood on a higher point of the mountain than they, enveloped
in unwonted brilliancy, proceeding from the first rays of morning,
which, perhaps reflected from a sheet of snow, fell on Jesus, but were
mistaken by them in the surprise of the moment for a supernatural
illumination; they perceive the two men, whom, for some unknown
reasons, the drowsy Peter, and after him the rest, take for Moses and
Elias; their astonishment increases when they see the two unknown
individuals disappear in a bright morning cloud, which descends as they
are in the act of departing, and hear one of them pronounce out of the
cloud the words: οὗτος ἐστιν κ.τ.λ., which they under these
circumstances unavoidably regard as a voice from heaven. [1542] This
explanation, which even Schleiermacher is inclined to favour, [1543] is
supposed, like the former, to find a special support in Luke, because
in this Evangelist the assertion that the two men are Moses and Elias,
is much less confidently expressed than in Matthew and Mark, and more
as a mere notion of the drowsy Peter. For while the two first
Evangelists directly say: ὤφθησαν αὐτοῖς Μωσῆς καὶ Ἐλίας (there
appeared unto them Moses and Elias), Luke more warily, as it seems,
speaks of ἄνδρες δύο, οἵτινες ἦσαν Μωσῆς καὶ Ἐλίας (two men, who were
Moses and Elias), the first designation being held to contain the
objective fact, the second its subjective interpretation. But this
interpretation is obviously approved by the narrator, from his choice
of the word οἵτινες ἦσαν, instead of ἔδοξαν εἶναι; that he first speaks
of two men, and afterwards gives them their names, cannot have been to
leave another interpretation open to the reader, but only to imitate
the mysteriousness of the extraordinary scene, by the indefiniteness of
his first expression. While this explanation has thus as little support
in the evangelical narratives as those previously considered, it has at
the same time no fewer difficulties in itself. The disciples must have
been so far acquainted with the appearance of the morning beams on the
mountains of their native land, as to be able to distinguish them from
a heavenly glory; how they came to have the idea that the two unknown
individuals were Moses and Elias, is not easy to explain on any of the
former views, but least of all on this;—why Jesus, when Peter, by his
proposal about the building of the three tabernacles, gave him to
understand the delusion of the disciples, did not remove it, is
incomprehensible, and this difficulty has induced Paulus to resort to
the supposition, that Jesus did not hear the address of Peter;—the
whole conjecture about secret allies of Jesus has justly lost all
repute; and lastly, the one of those allies who spoke the words to the
disciples out of the cloud, must have permitted himself to use an
unworthy mystification.

§ 107.

THE HISTORY OF THE TRANSFIGURATION CONSIDERED AS A MYTHUS.

Thus here, as in every former instance, after having run through the
circle of natural explanations, we are led back to the supernatural; in
which, however, we are precluded from resting by difficulties equally
decisive. Since then the text forbids a natural interpretation, while
it is impossible to maintain as historical the supernatural
interpretation which it sanctions, we must apply ourselves to a
critical examination of its statements. These are indeed said to be
especially trustworthy in the narrative before us, the fact being
narrated by three Evangelists, who strikingly agree even in the precise
determination of the time, and being moreover attested by the Apostle
Peter (2 Pet. i. 17). [1544] The agreement as to the time (the eight
days ἡμέραι ὀκτὼ of Luke meaning, according to the usual reckoning, the
same as the six days ἡμέραι ἓξ of the other Evangelists) is certainly
striking; and besides this, all the three narrators concur in placing
immediately after the transfiguration the cure of the demoniacal boy,
which the disciples had failed to effect. But both these points of
agreement may be accounted for, by the origin of the synoptical gospels
from a fixed fund of evangelical tradition, in relation to which, we
need not be more surprised that it has grouped together many anecdotes
in a particular manner without any objective reason, than that it has
often preserved expressions in which it might have varied, through all
the three editions. [1545] The attestation of the history by the three
synoptists is, however, very much weakened, at least on the ordinary
view of the relation which the four gospels bear to each other, by the
silence of John; since it does not appear why this Evangelist should
not have included in his history an event which was so important, and
which moreover accorded so well with his system, nay, exactly realized
the declaration in his prologue (v. 14): We beheld his glory, the glory
as of the only begotten of the Father. The worn-out reason, that he
might suppose the event to be sufficiently known through his
predecessors, is, over and above its general invalidity, particularly
unavailable here, because no one of the synoptists was in this instance
an eye-witness, and consequently there must be many things in their
narratives which one who, like John, had participated in the scene,
might rectify and explain. Hence another reason has been sought for
this and similar omissions in the fourth gospel; and such an one has
been supposed to be found in the anti-gnostic, or, more strictly, the
anti-docetic tendency which has been ascribed to the gospel, in common
with the epistles, bearing the name of John. It is, accordingly,
maintained that in the history of the transfiguration, the splendour
which illuminated Jesus, the transformation of his appearance into
something more than earthly, might give countenance to the opinion that
his human form was nothing but an unsubstantial veil, through which at
times his true, superhuman nature shone forth; that his converse with
the spirits of ancient prophets might lead to the conjecture, that he
was himself perhaps only a like spirit of some Old Testament saint
revisiting the earth; and that, rather than give nourishment to such
erroneous notions, which began early to be formed among gnosticising
Christians, John chose to suppress this and similar histories. [1546]
But besides that it does not correspond with the apostolic plainness of
speech (παῤῥησία) to suppress important facts in the evangelical
history, on account of their possible abuse by individuals. John, if he
were guided by the above consideration must at least have proceeded
with some consistency, and have excluded from the circle of his
accounts all narratives which, in an equal degree with the one in
question, were susceptible of a docetic misinterpretation. Now, here,
every one must at once be reminded of the history of the walking of
Jesus on the sea, which is at least equally calculated with the history
of the transfiguration, to produce the idea that the body of Jesus was
a mere phantom, but which John nevertheless records. It is true that
the relative importance of events might introduce a distinction; so
that of two narratives with an equally strong docetic aspect, John
might include the one on account of its superior weight, while he
omitted the less important. But no one will contend that the walking of
Jesus on the sea surpasses, or even equals, in importance the history
of the transfiguration. John, if he were intent on avoiding what wore a
docetic appearance, must on every consideration have suppressed the
first history before all others. As he has not done so, the above
principle cannot have influenced him, and consequently can never be
advanced as a reason for the designed omission of a history in the
fourth gospel; rather it may be concluded, and particularly in relation
to the event in question, that the author knew nothing, or at least
nothing precise, of that history. [1547] It is true that this
conclusion can form an objection to the historical character of the
narrative of the transfiguration, to those only who suppose the fourth
gospel to be the work of an apostle; so that from this silence we
cannot argue against the truth of the narrative. On the other hand, the
agreement of the synoptists proves nothing in its favour, since we have
already been obliged to pronounce unhistorical more than one narrative
in which three, nay, all four gospels agree. Lastly, as regards the
alleged testimony of Peter, from the more than doubtful genuineness of
the second Epistle of Peter, the passage which certainly refers to our
history of the transfiguration is renounced as a proof of its
historical truth even by orthodox theologians. [1548]

On the other hand besides the difficulties previously enumerated, lying
in the miraculous contents of the narrative, we have still a further
ground for doubt in relation to the historical validity of the
transfiguration: namely, the conversation which, according to the two
first Evangelists, the disciples held with Jesus immediately after. In
descending from the mountain, the disciples ask Jesus: τί οὖν οἱ
γραμματεῖς λέγουσιν, ὅτι Ἐλίαν δεῖ ἐλθεῖν πρωτον; Why then say the
scribes that Elias must first come? (Matt. v. 10). This sounds just as
if something had happened, from which they necessarily inferred that
Elias would not appear; and not in the least as if they were coming
directly from a scene in which he had actually appeared; for in the
latter case they would not have asked a question, as if unsatisfied,
but must rather have indicated their satisfaction by the remark,
εἰκότως οὖν οἱ γραμματεῖς λέγουσιν κ.τ.λ. Truly then do the scribes
say, etc. [1549] Hence, expositors interpret the question of the
disciples to refer, not to the absence of an appearance of Elias in
general, but to the absence of a certain concomitant in the scene which
they had just witnessed. The doctrine of the scribes, namely, had
taught them to anticipate that Elias on his second appearance would
exert a reforming influence on the life of the nation; whereas in the
appearance which they had just beheld he had presently vanished again
without further activity. [1550] This explanation would be admissible
if the words ἀποκαταστήσει πάντα (will restore all things) stood in the
question of the disciples; instead of this, however, it stands in both
narratives (Matt. v. 11; Mark v. 12) only in the answer of Jesus: so
that the disciples, according to this supposition, must, in the most
contradictory manner, have been silent as to what they really missed,
the restoration of all things, and only have mentioned that which after
the foregoing appearance they could not have missed, namely, the coming
of Elias. As, however, the question of the disciples presupposes no
previous appearance of Elias, but, on the contrary, expresses the
feeling that such an appearance was wanting, so the answer which Jesus
gives them has the same purport. For when he replies: the scribes are
right in saying that Elias must come before the Messiah; but this is no
argument against my Messiahship, since an Elias has already preceded me
in the person of the Baptist,—when he thus seeks to guard his disciples
against the doubt which might arise from the expectation of the
scribes, by pointing out to them the figurative Elias who had preceded
him,—it is impossible that an appearance of the actual Elias can have
previously taken place; otherwise Jesus must in the first place have
referred to this appearance, and only in the second place to the
Baptist. [1551] Thus the immediate connexion of this conversation with
that appearance cannot be historical, but is rather owing solely to
this point of similarity;—that in both mention is made of Elias. [1552]
But not even at an interval, and after the lapse of intermediate
events, can such a conversation have been preceded by an appearance of
Elias; for however long afterwards, both Jesus and the three
eye-witnesses among his disciples must have remembered it, and could
never have spoken as if such an appearance had not taken place. Still
further, an appearance of the real Elias cannot have happened even
after such a conversation, in accordance with the orthodox idea of
Jesus. For he, too, explicitly declares his opinion that the literal
Elias was not to be expected, and that the Baptist was the promised
Elias; if therefore, nevertheless, an appearance of the real Elias did
subsequently take place, Jesus must have been mistaken; a consequence
which precisely those who are most concerned for the historical reality
of the transfiguration, are the least in a position to admit. If then
the appearance and the conversation directly exclude each other, the
question is, which of the two passages can better be renounced? Now the
purport of the conversation is so confirmed by Matt. xi. 14, comp. Luke
i. 17, while the transfiguration is rendered so improbable by all kinds
of difficulties, that there cannot be much doubt as to the decision.
According to this, it appears here as in some former cases, that two
narratives proceeding from quite different presuppositions, and having
arisen also in different times, have been awkwardly enough combined:
the passage containing the conversation proceeding from the probably
earlier opinion, that the prophecy concerning Elias had its fulfilment
in John; whereas the narrative of the transfiguration doubtless
originated at a later period, when it was not held sufficient that in
the messianic time of Jesus, Elias should only have appeared
figuratively, in the person of the Baptist,—when it was thought fitting
that he should also have shown himself personally and literally, if in
no more than a transient appearance before a few witnesses (a public
and more influential one being well known not to have taken place).
[1553]

In order next to understand how such a narrative could arise in a
legendary manner, the first feature to be considered, on the
examination of which that of all the rest will most easily follow, is
the sun-like splendour of the countenance of Jesus, and the bright
lustre of his clothes. To the oriental, and more particularly to the
Hebrew imagination, the beautiful, the majestic, is the luminous; the
poet of the Song of Songs compares his beloved to the hues of morning,
to the moon, to the sun (vi. 9); the holy man supported by the blessing
of God, is compared to the sun going forth in his might (Judg. v. 31);
and above all the future lot of the righteous is likened to the
splendour of the sun and the stars (Dan. xii. 3; Matt. xiii. 43).
[1554] Hence, not only does God appear clothed in light, and angels
with resplendent countenances and shining garments (Ps. l. 2, 3; Dan.
vii. 9 f., x. 5, 6; Luke xxiv. 4; Rev. i. 13 ff.), but also the pious
of Hebrew antiquity, as Adam before the fall, and among subsequent
instances, more particularly Moses and Joshua, are represented as being
distinguished by such a splendour; [1555] and the later Jewish
tradition ascribes celestial splendour even to eminent rabbins in
exalted moments. [1556] But the most celebrated example of this kind is
the luminous countenance of Moses, which is mentioned, Exod. xxxiv. 29
ff., and as in other points, so in this, a conclusion was drawn from
him in relation to the Messiah, a minori ad majus. Such a mode of
arguing is indicated by the Apostle Paul, 2 Cor. iii. 7 ff., though he
opposes to Moses, the minister of the letter, διακόνος τοῦ γράμματος,
not Jesus, but, in accordance with the occasion of his epistle, the
apostles and Christian teachers, ministers of the spirit, διακόνος τοῦ
πνεύματος, and the glory, δόξα, of the latter, which surpassed the
glory of Moses, is an object of hope, ἐλπίς, to be attained only in the
future life. But especially in the Messiah himself, it was expected
that there would be a splendour which would correspond to that of
Moses, nay, outshine it; and a Jewish writing which takes no notice of
our history of the transfiguration, argues quite in the spirit of the
Jews of the first Christian period, when it urges that Jesus cannot
have been the Messiah, because his countenance had not the splendour of
the countenance of Moses, to say nothing of a higher splendour. [1557]
Such objections, doubtless heard by the early Christians from the Jews,
and partly suggested by their own minds, could not but generate in the
early church a tendency to introduce into the life of Jesus an
imitation of that trait in the life of Moses, nay, in one respect to
surpass it, and instead of a shining countenance that might be covered
with a veil, to ascribe to him a radiance, though but transitory, which
was diffused even over his garments.

That the illumination of the countenance of Moses served as a type for
the transfiguration of Jesus, is besides proved by a series of
particular features. Moses obtained his splendour on Mount Sinai: of
the transfiguration of Jesus also the scene is a mountain; Moses, on an
earlier ascent of the mountain, which might easily be confounded with
the later one, after which his countenance became luminous, had taken
with him, besides the seventy elders, three confidential friends,
Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu, to participate in the vision of Jehovah (Exod.
xxiv. 1, 9–11); so Jesus takes with him his three most confidential
disciples, that, so far as their powers were adequate, they might be
witnesses of the sublime spectacle, and their immediate object was,
according to Luke v. 28, to pray, προσεύξασθαι: just as Jehovah calls
Moses with the three companions and the elders, to come on the
mountain, that they might worship at a distance. As afterwards, when
Moses ascended Sinai with Joshua, the glory of the Lord, δόξα Κυρίου,
covered the mountain as a cloud, νεφέλη (v. 15 f. LXX.); as Jehovah
called to Moses out of the cloud, until at length the latter entered
into the cloud (v. 16–18): so we have in our narrative a bright cloud,
νεφέλη φωτὸς, which overshadows Jesus and the heavenly forms, a voice
out of the cloud, φωνὴ ἐκ τῆς νεφέλης, and in Luke an entering,
εἰσελθεῖν, of the three into the cloud. The first part of the address
pronounced by the voice out of the cloud, consists of the messianic
declaration, composed out of Ps. ii. 7, and Isa. xlii. 1, which had
already sounded from heaven at the baptism of Jesus; the second part is
taken from the words with which Moses, in the passage of Deuteronomy
quoted earlier (xviii. 15), according to the usual interpretation,
announces to the people the future Messiah, and admonishes them to
obedience towards him. [1558]

By the transfiguration on the mount Jesus was brought into contact with
his type Moses, and as it had entered into the anticipation of the Jews
that the messianic time, according to Isa. lii. 6 ff., would have not
merely one, but several forerunners, [1559] and that among others the
ancient lawgiver especially would appear in the time of the Messiah:
[1560] so no moment was more appropriate for his appearance than that
in which the Messiah was being glorified on a mountain, as he had
himself once been. With him was then naturally associated the prophet,
who, on the strength of Mal. iii. 23, was the most decidedly expected
to be a messianic forerunner, and, indeed, according to the rabbins, to
appear contemporaneously with Moses. If these two men appeared to the
Messiah, it followed as a matter of course that they conversed with
him; and if it were asked what was the tenor of their conversation,
nothing would suggest itself so soon as the approaching sufferings and
death of Jesus, which had been announced in the foregoing passage, and
which besides, as constituting emphatically the messianic mystery of
the New Testament, were best adapted for the subject of such a
conversation with beings of another world: whence one cannot but wonder
how Olshausen can maintain that the mythus would never have fallen upon
this theme of conversation. According to this, we have here a mythus,
[1561] the tendency of which is twofold: first, to exhibit in the life
of Jesus an enhanced repetition of the glorification of Moses; and
secondly, to bring Jesus as the Messiah into contact with his two
forerunners,—by this appearance of the lawgiver and the prophet, of the
founder and the reformer of the theocracy, to represent Jesus as the
perfecter of the kingdom of God, and the fulfilment of the law and the
prophets; and besides this, to show a confirmation of his messianic
dignity by a heavenly voice. [1562]

Before we part with our subject, this example may serve to show us with
peculiar clearness, how the natural system of interpretation, while it
seeks to preserve the historical certainty of the narratives, loses
their ideal truth—sacrifices the essence to the form: whereas the
mythical interpretation, by renouncing the historical body of such
narratives, rescues and preserves the idea which resides in them, and
which alone constitutes their vitality and spirit. Thus if, as the
natural explanation would have it, the splendour around Jesus was an
accidental, optical phenomenon, and the two appearances either images
of a dream or unknown men, where is the significance of the incident?
where the motive for preserving in the memory of the church an anecdote
so void of ideas, and so barren of inference, resting on a common
delusion and superstition? On the contrary, while according to the
mythical interpretation, I do not, it is true, see in the evangelical
narrative any real event,—I yet retain a sense, a purpose in the
narrative, know to what sentiments and thoughts of the first Christian
community it owes its origin, and why the authors of the gospels
included so important a passage in their memoirs. [1563]

§ 108.

DIVERGING ACCOUNTS CONCERNING THE LAST JOURNEY OF JESUS TO JERUSALEM.

Shortly after the transfiguration on the mountain, the Evangelists make
Jesus enter on the fatal journey which conducted him to his death. With
respect to the place from whence he set out on this journey, and the
route which he took, the evangelical accounts differ. The synoptists
agree as to the point of departure, for they all represent Jesus as
setting out from Galilee (Matt. xix. 1; Mark x. 1; Luke ix. 51; in this
last passage, Galilee is not indeed expressly named, but we necessarily
infer it to be the supposed locality from what precedes, in which only
Galilee and districts in Galilee are spoken of, as well as from the
journey through Samaria, mentioned in the succeeding passage): [1564]
but concerning the route which Jesus chose from thence to Judæa, they
appear to be at variance. It is true that the statements of two of them
on this point are so obscure, that they might appear to lend some aid
to the harmonizing exegesis. Mark says in the clearest and most
definite manner that Jesus took his course through Peræa; but his
statement, He came into the coasts of Judæa on the further side of
Jordan, ἔρχεται εἰς τὰ ὅρια τῦς Ἰουδαίας διὰ τοῦ πέραν τοῦ Ἰορδάνου, is
scarcely anything more than the mode in which he judged it right to
explain the hardly intelligible expression of Matthew, whom he follows
in this chapter. What it precisely is which the latter intends by the
words, He departed from Galilee, and came into the coasts of Judæa
beyond Jordan, μετῆρεν ἀπὸ τῆς Γαλιλαίας καὶ ἦλθεν εἰς τὰ ὅρια τῆς
Ἰουδαίας πέραν τοῦ Ἰορδάνου, is in fact not at all evident. For if the
explanation: he came into that part of Judæa which lies on the opposite
side of the Jordan, [1565] clashes alike with geography and grammar, so
the interpretation to which the comparison of Mark inclines the
majority of commentators, namely, that Jesus came into Judæa through
the country on the farther side of the Jordan, [1566] is, even as
modified by Fritzsche, not free from grammatical difficulty. In any
case, however, thus much remains: that Matthew, as well as Mark, makes
Jesus take the most circuitous course through Peræa, while Luke, on the
other hand, appears to lead him the more direct way through Samaria. It
is true that his expression, xvii. 11, where he says that Jesus, on his
journey to Jerusalem, passed through the midst of Samaria and Galilee,
διήρχετο διὰ μέσου Σαμαρείας καὶ Γαλιλαίας is scarcely clearer than the
one just cited from Matthew. According to the customary meaning of
words, he seems to state that Jesus first crossed Samaria, and then
Galilee, in order to arrive at Jerusalem. But this is an inversion of
the true order; for if he set out from a place in Galilee, he must
first traverse the rest of Galilee, and not until then could he enter
Samaria. Hence the words διέρχεσθαι διὰ μέσου κ.τ.λ. have been
interpreted to mean a progress along the boundary between Galilee and
Samaria, [1567] and Luke has been reconciled with the two first
Evangelists by the supposition, that Jesus journeyed along the
Galilean-Samarian frontier, until he reached the Jordan, that he then
crossed this river, and so proceeded through Peræa towards Judæa and
Jerusalem. But this latter supposition does not agree with Luke ix. 51
ff.; for we learn from this passage that Jesus, after his departure
from Galilee, went directly to a Samaritan village, and here made an
unfavourable impression, because his face was as though he would go to
Jerusalem, ὅτι τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ ἦν πορευόμενον εἰς Ἱερουσαλήμ. Now
this seems clearly to indicate that Jesus took his way directly from
Galilee, through Samaria, to Judæa. We shall therefore be on the side
of probability, if we judge this statement to be an artificial
arrangement of words, to which the writer was led by his desire to
introduce the narrative of the ten lepers, one of whom was a Samaritan;
[1568] and consequently admit that there is here a divergency between
the synoptical gospels. [1569] Towards the end of the journey of Jesus,
they are once more in unison, for according to their unanimous
statement, Jesus arrived at Jerusalem from Jericho (Matt. xx. 29,
parall.); a place which, we may observe, lay more in the direct road
for a Galilean coming through Peræa, than for one coming through
Samaria.

Thus there is indeed a difference between the synoptists with regard to
the way taken by Jesus; but still they agree as to the first point of
departure, and the last stage of the road; the account of John,
however, diverges from them in both respects. According to him, it is
not Galilee from whence Jesus sets out to attend the last passover, for
so early as before the feast of tabernacles of the previous year, he
had left that province, apparently for the last time (vii. 1, 10); that
between this feast and that of the dedication (x. 22) he had returned
thither, is at least not stated; after the latter feast, however, he
betook himself to Peræa, and remained there (x. 40) until the illness
and death of Lazarus recalled him into Judæa, and into the immediate
vicinity of Jerusalem, namely, to Bethany (xi. 8 ff.). On account of
the machinations of his enemies, he quickly withdrew from thence again,
but, because he intended to be present at the coming Passover, he
retired no further than to the little city of Ephraim, near to the
wilderness (xi. 54); and from this place, no mention being made of a
residence in Jericho (which, besides, did not lie in the way from
Ephraim, according to the situation usually assigned to the latter
city), he proceeded to Jerusalem to the feast.

So total a divergency necessarily gave unwonted occupation to the
harmonists. According to them, the departure from Galilee mentioned by
the synoptists, is not the departure to the last Passover, but to the
feast of dedication; [1570] though Luke, when he says, when the time
came that he should be received up, ἐν τῷ συμπληροῦσθαι τὰς ἡμέρας τῆς
ἀναλήψεως αὐτοῦ (ix. 51), incontrovertibly marks it as the departure to
that feast on which the sufferings and death of Jesus awaited him, and
though all the synoptists make the journey then begun end in that
triumphal entry into Jerusalem which, according to the fourth gospel
also, took place immediately before the last passover. [1571] If,
according to this, the departure from Galilee narrated by the
synoptists is regarded as that to the feast of dedication, and the
entrance into Jerusalem which they mention as that to the subsequent
passover; they must have entirely passed over all which, on this
supposition, lay between these two points, namely, the arrival and
residence of Jesus in Jerusalem during the feast of dedication, his
journey from thence into Peræa, from Peræa to Bethany, and from Bethany
to Ephraim. If from this it should appear to follow that the synoptists
were ignorant of all these particulars: our harmonists urge, on the
contrary, that Luke makes Jesus soon after his journey out of Galilee,
encounter scribes, who try to put him to the proof (x. 25 ff.); then
shows him in Bethany in the vicinity of Jerusalem (x. 38 ff.);
hereupon, removes him to the frontiers of Samaria and Galilee (xvii.
11); and not until then, makes him proceed to the passover in Jerusalem
(xix. 29 ff.): all which plainly enough indicates, that between that
departure out of Galilee, and the final entrance into Jerusalem, Jesus
made another journey to Judæa and Jerusalem, and from thence back
again. [1572] But, in the first place, the presence of the scribes
proves absolutely nothing; and in the second, Luke makes no mention of
Bethany, but only of a visit to Mary and Martha, whom the fourth
Evangelist places in that village: from which, however, it does not
follow that the third also supposed them to dwell there, and
consequently imagined Jesus when at their home, to be in the vicinity
of Jerusalem. Again, from the fact that so very long after his
departure (ix. 51–xvii. 11), Jesus first appears on the frontier
between Galilee and Samaria, it only follows that we have before us no
orderly progressive narrative. But, according to this harmonizing view,
even Matthew was aware of those intermediate events, and has indicated
them for the more attentive reader: the one member of his sentence, he
departed from Galilee, μετηρεν ἀπὸ τῆς Γαλιλαίας, intimates the journey
of Jesus to the feast of dedication, and thus forms a separate whole;
the other, and came into the coasts of Judæa beyond Jordan, καὶ ἦλθεν
εἰς τὰ ὅρια τῆς Ἰουδαίας πέραν τοῦ Ἰορδάνου, refers to the departure of
Jesus from Jerusalem into Peræa (John x. 40), and opens a new period.
In adopting this expedient, however, it is honourably confessed that
without the data gathered from John, no one would have thought of such
a dismemberment of the passage in Matthew. [1573] In opposition to such
artifices, no way is open to those who presuppose the accuracy of
John’s narrative, but that adopted by the most recent criticism;
namely, to renounce the supposition that Matthew, who treats of the
journey very briefly, was an eye-witness; and to suppose of Luke, whose
account of it is very full, that either he or one of the collectors of
whose labours he availed himself, mingled together two separate
narratives, of which one referred to the earlier journey of Jesus to
the feast of dedication, the other to his last journey to the passover,
without suspecting that between the departure of Jesus out of Galilee,
and his entrance into Jerusalem, there fell yet an earlier residence in
Jerusalem, together with other journeys and adventures. [1574]

We may now observe how in the course of the narrative concerning the
last journey or journeys to Jerusalem, the relation between the
synoptical gospels and that of John is in a singular manner reversed.
As in the first instance, we discovered a great blank on the side of
the former, in their omission of a mass of intermediate events which
John notices; so now, towards the end of the account of the journey,
there appears on the side of the latter, a similar, though smaller
blank, for he gives no intimation of Jesus having come through Jericho
on his way to Jerusalem. It may indeed be said, that John might
overlook this passage through Jericho, although, according to the
synoptists, it was distinguished by a cure of the blind, and the visit
to Zacchæus; but, it is to be asked, is there in his narrative room for
a passage through Jericho? This city does not lie on the way from
Ephraim to Jerusalem, but considerably to the eastward; hence help is
sought in the supposition that Jesus made all kinds of minor
excursions, in one of which he came to Jericho, and from hence went
forward to Jerusalem. [1575]

In any case a remarkable want of unity prevails in the evangelical
accounts of the last journey of Jesus; for according to the common,
synoptical tradition, he journeyed out of Galilee by Jericho (and, as
Matthew and Mark say, through Peræa, as Luke says, through Samaria);
while according to the fourth gospel, he must have come hither from
Ephraim: statements which it is impossible to reconcile.

§ 109.

DIVERGENCIES OF THE GOSPELS, IN RELATION TO THE POINT FROM WHICH JESUS
MADE HIS ENTRANCE INTO JERUSALEM.

Even concerning the close of the journey of Jesus—concerning the last
station before he reached Jerusalem, the Evangelists are not entirely
in unison. While from the synoptical gospels it appears, that Jesus
entered Jerusalem on the same day on which he left Jericho, and
consequently without halting long at any intervening place (Matt. xx.
34, xxi. 1 ff. parall.): the fourth gospel makes him go from Ephraim
only so far as Bethany, spend the night there, and enter Jerusalem only
on the following day (xii. 1, 12 ff.). In order to reconcile the two
accounts it is said: we need not wonder that the synoptists, in their
summary narrative, do not expressly touch upon the spending of the
night in Bethany, and we are not to infer from this that they intended
to deny it; there exists, therefore, no contradiction between them and
John, but what they present in a compact form, he exhibits in detail.
[1576] But while Matthew does not even name Bethany, the two other
synoptists mention this place in a way which decidedly precludes the
supposition that Jesus spent the night there. They narrate that when
Jesus came near to Bethphage and Bethany, ὡς ἤγγισεν εἰς Βηθφαγῆ καὶ
Βηθανίαν, he caused an ass to be fetched from the next village, and
forthwith rode on this into the city. Between events so connected it is
impossible to imagine a night interposed; on the contrary, the
narrative fully conveys the impression that immediately on the message
of Jesus, the ass was surrendered by its owner, and that immediately
after the arrival of the ass, Jesus prepared to enter the city.
Moreover, if Jesus intended to remain in Bethany for the night, it is
impossible to discover his motive in sending for the ass. For if we are
to suppose the village to which he sent to be Bethany, and if the
animal on which he purposed to ride would not be required until the
following morning, there was no need for him to send forward the
disciples, and he might conveniently have waited until he arrived with
them in Bethany; the other alternative, that before he had reached
Bethany, and ascertained whether the animal he required might not be
found there, he should have sent beyond this nearest village to
Bethphage, in order there to procure an ass for the following morning,
is altogether destitute of probability; and yet Matthew, at least, says
decidedly that the ass was procured in Bethphage. To this it may be
added, that according to the representation of Mark, when Jesus arrived
in Jerusalem, the evening ὀψία, had already commenced (xi. 11), and
consequently it was only possible for him to take a cursory survey of
the city and the temple, after which he again returned to Bethany. It
is not, certainly, to be proved that the fourth gospel lays the
entrance in the morning; but it must be asked, why did not Jesus, when
he only came from so near a place as Bethany, set out earlier from
thence, that he might have time to do something worth speaking of in
Jerusalem? The late arrival of Jesus in the city, as stated by Mark, is
evidently to be explained only by the longer distance from Jericho
thither; if he came from Bethany merely, he would scarcely set out so
late, as that after he had only looked round him in the city, he must
again return to Bethany, in order on the following day to set out
earlier, which nothing had hindered him from doing on this day. It is
true that, in deferring the arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem until late in
the evening, Mark is not supported by the two other synoptists, for
these represent Jesus as undertaking the purification of the temple on
the day of his arrival, and Matthew even makes him perform cures, and
give answers to the high priests and scribes (Matt. xxi. 12 ff.): but
even without this statement as to the hour of entrance, the arrival of
Jesus near to the above villages, the sending of the disciples, the
bringing of the ass, and the riding into the city, are too closely
consecutive, to allow of our inserting in the narrative of the
synoptists a night’s residence in Bethany.

If then it remains, that the three first Evangelists make Jesus proceed
directly from Jericho, without any stay in Bethany, while the fourth
makes him come to Jerusalem from Bethany only, they must, if they are
mutually correct, speak of two separate entrances; and this has been
recently maintained by several critics. [1577] According to them, Jesus
first (as the synoptists relate) proceeded directly to Jerusalem with
the caravan going to the feast, and on this occasion there happened,
when he made himself conspicuous by mounting the animal, an
unpremeditated demonstration of homage on the part of his
fellow-travellers, which converted the entrance into a triumphal
progress. Having retired to Bethany in the evening, on the following
morning (as John relates) a great multitude went out to meet him, in
order to convey him into the city, and as he met with them on the way
from Bethany, there was a repetition on an enlarged scale of the scene
on the foregoing day,—this time preconcerted by his adherents. This
distinction of an earlier entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem before his
approach was known in the city, and a later, after it was learned that
he was in Bethany, is favoured by the difference, that according to the
synoptical narrative, the people who render homage to him are only
going before προάγοντες, and following ἀκολουθοῦντες (Matt. v. 9),
while according to that of John, they are meeting him ὑπαντήσαντες (v.
13, 18). If however it be asked: why then among all our narrators, does
each give only one entrance, and not one of them show any trace of a
second? The answer in relation to John is, that this Evangelist is
silent as to the first entrance, probably because he was not present on
the occasion, having possibly been sent to Bethany to announce the
arrival of Jesus. [1578] As, however, according to our principles, if
it be assumed of the author of the fourth gospel, that he is the
apostle named in the superscription, the same assumption must also be
made respecting the author of the first: we ask in vain, whither are we
then to suppose that Matthew was sent on the second entrance, that he
knew nothing to relate concerning it? since with the repeated departure
from Bethany to Jerusalem, there is no conceivable cause for such an
errand. In relation to John indeed it is a pure invention; not to
insist, that even if the two Evangelists were not personally present,
they must yet have learned enough of an event so much talked of in the
circle of the disciples, to be able to furnish an account of it. Above
all, as the narrative of the synoptists does not indicate that a second
entrance had taken place after the one described by them: so that of
John is of such a kind, that before the entrance which it describes, it
is impossible to conceive another. For according to this narrative, the
day before the entrance which it details (consequently, according to
the given supposition, on the day of the synoptical entrance), many
Jews went from Jerusalem to Bethany, because they had heard of the
arrival of Jesus, and now wished to see him and Lazarus whom he had
restored to life (v. 9, comp. 12). But how could they learn on the day
of the synoptical entrance, that Jesus was at Bethany? On that day
Jesus did indeed pass either by or through Bethany, but he proceeded
directly to Jerusalem, whence, according to all the narratives, he
could have returned to Bethany only at so late an hour in the evening,
that Jews who now first went from Jerusalem, could no longer hope to be
able to see him. [1579] But why should they take the trouble to seek
Jesus in Bethany, when they had on that very day seen him in Jerusalem
itself? Surely in this case it must have been said—not merely, that
they came not for Jesus’ sake ONLY, but that they might see Lazarus
also, οὐ διὰ τὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον ἀλλ’ ἵνα καὶ τὸν Λάζαρον ἴδωσι,—but
rather that they had indeed seen Jesus himself in Jerusalem, but as
they wished to see Lazarus also, they came therefore to Bethany:
whereas the Evangelist represents these people as coming from Jerusalem
partly to see Jesus; he cannot therefore have supposed that Jesus might
have been seen in Jerusalem on that very day. Further, when it is said
in John, that on the following day it was heard in Jerusalem that Jesus
was coming (v. 12), this does not at all seem to imply that Jesus had
already been there the day before, but rather that the news had come
from Bethany, of his intention to enter on this day. So also the
reception which is immediately prepared for him, alone has its proper
significance when it is regarded as the glorification of his first
entrance into the metropolis; it could only have been appropriate on
his second entrance, if Jesus had the day before entered unobserved and
unhonoured, and it had been wished to repair this omission on the
following day—not if the first entrance had already been so brilliant.
Moreover, on the second entrance every feature of the first must have
been repeated, which, whether we refer it to a preconceived arrangement
on the part of Jesus, or to an accidental coincidence of circumstances,
still remains improbable. With respect to Jesus, it is not easy to
understand how he could arrange the repetition of a spectacle which, in
the first instance significant, if acted a second time would be flat
and unmeaning; [1580] on the other hand, circumstances must have
coincided in an unprecedented manner, if on both occasions there
happened the same demonstrations of homage on the part of the people,
with the same expressions of envy on the part of his opponents; if, on
both occasions, too, there stood at the command of Jesus an ass, by
riding which he brought to mind the prophecy of Zechariah. We might
therefore call to our aid Sieffert’s hypothesis of assimilation, and
suppose that the two entrances, originally more different, became thus
similar by traditional intermixture: were not the supposition that two
distinct events lie at the foundation of the evangelical narratives,
rendered improbable by another circumstance.

On the first glance, indeed, the supposition of two entrances seems to
find support in the fact, that John makes his entrance take place the
day after the meal in Bethany, at which Jesus was anointed under
memorable circumstances; whereas the two first synoptists (for Luke
knows nothing of a meal at Bethany in this period of the life of Jesus)
make their entrance precede this meal: and thus, quite in accordance
with the above supposition, the synoptical entrance would appear the
earlier, that of John the later. This would be very well, if John had
not placed his entrance so early, and the synoptists their meal at
Bethany so late, that the former cannot possibly have been subsequent
to the latter. According to John, Jesus comes six days before the
passover to Bethany, and on the following day enters Jerusalem (xiii.
1, 12); on the other hand, the meal at Bethany, mentioned by the
synoptists (Matt. xxvi. 6 ff. parall.), can have been at the most but
two days before the passover (v. 2); so that if we are to suppose the
synoptical entrance prior to the meal and the entrance in John, there
must then have been after all this, according to the synoptists, a
second meal in Bethany. But between the two meals thus presupposed, as
between the two entrances, there would have been the most striking
resemblance even to the minutest points; and against the interweaving
of two such double incidents, there is so strong a presumption, that it
will scarcely be said there were two entrances and two meals, which
were originally far more dissimilar, but, from the transference of
features out of the one incident into the other by tradition, they have
become as similar to each other as we now see them: on the contrary,
here if anywhere, it is easier, when once the authenticity of the
accounts is given up, to imagine that tradition has varied one
incident, than that it has assimilated two. [1581]

§ 110.

MORE PARTICULAR CIRCUMSTANCES OF THE ENTRANCE. ITS OBJECT AND
HISTORICAL REALITY.

While the fourth gospel first makes the multitude that streamed forth
to meet Jesus render him their homage, and then briefly states that
Jesus mounted a young ass which he had obtained; the synoptists
commence their description of the entrance with a minute account of the
manner in which Jesus came by the ass. When, namely, he had arrived in
the neighbourhood of Jerusalem, towards Bethphage and Bethany, at the
Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples into the village lying
before them, telling them that when they came there they would
find—Matthew says, an ass tied, and a colt with her; the two others, a
colt whereon never man sat—which they were to loose and bring to him,
silencing any objections of the owner by the observation, the Lord hath
need of him (or them). This having been done, the disciples spread
their clothes, and placed Jesus—on both the animals, according to
Matthew; according to the two other synoptists, on the single animal.

The most striking part of this account is obviously the statement of
Matthew, that Jesus not only required two asses, though he alone
intended to ride, but that he also actually sat on them both. It is
true that, as is natural, there are not wanting attempts to explain the
former particular, and to do away with the latter. Jesus, it is said,
caused the mother animal to be brought with the colt, on which alone he
intended to ride, in order that the young and still sucking animal
might by this means be made to go more easily; [1582] or else the
mother, accustomed to her young one, followed of her own accord: [1583]
but a young animal, yet unweaned, would scarcely be given up by its
owner to be ridden. A sufficient motive on the part of Jesus in sending
for the two animals, could only be that he intended to ride both, which
Matthew appears plainly enough to say; for his words imply, not only
that the clothes were spread, but also that Jesus was placed on the two
animals (ἐπάνω αὐτων). But how are we to represent this to ourselves?
As an alternate mounting of the one and the other, Fritzsche thinks:
[1584] but this, for so short a distance would have been a superfluous
inconvenience. Hence commentators have sought to rid themselves of the
singular statement. Some, after very weak authorities, and in
opposition to all critical principles, read in the words relative to
the spreading of the clothes, ἐπ’ αὐτὸν (τὸν πωλον), upon it (the
colt), instead of ἐπάνω αὐτων, upon them; and then in the mentioning
that Jesus placed himself thereon, refer the ἐπάνω αυτων to the clothes
which were spread on one of the animals. [1585] Others, thinking to
escape the difficulty without an alteration of the reading,
characterize Matthew’s statement as an enallage numeri, [1586] by
which, according to Winer’s explanation, it is meant that the
Evangelist, using an inaccurate mode of expression, certainly speaks of
both the animals, but only in the sense in which we say of him who
springs from one of two horses harnessed together, that he springs from
the horses. [1587] Admitting this expedient to be sufficient, it again
becomes incomprehensible why Jesus, who according to this only meant to
use one animal, should have sent for two. The whole statement becomes
the more suspicious, when we consider that it is given by the first
Evangelist alone; for in order to reconcile the others with him it will
not suffice to say, as we ordinarily read, that they name only the foal
as being that on which Jesus rode, and that while omitting the ass as
an accessory fact, they do not exclude it.

But how was Matthew led into this singular statement? Its true source
has been pointed out, though in a curious manner, by those who
conjecture, that Jesus in his instructions to the two disciples, and
Matthew in his original writing, following the passage of Zechariah
(ix. 9), made use of several expressions for the one idea of the ass,
which expressions were by the Greek translator of the first gospel
misconstrued to mean more than one animal. [1588] Undoubtedly it was
the accumulated designations of the ass in the above passage: ‏הֲמוֹר
וְעַיִר בֶּן־אֲתֹנות‎, ὑποζύγιον καὶ πωλον νέον, LXX. which occasioned the
duplication of it in the first gospel; for the and which in the Hebrew
was intended in an explanatory sense, was erroneously understood to
denote an addition, and hence instead of: an ass, that is, an ass’s
foal, was substituted: an ass together with an ass’s foal. [1589] But
this mistake cannot have originated with the Greek translator, who, if
he had found throughout Matthew’s narrative but one ass, would scarcely
have doubled it purely on the strength of the prophetic passage, and as
often as his original spoke of one ass, have added a second, or
introduced the plural number instead of the singular; it must rather
have been made by one whose only written source was the prophetic
passage, out of which, with the aid of oral tradition, he spun his
entire narrative, i.e. the author of the first gospel; who hereby, as
recent criticism correctly maintains, irrecoverably forfeits the
reputation of an eye-witness? [1590]

If the first gospel stands alone in this mistake, so, on the other
hand, the two intermediate Evangelists have a feature peculiar to
themselves, which it is to the advantage of the first to have avoided.
We shall merely point out in passing the prolixity with which Mark and
Luke (though they, as well as Matthew, make Jesus describe to the two
disciples, how they would find the ass, and wherewith they were to
satisfy the owner), yet do not spare themselves or the reader the
trouble of almost verbally repeating every particular as having
occurred (Mark v. 4 ff.; Luke v. 32 ff.); whereas Matthew, with more
judgment, contents himself with the observation, and the disciples went
and did as Jesus commanded them. This, as affecting merely the form of
the narrative, we shall not dwell on further. But it concerns the
substance, that, according to Mark and Luke, Jesus desired an animal
whereon yet never man sat, ἐφ’ ὃ οὐδεὶς πώποτε ἀνθρώπων ἐκάθισε: a
particular of which Matthew knows nothing. One does not understand how
Jesus could designedly increase the difficulty of his progress, by the
choice of a hitherto unridden animal, which, unless he kept it in order
by divine omnipotence (for the most consummate human skill would not
suffice for this on the first riding), must inevitably have occasioned
much disturbance to the triumphal procession, especially as we are not
to suppose that it was preceded by its mother, this circumstance having
entered into the representation of the first Evangelist only. To such
an inconvenience Jesus would assuredly not have exposed himself without
a cogent reason: such a reason however appears to lie sufficiently near
in the opinion of antiquity, according to which, to use Wetstein’s
expression, animalia, usibus humanis nondum mancipata, sacra
habebantur; so that thus Jesus, for his consecrated person, and the
high occasion of his messianic entrance, may have chosen to use only a
sacred animal. But regarded more closely, this reason will appear
frivolous, and absurd also; for the spectators had no means of knowing
that the ass had never been ridden before, except by the unruliness
with which he may have disturbed the peaceful progress of the triumphal
train. [1591] If we are thus unable to comprehend how Jesus could seek
an honour for himself in mounting an animal which had never yet been
ridden; we shall, on the contrary, find it easy to comprehend how the
primitive Christian community might early believe it due to his honour
that he should ride only on such an animal, as subsequently that he
should lie only in an unused grave. The authors of the intermediate
gospels did not hesitate to receive this trait into their memoirs,
because they indeed, in writing, would not experience the same
inconvenience from the undisciplined animal, which it must have caused
to Jesus in riding.

The two difficulties already considered belong respectively to the
first Evangelist, and the two intermediate ones: another is common to
them all, namely, that which lies in the circumstance that Jesus so
confidently sends two disciples for an ass which they would find in the
next village, in such and such a situation, and that the issue
corresponds so closely to his prediction. It might here appear the most
natural, to suppose that he had previously bespoken the ass, and that
consequently it stood ready for him at the hour and place appointed;
[1592] but how could he have thus bespoken an ass in Bethphage, seeing
that he was just come from Jericho? Hence even Paulus in this instance
finds something else more probable: namely, that about the time of the
feasts, in the villages lying on the high road to Jerusalem, many
beasts of burden stood ready to be hired by travellers; but in
opposition to this it is to be observed, that Jesus does not at all
seem to speak of the first animal that may happen to present itself,
but of a particular animal. Hence we cannot but be surprised that
Olshausen describes it as only the probable idea of the narrator, that
to the Messiah making his entrance into Jerusalem, the providence of
God presented everything just as he needed it; as also that the same
expositor, in order to explain the ready compliance of the owners of
the animal, finds it necessary to suppose that they were friends of
Jesus; since this trait rather serves to exhibit the as it were magical
power which resided in the name of the Lord, at the mention of which
the owner of the ass unresistingly placed it at his disposal, as
subsequently the inhabitant of the room gave it up at a word from the
Master (Matt. xxvi. 18 parall.). To this divine providence in favour of
the Messiah, and the irresistible power of his name, is united the
superior knowledge by means of which Jesus here clearly discerns a
distant fact which might be available for the supply of his wants.

Now admitting this to be the meaning and design of the Evangelists,
such a prediction of an accidental circumstance might certainly be
conceived as the effect of a magnetic clairvoyance. [1593] But, on the
one hand, we know full well the tendency of the primitive Christian
legend to create such proofs of the superior nature of her Messiah
(witness the calling of the two pairs of brethren; but the instance
most analogous has been just alluded to, and is hereafter to be more
closely examined, namely, the manner in which Jesus causes the room to
be bespoken for his last supper with the twelve); on the other hand,
the dogmatic reasons drawn from prophecy, for displaying the far-seeing
of Jesus here as precisely the knowledge of an ass being tied at a
certain place, are clearly obvious; so that we cannot abstain from the
conjecture, that we have here nothing more than a product of the
tendency which characterized the Christian legend, and of the effort to
base Christian belief on ancient prophecy. In considering, namely, the
passage quoted in the first and fourth gospels from Zechariah, where it
is merely said that the meek and lowly king will come riding on an ass,
in general; it is usual to overlook another prophetic passage, which
contains more precisely the tied ass of the Messiah. This passage is
Gen. xlix. 11, where the dying Jacob says to Judah concerning the
Shiloh, ‏שׁילח‎, Binding his foal unto the vine, and his ass’s colt unto
the choice vine, δεσμεύων πρὸς ἄμπελον τὸν πῶλον αὐτοῦ καὶ τῇ ἕλικι τὸν
πῶλον τῆς ὄνου αὐτοῦ. Justin Martyr understands this passage also, as
well as the one from Zechariah, as a prediction relative to the
entrance of Jesus, and hence directly asserts that the foal which Jesus
caused to be fetched was bound to a vine. [1594] In like manner the
Jews not only held the general interpretation that the Shiloh was the
Messiah, as may be shown already in the Targum, [1595] but also
combined the passage relative to the binding of the ass with that on
the riding of it into Jerusalem. [1596] That the above prophecy of
Jacob is not cited by any one of our Evangelists, only proves, at the
utmost, that it was not verbally present to their minds when they were
writing the narrative before us: it can by no means prove that the
passage was not an element in the conceptions of the circle in which
the anecdote was first formed. The transmission of the narrative
through the hands of many who were not aware of its original relation
to the passage in Genesis, may certainly be argued from the fact that
it no longer perfectly corresponds to the prophecy. For a perfect
agreement to exist, Jesus, after he had, according to Zechariah, ridden
into the city on the ass, must on dismounting, have bound it to a vine,
instead of causing it to be unbound in the next village (according to
Mark, from a door by the way-side) as he actually does. By this means,
however, there was obtained, together with the fulfilment of those two
prophecies, a proof of the supernatural knowledge of Jesus, and the
magical power of his name; and in relation to the former point, it
might be remembered in particular, that Samuel also had once proved his
gifts as a seer by the prediction, that as Saul was returning homeward,
two men would meet him with the information that the asses of Kis his
father were found (1 Sam. x. 2). The narrative in the fourth gospel,
having no connection with the Mosaic passage, says nothing of the ass
being tied, or of its being fetched by the disciples, and merely states
with reference to the passage of Zechariah alone: Jesus, having found a
young ass, sat thereon (v. 14). [1597]

The next feature that presents itself for our consideration, is the
homage which is rendered to Jesus by the populace. According to all the
narrators except Luke, this consisted in cutting down the branches of
trees, which, according to the synoptists, were strewed in the way,
according to John (who with more particularity mentions palm branches),
were carried by the multitude that met Jesus; further, according to all
except John, in the spreading of clothes in the way. To this were added
joyous acclamations, of which all have, with unimportant modifications,
the words εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος ἐν ὀνόματι Κυρίου, Blessed be he that
cometh in the name of the Lord; all except Luke the ὡσαννὰ, Hosanna;
and all, the greeting as King, or Son of David. The first, from Ps.
cxviii. 26, ‏בָּרוּךְ הַבָּא בְּשֵׁם יְהוָֹה‎, was, it is true, a customary form of
salutation to persons visiting the feasts, and even the second, ‏חושִׁיעָה
נָּא‎, taken from the preceding verse of the same psalm, was a usual cry
at the feast of tabernacles and the passover; [1598] but the addition
τῷ υἱῷ Δαυὶδ, to the Son of David, and ὁ βασιλεὺς τοῦ Ἰσραὴλ, the King
of Israel, shows that the people here applied these general forms to
Jesus especially as the Messiah, bid him welcome in a pre-eminent
sense, and wished success to his undertaking. In relation to the
parties who present the homage, Luke’s account is the most
circumscribed, for he so connects the spreading of the clothes in the
way (v. 36) with the immediately preceding context, that he appears to
ascribe it, as well as the laying of the clothes on the ass, solely to
the disciples, and he expressly attributes the acclamations to the
whole multitude of the disciples only (ἅπαν τὸ πλῆθος τῶν μαθητῶν);
whereas Matthew and Mark make the homage proceed from the accompanying
mass of people. This difference, however, can be easily reconciled; for
when Luke speaks of the multitude of the disciples, πλῆθος τῶν μαθητῶν,
this means the wider circle of the adherents of Jesus, and, on the
other hand, the very great multitude πλεῖστος ὄχλος in Matthew, only
means all those who were favourable to him among the multitude. But
while the synoptists remain within the limits of the company who were
proceeding to the feast, and who were thus the fellow-travellers of
Jesus, John, as above noticed, makes the whole solemnity proceed from
those who go out of Jerusalem to meet Jesus (v. 13), while he
represents the multitude who are approaching with Jesus as testifying
to the former the resurrection of Lazarus, on account of which,
according to John, the solemn escort of Jesus into Jerusalem was
prepared (v. 17 f.). This cause we cannot admit as authentic, inasmuch
as we have found critical reasons for doubting the resurrection of
Lazarus: but with the alleged cause, the fact itself of the escort is
shaken; especially if we reflect, that the dignity of Jesus might
appear to demand that the inhabitants of the city of David should have
gone forth to bring him in with all solemnity, and that it fully
harmonizes with the prevailing characteristics of the representation of
the fourth gospel, to describe, before the arrival of Jesus at the
feast, how intently the expectations of the people were fixed upon him
(vii. 11 ff., xi. 56).

The last trait in the picture before us, is the displeasure of the
enemies of Jesus at the strong attachment to him, exhibited by the
people on this occasion. According to John (v. 19), the Pharisees said
to each other: we see from this that the (lenient) proceedings which we
have hitherto adopted are of no avail; all the world is following him
(we must interpose, with forcible measures). According to Luke (v. 39
f.), some Pharisees addressed Jesus as if they expected him to impose
silence on his disciples; on which he answers, that if these were
silent, the stones would cry out. While in Luke and John this happens
during the progress, in Matthew it is only after Jesus has arrived with
the procession in the temple, and when the children, even here,
continue to cry, Hosanna to the Son of David, that the high priests and
scribes direct the attention of Jesus to the impropriety, as it appears
to them, whereupon he repulses them with a sentence out of Ps. viii. 3.
(Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise)
(v. 15 f.); a sentence which in the original obviously relates to
Jehovah, but which Jesus thus applies to himself. The lamentation of
Jesus over Jerusalem, connected by Luke with the entrance, will come
under our consideration further on.

John, and more particularly Matthew by his phrase τοῦτο δὲ ὅλον
γέγονεν, ἵνα πληρωθῇ κ.τ.λ., All this was done that it might be
fulfilled, etc. (v. 4), unequivocally express the idea that the design,
first of God, inasmuch as he ordained this scene, and next of the
Messiah, as the participant in the Divine counsels, was, by giving this
character to the entrance, to fulfil an ancient prophecy. If Jesus saw
in the passage of Zechariah (ix. 9), [1599] a prophecy concerning
himself as the Messiah, this cannot have been a knowledge resulting
from the higher principle within him; for, even if this prophetic
passage ought not to be referred to an historical prince, as Uzziah,
[1600] or John Hyrcanus, [1601] but to a messianic individual, [1602]
still the latter, though a pacific, must yet be understood as a
temporal prince, and moreover as in peaceful possession of
Jerusalem—thus as one altogether different from Jesus. But it appears
quite possible for Jesus to have come to such an interpretation in a
natural way, since at least the rabbins with decided unanimity
interpret the passage of Zechariah of the Messiah. [1603] Above all, we
know that the contradiction which appeared to exist between the
insignificant advent here predicted of the Messiah, and the brilliant
one which Daniel had foretold, was at a later period commonly
reconciled by the doctrine, that according as the Jewish people showed
themselves worthy or the contrary, their Messiah would appear in a
majestic or a lowly form. [1604] Now even if this distinction did not
exist in the time of Jesus, but only in general a reference of the
passage Zech. ix. 9 to the Messiah: still Jesus might imagine that now,
on his first appearance, the prophecy of Zechariah must be fulfilled in
him, but hereafter, on his second appearance, the prophecy of Daniel.
But there is a third possibility; namely, that either an accidental
riding into Jerusalem on an ass by Jesus was subsequently interpreted
by the Christians in this manner, or that, lest any messianic attribute
should be wanting to him, the whole narrative of the entrance was
freely composed after the two prophecies and the dogmatic
presupposition of a superhuman knowledge on the part of Jesus.

THIRD PART.

HISTORY OF THE PASSION, DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS.

CHAPTER I.

RELATION OF JESUS TO THE IDEA OF A SUFFERING AND DYING MESSIAH; HIS
DISCOURSES ON HIS DEATH, RESURRECTION, AND SECOND ADVENT.

§ 111.

DID JESUS IN PRECISE TERMS PREDICT HIS PASSION AND DEATH?

According to the gospels, Jesus more than once, and while the result
was yet distant, [1605] predicted to his disciples that sufferings and
a violent death awaited him. Moreover, if we trust the synoptical
accounts, he did not predict his fate merely in general terms, but
specified beforehand the place of his passion, namely, Jerusalem; the
time, namely, the approaching passover; the persons from whom he would
have to suffer, namely, the chief priests, scribes and Gentiles; the
essential form of his passion, namely, crucifixion, in consequence of a
judicial sentence; and even its accessory circumstances, namely,
scourging, reviling, and spitting (Matt. xvi. 21, xvii. 12, 22 f., xx.
17 ff., xxvi. 12 with the parall., Luke xiii. 33). Between the
synoptists and the author of the fourth gospel, there exists a
threefold difference in relation to this subject. Firstly and chiefly,
in the latter the predictions of Jesus do not appear so clear and
intelligible, but are for the most part presented in obscure figurative
discourses, concerning which the narrator himself confesses that the
disciples understood them not until after the issue (ii. 22). In
addition to a decided declaration that he will voluntarily lay down his
life (x. 15 ff.), Jesus in this gospel is particularly fond of alluding
to his approaching death under the expressions ὑψοῦν, ὑψοῦσθαι, to lift
up, to be lifted up, in the application of which he seems to vacillate
between his exaltation on the cross, and his exaltation to glory (iii.
14, viii. 28, xii. 32); he compares his approaching exaltation with
that of the brazen serpent in the wilderness (iii. 14), as, in Matthew,
he compares his fate with that of Jonah (xii. 40); on another occasion,
he speaks of going away whither no man can follow him (vii. 33 ff.,
viii. 21 f.), as, in the synoptists, of a taking away of a bridegroom,
which will plunge his friends into mourning (Matt. ix. 15 parall.), and
of a cup, which he must drink, and which his disciples will find it
hard to partake of with him (Matt. xx. 22 parall.). The two other
differences are less marked, but are still observable. One of them is,
that while in John the allusions to the violent death of Jesus run in
an equal degree through the whole gospel; in the synoptists, the
repeated and definite announcements of his death are found only towards
the end, partly immediately before, partly during, the last journey; in
earlier chapters there occurs, with the exception of the obscure
discourse on the sign of Jonah (which we shall soon see to be no
prediction of death), only the intimation of a removal (doubtless
violent) of the bridegroom. The last difference is, that while
according to the three first Evangelists, Jesus imparts those
predictions (again with the single exception of the above intimation,
Matt. ix. 15) only to the confidential circle of his disciples; in
John, he utters them in the presence of the people, and even of his
enemies.

In the critical investigation of these evangelical accounts, we shall
proceed from the special to the general, in the following manner. First
we shall ask: Is it credible that Jesus had a foreknowledge of so many
particular features of the fate which awaited him? and next: Is even a
general foreknowledge and prediction of his sufferings, on the part of
Jesus, probable? in which inquiry, the difference between the
representation of John and that of the synoptists, will necessarily
come under our consideration.

There are two modes of explaining how Jesus could so precisely foreknow
the particular circumstances of his passion and death; the one resting
on a supernatural, the other on a natural basis. The former appears
adequate to solve the problem by the simple position, that before the
prophetic spirit, which dwelt in Jesus in the richest plenitude, his
destiny must have lain unfolded from the beginning. As, however, Jesus
himself, in his announcements of his sufferings, expressly appealed to
the Old Testament, the prophecies of which concerning him must be
fulfilled in all points (Luke xviii. 31, comp. xxii. 37, xxiv. 25 ff.;
Matt. xxvi. 54): so the orthodox view ought not to despise this help,
but must give to its explanation the modification, that Jesus
continually occupied with the prophecies of the Old Testament, may have
drawn those particularities out of them, by the aid of the spirit that
dwelt within him. [1606] According to this, while the knowledge of the
time of his passion remains consigned to his prophetic presentiment,
unless he be supposed to have calculated this out of Daniel, or some
similar source; Jesus must have come to regard Jerusalem as the scene
of his suffering and death, by contemplating the fate of earlier
prophets as a type of his own, the Spirit telling him, that where so
many prophets had suffered death, there, à fortiori, must the Messiah
also suffer (Luke xiii. 33); that his death would be the sequel of a
formal sentence, he must have gathered from Isa. liii. 8, where a
judgment ‏מִשְׁפִּט‎ is spoken of as impending over the servant of God, and
from v. 12, where it is said that he was numbered with the
transgressors, ἐν τοῖς ἀνόμοις ἐλογίσθη (comp. Luke xxii. 37); that his
sentence would proceed from the rulers of his own people, he might
perhaps have concluded from Ps. cxviii. 22, where the builders,
αἰκοδομοῦντες who reject the corner-stone, are, according to apostolic
interpretation (Acts iv. 11), the Jewish rulers; that he would be
delivered to the Gentiles, he might infer from the fact, that in
several plaintive psalms, which are susceptible of a messianic
interpretation, the persecuting parties are represented as ‏רְשָׁעִים‎,
i.e. heathens; that the precise manner of his death would be
crucifixion, he might have deduced, partly from the type of the brazen
serpent which was suspended on a pole, Num. xxi. 8 f. (comp. John iii.
14), partly from the piercing of the hands and feet, Ps. xxii. 17,
LXX.; lastly, that he would be the object of scorn and personal
maltreatment, he might have concluded from passages such as v. 7 ff. in
the Psalm above quoted, Isa. l. 6, etc. Now if the spirit which dwelt
in Jesus, and which, according to the orthodox opinion, revealed to him
the reference of these prophecies and types to his ultimate destiny,
was a spirit of truth: this reference to Jesus must admit of being
proved to be the true and original sense of those Old Testament
passages. But, to confine ourselves to the principal passages only, a
profound grammatical and historical exposition has convincingly shown,
for all who are in a condition to liberate themselves from dogmatic
presuppositions, that in none of these is there any allusion to the
sufferings of Christ. Instead of this, Isa. l. 6, speaks of the ill
usage which the prophets had to experience; [1607] Isa. liii. of the
calamities of the prophetic order, or more probably of the Israelitish
people; [1608] Ps. cxviii. of the unexpected deliverance and exaltation
of that people, or of one of their princes; [1609] while Ps. xxii. is
the complaint of an oppressed exile. [1610] As to the 17th verse of
this Psalm, which has been interpreted as having reference to the
crucifixion of Christ, even presupposing the most improbable
interpretation of ‏כארי‎ by perfoderunt, this must in no case be
understood literally, but only figuratively, and the image would be
derived, not from a crucifixion, but from a chase, or a combat with
wild beasts; [1611] hence the application of this passage to Christ is
now only maintained by those with whom it would be lost labour to
contend. According to the orthodox view, however, Jesus, in a
supernatural manner, by means of his higher nature, discovered in these
passages a pre-intimation of the particular features of his passion;
but, in that case, since such is not the true sense of these passages,
the spirit that dwelt in Jesus cannot have been the spirit of truth,
but a lying spirit. Thus the orthodox expositor, so far as he does not
exclude himself from the light dispensed by an unprejudiced
interpretation of the Old Testament, is driven, for the sake of his own
interest, to adopt the natural opinion; namely, that Jesus was led to
such an interpretation of Old Testament passages, not by divine
inspiration, but by a combination of his own.

According to this opinion, [1612] there was no difficulty in foreseeing
that it would be the ruling sacerdotal party to which Jesus must
succumb, since, on the one hand, it was pre-eminently embittered
against Jesus, on the other, it was in possession of the necessary
power; and equally obvious was it that they would make Jerusalem the
theatre of his judgment and execution, since this was the centre of
their strength; that after being sentenced by the rulers of his people,
he would be delivered to the Romans for execution, followed from the
limitation of the Jewish judicial power at that period; that
crucifixion was the death to which he would be sentenced, might be
conjectured from the fact that with the Romans this species of death
was a customary infliction, especially on rebels; lastly, that
scourging and reviling would not be wanting, might likewise be inferred
from Roman custom, and the barbarity of judicial proceedings in that
age.—But viewing the subject more nearly, how could Jesus so certainly
know that Herod, who had directed a threatening attention to his
movements (Luke xiii. 31), would not forestall the sacerdotal party,
and add to the murder of the Baptist, that of his more important
follower? And even if he felt himself warranted in believing that real
danger threatened him from the side of the hierarchy only (Luke xiii.
33); what was his guarantee that one of their tumultuary attempts to
murder him would not at last succeed (comp. John viii. 39, x. 31), and
that he would not, as Stephen did at a later period, without any
further formalities, and without a previous delivery to the Romans,
find his death in quite another manner than by the Roman punishment of
crucifixion? Lastly, how could he so confidently assert that the very
next plot of his enemies, after so many failures, would be successful,
and that the very next journey to the passover would be his last?—But
the natural explanation also can call to its aid the Old Testament
passages, and say: Jesus, whether by the application of a mode of
interpretation then current among his countrymen, or under the guidance
of his own individual views, gathered from the passages already quoted,
a precise idea of the circumstances attendant on the violent end which
awaited him as the Messiah. [1613] But if in the first place it would
be difficult to prove, that already in the lifetime of Jesus all these
various passages were referred to the Messiah; and if it be equally
difficult to conceive that Jesus could independently, prior to the
issue, discover such a reference; so it would be a case
undistinguishable from a miracle, if the result had actually
corresponded to so false an interpretation; moreover, the Old Testament
oracles and types will not suffice to explain all the particular
features in the predictions of Jesus, especially the precise
determination of time.

If then Jesus cannot have had so precise a foreknowledge of the
circumstances of his passion and death, either in a supernatural or a
natural way: he cannot have had such a foreknowledge at all: and the
minute predictions which the Evangelists put into his mouth must be
regarded as a vaticinium post eventum. [1614] Commentators who have
arrived at this conclusion, have not failed to extol the account of
John, in opposition to that of the synoptists, on the ground that
precisely those traits in the predictions of Jesus which, from their
special character, he cannot have uttered, are only found in the
synoptists, while John attributes to Jesus no more than indefinite
intimations, and distinguishes these from his own interpretation, made
after the issue; a plain proof that in his gospel alone we have the
discourses of Jesus unfalsified, and in their original form. [1615]
But, regarded more nearly, the case does not stand so that the fourth
Evangelist can only be taxed with putting an erroneous interpretation
on the otherwise unfalsified declarations of Jesus: for in one passage,
at least, he has put into his mouth an expression which, obscurely, it
is true, but still unmistakably, determines the manner of his death as
crucifixion; and consequently, he has here altered the words of Jesus
to correspond with the result. We refer to the expression ὑψωθῆναι, to
be lifted up: in those passages of the fourth gospel where Jesus speaks
in a passive sense of the Son of Man being lifted up, this expression
might possibly mean his exaltation to glory, although in iii. 14, from
the comparison with the serpent in the wilderness, which was well known
to have been elevated on a pole, even this becomes a difficulty; but
when, as in viii. 28, he represents the exaltation of the Son of Man as
the act of his enemies (ὅταν ὑψώσητε τὸν υἱὸν τ. ἀ.), it is obvious
that these could not lift him up immediately to glory, but only to the
cross; consequently, if the result above stated be admitted as valid,
John must himself have framed this expression, or at least have
distorted the Aramæan words of Jesus, and hence he essentially falls
under the same category with the synoptical writers. That the fourth
Evangelist, though the passion and death of Jesus were to him past
events, and therefore clearly present to his mind, nevertheless makes
Jesus predict them in obscure expressions,—this has its foundation in
the entire manner of this writer, whose fondness for the enigmatical
and mysterious here happily met the requirement, to give an
unintelligible form to prophecies which were not understood.

There were sufficient inducements for the Christian legend thus to put
into the mouth of Jesus, after the event, a prediction of the
particular features of his passion, especially of the ignominious
crucifixion. The more the Christ crucified became to the Jews a
stumbling-block, and to the Greeks foolishness (1 Cor. i. 23), the more
need was there to remove this offence by every possible means; and as,
among subsequent events, the resurrection especially served as a
retrospective cancelling of that shameful death; so it must have been
earnestly desired to take the sting from that offensive catastrophe
beforehand also, and this could not be done more effectually than by
such a minute prediction. For as the most unimportant fact, when
prophetically announced, gains importance, by thus being made a link in
the chain of a higher knowledge: so the most ignominious fate, when it
is predicted as part of a divine plan of salvation, ceases to be
ignominious; above all, when the very person over whom such a fate
impends, also possesses the prophetic spirit, which enables him to
foresee and foretell it, and thus not only suffers, but participates in
the divine prescience of his sufferings, he manifests himself as the
ideal power over those suffering. But the fourth Evangelist has gone
still farther on this track; he believes it due to the honour of Jesus
to represent him as also the real power over his sufferings, as not
having his life taken away by the violence of others, but as resigning
it voluntarily (x. 17 f.): a representation which indeed already finds
some countenance in Matt. xxvi. 53, where Jesus asserts the possibility
of praying to the Father for legions of angels, in order to avert his
sufferings.

§ 112.

THE PREDICTIONS OF JESUS CONCERNING HIS DEATH IN GENERAL; THEIR
RELATION TO THE JEWISH IDEA OF THE MESSIAH: DECLARATIONS OF JESUS
CONCERNING THE OBJECT AND EFFECTS OF HIS DEATH.

If in this manner we subtract from the declarations of Jesus concerning
his approaching fate, attributed to him in the gospels, all which
regards the particular circumstances of this catastrophe; there still
remains on the part of Jesus the general announcement, that suffering
and death awaited him, and also that this part of his career was a
fulfilment of the Old Testament prophecies relative to the Messiah. As,
however, the principal passages cited from the Old Testament, which
treat of suffering and death, are only by mistake referred to the
Messiah, while others, as Dan. ix. 26; Zech. xii. 10, have not this
signification: [1616] the orthodox, above all, must again beware of
attributing so false an interpretation of these prophecies, to the
supernatural principle in Jesus. That instead of this, Jesus might
possibly, by a purely natural combination, have educed the general
result, that since he had made the hierarchy of his nation his
implacable enemies, he had, in so far as he was resolved not to swerve
from the path of his destination, the worst to fear from their revenge
and authority (John x. 11 ff.); that from the fate of former prophets
(Matt. v. 12, xxi. 33 ff.; Luke xiii. 33 f.), and isolated passages
bearing such an interpretation, he might prognosticate a similar end to
his own career, and accordingly predict to his followers that earlier
or later a violent death awaited him—this it would be a needless
overstraining of the supranaturalistic view any longer to deny, and the
rational mode of considering the subject should be admitted. [1617]

It may appear surprising if, after this admission, we still put the
question, whether, according to the New Testament representation, it be
probable that Jesus actually uttered such a prediction? since,
certainly, a general announcement of his violent death is the least
which the evangelical accounts appear to contain, but our meaning in
the question is this: is the sequel, especially the conduct of the
disciples, so described in the gospels, as to be reconcilable with a
prior disclosure of Jesus relative to the sufferings which awaited him?
Now the express statements of the Evangelists do not merely tend to
show that the disciples did not understand the discourses of Jesus on
his coming death, in the sense that they did not know how to adjust
these facts in their own minds, or to make them tally with their
preconceived ideas concerning the Messiah,—a difficulty which drew from
Peter the first time that Jesus announced his death, the exclamation:
Be it far from thee, Lord, this shall not be unto thee;—for we find the
words of Mark (ix. 32), But they understood not that saying, οἱ δὲ
ἠγνόουν τὸ ρῆμα, thus amplified in Luke: and it was hid from them, that
they perceived it not, καί ἠν παρακεκαλυμμένον ἀπ’ αὐτῶν ἵνα μὴ
αἴσθωνται αὐτό (ix. 45); and the latter Evangelist on another occasion
says: and they understood none of these things, and this saying was hid
from them, neither knew they the things that were spoken, καὶ αὐτοὶ
οὐδὲν τούτων συνῆκαν, καὶ ἠν τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦτο κεκρυμμένον ἀπ’ αὐτων, καὶ
οὐκ ἐγίνωσκον τὰ λεγόμενα (xviii. 34): expressions which appear to
imply that the disciples absolutely did not understand what the words
of Jesus meant. In accordance with this, the condemnation and execution
of Jesus fall upon them as a blow for which they are entirely
unprepared, and consequently annihilate all the hopes which they had
fixed on him as the Messiah (Luke xxiv. 20 f., The chief priests and
our rulers have crucified him. But we trusted that it had been he which
should have redeemed Israel). But had Jesus spoken of his death to the
disciples with such perfect openness (παῤῥησίᾳ, Mark viii. 32), they
must necessarily have understood his clear words and detailed
discourses, and had he besides shown them that his death was
foreshadowed in the messianic prophecies of the Old Testament, and was
consequently a part of the Messiah’s destination (Luke xviii. 31, xxii.
37), they could not, when his death actually ensued, have so entirely
lost all belief in his messiahship. It is true that the Wolfenbüttel
Fragmentist is wrong in his attempt to show in the conduct of Jesus, as
described by the Evangelists, indications that his death was unexpected
even to himself; but, looking merely at the conduct of the disciples,
it is difficult to avoid the conclusion which that writer draws,
namely, that to judge by that conduct, Jesus cannot have made any
antecedent disclosure to his disciples concerning his death; on the
contrary, they appear to the very last moment to have held the common
opinion on this matter, and only to have adopted the characteristics of
suffering and death into their conception of the Messiah, after the
death of Jesus had unexpectedly come upon them. [1618] At all events we
have before us the following dilemma: either the statements of the
Evangelists as to the inability of the disciples to understand the
predictions of Jesus, and their surprise at his death, are
unhistorically exaggerated; or the decided declarations of Jesus
concerning the death which awaited him, were composed ex eventu, nay,
it becomes doubtful whether he even in general predicted his death as a
part of his messianic destiny. On both sides, the legend might be led
into unhistorical representations. For the fabrication of a prediction
of his death in general, there were the same reasons which we have
above shown to be an adequate motive for attributing to him a
prognostication of the particular features of his passion: to the
fiction of so total a want of comprehension in the disciples, an
inducement might be found, on the one hand, in the desire to exhibit
the profoundness of the mystery of a suffering Messiah revealed by
Jesus, through the inability of the disciples to understand it; on the
other, in the fact that in the evangelical tradition the disciples were
likened to unconverted Jews and heathens, to whom anything was more
intelligible than the death of the Messiah.

In order to decide between these alternatives, we must first examine
whether, prior to the death of Jesus, and independently of that event,
the messianic ideas of the age included the characteristics of
suffering and death. If already in the lifetime of Jesus it was the
Jewish opinion that the Messiah must die a violent death, then it is
highly probable that Jesus imbibed this idea as a part of his
convictions, and communicated it to his disciples; who, in that case,
could so much the less have remained uninstructed on this point, and
overwhelmed by the actual result, in the degree alleged by the
Evangelists. If, on the contrary, that idea was not diffused among his
countrymen before the death of Jesus, it still remains possible that
Jesus might arrive at that idea by his private reflection; but it is a
prior possibility that the disciples were the first to adopt the
characteristics of suffering and death into their conception of the
Messiah, after they had been taught by the issue.

The question whether the idea of a suffering and dying Messiah was
already diffused among the Jews in the time of Jesus, is one of the
most difficult points of discussion among theologians, and one
concerning which they are the least agreed. And the difficulty of the
question does not lie in the interests of party, so that it might be
hoped that with the rise of impartial investigation, the subject would
cease to be perplexed; for, as Stäudlin has aptly shown, [1619] both
the orthodox and the rationalistic interest may alternately tend in
each direction, and we in fact find theologians of both parties on both
sides. [1620] The difficulty lies in the deficiency of information, and
in the uncertainty of that which we do possess. If the Old Testament
contained the doctrine of a suffering and dying Messiah, it might
certainly thence be inferred with more than mere probability, that this
doctrine existed among the Jews in the time of Jesus: as, however,
according to the most recent researches, the Old Testament, while it
does indeed contain the doctrine of an expiation of the sins of the
people to take place at the messianic era (Ezek. xxxvi. 25, xxxvii. 23;
Zech. xiii. 1; Dan. ix. 24), has no trace of this expiation being
effected by the suffering and death of the Messiah [1621]: there is no
decision of the question before us to be expected from this quarter.
The apocryphal books of the Old Testament lie nearer to the time of
Jesus; but as these are altogether silent concerning the Messiah in
general, [1622] there can be no discussion as to their containing that
special feature. Again, if we turn to Philo and Josephus, the two
authors who wrote soonest after the period in question, we find the
latter silent as to the messianic hopes of his nation; [1623] and
though the former does indeed speak of messianic times, and a
messiah-like hero, he says nothing of sufferings on his part. [1624]
Thus there remain, as sources of information on this point, only the
New Testament and the later Jewish writings.

In the New Testament, almost everything is calculated to give the
impression, that a suffering and dying Messiah was unthought-of among
the Jews who were contemporary with Jesus. To the majority of the Jews,
we are told, the doctrine of a crucified Messiah was a σκανδαλὸν, and
the disciples were at a loss to understand Jesus in his repeated and
explicit announcements of his death. This does not look as if the
doctrine of a suffering Messiah had been current among the Jews of that
period; on the contrary, these circumstances accord fully with the
declaration which the fourth Evangelist puts into the mouth of the
Jewish multitude, ὄχλος (xii. 34), namely, that they had heard in the
law (νόμος) that Christ abideth for ever, ὅτι ὁ Χριστὸς μένει εἰς τὸν
αἰῶνα. [1625] Indeed, for a general acceptation of the idea of a
suffering Messiah among the Jews of that period, even those theologians
who take the affirmative side in this argument do not contend; but,
admitting that the hope of a worldly Messiah whose reign was to endure
for ever, was the prevalent one, they only maintain (and herein the
Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist agrees with them) [1626], that a less numerous
party,—according to Stäudlin, the Essenes; according to Hengstenberg,
the better and more enlightened part of the people in general—held the
belief that the Messiah would appear in a humble guise, and only enter
into glory through suffering and death. In support of this they appeal
especially to two passages; one out of the third, and one out of the
fourth gospel. When Jesus is presented as an infant in the temple at
Jerusalem, the aged Simeon, among other prophecies, particularly
concerning the opposition which her son would have to encounter, says
to Mary: Yea, a sword shall pierce through thine own soul also (Luke
ii. 35); words which seem to describe her maternal sorrow at the death
of her son, and consequently to represent the opinion, that a violent
death awaited the Messiah, as one already current before Christ. Still
more plainly is the idea of a suffering Messiah contained in the words
which the fourth gospel makes the Baptist utter on seeing Jesus: Behold
the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world (i. 29)! This,
viewed in its relation to Isa. liii., would in the mouth of the Baptist
likewise tend to prove, that the idea of expiatory suffering on the
part of the Messiah was in existence before the time of Jesus. But both
these passages have been above shown to be unhistorical, and from the
fact that the primitive Christian legend was led, a considerable time
after the issue, to attribute to persons whom it held divinely
inspired, a foreknowledge of the divine decree with respect to the
death of Jesus, it can by no means be concluded, that this insight
really existed prior to the death of Jesus. In conclusion, it is urged,
that at least the Evangelists and apostles refer to the idea of a
suffering and dying Messiah in the Old Testament; whence it is thought
warrantable to conclude, that this interpretation of the Old Testament
passages connected with our present subject, was not unprecedented
among the Jews. Certainly Peter (Acts iii. 18 f.; 1 Pet. i. 11 f.) and
Paul (Acts xxvi. 22 f.; 1 Cor. xv. 3) appeal to Moses and the prophets
as annunciators of the death of Jesus, and Philip, in his interview
with the Ethiopian eunuch, interprets a passage in Isa. liii. of the
sufferings of the Messiah: but as those teachers of the church spoke
and wrote all this after the event, we have no assurance that they did
not assign to certain Old Testament passages a relation to the
sufferings of the Messiah, solely in consequence of that event, and not
by adopting a mode of interpretation previously current among their
Jewish cotemporaries. [1627]

If, according to this, the opinion that the idea in question already
existed among the countrymen of Jesus during his lifetime, has no solid
foundation in the New Testament; we must proceed to inquire whether
that idea may not be found in the later Jewish writings. Among the
earliest writings of this class now extant, are the Chaldee paraphrases
of Onkelos and Jonathan; and the Targum of the latter, who, according
to rabbinical tradition, was a pupil of Hillel the elder, [1628] is
commonly cited as presenting the idea of a suffering Messiah, because
it refers the passage, Isa. lii. 13-liii. 12, to the Messiah. But with
respect to the interpretation of this passage in the Targum of
Jonathan, it is the singular fact, that while the prophecies which it
contains are in general interpreted messianically, yet so often as
suffering and death are spoken of, either these ideas are avoided with
marked design, and for the most part by some extremely forced
expedient, or are transferred to a different subject, namely, the
people of Israel: a significant proof that to the author, suffering and
violent death appeared irreconcilable with the idea of the Messiah.
[1629] But this, we are told, is the commencement of that aberration
from the true sense of the sacred text, into which the later Jews were
seduced by their carnal disposition, and their hostility to
Christianity: the more ancient interpreters, it is said, discovered in
this passage of Isaiah a suffering and dying Messiah. It is true that
Abenezra, Abarbanel and others, testify that many ancient teachers
referred Isa. liii. to the Messiah: [1630] but some of their statements
leave it by no means clear that those more ancient interpretations are
not as partial as that of Jonathan; and in relation to all of them it
remains uncertain, whether the interpreters of whom they speak reach as
far back as the age of Jonathan, which is highly improbable with
respect to those parts of the book Sohar, wherein the passage in
question is referred to a suffering Messiah. [1631] The writing which,
together with that of Jonathan, may be regarded as the nearest to the
time of Jesus, namely, the apocryphal fourth book of Esdras, drawn up,
according to the most probable computation, shortly after the
destruction of Jerusalem under Titus, [1632] does indeed mention the
death of the Messiah: not however as a painful one, but only as a death
which, after the long duration of the messianic kingdom, was to precede
the general resurrection. [1633] The idea of great calamities, the
birth-throes, as it were, of the Messiah (‏חבלי המשח‎, comp. ἀρχὴ
ὠδίνων, Matt. xxiv. 8), which would usher in the messianic times, was
undoubtedly disseminated before Christ; [1634] and equally early there
appears to have been placed in the front of these ills, which were to
press upon the people of Israel in particular, the Antichrist,
ἀντίχριστος, whom the Christ, Χριστὸς would have to oppose (2 Thess.
ii. 3 ff.): [1635] but since he was to annihilate this adversary in a
supernatural manner, with the spirit of his mouth, τῷ πνεύματι τοῦ
στόματος αὑτοῦ, this involved no suffering for the Messiah.
Nevertheless, there are to be found passages in which a suffering of
the Messiah is spoken of, and in which this suffering is even
represented as vicarious, on behalf of the people: [1636] but first,
this is only a suffering, and no death of the Messiah; secondly, it
befals him either before his descent into earthly life, in his
pre-existence, [1637] or during the concealment in which he keeps
himself from his birth until his appearance as Messiah: [1638] lastly,
the antiquity of these ideas is doubtful, and according to certain
indications, they could only be dated after the destruction of the
Jewish state by Titus. [1639] Meanwhile, Jewish writings are by no
means destitute of passages, in which it is directly asserted that a
Messiah would perish in a violent manner: but these passages relate,
not to the proper Messiah, the offspring of David, but to another, from
among the posterity of Joseph and Ephraim, who was appointed to hold a
subordinate position in relation to the former. This Messiah ben Joseph
was to precede the Messiah ben David, to unite the ten tribes of the
former kingdom of Israel with the two tribes of the kingdom of Judah,
but after this to perish by the sword in the battle with Gog and Magog:
a catastrophe to which Zech. xii. 10 was referred. [1640] But of this
second, dying Messiah, any certain traces are wanting before the
Babylonian Gemara, which was compiled in the fifth and sixth centuries
after Christ, and the book Sohar, the age of which is extremely
doubtful. [1641]

Although, according to this, it cannot be proved, and is even not
probable, that the idea of a suffering Messiah already existed among
the Jews in the time of Jesus: it is still possible that, even without
such a precedent, Jesus himself, by an observation of circumstances,
and a comparison of them with Old Testament narratives and prophecies,
might come to entertain the belief that suffering and death were a part
of the office and destination of the Messiah; and if so, it would be
more natural that he should embrace this conviction gradually in the
course of his public ministry, and that he should chiefly have confined
his communications on the subject to his intimate friends, than that he
should have had this conviction from the beginning, and have expressed
it before indifferent persons, nay enemies. The latter is the
representation of John; the former, of the synoptists.

In relation also to the declarations of Jesus concerning the object and
effects of his death, we can, as above in relation to the announcement
of the death itself, distinguish a more natural, from a more
supranatural point of view. When Jesus in the fourth gospel likens
himself to the true shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep (x.
11, 15): this may have the perfectly natural sense, that he is
determined not to swerve from his office of shepherd and teacher, even
though, in the prosecution of it, death should threaten him (the moral
necessity of his death); [1642] the foreboding expression in the same
gospel (xii. 24), that except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and
die, it abideth alone, but if it die it bringeth forth much fruit,
admits of an equally rational explanation, as a figurative
representation of the victorious power which martyrdom gives to an idea
and conviction (the moral efficacy of his death); [1643] lastly, that
which is so often repeated in the Gospel of John,—namely, that it is
good for the disciples that Jesus should go away, for without his
departure the comforter, παράκλητος will not come to them, who will
glorify him in them,—may be supposed to express the perfectly natural
consideration of Jesus, that without the removal of his sensible
presence, the hitherto so material ideas of his disciples would not be
spiritualized (the psychological efficacy of his death). [1644] The
words of Jesus at the institution of the sacramental supper, belong
more to the supranaturalistic mode of view. For if that which the
intermediate Evangelists make him say on this occasion—that the cup
presented is the blood of the new testament, τὸ αἷμα τῆς καινῆς
διαθήκης (Mark xiv. 24), and the new testament in his blood, ἡ καινὴ
διαθήκη ἐν τῷ αἵματι αὐτοῦ (Luke xxii. 20),—might appear to signify no
more than that, as by the bloody sacrifice at Sinai was sealed the
covenant of this ancient people with God, so by his (the Messiah’s)
blood would be sealed in a higher sense the community of the new
covenant, gathering round him: in the account of Matthew, on the
contrary, when he makes Jesus add, that his blood will be shed for many
for the remission of sins, εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν, the idea of the
covenant sacrifice is blended with that of expiatory sacrifice: and
also in the two other Evangelists by the addition: which is shed for
many, or for you, τὸ περὶ πολλῶν, ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν ἐκχυνόμενον, the transition
is made from the covenant sacrifice to the expiatory sacrifice.
Further, when in the first gospel (xx. 28) Jesus says, he must give his
life a ransom for many, δοῦναι τὴν ψυχὴν αὑτοῦ λύτρον ἀντὶ πολλῶν, this
is doubtless to be referred to Isa. liii., where, according to a notion
current among the Hebrews (Isa. xliii. 3; Prov. xxi. 18), the death of
the servant of God is supposed to have a propitiatory relation to the
rest of mankind.

Thus Jesus might by psychological reflection come to the conviction
that such a catastrophe would be favourable to the spiritual
development of his disciples, and that it was indispensable for the
spiritualizing of their messianic ideas, nay, in accordance with
national conceptions, and by a consideration of Old Testament passages,
even to the idea that his messianic death would have an expiatory
efficacy. Still, what the synoptists make Jesus say of his death, as a
sin offering, might especially appear to belong rather to the system
which was developed after the death of Jesus; and what the fourth
Evangelist puts into his mouth concerning the Paraclete, to have been
conceived ex eventu: so that, again, in these expressions of Jesus
concerning the object of his death, there must be a separation of the
general from the special.

§ 113.

PRECISE DECLARATIONS OF JESUS CONCERNING HIS FUTURE RESURRECTION.

According to the evangelical accounts, Jesus predicted his resurrection
in words not less clear than those in which he announced his death, and
also fixed the time of its occurrence with singular precision. As often
as he said to his disciples, the Son of Man will be crucified, he
added: And the third day he shall rise again, καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ
ἀναστήσεται, or ἐγερθήσεται (Matt. xvi. 21, xvii. 23, xx. 19 parall.
comp. xvii. 9, xxvi. 32 parall.).

But of this announcement also it is said, that the disciples understood
it not; so little, that they even debated among themselves what the
rising from the dead should mean, τί ἐστι τὸ ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῆναι (Mark
ix. 10); and in consistency with this want of comprehension, they,
after the death of Jesus, exhibit no trace of a recollection that his
resurrection had been foretold to them, no spark of hope that this
prediction would be fulfilled. When the friends of Jesus had taken down
his body from the cross, and laid it in the grave, they undertook (John
xix. 40)—or the women reserved to themselves (Mark xvi. 1; Luke xxiii.
56)—the task of embalming him, which is only performed in the case of
those who are regarded as the prey of corruption; when, on the morning
which, according to the mode of reckoning in the New Testament, opened
the day which had been predetermined as that of the resurrection, the
women went to the grave, they were so far from thinking of a predicted
resurrection, that they were anxious about the probable difficulty of
rolling away the stone from the grave (Mark xvi. 3); when Mary
Magdalene, and afterwards Peter, found the grave empty, their first
thought, had the resurrection been predicted, must have been, that it
had now actually taken place: instead of this, the former conjectures
that the body may have been stolen (John xx. 2), while Peter merely
wonders, without coming to any definite conjecture (Luke xxiv. 12);
when the women told the disciples of the angelic apparition which they
had witnessed, and discharged the commission given them by the angel,
the disciples partly regarded their words as idle tales, λῆρος (Luke
xxiv. 11), and were partly moved to fear and astonishment (ἐξέστησαν
ἡμᾶς, Luke xxiv. 22 ff.); when Mary Magdalene, and subsequently the
disciples going to Emmaus, assured the eleven, that they had themselves
seen the risen one, they met with no credence (Mark xvi. 11, 13), and
Thomas still later did not believe even the assurance of his
fellow-apostles (John xx. 25); lastly, when Jesus himself appeared to
the disciples in Galilee, all of them did not even then cast off doubt
(οἱ δὲ ἐδίστασαν, Mark xxviii. 17). All this we must, with the
Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, [1645] find incomprehensible, if Jesus had so
clearly and decidedly predicted his resurrection.

It is true, that as the conduct of the disciples, after the death of
Jesus, speaks against such a prediction on the part of Jesus, so the
conduct of his enemies appears to speak for it. For when, according to
Matt. xxvii. 62 ff., the chief priests and Pharisees entreat Pilate to
set a watch at the grave of Jesus, they allege as a reason for their
request, that Jesus while yet alive had said: After three days I will
rise again, μετὰ τρεῖς ἡμέρας ἐγείπομαι. But this narrative of the
first gospel, which we can only estimate at a future point in our
investigation, at present decides nothing, but only falls to one side
of the dilemma, so that we must now say: if the disciples really so
acted after the death of Jesus, then neither can he have decidedly
foretold his resurrection, nor can the Jews in consideration of such a
prediction have placed a watch at his grave; or, if the two latter
statements be true, the disciples cannot have so acted.

It has been attempted to blunt the edge of this dilemma, by attributing
to the above predictions, not the literal sense, that the deceased
Jesus would return out of the grave, but only the figurative sense that
his doctrine and cause, after having been apparently crushed, would
again expand and flourish. [1646] As the Old Testament prophets, it was
said, represent the restoration of the Israelitish people to renewed
prosperity, under the image of a resurrection from the dead (Isa. xxvi.
19; Ezek. xxxvii.); as they mark the short interval within which, under
certain conditions, this turn of things was to be expected, by the
expression: in two or three days will Jehovah revive the smitten one,
and raise the dead (Hos. vi. 2), [1647] a statement of time which Jesus
also uses indefinitely for a short interval (Luke xiii. 32): so by the
declaration that he will rise on the third day after his death, τῇ
τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ ἀναστῆναι, he intends to say no more than that even though
he may succumb to the power of his enemies and be put to death, still
the work which he has begun will not come to an end, but will in a
short time go forward with a fresh impetus. These merely figurative
modes of speaking adopted by Jesus, the apostles, after Jesus had
actually risen in the body, understood literally, and regarded them as
prophecies of his personal resurrection. Now that in the prophetic
passages adduced, the expressions ‏קוּם חָיָה‎ and ‏הֵקִיץ‎ have only the
alleged figurative sense, is true; but these are passages the whole
tenor of which is figurative, and in which, in particular, the
depression and death which precede the revivification are themselves to
be understood only in a figurative sense. Here, on the contrary, all
the foregoing expressions: παραδίδοσθαι, κατακρίνεσθαι, σταυροῦσθαι,
ἀποκτείνεσθαι κ.τ.λ. (to be delivered, condemned, crucified, killed,
etc.) are to be understood literally; hence all at once, with the words
ἐγερθῆναι and ἀναστῆναι, to enter on a figurative meaning, would be an
unprecedented abruptness of transition; not to mention that passages
such as Matt. xxvi. 32, where Jesus says: After I am risen again I will
go before you into Galilee, μετὰ τὸ ἐγερθηναί με προάξω ὑμᾶς εἰς τὴν
Γαλιλαίαν, can have no meaning at all unless ἐγείρεσθαι be understood
literally. In this closely consecutive series of expressions, which
must be taken in a purely literal sense, there is then no warrant, and
even no inducement, to understand the statement of time which is
connected with them, otherwise than also literally, and in its strictly
etymological meaning. Thus if Jesus really used these words, and in the
same connexion in which they are given by the Evangelists, he cannot
have meant to announce by them merely the speedy victory of his cause;
his meaning must have been, that he himself would return to life in
three days after his violent death. [1648]

As however Jesus, judging from the conduct of his disciples after his
death, cannot have announced his resurrection in plain words: other
commentators have resigned themselves to the admission, that the
Evangelists, after the issue, gave to the discourses of Jesus a
definiteness which, as uttered by him, they did not possess; that they
have not merely understood literally, what Jesus intended figuratively,
of the revival of his cause after his death, but in accordance with
their erroneous interpretation, have so modified his words that, as we
now read them, we must certainly understand them in a literal sense;
[1649] yet that not all the discourses of Jesus are altered in this
manner; here and there his original expressions still remain.

§ 114.

FIGURATIVE DISCOURSES, IN WHICH JESUS IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE ANNOUNCED HIS
RESURRECTION.

According to the fourth gospel, Jesus, at the very commencement of his
ministry, in figurative language, referred his enemies, the Jews, to
his future resurrection (ii. 19 ff.). On his first messianic visit to
Jerusalem, and when, after the abuse of the market in the temple had
provoked him to that exhibition of holy zeal of which we have formerly
spoken, the Jews require a sign from him, by which he should
legitimatize his claim to be considered a messenger of God, who had
authority to adopt such violent measures, Jesus gives them this answer,
Destroy this temple, and after three days I will raise it up, λύσατε
τὸν ναὸν τοῦτον, καὶ ἐν τρισὶν ἡμέραις ἐγερῶ αὐτόν. The Jews took these
words in the sense, which, since they were spoken in the temple, was
the most natural, and urged, in reply to Jesus, that as it had taken
forty years to build this temple, he would scarcely be able, if it were
destroyed, to rebuild it in three days; but the Evangelist informs us,
that this was not the meaning of Jesus, and that he here spoke (though
indeed the disciples were not aware of this until after his
resurrection), of the temple of his body, ναὸς τοῦ στόματος αυτοῦ: i.e.
under the destruction and rebuilding of the temple, he alluded to his
death and resurrection. Even if we admit, what however the most
moderate expositors deny, [1650] that Jesus could properly (as he is
also represented to have done in Matthew xii. 39 ff.) when the Jews
asked him for a visible and immediate sign, refer them to his
resurrection as the greatest, and for his enemies the most overwhelming
miracle in his history: still he must have done this in terms which it
was possible for them to understand (as in the above passage of
Matthew, where he expresses himself quite plainly). But the expressions
of Jesus, as here given, could not possibly be understood in this
sense. For when one who is in the temple, speaks of the destruction of
this temple, every one will refer his words to the building itself.
Hence Jesus, when he uttered the words, this temple, τὸν ναὸν τοῦτον,
must have pointed to his body with his finger; as, indeed, is generally
presupposed by the friends of this interpretation. [1651] But, in the
first place, the Evangelist says nothing of such a gesture,
notwithstanding that it lay in his interest to notice this, as a
support of his interpretation. In the second place, Gabler has with
justice remarked, how ill-judged and ineffective it would have been, by
the addition of a mere gesture to give a totally new meaning to a
speech, which verbally, and therefore logically, referred to the
temple. If, however, Jesus used this expedient, the motion of his
finger could not have been unobserved; the Jews must rather have
demanded from him how he could be so arrogant as to call his body the
temple, ναὸς; or even if not so, still, presupposing that action, the
disciples could not have remained in the dark concerning the meaning of
his words, until after the resurrection. [1652]

By these difficulties modern exegetists have felt constrained to
renounce John’s explanation of the words of Jesus, as erroneous and
made ex eventu, and to attempt to penetrate, independently of the
Evangelist’s explanation, into the sense of the enigmatical saying
which he attributes to Jesus. [1653] The construction put upon it by
the Jews, who refer the words of Jesus to a real destruction and
rebuilding of the national sanctuary, cannot be approved without
imputing to Jesus an extravagant example of vain-glorious boasting, at
variance with the character which he elsewhere exhibits. If on this
account search be made for some figurative meaning which may possibly
be assigned to the declaration, there presents itself first a passage
in the same gospel (iv. 21 ff.) where Jesus announces to the woman of
Samaria, that the time is immediately coming, in which the Father will
no longer be worshipped exclusively in Jerusalem (ἐν Ἱεροσολύμοις), but
will, as a Spirit, receive spiritual worship. Now in the present
passage also, the destruction of the temple might, it is said, have
signified the abolition of the temple-service at Jerusalem, supposed to
be the only valid mode of worship. This interpretation is confirmed by
a narrative in the Acts (vi. 14). Stephen, who, as it appears, had
adopted the above expressions of Jesus, was taxed by his accusers with
declaring, that Jesus of Nazareth shall destroy this place, and shall
change the customs which Moses delivered, ὅτι Ἰησοῦς ὁ Ναζωραῖος οὖτος
καταλύσει τὸν τόπον τοῦτον, καὶ ἀλλάξει τὰ ἔθη, ἃ παρέδωκε Μωϋσῆς: in
which words a change of the Mosaic religious institutions, without
doubt a spiritualization of them, is described as a sequel to the
destruction of the temple. To this may be added a passage in the
synoptical gospels. Nearly the same words which in John are uttered by
Jesus himself, appear in the two first gospels (Matt. xxvi. 60 f.; Mark
xiv. 57 f.) as the accusation of false witnesses against him; and here
Mark, in addition, designates the temple which is to be destroyed, as
one made with hands, χειροποίητος, and the new one which is to be
built, as another, made without hands, ἄλλος, ἀχειροποίητος, whereby he
appears to indicate the same contrast between a ceremonial and a
spiritual religious system. By the aid of these passages, it is
thought, the declaration in John may be explained thus: the sign of my
authority to purify the temple, is my ability in a short time to
introduce in the place of the Jewish ceremonial worship, a spiritual
service of God; i.e. I am authorized to reform the old system, in so
far as I am qualified to found a new one. It is certainly a trivial
objection to this explanation, that in John the object is not changed,
as in Mark, where the temple which is to be built is spoken of as
another (ἄλλος), but instead of this, is indicated by the word αὐτὸς,
as the same with the one destroyed; [1654] since, indeed, the Christian
system of religion in relation to the Jewish, may, just as the risen
body of Jesus in relation to the dead one, be conceived as at once
identical and different, inasmuch as in both cases the substance is the
same, while the transitory accidents only are supposed to be removed.
But it is a more formidable objection which attaches itself to the
determination of time, ἐν τρισὶν ἡμέραις. That this expression is also
used indefinitely and proverbially, in the sense of a short interval of
time in general, is not adequately proved by the two passages which are
usually appealed to with this view; for in them the third day, by being
placed in connexion with the second and first (Hos. vi. 2: ‏מִיֹמָיִם בַּיוֹם
הַשְּׁלִישִׁי‎; Luke xiii. 32: σήμερον καὶ αὔριον καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ) is announced
as a merely relative and proximate statement, whereas in our passage it
stands alone, and thus presents itself as an absolute and precise
determination of time. [1655]

Thus alike invited and repelled by both explanations, [1656]
theologians take refuge in a double sense, which holds the middle place
either between the interpretation of John and the symbolical one last
stated, [1657] or between the interpretation of John and that of the
Jews; [1658] so that Jesus either spoke at once of his body which was
to be killed and again restored to life, and of the modification of the
Jewish religion which was to be effected, chiefly by means of that
death and resurrection; or, in order to repel the Jews, he challenged
them to destroy their real temple, and on this condition, never to be
fulfilled, promised to build another, still, however, combining with
this ostensible sense for the multitude, an esoteric sense, which was
only understood by the disciples after the resurrection, and according
to which ναὸς denoted his body. But such a challenge addressed to the
Jews, together with the engagement appended to it, would have been an
unbecoming manifestation of petulance, and the latent intimation to the
disciples, a useless play on words; besides that, in general, a double
meaning either of the one or the other kind is unheard of in the
discourse of a judicious man. [1659] As, in this manner, the
possibility of explaining the passage in John might be entirely
despaired of, the author of the Probabilia appeals to the fact that the
synoptists call the witnesses, who allege before the judgment seat that
Jesus had uttered that declaration, ψευδομάρτυρας, false witnesses;
whence he concludes, that Jesus never said what John here attributes to
him, and thus gains an exemption from the explanation of the passage,
since he regards it as a figment of the fourth Evangelist, whose object
was both to explain the calumniations of the accusers, and also to
nullify them by a mystical interpretation of his words. [1660] But, on
the one hand, it does not follow, from the fact that the synoptists
call the witnesses false, that, in the opinion of the Evangelists,
Jesus had never said anything whatever of that whereof they accused
him; for he might only have said it somewhat differently (λύσατε, not
λύσω), or have intended it in a different sense (figuratively instead
of literally): on the other hand, if he said nothing at all of this
kind, it is difficult to explain how the false witnesses should come to
choose that declaration, and especially the remarkable phrase, ἐν
τρισὶν ἡμέραις.

If, according to this, on every interpretation of the expression,
except the inadmissible one relative to the body of Jesus, the words ἐν
τρισὶν ἡμέραις form a difficulty: a resource might be found in the
narrative of the Acts, as being free from that determination of time.
For here Stephen is only accused of saying, ὅτι Ἰ. ὁ Ναζ. οὗτος
καταλύσει τὸν τόπον τοῦτον (τὸν ἅγιον), καὶ ἀλλάξει τὰ ἔθη ἃ παρέδωκε
Μωϋσῇς. What is false in this allegation (for the witnesses against
Stephen also are described as μάρτυρες ψευδεῖς), might be the second
proposition, which speaks in literal terms of a changing of the
institutes of Moses, and instead of this, Stephen, and before him
Jesus, may very probably have said in the figurative signification
above developed, καὶ πάλιν οἰκοδομήσει (—σω) αὐτὸν, or καὶ ἄλλον
(ἀχειροποίητον) οἰκοδομήσει (—σω).

Meanwhile, this expedient is not at all needful, so far as any
insurmountable difficulty in the words ἐν τρισὶν ἡμέραις, is concerned.
As the number 3 is used proverbially, not only in connexion with 2 or 4
(Prov. xxx. 15, 18, 21, 29; Wis. xxiii. 21, xxvi. 25), but also by
itself (Wis. xxv. 1, 3); so the expression, in three days, if it were
once, in combination with the second and first day, become common as an
indefinite statement of time, might probably at length be applied in
the same sense when standing alone. Whether the expression should
signify a long or a short period would then depend on the connexion:
here, in opposition to the construction of a great and elaborate
building, to the real, natural erection of which, as the Jews directly
remark, a long series of years was required, the expression can only be
understood as denoting the shortest time. [1661] A prediction, or even
a mere intimation of the resurrection, is therefore not contained in
these words.

As, here, Jesus is said to have intimated his resurrection beforehand,
by the image of the destroying and rebuilding of the temple, so, on
another occasion, he is supposed to have quoted the type of the prophet
Jonah with the same intention (Matt. xii. 39 ff., comp. xvi. 4; Luke
xi. 29 ff.). When the scribes and Pharisees desired to see a sign from
him, Jesus is said to have repulsed their demand by the reply, that to
so evil a generation γενεὰ no sign shall be given, but the sign of the
prophet Jonah, τὸ σημεῖον Ἰωνᾶ τοῦ προφήτου, which, in the first
passage of Matthew, Jesus himself explains thus: as Jonah was three
days and three nights in the belly of the whale, ἐν τῇ κοιλίᾳ τοῦ
κήτους, so also the Son of man will pass three days and three nights in
the heart of the earth, ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ τῆς γῆς. In the second passage, in
which Matthew attributes this declaration to Jesus, he does not repeat
the above interpretation; while Luke, in the parallel passage, explains
it simply thus: For as Jonah was a sign to the Ninevites, so shall also
the Son of man be to this generation. Now against the possibility of
Jesus having himself given the interpretation of the sign of Jonah
which Matthew puts into his mouth, v. 40, a variety of objections may
be urged. It is indeed scarcely a tenable argument, that Jesus cannot
have spoken of three days and three nights, which he would pass in the
heart of the earth, because he only lay in the grave one day and two
nights: [1662] since the phraseology of the New Testament decidedly has
the peculiarity of designating the abode of Jesus in the grave as of
three days’ duration, because it touched upon the evening of the day
before the Sabbath, and the morning of the day after it; and if this
one day, together with two nights, were once taken for three whole
days, it would only be a round way of expressing this completeness, to
add to the days the nights also, which, besides, would naturally follow
in the comparison with the three days and three nights of Jonah. [1663]
But if Jesus gave the explanation of the sign of Jonah which Matthew
attributes to him, this would have been so clear a prediction of his
resurrection, that for the same reasons which, according to the above
observations, are opposed to the literal predictions of that event, we
must conclude that Jesus cannot have given this explanation. At all
events it must have led the disciples who, according to v. 49, were
present, to question Jesus, and in that case it is not to be understood
why he did not make the subject perfectly clear, and thus announce his
resurrection in plain words. But if he cannot have done this, because
then the disciples could not have acted after his death as they are
said to have done in the evangelical accounts: neither can he, by that
comparison of the fate which awaited him with that of Jonah, have
called forth from his disciples a question, which, if proposed to him,
he must have answered; but which, judging from the sequel, he cannot
have answered.

On these grounds, modern critics have pronounced the explanation of the
σημεῖον Ἰωνᾶ in Matthew to be an interpretation made post eventum by
the Evangelist, and by him falsely attributed to Jesus. [1664]
According to them, Jesus indeed directed the attention of the Pharisees
to the sign of Jonah, but only in the sense in which Luke makes him
explain it: namely, that as Jonah himself, by his mere appearance and
preaching of repentance, without miracles, had sufficed as a sign from
God to the Ninevites; so his own cotemporaries, instead of craving for
miracles, should be satisfied with his person and preaching. This
interpretation is the only one which accords with the tenor of the
discourse of Jesus—even in Matthew, and more particularly with the
parallel between the relation of the Ninevites to Jonah, and that of
the queen of the south to Solomon. As it was the wisdom of Solomon,
σοφία Σολομῶνος, by which the latter felt herself attracted from the
ends of the earth: so, in Jonah, even according to the expression of
Matthew, it was solely his preaching, κήρυγμα, which brought the
Ninevites to repentance. It might be supposed that the future tense in
Luke: οὕτως ἔσται καὶ ὁ υἱὸς τ. ἀ. τῇ γενεᾷ ταύτῃ (σημεῖον), So shall
also the Son of Man be to this generation (a sign), cannot be referred
to Jesus and his preaching as manifested at that moment, but only to
something future, as his resurrection: but this in reality points
either to the future judgment κρίσις, in which it will be made
manifest, that as Jonah was reckoned a sign to the Ninevites, so was
the Son of Man to the Jews then living; or to the fact that when Jesus
spoke these words, his appearance had not yet attained its
consummation, and many of its stages lay yet in futurity. Nevertheless,
it must have been at an early period, as we see from the first gospel,
that the fate of Jonah was placed in a typical relation to the death
and resurrection of Jesus, since the primitive church anxiously
searched through the Old Testament for types and prophecies of the
offensive catastrophe which befel their Messiah.

There are still some expressions of Jesus in the fourth gospel, which
have been understood as latent prophecies of the resurrection. The
discourse on the corn of wheat, xii. 24, it is true, too obviously
relates to the work of Jesus as likely to be furthered by his death, to
be here taken into further consideration. But in the farewell
discourses in John there are some declarations, which many are still
inclined to refer to the resurrection. When Jesus says: I will not
leave you comfortless, I will come unto you; yet a little time, and the
world sees me no more, but ye see me; a little while, and ye shall not
see me, and again a little while and ye shall see me, etc. (xiv. 18
ff., xvi. 16 ff.); many believe that these expressions—with the
relation between μικρὸν καὶ πάλιν μικρὸν, a little while, and again a
little while; the opposition between ἐμφανίζειν ἡμῖν (τοῖς μαθηταῖς)
καὶ οὐχὶ τῷ κόσμῳ, manifest to you (the disciples) and not to the
world; the words πάλιν ὄψομαι and ὄψεσθε, I shall see you again, and ye
shall see, which appear to indicate a strictly personal interview—can
be referred to nothing else than the resurrection, which was precisely
such a reappearance after a short removal, and moreover a personal
reappearance granted to the friends of Jesus alone. [1665] But this
promised reappearance is at the same time described by Jesus in a
manner which will not suit the days of the resurrection. If the words
because I live, ὅτι ἐγὼ ζῶ (xiv. 19), denote his resurrection, we are
at a loss to know what can be meant by the succeeding clause, ye shall
live also, καὶ ὑμεῖς ζήσεσθε. Again, Jesus says that on that
reappearance his disciples will know his relation to the Father, and
will no more need to ask anything of him (xiv. 20, xvi. 23): yet even
on the very last day of their intercourse with him after the
resurrection, they ask a question of him (Acts i. 6), and one which
from the point of view of the fourth gospel is altogether senseless.
Lastly, when he promises that to him who loves him, he and the Father
will come, and make their abode with him, it is perfectly clear that
Jesus here speaks not of a corporeal return, but of his spiritual
return, through the παράκλητος. [1666] Nevertheless, even this
explanation has its difficulties, since, on the other hand, the
expressions ye shall see me, ὄψεσθέ με, and I shall see you, ὄψομαι
ὑμᾶς, will not entirely suit that purely spiritual return: hence we
must defer the solution of this apparent contradiction until we can
give a more complete elucidation of the discourses in which these
expressions occur. In the meantime we merely observe, that the farewell
discourses in John, being admitted, even by the friends of the fourth
gospel, to contain an intermixture of the Evangelist’s own thoughts,
are the last source from which to obtain a proof on this subject.

After all, there might seem to be a resource in the supposition, that
though Jesus did not indeed speak of his future resurrection, it was
not the less foreknown by him. Now if he had a foreknowledge of his
resurrection, either he obtained it in a supernatural manner, by means
of the prophetic spirit, the higher principle that dwelt within him—by
means of his divine nature, if that be preferred: or he knew it in a
natural manner, by the exercise of his human reason. But a supernatural
foreknowledge of that event, as well as of his death, is inconceivable,
owing to the relation in which Jesus places it to the Old Testament.
Not merely in passages such as Luke xviii. 31 (which, as prophecies,
can no longer have an historical value for us after the result of our
last inquiry), does Jesus represent his resurrection, together with his
passion and death, as a fulfilment of all things that are written by
the prophets concerning the Son of man, πάντων τῶν γεγραμμένων διὰ τῶν
προφητῶν τῷ υἱῷ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου; but even after the issue, he admonishes
his disciples that they ought to believe all that the prophets have
spoken, ἐπὶ πᾶσιν οἷς ἐλάλησαν οἱ προφῆται, namely, that Christ ought
to have suffered these things and to enter into his glory, ταῦτα ἔδει
παθεῖν τὸν Χριστὸν, καὶ εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τὴν δόξαν αὑτοῦ (Luke xxiv. 25
f.). According to the sequel of the narrative, Jesus forthwith
expounded to these disciples (going to Emmaus) all the passages of
scripture relating to himself, beginning at Moses and all the prophets,
ἀρξάμενος ἀπὸ Μωσέως καὶ ἀπὸ πάντων τῶν προφητῶν, to which farther on
(v. 44) the psalms are added; but no single passage is given us as
having been interpreted by Jesus of his resurrection, except that it
would follow from Matt. xii. 39 f., that he regarded the fate of the
prophet Jonah as a type of his own; and regarding the subsequent
apostolic interpretation as an echo of that of Jesus, it might be
concluded, that he, as afterwards the apostles, found such prophecies
chiefly in Ps. xvi. 8 ff. (Acts ii. 25 ff., xiii. 35); Isa. liii. (Acts
viii. 32 ff.); Isa. lv. 3 (Acts xiii. 34), and possibly also in Hos.
vi. 2. But the fate of Jonah has not even an external similarity to
that of Jesus; and the book which narrates his history carries its
object so completely in itself, that whoever may ascribe to it or to
one of its particulars, a typical relation to events in futurity,
assuredly mistakes its true sense and the design of its author. Isa.
lv. 3 is so obviously irrelevant that one can scarcely conceive how the
passage could be brought into special connexion with the resurrection
of Jesus. Isa. liii. refers decidedly to a collective subject
perpetually restored to life in new members. Hosea vi. has a figurative
reference, not to be mistaken, to the people and state of Israel.
Lastly, the principal passage, Ps. xvi. can only be interpreted of a
pious man, who by the help of Jehovah hopes to escape from the danger
of death, not in the sense that he, like Jesus, would rise again from
the grave, but that he would not be laid there—that is, obviously, not
for the present, and with the understanding, that when his time should
come, he must pay the tribute of nature: [1667] which, again, will not
apply to Jesus. Thus if a supernatural principle in Jesus—a prophetic
spirit—caused him to discover a pre-intimation of his resurrection in
these Old Testament histories and passages; then, as no one of them
really contained such a pre-intimation, the spirit in him cannot have
been the spirit of truth, but must have been a lying spirit, the
supernatural principle in him, not a divine, but a demoniacal
principle. If, in order to avoid this consequence, supranaturalists who
are accessible to a rational interpretation of the Old Testament,
resort to their only remaining expedient, of regarding the
foreknowledge of Jesus concerning his resurrection as purely natural
and human: we must reply, that the resurrection, conceived as a
miracle, was a secret of the divine counsels, to penetrate into which,
prior to the issue, was an impossibility to a human intelligence; while
viewed as a natural result, it was a chance the last to be calculated
upon, apart from the supposition of an apparent death planned by Jesus
and his colleagues.

Thus the foreknowledge, as well as the prediction of the resurrection,
was attributed to Jesus only after the issue; and in fact, it was an
easy matter, with the groundless arbitrariness of Jewish exegesis, for
the disciples and the authors of the New Testament to discover in the
Old, types and prophecies of the resurrection. Not that they did this
with crafty design, according to the accusation of the Wolfenbüttel
Fragmentist, and others of his class: but as he who has looked at the
sun, long sees its image wherever he may turn his gaze; so they,
blinded by their enthusiasm for the new Messiah, saw him on every page
of the only book they read, the Old Testament, and in the conviction
that Jesus was the Messiah, founded in the genuine feeling that he had
satisfied their deepest need—a conviction and a feeling which we also
still honour—they laid hold on supports which have long been broken,
and which can no longer be made tenable by the most zealous efforts of
an exegesis which is behind the age.

§ 115.

THE DISCOURSES OF JESUS ON HIS SECOND ADVENT. CRITICISM OF THE
DIFFERENT INTERPRETATIONS.

Not only did Jesus, according to the evangelical accounts, predict that
he should return to life three days after his death; but also that at a
later period, in the midst of the calamities which would issue in the
destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, he should come in the clouds of
heaven, to close the present period of the world, and by a general
judgment, open the future age (Matt. xxiv. and xxv.; Mark. xiii.; Luke
xvii. 22–37, xxi. 5–36).

As Jesus for the last time went out of the temple (Luke has not this
circumstance), and his disciples (Luke says indefinitely, some)
admiringly drew his attention to the magnificent building, he assured
them that all which they then looked on, would be destroyed from its
foundations (Matt. xxiv. 1, 2, parall.). On the question of the
disciples, when this would happen, and what would be the sign of the
Messiah’s coming, which in their idea was associated with such a crisis
(v. 3), Jesus warns them not to be deceived by persons falsely giving
themselves out to be the Messiah, and by the notion that the expected
catastrophe must follow immediately on the first prognostics; for wars
and rumours of war, risings of nation against nation and kingdom
against kingdom, famine, pestilence, and earthquakes in divers places,
would be only the beginning of the sorrows which were to precede the
advent of the Messiah (v. 4–8). They themselves, his adherents, must
first suffer hatred, persecution, and the sword; perfidy, treachery,
deception by false prophets, lukewarmness and general corruption of
morals, would prevail among men; but at the same time the news of the
Messiah’s kingdom must be promulgated through the whole world. Only
after all this, could the end of the present period of the world
arrive, until when, he who would partake of the blessedness of the
future must endure with constancy (v. 9–14). A nearer presage of this
catastrophe would be the fulfilment of the oracle of Daniel (ix. 27),
the standing of the abomination of desolation in the holy place
(according to Luke xxi. 20, the encompassing of Jerusalem with armies).
When this should take place, it would be high time for the most
precipitate flight (according to Luke, because the devastation of
Jerusalem would be at hand, an event which he more nearly
particularizes in the address of Jesus to the city, xix. 43 f.: thine
enemies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and
keep thee in on every side, and shall lay thee even with the ground,
and thy children within thee; and they shall not leave in thee one
stone upon another). At this juncture, all who should have hindrances
to rapid departure would be deserving of compassion, and it would be in
the highest degree desirable that the recommended flight should not
fall in an unfavourable season; for then would commence unexampled
tribulation (according to Luke, v. 24, consisting chiefly in many of
the people of Israel perishing by the sword, in others being carried
away captive, and in Jerusalem being trodden down of the Gentiles for a
predetermined period): a tribulation which only the merciful abridgment
of its duration by God, for the sake of the elect, could render
supportable (v. 15–22). At this time would arise false prophets and
Messiahs, seeking to delude by miracles and signs, and promising to
show the Messiah in this or that place: whereas a Messiah who was
concealed anywhere, and must be sought out, could not be the true one;
for his advent would be like the lightning, a sudden and universal
revelation, of which the central point would be Jerusalem, the object
of punishment on account of its sin (v. 23–28). Immediately after this
time of tribulation, the darkening of the sun and moon, the falling of
the stars, and the shaking of all the powers of heaven would usher in
the appearance of the Messiah, who, to the dismay of the dwellers on
the earth, would come with great glory in the clouds of heaven, and
immediately send forth his angels to gather together his elect from all
the corners of the earth (v. 29–31). By the fore-named signs the
approach of the described catastrophe would be as certainly discernible
as the approach of summer by the budding of the fig-tree; the existing
generation would, by all that was true, live to witness it, though its
more precise period was known to God only (v. 32–36). But, after the
usual manner of mankind (what follows, Mark and Luke partly have not at
all, partly not in this connexion), they would allow the advent of the
Messiah, as formerly the deluge, to overtake them in thoughtless
security (v. 37–39): and yet it would be an extremely critical period,
in which those who stood in the closest relation to each other, would
be delivered over to entirely opposite destinies (v. 40, 41). Hence
watchfulness would be requisite, as in all cases where the period of a
decisive issue is uncertain: an admonition which is then illustrated by
the image of the master of the house and the thief (v. 43, 44); of the
servant to whom his lord, when about to travel, entrusted the rule of
his house (v. 45–51); of the wise and foolish virgins (xxv. 1–13): and
lastly, of the talents (v. 14–30). Hereupon follows a description of
the solemn judgment, which the Messiah would hold over all nations, and
in which, according as the duties of humanity were observed or
neglected, he would award blessedness or misery (v. 31–46). [1668]

Thus in these discourses Jesus announces that shortly (εὐθέως, xxiv.
29), after that calamity, which (especially according to the
representation in Luke’s gospel) we must identify with the destruction
of Jerusalem and its temple, and within the term of the cotemporary
generation (ἡ γενεὰ αὕτη, v. 34), he would visibly make his second
advent in the clouds, and terminate the existing dispensation. Now as
it will soon be eighteen centuries since the destruction of Jerusalem,
and an equally long period since the generation cotemporary with Jesus
disappeared from the earth, while his visible return and the end of the
world which he associated with it, have not taken place: the
announcement of Jesus appears so far to have been erroneous. Already in
the first age of Christianity, when the return of Christ was delayed
longer than had been anticipated, there arose, according to 2 Peter
iii. 3 f., scoffers, asking: where is the promise of his coming? for
since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from
the beginning of the creation. In modern times, the inference which may
apparently be drawn from the above consideration, to the disadvantage
of Jesus and the apostles, has been by no one more pointedly expressed
than by the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist. No promise throughout the whole
scriptures, he thinks, is on the one hand more definitely expressed,
and on the other, has turned out more flagrantly false, than this,
which yet forms one of the main pillars of Christianity. And he does
not see in this a mere error, but a premeditated deception on the part
of the apostles (to whom, and not to Jesus himself, he attributes that
promise, and the discourses in which it is contained); a deception
induced by the necessity of alluring the people on whose contributions
they wished to subsist, by the promise of a speedy reward: and
discernible by the boldness of their attempts to evade the doubts
springing from the protracted delay of the return of Christ: Paul, for
example, in the second epistle to the Thessalonians, sheltering himself
in obscure phrases; and Peter, in his second epistle, resorting to the
preposterous expedient of appealing to the divine mode of reckoning
time, in which a thousand years are equal to one day. [1669]

Such inferences from the discourse before us would inflict a fatal
wound on Christianity; hence it is natural that exegetists should
endeavour by all means to obviate them. And as the whole difficulty
consists in Jesus having apparently placed an event now long past, in
immediate chronological connexion with one still future, three
expedients are possible: either to deny that Jesus in part spoke of
something now past, and to allege that he spoke solely of what is still
future; or to deny that a part of his discourse relates to something
still future, and thus to refer the entire prediction to what is
already lying in the past; or lastly, to admit that the discourse of
Jesus does indeed partly refer to something which is still future to
us, but either to deny that he places the two series of events in
immediate chronological succession, or to maintain that he has also
noticed what is intermediate.

Some of the Fathers of the Church, as Irenæus and Hilary—yet living in
the primitive expectation of the return of Christ, and at the same time
not so practised in regular exegesis, as to be incapable of overlooking
certain difficulties attendant on a desirable interpretation—referred
the entire prediction, from its commencement in Matt. xxiv. to its end
in Matt. xxv., to the still future return of Christ to judgment. [1670]
But as this interpretation admits that Jesus in the commencement of his
discourse uses the destruction of Jerusalem as a type of the final
catastrophe, it virtually nullifies itself. For what does that
admission signify, but that the discourse of Jesus, in the first
instance, produces the impression that he spoke of the destruction of
Jerusalem, i.e. of something now past, and that only more extended
reflection and combination can give it a relation to something still
lying in futurity?

To modern rationalism, based as it was on naturalistic principles, the
hope of the second advent of Christ was in every form annihilated.
Hence, not scrupling at any exegetical violence for the sake of
removing from scripture what was discordant with its preconceived
system, it threw itself on the opposite side, and hazarded the attempt
to refer the discourses in question, in their entire tenor, solely to
the destruction of Jerusalem, and the events which immediately preceded
and followed it. [1671] According to this interpretation, the end
spoken of is only the cessation of the Judeo-Gentile economy of the
world; what is said of the advent of Christ in the clouds, is only a
figurative description of the promulgation and triumph of his doctrine;
the assembling of the nations to judgment, and the sending of some into
blessedness, and others into condemnation, is an image of the happy
consequences which would result from embracing the doctrine and cause
of Jesus, and the evil consequences attendant on indifference or
hostility to them. But in this explanation there is a want of
similarity between the symbols and the ideas represented, which is not
only unprecedented in itself, but particularly inconceivable in this
case; since Jesus is here addressing minds of Jewish culture, and must
therefore be aware that what he said of the Messiah’s advent in the
clouds, of the judgment, and the end of the existing period of the
world, would be understood in the most literal sense.

It thus appears that the discourse of Jesus will not as a whole, admit
of being referred either to the destruction of the Jewish state, or to
the events at the end of the world; it would therefore be necessarily
referred to something distinct from both, if this twofold impossibility
adhered alike to all its parts. But the case is not so; for while, on
the one hand, what is said Matt. xxiv. 2, 3, 15 ff. of the devastation
of the temple, cannot be referred to the end of the world: on the other
hand, what is predicted xxv. 31 ff. of the judgment to be held by the
Son of Man, will not suit the destruction of Jerusalem. As, according
to this, in the earlier part of the discourse of Jesus, the destruction
of Jerusalem is the predominant subject, but in the subsequent part,
the end of all things: it is possible to make a division, so as to
refer the former to the more proximate event, the latter to the more
remote one. This is the middle path which has been taken by the
majority of modern exegetists, and here the only question is: where is
the partition to be made? As it must present a space of time within
which the whole period from the destruction of Jerusalem to the last
day may be supposed to fall, and which therefore would include many
centuries, it must, one would think, be plainly indicated, so as to be
easily and unanimously found. It is no good augury for the plan, that
this unanimity does not exist,—that, on the contrary, the required
division is made in widely different parts of the discourse of Jesus.

Thus much on the one hand appeared to be decided: that at least the
close of the 25th chapter, from v. 31, with its description of the
solemn tribunal which the Messiah, surrounded by his angels, would hold
over all nations, cannot be referred to the time of the destruction of
Jerusalem. Hence many theologians believed that they could fix the
boundary here, retaining the relation to the end of the Jewish state
until xxv. 30, and at this point making the transition to the end of
the world. [1672] On the very first glance at this explanation, it must
appear strange that the great chasm which it supposes to exist between
v. 30 and 31, is marked simply by a δὲ. Moreover, not only are the
darkening of the sun and moon, earthquakes, and falling of the stars,
understood as a mere image of the subversion of the Jewish state and
worship; but when xxiv. 31, it is said of the Messiah, that he will
come in the clouds, this is supposed to mean, invisibly; with
power—only observable by the effects he produces; with great glory—with
such as consists in the conclusions which may be drawn from those
effects; while the angels who gather together the nations by the sound
of the trumpet, are supposed to represent the apostles preaching the
gospel. [1673] Quite erroneously, appeal is made, in support of this
merely figurative meaning, to the prophetic pictures of the divine day
of judgment, Isa. xiii. 9 ff., xxiv. 18 ff.; Jer. iv. 23 f.; Ezek.
xxxii. 7 ff.; Joel iii. 3 ff.; Amos viii. 9; farther, to descriptions
[1674] such as Judges v. 20; Acts ii., xvii. ff. In those prophetic
passages, real eclipses of the sun and moon, earthquakes, and the like,
are intended, and are described as prodigies which will accompany the
predicted catastrophe; the song of Deborah, again, celebrates a real
participation of heaven in the battle against Sisera, a participation
which in the narrative, iv. 15, is ascribed to God himself, in the
song, to his heavenly hosts; lastly, Peter expects, that the outpouring
of the spirit will be succeeded by the appearances in the heavens,
promised among the signs of the great day of the Lord.

The attempt to effect a division near the end of the discourse, at xxv.
30, failing, from its rendering much that goes before incapable of
explanation; the next expedient is to retreat as far towards the
commencement as possible, by considering how far it is inevitable to
recognise a relation to the immediate future. The first resting place
is after xxiv. 28; for what is said, up to this point, of war and other
calamities, of the abomination in the temple, of the necessity for
speedy flight, in order to escape unprecedented misery, cannot be
divested of a reference to the destruction of Jerusalem without the
greatest violence: while what follows concerning the appearance of the
Son of Man in the clouds, etc., just as imperatively demands an
application to the last day. [1675] But in the first place, it appears
incomprehensible how the enormous interval, which on this explanation
also is supposed to fall between the one portion of the discourse and
the other, can be introduced between two verses, of all others, which
Matthew connects by an adverb expressive of the shortest possible time
(εὐθέως). It has been sought to remove this inconvenience by the
assertion that εὐθέως does not here signify the quick succession of the
one incident on the other, but only the unexpected occurrence of an
event, and that consequently, what is here said amounts merely to this:
suddenly, at some period (how distant is undetermined) after the
calamities attendant on the destruction of Jerusalem, the Messiah will
visibly appear. Such an interpretation of εὐθέως is, as Olshausen
correctly perceives, merely a desperate resource: but even were it
otherwise, it would afford no real aid, since not only does Mark in his
parallel passage, v. 24, by the words, in those days, after that
tribulation, ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις μετὰ τὴν θλίψιν ἐκείνην, place
the events which he proceeds to mention in uninterrupted chronological
succession with those which he had before detailed; but also, shortly
after this point in each of the narratives (Matt. v. 34 parall.), we
find the assurance that all this will be witnessed by the existing
generation. As thus the opinion, that from v. 29, everything relates to
the return of Christ to judge the world, was threatened with
annihilation by v. 34; the word γενεὰ, as the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist
[1676] complains, was put to the torture, that it might cease to bear
witness against this mode of division. At one time it is made to
signify the Jewish nation; [1677] at another the adherents of Jesus;
[1678] and of both the one and the other Jesus is supposed to say that
it will (how many generations hence being left uncertain) be still in
existence on the arrival of that catastrophe. So to explain the verse
in question, that it may not contain a determination of time, is even
maintained to be necessary on a consideration of the context, v. 35:
for as in this Jesus declares it impossible to determine the period of
that catastrophe, he cannot immediately before have given such a
determination, in the assurance that his cotemporaries would yet live
to see all of which he had been speaking. But this alleged necessity so
to interpret the word γενεὰ, has long been dissipated by the
distinction between an inexact indication of the space of time, beyond
which the event will not be deferred (γενεὰ), and the precise
determination of the epoch (ἡμέρα καὶ ὥρα) at which it will occur; the
former Jesus gives, the latter he declares himself unable to give.
[1679] But the very possibility of interpreting γενεὰ in the above
manner vanishes, when it is considered, that in connexion with a verb
of time, and without anything to imply a special application, γενεὰ
cannot have any other than its original sense: i.e. generation, age;
that in a passage aiming to determine the signs of the Messiah’s
advent, it would be very unsuitable to introduce a declaration which,
instead of giving any information concerning the arrival of that
catastrophe, should rather treat of the duration of the Jewish nation,
or of the Christian community, of which nothing had previously been
said; that, moreover, already at v. 33, in the words ὑμεῖς ὅταν ἴδητε
πάντα ταῦτα, γινώσκετε κ.τ.λ., Ye, when ye shall SEE all these things,
know, etc., it is presupposed that the parties addressed would witness
the approach of the event in question; and lastly, that in another
passage (Matt. xvi. 28 parall.) the certainty of living to see the
coming of the Son of man is asserted not simply of this generation,
γενεὰ αὕτη, but of some standing here, τινες τῶν ὧδε ἑστηκότων, whereby
it is shown in the most decisive manner, that in the present passage
also, Jesus intended by the above expression the race of his
cotemporaries, who were not to have become extinct before that
catastrophe should occur. [1680] Unable to deny this, and yet anxious
to separate as widely as possible the end of the world here announced,
and the age of Jesus, others would find in the declaration before us
nothing more than this: the events hitherto described will begin to be
fulfilled in the present age, though their complete fulfilment may yet
be deferred many centuries. [1681] But when already at v. 8 the subject
is said to be the beginning of the tribulation, while from v. 14 we
have a description of the end of the present period of the world, which
that tribulation would introduce, and it is here (v. 34) said, the
existing generation shall not pass away, ἕως ἂν πάντα ταῦτα γένηται,
until all these things be fulfilled: we must inevitably understand by
πάντα ταῦτα, all these things, not merely the beginning, but also the
last-mentioned events at the end of the world.

Thus there is still at v. 34 something which must be referred to an
event very near to the time of Jesus: hence the discourse of Jesus
cannot from so early a point as v. 29, refer to the end of the world,
an epoch so far distant; and the division must be made somewhat farther
on, after v. 35 or 42. [1682] But on this plan, expressions are thrown
into the first part of the discourse, which resist the assigned
application to the time of the destruction of Jerusalem;—the glorious
advent of Christ in the clouds, and the assembling of all nations by
angels (v. 30 f.) must be regarded as the same extravagant figures,
which formerly forbade our acceptance of another mode of division.

Thus the declaration v. 34 which, together with the preceding
symbolical discourse on the fig tree (v. 32 f.), and the appended
asseveration (v. 35), must refer to a very near event, has, both before
and after it, expressions which can only relate to the more distant
catastrophe: hence it has appeared to some as a sort of oasis in the
discourse, having a sense isolated from the immediate context. Schott,
for instance, supposes that, up to v. 26, Jesus had been speaking of
the destruction of Jerusalem; that at v. 27 he does indeed make a
transition to the events at the end of the present period of the world;
but that at v. 32, he reverts to the original subject, the destruction
of Jerusalem; and only at v. 36 proceeds again to speak of the end of
the world. [1683] But this is to hew the text in pieces, out of
desperation. Jesus cannot possibly have spoken with so little order and
coherence; still less can he have so linked his sentences together as
to give no intimation of such abrupt transitions.

Nor is this imputed to him by the most recent critics. According to
them, it is the Evangelist who has joined together, not in the best
order, distinct and heterogeneous declarations of Jesus. Matthew,
indeed, admits Schulz, imagined that these discourses were spoken
without intermission, and only arbitrariness and violence can in this
respect sever them from each other; but hardly did Jesus himself
deliver them in this consecutive manner, and with this imprint of
unity. [1684] The various phases of his coming, thinks Sieffert, his
figurative appearance at the destruction of Jerusalem, and his literal
appearance at the last day, though they may not have been expressly
discriminated, were certainly not positively connected by Jesus; but
subjects which he spoke of in succession were, from their obscurity,
confused together by the Evangelist. [1685] And as in this instance
there recurs the difference between Matthew and Luke, that what Matthew
represents as being spoken on a single occasion, Luke distributes into
separate discourses; to which it is also to be added, that much of what
Matthew gives, Luke either has not, or has it in a different form:
therefore Schleiermacher [1686] believed himself warranted to rectify
the composition of Matthew by that of Luke, and to maintain that while
in Luke the two separate discourses, xvii. 22 ff. and xxi. 5 ff., have
each their appropriate connexion and their indubitable application, in
Matthew (chap. xxiv. and xxv.), by the blending of those two
discourses, and the introduction of portions of other discourses, the
connexion is destroyed, and the application obscured. According to
this, the discourse, Luke xxi., taken alone, contains nothing which
outsteps the reference to the capture of Jerusalem and the accompanying
events. Yet here also (v. 27) we find the declaration, Then shall they
see the Son of Man coming in a cloud, τότε ὄψονται τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ
ἀνθρώπου ἐρχόμενον ἐν νεφέλη; and when Schleiermacher explains this as
a mere image representing the revelation of the religious significance
of the political and natural events before described, he falls into a
violence of interpretation which overturns his entire opinion as to the
mutual relation of these accounts. If, then, in the connexion of the
end of all things with the destruction of Jerusalem, Matthew by no
means stands alone, but is countenanced by Luke—to say nothing of Mark,
whose account in this instance is an extract from Matthew: we may, it
is true, conclude, that as in other discourses of Jesus, so perhaps in
this also, many things which were uttered at different times are
associated; but there is nothing to warrant the supposition, that
precisely what relates to the two events, which in our idea are so
remote from each other, is the foreign matter, especially since we see,
from the unanimous representation of the remaining New Testament
writings, that the primitive church expected, as a speedy issue, the
return of Christ, together with the end of the present period of the
world (1 Cor. x. 11, xv. 51; Phil. iv. 5; 1 Thess. iv. 15 ff.; James v.
8; 1 Pet. iv. 7; 1 John ii. 18; Rev. i. 1, 3, iii. 11, xxii. 7, 10, 12,
20).

Thus it is impossible to evade the acknowledgment, that in this
discourse, if we do not mutilate it to suit our own views, Jesus at
first speaks of the destruction of Jerusalem, and farther on and until
the close, of his return at the end of all things, and that he places
the two events in immediate connexion. There remains, therefore, but
one expedient for vindicating the correctness of his announcement,
namely, on the one hand, to assign the coming of which he speaks to the
future, but, on the other hand, to bring it at the same time into the
present—instead of a merely future, to make it a perpetual coming. The
whole history of the world, it is said, since the first appearance of
Christ, is an invisible return on his part, a spiritual judgment which
he holds over mankind. Of this, the destruction of Jerusalem (in our
passage until v. 28) is only the first act; in immediate succession
(εὐθέως, v. 29 ff.) comes the revolution effected among mankind by the
publication of the gospel; a revolution which is to be carried on in a
series of acts and epochs, until the end of all things, when the
judgment gradually effected in the history of the world, will be made
known by an all-comprehending, final revelation. [1687] But the famous
utterance of the poet, [1688] spoken from the inmost depth of modern
conviction, is ill-adapted to become the key of a discourse, which more
than any other has its root in the point of view proper to the ancient
world. To regard the judgment of the world, the coming of Christ, as
something successive, is a mode of conception in the most direct
opposition to that of the New Testament. The very expressions by which
it designates that catastrophe, as that day or the last day, ἐκείνη or
ἐσχάτη ἡμέρα, show that it is to be thought of as momentary; the
συντέλεια τοῦ αἰῶνος, end of the age (v. 3), concerning the signs of
which the apostles inquire, and which Jesus elsewhere (Matt. xiii. 39)
represents under the image of the harvest, can only be the final close
of the course of the world, not something which is gradually effected
during this course; when Jesus compares his coming to lightning (xxiv.
27), and to the entrance of the thief in the night (v. 43), he
represents it as one sudden event, and not as a series of events.
[1689] If we consider in addition to this the extravagant figures,
which it is not less necessary to suppose on this interpretation, than
on the above-mentioned reference of the 24th chapter to the destruction
of Jerusalem, [1690] it will appear necessary to abstain from this
expedient, as from all the previous ones.

Thus the last attempt to discover in the discourse before us the
immense interval which, looking from our position in the present day,
is fixed between the destruction of Jerusalem and the end of all
things, having failed; we are taught practically that that interval
lies only in our own conception, which we are not justified in
introducing into the text. And when we consider that we owe our idea of
that interval only to the experience of many centuries, which have
elapsed since the destruction of Jerusalem: it cannot be difficult to
us to imagine how the author of this discourse, who had not had this
experience, might entertain the belief that shortly after the fall of
the Jewish sanctuary, the world itself, of which, in the Jewish idea,
that sanctuary was the centre, would also come to an end, and the
Messiah appear in judgment.

§ 116.

ORIGIN OF THE DISCOURSES ON THE SECOND ADVENT.

The result just obtained involves a consequence, to avoid which has
been the object of all the futile attempts at explanation hitherto
examined: if, namely, Jesus conceived and declared that the fall of the
Jewish sanctuary would be shortly followed by his visible return and
the end of the world, while it is now nearly 1800 years since the one
catastrophe, and yet the other has not arrived; it follows that in this
particular he was mistaken. Hence expositors, who so far yield to
exegetical evidence, as to agree with us in the above conclusion
concerning the meaning of the discourse before us, seek from dogmatical
considerations to evade this legitimate consequence.

Hengstenberg, as is well known, has advanced, in relation to the
history of the Hebrew prophets, the following theory, which has met
with approval from other expositors. To the spiritual vision of these
men, he says, future things presented themselves not so much through
the medium of time as of space—as it were, in great pictures; and thus,
as is the case in paintings or perspective views, the most distant
object often appeared to them to stand immediately behind the nearest,
foreground and background being intermingled with each other: and this
theory of a perspective vision we are to apply to Jesus, especially in
regard to the discourse in question. [1691] But we may here cite the
appropriate remark of Paulus, [1692] that as one, who in a perspective
externally presented, does not know how to distinguish distances,
labours under an optical delusion, i.e. errs: so likewise in an
internal perspective of ideas, if such there be, the disregard of
distances must be pronounced an error; consequently this theory does
not show that the above men did not err, but rather explains how they
easily might err.

Even Olshausen considers this theory, which he elsewhere adopts,
insufficient in the present case to remove all appearance of error on
the part of Jesus; and he therefore seeks to derive special grounds of
justification, from the particular nature of the event predicted.
[1693] In the first place he regards it as indispensable to the full
moral influence of the doctrine of Christ’s return, that this
catastrophe should be regarded as possible, nay probable, at any
moment. This consideration may indeed justify such enunciations as
Matt. xxiv. 37 ff., where Jesus admonishes to watchfulness, because no
one can know how soon the decisive moment may arrive; but by no means
such as xxiv. 34, where he declares that within the term of the
existing generation, all will be fulfilled. For one whose mind is in a
healthy state, conceives the possible as possible, the probable as
probable; and if he wishes to abide by the truth, he so exhibits them
to others: he, on the contrary, by whom the merely possible or probable
is conceived as the real, is under a mistake; and he who, without so
conceiving it himself, yet for a moral or religious object, so
represents it to others, permits himself to use a pious fraud.
Olshausen further avails himself of a position already noticed, namely,
that the opinion that the advent of Christ is at hand, is a true one,
inasmuch as the entire history of the world is a coming of Christ;
though not so as to exclude his final coming at the end of all things.
But if it is proved that Jesus represented his literal, final coming as
near at hand, while, in fact, only his figurative perpetual coming
occurred in the period indicated: he has confused these two modes of
his coming. The last argument which Olshausen adduces—that because the
acceleration or delay of the return of Christ depends on the conduct of
men, consequently on their free-will, his prophecy is only to be
understood conditionally—stands or falls with the first; for to
represent something conditional as unconditional is to create a false
impression.

Sieffert, likewise, regards the grounds on which Olshausen seeks to
free the assertions of Jesus concerning his return from the imputation
of error, as inadequate; nevertheless he holds it an impossibility to
the Christian consciousness, to ascribe an erroneous expectation to
Jesus. [1694] In no case would this furnish a warrant, arbitrarily to
sever from each other those elements in the discourse of Jesus which
refer to the nearer event, from those which in our view refer to the
more remote one: rather, if we had reasons for holding such an error on
the part of Jesus inconceivable, we must deny in general that the
discourses on the second advent, in which those two sets of materials
are so inextricably interwoven, originated with him. But, looking from
the orthodox point of view, the question is not: what will it satisfy
the Christian consciousness of the present day to believe or not to
believe concerning Christ? but, what stands written concerning Christ?
and to this the above consciousness must accommodate itself as it best
may. Considering the subject rationally, however, a feeling resting on
presuppositions, such as the so-called Christian consciousness, has no
voice in matters of science; and as often as it seeks to intermeddle
with them, is to be reduced to order by the simple reprimand: mulier
taceat in ecclesiâ! [1695]

But have we no other grounds for questioning that Jesus really uttered
the predictions contained in Matt xxiv. and xxv. parall.? In pursuing
this inquiry, we may first take our stand on the assertion of
supranaturalistic theologians, that what Jesus here predicts, he could
not know in the natural way of reasonable calculation, but only in a
supernatural manner. [1696] Even the main fact, that the temple would
be destroyed and Jerusalem laid waste, could not, according to this
opinion, be so certainly foreknown. Who could conjecture, it is asked,
that the Jews would carry their frantic obstinacy so far as to render
such an issue inevitable? Who could calculate, that precisely such
emperors, would send such procurators, as would provoke insurrection by
their baseness and pusillanimity? Still more remarkable is it, that
many particular incidents which Jesus foretold actually occurred. The
wars, pestilence, earthquakes, famines, which he prophesied, may be
shown in the history of the succeeding times; the persecution of his
followers really took place; the prediction that there would be false
prophets, and even such as would, by promises of miracles, allure the
people into the wilderness (Matt. xxiv. 11, 24 ff. parall.), may be
compared with a strikingly similar passage from Josephus, describing
the last times of the Jewish state; [1697] the encompassing of
Jerusalem with armies, mentioned by Luke, with the trench, χάραξ, which
he elsewhere (xix. 43 f.) speaks of as being cast about the city, may
be recognized in the circumstance recorded by Josephus, that Titus
caused Jerusalem to be enclosed by a wall; [1698] lastly it may also
excite astonishment that the declarations, there shall not be left one
stone upon another, οὐκ ἀφεθήσεται λίθος ἐπὶ λίθῳ, in relation to the
temple, and they shall lay thee even with the ground, ἐδαφιοῦσί σε,
(Luke xix. 44), in relation to the city, were fulfilled to the letter.
[1699]

When on the orthodox point of view, from the impossibility of
foreseeing such particulars in a natural manner, it is concluded that
Jesus had a supernatural insight into the future; this conclusion is
here attended not only with the same difficulty as above, in connection
with the announcement of his death and resurrection, but with another
also. In the first place, according to Matthew (xxiv. 15), and Mark
(xiii. 14), Jesus represented the first stage of the catastrophe as a
fulfilment of the prophecy of Daniel concerning an abomination of
desolation, and consequently referred Dan. ix. 27 (comp. xi. 31, xii.
11) to an event at the destruction of Jerusalem by the Romans. For what
Paulus maintains,—namely, that Jesus here only borrows an expression
from Daniel, without regarding that declaration of the prophet as a
prophecy concerning something which in his time (the time of Jesus) was
still future—is here rendered especially inconceivable by the addition:
let him that readeth understand. Now it may be regarded as an
established point in the modern criticism and explanation of the Old
Testament, that the above passages in Daniel have reference to the
desecration of the temple by Antiochus Epiphanes; [1700] consequently,
the interpretation of them which the Evangelists here lend to Jesus is
a false one. But to proceed to the difficulty which is peculiar to the
prophecy in Matt. xxiv., xxv.: only one side of it, that relating to
Jerusalem, has been fulfilled; the other, that relating to the return
of Jesus and the end of the world, remains unfulfilled. Such a
half-true prophecy as this cannot have been drawn by Jesus from his
higher nature, and he must have been left in this matter to his human
faculties. But that he should be able, by means of these, to foresee a
result, dependent on so many fortuities as was the destruction of
Jerusalem, with its particular circumstances, appears inconceivable;
and hence the conjecture arises, that these discourses, in the
definiteness which they now possess, were not uttered prior to the
issue, consequently not by Jesus, but that they may have been put into
his mouth as prophecies after the issue. Thus Kaiser, for example, is
of opinion that Jesus threatened a terrible fate to the temple and the
nation by means of the Romans, conditionally, in case the nation did
not accept salvation from the Messiah, and described this fate in
prophetic types; but that the unconditional form and the more precise
delineations were given to his discourse post eventum. Credner also
infers, from the circumstances, that incidents accompanying the
destruction of Jerusalem are put into the mouth of Jesus as prophecies,
that the three first gospels cannot have been composed before this
event. [1701] It must certainly be supposed that the prophecy, as we
have it in the two first gospels, was formed immediately after or even
during the issue, since here the appearance of the Messiah is predicted
as an event that would immediately succeed the fall of Jerusalem, which
in later years could no longer be the expectation. As this immediate
chronological connexion of the two catastrophes is not so expressly
made by Luke, it has been supposed that this Evangelist gives the
prophecy as it was modified by experience, that the Messiah’s advent
and the end of the world had in nowise followed close on the
destruction of Jerusalem. [1702]

In opposition to these two opinions, that the prophecy in question had
a supernatural source, and that it was only made after the issue; it is
sought, in a third quarter, to show that what is here predicted, Jesus
might really have known in a natural way. [1703] While, on the one
hand, it is held in the highest degree astonishing that the result
should have so closely corresponded with the most minute features of
the prophecy of Jesus; on the other hand, there are expositors by whom
this correspondence is called in question. The encompassing of
Jerusalem with armies, say they, is precisely what Titus, according to
Josephus, pronounces impossible to be effected; [1704] it is predicted
that a trench χάραξ would be cast about the city, while Josephus
informs us, that after the first attempt at forming an embankment χῶμα
had been rendered useless, by an act of incendiarism on the part of the
besieged, [1705] Titus desisted from his scheme; of false Messiahs,
arising in the interval between the death of Jesus and the destruction
of Jerusalem, history says nothing; the commotions among nations, and
the natural phenomena, in that period, are far from being so important
as they are here represented; but above all, in these prophecies,
especially as they are given in Matthew and Mark, it is not the
destruction of Jerusalem which is predicted, but solely that of the
temple: plain divergencies of the prophecy from the result, which would
not exist, if either a supernatural glance into the future, or a
vaticinium post eventum were concerned.

According to these theologians, we are on the wrong track in seeking
the counterpart of these prophecies forwards, in the result; since it
was backwards, on types presented in the past, that the authors looked.
A mass of such types was furnished by the Jewish conception of the
circumstances which would precede the advent of the Messiah. False
prophets and Messiahs, war, famine and pestilence, earthquakes and
commotions in the heavens, prevalent corruption of manners, persecution
of the faithful servants of Jehovah, were held to be the immediate
harbingers of the messianic kingdom. Moreover, in the prophets there
are descriptions of the tribulation which would presage and accompany
the day of the coming of Jehovah (Isa. xiii. 9 ff.; Joel i. 15, ii. 1
ff., 10 ff., iii. 3 ff., iv. 15 f.; Zeph. i. 14 ff.; Hagg. ii. 7; Zech.
xiv. 1 ff.; Mal. iii. 1 ff.), or which would precede the messianic
kingdom of the saints (Dan. vii.–xii.), as also expressions in later
Jewish writings, [1706] so analogous with our evangelical prediction,
as to put it beyond question, that the description which it gives of
the time of the Messiah’s advent is drawn from a circle of ideas which
had long been current among the Jews.

Another question is, whether the principal feature in the picture
before us, the destruction of the temple and the devastation of
Jerusalem, as introductory to the coming of the Messiah, may also be
shown to have made part of the popular conception in the time of Jesus.
In Jewish writings we find the notion, that the birth of the Messiah
would coincide with the destruction of the sanctuary: [1707] but this
idea was obviously first formed after the fall of the temple, in order
that a fountain of consolation might spring out of the lowest depth of
misery. Josephus finds in Daniel, together with what relates to
Antiochus, a prophecy of the annihilation of the Jewish state by the
Romans: [1708] but as this is not the primary object in any of the
visions in Daniel, Josephus might first make this interpretation after
the issue, in which case it would prove nothing as to the time of
Jesus. Nevertheless, it is conceivable, that already in the time of
Jesus, the Jews might attribute to the prophecies of Daniel a reference
to events yet future, although these prophecies in fact related to a
far earlier period; and they might do so on the same grounds as those
on which the Christians of the present age still look forward to the
full realization of Matt. xxiv. and xxv. As immediately after the fall
of the kingdom made of iron mixed with clay, and of the horn that
speaks blasphemies and makes war against the saints, the coming of the
Son of man in the clouds, and the commencement of the everlasting
kingdom of the saints, is prophesied, while this result had not by any
means succeeded the defeat of Antiochus: there was an inducement still
to look to the future, not only for the heavenly kingdom, but also,
since they were made immediately to precede it, for the calamities
caused by the kingdom of iron and clay; among which calamities, by
analogy with what was predicted of the horn, the desecration of the
temple was conspicuous. But while the prophecy in Daniel includes only
the desecration of the temple and the interruption of the worship,
together with (the partial [1709]) destruction of the city: in the
discourse before us complete destruction is predicted to the temple—and
likewise to the city, not merely in Luke, where the expressions are
very marked, but undoubtedly in the two other Evangelists also, as
appears to be indicated by the exhortation to hasty flight from the
city;—which prediction of total destruction, as it is not contained in
the type, can apparently have been gathered only from the result. But
in the first place, the description in Daniel with the expressions
‏שָׁמֵם‎ and ‏הִשְׁחִית‎ (ix. 26 f., xii. 11), which the LXX. translates by
ἐρήμωσις, desolation, and διαφθείρω, I destroy, may easily be also
understood of a total destruction; and secondly, if once, in connexion
with the sins of the nation, the temple and city had been destroyed and
the people carried away captive, every enthusiastic Israelite, to whom
the religious and moral condition of his fellow-countrymen appeared
corrupt and irremediable, might thenceforth expect and predict a
repetition of that former judgment. According to this, even those
particulars in which, as we have seen in the foregoing section, Luke
surpasses his fellow-narrators in definiteness, are not of a kind to
oblige us to suppose, either a supernatural foreknowledge, or a
vaticinium post eventum: on the contrary, all may be explained by a
close consideration of what is narrated concerning the first
destruction of Jerusalem in 2 Kings xxv.; 2 Chron. xxxvi.; and Jer.
xxxix. 52.

There is only one point which Jesus, as the author of this discourse,
could not have gathered from any types, but must have drawn entirely
from himself: namely, the declaration that the catastrophe which he
described would arrive within the present generation. This prediction
we must hesitate to derive from a supernatural knowledge, for the
reason, already noticed, that it is only half fulfilled: while the
other side of the fact, the striking fulfilment of at least the one
half of the prophecy, might incline us to distrust the supposition of a
merely natural calculation, and to regard this determination of time as
a feature introduced into the discourse of Jesus after the issue.
Meanwhile, it is clear from the passages cited at the conclusion of the
last section, that the apostles themselves expected the return of
Christ to take place within their lifetime; and it is not improbable
that Jesus also believed that this event, together with the ruin of the
city and temple, which according to Daniel was to precede it, was very
near at hand. The more general part of the expectation, namely, the
appearing at some future time in the clouds of heaven, to awake the
dead, to sit in judgment, and to found an everlasting kingdom, would
necessarily, from a consideration of Daniel, where such a coming is
ascribed to the Son of man, be contemplated by Jesus as a part of his
own destiny, so soon as he held himself to be the Messiah; while, with
regard to the time, it was natural that he should not conceive a very
long interval as destined to elapse between his first messianic coming
in humiliation, and his second, in glory.

One objection to the genuineness of the synoptical discourses on the
second advent, is yet in reserve; it has, however, less weight in our
point of view than in that of the prevalent criticism of the gospels.
This objection is derived from the absence of any detailed description
of the second advent of Jesus in the Gospel of John. [1710] It is true
that the fundamental elements of the doctrine of Christ’s return are
plainly discoverable in the fourth gospel also. [1711] Jesus therein
ascribes to himself the offices of the future judgment, and the awaking
of the dead (John v. 21–30); which last is not indeed numbered among
the concomitants of the advent of Christ in the synoptical gospels, but
not seldom appears in that connexion elsewhere in the New Testament
(e.g. 1 Cor. xv. 23; 1 Thess. iv. 16). When Jesus, in the fourth
gospel, sometimes denies that he is come into the world for judgment
(iii. 17, viii. 15, xii. 47), this refers only to his first presence on
earth, and is limited by opposite declarations, in which he asserts
that he is come into the world for judgment (ix. 39, comp. viii. 16),
to the sense that the object of his mission is not to condemn but to
save, and that his judgment is not individual or partial; that it
consists, not in an authoritative sentence proceeding subjectively from
himself, but in an objective act proceeding from the intrinsic tendency
of things, a doctrine which is significantly expressed in the
declaration, that him who hears his word without believing he judges
not, but the word, which he has spoken, shall judge him in the last day
(ὁ λόγος, ὂν ἐλάλησα, κρινεῖ αὐτὸν ἐν τῇ ἐσχάτῃ ἡμέρᾳ, xii. 48).
Further, when the Jesus of John’s gospel says of the believer: οὐ
κρίνεται, he is not judged, εἰς κρίσιν οὐκ ἔρχεται, he shall not come
into judgment (iii. 18, v. 24), this is to be understood of a judgment
with a condemnatory issue; when on the contrary, it is said of the
unbeliever: ἤδη κέκριται, he is judged already (iii. 18), this only
means that the assigning of the merited lot to each is not reserved
until the future judgment at the end of all things, since each one in
his inward disposition bears within himself the fate which is his due.
This does not exclude a future solemn act of judgment, wherein that
which has at present only a latent existence will be made matter of
awful revelation; for in the very passage last quoted we find the
consignment to condemnation, and elsewhere the awarding of future
blessedness (v. 28 f., vi. 39 f., 54), associated with the last day and
the resurrection. In like manner, Jesus says in Luke also, in the same
connexion in which he describes his return as a still future, external
catastrophe, xvii. 20 f.: The kingdom of God cometh not with
observation; neither shall they say, lo here! or, lo there! for behold
the kingdom of God is within you. A certain interpretation of the words
uttered by the Jesus of John’s gospel, supposes him even to intimate
that his return was not far distant. The expressions already mentioned
in the farewell discourses, in which Jesus promises his disciples not
to leave them comfortless, but, after having gone to the Father,
shortly (xvi. 16) to come again to them (xiv. 3, 18), are not seldom
understood of the return of Christ at the last day; [1712] but when we
hear Jesus say of this same return, that he will therein reveal himself
only to his disciples, and not to the world (xiv. 19, comp. 22), it is
impossible to think of it as the return to judgment, in which Jesus
conceived that he should reveal himself to good and bad without
distinction. There is a particularly enigmatical allusion to the coming
of Christ in the appendix to the fourth gospel, chap. xxi.. On the
question of Peter as to what will become of the apostle John, Jesus
here replies, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to
thee? (v. 22) whence, as it is added, the Christians inferred that John
would not die, since they supposed the coming (ἔρχεσθαι) here spoken
of, to be the final return of Christ, in which those who witnessed it
were to be changed, without tasting death (1 Cor. xv. 51 f.). But, adds
the author correctively, Jesus did not say, the disciple would not die,
but only, if he willed that he should tarry till he came, what was that
to Peter? Hereby the Evangelist may have intended to rectify the
inference in two ways. Either it appeared to him erroneous to identify
the remaining until Jesus came, with not dying, i.e. to take the coming
of which Jesus here spoke for the last, which would put an end to
death; and in that case he must have understood by it an invisible
coming of Christ, possibly in the destruction of Jerusalem: [1713] or,
he held it erroneous that what Jesus had only said hypothetically—even
if he willed the given case, that was no concern of Peter’s—should be
understood categorically, as if such had really been the will of Jesus;
in which case the ἔρχομαι would retain its customary sense. [1714]

If, according to this, all the main features of the doctrine of the
second advent are put into the mouth of Jesus in the fourth gospel
also, still we nowhere find anything of the detailed, graphic
description of the external event, which we read in the synoptical
gospels. This relation between the two representations, creates no
slight difficulty on the ordinary view of the origin of the gospels,
and especially that of the fourth. If Jesus really spoke of his return
so fully and solemnly as the synoptists represent him to have done, and
treated of the right knowledge and observation of the signs as
something of the highest importance; it is inconceivable that the
author of the fourth gospel could pass over all this, if he were an
immediate disciple of Jesus. The usual mode of accounting for such an
omission, by the supposition that he believed this part of the teaching
of Jesus to be sufficiently known from the synoptical gospels, or from
oral tradition, is the more inadequate here in proportion as all which
bears a prophetic character, especially when relating to events at once
so much longed for and dreaded, is exposed to misinterpretation; as we
may see from the rectification just noticed, which the author of John
xxi. found it necessary to apply to the opinion of his contemporaries
concerning the promise given by Jesus to John. Thus, in the present
case, an explanatory word would have been highly seasonable and useful,
especially as the representation of the first gospel, which made the
end of all things follow immediately on the destruction of Jerusalem,
must be the more an occasion of doubt and offence the nearer the latter
event came, and in a still greater degree when it was past. And who was
more capable of affording such enlightenment than the favourite
disciple, particularly if, according to Mark xiii. 3, he was the only
Evangelist who had been present at the discourse of Jesus on this
subject? Hence, here again, a special reason for his silence is sought
in the alleged destination of his gospel for non-judaical, idealizing
Gnostics, whose point of view those descriptions would not have suited,
and were therefore omitted. [1715] But precisely in relation to such
readers, it would have been a culpable compliance, a confirmation in
their idealizing tendency, had John, out of deference to them,
suppressed the real side of the return of Christ. The apostle must
rather have withstood the propensity of these people to evaporate the
external, historical part of Christianity, by giving due prominence to
it; as, in his epistle, in opposition to their Docetism, he lays stress
on the corporeality of Jesus: so, in opposition ta their idealism, he
must have been especially assiduous to exhibit in the return of Christ
the external facts by which it would be signalized. Instead of this, he
himself speaks nearly like a Gnostic, and constantly aims, in relation
to the return of Christ, to resolve the external and the future into
the internal and the present. Hence there is not so much exaggeration,
as Olshausen supposes, in the opinion of Fleck, that the representation
of the doctrine of Jesus concerning his return in the synoptical
gospels, and that given in the fourth, exclude each other; [1716] for
if the author of the fourth gospel be an apostle, the discourses on the
second advent which the three first Evangelists attribute to Jesus,
cannot have been so delivered by him, and vice versâ. We, however, as
we have said, cannot avail ourselves of this argument, having long
renounced the pre-supposition that the fourth gospel had an apostolic
origin. But, on our point of view, we can fully explain the relation
which the representation of the fourth gospel bears to that of the
synoptists. In Palestine, where the tradition recorded by the three
first gospels was formed, the doctrine of a solemn advent of the
Messiah which was there prevalent, and which Jesus embraced, was
received in its whole breadth into the Christian belief: whereas in the
Hellenistic-theosophic circle in which the fourth gospel arose, this
idea was divested of its material envelopment, and the return of Christ
became the ambiguous medium between a real and an ideal, a present and
a future event, which it appears in the fourth gospel.

CHAPTER II.

MACHINATIONS OF THE ENEMIES OF JESUS; TREACHERY OF JUDAS; LAST SUPPER
WITH HIS DISCIPLES.

§ 117.

DEVELOPMENT OF THE RELATION OF JESUS TO HIS ENEMIES.

In the three first gospels the principal enemies of Jesus are the
Pharisees and scribes, [1717] who saw in him the most ruinous opponent
of their institutions; together with the chief priests and elders, who,
as the heads of the external temple-worship and the hierarchy founded
upon it, could have no friendly feeling towards one who on every
opportunity represented as the main point, the internal service of God
with the devotion of the mind. Elsewhere we find among the enemies of
Jesus the Sadducees (Matt. xvi. 1, xxii. 23 ff. parall. comp. Matt.
xvi. 6 ff. parall.), to whose materialism much in his opinions must
have been repugnant; and the Herodian party (Mark iii. 6; Matt. xxii.
16 parall.) who, having been unfavourable to the Baptist, were
naturally so to his successor. The fourth gospel, though it sometimes
mentions the chief priests and Pharisees, the most frequently
designates the enemies of Jesus by the general expression: οἱ Ἱουδαῖοι,
the Jews; an expression which proceeds from a later, Christian point of
view.

The four Evangelists unanimously relate, that the more defined
machinations of the Pharisaic-hierarchical party against Jesus, took
their rise from an offence committed by the latter against the
prevalent rules concerning the observation of the sabbath. When Jesus
had cured the man with the withered hand, it is said in Matthew: the
Pharisees went out, and held a council against him, how they might
destroy him (xii. 14, comp. Mark iii. 6; Luke vi. 11); and in like
manner John observes, on the occasion of the Sabbath cure at the pool
of Bethesda: therefore did the Jews persecute Jesus, and after
mentioning a declaration of Jesus, proceeds thus: therefore the Jews
sought the more to kill him (v. 16, 18).

But immediately after this commencing point, the synoptical account of
the relation in question diverges from that of John. In the synoptists,
the next offence is given by the neglect of washing before meals on the
part of Jesus and his disciples, with the sharp invectives which, when
called to account on the subject, he launched forth against the spirit
of petty observance, and the hypocrisy and spirit of persecution with
which it was united in the Pharisees and lawyers; after all which it is
said, that the latter conceived a deep animosity against him, and tried
to sift him and entrap him by dangerous questions, in order to obtain
grounds of accusation against him (Luke xi. 37–54, comp. Matt. xv. 1
ff.; Mark vii. 1 ff.). On his last journey to Jerusalem, the Pharisees
gave Jesus a warning against Herod (Luke xiii. 31), which apparently
had no other object than to induce him to leave the country. The next
important cause of offence to the hierarchical party, was the striking
homage paid to Jesus by the people on his entrance into Jerusalem, and
the purification of the temple which he immediately undertook: but they
were still withheld from any violent measures towards him by the
strength of his interest with the people (Matt. xxi. 15 f.; Mark ix.
18; Luke xix. 39, 47 f.), which was the sole reason why they did not
possess themselves of his person, after the severe manner in which he
had characterized them, in the parable of the husbandmen of the
vineyard (Matt. xxi. 45 f. parall.). After these events, it scarcely
needed the anti-Pharisaic discourse Matt. xxiii. to make the chief
priests, the scribes and elders, i.e. the Sanhedrim, assemble in the
palace of the high priest, shortly before the passover, for a
consultation, that they might take Jesus by subtlety and kill him
(Matt. xxvi. 3 ff. parall.).

In the fourth gospel, also, the great number of the adherents of Jesus
among the people is sometimes, it is true, described as the reason why
his enemies desired to seize him (vii. 32, 44, comp. iv. 1 ff.), and
his solemn entrance into Jerusalem embitters them here also (xii. 19);
sometimes their murderous designs are mentioned without any motive
being stated (vii. 1, 19, 25, viii. 40): but the main cause of offence
in this gospel, lies in the declarations of Jesus concerning his
exalted dignity. Even on the occasion of the cure of the lame man on
the Sabbath, what chiefly irritated the Jews was that Jesus justified
it by appealing to the uninterrupted agency of God as his Father, which
in their opinion was a blasphemous making of himself equal with God,
ἴσον ἑαυτὸν ποιεῖν τῷ θεῷ (v. 18); when he spoke of his divine mission,
they sought to lay hold on him (vii. 30, comp. viii. 20); on his
asserting that he was before Abraham, they took up stones to cast at
him (viii. 59); they did the same when he declared that he and the
Father were one (x. 31), and when he asserted that the Father was in
him and he in the Father, they again attempted to seize him (x. 39).
But that which, according to the fourth gospel, turns the scale, and
causes the hostile party to take a formal resolution against Jesus, is
the resuscitation of Lazarus. When this act was reported to the
Pharisees, they and the chief priests convened a council of the
Sanhedrim, in which the subject of deliberation was, that if Jesus
continued to perform so many signs, σημεῖα, all would at length adhere
to him, and then the Roman power would be exerted to the destruction of
the Jewish nation; whereupon the high priest Caiaphas pronounced the
momentous decision, that it was better for one man to die for the
people than for the whole nation to perish. His death was now
determined upon, and it was enjoined on every one to point out his
abode, that he might be arrested (xi. 46 ff.).

With regard to this difference modern criticism observes, that we
should not at all comprehend the tragical turn of the fate of Jesus
from the synoptical accounts, and that John alone opens to us a glance
into the manner in which, step by step, the breach between the
hierarchical party and Jesus was widened; in short, that in this point
also the representation of the fourth gospel shows itself a pragmatical
one, which that of the other gospels is not. [1718] But what it is in
which the Gospel of John exhibits superiority in gradation and
progress, it is difficult to see, since the very first definite
statement concerning the incipient enmity (v. 18) contains the extreme
of the offence (ἴσον ἑαυτὸν ποιῶν τῷ θεῷ, making himself equal with
God) and the extreme of the enmity (ἐζήτουν αὐτὸν ἀποκτεῖναι, they
sought to kill him); so that all which is narrated further concerning
the hostility of the Jews is mere repetition, and the only fact which
presents itself as a step towards more decided measures is the
resolution of the Sanhedrim, chap. xi.. This species of gradation,
however, is not wanting in the synoptical account also: here we have
the transition from the indefinite laying wait for Jesus, and the
communing what might be done to him (Luke xi. 54, vi. 11), or as it is
more precisely given in Matthew (xii. 14), and in Mark (iii. 6), the
taking counsel how they might destroy him, to the definite resolve as
to the manner (δόλῳ) and the time (μὴ ἐν τῇ ἑορτῇ Matt. xxvi. 4 f.
parall).—But it is especially made a reproach to three first
Evangelists, that in passing over the resurrection of Lazarus, they
have omitted that incident which gave the final impulse to the fate of
Jesus. [1719] If we, on the contrary, in virtue of the above result of
our criticism of this miraculous narrative, must rather praise the
synoptists, that they do not represent as the turning point in the fate
of Jesus, an incident which never really happened: so the fourth
Evangelist, by the manner in which he relates the murderous resolve to
which it was the immediate inducement, by no means manifests himself as
one whose authority can be held by us a sufficient warrant for the
truth of his narrative. The circumstance that he ascribes to the high
priest the gift of prophecy (without doubt in accordance with a
superstitious idea of his age [1720]), and regards his speech as a
prediction of the death of Jesus, would certainly not by itself prove
that he could not have been an apostle and eye-witness. [1721] But it
has with justice been held a difficulty, that our Evangelist designates
Caiaphas as the high priest of that year, ἀρχιερεὺς τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ
ἐκείνου (xi. 49), and thus appears to suppose that this dignity, like
many Roman magistracies, was an annual one; whereas it was originally
held for life, and even in that period of Roman ascendancy, was not a
regular annual office, but was transferred as often as it pleased the
arbitrariness of the Romans. To conclude on the authority of the fourth
gospel, in opposition to the general custom, and notwithstanding the
silence of Josephus, that Annas and Caiaphas, by a private agreement,
held the office for a year by turns, [1722] is an expedient to which
those may resort whom it pleases; to take ἐνιαυτοῦ indefinitely for
χρόνου, [1723] is, from the twofold repetition of the same expression,
v. 51 and xviii. 13, inadmissible; that at that period the high
priesthood was frequently transferred from one to another, and some
high priests were not allowed to remain in their office longer than a
year, [1724] did not justify our author in designating Caiaphas as the
high priest of a particular year, when in fact he filled that post for
a series of years, and certainly throughout the duration of the public
agency of Jesus; lastly, that John intended to say that Caiaphas was
high priest in the year in which Jesus died, without thereby excluding
earlier and later years, in which he also held the office, [1725] is an
equally untenable position. For if the time in which an incident occurs
is described as a certain year, this mode of expression must imply,
that either the incident the date of which is to be determined, or the
fact by which that date is to be determined, is connected with the term
of a year. Thus either the author of the fourth gospel must have been
of the opinion, that from the death of Jesus, to which this decision of
Caiaphas was the initiative step, a plenitude of spiritual gifts,
including the gift of prophecy to the high priest of that period, was
dispensed throughout that particular year, [1726] and no longer; or, if
this be a far-fetched explanation, he must have imagined that Caiaphas
was high priest for the term of that year only. Lücke concludes that
as, according to Josephus, the high priest of that period held his
office for ten years successively, therefore John cannot have meant, by
the expression ἀρχιερεὺς τοῦ ἐνιαυτοῦ ἐκείνου, that the office of high
priest was an annual one; whereas the author of the Probabilia, on the
ground that the evidence of this meaning in the words of the gospel, is
far more certain than that John is its author, reverses this
proposition, and concludes, that as the fourth gospel here presents an
idea concerning the duration of the office of high priest which could
not be entertained in Palestine, therefore its author cannot have been
a native of Palestine. [1727]

Of the further statements also, as to the points in which Jesus gave
offence to the hierarchy of his nation, those which the synoptists have
alone, or in common with John, are credible; those which are peculiar
to the latter, not so. Among those which are common to both sides, the
solemn entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem, and the strong attachment of
the people to him, were equally natural causes of offence with his
discourses and actions in opposition to the sabbatical institutions, in
whatever the latter may have consisted: on the contrary, the manner in
which, according to the fourth gospel, the Jews take offence at the
declarations of Jesus concerning himself as the Son of God, is,
according to our earlier analysis, [1728] as inconceivable, as it is
consistent with the common order of things that the polemical tone
towards the Pharisees which the first Evangelists all lend to Jesus,
should irritate the party attacked. Thus no new or more profound
insight into the causes and motives of the reaction against Jesus, is
to be obtained from the fourth gospel: but the information which the
synoptists have preserved to us fully suffices to make that fact
intelligible.

§ 118.

JESUS AND HIS BETRAYER.

Although it had been resolved in the council of the chief priests and
elders, that the feast time should be allowed to pass over before any
measures were taken against Jesus, because any act of violence against
him in these days might easily excite an insurrection, on the part of
his numerous adherents among the visitants to the feast (Matt. xxvi. 5;
Mark xiv. 2): yet this consideration was superseded by the facility
with which one of his disciples offered to deliver him into their
hands. Judas, surnamed Ἰσκαριώτης, doubtless on account of his origin
from the Jewish city of Kerioth [1729] (Josh. xv. 25), went, according
to the synoptists, a few days before the passover, to the heads of the
priesthood, and volunteered to deliver Jesus quietly into their hands,
for which service they promised him money, according to Matthew, thirty
pieces of silver (ἀργύρια, Matt xxvi. 14 ff. parall.). Of such an
antecedent transaction between Judas and the enemies of Jesus, the
fourth gospel not only says nothing, but appears moreover to represent
the matter as if Judas had not formed the determination of betraying
Jesus to the priesthood, until the last supper, and had then promptly
put it into execution. The same entering (εἰσελθεῖν) of Satan into
Judas, which Luke (xxii. 3) places before his first interview with the
chief priests, and before any preparation had been made for Jesus and
his disciples to eat the passover together, is represented by the
author of the fourth gospel as occurring at this meal, before Judas
left the company (xiii. 27): a proof, as it appears, that in the
opinion of this Evangelist, Judas now made his first traitorous visit.
He does indeed observe, before the meal (xiii. 2), that the devil had
put it into the heart of Judas to betray Jesus, and this τοῦ διαβόλον
βεβληκότος εἰς τὴν καρδίαν is commonly regarded as the parallel of
Luke’s εἰσηλθε σατανᾶς (Satan entered into him), being understood to
imply the formation of the treacherous resolve, in consequence of which
Judas went to the chief priests: but if he had previously been in
treaty with them, the betrayal was already completed, and it is then
not easy to perceive what can be meant by the words εἰσῆλθεν εἰς αὐτὸν
ὁ σατανᾶς on the occasion of the last meal, since the summoning of
those who were to seize Jesus was no new diabolical resolution, but
only the execution of that which had already been embraced. The
expression in John v. 27 only obtains an entirely consistent sense in
distinction from v. 2, when the βα’λλειν εἰς τὴν καρδίαν in the latter,
is understood of the rising of the thought, the εἰσελθεῖν in the
former, of the ripening of this thought into resolution, the
supposition that Judas had pledged himself to the chief priests before
the meal being thus excluded. [1730] In this manner, however, the
statement of the synoptists that Judas, some time before the
perpetration of his treacherous act, made a bargain with the enemies of
Jesus, stands in contradiction with that of John, that he only put
himself in league with them immediately before the deed; and here Lücke
decides in favour of John, maintaining it to be after his departure
from the last supper (xiii. 30), that Judas made that application to
the chief priests which the synoptists (Matt. xxvi. 14 f. parall.)
place before the meal. [1731] But this decision of Lücke’s is founded
solely on deference to the presupposed authority of John; for even if,
as he remarks, Judas could very well obtain an interview with the
priests when night had commenced: still, regarding the matter apart
from any presuppositions, the probability is beyond comparison stronger
on the side of the synoptists, who allow some time for the affair, than
on that of John, according to whom it is altogether sudden, and Judas,
truly as if he were possessed, rushes out when it is already night to
treat with the priests, and immediately hurry to the deed.

Concerning the motives which induced Judas to league himself with the
enemies of Jesus, we learn from the three first gospels no more than
that he received money from the chief priests. This would indicate that
he was actuated by covetousness, especially according to the narrative
in Matthew, where Judas, before he promises to betray Jesus, puts the
question, What will ye give me? Clearer light is thrown on this subject
by the statement of the fourth gospel (xii. 4 ff.), that on the
occasion of the meal in Bethany, Judas was indignant at the anointing,
as an unnecessary expenditure,—that he carried the purse, and acted the
thief in that office; whence it might be supposed that the avarice of
Judas, no longer satisfied by his peculations on the funds of the
society, hoped to reap a more considerable harvest by betraying Jesus
to the rich and powerful sacerdotal party. We must hold ourselves under
obligation to the author of the fourth gospel, that by the preservation
of these particulars, which are wanting in the other Evangelists, he
has made the act of Judas somewhat more comprehensible,—so soon as his
statements are shown to have an historical foundation. We have shown
above, however, how improbable it is that, had that censure really
proceeded from Judas, the legend should have lost this trait; [1732]
how probable, on the other hand, a legendary origin of it, it is easy
to discern. The meal at Bethany stood in the evangelical tradition near
to the end of the life of Jesus, an end brought about by the treachery
of Judas;—how easily might the thought arise in some one, that the
narrow-minded censure of a noble prodigality could only come from the
covetous Judas? That the censure at the same time turned upon the
propriety of selling the ointment for the benefit of the poor, could in
the mouth of Judas be only a pretext, behind which he concealed his
selfishness: but advantage to himself from the sale of the ointment
could not be expected by him, unless he allowed himself to purloin some
of the money saved; and this again he could not do unless he were the
purse-bearer. If it thus appear possible for the statement that Judas
was a thief and had the bag, to have had an unhistorical origin: we
have next to inquire whether there are any reasons for supposing that
such was actually the case.

Here we must take into consideration another point on which the
synoptists and John differ, namely, the foreknowledge of Jesus that
Judas would betray him. In the synoptical gospels, Jesus first
manifests this knowledge at the last supper, consequently at a time in
which the deed of Judas had virtually been perpetrated; and apparently
but a short time before, Jesus had so little presentiment that one of
the twelve would be lost to him, that he promised them all, without
exception, the honour of sitting on twelve thrones of judgment in the
palingenesia (Matt. xix. 28). According to John, on the contrary, Jesus
declares shortly before the time of the last passover but one,
consequently a year before the result, that one of the twelve is a
devil, διάβολος, meaning, according to the observation of the
Evangelist, Judas, as his future betrayer (vi. 70); for, as it had been
observed shortly before (v. 64), Jesus knew from the beginning,—who
should betray him. According to this, Jesus knew from the commencement
of his acquaintance with Judas, that this disciple would prove a
traitor; and not merely did he foresee this external issue, but also,
since he knew what was in man (John ii. 25), he must have penetrated
the motives of Judas, namely, covetousness and love of money. And, if
so, would he have made him purse-bearer, i.e. placed him in a position
in which his propensity to seek gain by any means, even though
dishonest, must have had the most abundant nourishment? Would he have
made him a thief by giving him opportunity, and thus, as if designedly,
have brought up in him a betrayer for himself? Considered simply in an
economical point of view, who entrusts a purse to one of whom he knows
that he robs it? Then, in relation to the idea of Jesus as a moral
teacher, who places the weak in a situation which so constantly appeals
to his weak point, as to render it certain that he will sooner or later
give way to the temptation? No truly: Jesus assuredly did not so play
with the souls immediately entrusted to him, did not exhibit to them so
completely the opposite of what he taught them to pray for, lead us not
into temptation (Matt. vi. 13), as to have made Judas, of whom he
foreknew that he would become his betrayer out of covetousness, the
purse-bearer of his society; or, if he gave him this office, he cannot
have had such a foreknowledge.

In order to arrive at a decision in this alternative, we must consider
that foreknowledge separately, and inquire whether, apart from the
treasurership of Judas, it be probable or not? We shall not enter on
the question of the psychological possibility, because there is always
freedom of appeal to the divine nature of Jesus; but with regard to the
moral possibility it is to be asked, whether presupposing that
foreknowledge, it be justifiable in Jesus to have chosen Judas among
the twelve, and to have retained him within this circle? As it was only
by this vocation that his treachery as such could be rendered possible;
so Jesus appears, if he foresaw this treachery, to have designedly
drawn him into the sin. It is urged that intercourse with Jesus
afforded Judas the possibility of escaping that abyss: [1733] but Jesus
is supposed to have foreseen that this possibility would not be
realized. It is further said that even in other circles the evil
implanted in Judas would not the less have developed itself in a
different form: a proposition which has a strong tinge of fatalism.
Again, when it is said to be of no avail to a man that the evil, the
germ of which lies within him, should not be developed, this appears to
lead to consequences which are repudiated by the apostle Paul, Rom.
iii. 8, vi. 1 f. And regarding the subject in relation to feeling
merely,—how could Jesus endure to have a man, of whom he knew that he
would be his betrayer, and that all instruction would be fruitless to
him, as his constant attendant throughout the whole period of his
public life? Must not the presence of such a person have every hour
interfered with his confidential intercourse with the rest of the
twelve? Assuredly they must have been weighty motives, for the sake of
which Jesus imposed on himself anything so repugnant and difficult.
Such motives or objects must either have had relation to Judas, and
thus have consisted in the design to make him better—which however was
precluded by the decided foreknowledge of his crime; or they must have
had relation to Jesus himself and his work, i.e. Jesus had the
conviction that if the work of redemption by means of his death were to
be effected, there must be one to betray him. [1734] But for the
purpose of redemption, according to the Christian theory, the death of
Jesus was the only indispensable means: whether this should be brought
about by a betrayal, or in any other way, was of no moment, and that
the enemies of Jesus must, earlier or later, have succeeded in getting
him into their power without the aid of Judas, is undeniable. That the
betrayer was indispensable in order to bring about the death of Jesus
exactly at the passover, which was a type of himself [1735]—with such
trivialities it will scarcely be attempted to put us off in these days.

If then we are unable to discover any adequate motive which could
induce Jesus advertently to receive and retain in his society his
betrayer in the person of Judas: it appears decided that he cannot
beforehand have known him to be such. Schleiermacher, in order that he
may not infringe on the authority of John by denying this
foreknowledge, prefers doubting that Jesus chose the twelve purely by
his own act, and supposes that this circle was rather formed by the
voluntary adherence of the disciples: since it would be more easy to
justify the conduct of Jesus, if he merely refrained from rejecting
Judas when he spontaneously offered himself than if he drew him to
himself by free choice. [1736] But hereby the authority of John is
still endangered, for it is he who makes Jesus say to the twelve: Ye
have not chosen me, but I have chosen you (xv. 16, comp. vi. 76);
moreover, even dismissing the idea of a decided act of election, still
for any one to remain constantly with Jesus there needed his permission
and sanction, and even these he could not, acting humanly, give to a
man of whom he knew that, by means of this relation to himself, he
would be enabled to mature the blackest crime. It is said, however,
that Jesus put himself entirely into the Divine point of view, and
admitted Judas into his society, for the sake of the possibility of
reformation which he yet foreknew would never be realised; but this
would be a Divine inhumanity,—not the conduct of the God-man. If,
according to this, it is extremely difficult to maintain as historical
the statement of the fourth gospel, that Jesus from the beginning knew
Judas to be his betrayer: so it is equally easy to discern what even
without historical foundation might lead to such a representation.

It would be natural to suppose, that the fact of Jesus being betrayed
by one of his own disciples, would be injurious to him in the eyes of
his enemies, even if we did not know that Celsus, in the character of a
Jew, reproached Jesus that he was betrayed by one of those whom he
called his disciples, ὅτι ὑφ’ ὦ ὠνόμαζε μαθητῶν προὐδόθη, as a proof
that he was less able to attach his followers to himself than every
robber-chief. [1737] Now as the injurious consequences to be drawn from
the ignominious death of Jesus, appeared to be most completely obviated
by the assertion that he had long foreknown his death: so, the
arguments against Jesus derived from the treachery of Judas, might seem
to be most effectually repelled by the statement, that he had
penetrated into the character of the traitor from the first, and could
have escaped what his treason prepared for him; since this would
involve the inference that he had exposed himself to the effects of his
faithlessness by his own free will, and out of higher considerations.
[1738] This method included a second advantage, which attaches to the
enunciator of every prediction alleged to be fulfilled, and which the
fourth Evangelist naively makes his Jesus express, when, after the
exposure of the betrayer, he puts into his mouth the words: Now I tell
you before it come, that when it is come to pass, ye may believe that I
am he (xiii. 19)—In fact, the best motto for every vaticinium post
eventum. These two objects were the more completely attained, the
earlier the period in the life of Jesus to which this foreknowledge was
referred; whence it is to be explained why the author of the fourth
gospel, not satisfied with the ordinary representation, that Jesus
predicted his betrayal by Judas at the last supper, placed his
knowledge on this subject in the commencement of the connexion between
him and Judas. [1739]

This early knowledge on the part of Jesus concerning the treachery of
Judas being dismissed as unhistorical, there would be room for the
statement that Judas carried the purse of the society; since this
particular only appeared incompatible with the above foreknowledge,
while, if Jesus was in general mistaken in Judas, he might, under this
error, have entrusted the funds to him. But by the proof that the
representation of John, in relation to the knowledge of Jesus
concerning his betrayer, is a fictitious one, its credibility in this
matter is so shaken, that no confidence can be placed in the other
statement. If the author of the fourth gospel has embellished the
relation between Jesus and Judas on the side connected with Jesus, he
can scarcely have left the side of Judas unadorned; if he has
introduced the fact, that Jesus was betrayed, by making Jesus foresee
this part of his destiny, his other statement, that Judas had
beforehand exhibited his avarice by a dishonest use of the common
purse, may easily be only an introduction to the fact, that Jesus was
betrayed by Judas.

But even though we renounce the information given by John concerning
the character and motives of Judas: we still retain, in the
forementioned statement of the synoptists, the most decided intimation
that the chief motive of his deed was covetousness.

§ 119.

DIFFERENT OPINIONS CONCERNING THE CHARACTER OF JUDAS, AND THE MOTIVES
OF HIS TREACHERY.

From the earliest to the latest times there have been persons, who have
held opinions at issue with this view of the New Testament writers
concerning the motives of Judas, and with their entirely reprobatory
judgment upon them (comp. Acts i. 16 ff.); and this divergency has
arisen partly out of an exaggerated supranaturalism, and partly out of
a rationalistic bias.

An over-strained supranaturalism, proceeding from the point of view
presented in the New Testament itself, namely, that the death of Jesus,
decreed in the Divine plan of the world for the salvation of mankind,
might even regard Judas, by whose treachery the death of Jesus was
brought about, as a blameless instrument in the hand of Providence, a
co-operator in the redemption of mankind. He might be placed in this
light by the supposition that he had knowledge of that Divine decree,
and that its fulfilment was the object at which he aimed in betraying
Jesus. We actually find this mode of viewing the subject on the part of
the gnostic sect of the Cainites, who, according to the ancient writers
on heresies, held that Judas had liberated himself from the narrow
Jewish opinions of the other disciples and attained to the gnosis, and
accordingly betrayed Jesus because he knew that by his death the
kingdom of the inferior spirits who ruled the world would be
overthrown. [1740] Others in the early church admitted that Judas
betrayed Jesus out of covetousness; maintaining, however, that he did
not anticipate the death of Jesus as a consequence of his betrayal, but
supposed that he would, as he had often previously done, escape from
his enemies by an exertion of his supernatural power: [1741] an opinion
which forms the transition to the modern methods of justifying the
traitor.

As the above mentioned supranaturalistic exaltation of Judas by the
Cainites immediately proceeded from their antagonistic position with
respect to Judaism, in virtue of which they had made it a principle to
honour all who were blamed by the Jewish authors of the Old Testament,
and the judaizing authors of the New, and vice versâ: so Rationalism
especially in its first indignation at the long subjection of the
reason to the fetters of authority, felt a certain delight both in
divesting of their nimbus those biblical personages who according to
its views had been too zealously deified by orthodoxy, and also in
defending and elevating those who were condemned or depreciated by the
latter. Hence, in the Old Testament, the exaltation of Esau over Jacob,
of Saul over Samuel; in the New, of Martha over Mary, the eulogiums on
the doubting Thomas, and now the apology even for the traitor Judas.
According to some, he became a criminal out of injured honour: the
manner in which Jesus reproved him at the meal at Bethany, and, in
general, the inferior degree of regard which he experienced in
comparison with other disciples, converted his love for his teacher
into hatred and revenge. [1742] Others have preferred the conjecture
preserved by Theophylact, that Judas may have hoped to see Jesus this
time also escape from his enemies. Some have taken up this idea in the
supranaturalistic sense, supposing it to be the expectation of Judas
that Jesus would set himself at liberty by an exertion of his
miraculous power; [1743] others consistently with their point of view
have supposed that Judas may probably have expected that if Jesus were
taken prisoner the people would raise an insurrection in his favour and
set him at liberty. [1744] These opinions represent Judas as one who,
in common with the other disciples, conceived the messianic kingdom as
an earthly and political one, and hence was discontented that Jesus so
long abstained from availing himself of the popular favour, in order to
assume the character of the messianic ruler. Instigated either by
attempts at bribery on the part of the Sanhedrim, or by the rumour of
their plan to seize Jesus in secret after the feast, Judas sought to
forestall this project, which must have been fatal to Jesus, and to
bring about his arrest before the expiration of the feast time, in
which he might certainly hope to see Jesus liberated by an
insurrection, by which means he would be compelled at last to throw
himself into the arms of the people, and thus take the decisive step
towards the establishment of his dominion. When he heard Jesus speak of
the necessity of his being captured, and of his rising again in three
days, he understood these expressions as an intimation of the
concurrence of Jesus in his plan; under this mistake, he partly failed
to hear, and partly misinterpreted, his additional admonitory
discourse; and especially understood the words: What thou doest, do
quickly, as an actual encouragement to the execution of his design. He
took the thirty pieces of silver from the priests either to conceal his
real intentions under the appearance of covetousness, and thus to lull
every suspicion on their part; or, because, while he expected an
exaltation to one of the first places in the kingdom of his master, he
was not unwilling to combine with it even that small advantage. But
Judas had miscalculated in two points: first, in not considering that
after the feasting of the paschal night, the people would not be early
on the alert for an insurrection; secondly, in overlooking the
probability, that the Sanhedrim would hasten to deliver Jesus into the
hands of the Romans, from whom a popular insurrection would hardly
suffice to deliver him. Thus Judas is supposed to be either an honest
man misunderstood, [1745] or a deluded one, who however was of no
common character, but exhibited even in his despair the wreck of
apostolic greatness; [1746] or, he is supposed, by evil means, indeed,
to have sought the attainment of an object, which was nevertheless
good. [1747] Neander imagines the two opposite opinions concerning
Jesus, the supernatural and the natural, to have presented themselves
to the mind of Judas in the form of a dilemma, so that he reasoned
thus: if Jesus is the Messiah, a delivery into the hands of his enemies
will, owing to his supernatural power, in no way injure him, but will,
on the contrary, serve to accelerate his glorification: if, on the
other hand, he is not the Messiah, he deserves destruction. According
to this, the betrayal was merely a test, by which the doubting disciple
meant to try the messiahship of his master. [1748]

Among these views, that which derives the treachery of Judas from
wounded ambition, is the only one which can adduce a positive
indication in its favour: namely, the repulse which the traitor drew on
himself from Jesus at the meal in Bethany. But against such an appeal
to this reproof we have already, on another occasion, applied the
remark of the most recent criticism, that its mildness, especially as
compared with the far more severe rebuke administered to Peter, Matt.
xvi. 23, must forbid our attributing to it such an effect as the
rancour which it is supposed to have engendered in Judas; [1749] while
that in other instances he was less considered than his
fellow-disciples, we have nowhere any trace.

All the other conjectures as to what was properly the motive of the
deed of Judas, can only be supported by negative grounds, i.e. grounds
which make it improbable in general that his project had a bad aim, and
in particular, that his motive was covetousness; a positive proof, that
he intended to further the work of Jesus, and especially that he was
actuated by violent political views of the Messiah’s kingdom, is not to
be discovered.—That Judas had in general no evil designs against Jesus
is argued chiefly from the fact, that after the delivery of Jesus to
the Romans, and the inevitableness of his death had come to his
knowledge, he fell into despair; this being regarded as a proof that he
had expected an opposite result. But not only does the unfortunate
result of crime, as Paulus thinks, but also its fortunate result, that
is, its success, “exhibit that which had before been veiled under a
thousand extenuating pretexts, in all the blackness of its real form.”
Crime once become real, once passed into act, throws off the mask which
it might wear while it remained merely ideal, and existed in thought
alone; hence, as little as the repentance of many a murderer, when he
sees his victim lie before him, proves that he did not really intend to
commit the murder; so little can the anguish of Judas, when he saw
Jesus beyond rescue, prove that he had not beforehand contemplated the
death of Jesus as the issue of his deed.

But, it is further said, covetousness cannot have been the motive of
Judas; for if gain had been his object, he could not be blind to the
fact that the continued charge of the purse in the society of Jesus,
would yield him more than the miserable thirty pieces of silver (from
20 to 25 thalers, [1750] of our money), a sum which among the Jews
formed the compensation for a wounded slave, being four months’ wages.
But these thirty pieces of silver are in vain sought for in any other
narrator than Matthew. John is entirely silent as to any reward offered
to Judas by the priests; Mark and Luke speak indefinitely of money
ἀργύριον, which they had promised him; and Peter in the Acts (i. 18)
merely mentions a reward, μισθὸς, which Judas obtained. Matthew,
however, who alone has that definite sum, leaves us at the same time in
no doubt as to the historical value of his statement. After relating
the end of Judas (xxvii. 9 f.), he cites a passage from Zechariah (xi.
12 f.; he ascribes it by mistake to Jeremiah), wherein likewise thirty
pieces of silver appear as a price at which some one is valued. It is
true that in the prophetic passage the thirty pieces of silver are not
given as purchase money, but as hire; he to whom they are paid is the
prophet, the representative of Jehovah, and the smallness of the sum is
an emblem of the slight value which the Jews set upon the divine
benefits so plentifully bestowed on them. [1751] But how easily might
this passage, where there was mention of a shamefully low price
(ironically a goodly price ‏אֶדֶר הַיְקָר‎), at which the Israelites had
rated the speaker in the prophecy, remind a Christian reader of his
Messiah, who, in any case, had been sold for a paltry price compared
with his value, and hence be led to determine by this passage, the
price which was paid to Judas for betraying Jesus. [1752] Thus the
thirty pieces of silver, τριάκοντα ἀργύρια, present no support to those
who would prove that it could not be the reward which made Judas a
traitor; for they leave us as ignorant as ever how great or how small
was the reward which Judas received. Neither can we, with Neander,
conclude that the sum was trifling from Matt xxvii. 6 ff.; Acts i. 18,
where it is said that a field, ἀγρὸς or χωρίον, was purchased with the
reward assigned to the treachery of Judas; since, even apart from the
historical value of that statement, hereafter to be examined, the two
expressions adduced may denote a larger or a smaller piece of land, and
the additional observations of Matthew, that it was destined to bury
strangers in, εἰς ταφὴν τοῖς ξένοις will not allow us to think of a
very small extent. How the same theologian can discover in the
statement of the two intermediate Evangelists, that the Jewish rulers
had promised Judas money, ἀργύριον, an intimation that the sum was
small, it is impossible to conceive.—Far more weighty is the
observation above made with a different aim, that Jesus would scarcely
have appointed and retained as purse-bearer one whom he knew to be
covetous even to dishonesty; whence Neander directly infers that the
fourth Evangelist, when he derived the remark of Judas at the meal in
Bethany from his covetousness, put a false construction upon it, in
consequence of the idea which ultimately prevailed respecting Judas,
and especially added the accusation, that Judas robbed the common fund,
out of his own imagination. [1753] But in opposition to this it is to
be asked, whether in Neander’s point of view it be admissible to impute
to the apostle John, who is here understood to be the author of the
fourth gospel, so groundless a calumny—for such it would be according
to Neander’s supposition; and, in our point of view, it would at least
be more natural to conclude, that Jesus indeed knew Judas to be fond of
money, but did not until the last believe him to be dishonest, and
hence did not consider him unfit for the post in question. Neander
observes in conclusion: if Judas could be induced by money to betray
Jesus, he must have long lost all true faith in him. This indeed
follows of necessity, and must be supposed in every view of the
subject; but this extinction of faith could of itself only lead him to
go back, ἀπελθειν εἰς τὰ ὀπίσω (John vi. 66); in order to prompt him to
meditate treachery there must be a further, special incitement, which,
intrinsically, might just as well be covetousness, as the views which
are attributed to him by Neander and others.

That covetousness, considered as such an immediate motive, suffices to
explain the deed of Judas, I will not maintain; I only contend that any
other motives are neither stated nor anywhere intimated in the gospels,
and that consequently every hypothesis as to their existence is built
on the air. [1754]

§ 120.

PREPARATION FOR THE PASSOVER.

On the first day of unleavened bread, in the evening of which the
paschal lamb was to be slain, consequently, the day before the feast
properly speaking, which however commenced on that evening, i.e. the
14th of Nisan, Jesus, according to the two first Evangelists, in
compliance with a question addressed to Him by the disciples,
sent—Matthew leaves it undecided which and how many, Mark says, two
disciples, whom Luke designates as Peter and John—to Jerusalem (perhaps
from Bethany), to bespeak a place in which he might partake of the
passover with them, and to make the further arrangements (Matt. xxvi.
17 ff. parall.). The three narrators do not altogether agree as to the
directions which Jesus gave to these disciples. According to all, he
sends them to a man of whom they had only to desire, in the name of
their master διδάσκαλος, a place in which to celebrate the passover, in
order at once to have their want supplied: but first, this locality is
more particularly described by the two intermediate Evangelists than by
Matthew, namely as a large upper room, which was already furnished and
prepared for the reception of guests; and secondly, the manner in which
they were to find the owner, is described by the former otherwise than
by the latter. Matthew makes Jesus merely say to the disciples, that
they were to go to such a man, πρὸς τὸν δεῖνα: the others, that, being
come into the city, they would meet a man bearing a pitcher of water,
whom they were to follow into the house which he should enter, and
there make their application to the owner.

In this narrative there have been found a multitude of difficulties,
which Gabler has assembled in a special treatise. [1755] At the very
threshold of the narrative it occasions surprise, that Jesus should not
have thought of any preparation for the passover until the last day,
nay, that he should even then have needed to be reminded of it by the
disciples, as the two first Evangelists tell us: for owing to the great
influx of people at the time of the passover (2,700,000, according to
Josephus), [1756] the accommodations in the city were soon disposed of,
and the majority of the strangers were obliged to encamp in tents
before the city. It is the more remarkable, then, that, notwithstanding
all this the messengers of Jesus find the desired chamber disengaged,
and not only so, but actually kept in reserve by the owner and prepared
for a repast, as if he had had a presentiment that it would be bespoken
by Jesus. And so confidently is this reckoned on by Jesus that he
directs his disciples to ask the owner of the house,—not whether he can
obtain from him a room in which to eat the passover, but merely—where
the guest-chamber appropriated to this purpose may be? or, if we take
Matthew’s account, he directs them to say to him that he will eat the
passover at his house; to which it must be added that, according to
Mark and Luke, Jesus even knows what kind of chamber will be assigned
him, and in what part of the house it is situated. But the way in
which, according to these two Evangelists, the two disciples were to
find their way to the right house, is especially remarkable. The words
ὑπάγετε εἰς τὴν πόλιν πρὸς τὸν δεῖνα in Matthew (v. 18), sound as if
Jesus had named the person to whom the disciples were to go, but that
the narrator either would not or could not repeat it: whereas in the
two other Evangelists, Jesus indicates the house into which they were
to enter, by means of a person whom they would meet carrying a vessel
of water. Now how could Jesus in Bethany, or wherever else he might be,
foreknow this accidental circumstance, unless, indeed, it had been
pre-concerted that at this particular time a servant from the house
should appear with a vessel of water, and thus await the messengers of
Jesus? To the rationalistic expositors everything in our narrative
appeared to point to a preconcerted arrangement; and this being
presupposed, they believed that all its difficulties would at once be
solved. The disciples, dispatched so late, could only find a room
disengaged if it had been previously bespoken by Jesus; he could only
direct them to address the owner of the house so categorically, if he
had already previously made an arrangement with him; this would explain
the precise knowledge of Jesus as to the locality, and, lastly, (the
point from which this explanation sets out), his certainty that the
disciples would meet a man carrying water from that particular house.
This circumlocutory manner of indicating the house, which might have
been avoided by the simple mention of the owner’s name, is supposed to
have been adopted by Jesus, that the place where he intended to keep
the passover might not be known before the time to the betrayer, who
would otherwise perhaps have surprised him there, and thus have
disturbed the repast. [1757]

But such is not at all the impression produced by the evangelical
narrative. Of a preconcerted arrangement, of a previous bespeaking of
the apartment, it says nothing; on the contrary, the words, they found
as he had said unto them, in Mark and Luke, seem intended to convey the
idea that Jesus was able to predict everything as they afterwards
actually found it; a solicitous foresight is nowhere indicated, but
rather a miraculous foreknowledge. Here, in fact, as above in the
procuring of the animal for the entrance into Jerusalem, we have a
twofold miracle: first, the fact that everything stands ready to supply
the wants of Jesus, and that no one is able to withstand the power of
his name; secondly, the ability of Jesus to take cognizance of distant
circumstances, and to predict the merest fortuities. [1758] It must
create surprise that, forcibly as this supranaturalistic conception of
the narrative before us urges itself upon the reader, Olshausen himself
seeks to elude it, by arguments which would nullify most of the
histories of miracles, and which we are accustomed to hear only from
rationalists. To the impartial expositor, he says, [1759] the narrative
does not present the slightest warrant for a miraculous interpretation
(we almost fancy ourselves transported into the commentary of Paulus);
if the narrators intended to recount a miracle, they must have
expressly observed that no previous arrangement had been made
(precisely the rationalistic demand—if a cure were meant to be
recognised as a miracle, the application of natural means must have
been expressly denied); moreover the object of such a miracle is not to
be discerned, a strengthening of the faith of the disciples was not
then necessary, nor was it to be effected by this unimportant miracle,
after the more exalted ones which had preceded it:—grounds on which the
thoroughly similar narrative of the procuring of the ass for the
entrance, which Olshausen upholds as a miracle, would be equally
excluded from the sphere of the supernatural.

The present narrative, indeed, is so strikingly allied to the earlier
one just mentioned, that in relation to their historical reality, the
same judgment must be passed on both. In the one as in the other, Jesus
has a want, the speedy supply of which is so cared for by God, that
Jesus foreknows to the minutest particular the manner in which it is to
be supplied; in the one he needs a guest chamber, as in the other an
animal on which to ride; in the one as in the other, he sends out two
disciples, to bespeak the thing required; in the one he gives them as a
sign by which to find the right house—a man carrying water whom they
are to meet, as in the other they have a sign in the circumstance of
the ass being tied where two roads meet; in the one as in the other, he
directs his disciples simply to mention him to the owner, in the one
case as the master, διδάσκαλος, in the other, as the lord, κύριος, in
order to ensure unhesitating compliance with his demand; in both
instances the result closely corresponds to his prediction. In the
narrative more immediately under our consideration, as in the earlier
one, there is wanting an adequate object, for the sake of which so
manifold a miracle should have been ordained; while the motive which
might occasion the development of the miraculous narrative in the
primitive Christian legend is obvious. An Old Testament narrative, to
which we have already had occasion to refer in connexion with the
earlier miracle, is still more strikingly recalled by the one before
us. After disclosing to Saul that he was destined to be King of Israel,
Samuel, as a sign of the truth of this more remote announcement,
foretells whom Saul will meet on his return homewards: namely, first
two men with the information that his father’s asses are found; then
three others, who will be carrying animals for sacrifice, bread and
wine, and will offer him some of the bread, etc. (1 Sam. x. 1 ff.):
whence we see by what kind of predictions the Hebrew legend made its
prophets attest their inspiration.

As regards the relation of the gospels to each other, the narrative of
Matthew is commonly placed far below that of the two other synoptists,
and regarded as the later and more traditional. [1760] The circumstance
of the man carrying water, especially, is held to have belonged to the
original fact, but to have been lost in tradition before the narrative
reached Matthew, who inserted in its place the enigmatical ὑπάγετε πρὸς
τὸν δεῖνα, go to such a man. But we have seen, on the contrary, that
the δεῖνα presents no difficulty; while the circumstance of the
water-bearer is in the highest degree enigmatical. [1761] Still less is
the omission of Matthew to designate the two commissioned disciples as
Peter and John, an indication that the narrative of the third gospel is
the more original one. For when Schleiermacher says that this trait
might easily be lost in the course of transmission through several
hands, but that it could scarcely have been added by a later hand,—the
latter half of his proposition, at least, is without foundation. There
is little probability that Jesus should have assigned so purely
economical an office to the two most eminent disciples; whereas it is
easy to conceive that in the first instance it was simply narrated, as
by Matthew, that Jesus sent the disciples or some disciples, that
hereupon the number was fixed at two, perhaps from the narrative of the
procuring of the ass, and that at length, as the appointment had
relation to a task which was ultimately of high importance,—the
preparing of the last meal of Jesus,—these places were filled by the
two chief apostles, so that in this instance even Mark appears to have
kept nearer to the original fact, since he has not adopted into his
narrative the names of the two disciples, which are presented by Luke.

§ 121.

DIVERGENT STATEMENTS RESPECTING THE TIME OF THE LAST SUPPER.

Not only does the fourth Evangelist omit all mention of the above
arrangements for the paschal meal; he also widely diverges from the
synoptists in relation to the meal itself. Independently of the
difference which runs throughout the description of the scene, and
which can only be hereafter considered, he appears, in regard to the
time of the meal, to represent it as occurring before the passover, as
decidedly as it is represented by the synoptists to be the paschal meal
itself.

When we read in the latter, that the day on which the disciples were
directed by Jesus to prepare for the meal, was already the first day of
unleavened bread, ἡ πρώτη τῶν ἀζύμων, when the passover must be killed,
ἐν ᾗ ἔδει θύεσθαι τὸ πάσχα (Matt. xxvi. 17 parall.): we cannot suppose
the meal in question to have been any other than the paschal; further,
when the disciples ask Jesus, Where wilt thou that we prepare for thee
to eat the passover? ποῦ θέλεις ἑτοιμάσωμέν σοι φαγεῖν τὸ πάσχα; when
it is hereupon said of the disciples, that they made ready the
passover, ἡτοίμασαν τὸ πάσχα (Matt. v. 19 parall.), and of Jesus, that
when evening was come, he sat down with the twelve, ὀψίας γενομένης
ἀνέκειτο μετὰ τῶν δώδεκα (v. 20): the meal to which they here sat down
appears to be marked out even to the superfluity as the paschal, even
if Luke (xxii. 15) did not make Jesus open the repast with the words:
With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you, ἐπιθυμίᾳ
ἐπεθύμησα τοῦτο τὸ πάσχα φαγεῖν μεθ’ ὑμῶν.—When, on the other hand, the
fourth gospel commences its narrative of the last meal with the
statement of time: before the feast of the passover, πρὸ δὲ τῆς ἑορτῆς
τοῦ πάσχα, (xiii. 1); the supper, δεῖπνον, which is mentioned
immediately after (v. 2), appears also to happen before the passover;
especially as throughout John’s description of this evening, which,
especially in relation to the discourses accompanying the meal, is very
ample, there is not any notice or even allusion, to indicate that Jesus
was on this occasion celebrating the passover. Further, when Jesus
after the meal addresses the traitor with the summons, what thou doest,
do quickly, this is misunderstood by the rest of the disciples to mean,
Buy those things that we have need of against the feast, εἰς τὴν ἑορτήν
(v. 29). Now the requirements for the feast related chiefly to the
paschal meal, and consequently the meal just concluded cannot have been
the paschal. Again, it is said, xviii. 28, that on the following
morning, the Jews would not enter the Gentile prætorium, lest they
should be defiled; but that they might eat the passover, ἵνα μὴ
μιανθῶσιν, ἀλλ’ ἵνα, φάγωσι τὸ πάσχα: whence it would seem that the
paschal meal was yet in prospect. To this it may be added that this
same succeeding day, on which Jesus was crucified, is called the
preparation of the passover, παρασκευὴ τοῦ πάσχα, i.e. the day on the
evening of which the paschal lamb was to be eaten; moreover, when it is
said of the second day after the meal in question, being that which
Jesus passed in the grave: that sabbath day was an high day, ἦν γὰρ
μεγάλη ἡ ἡμέρα ἐκείνου τοῦ σαββάτου (xix. 31); this peculiar solemnity
appears to have proceeded from the circumstance, that on that sabbath
fell the first day of the passover, so that the paschal lamb was not
eaten on the evening on which Jesus was arrested, but on the evening of
his burial.

These divergencies are so important, that many expositors, in order to
prevent the Evangelists from falling into contradiction with each
other, have here also tried the old expedient of supposing that they do
not speak of the same thing—that John intends to describe an altogether
different repast from that of the synoptists. According to this view,
the δεῖπνον of John was an ordinary evening meal, doubtless in Bethany;
on this occasion Jesus washed the disciples’ feet, spoke of the
betrayer, and after Judas had left the company, added other discourses
of a consoling and admonitory tendency, until at length, on the morning
of the 14th of Nisan, he summoned the disciples to depart from Bethany
and proceed to Jerusalem, in the words: Arise, let us go hence (xiv.
31). Here the synoptical account may be interposed, since it represents
the two disciples as being sent forward to Jerusalem to prepare for the
paschal meal, and then records its celebration, concerning which John
is silent, and only takes up the thread of the narrative at the
discourses delivered after the paschal meal (xv. 1 ff.). [1762] But
this attempt to avoid contradiction by referring the respective
narratives to totally different events, is counteracted by the
undeniable identity of many features in the two meals. Independently of
isolated particulars which are found alike in both accounts, it is
plain that John, as well as the synoptists, intends to describe the
last meal of which Jesus partook with his disciples. This is implied in
the introduction to John’s narrative; for the proof which is there said
to be given of Jesus having loved his own unto the end, εἰς τέλος, may
be the most suitably referred to his last moments of companionship with
them. In like manner, the discourses after the meal point to the
prospect of immediate separation; and the meal and discourses are, in
John also, immediately followed by the departure to Gethsemane and the
arrest of Jesus. It is true that, according to the above opinion, these
last-named incidents are connected only with those discourses which
were delivered on the occasion of the later meal, omitted by John (xv.
17): but that between xiv. 31 and xv. 1 the author of the fourth gospel
intentionally omitted the whole incident of the paschal meal, is a
position which, although it might appear to explain with some
plausibility the singular ἐγείρεσθε, ἄγωμεν ἐντεῦθεν, Arise, let us go
hence, no one will now seriously maintain. But even admitting such an
ellipsis, there still remains the fact that Jesus (xiii. 38) foretells
to Peter his denial with this determination of time: οὐ μὴ ἀλέκτωρ
φωνήσῃ, the cock shall not crow, which he could only make use of at the
last meal, and not, as is here presupposed, at an earlier one. [1763]

Thus this expedient must be relinquished, and it must be admitted that
all the Evangelists intend to speak of the same meal, namely, the last
of which Jesus partook with his disciples. And in making this
admission, the fairness which we owe to every author, and which was
believed to be due in a peculiar degree to the authors of the Bible,
appeared to demand an enquiry whether, although they represent one and
the same event with great divergencies in several respects, yet
nevertheless both sides may not be correct. To obtain an affirmative
result of this inquiry it must be shown, as regards the time, either
that the three first Evangelists, as well as the fourth, do not intend
to describe a paschal meal, or that the latter, as well as the former,
does so intend.

In an ancient Fragment [1764] it is sought to solve the problem in the
first method, by denying that Matthew places the last meal of Jesus at
the proper time for the paschal meal, the evening of the 14th of Nisan,
and his passion on the first day of the feast of the passover, the 15th
of Nisan; but one does not see how the express indications respecting
the passover in the synoptists can be neutralized.

Hence it has been a far more general attempt in recent times, to draw
John to the side of the other Evangelists. [1765] His expression before
the feast of the passover, πρὸ τῆς ἑορτῆς τοῦ πάσχα (xiii. 1), was
thought to be divested of its difficulty by the observation that it is
not immediately connected with the supper δεῖπνον, but only with the
statement that Jesus knew that his hour was come, and that he loved his
own unto the end; it is only in the succeeding verse that there is any
mention of the meal, to which therefore that determination of time does
not refer. But to what then can it refer? to the knowledge that his
hour was come? this is only an incidental remark; or to the love which
endured to the end? but to this so special a determination of time can
only refer, if an external proof of love be intended, and such an one
is presented in his conduct at the meal, which consequently remains the
point to which that determination of the day must apply. It is
therefore conjectured further that the words πρὸ τῆς ἑορτῆς were used
out of accommodation to the Greeks for whom John wrote: since that
people did not, like the Jews, begin their day with the evening, the
meal taken at the beginning of the first day of the passover, would
appear to them to be taken on the evening before the passover. But what
judicious writer, if he supposes a misconstruction possible on the part
of the reader, chooses language which can only serve to encourage that
misconstruction? A still more formidable difficulty is presented by
xviii. 28, where the Jews, on the morning after the imprisonment of
Jesus, will not enter the judgment hall lest they should be defiled,
but that they may eat the passover, ἀλλ’ ἵνα φάγωσι τὸ πάσχα.
Nevertheless it was supposed that passages such as Deut. xvi. 1, 2,
where all the sacrifices to be killed during the time of the passover
are denoted by the expression ‏פֶּסַח‎, authorise the interpretation of τὸ
πάσχα in this place of the remaining sacrifices to be offered during
the paschal week, and especially of the Chagiga, which was to be
consumed towards the end of the first feast day. But as Mosheim has
correctly remarked, from the fact that the paschal lamb, together with
the rest of the sacrifices to be offered during the feast of the
passover was designated πάσχα, it by no means follows that these can be
so designated with the exclusion of the paschal lamb. [1766] On the
other hand, the friends of the above view have sought to show the
necessity of their mode of interpretation, by observing that for the
eating of the passover which was celebrated late in the evening,
consequently at the commencement of the succeeding day, the entering of
a Gentile house in the morning, being a defilement which lasted only
through the current day, would have been no disqualification; but that
it would have been such for the partaking of the Chagiga, which was
eaten in the afternoon, consequently on the same day on which the
defilement was contracted; so that only this, and not the passover, can
have been intended. But first, we do not know whether entrance into a
Gentile house was a defilement for the day merely; secondly, if such
were the case, the Jews, by a defilement contracted in the morning,
would still have disqualified themselves from participating in the
preparatory proceedings, which fell on the afternoon of the 14th of
Nisan; as, for example, the slaying of the lamb in the outer court of
the temple. Lastly, in order to interpret the passage xix. 14 in
consistency with their own view, the harmonists understand the
preparation of the passover, παρασκευὴ τοῦ πάσχα, to mean the day of
preparation for the sabbath in the Easter week; a violence of
interpretation which at least finds no countenance in xix. 31, where
the παρασκευὴ is said to be the preparation for the sabbath, since from
this passage it only appears, that the Evangelist conceived the first
day of the passover as occurring that year on the sabbath. [1767]

These difficulties, which resist the reference of the narrative in John
to a real paschal meal, appeared to be obviated by a presupposition
derived from Lev. xxiii. 5; Num. ix. 3; and a passage in Josephus;
[1768] namely, that the paschal lamb was eaten, not on the evening from
the 14th to the 15th, but on that from the 13th to the 14th of Nisan,
so that between the paschal meal and the first feast day, the 15th of
Nisan, there fell a working day, the 14th. On this supposition, it
would be correct that the day following the last paschal meal taken by
Jesus, should be called, as in John xix. 14, the preparation of the
passover, παρασκευὴ τοῦ πάσχα, because it was actually a day of
preparation for the feast day; it would also be correct that the
following sabbath should be called μεγάλη (xix. 31), since it would
coincide with the first day of the feast. [1769] But the greatest
difficulty, which lies in John xviii. 28, remains unsolved; for on this
plan the words, that they might eat the passover, ἵνα φαγωσι τὸ πάσχα,
must, since the paschal meal would be already past, be understood of
the unleavened bread, which was eaten also during the succeeding feast
days: an interpretation which is contrary to all the usages of
language. If to this it be added, that the supposition of a working day
falling between the passover and the first feast day, has no foundation
in the Pentateuch and Josephus, that it is decidedly opposed to later
custom, and is in itself extremely improbable; this expedient cannot
but be relinquished. [1770]

Perceiving the impossibility of effecting the reconciliation of the
synoptists with John by this simple method, other expositors have
resorted to a more artificial expedient. The appearance of the
Evangelists having placed the last meal of Jesus on different days, is
alleged to have its truth in the fact, that either the Jews or Jesus
celebrated the passover on another than the usual day. The Jews, say
some, in order to avoid the inconvenience arising from the
circumstance, that in that year the first day of the passover fell on a
Friday, so that two consecutive days must have been solemnized as a
sabbath, deferred the paschal meal until the Friday evening, whence on
the day of the crucifixion they had still to beware of defilement;
Jesus, however, adhering strictly to the law, celebrated it at the
prescribed time, on the Thursday evening: so that the synoptists are
right when they describe the last meal of Jesus as an actual
celebration of the passover; and John also is right when he represents
the Jews as, the day after, still looking forward to the eating of the
paschal lamb. [1771] In this case, Mark would be wrong in his
statement, that on the day when they killed the passover, ὅτε τὸ πάσχα
ἔθυον (v. 12), Jesus also caused it to be prepared; but the main point
is, that though in certain cases the passover was celebrated in a later
month, it was still on the 15th day; there is nowhere any trace of a
transference to a later day of the same month.—It has therefore been a
more favourite supposition that Jesus anticipated the usual time of
eating the passover. From purely personal motives, some have thought,
foreseeing that at the proper time of the paschal supper he should be
already lying in the grave, or at least not sure of life until that
period, he, like those Jews who were prevented from journeying to the
feast, and like all the Jews of the present day, without a sacrificed
lamb, and with mere substitutes for it, celebrated a commemorative
passover, πάσχα μνημονευτικὸν. [1772] But in the first place, Jesus
would not then, as Luke says, have kept the passover on the day on
which the passover must be killed, ἐν ᾗ εἴδει τύεσθαι τὸ πάσχα; and
secondly, in the merely commemorative celebration of the passover,
though the prescribed locality (Jerusalem) is dispensed with, the
regular time (the evening from the 14th to the 15th Nisan) is
inviolably observed: whereas in the case of Jesus the reverse would
hold, and he would have celebrated the passover at the usual place, but
at an unusual time, which is without example. To shield the alleged
transposition of the passover by Jesus from the charge of being
unprecedented and arbitrary, it has been maintained that an entire
party of his cotemporaries joined in celebrating the passover earlier
than the great body of the nation. It is known that the Jewish sect of
the Caraites or Scripturalists differed from the Rabbinites or
Traditionalists especially in the determination of the new moon,
maintaining that the practice of the latter in fixing the new moon
according to astronomical calculation was an innovation, whereas they,
true to the ancient, legal practice, determined it according to an
empirical observation of the phase of the new luminary. Now in the time
of Jesus, we are told, the Sadducees, from whom the Caraites are said
to have sprung, determined the time of the new moon, and with it that
of the festival of the passover, which was dependent upon it,
differently from the Pharisees; and Jesus, as the opponent of tradition
and the friend of scripture, favoured their practice in this matter.
[1773] But not to insist that the connexion of the Caraites with the
ancient Sadducees is a mere conjecture; it was a well-founded objection
put forth by the Caraites, that the determination of the new moon by
calculation did not arise until after the destruction of the temple by
the Romans; so that at the time of Jesus such a difference cannot have
existed; nor is there besides any indication to be discovered that at
that time the passover was celebrated on different days by different
parties. [1774] Supposing, however, that the above difference as to the
determining of the new moon already prevailed in the time of Jesus, the
settling of it according to the phase, which Jesus is supposed to have
followed, would rather have resulted in a later than an earlier
celebration of the passover; whence some have actually conjectured that
more probably Jesus followed the astronomical calculation. [1775]

Besides what may thus be separately urged against every attempt at an
amicable adjustment of the differences between the Evangelists, as to
the time of the last supper; there is one circumstance which is
decisive against all, and which only the most recent criticism has
adequately exposed. With respect, namely, to this contradiction, the
case is not so that among passages for the most part harmonious, there
appear only one or two statements of an apparently inconsistent sense,
of which it might be said that the author had here used an inaccurate
expression, to be explained from the remaining passages: but, that all
the chronological statements of the synoptists tend to show that Jesus
must have celebrated the passover, all those of John, on the contrary,
that he cannot have celebrated it. [1776] Thus there stand opposed to
each other two differing series of evangelical passages, which are
manifestly based on two different views of the fact on the part of the
narrators: hence, as Sieffert remarks, to persist in disputing the
existence of a divergency between the Evangelists, can no longer be
regarded as scientific exposition, but only as unscientific
arbitrariness and obstinacy.

Modern criticism is therefore constrained to admit, that on one side or
the other there is an error; and, setting aside the current prejudices
in favour of the fourth gospel, it was really an important reason which
appeared to necessitate the imputation of this error to the synoptists.
The ancient Fragment attributed to Apollinaris, mentioned above,
objects to the opinion that Jesus suffered on the great day of
unleavened bread, τῇ μεγάλῃ ἡμέρᾳ τῶν ἀζύμων ἔπαθεν, that this would
have been contrary to the law ἀσύμφωνος τῷ νόμῳ; and in recent times
also it has been observed, that the day following the last meal of
Jesus is treated on all sides so entirely as a working day, that it
cannot be supposed the first day of the passover, nor, consequently,
the meal of the previous evening, the paschal meal. Jesus does not
solemnize the day, for he goes out of the city, an act which was
forbidden on the night of the passover; nor do his friends, for they
begin the preparations for his burial, and only leave them unfinished
on account of the arrival of the next day, the sabbath; still less do
the members of the Sanhedrim keep it sacred, for they not only send
their servants out of the city to arrest Jesus, but also personally
undertake judicial proceedings, a trial, sentence, and accusation
before the Procurator; in general, there appears, throughout, only the
fear of desecrating the following day, which commenced on the evening
of the crucifixion, and nowhere any solicitude about the current one:
clear signs that the synoptical representation of the meal as a paschal
one, is a later error, since in the remaining narrative of the
synoptists themselves, there is evidence, not easy to be mistaken, of
the real fact, that Jesus was crucified before the passover. [1777]
These observations are certainly of weight. It is true that the first,
relative to the conduct of Jesus, might perhaps be invalidated by the
contradiction existing between the Jewish decisions as to the law
cited; [1778] while the last and strongest may be opposed by the fact,
that trying and giving sentence on the sabbaths and feast days was not
only permitted among the Jews, but there was even a larger place for
the administration of justice on such days, on account of the greater
concourse of people; so, also, according to the New Testament itself,
the Jews sent out officers to seize Jesus on the great day ἡμέρα μεγάλη
of the Feast of Tabernacles (John vii. 44 f.), and at the Feast of
Dedication they were about to stone him (John x. 31), while Herod
caused Peter to be imprisoned during the days of unleavened bread;
though indeed he intended to defer the public sentencing and execution
until after the passover (Acts xii. 2 f.). In proof that the
crucifixion of Jesus might take place on the feast of the passover, it
is urged that the execution was performed by Roman soldiers; and that
moreover, even according to Jewish custom, it was usual to reserve the
execution of important criminals for a feast time, in order to make an
impression on a greater multitude. [1779] But only thus much is to be
proved: that during the feast time, and thus during the passover, on
the five intermediate and less solemn days, criminals were tried and
executed,—not that this was admissible also on the first and last days
of the passover, which ranked as sabbaths; [1780] and thus we read in
the Talmud that Jesus was crucified on the ‏ערב פסה‎, i.e. the evening
before the passover. [1781] It would be another thing if, as Dr. Baur
strives to prove, the execution of criminals, as a sanguinary expiation
for the people, belonged to the essential significance of the passover,
as a feast of expiation, and hence the custom, noticed by the
Evangelists, of liberating a prisoner at the feast had been only the
reverse side to the execution of another, presenting the same relation
as that between the two goats and the two sparrows in the Jewish
offerings of atonement and purification. [1782]

It is certainly very possible that the primitive Christian tradition
might be led even unhistorically to associate the last supper of Jesus
with the paschal lamb, and the day of his death with the feast of the
passover. As the Christian supper represented in its form, the
passover, and in its import, the death of Jesus: it was natural enough
to unite these two points—to place the execution of Jesus on the first
day of the passover, and to regard his last meal, at which he was held
to have founded the Christian supper, as the paschal meal. It is true
that presupposing the author of the first gospel to have been an
apostle and a participator in the last meal of Jesus, it is difficult
to explain how he could fall into such a mistake. At least it is not
enough to say, with Theile, that the more the last meal partaken with
their master transcended all paschal meals in interest to the
disciples, the less would they concern themselves as to the time of it,
whether it occurred on the evening of the passover, or a day earlier.
[1783] For the first Evangelist does not leave this undetermined, but
speaks expressly of a paschal meal, and to this degree a real
participator, however long he might write after that evening, could not
possibly deceive himself. Thus on the above view, the supposition that
the first Evangelist was an eye-witness must be renounced, and he must
be held, in common with the two intermediate ones, to have drawn his
materials from tradition. [1784] The difficulty arising from the fact,
that all the synoptists, and consequently all those writers who have
preserved to us the common evangelical tradition, agree in such an
error, [1785] may perhaps be removed by the observation, that just as
generally as in the Judæo-Christian communities, in which the
evangelical tradition was originally formed, the Jewish passover was
still celebrated, so generally must the effort present itself to give
that feast a Christian import, by referring it to the death and the
last meal of Jesus.

But it is equally easy, presupposing the correctness of the synoptical
determination of time, to conceive how John might be led erroneously to
place the death of Jesus on the afternoon of the 14th of Nisan, and his
last meal on the previous evening. If, namely, this Evangelist found in
the circumstance that the legs of the crucified Christ were not broken,
a fulfilment of the words Not a bone of him shall be broken, ὀστοῦν οὐ
συντριβήσεται αὐτῷ (Exod. xii. 46): this supposed relation between the
death of Jesus and the paschal lamb might suggest to him the idea, that
at the same time in which the paschal lambs were killed, on the
afternoon of the 14th of Nisan, Jesus suffered on the cross and gave up
the ghost; [1786] in which case the meal taken the evening before was
not the paschal meal. [1787]

Thus we can conceive a possible cause of error on both sides, and since
the internal difficulty of the synoptical determination of time,
namely, the manifold violations of the first day of the passover, is in
some degree removed by the observations above cited, and is
counterpoised by the agreement of three Evangelists: our only course is
to acknowledge an irreconcilable contradiction between the respective
accounts, without venturing a decision as to which is the correct one.

§ 122.

DIVERGENCIES IN RELATION TO THE OCCURRENCES AT THE LAST MEAL OF JESUS.

Not only in relation to the time of the last meal of Jesus, but also in
relation to what passed on that occasion, there is a divergency between
the Evangelists. The chief difference lies between the synoptists and
the fourth gospel: but, on a stricter comparison, it is found that only
Matthew and Mark closely agree, and that Luke diverges from them
considerably, though on the whole he is more accordant with his
predecessors than with his successor.

Besides the meal itself, the following features are common to all the
accounts: that, during the meal, the coming betrayal by Judas is spoken
of; and that, during or after the meal, Jesus predicts to Peter his
denial. As minor differences we may notice, that in John, the mode of
indicating the traitor is another and more precise than that described
by the other Evangelists, and has a result of which the latter are
ignorant; and that, further, in the fourth gospel the meal is followed
by prolonged farewell discourses, which are not found in the
synoptists: but the principal difference is, that while according to
the synoptists Jesus instituted the Lord’s supper at this final meal,
in John he instead of this washes the disciples’ feet.

The three synoptists have in common the instituting of the Lord’s
supper, together with the announcement of the betrayal, and the denial;
but there exists a divergency between the two first and the third as to
the order of these occurrences, for in the former the announcement of
the betrayal stands first, in the latter, the instituting of the
Supper; while the announcement of Peter’s denial, in Luke, apparently
takes place in the room in which the repast had been held, in the two
other Evangelists, on the way to the Mount of Olives. Again, Luke
introduces some passages which the two first Evangelists either do not
give at all, or not in this connexion: the contention for pre-eminence
and the promise of the twelve thrones, have in their narratives a
totally different position; while what passes in Luke on the subject of
the swords is in them entirely wanting.

In his divergency from the two first Evangelists, Luke makes some
approximation to the fourth. As John, in the washing of the disciples’
feet, presents a symbolical act having reference to ambitious
contention for pre-eminence, accompanied by discourses on humility: so
Luke actually mentions a contention for pre-eminence, and appends to it
discourses not entirely without affinity with those in John; further,
it is in common with John that Luke makes the observations concerning
the betrayer occur at the opening of the repast, and after a symbolical
act; and lastly, that he represents the announcement of Peter’s denial
as having been delivered in the room where the repast had been held.

The greatest difficulty here naturally arises from the divergency, that
the institution of the Lord’s supper, unanimously recorded by the
synoptists, is wanting in John, who in its stead relates a totally
different act of Jesus, namely, the washing of the disciples’ feet.
Certainly, by those who, in similar cases, throughout the whole
previous course of the evangelical narrative, have found a sufficient
resource in the supposition, that it was the object of John to supply
the omissions of the earlier gospels, the present difficulty is
surmounted as well, or as ill, as any other. John, it is said, saw that
the institution of the Supper was already narrated in the three first
Evangelists in a way which fully agreed with his own recollection;
hence he held a repetition of it superfluous. [1788] But if, among the
histories already recorded in the three first gospels, the fourth
Evangelist really intended to reproduce only those in the
representation of which he found something to rectify or supply: why
does he give another edition of the history of the miraculous feeding,
in which he makes no emendation of any consequence, and at the same
time omit the institution of the Lord’s supper? For here the
divergencies between the synoptists in the arrangement of the scene,
and the turn given to the words of Jesus, and more especially the
circumstance that they, according to his representation, erroneously,
make that institution occur on the evening of the passover, must have
appeared to him a reason for furnishing an authentic account. In
consideration of this difficulty, the position that the author of the
fourth gospel was acquainted with the synoptical writings, and designed
to complete and rectify them, is now, indeed, abandoned; but it is
still maintained that he was acquainted with the common oral tradition,
and supposed it known to his readers also, and on this ground, it is
alleged he passed over the institution of the Supper as a history
generally known. [1789] But that it should be the object of an
evangelical writing to narrate only the less known, omitting the known,
is an idea which cannot be consistently entertained. Written records
imply a mistrust of oral tradition; they are intended not merely as a
supplement to this, but also as a means of fixing and preserving it,
and hence the capital facts, being the most spoken of, and therefore
the most exposed to misrepresentation, are precisely those which
written records can the least properly omit. Such a fact is the
founding of the Lord’s supper, and we find, from a comparison of the
different New Testament accounts, that the expressions with which Jesus
instituted it must have early received additions or mutilations;
consequently, it is the last particular which John should have omitted.
But, it is further said, the narrating of the institution of the Lord’s
supper was of no importance to the object of the fourth gospel. [1790]
How so? With regard to its general object, the convincing of its
readers that Jesus is the Christ the Son of God (xx. 31), was it of no
importance to communicate a scene in which he appears as the founder of
a new covenant, καινὴ διαθήκη? and in relation to the special object of
the passage in question, namely, the exhibiting of the love of Jesus as
a love which endured unto the end (xiii. 1), would it have contributed
nothing to mention how he offered his body and blood as meat and drink
to his followers, and thus realized his words in John vi.? But, it is
said, John here as elsewhere, only concerns himself with the more
profound discourses of Jesus, for which reason he passes over the
institution of the Supper, and begins his narrative with the discourse
connected with the washing of the disciples’ feet. [1791] Nothing,
however, but the most obdurate prejudice in favour of the fourth
gospel, can make this discourse on humility appear more profound than
what Jesus says of the partaking of his body and blood, when
instituting the Lord’s supper.

But the main point is that harmonists should show us in what part of
John’s narrative, if we are to believe that he presupposed Jesus to
have instituted the Supper at this last meal, he can have made the
alleged omission—that they should indicate the break at which that
incident may be suitably introduced. On looking into the different
commentaries, there appears to be more than one place excellently
adapted to such an insertion. According to Olshausen, the end of the
13th chapter, after the announcement of Peter’s denial, presents the
interval in which the institution of the Supper must be supposed to
occur; herewith the repast closed, and the succeeding discourses from
xiv. 1 were uttered by Jesus after the general rising from table, and
while standing in the chamber. [1792] But, here, it appears as if
Olshausen, for the sake of obtaining a resting place between xiii. 38
and xiv. 1, had resigned himself to the delusion of supposing that the
words Arise, let us go hence, at which he makes Jesus rise from table
and deliver the rest of his discourse standing, are found at the end of
the 13th chapter, whereas they do not occur until the end of the 14th.
Jesus had been speaking of going whither his disciples could not follow
him, and had just rebuked the rashness of Peter, in volunteering to lay
down life for his sake, by the prediction of his denial: here, at xiv.
1 ff., he calms the minds of the disciples, whom this prediction had
disturbed, exhorting them to faith, and directing their attention to
the blessed effects of his departure.—Repelled by the firm coherence of
this part of the discourse, other commentators, e.g. Paulus, retreat to
xiii. 30, and are of opinion that the institution of the Supper may be
the most fitly introduced after the withdrawal of Judas, for the
purpose of putting his treachery into execution, since this
circumstance might naturally excite in Jesus those thoughts concerning
his death which lie at the basis of the institution. [1793] But even
rejecting the opinion of Lücke and others, that ὅτε ἐξῆλθε, when he
went out, should be united to λέγει ὁ Ἰησοῦς, Jesus said, it is
unquestionable that the words of Jesus v. 31, Now is the Son of man
glorified, etc., and what he says farther on (v. 33) of his speedy
departure, have an immediate reference to the retiring of Judas. For
the verb δοξάζειν in the fourth gospel always signifies the
glorification of Jesus, to which he is to be led by suffering; and with
the departure of the apostate disciple to those who brought suffering
and death on Jesus, his glorification and his speedy death were
decided.—The verses 31–33 being thus inseparably connected with v. 30;
the next step is to carry the institution of the Supper somewhat lower,
and place it where this connexion may appear to cease: accordingly,
Lücke makes it fall between v. 33 and 34, supposing that after Jesus
(v. 31–33) had composed the minds of the disciples, disturbed and
shocked by the departure of the traitor, and had prepared them for the
sacred meal, he, at v. 34 f., annexes to the distribution of the bread
and wine the new commandment of love. But, as it has been elsewhere
remarked, [1794] since at v. 36 Peter asks Jesus, in allusion to v. 33,
whither he will go, it is impossible that the Supper can have been
instituted after the declaration of Jesus v. 33; for otherwise Peter
would have interpreted the expression I go, ὑπάγω, by the body given
σῶμα διδόμενον and the blood shed αἷμα ἐκ χυνόμενον, or in any case
would rather have felt prompted to ask the meaning of these latter
expressions.—Acknowledging this, Neander retreats a verse, and inserts
the Supper between v. 32 and 33; [1795] but he thus violently severs
the obvious connexion between the words εὐθὺς δοξάσει αὐτὸν shall
straightway glorify him in the former verse, and the words ἔτι μικρὸν
μεθ’ ὑμῶν εἰμι yet a little while I am with you in the latter.—It is,
therefore, necessary to retreat still farther than Neander, or even
Paulus: but as from v. 30 up to v. 18, the discourse turns
uninterruptedly on the traitor, and this discourse again is inseparably
linked to the washing of the disciples’ feet and the explanation of
that act, there is no place at which the institution of the Supper can
be inserted until the beginning of the chapter. Here, however,
according to one of the most recent critics, it may be inserted in a
way which perfectly exonerates the author of the gospel from the
reproach of misleading his reader by an account which is apparently
continuous, while it nevertheless passes over the Supper. For, says
this critic, from the very commencement John does not profess to
narrate anything of the meal itself, or what was concomitant with it,
but only what occurred after the meal; inasmuch as the most natural
interpretation of δείπνου γενομένου is: after the meal was ended, while
the words ἐγείρεται ἐκ τοῦ δείπνου, he riseth from supper, plainly show
that the washing of the disciples’ feet was not commenced until after
the meal. [1796] But after the washing of the feet is concluded, it is
said of Jesus, that he sat down again (ἀναπεσὼν πάλιν v. 12),
consequently the meal was not yet ended when he commenced that act, and
by the words he riseth from supper, it is meant that he rose to wash
the disciples’ feet from the yet unfinished meal, or at least after the
places had been taken preparatory to the meal. Again, δείπνου γενομένου
does not mean: after a meal was ended, any more than the words τοῦ Ἰ.
γενομένου ἐν Βηθανίᾳ (Matt. xxvi. 6) mean: after Jesus had been in
Bethany: as the latter expression is intended by Matthew to denote the
time during the residence of Jesus in Bethany, so the former is
intended by John to denote the course of the meal itself. [1797] Hence
he thereby professes to inform us of every remarkable occurrence
connected with that meal, and in omitting to mention the institution of
the Lord’s supper, which was one of its features, he incurs the
reproach of having given a deficient narrative, nay of having left out
precisely what is most important.—Instead of this highest extremity of
John’s account, Kern has recently taken the lowest, and has placed the
institution of the Supper after the words, Arise, let us go hence, xiv.
31; [1798] whereby he assigns to it the improbable and indeed unworthy
position, of an act only occurring to Jesus when he is preparing to
depart.

Thus, viewing the subject generally, there is no conceivable motive why
John, if he spoke of this last evening at all, should have omitted the
institution of the Lord’s supper; while, on descending to a particular
consideration, there is in the course of his narrative no point where
it could be inserted: hence nothing remains but to conclude that he
does not mention it because it was unknown to him. But as a means of
resisting this conclusion, theologians, even such as acknowledge
themselves unable to explain the omission of the institution, rely on
the observation, that a rite so universally prevalent in the primitive
church as was the Lord’s supper, cannot possibly have been unknown to
the fourth Evangelist, whoever he may have been. [1799] Certainly, he
knew of the Lord’s supper as a Christian rite, for this may be inferred
from his 6th chapter, and unavoidably he must have known of it; it may,
however, have been unknown to him under what circumstances Jesus
formally instituted this observance. The referring of so revered an
usage to the authority of Jesus himself was an object of interest to
this Evangelist; but from unacquaintance with the synoptical scene, and
also from a partiality for the mysterious, which led him to put into
the mouth of Jesus expressions unintelligible at the moment, and only
to be explained by the issue, he effected this purpose, not by making
Jesus actually institute the rite, but by attributing to him obscure
expressions about the necessity of eating his flesh and drinking his
blood, which, being rendered intelligible only by the rite of the
Lord’s supper introduced into the church after his death, might be
regarded as an indirect institution of that rite.

As John omits the institution of the Lord’s supper, so the synoptists
omit the washing of the disciples’ feet: but it cannot be maintained
with equal decision that they were therefore ignorant of this incident;
partly on account of its inferior importance and the more fragmentary
character of this part of the synoptical narrative; and partly because,
as has been above remarked, the contention for pre-eminence in Luke v.
24 ff. has appeared to many expositors to be connected with the washing
of the disciples’ feet, as the inducement to that action on the part of
Jesus. [1800] But as regards this contention for pre-eminence, we have
shown above, that being unsuited to the tenor of the scene before us,
it may owe its position only to a fortuitous association of ideas in
the narrator: [1801] while the washing of the disciples’ feet, in John,
might appear to be a legendary development of a synoptical discourse on
humility. In Matthew (xx. 26 ff.) Jesus admonishes his disciples that
he among them who would be great must be the minister διάκονος of the
others, just as he himself came not to be ministered unto but to
minister διακονηθῆναι, ἀλλὰ διακονησαι; and in Luke (xxii. 27) he
expresses the same thought in the question: Whether is greater, he that
sitteth at meat or he that that serveth? τίς γὰρ μείζων; ὁ ἀνακείμενος,
ἢ ὁ διακονῶν; and adds, but I am among you as he that serveth, ἐγὼ δέ
εἰμι ἐν μέσῳ ὑμῶν ὡς ὁ διακονῶν. Now it is certainly probable that
Jesus might see fit to impress this lesson on the disciples through the
medium of their senses, by an actual serving διακονεῖν among them,
while they played the part of those sitting at meat (ἀνακείμενοι); but
it is equally probable, since the synoptists are silent respecting such
a measure, that either the legend, before it reached the fourth
Evangelist, or this writer himself, spun the fact out of the dictum.
[1802] Nor is it necessary to suppose that the above declaration came
to him as having been uttered at the last meal of Jesus, in accordance
with the representation of Luke; for it naturally resulted from the
expressions ἀνακεῖσθαι (to recline at meat), and διακονεῖν (to serve),
that this symbolizing of the relation which they denote should be
attached to a meal, and this meal might on easily conceivable grounds
appear to be the most appropriately represented as the last.

According to Luke’s representation, Jesus on this occasion addresses
the disciples as those who had continued with him in his temptations,
and as a reward for this fidelity promises them that they shall sit
with him at table in his kingdom, and seated on thrones, judge the
twelve tribes of Israel (v. 28–30). This appears incongruous with a
scene in which he had immediately before announced his betrayal by one
of the twelve, and in which he immediately after predicted his denial
by another; at a time, moreover, in which the temptations πειρασμοὶ
properly so called, were yet future. After what we have already
observed in relation to the entire character of the scene in Luke, we
can hardly seek the reason for the insertion of this fragment of a
discourse, in anything else than a fortuitous association of ideas, in
which the contention about rank among the disciples might suggest the
rank promised to them by Jesus, and the discourse on sitting at table
and serving, the promise that the disciples should sit at table with
Jesus in his messianic kingdom. [1803]

In the succeeding conversation Jesus says to his disciples
figuratively, that now it will be necessary to buy themselves swords,
so hostilely will they be met on all sides, but is understood by them
literally, and is shown two swords already in the possession of the
society. Concerning this passage I am inclined to agree with
Schleiermacher, who is of opinion that Luke introduced it here as a
prelude to Peter’s use of the sword in the ensuing narrative. [1804]

The other divergencies in relation to the last meal will come under
review in the course of the following investigations.

§ 123.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE BETRAYAL AND THE DENIAL.

In the statement that Jesus from the beginning knew who would be his
betrayer, the fourth gospel stands alone; but all four of the
Evangelists concur in testifying that at his last meal he predicted his
betrayal by one of his disciples.

But in the first place there is this difference: while according to
Matthew and Mark the discourse respecting the betrayer opens the scene,
and in particular precedes the institution of the Lord’s supper (Matt.
xxvi. 21 ff.; Mark xiv. 18 ff.); Luke represents Jesus as not speaking
of the betrayer until after the commencement of the meal, and the
institution of the commemorative rite (xxii. 21 ff.); and in John what
relates to the betrayer goes forward during and after the washing of
the disciples’ feet (xiii. 10–30). The intrinsically trivial question,
which Evangelist is here right, is extremely important to theologians,
because its decision involves the answer to another question, namely,
whether the betrayer also partook of the ritual Supper. It neither
appeared consistent with the idea of that supper as a feast of the most
intimate love and union, that a virtual alien like Judas should
participate in it, nor did it seem to accord with the love and
compassion of the Lord, that he should have permitted an unworthy
disciple by this participation to aggravate his guilt. [1805] So
undesirable a view of the facts was believed to be avoided by following
the arrangement of Matthew and Mark, and making the designation of the
betrayer precede the institution of the Supper: for as it was known
from John, that as soon as Judas saw himself detected and exposed, he
withdrew from the company, it would thence appear that Jesus did not
institute the Supper until after the retirement of the traitor. [1806]
But this expedient is founded on nothing but an inadmissible
incorporation of the narrative of John with that of the synoptists. For
the withdrawal of Judas is mentioned only by the fourth Evangelist; and
he alone needs the supposition of such a circumstance, because,
according to him, Judas now first entered into his transactions with
the enemies of Jesus, and thus, in order to come to terms with them,
and obtain the requisite force, needed a somewhat longer time. In the
synoptists there is no trace of the betrayer having left the company;
on the contrary, everything in their narrative appears to imply that
Judas, first on the general departure from the room in which the repast
had been taken, instead of going directly to the garden, went to the
chief priests, of whom he at once, the agreement having been made
beforehand, received the necessary force for the arrest of Jesus. Thus
whether Luke or Matthew be right in the arrangement of the scene, all
the synoptists intimate that Judas did not leave the company before the
general departure, and consequently that he partook of the ritual
Supper.

But also as to the manner in which Jesus pointed out his betrayer,
there exists no slight divergency between the Evangelists. In Luke
Jesus only makes the brief remark that the hand of his betrayer is with
him on the table, whereupon the disciples ask among themselves, who it
can be that is capable of such a deed? In Matthew and Mark he says,
first, that one of those, who are present will betray him; and when the
disciples individually ask him, Lord, is it I? he replies: he that
dippeth his hand with me in the dish; until at last, after a woe has
been denounced on the traitor, according to Matthew, Judas also puts
that question, and receives an affirmative answer. In John, Jesus
alludes to the betrayer during and after the washing of the disciples’
feet, in the observations, that not all the disciples present are
clean, and that on the contrary the scripture must be fulfilled: he
that eateth bread with me, hath lifted up his heel against me. Then he
says plainly, that one of them will betray him; the disciples look
inquiringly at each other, wondering of whom he speaks, when Peter
prompts John, who is lying next to Jesus, to ask who is the traitor?
Jesus replies, he to whom he shall give a sop, which he immediately
does to Judas, with an admonition to hasten the execution of his
project; whereupon Judas leaves the company.

Here again the harmonists are at once ready to incorporate the
different scenes with each other, and render them mutually consistent.
According to them, Jesus, on the question of each disciple whether he
were the traitor, first declared aloud that one of his companions at
table would betray him (Matthew); hereupon John asked in a whisper
which of them he meant, and Jesus also in a whisper made the answer, he
to whom he should give the sop (John); then Judas, likewise in a
whisper, asked whether it were he, and Jesus in the same manner replied
in the affirmative (Matthew); lastly, after an admonition from Jesus to
be speedy, the betrayer left the company (John). [1807] But that the
question and answer interchanged between Jesus and Judas were spoken in
a whisper, Matthew, who alone communicates them, gives no intimation,
nor is this easily conceivable without presupposing the improbable
circumstance, that Judas reclined on the one side of Jesus, as John did
on the other: if, however, the colloquy were uttered aloud, the
disciples could not, as John narrates, have so strangely misunderstood
the words, what thou doest, do quickly,—and the supposition of a
stammering question on the side of Judas, and a low-toned answer from
Jesus, cannot be seriously held a satisfactory explanation. [1808] Nor
is it probable that Jesus, after having already made the declaration:
he who dippeth with me in the dish will betray me, would for the more
precise indication of the traitor have also given him a sop; it is
rather to be supposed that these are but two different modes of
reporting the same particular. But when once this is admitted, as it is
by Paulus and Olshausen, so much is already renounced either in
relation to the one narrative or the other, that it is inconsistent to
resort to forced suppositions, in order to overcome the difficulty
involved in the explicit answer which Matthew makes Jesus give to the
traitor; and it should rather be allowed that we have before us two
divergent accounts, of which the one was not so framed that its
deficiencies might be supplied by the other.

Having, with Sieffert and Fritzsche, attained this degree of insight,
the only remaining question is: to which of the two narratives must we
give the preference as the original? Sieffert has answered this
question very decidedly in favour of John; not merely, as he maintains,
because he shares in the prejudice which attributes to that Evangelist
the character of an eye-witness; but also because his narrative is in
this part, by its intrinsic evidence of truthfulness, and the vividness
of its scenes, advantageously distinguished from that of Matthew, which
presents no indications of an autoptical origin. For example, while
John is able to describe with the utmost minuteness the manner in which
Jesus indicated his betrayer: the narrative of the first gospel is such
as to induce the conjecture that its author had only received the
general information, that Jesus had personally indicated his betrayer.
[1809] It certainly cannot be denied, that the direct answer which
Jesus gives to Judas in Matthew (v. 25) has entirely the appearance of
having been framed, without much fertility of imagination, to accord
with the above general information; and in so far it must be regarded
as inferior to the more indirect, and therefore more probable mode of
indicating the traitor, in John. But in relation to another feature,
the result of the comparison is different. In the two first Evangelists
Jesus says: he who has dipped or who dippeth with me, ὁ ἐμβάψας or
ἐμβαπτόμενος μετ’ ἐμοῦ: in John, he to whom I shall give a sop when I
have dipped it, ᾧ ἐγὼ βάψας τὸ ψωμίον ἐπιδώσω; a difference in which
the greater preciseness of the indication, and consequently the
inferior probability, is on the side of the fourth gospel. In Luke,
Jesus designates the traitor merely as one of those who are sitting at
meat with him; and as regards the expression ὁ ἐμβάψας κ.τ.λ. in
Matthew and Mark, the interpretation given of it by Kuinöl and
Henneberg, [1810] who suppose it to mean one of the party at table,
leaving it uncertain which, is not so mistaken as Olshausen represents
it to be. For, first, to the question of the several disciples, is it
I? Jesus might see fit to return an evasive answer; and secondly, the
above answer, as Kuinöl has correctly remarked, stands in the relation
of an appropriate climax to the previous declaration: one of you shall
betray me (v. 21), since it presents that aggravating circumstance of
the betrayal, fellowship at table. Even if the authors of the two first
gospels understood the expression in question to imply, that Judas in
particular dipped his hand in the dish with Jesus, and hence supposed
this second declaration to have indicated him personally: still the
parallel passage in Luke, and the words εἶς ἐκ τῶν δώδεκα, one of the
twelve, which in Mark precede ὁ ἐμβαπτόμενος, show that originally the
second expression was merely an amplification of the former, though
from the wish to have a thoroughly unequivocal designation of the
betrayer on the part of Jesus, it was early interpreted in the other
more special sense. When, however, a legendary exaggeration of the
preciseness of the indication is once admitted, the manner in which the
fourth gospel describes that indication must be included in the series
of progressive representations, and according to Sieffert, it must have
been the original from which all the rest proceeded. But if we
beforehand renounce the affirmative reply to Judas, σὺ εἶπας, thou hast
said, in Matthew, the mode of designation in John is the most definite
of all; for the intimation: one of my companions at table, is
comparatively indefinite, and even the expression: he who dippeth with
me in the dish, is a less direct sign of the traitor, than if Jesus had
himself dipped the morsel and presented it to him. Now is it in the
spirit of the ancient legend, if Jesus really gave the more precise
designation, to lose its hold of this, and substitute one less precise,
so as to diminish the miracle of the foreknowledge exhibited by Jesus?
Assuredly not; but rather the very reverse holds true. Hence we
conclude that Matthew, together with the unhistorically precise, has
yet at the same time preserved the historically less precise; whereas
John has entirely lost the latter and has retained only the former.

Alter thus renouncing what is narrated of a personal designation of the
traitor by Jesus, as composed post eventum, there yet remains to us the
general precognition and prediction on the part of Jesus, that one of
his disciples and companions at table would betray him. But even this
is attended with difficulties. That Jesus received any external
notification of treason brooding against him in the circle of his
confidential friends, there is no indication in the gospels: he appears
to have gathered this feature of his destiny also out of the scriptures
alone. He repeatedly declares that by his approaching betrayal the
scripture will be fulfilled (John xiii. 18, xvii. 12; comp. Matt. xxvi.
24 parall.), and in the fourth gospel (xiii. 18), he cites as this
scripture, γραφὴ, the words: He that eateth bread with me, hath lifted
up his heel against me, ὁ τρώγων μετ’ ἐμοῦ τὸν ἄρτον ἐπῆρεν ἐπ ἐμὲ τὴν
πτέρναν αὑτοῦ, from Ps. xli. 10. This passage in the Psalms refers
either to the well-known perfidious friends of David, Ahithophel and
Mephibosheth, or, if the Psalm be not the composition of David, to some
unknown individuals who stood in a similar relation to the poet. [1811]
There is so little trace of a messianic significance, that even Tholuck
and Olshausen acknowledge the above to be the original sense. But
according to the latter, in the fate of David was imaged that of the
Messiah; according to the former, David himself, under a divine impulse
often used expressions concerning himself, which contained special
allusions to the fate of Jesus. When, however, Tholuck adds: David
himself, under the influence of inspiration, did not always comprehend
this more profound sense of his expressions; what is this but a
confession that by the interpretation of such passages as relating to
Christ there is given to them another sense than that in which their
author originally intended them? Now that Jesus deduced from this
passage of the 41st Psalm, that it would be his lot to be betrayed by a
friend, in the way of natural reflection, is the more inconceivable,
because there is no indication to be discovered that this Psalm was
interpreted messianically among the Jews: while that such an
interpretation was a result of the divine knowledge in Jesus is
impossible, because it is a false interpretation. It is rather to be
supposed, that the passage in question was applied to the treachery of
Judas only after the issue. It is necessary to figure to ourselves the
consternation which the death of the Messiah must have produced in the
minds of his first adherents, and the solicitous industry with which
they endeavoured to comprehend this catastrophe; and to remember that
to a mind of Jewish culture, to comprehend a fact or doctrine was not
to reconcile it with consciousness and reason, but to bring it into
harmony with scripture. In seeking such a result, the primitive
Christians found predicted in the oracles of the Old Testament, not
only the death of the Messiah, but also his falling by means of the
perfidy of one of his friends, and even the subsequent fate and end of
this traitor (Matt. xxvii. 9 f.; Acts i. 20); and as the most striking
Old Testament authority for the betrayal, there presented itself the
above passage from Ps. xli., where the author complains of maltreatment
from one of his most intimate friends. These vouchers from the Old
Testament might be introduced by the writers of the evangelical history
either as reflections from themselves or others by way of appendix to
their narrative of the result, as is done by the authors of the first
gospel and the Acts, where they relate the end of Judas: or, what would
be more impressive, they might put them into the mouth of Jesus himself
before the issue, as is done by the author of the fourth gospel in the
present instance. The Psalmist had meant by ‏אֹכֵל לַחְמִי‎ one who
generally was accustomed to eat bread with him: but this expression
might easily come to be regarded as the designation of one in the act
of eating bread with the subject of the prophecy: and hence it seemed
appropriate to choose as the scene for the delivery of the prediction,
a meal of Jesus with his disciples, and for the sake of proximity to
the end of Jesus to make this meal the last. For the rest, the precise
words of the psalm were not adhered to, for instead of ὁ τρώγων μετ’
ἐμοῦ τὸν ἄρτον, he who eateth bread with me, was substituted either the
synonymous phrase μετ’ ἐμοῦ ἐπὶ τῆς τραπέζῃς, with me on the table, as
in Luke; or, in accordance with the representation of the synoptists
that this last was a paschal meal, an allusion to the particular sauce
used on that occasion: ὁ ἐμβαπτόμενος μετ ἐμοῦ εἰς τὸ τρυβλίον, he who
dippeth with me in the dish, as in Mark and Matthew. This, at first
entirely synonymous with the expression ὁ τρώγων κ.τ.λ., as a
designation of some one of his companions at table, was soon, from the
desire for a personal designation, misconstrued to mean that Judas
accidentally dipped his hand into the dish at the same moment with
Jesus, and at length the morsel dipped into the dish by Judas at the
same time with Jesus, was by the fourth Evangelist converted into the
sop presented by Jesus to his betrayer.

There are other parts also of this scene in John, which, instead of
having a natural character, as Sieffert maintains, must rather be
pronounced artificial. The manner in which Peter has to use the
intervention of the disciple leaning on Jesus’ bosom, in order to
obtain from the latter a more definite intimation concerning the
betrayer, besides being foreign to the synoptists, belongs to that
unhistorical colouring which, as we have above shown, the fourth gospel
gives to the relation of the two apostles. Moreover, to disguise an
indication of Judas in the evil character of the traitor, beneath an
action of friendliness, as that of giving him the sop, must retain
something untruthful and revolting, whatever may be imagined of objects
which Jesus might have in view, such as the touching of the traitor
with compunction even at that hour. Lastly, the address, What thou
doest, do quickly, after all that can be done to soften it, [1812] is
still harsh,—a kind of braving of the impending catastrophe; and rather
than resort to any refinements in order to justify these words as
spoken by Jesus, I prefer agreeing with the author of the Probabilia,
who sees in them the effort of the fourth Evangelist to improve on the
ordinary representation, according to which Jesus foreknew the betrayal
and refrained from preventing it, by making him even challenge the
traitor to expedite his undertaking. [1813]

Besides the betrayal, Jesus is said to have predicted the denial by
Peter, and to have fixed the precise time of its occurrence, declaring
that before the cock should crow (Mark says twice) on the following
morning, Peter would deny him thrice (Matt. xxvi. 33 ff. parall.):
which prediction, according to the gospels, was exactly accomplished.
It is here observed on the side of Rationalism, that the extension of
the prophetic gift to the cognizance of such merely accessory
circumstances as the crowing of cocks, must excite astonishment; as
also that Jesus, instead of warning, predicts the result as inevitable:
[1814] a feature which calls to mind the Fate of the Greek tragedy, in
which a man, in spite of his endeavour to avoid what the oracle has
predicted of him, nevertheless fulfils its inexorable decree. Paulus
will not admit either οὐ φωνήσει σήμερον ἀλέκτωρ, or ἀπαρνεῖσθαι, or
τρὶς, to have been spoken in their strict verbal signification, but
gives to the entire speech of Jesus only this indecisive and
problematical sense: so easily to be shaken is the imagined firmness of
this disciple, that between the present moment and the early morning,
events may arise which would cause him more than once to stumble and be
unfaithful to his master. But this is not the right mode of removing
the difficulty of the evangelical narrative. The words attributed to
Jesus so closely agree with the subsequent event, that the idea of a
merely fortuitous coincidence is not to be here entertained. Occurring
as they do in a tissue of prophecies post eventum, we must rather
suppose that after Peter had really denied Jesus more than once during
that night, the announcement of such a result was put into the mouth of
Jesus, with the common marking of time by the crowing of the cock,
[1815] and the reduction of the instances of denial to three. That this
determination of time and number was permanent in the evangelical
tradition (except that Mark, doubtless arbitrarily, for the sake of
balancing the thrice denying by another number, speaks of the twice
crowing of the cock), appears to be explained without any great
difficulty by the familiarity of the expressions early chosen, and the
ease with which they could be retained in the memory.

Just as little claim to be regarded as a real prophecy has the
announcement of Jesus to the rest of his disciples that they will all
of them be offended because of him in the coming night, that they will
forsake him and disperse (Matt. xxvi. 31 parall., comp. John xvi. 32);
especially as the Evangelists themselves, in the words: For it is
written, I will smite the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be
scattered abroad, point out to us the Old Testament passage (Zech.
xiii. 7), which, first sought out by the adherents of Jesus for the
satisfaction of their own difficulties as to the death of their master,
and the melancholy consequences which immediately ensued, was soon put
into the mouth of Jesus as a prophecy of these consequences.

§ 124.

THE INSTITUTION OF THE LORD’S SUPPER.

It was at the last meal, according to the synoptists, with whom the
Apostle Paul also agrees (1 Cor. xi. 23 ff.), that Jesus gave to the
unleavened bread and the wine which, agreeably to the custom of the
paschal feast, [1816] he, as head of the family, had to distribute
among his disciples, a relation to his speedily approaching death.
During the repast, we are told, he took bread, and after giving thanks,
broke it and gave it to his disciples with the declaration: This is my
body, τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ σῶμά μου, to which Paul and Luke add: which is
given or broken for you, τὸ ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν διδόμενον or κλώμενον; in like
manner, according to Paul and Luke after supper, he presented to them a
cup of wine with the words: This is my blood of the new testament,
τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ αἷμά μου, τὸ τῆς καινῆς διαθήκης, or, according to Paul
and Luke: the new testament in my blood, which is shed for many, or for
you, καινὴ διαθήκη ἐν τῷ αἵματί μου, τὸ περὶ πολλῶν or ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν,
ἐκχυνόμενον, to which Matthew adds: for the remission of sins, εἰς
ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν, and Paul, what he and Luke previously give in
reference to the bread: Do this, τοῦτο ποιεῖτε (Paul, with the wine, as
oft as ye drink it, ὁσάκις ἂν πίνητε), in remembrance of me, εἰς τὴν
ἐμὴν ἀνάμνησιν.

The controversy between the different confessions as to the meaning of
these words,—whether they signify a transmutation of bread and wine
into the body and blood of Christ, or a presence of the body and blood
of Christ with and beneath those elements, or lastly, the symbolizing
of the body and blood of Christ by bread and wine,—may be pronounced
obsolete, and ought not to be any longer pursued, at least
exegetically, because it is founded on a misplaced distinction. It is
only when transmitted to a modern age, and to the occidental mind, in
which the forms of thought are more abstract, that what the ancient
oriental understood by the words, τοῦτό ἐστι, divides itself into the
above variety of possible significations; and if we would obtain a
correct conception of the idea which originally suggested the
expression, we must cease to discriminate thus. To explain the words in
question as implying a transmutation of the substance, is to go too
far, and to be too definite; to understand them of an existence cum et
sub specie, etc., is too much of a refinement; while to translate them:
this signifies, is too limited and meagre an interpretation. To the
writers of our gospels, the bread in the commemorative supper was the
body of Christ: but had they been asked, whether the bread were
transmuted, they would have denied it; had they been spoken to of a
partaking of the body with and under the form of bread, they would not
have understood it; had it been inferred that consequently the bread
merely signified the body, they would not have been satisfied.

Thus to dispute farther on this point is a fruitless labour: it is a
more interesting question, whether Jesus merely intended this
peculiarly significant distribution of bread and wine as a parting
demonstration of attachment to his disciples, or whether he designed
that it should be celebrated by his disciples in memory of him after
his departure. If we had only the account of the two first
Evangelists,—this is admitted even by orthodox theologians,
[1817]—there would be no solid ground for the latter supposition; but
the words, Do this in remembrance of me, which are added by Paul and
Luke, appear decisive of the fact that Jesus purposed the founding of a
commemorative meal, which, according to Paul, the Christians were to
celebrate, until he should come, ἄχρις οὖ ἂν ἔλθῃ. Concerning this very
addition, however, it has been of late conjectured that it may not have
been originally uttered by Jesus, but that in the celebration of the
Lord’s supper in the primitive church, the presiding member of the
community, in distributing the elements, may have exhorted the rest to
continue the repetition of this meal in remembrance of Christ, and that
from this primitive Christian ritual the above words were added to the
address of Jesus. [1818] This conjecture should not be opposed by an
exaggerated estimate of the authority of the Apostle Paul, such as that
of Olshausen, who infers from the words, I have received of the Lord,
παρέλαβον ἀπὸ τοῦ Κυρίου, that he here delivers an immediate revelation
from Christ, nay, that Christ himself speaks through him: since, as
even Süskind has admitted, and as Schulz has recently shown in the most
convincing manner, [1819] the phrase παραλαμβάνειν ἀπό τινος cannot
signify an immediate reception, but only a mediate transmission from
the individual specified. If, however, Paul had not that addition from
Jesus himself, still Süskind thinks himself able to prove that it must
have been communicated, or at least confirmed, by an apostle, and is of
opinion, in the manner of his school, that by a series of abstract
distinctions, he can define certain boundary lines which must in this
case prevent the intrusion of an unhistorical tradition. But the severe
attention to evidence which characterizes our own day, ought not to be
expected from an infant religious society, between the distant portions
of which there was not yet any organized connexion, or for the most
part any other than oral communication. On the other hand, however, we
must not be induced to regard the words τοῦτο ποιεῖτε κ.τ.λ. as a later
addition to the address of Jesus, on false grounds, such as, that it
would have been repugnant to the humility of Jesus to found a rite in
remembrance of himself; [1820] nor must we rate too highly the silence
of the two first Evangelists, in opposition to the testimony of Paul.

Perhaps this point may be decided by means of another more general
question, namely, what led Jesus to make this peculiarly significant
distribution of bread and wine among his disciples? Orthodox
theologians seek to remove as far as possible from the person of Jesus,
as divine, all progress, and especially a gradual or sudden origination
of plans and resolutions not previously present in his mind: hence,
according to them, there lay in Jesus from the beginning, together with
the foreknowledge of his destiny, and his entire plan, the design to
institute this supper, as a commemorative rite to be observed by his
church; and this opinion may at least appeal for support, to the
allusions implying that he already contemplated the institution a year
beforehand, attributed to Jesus in the sixth chapter of the fourth
gospel.

This is certainly an insecure support, for, as a previous enquiry has
shown, those allusions, totally unintelligible before the institution
of the Supper, cannot have proceeded from Jesus, but only from the
Evangelist. [1821] Further, as, viewing the subject generally, it
appeared to annul the reality of the human nature in Jesus, to suppose
that all lay foreseen and prepared in him from the first, or at least
from the commencement of his mature age; Rationalism has maintained, on
the contrary, that the idea of the symbolical act and words in question
did not arise in Jesus until the last evening. According to this view,
at the sight of the broken bread and the outpoured wine, Jesus had a
foreboding of his near and violent death; he saw in the former an image
of his body which was to be put to death, and in the latter of his
blood which was to be shed; and this momentary impression was
communicated by him to his disciples. [1822] But such a tragical
impression could only be felt by Jesus if he contemplated his death as
a near event. That he did so with a greater distinctness at the last
meal, is thought to be proved by the assurance which, according to all
the synoptists, he gave to his disciples, that he would no more drink
of the fruit of the vine until he drank it new in the kingdom of his
Father; whence, as there is no ground for supposing a vow of abstinence
on his part, he must have foreseen that his end would arrive within the
next few days. If, however, we observe how in Luke this assurance in
relation to the wine is preceded by the declaration of Jesus, that he
will no more eat the passover until it be fulfilled in the kingdom of
God, it appears probable that originally the fruit of the vine also was
understood not as wine in general, but as specially the beverage of the
passover; of which a trace may perhaps be discovered in the expression
of Matthew and Mark—this fruit of the vine, τουτου τοῦ γεννήματος τῆς
ἀμπέλου. Meals in the messianic kingdom were, in accordance with the
ideas of the age, often spoken of by Jesus, and he may have expected
that in that kingdom the Passover would be observed with peculiar
solemnity. When therefore he declares that he will no more partake of
this meal in the present age, αἰὼν, but only in the future; first, this
does not apply to eating and drinking in general, and hence does not
mean that his sojourn in this pre-messianic world was to have an end
within the next few days, but only within the space of a year; nor,
secondly, does it necessarily involve the idea that this change was to
be introduced by his death, for he might even yet expect that the
kingdom of the Messiah would commence during his life.

Meanwhile, to deny every presentiment of his end on the part of Jesus
in these last days of his life, is on the one hand, not warranted by
our previous examination; and on the other, would compel us to doubt
the institution of the ritual Supper by Jesus, which we can hardly do
in opposition to the testimony of Paul. It is moreover easily
conceivable, that the continually increasing involvement of his
relation to the Jewish hierarchy, might at length bring to Jesus the
conviction that his death was inevitable, and that in a moment of
emotion he might even fix the next passover as the term which he should
not survive. Thus each of the supposed cases appears possible: either
that, owing to a thought suggested by the impressiveness of the moment,
at the last passover which he celebrated with his disciples, he made
bread and wine the symbols of his body which was to be slain and his
blood which was to be shed; or that for some time previously he had
embraced the design of bequeathing such a commemorative meal to his
adherents, in which case he may very probably have uttered the words
preserved by Paul and Luke. But before this intimation of the death of
Jesus had been duly appropriated by the disciples, and received into
their conviction, they were overtaken by the actual catastrophe, for
which, therefore, they might be regarded as wholly unprepared.

CHAPTER III.

RETIREMENT TO THE MOUNT OF OLIVES, ARREST, TRIAL, CONDEMNATION AND
CRUCIFIXION OF JESUS.

§ 125.

AGONY OF JESUS IN THE GARDEN.

According to the synoptical narratives, Jesus, immediately after the
conclusion of the meal and the singing of the Hallel, it being his
habit during this feast time to spend the night out of Jerusalem (Matt.
xxi. 17; Luke xxii. 39), went to the Mount of Olives, into a garden
χωρίον (in John, κῆπος) called Gethsemane (Matt. xxvi. 30, 36 parall.).
John, who gives the additional particular that the garden lay over the
brook Kedron, does not represent him as departing thither until after a
long series of valedictory discourses (xiv.–xvii.), of which we shall
hereafter have to speak again. While John makes the arrest of Jesus
follow immediately on the arrival of Jesus in the garden, the
synoptists insert between the two that scene which is usually
designated the agony of Jesus.

Their accounts of this scene are not in unison. According to Matthew
and Mark, Jesus takes with him his three most confidential disciples,
Peter and the sons of Zebedee, leaving the rest behind, is seized with
tearfulness and trembling, tells the three disciples that he is
sorrowful even unto death, and admonishing them to remain wakeful in
the mean time, removes to a distance from them also, that he may offer
a prayer for himself, in which, with his face bent to the earth, he
entreats that the cup of suffering may pass from him, but still resigns
all to the will of his Father. When he returns to the disciples, he
finds them sleeping, again admonishes them to watchfulness, then
removes from them a second time, and repeats the former prayer, after
which he once more finds his disciples asleep. For the third time he
retires to repeat the prayer, and returning, for the third time finds
the disciples sleeping, but now awakes them, in order to meet the
coming betrayer. Of the number three, which thus doubly figures in the
narrative of the two first Evangelists, Luke says nothing; according to
him, Jesus retires from all the disciples, after admonishing them to
watch, for the distance of about a stone’s cast, and prays kneeling,
once only, but nearly in the same words as in the other gospels, then
returns to the disciples and awakes them, because Judas is approaching
with the multitude. But, on the other hand, Luke in his single scene of
prayer, has two circumstances which are foreign to the other narrators,
namely, that while Jesus was yet praying, and immediately before the
most violent mental struggle, an angel appeared to strengthen him, and
that during the agony ἀγωνία which ensued, the sweat of Jesus was as it
were great drops of blood falling to the ground.

From the earliest times this scene in Gethsemane has been a
stumbling-block, because Jesus therein appears to betray a weakness and
fear of death which might be considered unworthy of him. Celsus and
Julian, doubtless having in their minds the great examples of a dying
Socrates and other heathen sages, expressed contempt for the fear of
death exhibited by Jesus; [1823] Vanini boldly extolled his own
demeanour in the face of execution as superior to that of Jesus; [1824]
and in the Evangelium Nicodemi, Satan concludes from this scene that
Christ is a mere man. [1825] The supposition resorted to in this
apocryphal book, that the trouble of Jesus was only assumed in order to
encourage the devil to enter into a contest with him, [1826] is but a
confession of inability to reconcile a real truth of that kind with the
ideal of Jesus. Hence appeal has been made to the distinction between
the two natures in Christ; the sorrowfulness and the prayer for the
removal of the cup having been ascribed to the human nature, the
resignation to the will of the Father, to the divine. [1827] As
however, in the first place, this appeared to introduce an inadmissible
division in the nature of Jesus; and in the second place, even a fear
experienced by his human nature in the prospect of approaching bodily
sufferings appeared unworthy of him: his consternation was represented
as being of a spiritual and sympathetic character—as arising from the
wickedness of Judas, the danger which threatened his disciples, and the
fate which was impending over his nation. [1828] The effort to free the
sorrow of Jesus from all reference to physical suffering, or to his own
person, attained its highest pitch in the ecclesiastical tenet, that
Jesus by substitution was burthened with the guilt of all mankind, and
vicariously endured the wrath of God against that guilt. [1829] Some
have even supposed that the devil himself wrestled with Jesus. [1830]

But such a cause for the trouble of Jesus is not found in the text; on
the contrary, here as elsewhere (Matt. xx. 22 f. parall.), the cup
ποτήριον for the removal of which Jesus prays, must be understood of
his own bodily sufferings and death. Moreover, the above ecclesiastical
opinion is founded on an unscriptural conception of the vicarious
office of Jesus. It is true that even in the conception of the
synoptists, the suffering of Jesus is a vicarious one for the sins of
many; but the substitution consists, according to them, not in Jesus
having immediately borne these sins and the punishment due to mankind
on account of them, but in a personal suffering being laid upon him on
account of those sins, and in order to remove their punishment. Thus,
as on the cross, it was not directly the sins of the world, and the
anger of God in relation to them, which afflicted him, but the wounds
which he received, and his whole lamentable situation, wherein he was
indeed placed for the sins of mankind: so, according to the idea of the
Evangelists, in Gethsemane also, it was not immediately the feeling of
the misery of humanity which occasioned his dismay, but the
presentiment of his own suffering, which, however, was encountered in
the stead of mankind.

From the untenable ecclesiastical view of the agony of Jesus, a descent
has in more modern times been made to coarse materialism, by reducing
what it was thought hopeless to justify ethically, as a mental
condition, to a purely physical one, and supposing that Jesus was
attacked by some malady in Gethsemane; [1831] an opinion which Paulus,
with a severity which he should only have more industriously applied to
his own explanations, pronounces to be altogether unseemly and opposed
to the text, though he does not regard as improbable Heumann’s
hypothesis, that in addition to his inward sorrow, Jesus had contracted
a cold in the clayey ground traversed by the Kedron. [1832] On the
other hand, the scene has been depicted in the colours of modern
sentimentalism, and the feelings of friendship, the pain of separation,
the thoughts of parting, have been assigned as the causes which so
lacerated the mind of Jesus: [1833] or a confused blending of all the
different kinds of sorrow, selfish and sympathetic, sensual and
spiritual, has been presupposed. [1834] Paulus explains εἰ δυνατόν
ἐστι, παρελθέτω τὸ ποτήριον (if it be possible, let this cup pass from
me) as the expression of a purely moral anxiety on the part of Jesus,
as to whether it were the will of God that he should give himself up to
the attack immediately at hand, or whether it were not more accordant
with the Divine pleasure, that he should yet escape from this danger:
thus converting into a mere inquiry of God, what is obviously the most
urgent prayer.

While Olshausen falls back on the ecclesiastical theory, and
authoritatively declares that the supposition of external corporeal
suffering having called forth the anguish of Jesus, ought to be
banished as one which would annihilate the essential characteristics of
his mission; others have more correctly acknowledged that in that
anguish the passionate wish to be delivered from the terrible
sufferings in prospect, the horror of sensitive nature in the face of
annihilation, are certainly apparent. [1835] With justice also it is
remarked, in opposition to the reproach which has been cast on Jesus,
that the speedy conquest over rebellious nature removes every
appearance of sinfulness; [1836] that, moreover, the shrinking of
physical nature at the prospect of annihilation belongs to the
essential conditions of life; [1837] nay, that the purer the human
nature in an individual, the more susceptible is it in relation to
suffering and annihilation; [1838] that the conquest over suffering
intensely appreciated is greater than a stoical or even a Socratic
insensibility. [1839]

With more reason, criticism has attacked the peculiar representation of
the third gospel. The strengthening angel has created no little
difficulty to the ancient church on dogmatical grounds,—to modern
exposition on critical grounds. An ancient scholium on the
consideration, that he who was adored and glorified with fear and
trembling by all the celestial powers, did not need the strengthening
of the angel, ὅτι τῆς ἰσχύος τοῦ ἀγγέλου οὐκ ἐπεδέετο ὁ ὑπὸ πάσης
ἐπουρανίου δυνάμεως φόβω καὶ τρόμῳ προσκυνούμενος καὶ δοξαζόμενος,
interprets the ἐνισχύειν ascribed to the angel as a declaring strong,
i.e. as the offering of a doxology; [1840] while others, rather than
admit that Jesus could need to be strengthened by an angel, transform
the ἄγγελος ἐνισχύων into an evil angel, who attempted to use force
against Jesus. [1841] The orthodox also, by founding a distinction
between the state of humiliation and privation in Christ and that of
his glorification, or in some similar way, have long blunted the edge
of the dogmatical difficulty: but in place of this a critical objection
has been only so much the more decidedly developed. In consideration of
the suspicion which, according to our earlier observations, attaches to
every alleged angelic appearance, it has been sought to reduce the
angel in this narrative first into a man, [1842] and then into an image
of the composure which Jesus regained. [1843] But the right point in
the angelic appearance for criticism to grapple with, is indicated by
the circumstance that Luke is the only Evangelist from whom we learn
it. [1844] If, according to the ordinary presupposition, the first and
fourth gospels are of apostolic origin; why this silence as to the
angel on the part of Matthew, who is believed to have been in the
garden, why especially on the part of John, who was among the three in
the nearer neighbourhood of Jesus? If it be said: because sleepy as
they were, and at some distance, and moreover under cover of the night,
they did not observe him: it must be asked, whence are we to suppose
that Luke received this information? [1845] That, assuming the
disciples not to have themselves observed the appearance, Jesus should
have narrated it to them on that evening, there is, from the intense
excitement of those hours and the circumstance that the return of Jesus
to his disciples was immediately followed by the arrival of Judas,
little probability; and as little, that he communicated it to them in
the days after the resurrection, and that nevertheless this information
appeared worthy of record to none but the third Evangelist, who yet
received it only at second hand. As in this manner there is every
presumption against the historical character of the angelic appearance;
why should not this also, like all appearances of the same kind which
have come under our notice, especially in the history of the infancy of
Jesus, be interpreted by us mythically? Gabler has been before us in
advancing the idea, that in the primitive Christian community the rapid
transition from the most violent mental conflict to the most tranquil
resignation, which was observable in Jesus on that night, was
explained, agreeably to the Jewish mode of thought, by the intervention
of a strengthening angel, and that this explanation may have mingled
itself with the narrative: Schleiermacher, too, finds it the most
probable that this moment, described by Jesus himself as one of hard
trial, was early glorified in hymns by angelic appearances, and that
this embellishment, originally intended in a merely poetical sense, was
received by the narrator of the third gospel as historical. [1846]

The other feature peculiar to Luke, namely, the bloody sweat, was early
felt to be no less fraught with difficulty than the strengthening by
the angel. At least it appears to have been this more than anything
else, which occasioned the exclusion of the entire addition in Luke, v.
43 and 44, from many ancient copies of the gospels. For as the
orthodox, who according to Epiphanius [1847] rejected the passage,
appear to have shrunk the most from the lowest degree of fear which is
expressed by the bloody sweat: so to the docetic opinions of some who
did not receive this passage, [1848] this was the only particular which
could give offence. Thus in an earlier age, doubts were raised
respecting the fitness of the bloody sweat of Jesus on dogmatical
considerations: while in more modern times this has been done on
physiological grounds. It is true that authorities are adduced for
instances of bloody sweat from Aristotle [1849] down to the more recent
investigators of nature; [1850] but such a phenomenon is only mentioned
as extremely rare, and as a symptom of decided disease. Hence Paulus
points to the ὡσεὶ (as it were), as indicating that it is not directly
a bloody sweat which is here spoken of, but only a sweat which might be
compared to blood: this comparison, however, he refers only to the
thick appearance of the drops, and Olshausen also agrees with him thus
far, that a red colour of the perspiration is not necessarily included
in the comparison. But in the course of a narrative which is meant as a
prelude to the sanguinary death of Jesus, it is the most natural to
take the comparison of the sweat to drops of blood, in its full sense.
Further, here, yet more forcibly than in relation to the angelic
appearance, the question suggests itself: how did Luke obtain this
information? or to pass by all questions which must take the same form
in this instance as in the previous one, how could the disciples, at a
distance and in the night, discern the falling of drops of blood?
According to Paulus indeed it ought not to be said that the sweat fell,
for as the word καταβαίνοντες, falling, refers not to ἱδρὼς, sweat, but
to the θρόμβοι αἵματος, drops of blood, which are introduced merely for
the purpose of comparison, it is only meant that a sweat as thick and
heavy as falling drops of blood stood on the brow of Jesus. But whether
it be said: the sweat fell like drops of blood to the earth, or: it was
like drops of blood falling to the earth, it comes pretty much to the
same thing; at least the comparison of a sweat standing on the brow to
blood falling on the earth would not be very apt, especially if
together with the falling, we are to abstract also the colour of the
blood, so that of the words, as it were drops of blood falling on the
ground, ὡσεὶ θρόμβοι αἵματος καταβαίνοντες εἰς τὴν γῆν, only ὡσεὶ
θρόμβοι, as it were drops, would properly have any decided meaning.
Since then we can neither comprehend the circumstance, nor conceive
what historical authority for it the narrator could have had, let us,
with Schleiermacher, rather take this feature also as a poetical one
construed historically by the Evangelist, or better still, as a
mythical one, the origin of which may be easily explained from the
tendency to perfect the conflict in the garden as a prelude to the
sufferings of Jesus on the cross, by showing that not merely the
psychical aspect of that suffering was fore-shadowed in the mental
trouble, but also its physical aspect, in the bloody sweat.

As a counterpoise to this peculiarity of Luke, his two predecessors
have, as we have said, the twofold occurrence of the number three,—the
three disciples taken apart, and the three retirements and prayers of
Jesus. It has indeed been contended that so restless a movement hither
and thither, so rapid an alternation of retirement and return, is
entirely suited to the state of mind in which Jesus then was, [1851]
and also, that in the repetition of the prayer there is correctly shown
an appropriate gradation; a more and more complete resignation to the
will of the Father. [1852] But that the two narrators count the
retirements of Jesus, marking them by the expressions ἐκ δευτέρου and
ἐκ τρίτου, at once shows that the number three was a point of
importance to them; and when Matthew, though he certainly gives in the
second prayer an expression somewhat different from that of the first,
in the third makes Jesus only repeat the same words, τὸν αὐτὸν λόγον,
and when Mark does this even the second time,—this is a significant
proof that they were embarrassed how to fill up the favourite number
three with appropriate matter. According to Olshausen, Matthew, with
his three acts of this conflict, must be right in opposition to Luke,
because these three attacks made on Jesus through the medium of fear,
correspond to the three attacks through the medium of desire, in the
history of the temptation. This parallel is well founded; it only leads
to an opposite result to that deduced by Olshausen. For which is more
probable; that in both cases the threefold repetition of the attack had
an objective ground, in a latent law of the kingdom of spirits, and
hence is to be regarded as really historical; or that it had merely a
subjective ground in the manner of the legend, so that the occurrence
of this number here, as certainly as above in the history of the
temptation, points to something mythical? [1853]

If then we subtract the angel, the bloody sweat, and the precisely
threefold repetition of the retirement and prayer of Jesus, as mythical
additions, there remains so far, as an historical kernel, the fact,
that Jesus on that evening in the garden experienced a violent access
of fear, and prayed that his sufferings might be averted, with the
reservation nevertheless of an entire submission to the will of God:
and at this point of the inquiry, it is not a little surprising, on the
ordinary view of the relation between our gospels, that even this
fundamental fact of the history in question, is wanting in the Gospel
of John.

§ 126.

RELATION OF THE FOURTH GOSPEL TO THE EVENTS IN GETHSEMANE. THE FAREWELL
DISCOURSES IN JOHN, AND THE SCENE FOLLOWING THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE
GREEKS.

The relation of John to the synoptical narratives just considered has,
when regarded more closely, two aspects: first, he has not what the
synoptists present; and secondly, instead of this he has something
which it is difficult to reconcile with their statements.

As regards the first and negative side, it has to be explained how, on
the ordinary supposition concerning the author of the fourth gospel and
the correctness of the synoptical account, it happens that John, who
according to the two first gospels was one of the three whom Jesus took
with him, to be the more immediate witnesses of his conflict, passes in
silence over the whole event? It will not suffice to appeal to his
sleepiness during the scene; for, if this was a hindrance to its
narration, all the Evangelists must have been silent on the subject,
and not John alone. Hence the usual expedient is tried here also, and
he is said to have omitted the scene because he found it already
presented with sufficient care in the writings of the synoptists.
[1854] But between the two first synoptists and the third there is here
so important a divergency, as to demand most urgently that John, if he
took their accounts into consideration, should speak a mediating word
in this difference. If however, John had not the works of his
predecessors lying before him, he might still, it is said, suppose that
history to be sufficiently familiar to his readers as a part of
evangelical tradition. [1855] But as this tradition was the source of
the divergent representations of the synoptists, it must itself have
early begun to exhibit variations, and to narrate the fact first in one
way, then in another: consequently on this view also there was a call
on the author of the fourth gospel to rectify these wavering accounts.
Hence of late an entirely new supposition has been adopted, namely,
that John omits the events in Gethsemane lest, by the mention of the
strengthening angel, he should give any furtherance to the Ebionitish
opinion that the higher nature in Christ was an angel, which united
itself with him at baptism; and now as it might be inferred, again
departed from him before the hour of suffering. [1856] But—not to urge
that we have already found any hypothesis of this nature inadequate to
explain the omissions in the Gospel of John—if this Evangelist wished
to avoid any indication of a close relation between Jesus and angels,
he must also have excluded other passages from his gospel: above all,
as Lücke remarks, [1857] the declaration concerning the ascending and
descending of angels upon him, i. 52; and also the idea, given indeed
only as the conjecture of some bystanders, that an angel spake to him,
ἄγγελος αὐτῷ λελάληκεν, xii. 29. If, however, he on any ground
whatever, found special matter of hesitation in the appearance of the
angel in the garden: this would only be a reason for omitting the
intervention of the angel, with Matthew and Mark, and not for excluding
the whole scene, which was easily separable from this single
particular.

If the mere absence of the incident from the narrative of John is not
to be explained, the difficulty increases when we consider what this
Evangelist communicates to us instead of the scene in the garden,
concerning the mental condition of Jesus during the last hours previous
to his arrest. In the same place which the synoptists assign to the
agony in the garden, John, it is true, has nothing, for he makes the
capture of Jesus follow at once on his arrival in the garden: but
immediately before, at and after the last meal, he has discourses
inspired by a state of mind, which could hardly have as a sequel scenes
like those which according to the synoptical narratives occurred in the
garden. In the farewell discourses in John, namely, xiv.–xvii., Jesus
speaks precisely in the tone of one who has already inwardly triumphed
over approaching suffering; from a point of view in which death is
quenched in the beams of the glory which is to come after; with a
divine peace which is cheerful in the certainty of its immovability:
how is it possible that immediately after, this peace should give place
to the most violent mental emotion, this tranquillity, to a trouble
even unto death, and that from victory achieved he should sink again
into doubtful contest, in which he needed strengthening by an angel? In
those farewell discourses, he appears throughout as one who from the
plenitude of his inward serenity and confidence, comforts his trembling
friends: and yet he now seeks spiritual aid from the drowsy disciples,
for he requests them to watch with him; there, he is so certain of the
salutary effects of his approaching death, as to assure his followers,
that it is well for them that he should go away, else the Comforter
παράκλητος would not come to them: here, he again doubts whether his
death be really the will of the Father; there, he exhibits a
consciousness which under the necessity of death, inasmuch as it
comprehends that necessity, recovers freedom, so that his will to die
is one with the divine will that he should die: here, these two wills
are so at variance, that the subjective, submissively indeed, but
painfully, bows to the absolute. And these two opposite states of mind
are not even separated by any intervening incident of an appalling
character, but only by the short space of time which elapsed during the
walk from Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives, across the Kedron: just as
if, in that brook, as in another Lethe, Jesus had lost all remembrance
of the foregoing discourses.

It is true that we are here referred to the alternation of mental
states, which naturally becomes more rapid in proportion as the
decisive moment approaches; [1858] to the fact that not seldom in the
life of believers there occurs a sudden withdrawal of the higher
sustenance of the soul, an abandonment of them by God, which alone
renders the victory nevertheless achieved truly great and admirable.
[1859] But this latter opinion at once betrays its unintelligent origin
from a purely imaginative species of thought (to which the soul can
appear like a lake, ebbing or flowing according as the floodgates of
the conducting canals are opened or closed), by the contradictions in
which it is on all sides involved. The triumph of Christ over the fear
of death is said only to appear in its true magnitude, when we
consider, that while a Socrates could only conquer because he remained
in the full possession of his mental energies, Christ was able to
triumph over all the powers of darkness, even when forsaken by God and
the fulness of his spirit, by his merely human soul ψυχὴ:—but is not
this the rankest Pelagianism, the most flagrant contradiction of the
doctrine of the church, as of sound philosophy, which alike maintain
that without God, man can do no good thing, that only by his armour can
man repel the shafts of the wicked one? To escape from thus
contradicting the results of sober reflection, the imaginative thinker
is driven to contradict himself, by supposing that in the strengthening
angel (which, incidentally, contrary to the verbal significance of the
text, is reduced to a merely internal vision of Jesus) there was
imparted to Jesus, when wrestling in the extremity of his abandonment,
an influx of spiritual strength; so that he thus would not, as it was
at first vaunted, have conquered without, but only with Divine aid; if,
in accordance with Luke, the angel be supposed to have appeared prior
to the last, most violent part of the conflict, in order to strengthen
Jesus for this ultimate trial. But rather than fall into so evident a
self-contradiction, Olshausen prefers covertly to contradict the text,
and hence transposes the order of the incidents, assuming, without
further preliminary, that the strengthening came after the third
prayer, consequently after the victory had been already gained, whence
he is driven to the extreme arbitrariness of interpreting the phrase:
καὶ γενόμενος ἐν ἀγωνίᾳ ἐκτενέστερον προσηύχετο, and being in an agony
he prayed, as the pluperfect—he had prayed.

But setting aside this figurative representation of the cause which
produced the sudden change of mood in Jesus; such a change is in itself
burthened with many difficulties. Correctly speaking, what here took
place in Jesus was not a mere change, but a relapse of the most
startling kind. In the so-called sacerdotal prayer, John xvii.
especially, Jesus had completely closed his account with the Father;
all fear in relation to what awaited him lay so far behind the point
which he had here attained, that he spent not a single word on his own
suffering, and only spoke of the afflictions which threatened his
friends; the chief subject of his communion with the Father was the
glory into which he was about to enter, and the blessedness which he
hoped to have obtained for his followers: so that his departure to the
scene of his arrest has entirely the character of an accessory fact,
merely consummating by external realization what was already inwardly
and essentially effected. Now if Jesus after this closing of his
account with God, once more opened it; if after having held himself
already victor, he once more sank into anxious conflict: must he not
have laid himself open to the remonstrance: why didst thou not, instead
of indulging in vain anticipations of glory, rather occupy thyself
betimes with earnest thoughts of the coming trial, that by such a
preparation, thou mightest spare thyself perilous surprise on its
approach? why didst thou utter the words of triumph before thou hadst
fought, so as to be obliged with shame to cry for help at the on-coming
of the battle? In fact after the assurance of already achieved victory
expressed in the farewell discourses, and especially in the final
prayer, the lapse into such a state of mind as that described by the
synoptists, would have been a very humiliating declension, which Jesus
could not have foreseen, otherwise he would not have expressed himself
with so much confidence; and which, therefore, would prove that he was
deceived in himself, that he held himself to be stronger than he
actually found himself, and that he had given utterance to this too
high self-valuation, not without a degree of presumption. Those who
regard this as inconsistent with the equally judicious and modest
character which Jesus manifests on other occasions, will find
themselves urged to the dilemma, that either the farewell discourses in
John, at least the final prayer, or else the events in Gethsemane,
cannot be historical.

It is to be regretted that in coming to a decision in this case,
theologians have set out rather from dogmatical prejudices than from
critical grounds. Usteri’s assertion, at least, that the representation
given in John of the state of mind of Jesus in his last hours is the
only correct one, while that of the synoptists is unhistorical, [1860]
is only to be accounted for by that author’s then zealous adherence to
the paragraphs of Schleiermacher’s Dogmatik, wherein the idea of the
impeccability of Jesus is carried to an extent which excludes even the
slightest degree of conflict; for that, apart from such
presuppositions, the representation given in John of the last hours of
Jesus, is the more natural and appropriate, it might be difficult to
prove. On the contrary, Bretschneider might rather appear to be right,
when he claims the superiority in naturalness and intrinsic evidence of
truth for the synoptists: [1861] were it not that our confidence in the
decisions of this writer is undermined, by his dislike for the
dogmatical and metaphysical purport of the discourses assigned to this
period in John—a dislike which appears to indicate that his entire
polemic against John originated in the discordance between his own
critical philosophy of reflection, and the speculative doctrine of the
fourth gospel.

John, indeed, as even the author of the Probabilia remarks, has not
wholly passed over the anxiety of Jesus in relation to his approaching
death; he has only assigned to it an earlier epoch, John xii. 27 ff.
The scene with which John connects it takes place immediately after the
entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem, when certain Greeks, doubtless
proselytes of the gate, who had come among the multitude to the feast,
wished to have an interview with him. With all the diversity of the
circumstances and of the event itself, there is yet a striking
agreement between what here occurs and what the synoptists place in the
last evening of the life of Jesus, and in the seclusion of the garden.
As Jesus here declares to his disciples, my soul is troubled even unto
death, περίλυπός ἐστιν ἡ ψυχή μου ἕως θανάτου (Matt. xxvi. 38): so
there he says: Now is my soul troubled, νῦν ἡ ψυχή μου τετάρακται (John
xii. 27); as he here prays, that if it be possible, this hour may pass
from him, ἵνα, εἰ δυνατόν ἐστι, παρέλθη ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ ἡ ὥρα (Mark xiv. 35):
so there he entreats: Father, save me from this hour, πάτερ, σωσόν με
ἐκ τῆς ὥρας ταύτης (John xii. 27); as here he calms himself by the
restriction: nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt, ἀλλ’ οὐ τί
ἐγὼ θέλω, ἀλλὰ τί σύ (Mark xiv. 36): so there, by the reflection: but
for this cause came I to this hour, ἀλλὰ διὰ τοῦτο ἦλθον εἰς τὴν ὥραν
ταύτην (John xii. 27); lastly, as here an angel appears strengthening
Jesus, ἄγγελος ἐνισχύων (Luke xxii. 43): so there something happens
which occasions the bystanders to observe that an angel spake to him,
ἄγγελος αὐτῷ λελάληκεν (John xii. 29). This similarity has induced many
of the more modern theologians to pronounce the incident in John xii.
27 ff., and that in Gethsemane identical; and after this admission the
only question was, on which side the reproach of inaccurate narration,
and more especially of erroneous position, ought to fall.

Agreeably to the tendency of the latest criticism of the gospels, the
burthen of error in this matter has been more immediately cast on the
synoptists. The true occasion of the mental conflict of Jesus is said
to be found only in John, namely, in the approach of those Greeks who
intimated to him through Philip and Andrew their wish for an interview
with him. These persons doubtless wished to make the proposal that he
should leave Palestine and carry forward his work among the foreign
Jews; such a proposal held out to him the enticement of escape from the
threatening danger, and this for some moments placed him in a state of
doubt and inward conflict, which however ended by his refusing to admit
the Greeks to his presence. [1862] Here we have the effects of a vision
rendered so acute by a double prejudice, both critical and dogmatical,
as to read statements between the lines of the text; for of such an
intended proposal on the part of the Greeks, there is no trace in John;
and yet, even allowing that the Evangelist knew nothing of the plan of
the Greeks from these individuals themselves, there must have been some
intimation in the discourse of Jesus that his emotion had reference to
such a proposal. Judging from the context, the request of the Greeks
had no other motive than that the solemn entrance of Jesus, and the
popular rumour concerning him, had rendered them curious to see and
know the celebrated man; and this desire of theirs was not connected
with the emotion which Jesus experienced on the occasion, otherwise
than that it led Jesus to think of the speedy propagation of his
kingdom in the Gentile world, and of its indispensable condition,
namely, his death. Here, however, the idea of his death is only
mediately and remotely presented to the soul of Jesus; hence it is the
more difficult to conceive how it could affect him so strongly, as that
he should feel himself urged to beseech the Father for delivery from
this hour; and if he were ever profoundly moved by the presentiment of
death, the synoptists appear to place this fear in a more suitable
position, in immediate proximity to the commencement of his sufferings.
The representation of John is also deficient in certain circumstances,
presented by the synoptists, which appear to vindicate the trouble of
Jesus. In the solitude of the garden and the gloom of night, such an
ebullition of feeling is more conceivable; and its unrepressed
utterance to his most intimate and worthy friends is natural and
justifiable. But according to John that agitation seized Jesus in the
broad daylight, in a concourse of people; a situation in which it is
ordinarily more easy to maintain composure, or in which at least it is
usual, from the possibility of misconstruction, to suppress the more
profound emotions.

Hence it is more easy to agree with Theile’s opinion, that the author
of the fourth gospel has inserted the incident, correctly placed by the
synoptists, in a false position. [1863] Jesus having said, as an
introduction to the answer which he returned to the request of the
Greeks, that they might see the man who had been so glorified by his
entrance into the city: Yes, the hour of my glorification is come, but
of glorification by death (xii. 23 f.): this led the narrator astray,
and induced him, instead of giving the real answer of Jesus to the
Greeks together with the result, to make Jesus dilate on the intrinsic
necessity of his death, and then almost unconsciously to interweave the
description of the internal conflict which Jesus had to experience in
virtue of his voluntary sacrifice, whence he subsequently, in its
proper place, omits this conflict. There is nothing strange in Theile’s
opinion, except that he supposes it possible for the Apostle John to
have made such a transposition. That the scene in Gethsemane, from his
having been asleep while it was passing, was not deeply imprinted on
his mind, and that it was besides thrust into the background of his
memory by the crucifixion which shortly followed, might have been
considered explanatory of an entire omission, or a merely summary
account of the scene on his part, but by no means of an incorrect
position. If notwithstanding his sleepiness at the time, he had taken
any notice of the event, he must at least have retained thus much—that
that peculiar state of mind in Jesus befel him close upon the
commencement of his sufferings, in the night and in privacy: how could
he ever so far belie his memory as to make the scene take place at a
much earlier period, in the open day, and among many people? Rather
than thus endanger the authenticity of the Gospel of John, others,
alleging the possibility that such a state of mind might occur more
than once in the latter part of the life of Jesus, deny the identity of
the two scenes. [1864]

Certainly, between the synoptical representation of the mental conflict
of Jesus and that given in John, besides the external difference of
position, there exist important internal divergencies; the narrative in
John containing features which have no analogy with anything in the
synoptical account of the events in Gethsemane. It is true that the
petition of Jesus in John for deliverance from this hour, is perfectly
in unison with his prayer in the synoptists: but, on the other hand,
there is no parallel to the additional prayer in John: Father, glorify
thy name, πάτερ, δόξασόν σου τὸ ὄνομα (xii. 28): further, though in
both accounts an angel is spoken of, yet there is no trace in the
synoptists of the heavenly voice which in the fourth gospel occasions
the belief that an angel is concerned. Such heavenly voices are not
found in the three first gospels elsewhere than at the baptism and
again at the transfiguration; of which latter scene the prayer of Jesus
in John: Father, glorify thy name, may remind us. In the synoptical
description of the transfiguration, it is true the expressions δόξα,
glory and δοξάζειν, to glorify, are not found: but the Second Epistle
to Peter represents Jesus as receiving in the transfiguration honour
and glory, τιμὴν καὶ δόξαν, and the heavenly voice as coming from the
excellent glory, μεγαλοπρεπὴς δόξα (i. 17 f.). Thus in addition to the
two narratives already considered, there presents itself a third as a
parallel; since the scene in John xii. 27 ff. is on the one side, by
the trouble of spirit and the angel, allied to the occurrences in
Gethsemane, while on the other side, by the prayer for glorification
and the confirmatory voice from heaven, it has some affinity with the
history of the transfiguration. And here two cases are possible: either
that the narrative of John is the simple root, the separation of which
into its constituent elements has given rise in a traditional manner to
the two synoptical anecdotes of the transfiguration and the agony in
the garden; or that these last are the original formations, from the
fusing and intermingling of which in the legend the narrative of John
is the mixed product: between which cases only the intrinsic character
of the narratives can decide. That the synoptical narratives of the
transfiguration and the agony in the garden are clear pictures, with
strongly marked features, can by itself prove nothing; since, as we
have sufficiently shown, a narrative of legendary origin may just as
well possess these characteristics as one of a purely historical
nature. Thus if the narrative in John were merely less clear and
definite, this need not prevent it from being regarded as the original,
simple sketch, from which the embellishing hand of tradition had
elaborated those more highly coloured pictures. But the fact is that
the narrative in John is wanting not only in definiteness, but in
agreement with the attendant circumstances and with itself. We have no
intimation what was the answer of Jesus to the Greeks, or what became
of those persons themselves; no appropriate motive is given for the
sudden anguish of Jesus and his prayer for glorification. Such a
mixture of heterogeneous parts is always the sign of a secondary
product, of an alluvial conglomeration; and hence we seem warranted to
conclude, that in the narrative of John the two synoptical anecdotes of
the transfiguration and the agony in the garden are blended together.
If, as is apparently the case, the legend when it reached the fourth
Evangelist presented these two incidents in faded colours, [1865] and
in indistinct outline: it would be easy for him, since his idea of
glorification (δοξάζειν) had the double aspect of suffering and
exaltation, to confuse the two; what he gathered from the narrative of
the agony in the garden, of a prayer of Jesus to the Father, he might
connect with the heavenly voice in the history of the transfiguration,
making this an answer to the prayer; to the voice, the more particular
import of which, as given by the synoptists, was unknown to him, he
gave, in accordance, with his general notion of this incident as a
glory δόξα conferred on Jesus, the import: I have both glorified and
will glorify again, καὶ ἐδόξασα, καὶ πάλιν δοξάσω, and to make it
correspond with this divine response, he had to unite with the prayer
of Jesus for deliverance that for glorification also; the strengthening
angel, of which the fourth Evangelist had perhaps also heard something,
was included in the opinion of the people as to the source of the
heavenly voice; in regard to the time, John placed his narrative about
midway between the transfiguration and the agony in the garden, and
from ignorance of the original circumstances the choice in this respect
was infelicitous.

If we here revert to the question from which we set out, whether we are
rather to retain the farewell discourses in John as thoroughly
historical, and renounce the synoptical representation of the scene in
Gethsemane, or vice versâ: we shall be more inclined, considering the
result of the inquiry just instituted, to embrace the latter
alternative. The difficulty, that it is scarcely conceivable how John
could accurately remember these long discourses of Jesus, Paulus has
thought to solve, by the conjecture, that the apostle, probably on the
next Sabbath, while Jesus lay in the grave, recalled to his mind the
conversations of the previous evening, and perhaps also wrote them
down. [1866] But in that period of depression, which John also shared,
he would be scarcely in a condition to reproduce these discourses
without obscuring their peculiar hue of unclouded serenity; on the
contrary, as the author of the Wolfenbüttel fragments observes, had the
narrative of the words and deeds of Jesus been committed to writing by
the Evangelists in the couple of days after the death of Jesus, when
they had no longer any hope, all promises would have been excluded from
their gospels. [1867] Hence even Lücke, in consideration of the mode of
expression in the farewell discourses, and particularly in the final
prayer, being so peculiarly that of John, has relinquished the position
that Jesus spoke in the very words which John puts into his mouth, i.e.
the authenticity of these discourses in the strictest sense; but only
to maintain the more firmly their authenticity in the wider sense, i.e.
the genuineness of the substantial thoughts. [1868] Even this, however,
has been attacked by the author of the Probabilia, for he asks, with
especial reference to chap. xvii., whether it be conceivable that Jesus
in the anticipation of violent death, had nothing of more immediate
concern than to commune with God on the subject of his person, the
works he had already achieved, and the glory to be expected? and
whether it be not rather highly probable that the prayer flowed only
from the mind of the writer, and was intended by him as a confirmation
of his doctrine of Jesus as the incarnate word λόγος, and of the
dignity of the apostles? [1869] This representation is so far true that
the final prayer in question resembles not an immediate outpouring of
soul, but a product of reflection—is rather a discourse on Jesus than a
discourse from him. It presents everywhere the mode of thought of one
who stands far in advance of the circumstances of which he writes, and
hence already sees the form of Jesus in the glorifying haze of
distance; an illusion which he heightens by putting his own thoughts,
which had sprung from an advanced development of the Christian
community, into the mouth of its Founder prior to its actual existence.
But in the preceding farewell discourses also there are many thoughts
which appear to have taken their shape from an experience of the event.
Their entire tone may be the most naturally explained by the
supposition, that they are the work of one to whom the death of Jesus
was already a past event, the terrors of which had melted away in its
blessed consequences, and in the devotional contemplation of the
church. In particular, apart from what is said of the return of Christ,
that era in the Christian cause which is generally called the
outpouring of the Holy Spirit, is predicted in the declarations
concerning the Paraclete, and the judgment which he would hold over the
world (xiv. 16 ff. 25, xv. 26, xvi. 7 ff. 13 ff.), with a distinctness
which seems to indicate light borrowed from the issue.

In relation, however, to the fact that the farewell discourses involve
the decided foreknowledge of the immediately approaching result, the
sufferings and death of Jesus (xiii. 18 ff., 33, 38, xiv. 30 f. xvi. 5
ff. 16, 32 f.), the narrative of John stands on the same ground with
the synoptical one, since this also rests on the presupposition of the
most exact prescience of the hour and moment when the sufferings will
commence. It was not only at the last meal and on the departure to the
Mount of Olives, that this foreknowledge was shown, according to the
three first gospels, for in them as well as in John, Jesus predicts
that the denial of Peter will take place before the cock crow; not only
does the agony in the garden rest on the foreknowledge of the impending
sufferings, but at the end of this conflict Jesus is able to say that
now, at this very minute, the betrayer is in the act of approaching
(Matt. xxvi. 45 f.). Paulus, it is true, maintains that Jesus saw from
a distance the troop of guards coming out of the city, which, as they
had torches, was certainly possible from a garden on the Mount of
Olives: but without being previously informed of the plans of his
enemies, Jesus could not know that he was the object of pursuit; and at
any rate the Evangelists narrate the words of Jesus as a proof of his
supernatural knowledge. But if according to our previous inquiry, the
foreknowledge of the catastrophe in general could not proceed from the
higher principle in Jesus, neither could that of the precise moment
when it would commence; while that he in a natural way, by means of
secret friends in the Sanhedrim, or otherwise, was apprised of the
fatal blow which the Jewish rulers with the help of one of his
disciples were about to aim at him in the coming night, we have no
trace in our Evangelical accounts, and we are therefore not authorized
to presuppose anything of the kind. On the contrary, as the above
declaration of Jesus is given by the narrators as a proof of his higher
knowledge, either we must receive it as such, or, if we cannot do this,
we must embrace the negative inference, that they are here incorrect in
narrating such a proof; and the positive conclusion on which this
borders is, not that that knowledge was in fact only a natural one,
but, that the evangelical narrators must have had an interest in
maintaining a supernatural knowledge of his approaching sufferings on
the part of Jesus; an interest the nature of which has been already
unfolded.

The motive also for heightening the prescience into a real
presentiment, and thus for creating the scene in Gethsemane, is easy of
discovery. On the one hand, there cannot be a more obvious proof that a
foreknowledge of an event or condition has existed, than its having
risen to the vividness of a presentiment; on the other hand, the
suffering must appear the more awful, if the mere presentiment extorted
from him who was destined to that suffering, anguish even to bloody
sweat, and prayer for deliverance. Further, the sufferings of Jesus
were exhibited in a higher sense, as voluntary, if before they came
upon him externally, he had resigned himself to them internally; and
lastly, it must have gratified primitive Christian devotion, to
withdraw the real crisis of these sufferings from the profane eyes to
which he was exposed on the cross, and to enshrine it as a mystery only
witnessed by a narrow circle of the initiated. As materials for the
formation of this scene, besides the description of the sorrow and the
prayer which were essential to it, there presented itself first the
image of a cup ποτήριον, used by Jesus himself as a designation of his
sufferings (Matt. xx. 22 f.); and secondly, Old Testament passages, in
Psalms of lamentation, xlii. 6, 12, xliii. 5, where in the LXX. the
ψυχὴ περίλυπος (soul exceeding sorrowful) occurs, and in addition to
this the expression ἕως θανάτου (unto death) the more naturally
suggested itself, since Jesus was here really about to encounter death.
This representation must have been of early origin, because in the
Epistle to the Hebrews (v. 7) there is an indubitable allusion to this
scene.—Thus Gabler said too little when he pronounced the angelic
appearance, a mythical garb of the fact that Jesus in the deepest
sorrow of that night suddenly felt an accession of mental strength;
since rather, the entire scene in Gethsemane, because it rests on
presuppositions destitute of proof, must be renounced.

Herewith the dilemma above stated falls to the ground, since we must
pronounce unhistorical not only one of the two, but both
representations of the last hours of Jesus before his arrest. The only
degree of distinction between the historical value of the synoptical
account and that of John is, that the former is a mythical product of
the first era of traditional formation, the latter of the second,—or
more correctly, the one is a product of the second order, the other of
the third. The representation common to the synoptists and to John,
that Jesus foreknew his sufferings even to the day and hour of their
arrival, is the first modification which the pious legend gave to the
real history of Jesus; the statement of the synoptists, that he even
had an antecedent experience of his sufferings, is the second step of
the mythical; while, that although he foreknew them, and also in one
instance had a foretaste of them (John xii. 27 ff.), he had yet long
beforehand completely triumphed over them, and when they stood
immediately before him, looked them in the face with unperturbed
serenity—this representation of the fourth gospel is the third and
highest grade of devotional, but unhistorical embellishment.

§ 127.

ARREST OF JESUS.

In strict accordance with the declaration of Jesus that even now the
betrayer is at hand, Judas while he is yet speaking approaches with an
armed force (Matt. xxvi. 47 parall., comp. John xvii. 3). This band,
which according to the synoptists came from the chief priests and
elders, was according to Luke led by the captains of the temple
στρατηγοῖς τοῦ ἱεροῦ, and hence was probably a detachment of the
soldiers of the temple, to whom, judging from the word ὄχλος, and from
staves ξύλοι being mentioned among the weapons, was apparently joined a
tumultuous crowd: according to the representation of John, who,
together with the servants or officers of the chief priests and
Pharisees, ὑπηρέταις τῶν ἀρχιερέων καὶ Φαρισαίων, speaks of a band
σπεῖρα, and a captain χιλίαρκος, without mentioning any tumultuary
force, it appears as if the Jewish magistrates had procured as a
support a detachment of Roman soldiery. [1870]

According to the three first Evangelists, Judas steps forth and kisses
Jesus, in order by this preconcerted sign to indicate him to the
approaching band as the individual whom they were to seize: according
to the fourth gospel, on the contrary, Jesus advances apparently out of
the garden (ἐξελθὼν) to meet them, and presents himself as the person
whom they seek. In order to reconcile this divergency, some have
conceived the occurrences thus: Jesus, to prevent his disciples from
being taken, first went towards the multitude, and made himself known;
hereupon Judas stepped forth, and indicated him by the kiss. [1871] But
had Jesus already made himself known, Judas might have spared the kiss;
for that the people did not believe the assertion of Jesus that he was
the man whom they sought, and still waited for its confirmation by the
kiss of the bribed disciple, is a supposition incompatible with the
statement of the fourth gospel that the words I am he, made so strong
an impression on them that they went backward and fell to the ground.
Hence others have inverted the order of the scene, imagining that Judas
first stepped forward and distinguished Jesus by the kiss, and that
then, before the crowd could press into the garden, Jesus himself
advanced and made himself known. [1872] But if Judas had already
indicated him by the kiss, and he had so well understood the object of
the kiss as is implied in his answer to it, Luke v. 48: there was no
need for him still to make himself known, seeing that he was already
made known; to do so for the protection of the disciples was equally
superfluous, since he must have inferred from the traitor’s kiss, that
it was intended to single him out and carry him away from his
followers; if he did so merely to show his courage, this was almost
theatrical: while, in general, the idea that Jesus, between the kiss of
Judas, and the entrance of the crowd, which was certainly immediate,
advanced towards the latter with questions and answers, throws into his
demeanour a degree of hurry and precipitancy so ill suited to his
circumstances, that the Evangelists can scarcely have meant such an
inference to be drawn. It should therefore be acknowledged that neither
of the two representations is designed as a supplement to the other,
[1873] since each has a different conception of the manner in which
Jesus was made known, and in which Judas was active in the affair. That
Judas was guide to them that took Jesus, ὁδηγὸς τοῖς συλλαβοῦσι τὸν
Ἰησοῦν (Acts i. 16), all the Evangelists agree. But while according to
the synoptical account the task of Judas includes not only the pointing
out of the place, but also the distinguishing of the person by the
kiss, John makes the agency of Judas end with the indication of the
place, and represents him after the arrival on the spot as standing
inactive among the crowd (εἱστήκει δὲ καὶ Ἰούδας—μετ’ αὐτῶν, v. 5). Why
John does not assign to Judas the task of personally indicating Jesus,
it is easy to see: because, namely, he would have Jesus appear, not as
one delivered up, but as delivering himself up, so that his sufferings
may be manifested in a higher degree as undertaken voluntarily. We have
only to remember how the earliest opponents of Christianity imputed the
retirement of Jesus out of the city into the distant garden, as an
ignominious flight from his enemies, [1874] in order to find it
conceivable that there arose among the Christians at an early period
the inclination to transcend the common evangelical tradition in
representing his demeanour on his arrest in the light of a voluntary
self-resignation.

In the synoptists the kiss of Judas is followed by the cutting question
of Jesus to the traitor; in John, after Jesus has uttered the ἐγώ εἰμι,
I am he, it is stated that under the influence of these commanding
words, the multitude who had come out to seize him went backward and
fell to the ground, so that Jesus had to repeat his declaration and as
it were encourage the people to seize him. Of late it has been denied
that there was any miracle here: the impression of the personality of
Jesus, it is said, acted psychologically on those among the crowd who
had already often seen and heard Jesus; and in support of this opinion
reference is made to the examples of this kind in the life of Marius,
Coligny, and others. [1875] But neither in the synoptical account,
according to which there needed the indication of Jesus by the kiss,
nor in that of John, according to which there needed the declaration of
Jesus, I am he, does Jesus appear to be known to the crowd, at least in
such a manner as to exercise any profound influence over them; while
the above examples only show that sometimes the powerful impression of
a man’s personality has paralyzed the murderous hands of an individual
or of a few, but not that a whole detachment of civil officers and
soldiers has been made, not merely to draw back, but to fall to the
ground. It answers no purpose for Lücke to make first a few fall down
and then the whole crowd, except that of rendering it impossible to
imagine the scene with gravity. Hence we turn to the old theologians,
who here unanimously acknowledge a miracle. The Christ who by word of
his mouth cast down the hostile multitude, is no other than he who
according to 2 Thess. ii. 8, shall consume the Antichrist with the
spirit of his mouth, i.e. not the historical Christ, but the Christ of
the Jewish and primitive Christian imagination. The author of the
fourth gospel especially, who had so often remarked how the enemies of
Jesus and their creatures were unable to lay hands on him, because his
hour was not yet come (vii. 30, 32, 44 ff., viii. 20), had an
inducement, now, when the hour was come, to represent the ultimately
successful attempt as also failing at the first in a thoroughly
astounding manner; especially as this fully accorded with the interest
by which he is governed throughout the description of this whole
scene—the demonstrating that the capture of Jesus was purely an act of
his own free will. When Jesus lays the soldiers prostrate by the power
of his word, he gives them a proof of what he could do, if to liberate
himself were his object; and when he allows himself to be seized
immediately after, this appears as the most purely voluntary
self-sacrifice. Thus in the fourth gospel Jesus gives a practical proof
of that power, which in the first he only expresses by words, when he
says to one of his disciples: Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to
my Father, and he shall presently give me twelve legions of angels (v.
53)?

After this, the author of the fourth gospel very inappropriately holds
up the solicitude which Jesus manifested that his disciples should not
be taken captive with him, as a fulfilment of the declaration of Jesus
(xvii. 12), that he had lost none of those intrusted to him by the
Father; a declaration which was previously more suitably referred to
the spiritual preservation of his disciples. As the next feature in the
scene, all the Evangelists agree, that when the soldiers began to lay
hands on Jesus, one of his disciples drew his sword, and cut off the
ear of the high priest’s servant, an act which met with a reproof from
Jesus. Still Luke and John have each a peculiar trait. Not to mention
that both particularize the ear as the right ear, while their two
predecessors had left this point undetermined; the latter not only
gives the name of the wounded servant, but states that the disciple who
wounded him was Peter. Why the synoptists do not name Peter, it has
been sought to explain in different ways. The supposition that they
wished to avoid compromising the apostle, who at the time of the
composition of their gospels was yet living, [1876] belongs to the
justly exploded fictions of an exegesis framed on the false principle
of supplying conjecturally all those links in the chain of natural
causation which are wanting in the gospels. That these Evangelists
elsewhere for the most part omit names, [1877] is too sweeping an
accusation as regards Matthew, though he does indeed leave unnamed
indifferent persons, such as Jairus, or Bartimæus; but that the real
Matthew, or even the common evangelical tradition, thus early and
generally should have lost the name from an anecdote of Peter, so
thoroughly accordant with the part played by this apostle, can scarcely
be considered very probable. To me, the reverse would be much more
conceivable, namely, that the anecdote was originally current without
the mention of any name (and why should not a less distinguished
adherent of Jesus—for from the synoptists it is not necessarily to be
inferred that it was one of the twelve—whose name was therefore the
more readily forgotten, have had courage and rashness enough to draw
his sword at that crisis?), but a later narrator thought such a mode of
conduct particularly suited to the impetuous character of Peter, and
hence ascribed it to him by a combination of his own. On this
supposition, we need not appeal, in support of the possibility that
John could know the servant’s name, to his acquaintance with the
household of the high priest, [1878] any more than to a peculiar
acquaintance of Mark with some inhabitants of Jericho, in explanation
of his obtaining the name of the blind man.

The distinctive trait in Luke’s account of this particular is, that
Jesus heals the servant’s ear, apparently by a miracle. Olshausen here
makes the complacent remark, that this circumstance best explains how
Peter could escape uninjured—astonishment at the cure absorbed the
general attention: while according to Paulus, Jesus by touching the
wounded ear (ἁψάμενος) only meant to examine it, and then told what
must be done for the purpose of healing (ἰάσατο αὐτόν); had he cured it
by a miracle there must have been some notice of the astonishment of
the spectators. Such pains-taking interpretations are here especially
needless, since the fact that Luke stands alone in giving the trait in
question, together with the whole tenor of the scene, tells us plainly
enough what opinion we are to form on the subject. Should Jesus, who
had removed by his miraculous power so much suffering of which he was
innocent, leave uncured suffering which one of his disciples out of
attachment to him, and thus indirectly he himself, had caused? This
must soon have been found inconceivable, and hence to the stroke of the
sword of Peter was united a miraculous cure on the part of Jesus—the
last in the evangelical history.

Here, immediately before he is led away, the synoptists place the
remonstrance which Jesus addressed to those who had come to take him
prisoner: that though, by his daily public appearance in the temple he
had given the best opportunity for them to lay hands upon him, yet—a
bad augury for the purity of their cause—they came to a distance to
seek him with as many preparations, as against a thief? In the fourth
gospel, he is made to say something similar to Annas, to whose
inquiries concerning his disciples and his doctrine, he replies by
referring him to the publicity of his entire agency, to his teaching in
the temple and synagogue (xviii. 20 f.). Luke, as if he had gathered
from both, that Jesus had said something of this kind to the high
priest, and also at the time of his arrest, represents the chief
priests and elders themselves as being present in the garden, and Jesus
as here speaking to them in the above manner, which is certainly a mere
blunder. [1879]

According to the two first Evangelists, all the disciples now fled.
Here Mark has the special particular, that a young man with a linen
cloth cast about his naked body, when he was in danger of being seized,
left the linen cloth and fled naked. Apart from the industrious
conjectures of ancient and even modern expositors, as to who this young
man was; this information of Mark’s has been regarded as a proof of the
very early origin of this gospel, on the ground that so unimportant an
anecdote, and one moreover to which no name is attached, could have no
interest except for those who stood in close proximity to the persons
and events. [1880] But this inference is erroneous; for the above trait
gives even to us, at this remote distance of time, a vivid idea of the
panic and rapid flight of the adherents of Jesus, and must therefore
have been welcome to Mark, from whatever source he may have received
it, or how late soever he may have written.

§ 128.

EXAMINATION OF JESUS BEFORE THE HIGH PRIEST.

From the place of arrest the synoptists state Jesus to have been led to
the high priest, whose name, Caiaphas, is, however, only mentioned by
Matthew; while John represents him as being led in the first instance
to Annas, the father-in-law of the existing high priest; and only
subsequently to Caiaphas (Matt. xxvi. 57 ff. parall.; John xviii. 12
ff.). The important rank of Annas renders this representation of John
as conceivable as the silence of the synoptists is explicable, on the
ground that the ex-high priest had no power of deciding in this cause.
But it is more surprising that, as must be believed from the first
glance, the fourth Evangelist merely gives some details of the
transaction with Annas, and appears entirely to pass by the decisive
trial before the actual high priest, except that he states Jesus to
have been led away to Caiaphas. There was no more ready expedient for
the harmonists than the supposition, which is found e.g. in Euthymius,
that John, in consistency with the supplementary character of his
gospel, preserved the examination before Annas as being omitted by the
synoptists, while he passed by that before Caiaphas, because it was
described with sufficient particularity by his predecessors. [1881]
This opinion, that John and the synoptists speak of two entirely
distinct trials, has a confirmation in the fact that the tenor of the
respective trials is totally different. In that which the synoptists
describe, according to Matthew and Mark, the false witnesses first
appear against Jesus; the high priest then asks him if he really
pretends to be the Messiah, and on receiving an affirmative answer,
declares him guilty of blasphemy, and worthy of death, whereupon
follows maltreatment of his person. In the trial depicted by John,
Jesus is merely questioned concerning his disciples and his doctrine,
he appeals to the publicity of his conduct, and after having been
maltreated for this reply by an attendant (ὑπηρέτης), is sent away
without the passing of any sentence. That the fourth Evangelist should
thus give no particulars concerning the trial before Caiaphas is the
more surprising, since in the one before Annas, if it be this which he
narrates, according to his own representation nothing was decided, and
consequently the grounds for the condemnation of Jesus by the Jewish
authorities, and the sentence itself, are altogether wanting in his
gospel. To explain this by the supplementary object of John is to
impute to him too irrational a mode of procedure; for if he omitted
facts because the other Evangelists had already given them, without
intimating that he did so purely for that reason, he could only reckon
on introducing confusion, and entailing on himself the suspicion of
having given a false narrative. He can hardly have had the opinion that
the trial before Annas was the principal one, and that therefore it was
allowable to omit the other, since he reports no judgment as having
been passed in the former; but if he knew the trial before Caiaphas to
have been the principal one, and yet gave no more particular
information concerning it, this also was a highly singular course for
him to take.

Thus the very simplest view of the case seems at once to point to the
attempt to discover in the account of the fourth gospel indications
that it also is to be understood of the trial before Caiaphas. What
affords the strongest presumption of the identity of the two trials is
the identity of an incident concomitant with both, John as well as the
synoptists making Peter deny Jesus during the trial detailed. It is
further remarkable that after Annas has been spoken of, at v. 13, as
the father-in-law of Caiaphas, there follows at v. 14, a more precise
designation of Caiaphas as the author of the fatal counsel, recorded in
John xi. 50, although apparently the Evangelist proceeds to narrate a
trial held, not before Caiaphas, but before Annas. Moreover in the
description of the trial itself, there is mention throughout of the
palace and of questions from the high priest, a title which John
nowhere else applies to Annas, but only to Caiaphas. But that in
accordance with the above supposition, the Evangelist from v. 15,
should be describing something which passed before Caiaphas, appears
impossible from v. 24, for it is there first said that Annas sent Jesus
to Caiaphas, so that he must until then have been before Annas. With
ready thought this difficulty was first met by removing the 24th verse
to the place where it was wanted, namely, after v. 13, and laying the
blame of its present too late position on the negligence of
transcribers. [1882] As, however, this transposition, being destitute
of any critical authority, must appear an arbitrary and violent
expedient for getting rid of the difficulty, it was next tried whether
the statement in v. 24, without being actually moved from its place,
might not receive such an interpretation as to come in point of sense
after v. 13; i.e., the word ἀπέστειλεν was taken as a pluperfect, and
it was supposed that John intended here to supply retrospectively what
he had forgotten to observe at v. 13, namely, that Annas immediately
sent Jesus to Caiaphas, so that the trial just described was conducted
by the latter. [1883] As the general possibility of such an enallage
temporum is admissible, the only question is whether it be accordant
with the style of the present writer, and whether it be intimated in
the context. In the latter respect it is certainly true that if nothing
important had occurred in the presence of Annas, the Evangelist, in
annexing to his notice of the relationship of Annas to Caiaphas the
more precise designation of the latter, might be drawn on to speak
without further preface of the trial before Caiaphas, and might
afterwards, by way of appendix, at some resting place, as here at the
close of the transactions of the high priest with Jesus, intimate the
transition which he had made. An accurate Greek writer certainly in
this case, if he did not use the pluperfect, would at least have made
evident the explanatory reference to what had preceded, by the addition
of a γὰρ to the aorist. Our Evangelist, however, in whom the
characteristic of the Hellenistic writers to connect their propositions
but loosely, in accordance with the genius of the Hebrew language, is
very strongly marked, might perhaps have introduced that supplementary
observation even without a particle, or, according to the ordinary
reading, by οὖν, which is not merely indicative that a subject is
continued, but also that it is resumed. [1884] If these considerations
be held to establish that he also intended to narrate the trial before
Caiaphas: it is clear from the aspect of his account taken by itself,
as well as from the previous comparison with the synoptical one, that
his narrative cannot be complete.

We turn, therefore, to the account of the synoptists, and among them
also, namely, between the two first and the third, we find numerous
divergencies. According to the former, when Jesus was brought into the
palace of the high priest, the scribes and elders were already
assembled, and while it was still night proceeded to hold a trial, in
which first witnesses appeared, and then the high priest addressed to
him the decisive question, on the answer to which the assembly declared
him worthy of death (in John also the trial goes forward in the night,
but there is no intimation of the presence of the great council).
According to the representation of the third gospel, on the other hand,
Jesus throughout the night is merely kept under guard in the high
priest’s palace, and maltreated by the underlings; and when at the
break of day the Sanhedrim assembles, no witnesses appear, but the high
priest precipitates the sentence by the decisive question. Now, that in
the depth of the night, while Judas was gone out with the guard, the
members of the council should have assembled themselves for the
reception of Jesus, might be regarded as improbable, and in so far, the
preference might be given to the representation of the third gospel,
which makes them assemble at daybreak only: [1885] were it not that
Luke himself neutralizes this advantage by making the high priests and
elders present at the arrest; a zeal which might well have driven them
straightway to assemble for the sake of accelerating the conclusion.
But in the account of Matthew and Mark also there is this singularity,
that after they have narrated to us the whole trial together with the
sentence, they yet (xxvii. 1 and xv. 1) say: when the morning was come,
they took counsel, πρωΐας δὲ γενομένης συμβούλιον ἔλαβον, thus making
it appear, if not that the members of the Sanhedrim reassembled in the
morning, which could hardly be, seeing that they had been together the
whole night; yet that they now first came to a definite resolution
against Jesus, though, according to these same Evangelists, this had
already been done in the nocturnal council. [1886] It may be said that
to the sentence of death already passed in the night, was added in the
morning the resolution to deliver Jesus to Pilate: but according to the
then existing state of the law, this followed as a matter of course,
and needed no special resolution. That Luke and John omit the
production of the false witnesses, is to be regarded as a deficiency in
their narrative. For from the coincidence of John ii. 19 and Acts vi.
14 with Matthew and Mark, it is highly probable that the declaration
about the destruction and rebuilding of the temple was really uttered
by Jesus; while that that declaration should be used as an article of
accusation against him on his trial was an almost necessary result. The
absence of this weighty point in Luke, Schleiermacher explains by the
circumstance, that the author of this passage in the third gospel had
indeed followed the escort which conducted Jesus from the garden, but
had with most others been excluded from the palace of the high priest,
and consequently narrated what occurred there merely from hearsay. But,
not to anticipate future points, the single trait of the cure of the
servant’s ear suffices to preclude our attributing to the author of
this portion of Luke’s gospel so close a proximity to the fact. It
rather appears that the above declaration came to the third Evangelist
under the form of an article of accusation against Stephen, instead of
Jesus; while the fourth has it only as a declaration from Jesus, and
not as an article of accusation against him. This subject having
however necessarily come under our observation at an earlier point of
our inquiry, it is needless to pursue it further here. [1887]

When Jesus made no answer to the allegations of the witnesses, he was
asked, according to the two first Evangelists, by the high priest,—in
the third gospel, without the above cause, by the Sanhedrim,—whether he
actually maintained that he was the Messiah (the Son of God)? To this
question, according to the two former, he at once replies in the
affirmative, in the words σύ εἶπας, thou hast said, and ἐγώ εἰμι, I am,
and adds that hereafter or immediately (ἀπ’ ἄρτι) they would see the
Son of man sitting on the right hand of the divine power, and coming in
the clouds of heaven; according to Luke, on the other hand, he first
declares that his answer will be of no avail, and then adds that
hereafter the Son of man shall sit on the right hand of the power of
God; whereupon all eagerly ask: Art thou then the Son of God? and he
replies in the affirmative. Thus Jesus here expresses the expectation
that by his death he will at once enter into the glory of sitting as
Messiah at the right hand of God, according to Ps. cx. i, which he had
already, Matt. xxii. 44, interpreted of the Messiah. For even if he at
first perhaps thought of attaining his messianic glorification without
the intervention of death, because this intervention was not presented
to him by the ideas of the age; if it was only at a later period, and
as a result of circumstances, that the foreboding of such a necessity
began to arise and gradually to acquire distinctness in his mind; now,
a prisoner, forsaken by his adherents, in the presence of the
rancorously hostile Sanhedrim, it must, if he would retain the
conviction of his messiahship, become a certainty to him, that he could
enter into his messianic glorification by death alone. When, according
to the two first Evangelists, Jesus adds to the sitting on the right
hand of power, the coming in the clouds of heaven, he predicts, as on
an earlier occasion, his speedy advent, and in this instance he
decidedly predicts it as a return. Olshausen maintains that the ἀπ’
ἄρτι of Matthew ought to be referred only to καθήμενον κ.τ.λ., because
it would not suit ἐρχόμενον κ.τ.λ., since it is not to be conceived
that Jesus could then have represented himself as about to come in the
clouds: a purely dogmatical difficulty, which does not exist in our
point of view, but which cannot in any point of view warrant such an
offence against grammatical interpretation as this of Olshausen. On the
above declaration of Jesus, according to Matthew and Mark the high
priest rends his clothes, declaring Jesus convicted of blasphemy, and
the council pronounces him guilty of death; and in Luke also, all those
assembled observe that now there is no need of any further witness,
since the criminal declaration has been uttered by Jesus in their own
hearing.

To the sentence is then added in the two first Evangelists the
maltreatment of Jesus, which John, who here mentions no sentence,
represents as following the appeal of Jesus to the publicity of his
work, while Luke places it before the trial; more probably because it
was not any longer precisely known when this maltreatment occurred,
than because it was repeated at various times and under various
circumstances. In John the maltreatment is said to proceed from an
attendant, ὑπηρέτης in Luke, from the men that held Jesus, ἄνδρες
συνέχοντες τὸν Ἰ.; in Mark, on the contrary, those who began to spit in
the face of Jesus (καὶ ἤρξαντό τινες ἐμπτύειν αὐτῷ) must have been some
of those (πάντες) who had just before condemned him, since he
distinguishes the ὑπηρέτας, servants, from them; and in Matthew also,
who, without introducing a new nominative proceeds merely with τότε
ἤρξαντο, then began they, it is plainly the members of the Sanhedrim
themselves who descend to such unworthy conduct: which Schleiermacher
justly considers improbable, and in so far prefers the representation
of Luke to that of Matthew. [1888] In John the maltreatment consists in
a blow on the cheek with the palm of the hand, ῥάπισμα, which an
attendant gives Jesus on account of a supposed insolent answer to the
high priest; in Matthew and Mark, in spitting on the face (ἐνέπτυσαν
εἰς τὸ πρόσωπον αὐτοῦ), and blows on the head and cheek, to which it is
added, in Luke also, that he was blindfolded, then struck on the face,
and scoffingly asked to attest his messianic second sight by telling
who was the giver of the blow. [1889] According to Olshausen, the
spirit of prophecy did not scorn to predict these rudenesses in detail,
and at the same time to describe the state of mind which the Holy One
of God opposed to the unholy multitude. He correctly adduces in
relation to this scene Isa. l. 6 f.; (LXX.): I gave my back to the
smiters, and my cheeks to them that plucked off the hair: I hid not my
face from shame and spitting, etc., τὸν νῶτόν μου δέδωκα εἰς μάστιγας,
τὰς δὲ σιαγόνας μου εἰς ῥαπίσματα, τὸ δὲ πρόσωπόν μου οὐκ ἀπέστρεψα ἀπὸ
αἰσχύνης ἐμπτυσμάτων κ.τ.λ. (comp. Mic. iv. 14); and for the manner in
which Jesus bore all this, the well-known passage Isa. liii. 7, where
the servant of God is represented as enduring maltreatment in silence.
But the interpretation of these passages in Isaiah as prophecies
concerning the Messiah is equally opposed to the context in both
instances: [1890] consequently the agreement of the result with these
passages must either have been the effect of human design, or purely
accidental. Now it is certain that the servants and soldiers in their
maltreatment had not the intention of causing prophecies to be
fulfilled in Jesus; and it will hardly be chosen to suppose that Jesus
affected silence with this view; while to deduce from mere chance a
coincidence which certainly, as Olshausen says, extends to minutiæ, is
always unsatisfactory. Probable as it is from the rude manners of that
age, that Jesus was maltreated when a prisoner, and moreover that
amongst other things he received just such insults as are described by
the Evangelists: it is yet scarcely to be denied, that their
descriptions are modelled on prophecies which, when once Jesus appeared
as a sufferer and maltreated person, were applied to him; and however
consistent it may be with the character of Jesus that he should have
borne this maltreatment patiently, and repelled improper questions by a
dignified silence: the Evangelists would scarcely have noticed this so
often and so solicitously, [1891] if it had not been their intention
thus to exhibit the fulfilment of Old Testament oracles.

§ 129.

THE DENIAL OF PETER.

The two first Evangelists state, that at the moment in which Jesus was
led away from the garden, all the disciples forsook him and fled; but
in their accounts, as well as in those of Luke and John, Peter is said
to have followed him at a distance, and to have obtained admission with
the escort into the court of the high priest’s palace: while, according
to the synoptists, it is Peter alone who gives this proof of courage
and attachment to Jesus, which however soon enough issues in the
deepest humiliation for him; the fourth Evangelist gives him John for a
companion, and moreover represents the latter as the one who, by means
of his acquaintance with the high priest, procures admittance for Peter
into his palace; a divergency which, with the whole peculiar relation
in which this gospel places Peter with respect to John, has been
already considered. [1892]

According to all the Evangelists, it was in this court, αὐλὴ, that
Peter, intimidated by the inauspicious turn in the fortunes of Jesus,
and the high priest’s domestics by whom he was surrounded, sought to
allay the repeatedly expressed suspicion that he was one of the
followers of the arrested Galilean, by reiterated asseverations that he
knew him not. But, as we have already intimated, in relation to the
owner of this habitation, there exists an apparent divergency between
the fourth gospel and the synoptists. In John, to judge from the first
glance at his narrative, the first denial (xviii. 17) happens during
the trial before Annas, since it stands after the statement that Jesus
was led to Annas (v. 13), and before the verse in which he is said to
have been sent to Caiaphas (v. 24), and only the two further acts of
denial (v. 25–27), in so far as they follow the last-named statement,
and as immediately after them the delivery to Pilate is narrated (v.
28), appear in John also to have occurred during the trial before
Caiaphas and in his palace. But to this supposition of a different
locality for the first denial and the two subsequent ones, there is a
hindrance in the account of the fourth gospel itself. After the mention
of the first denial, which happened at the door of the palace (of Annas
apparently), it is said that the night being cold the servants and
officers had made a fire of coals, and Peter stood with them and warmed
himself, ἦν δὲ καὶ μετ’ αὐτῶν ὁ Πέτρος ἑστὼς καὶ θερμαινόμενος (v. 18).
Now, when farther on, the narrative of the second and third denial is
opened with nearly the same words: And Simon Peter stood and warmed
himself, ἦν δὲ Σίμων Πέτρος ἑστὼς καὶ θερμαινόμενος (v. 25): this
cannot be understood otherwise than as an allusion to the previously
noticed circumstances of the fire of coals, and of Peter’s standing by
it to warm himself, and hence it must be inferred that the Evangelist
intended to represent the second and third denial as having occurred by
the same fire, consequently, on the above supposition, likewise in the
house of Annas. It is true that the synoptists speak of a fire in the
court of the palace of Caiaphas also (Mark v. 54; Luke v. 55), at which
Peter warmed himself (here, however, sitting, as in John standing): but
it does not thence follow that John also imagined a similar fire to
have been in the court of the actual high priest, and according to the
supposition on which we have hitherto proceeded, he only mentions such
a fire in the house of Annas. They who regard as too artificial an
expedient the conjecture of Euthymius, that the dwellings of Annas and
Caiaphas perhaps had a common court, and that consequently Peter could
remain standing by the same fire after Jesus had been led away from the
former to the latter, prefer the supposition that the second and third
denial occurred, according to John, not after, but during the leading
away of Jesus from Annas to Caiaphas. [1893] Thus on the presupposition
that John narrates a trial before Annas, the difference between the
gospels in relation to the locality of the denial remains a total one;
and in this irreconcilable divergency, some have decided in favour of
John, on the ground that the scattered disciples had only fragmentary
information concerning this scene,—that Peter himself being a stranger
in Jerusalem did not know in which palace he had, to his misfortune,
entered; but that he, and after him the first Evangelists, supposed the
denials to have taken place in the court of Caiaphas; whereas John,
from his more intimate acquaintance with the city and the high priest’s
palace, was able to rectify this mistake. [1894] But even admitting the
incredible supposition that Peter erroneously believed himself to have
denied Jesus in the palace of Caiaphas, still John, who in these days
was in the society of Peter, would certainly at once have corrected his
assertion, so that such an erroneous opinion could not have become
fixed in his mind. Hence it might be preferred to reverse the attempt,
and to vindicate the synoptists at the expense of John: were it not
that the observations contained in the foregoing section (according to
which John, after having merely mentioned that Jesus was led away to
Annas, may speak from v. 15 of what occurred in the palace of
Caiaphas), present a possible solution of this contradiction also.

In relation to the separate acts of denial, all the Evangelists agree
in stating that there were three of them, in accordance with the
prediction of Jesus; but in the description of the several instances
they are at variance. First, as it regards place and persons; according
to John the first denial is uttered on the very entrance of Peter, to a
damsel that kept the door, παιδίσκη θυρωρός (v. 17); in the synoptists,
in the inner court, where Peter sat at the fire, to a damsel, παιδίσκη
(Matt. v. 69 f. parall.). The second takes place, in John (v. 25), and
also in Luke, who at least notices no change of position (v. 58), at
the fire: in Matthew (v. 71) and Mark (v. 68 ff.), after Peter was gone
out into the porch. πυλὼν, προαύλιον; further, in John it is made to
several persons; in Luke, to one; in Matthew to another damsel than the
one to whom he made the first denial; in Mark, to the same. The third
denial happened, according to Matthew and Mark, who mention no change
of place after the second, likewise in the porch; according to Luke and
John, since they likewise mention no change of place, undoubtedly still
in the inner court, at the fire; further, according to Matthew and
Mark, to many bystanders, according to Luke to one: according to John,
to one who happens to be a relative of the servant who had been wounded
in the garden. As regards the conversation which passed on this
occasion, the suspicious queries are at one time addressed to Peter
himself, at another to the bystanders, in order to point him out to
their observation, and in the two first instances they are given by the
different Evangelists with tolerable agreement, as merely expressing
the opinion that he appeared to be one of the adherents of the man
recently taken prisoner. But in the third instance, where the parties
render a motive for their suspicion, they according to the synoptists
mention his Galilean dialect as a proof of its truth; while in John the
relative of Malchus appeals to his recollection of having seen Peter in
the garden. Now the former mode of accounting for the suspicion is as
natural as the second, together with the designation of the individual
who adduced it as a relative of Malchus, appears artificial, and
fabricated for the sake of firmly interweaving into the narrative the
connexion of the sword-stroke given in the garden with the name of
Peter. [1895] In the answers of Peter there is the divergency, that
according to Matthew he already the second time fortifies his denial by
an oath, while according to Mark this is not the case until the third
denial, and in the two other Evangelists this circumstance is not
mentioned at all; moreover, Matthew, to preserve a gradation, adds on
the third denial that Peter began to curse καταναθεματίζειν as well as
to swear ὀμνύειν, a representation which when compared with the other
gospels may appear exaggerated.

So to adjust these very differently narrated denials in such a manner
that no Evangelist may be taxed with having given an incorrect or even
a merely inexact account, was no light labour for the harmonists. Not
only did the older, supranaturalistic expositors, such as Bengel,
undertake this task, but even recently, Paulus has given himself much
trouble to bring the various acts of denial recounted by the
Evangelists into appropriate order, and thus to show that they have a
natural sequence. According to him, Peter denies the Lord,

1. Before the portress (1st denial in John);

2. Before several standing at the fire (2nd in John);

3. Before a damsel at the fire (1st in the synoptists);

4. Before one who has no particular designation (2nd in Luke);

5. On going out into the porch, before a damsel (2nd in Matthew and
Mark. Out of this denial Paulus should in consistency have made
two, since the damsel, who points out Peter to the bystanders,
is according to Mark the same as the one in No. 3, but according
to Matthew another);

6. Before the relative of Malchus (3rd in John);

7. Before one who professes to detect him by his Galilean dialect
(3rd in Luke), and who forthwith

8. is seconded by several others, to whom Peter yet more strongly
affirms that he knows not Jesus (3rd in Matthew and Mark).

Meanwhile by such a discrimination of the accounts out of respect to
the veracity of the Evangelists, there was incurred the danger of
impeaching the yet more important veracity of Jesus; for he had spoken
of a threefold denial: whereas, on the plan of discrimination,
according to the more or less consequent manner in which it is carried
out, Peter would have denied Jesus from 6 to 9 times. The old exegesis
found help in the canon: abnegatio ad plures plurium interrogationes
facta uno paroxysmo, pro unâ numeratur. [1896] But even granting such a
mode of reckoning admissible, still, as each of the four narrators for
the most part notices a greater or less interval between the separate
denials which he recounts; in each instance, denials related by
different Evangelists, e.g. one narrated by Matthew, one by Mark, and
so forth, must have occurred in immediate succession: a supposition
altogether arbitrary. Hence of late it has been a more favourite
expedient to urge that the thrice τρὶς in the mouth of Jesus was only a
round number intended to express a repeated denial, as also that Peter,
once entangled in the confusion to a supposed necessity for falsehood,
would be more likely to repeat his asseverations to 6 or 7 than merely
to three inquirers. [1897] But even if, according to Luke (v. 59 f.),
the interval from the first denial to the last be estimated as more
than an hour, still such a questioning from all kinds of people on all
sides, as well as the ultimate impunity of Peter amid so general a
suspicion, is extremely improbable; and when expositors describe the
state of mind of Peter during this scene as a complete stupefaction,
[1898] they rather present the condition which befals the reader who
has to arrange his ideas in such a crowd of continually repeated
questions and answers having an identical meaning—like the incessant
and lawless beating of a watch out of order. Olshausen has justly
discarded the attempt to remove such differences as a fruitless labour:
nevertheless he, on the one hand, immediately proceeds to a forced
reconciliation of the divergencies at some points of the narrative; and
on the other, he maintains that there were precisely three denials,
whereas Paulus again has evinced a more correct discernment in pointing
out the premeditated effort of the Evangelists to show that the denial
was threefold. What on that evening happened repeatedly (not, however,
eight or nine times), was represented as having happened precisely
three times, in order to furnish the closest fulfilment to the
prediction of Jesus, which was understood in its strictest literality.

The termination, and as it were the catastrophe, of the whole history
of the denial is, in all the narratives, according to the prediction of
Jesus, introduced by the crowing of the cock. In Mark, it crows after
the first denial (v. 68), and then a second time after the third; in
the other Evangelists only once, after the last act of denial. While
John concludes his account with this particular, Matthew and Mark
proceed to tell us that on hearing the cock crow, Peter remembered the
words of Jesus and wept; but Luke has an additional feature peculiar to
himself, namely, that on the crowing of the cock Jesus turned and
looked at Peter, whereupon the latter, remembering the prediction of
Jesus, broke out into bitter weeping. Now according to the two first
Evangelists, Peter was not in the same locality with Jesus: for he is
said to have been without ἔξω (Matt v. 69) or beneath κάτω (Mark v. 66)
in the court ἐν τῇ αὐλῂ, and it is thus implied that Jesus was in an
inner or upper apartment of the palace: it must be asked, therefore,
how could Jesus hear the denial of Peter, and thereupon turn to look at
him? In relation to the latter part of the difficulty, the usual answer
is that Jesus was at that moment being led from the palace of Annas to
that of Caiaphas, and looked significantly at the weak disciple in
passing. [1899] But of such a removal of Jesus Luke knows nothing; and
his expression, the Lord turned and looked on Peter, καὶ στραφεὶς ὁ
Κύριος ἐνέβλεψε τῷ Πέτρῳ, would not so well imply that Jesus looked at
Peter in passing, as that he turned round to do so when standing;
besides, the above supposition will not explain how Jesus became aware
that his disciple had denied him, since in the tumult of this evening
he could not well, as Paulus thinks, have heard when in a room of the
palace the loud tones of Peter in the court. It is true that the
express distinction of the places in which Jesus and Peter were is not
found in Luke, and according to him Jesus also might have had to remain
some time in the court: but first, the representation of the other
Evangelists is here more probable: secondly, Luke’s own narrative of
the denial does not previously create the impression that Jesus was in
the immediate vicinity. But hypotheses for the explanation of that look
of Jesus might have been spared, had a critical glance been directed to
the origin of the incident. The unaccountable manner in which Jesus,
who in the whole previous occurrence is kept behind the scene, here all
on a sudden casts a glance upon it, ought itself, together with the
silence of the other Evangelists, to have been taken as an indication
of the real character of this feature in Luke’s narrative. When also it
is added, that as Jesus looked on Peter the latter remembered the words
which Jesus had earlier spoken to him concerning his coming denial; it
might have been observed that the glance of Jesus is nothing else than
the sensible image of Peter’s remorseful recollection. The narrative of
John, which is in this case the simplest, exhibits the fulfilment of
the prediction of Jesus objectively, by the crowing of the cock; the
two first Evangelists add to this the subjective impression, which this
coincidence made on Peter; while Luke renders this again objective, and
makes sorrowful remembrance of the words of the master, with the force
of a penetrating glance, pierce the inmost soul of the disciple. [1900]

§ 130.

THE DEATH OF THE BETRAYER.

On hearing that Jesus was condemned to death, Judas, according to the
first gospel (xxvii. 3 ff.), was smitten with remorse, and hastened to
the chief priests and elders to return to them the thirty pieces of
silver, with the declaration that he had betrayed an innocent person.
When however the latter scornfully retorted that on him alone rested
all responsibility for that deed, Judas, after casting down the money
in the temple, impelled by despair, went away and hanged himself.
Hereupon the Sanhedrists, holding it unlawful to put the money returned
by Judas into the treasury, since it was the price of blood, bought
with it a potter’s field as a burying place for strangers. To this
particular the Evangelist appends two remarks: first, that from this
mode of purchase, the piece of ground was called the field of blood up
to his time: and secondly, that by this course of things an ancient
prophecy was fulfilled.—The rest of the Evangelists are silent
concerning the end of Judas; but on the other hand we find in the Acts
of the Apostles (i. 16 ff.) some information on this subject which in
several points diverges from that of Matthew. Peter, when about to
propose the completion of the apostolic number by the choice of a new
colleague, thinks proper, by way of preliminary to remind his hearers
of the manner in which the vacancy in the apostolic circle had arisen,
i.e. of the treachery and the end of Judas; and in relation to the
latter he says, that the betrayer purchased himself a field with the
reward of his crime, but fell headlong, and burst asunder in the midst,
so that all his bowels gushed out, which being known in all Jerusalem,
the piece of ground was called ἀκελδαμὰ, i.e. the field of blood. In
addition to this, the narrator makes Peter observe that these
occurrences were a fulfilment of two passages in the Psalms.

Between these two accounts there exists a double divergency: the one
pertaining to the manner of the death of Judas, the other to the
statement when and by whom the piece of ground was bought. As regards
the former, Matthew declares that Judas laid violent hands on himself
out of remorse and despair: whereas in the Acts nothing is said of
remorse on the part of the traitor, and his death has not the
appearance of suicide, but of an accident, or more accurately, of a
calamity decreed by heaven as a punishment; further, in Matthew he
inflicts death on himself by the cord: according to the representation
of Peter, it is a fall which puts an end to his life by causing a
horrible rupture of the body.

How active the harmonists of all times have been in reconciling these
divergencies, may be seen in Suïcer [1901] and Kuinöl: here we need
only briefly adduce the principal expedients for this purpose. As the
divergency lay chiefly in the words ἀπήνξατο, he hanged himself, in
Matthew, and πρηνὴς γενόμενος, falling headlong, in Luke, the most
obvious resource was to see whether one of these expressions could not
be drawn to the side of the other. This has been tried with ἀπήνξατο in
various ways; this word being interpreted at one time as signifying
only the torments of a guilty conscience, [1902] at another, a disease
consequent on these, [1903] at another, any death chosen out of
melancholy and despair; [1904] and to this it has been thought that the
statement πρηνὴς γενόμενος κ.τ.λ. in the Acts added the more precise
information, that the kind of death to which Judas was driven by an
evil conscience and despair was precipitation from a steep eminence.
Others on the contrary have sought to accommodate the meaning of πρηνὴς
γενόμενος to ἀπήνξατο, understanding it merely to express as a
circumstance what ἀπήνξατο expresses as an act: and accordingly
maintaining that if the latter should be rendered se suspendit, the
former should be translated by suspensus. [1905] From repugnance to the
obvious violence of this attempt, others, sparing the natural meaning
of the expressions on both sides, have reconciled the divergent
accounts by the supposition that Matthew narrates an earlier, the
author of the Acts a later, stage of the events which marked the end of
Judas. Some of the ancient commentators indeed separated these two
stages so widely as to see in Matthew’s statement (ἀπήνξατο) only an
unsuccessful attempt at self-destruction, which from the bough whereon
he suspended himself having broken, or from some other cause, Judas
outlived, until the judgment of heaven overtook him in the πρηνὴς
γενόμενος, falling headlong. [1906] But since Matthew evidently intends
in his expression ἀπήνξατο to narrate the last moments of the traitor:
the two epochs, the account of which is supposed to be respectively
given by Matthew and the Acts, have in later times been placed in
closer proximity, and it has been held that Judas attempted to hang
himself to a tree on an eminence, but as the rope gave way or the
branch broke, he was precipitated into the valley over steep cliffs and
sharp bushes, which lacerated his body. [1907] The author of a treatise
on the fate of Judas in Schmidt’s Bibliothek [1908] has already
remarked as a surprising circumstance, how faithfully according to this
opinion, the two narrators have shared the information between them:
for it is not the case that one gives the less precise statement, the
other the more precise; but that one of them narrates precisely the
first part of the incident without touching on the second, the other,
the second without intruding on the first; and Hase justly maintains
that each narrator knew only the state of the fact which he has
presented, since otherwise he could not have omitted the other half.
[1909]

After thus witnessing the total failure of the attempts at
reconciliation in relation to the first difference; we have now to
inquire whether the other, relative to the acquisition of the piece of
ground, can be more easily adjusted. It consists in this: according to
Matthew, it is the members of the Sanhedrim who, after the suicide of
Judas, purchase a field with the money which he had left behind (from a
potter moreover—a particular which is wanting in the Acts); whereas,
according to the Acts, Judas himself purchases the piece of ground, and
on this very spot is overtaken by sudden death; and from this
difference there results another, namely, that according to the latter
account, it was the blood of the betrayer shed on the piece of ground,
according to the former, the blood of Jesus cleaving to the purchase
money, which caused the ground to be named the field of blood, ἀγρὸς or
χωρίον αἳματος. Now here Matthew’s manner of expressing himself is so
precise, that it cannot well be twisted so as to favour the other
narrative; but the word ἐκτήσατο (he purchased or acquired) in the Acts
presents inviting facilities for its adaptation to Matthew. By the
reward of treachery, Judas acquired a field—such, it is said, is the
meaning in the Acts—not immediately, but mediately; since by returning
the money he gave occasion for the purchase of a piece of ground; not
for himself, but for the Sanhedrim or the public good. [1910] But
however numerous the passages adduced in which κτᾶσθαι has the
signification: to acquire for another, still in such instances it is
necessary that the other party for whom one acquires should be
specified or intimated, and when this is not the case, as in the
passage in the Acts, it retains the original meaning: to acquire for
one’s self. [1911] This Paulus felt, and hence gave the facts the
following turn: the terrible fall of Judas into a lime pit was the
cause of this piece of ground being purchased by the Sanhedrim, and
thus Peter might very well say of Judas ironically, that in death by
the fall of his corpse he had appropriated to himself a fine property.
[1912] But in the first place this interpretation is in itself
strained; and in the second, the passage cited by Peter from the
Psalms: let his habitation be desolate, γενηθήτω ἡ ἔπαυλις αὐτοῦ
ἔρημος, shows that he thought of the piece of ground as the real
property of Judas, and as being judicially doomed to desolation as the
scene of his death.

According to this, neither the one difference nor the other admits of a
favourable reconciliation; indeed the existence of a real divergency
was admitted even by Salmasius, and Hase thinks that he can explain
this discrepancy, without endangering the apostolic origin of the two
statements, from the violent excitement of those days, in consequence
of which only the general fact that Judas committed suicide was
positively known, and concerning the more particular circumstances of
the event, various reports were believed. But in the Acts nothing is
said of suicide, and that two apostles, Matthew and Peter (if the first
gospel be supposed to proceed from the former, the discourse in the
Acts from the latter), should have remained so entirely in the dark
concerning the death of their late colleague, a death which took place
in their immediate vicinity, that one of them represented him as dying
by accident, the other voluntarily, is difficult to believe. That
therefore only one of the two accounts can be maintained as apostolic,
has been correctly perceived by the author of the above-mentioned
treatise in Schmidt’s Bibliothek. And in choosing between the two he
has proceeded on the principle that the narrative the least tending to
glorification is the more authentic; whence he gives the preference to
the account in the Acts before that in the first gospel, because the
former has not the glorifying circumstances of the remorse of Judas,
and his confession of the innocence of Jesus. But, it is ever the case
with two contradictory narratives, not only that if one stands it
excludes the other, but also that if one falls it shakes the other:
hence, if the representation of the facts which is attested by the
authority of the Apostle Matthew be renounced, there is no longer any
warrant for the other, which professedly rests on the testimony of the
Apostle Peter.

If then we are to treat the two narratives on the same footing, namely
as legends, with respect to which it is first to be discovered how far
their historical nucleus extends, and how far they consist of
traditional deposits; we must, in order to be clear on the subject,
consider the data which form the roots of the two narratives. Here we
find one which is common to both, with two others of which each has one
peculiarly to itself. The datum common to both narratives is, that
there was in Jerusalem a piece of ground which was called the field of
blood, ἀγρὸς or χωρίον αἵματος, or in the original tongue, according to
the statement of the Acts, ἀκελδαμὰ. As this information is
concurrently given by two narratives in other respects totally
divergent, and as, besides, the author of the first gospel appeals to
the actual practice of his day in proof that the field was called by
this name: we cannot well doubt the existence of a piece of ground so
named. That it really had a relation to the betrayer of Jesus is less
certain, since our two narratives give different accounts of this
relation: the one stating that Judas himself bought the property, the
other that it was not purchased until after his death, with the thirty
pieces of silver. We can therefore draw no further conclusion than that
the primitive Christian legend must have early attributed to that field
of blood a relation to the betrayer. But the reason wherefore this
relation took various forms is to be sought in the other datum from
which our narratives proceed, namely, in the Old Testament passages,
which the authors cite (from different sources, however), as being
fulfilled by the fate of Judas.

In the passage of the Acts, Ps. lxix. 25, and Ps. cix. 8, are quoted in
this manner. The latter is a psalm which the first Christians from
among the Jews could not avoid referring to the relation of Judas to
Jesus. For not only does the author, alleged to be David, but doubtless
a much later individual, [1913] dilate from the opening of the psalm on
such as speak falsely and insidiously against him, and return him
hatred for his love, but from v. 6, where the curses commence, he
directs himself against a particular person, so that the Jewish
expositors thought of Doeg, David’s calumniator with Saul, and the
Christians just as naturally of Judas. From this psalm is gathered the
verse which, treating of the transfer of one office to another,
appeared perfectly to suit the case of Judas. The other psalm, it is
true, speaks more vaguely of such as hate and persecute the author
without cause, yet this also is ascribed to David, and is so similar to
the other in purport and style, that it might be regarded as its
parallel, and if curses might be applied to the betrayer out of the
former, they might be so out of the latter. [1914] Now if Judas had
actually bought with the wages of his treachery a piece of land, which
from being the scene of his horrible end, subsequently remained waste:
it was a matter of course to refer to him precisely those passages in
this psalm which denounce on the enemies the desolation of their
habitation ἔπαυλις. As, however, from the divergency of Matthew, the
fact that Judas himself bought that piece of ground and came to his end
upon it, is doubtful: while it can scarcely be supposed that the piece
of land on which the betrayer of Jesus met his end would be so
abhorrent to the Jews that they would let it lie waste as a land of
blood; it is more probable that this name had another origin no longer
to be discovered, and was interpreted by the Christians in accordance
with their own ideas; so that we must not derive the application of the
passage in the Psalms, and the naming of that waste piece of land, from
an actual possession of it by Judas, but on the contrary, we must refer
to those two causes the existence of the legend, which ascribes such a
possession to Judas. For if the two psalms in question were once
applied to the betrayer, and if in one of them the desolation of his
ἔπαυλις (LXX.) was denounced, he must have previously been in
possession of such an ἔπαυλις, and this it was thought, he would
probably have purchased with the reward of his treason. Or rather, that
out of the above psalms the desolation of the ἔπαυλις was a particular
specially chosen, appears to have been founded on the natural
presupposition, that the curse would be chiefly manifested in relation
to something which he had acquired by the wages of his iniquity; added
to the circumstance that among the objects anathematized in the psalm,
the one most capable of being bought was the ἔπαυλις. This conception
of the facts was met in the most felicitous manner by the ἀκελδαμὰ
lying near Jerusalem, which, the less was known of the origin of its
name and of the horror attached to it, might the more easily be applied
by the primitive Christian legend to its own purposes, and regarded as
the desolate habitation, ἔπαυλις ἠρημωμένη, of the betrayer.

Instead of these passages from the Psalms, the first gospel cites as
being fulfilled by the last acts of Judas, a passage which it
attributes to Jeremiah, but to which nothing corresponding is to be
found except in Zech. xi. 12 f., whence it is now pretty generally
admitted that the Evangelist substituted one name for the other by
mistake. [1915] How Matthew might be led by the fundamental idea of
this passage—an unreasonably small price for the speaker in the
prophecy—to an application of it to the treachery of Judas, who for a
paltry sum had as it were sold his master, has been already shown.
[1916] Now the prophetic passage contains a command from Jehovah to the
author of the prophecy, to cast the miserable sum with which he had
been paid, into the house of the Lord, and also ‏אֶל־הַיוֹצֵר‎, which, it
is added, was done. The person who casts down the money is in the
prophecy the same with the speaker, and consequently with him who is
rated at the low price, because the sum here is not purchase money but
hire, and hence is received by the person so meanly estimated, who
alone can cast it away again: in the application of the Evangelist, on
the contrary, the sum being considered as purchase money, another than
the one so meanly estimated was to be thought of as receiving and
casting away the sum. If the one sold for so paltry a price was Jesus:
he who received the money and finally rejected it could be no other
than his betrayer. Hence it is said of the latter, that he cast down
the pieces of silver in the temple ἐν τῷ ναῷ corresponding to the
phrase ‏וַאַשְׁלִיךְ אֹתוֹ בֵּית יְהוָֹה‎ in the prophetic passage, although these
very words happen to be absent from the extremely mutilated citation of
Matthew. But in apposition to the ‏בֵּית יְהוָֹה‎, wherein the money was
cast, there stood besides ‏אֶל־הַיוֹצֵר‎. The LXX. translates: εἰς τὸ
χωνευτήριον, into the melting furnace; now, it is with reason
conjectured that the pointing should be altered thus: ‏אֶל־הַיוֹצָר‎, and
the word rendered: into the treasury; [1917] the author of our gospel
adhered to the literal translation by κεραμεύς potter. But what the
potter had to do here,—why the money should be given to him, must at
first have been as incomprehensible to him as it is to us when we
adhere to the common reading. Here however there occurred to his
recollection the field of blood, to which, as we gather from the Acts,
the Christian legend gave a relation to Judas, and hence resulted the
welcome combination, that it was probably that field for which the
thirty pieces of silver were to be given to the potter. As, however, it
was impossible to conceive the potter as being in the temple when
receiving the money, and yet according to the prophetic passage the
pieces of silver were cast into the temple: a separation was made
between the casting into the temple and the payment to the potter. If
the former must be ascribed to Judas, if he had thus once cast away the
money, he himself could no longer purchase the piece of ground from the
potter, but this must be done by another party, with the money which
Judas had cast away. Who this party must be followed of course: if
Judas gave up the money, he would give it up to those from whom he had
received it; if he cast it into the temple, it would fall into the
hands of the rulers of the temple: thus in both ways it would revert to
the Sanhedrim. The object of the latter in purchasing the ground was
perhaps drawn from the use to which that waste place was actually
appropriated. Lastly, if Judas cast away again the reward of his
treachery, this, it must be inferred, could only be out of remorse. To
make Judas manifest remorse, and thus win from the traitor himself a
testimony to the innocence of Jesus, was as natural to the conception
of the primitive Christian community, as to convert Pilate, and to make
Tiberius himself propose in the Roman senate the deification of Christ.
[1918] But how would the remorse of Judas further manifest itself? A
return to the right on his part, was not only unattested by any facts,
but was besides far too good a lot for the traitor: hence repentance
must have become in him despair, and he must have chosen the end of the
well-known traitor in the history of David, Ahithophel, of whom it is
said, 2 Sam. xvii. 23: ἀνέστη καὶ ἀπῆλθεν—καὶ ἀπήνξατο, he arose, and
went—and hanged himself, as of Judas here: ἀνεχώρησε καὶ ἀπηλθὼν
ἀπήνξατο, he departed, and went and hanged himself.

A tradition referred to Papias appears to be allied to the narrative in
the Acts rather than to that of Matthew. Œcumenius, quoting the above
collector of traditions, says, that Judas, as an awful example of
impiety, had his body distended to such a degree, that a space where a
chariot could pass was no longer sufficiently wide for him, and that at
last being crushed by a chariot, he burst asunder and all his bowels
were pressed out. [1919] The latter statement doubtless arose from a
misconstruction of the ancient legend; for the chariot was not
originally brought into immediate contact with the body of Judas, but
was merely used as a measure of his size, and this was afterwards
erroneously understood as if a chariot in passing had crushed the
swollen body of Judas. Hence, not only in Theophylact and in an ancient
Scholium, [1920] without any distinct reference to Papias, but also in
a Catena with an express citation of his εξηγήσεις, we actually find
the fact narrated without that addition. [1921] The monstrous swelling
of Judas, spoken of in this passage, might, it is supposed, originally
be only an explanation of the displacing and protrusion of the viscera,
and in like manner the dropsy into which Theophylact represents him as
falling might be regarded as an explanation of this swelling: when,
however, in Ps. cix., applied in the Acts to Judas, amongst other
maledictions, we read: ‏וַתָּבֹא (קְלָלָה) כַּמַּיִם בְּקִרְבּוֹ‎ LXX: εἰσῆλθεν (ἡ
κατάρα) ὡσεὶ ὕδωρ εἰς τὰ ἔνκατα αὐτοῦ, so let it (cursing) come into
his bowels like water (v. 18): it appears possible that the dropsical
disease, νόσος ὑδερικὴ, may have been also taken from this passage; as
also one of the features in the monstrous description which Papias
gives of the condition of Judas, namely, that from the enormous
swelling of his eyelids he could no longer see the light of day, might
remind us of v. 23 in the other psalm applied to Judas, where, among
the curses this is enumerated: Let their eyes be darkened that they see
not, σκοτισθήτωσαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοὶ αὐτῶν τοῦ μὴ βλέπειν, a hindrance to
sight, which when once the swollen body of Judas was presupposed, must
necessarily assume the form of a swelling up of the eyelids. If then
the tradition which is allied to the account in Acts i. developed its
idea of the end of Judas chiefly in correspondence with the ideas
presented in these two psalms; and if in that passage of the Acts
itself the account of the connexion of Judas with the piece of ground
is derived from the same source: it is no farfetched conjecture that
what is said in the Acts concerning the end of the betrayer may have
had a similar origin. That he died an early death may be historical;
but even if not so, in Psalm cix. in the very same verse (v. 8), which
contains the transfer of the office, ἐπισκοπὴ, to another, an early
death is predicted for the betrayer in the words: Let his days be few,
γενηθήτωσαν αἱ ἡμέραι αὐτοῦ ὀλίγαι, and it might also be believed that
the death by falling headlong also was gathered from Ps. lxix. 22,
where it is said: Let their table become a snare before them, γενηθήτω
ἡ τράπεζα αὐτῶν—εἰς σκάνδαλον (‏לִמוֹקֵשׁ‎).

Thus we scarcely know with certainty concerning Judas even so much as
that he came to a violent and untimely death, for if, as was natural,
after his departure from the community of Jesus, he retired, so far as
the knowledge of its members was concerned, into an obscurity in which
all historical information as to his further fate was extinguished: the
primitive Christian legend might without hindrance represent as being
fulfilled in him all that the prophecies and types of the Old Testament
threatened to the false friend of the Son of David, and might even
associate the memory of his crime with a well-known desecrated place in
the vicinity of Jerusalem. [1922]

§ 131.

JESUS BEFORE PILATE AND HEROD.

According to all the Evangelists it was in the morning when the Jewish
magistrates, after having declared Jesus worthy of death, [1923] caused
him to be led away to the Roman procurator, Pontius Pilate (Matt.
xxvii. 1 ff. parall.; John xviii. 28). According to Matthew and Mark,
Jesus was bound preparatory to his being conducted before Pilate,
according to John xviii. 12, immediately on his arrest in the garden;
Luke says nothing of his being bound. To this measure of sending him to
Pilate they were compelled, according to John xviii. 31, by the
circumstance that the Sanhedrim was deprived of the authority to
execute the punishment of death (without the concurrence of the Roman
government): [1924] but at all events the Jewish rulers must in this
instance have been anxious to call in the agency of the Romans, since
only their power could afford security against an uproar among the
people θόρυβος ἐν τῷ λαῷ, which the former feared as a result of the
execution of Jesus during the feast time (Matt. xxvi. 5 parall.).

Arrived at the Prætorium, the Jews, according to the representation of
the fourth gospel, remained without, from fear of Levitical defilement,
but Jesus was led into the interior of the building: so that Pilate
must alternately have come out when he would speak to the Jews, and
have gone in again when he proceeded to question Jesus (xviii. 28 ff.).
The synoptists in the sequel represent Jesus as in the same locality
with Pilate and the Jews, for in them Jesus immediately hears the
accusations of the Jews, and answers them in the presence of Pilate.
Since they, as well as John, make the condemnation take place in the
open air (after the condemnation they represent Jesus as being led into
the Prætorium, Matt. xxvii. 27, and Matthew, like John, xix. 13,
describes Pilate ascending the judgment seat βῆμα, which according to
Josephus [1925] stood in the open air), without mentioning any change
of place in connexion with the trial: they apparently conceived the
whole transaction to have passed on the outer place, and supposed, in
divergency from John, that Jesus himself was there.

The first question of Pilate to Jesus is according to all the gospels:
Art thou the king of the Jews? σὺ εἶ ὁ βασιλεύς τῶν Ἰουδαίων, i.e. the
Messiah? In the two first Evangelists this question is not introduced
by any accusation on the part of the Jews (Matt. v. 11; Mark v. 2); in
John, Pilate, stepping out of the Prætorium, asks the Jews what
accusation they have to bring against Jesus (xviii. 29), on which they
insolently reply: If he were not a malefactor, we would not have
delivered him up unto thee: an answer by which they could not expect to
facilitate their obtaining from the Roman a ratification of their
sentence, [1926] but only to embitter him. After Pilate, with
surprising mildness, has rejoined that they may take him and judge him
according to their law—apparently not supposing a crime involving
death—and the Jews have opposed to this permission their inability to
administer the punishment of death: the procurator re-enters and
addresses to Jesus the definite question: Art thou the king of the
Jews? which thus here likewise has no suitable introduction. This is
the case only in Luke, who first adduces the accusations of the
Sanhedrists against Jesus, that he stirred up the people and encouraged
them to refuse tribute to Cæsar, giving himself out to be Christ a
king, Χριστὸν βασιλέα (xxiii. 2).

If in this manner the narrative of Luke enables us to understand how
Pilate could at once put to Jesus the question whether he were the king
of the Jews; it leaves us in all the greater darkness as to how Pilate,
immediately on the affirmative answer of Jesus, could without any
further inquiries declare to the accusers that he found no fault in the
accused. He must first have ascertained the grounds or the want of
grounds for the charge of exciting the populace, and also have informed
himself as to the sense in which Jesus claimed the title of king of the
Jews, before he could pronounce the words: I find no fault in this man.
In Matthew and Mark, it is true, to the affirmation of Jesus that he is
the king of the Jews is added his silence, in opposition to the
manifold accusations of the Sanhedrists—a silence which surprises
Pilate: and this is not followed by a precise declaration that no fault
is to be found in Jesus, but merely by the procurator’s attempt to set
Jesus at liberty by coupling him with Barabbas; still what should move
him even to this attempt does not appear from the above gospels. On the
other hand, this point is sufficiently clear in the fourth gospel. It
is certainly surprising that when Pilate asks whether he be really the
King of the Jews, Jesus should reply by the counter-question, whether
he say this of himself or at the suggestion of another. In an accused
person, however conscious of innocence, such a question cannot be held
warrantable, and hence it has been sought in every possible way to give
the words of Jesus a sense more consonant with propriety: but the
question of Jesus is too definite to be a mere repulse of the
accusation as absurd, [1927] and too indefinite to be regarded as an
inquiry, whether the Procurator intended the title βασιλεὺς τῶν
Ἰουδαίων in the Roman sense (ἀφ’ ἑαυτοῦ) or in the Jewish (ἄλλοι σοι
εἶπον). [1928] And Pilate does not so understand it, but as an
unwarrantable question to which it is a mark of his indulgence that he
replies;—in the first instance, it is true, with some impatience, by
the second counter-question, whether he be a Jew, and thus able of
himself to have information concerning a crime so specifically Jewish;
but hereupon he good-naturedly adds that it is the Jews and their
rulers by whom Jesus has been delivered to him, and that he is
therefore at liberty to speak more particularly of the crime which
these lay to his charge. Now on this Jesus gives Pilate an answer
which, added to the impression of his whole appearance, might certainly
induce in the Procurator a conviction of his innocence. He replies,
namely, that his kingdom βασιλεία is not of this world ἐκ τοῦ κόσμου
τούτου, and adduces as a proof of this, the peaceful, passive conduct
of his adherents on his arrest (v. 36). On the further question of
Pilate, whether, since Jesus has thus ascribed to himself a kingdom,
although no earthly one, he then claims to be a king? he replies that
certainly he is so, but only in so far as he is born to be a witness to
the truth: whereupon follows the famous question of Pilate: What is
truth? τί ἐστιν ἀλήθεια; Although in this latter reply of Jesus we
cannot but be struck by its presenting the peculiar hue of thought
which characterizes the author of the fourth gospel, in the use of the
idea of truth ἀλήθεια, as we were before surprised at the unwarrantable
nature of the counter-question of Jesus; still this account in John
renders it conceivable how Pilate could immediately step forth and
declare to the Jews that he found no fault in Jesus. But another point
might easily create suspicion against this narrative of John. According
to him the trial of Jesus went forward in the interior of the
Prætorium, which no Jew would venture to enter; who then are we to
suppose heard the conversation of the Procurator with Jesus, and was
the informant who communicated it to the author of the fourth gospel?
The opinion of the older commentators that Jesus himself narrated these
conversations to his disciples after the resurrection is renounced as
extravagant; the more modern idea that perhaps Pilate himself was the
source of the information concerning the trial, is scarcely less
improbable, and rather than take refuge, with Lücke, in the supposition
that Jesus remained at the entrance of the Prætorium, so that those
standing immediately without might with some attention and stillness
(?) have heard the conversation, I should prefer appealing to the
attendants of the Procurator, who would scarcely be alone with Jesus.
Meanwhile it is easily conceivable that we have here a conversation,
which owes its origin solely to the Evangelist’s own combination, and
in this case we need not bestow so much labour in ascertaining the
precise sense of Pilate’s question: what is truth? since this would
only be an example of the fourth Evangelist’s favourite form of
dialogue, the contrast of profound communications on the part of Jesus,
with questions either of misapprehension or of total unintelligence on
the part of the hearers, as xii. 34, the Jews ask who is this Son of
man? τίς ἐστιν οὗτος ὁ υἱὸς τ. α.? so here Pilate: what is truth? τί
ἐστιν ἀλήθεια? [1929]

Before the introduction of Barabbas, which in all the other Evangelists
comes next in order, Luke has an episode peculiar to himself. On the
declaration of Pilate that he finds no guilt in the accused, the chief
priests and their adherents among the multitude persist in asserting
that Jesus stirred up the people by his agency as a teacher from
Galilee to Jerusalem: Pilate notices the word Galilee, asks whether the
accused be a Galilean, and when this is confirmed, he seizes it as a
welcome pretext for ridding himself of the ungrateful business, and
sends Jesus to the Tetrarch of Galilee, Herod Antipas, at that time in
Jerusalem in observance of the feast; perhaps also designing as a
secondary object, what at least was the result, to conciliate the petty
prince by this show of respect for his jurisdiction. This measure, it
is said, gave great satisfaction to Herod, because having heard much of
Jesus, he had long been desirous to see him, in the hope that he would
perhaps perform a miracle. The Tetrarch addressed various questions to
him, the Sanhedrists urged vehement accusations against him, but Jesus
gave no answer; whereupon Herod with his soldiers betook themselves to
mockery, and at length, after arraying him in a gorgeous robe, sent him
back to Pilate (xxiii. 4 ff.). This narrative of Luke’s, whether we
consider it in itself or in its relation to the other gospels, has much
to astonish us. If Jesus as a Galilean really belonged to the
jurisdiction of Herod, as Pilate, by delivering the accused to him,
appears to acknowledge: how came Jesus (and the question is equally
difficult whether we regard him as the sinless Jesus of the orthodox
system, or as the one who in the history of the tribute-penny
manifested his subjection to the existing authorities) to withhold from
him the answer which was his due? and how was it that Herod, without
any further procedures, sent him away again from his tribunal? To say,
with Olshausen, that the interrogation before Herod had elicited the
fact that Jesus was not born in Nazareth and Galilee, but in Bethlehem,
and consequently in Judæa, is on the one hand an inadmissible appeal to
the history of the birth of Jesus, of the statements in which there is
no further trace in the whole subsequent course of Luke’s gospel; and
on the other hand, a totally accidental birth in Judæa, such as that
represented by Luke, the parents of Jesus, and even Jesus himself,
being both before and after resident in Galilee, would not have
constituted Jesus a Judæan; but above all we must ask, through whom was
the Judæan origin of Jesus brought to light, since it is said of Jesus
that he gave no answer, while according to all the information we
possess, that origin was totally unknown to the Jews? It would be
preferable to explain the silence of Jesus by the unbecoming manner of
Herod’s interrogation, which manifested, not the seriousness of the
judge, but mere curiosity; and to account for his being sent back to
Pilate by the fact, that not only the arrest, but also a part of the
ministry of Jesus had occurred within the jurisdiction of Pilate. But
why do the rest of the Evangelists say nothing of the entire episode?
Especially when the author of the fourth gospel is regarded as the
Apostle John, it is not easy to see how this omission can be explained.
The common plea, that he supposed the fact sufficiently known from the
synoptists, will not serve here, since Luke is the sole Evangelist who
narrates the incident, and thus it does not appear to have been very
widely spread; the conjecture, that it may probably have appeared to
him too unimportant, [1930] loses all foundation when it is considered
that John does not scorn to mention the leading away to Annas, which
nevertheless was equally indecisive; and in general, the narrative of
these events in John is, as Schleiermacher himself confesses, so
consecutive that it nowhere presents a break in which such an episode
could be inserted. Hence even Schleiermacher at last takes refuge in
the conjecture that possibly the sending to Herod may have escaped the
notice of John, because it happened on an opposite side to that on
which the disciple stood, through a back door; and that it came to the
knowledge of Luke because his informant had an acquaintance in the
household of Herod, as John had in that of Annas: the former
conjecture, however, is figuratively as well as literally nothing more
than a back door; the latter, a fiction which is but the effort of
despair. Certainly if we renounce the presupposition that the author of
the fourth gospel was an apostle, we lose the ground of attack against
the narrative of Luke, which in any case, since Justin knows of the
consignment to Herod, [1931] is of very early origin. Nevertheless,
first, the silence of the other Evangelists in a portion of their
common history, in which, with this exception, there prevails an
agreement as to the principal stages in the development of the fate of
Jesus; and secondly, the internal difficulties of the narrative, remain
so suspicious, that it must still be open to us to conjecture, that the
anecdote arose out of the effort to place Jesus before all the
tribunals that could possibly be gathered together in Jerusalem; to
make every authority not hierarchical, though treating him with
ignominy, still either explicitly or tacitly acknowledge his innocence;
and to represent him as maintaining his equable demeanour and dignity
before all. If this be probable with respect to the present narrative,
in which the third Evangelist stands alone, a similar conjecture
concerning the leading away to Annas, in which we have seen that the
fourth Evangelist stands alone, would only be warded off by the
circumstance that this scene is not described in detail, and hence
presents no internal difficulties.

After Jesus, being sent back by Herod, was returned upon his hands,
Pilate, according to Luke, once more called together the Sanhedrists
and the people, and declared, alleging in his support the judgment of
Herod as accordant with his own, his wish to dismiss Jesus with
chastisement; for which purpose he might avail himself of the custom of
releasing a prisoner at the feast of the passover. [1932] This
circumstance, which is somewhat abridged in Luke, is more fully
exhibited in the other Evangelists, especially in Matthew. As the
privilege to entreat the release of a prisoner belonged to the people,
Pilate, well knowing that Jesus was persecuted by the rulers out of
jealousy, sought to turn to his advantage the better disposition of the
people towards him; and in order virtually to oblige them to free
Jesus, whom, partly out of mockery of the Jews, partly to deter them
from his execution as degrading to themselves, he named the Messiah or
King of the Jews, he reminded them that their choice lay between him
and a notable prisoner, δέσμιος ἐπίσημος, Barabbas, [1933] whom John
designates as a robber, λῃστής, but Mark and Luke as one who was
imprisoned for insurrection and murder. This plan however failed, for
the people, suborned, as the two first Evangelists observe, by their
rulers, with one voice desired the release of Barabbas and the
crucifixion of Jesus.

As a circumstance which had especial weight with Pilate in favour of
Jesus, and moved him to make the proposal relative to Barabbas as
urgently as possible, it is stated by Matthew that while the procurator
sat on his tribunal, his wife, [1934] in consequence of a disturbing
dream, sent to him a warning to incur no responsibility in relation to
that just man (xxvii. 19). Not only Paulus, but even Olshausen,
explains this dream as a natural result of what Pilate’s wife might
have heard of Jesus and of his capture on the preceding evening; to
which may be added as an explanatory conjecture, the notice of the
Evangelium Nicodemi, that she was pious, θεοσεβὴς, and judaizing,
ἰουδαΐζουσα. [1935] Nevertheless, as constantly in the New Testament,
and particularly in the Gospel of Matthew, dreams are regarded as a
special dispensation from heaven, so this assuredly in the opinion of
the narrator happened non sine numine; and hence it should be possible
to conceive a motive and an object for the dispensation. If the dream
were really intended to prevent the death of Jesus, taking the orthodox
point of view, in which this death was necessary for the salvation of
man, we must be led to the opinion of some of the ancients, that it may
have been the devil who suggested that dream to the wife of the
procurator, in order to hinder the propitiatory death; [1936] if on the
contrary, the dream were not intended to prevent the death of Jesus,
its object must have been limited to Pilate or his wife. But as far as
Pilate was concerned, so late a warning could only aggravate his guilt,
without sufficing to deter him from the step already half taken; while
that his wife was converted by means of this dream, as many have
supposed, [1937] is totally unattested by history or tradition, and
such an object is not intimated in the narrative. But, as the part
which Pilate himself plays in the evangelical narrative is such as to
exhibit the blind hatred of the fellow-countrymen of Jesus in contrast
with the impartial judgment of a Gentile; so his wife is made to render
a testimony to Jesus, in order that, not only out of the mouth of babes
and sucklings (Matt. xxi. 16), but also out of the mouth of a weak
woman, praise might be prepared for him; and to increase its importance
it is traced to a significant dream. To give this an appearance of
probability, similar instances are adduced from profane history of
dreams which have acted as presentiments and warnings before a
sanguinary catastrophe: [1938] but the more numerous are these
analogous cases, the more is the suspicion excited that as the majority
of these, so also the dream in our evangelical passage, may have been
fabricated after the event, for the sake of heightening its tragical
effect.

When the Jews, in reply to the repeated questions of Pilate, vehemently
and obstinately demand the release of Barabbas and the crucifixion of
Jesus, the two intermediate Evangelists represent him as at once
yielding to their desire; but Matthew first interposes a ceremony and a
colloquy (xxvii. 24 ff.). According to him Pilate calls for water,
washes his hands before the people, and declares himself innocent of
the blood of this just man. The washing of the hands, as a protestation
of purity from the guilt of shedding blood, was a custom specifically
Jewish, according to Deut. xxi. 6 f. [1939] It has been thought
improbable that the Roman should have here intentionally imitated this
Jewish custom, and hence it has been contended, that to any one who
wished so solemnly to declare his innocence nothing would more readily
suggest itself than the act of washing the hands. [1940] But that an
individual, apart from any allusion to a known usage, should invent
extemporaneously a symbolical act, or even that he should merely fall
in with the custom of a foreign nation, would require him to be deeply
interested in the fact which he intends to symbolize. That Pilate,
however, should be deeply interested in attesting his innocence of the
execution of Jesus, is not so probable as that the Christians should
have been deeply interested in thus gaining a testimony to the
innocence of their Messiah: whence there arises a suspicion that
perhaps Pilate’s act of washing his hands owes its origin to them
alone. This conjecture is confirmed, when we consider the declaration
with which Pilate accompanies his symbolical act: I am innocent of the
blood of this just man, ἀθῶός εἰμι ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος τοῦ δικαίου τούτου.
For that the judge should publicly and emphatically designate as a just
man, δίκαιος, one whom he was nevertheless delivering over to the
severest infliction of the law,—this even Paulus finds so contradictory
that he here, contrary to his usual mode of exposition, supposes that
the narrator himself expresses in these words his own interpretation of
Pilate’s symbolical act. It is surprising that he is not also struck by
the equal improbability of the answer which is attributed to the Jews
on this occasion. After Pilate has declared himself guiltless of the
blood of Jesus, and by the addition: see ye to it, has laid the
responsibility on the Jews, it is said in Matthew that all the people
πᾶς ὁ λαὸς, cried: His blood be on us and on our children, τὸ αἷμα
αὐτοῦ ἐφ’ ἡμᾶς καὶ τὰ τέκνα ἡμῶν. But this is obviously spoken from the
point of view of the Christians, who in the miseries which shortly
after the death of Jesus fell with continually increasing weight on the
Jewish nation, saw nothing else than the payment of the debt of blood
which they had incurred by the crucifixion of Jesus: so that this whole
episode, which is peculiar to the first gospel, is in the highest
degree suspicious.

According to Matthew and Mark, Pilate now caused Jesus to be scourged,
preparatory to his being led away to crucifixion. Here the scourging
appears to correspond to the virgis cædere, which according to Roman
usage preceded the securi percutere, and to the scourging of slaves
prior to crucifixion. [1941] In Luke it has a totally different
character. While in the two former Evangelists it is said: When he had
scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified, τὸν δὲ Ἰ. φραγελλώσας
παρέδωκεν ἵνα σταυρωθῇ: in Luke, Pilate repeatedly (v. 16 and 22) makes
the proposal: having chastised him I will let him go, παιδεύσας αὐτὸν
ἀπολύσω: i.e. while there the scourging has the appearance of a mere
accessory of the crucifixion, here it appears to be intended as a
substitute for the crucifixion: Pilate wishes by this chastisement to
appease the hatred of the enemies of Jesus, and induce them to desist
from demanding his execution. Again, while in Luke the scourging does
not actually take place,—because the Jews will in nowise accede to the
repeated proposal of Pilate: in John the latter causes Jesus to be
scourged, exhibits him to the people with the purple robe and the crown
of thorns and tries whether his pitiable aspect, together with the
repeated declaration of his innocence, will not mollify their
embittered minds: this, however, proving also in vain (xix. 1 ff.).
Thus there exists a contradiction between the Evangelists in relation
to the scourging of Jesus, which is not to be conciliated after the
method of Paulus, namely by paraphrasing the words τὸν Ἰ. φραγελλώσας
παρέδοκεν ἵνα σταυρωθῇ in Matthew and Mark thus: Jesus, whom he had
already before scourged in order to save him, suffered this in vain,
since he was still delivered over to crucifixion. But, acknowledging
the difference in the accounts, we must only ask, which of the two has
the advantage as regards historical probability? Although it is
certainly not to be proved that scourging before crucifixion was a
Roman custom admitting no exception: still, on the other hand, it is a
purely harmonistic effort to allege, that scourging was only made to
precede crucifixion in cases where the punishment was intended to be
particularly severe, [1942] and that consequently Pilate, who had no
wish to be cruel to Jesus, can only have caused him to be scourged with
the special design which Luke and John mention, and which is also to be
understood in the narratives of their predecessors. It is far more
probable that in reality the scourging only took place as it is
described by the two first Evangelists, namely, as an introduction to
the crucifixion, and that the Christian legend (to which that side of
Pilate’s character, in virtue of which he endeavoured in various ways
to save Jesus, was particularly welcome as a testimony against the
Jews) gave such a turn even to the fact of the scourging as to obtain
from it a new attempt at release on the part of Pilate. This use of the
fact is only incipient in the third gospel, for here the scourging is a
mere proposal of Pilate: whereas in the fourth, the scourging actually
takes place, and becomes an additional act in the drama.

With the scourging is connected in the two first gospels and the
fourth, the maltreatment and mockery of Jesus by the soldiers, who
attired him in a purple robe, placed a crown of thorns on his head,
[1943] put, according to Matthew, a reed in his hand, and in this
disguise first greeted him as King of the Jews, and then smote and
maltreated him. [1944] Luke does not mention any derision on the part
of the soldiers here, but he has something similar in his narrative of
the interrogation of Jesus before Herod, for he represents this prince
with his men of war, σύν τοῖς στρατεύμασιν αὐτοῦ, as mocking Jesus, and
sending him back to Pilate in a gorgeous robe, ἐσθὴς λαμπρά. Many
suppose that this was the same purple robe which was afterwards put on
Jesus by the soldiers of Pilate; but it must rather have been thrice
that Jesus had to wear this disguise, if we take the narrative of John
into the account and at the same time refuse to attribute error to any
of the synoptists: first in the presence of Herod (Luke); secondly,
before Pilate brought Jesus forth to the Jews, that he might excite
their compassion with the words: Behold the man, ἴδε ὁ ἄνθρωπος (John);
thirdly, after he was delivered to the soldiers for crucifixion
(Matthew and Mark). This repetition is as improbable as it is probable
that the one disguising of Jesus, which had come to the knowledge of
the Evangelists, was assigned by them to different places and times,
and ascribed to different persons.

While in the two first gospels the process of trial is already
concluded before the scourging, and in the third, on the rejection of
his proposal to scourge and release Jesus by the Jews, Pilate forthwith
delivers him to be crucified: in the fourth Evangelist the scene of the
trial is further developed in the following manner. When even the
exhibition of Jesus scourged and disguised avails nothing, but his
crucifixion is obstinately demanded, the procurator is incensed, and
cries to the Jews, that they may take him and crucify him themselves,
for he finds no fault in him. The Jews reply that according to their
law he must die, since he had made himself the Son of God υἱὸς θεοῦ; a
remark which affects Pilate with a superstitious fear, whence he once
more leads Jesus into the Prætorium, and inquires concerning his origin
(whether it be really heavenly), on which Jesus gives him no answer,
and when the procurator seeks to alarm him by reminding him of the
power which he possesses over his life, refers to the higher source
from whence he had this power. Pilate, after this reply, seeks (yet
more earnestly than before) to release Jesus; but at last the Jews hit
upon the right means of making him accede to their will, by throwing
out the intimation that, if he release Jesus who has opposed himself to
Cæsar as an usurper, he cannot be Cæsar’s friend. Thus, intimidated by
the possibility of his being calumniated to Tiberius, he mounts the
tribunal, and, since he cannot prosecute his will, betakes himself to
derision of the Jews in the question, whether they then wish that he
should crucify their king? Whereupon they, keeping to the position
which they had last taken with such evident effect, protest that they
will have no king but Cæsar. The procurator now consents to deliver
Jesus to be crucified, for which purpose, as the two first Evangelists
remark, the purple mantle was removed, and he was again attired in his
own clothes.

§ 132.

THE CRUCIFIXION.

Even concerning the progress of Jesus to the place of crucifixion there
is a divergency between the synoptists and John, for according to the
latter Jesus himself carried his cross thither (xix. 17), while the
former state that one Simon a Cyrenian bore it in his stead (Matt.
xxvii. 32 parall.). The commentators indeed, as if a real agreement
were assumed as a matter of course, reconcile these statements thus: at
first Jesus himself endeavoured to bear the cross, but as the attempt
made it obvious that he was too much exhausted, it was laid on Simon.
[1945] But when John says: And he bearing his cross went forth
into—Golgotha, where they crucified him, καὶ βαστάζων τὸν σταυρὸν αὑτοῦ
ἐξῆλθεν εἰς—Γολγοθᾶ· ὅπου αὐτὸν ἐσταύρωσαν: he plainly presupposes that
the cross was borne by Jesus on the way thither. [1946] But the
statement so unanimously given by the synoptists respecting the
substitution of Simon appears the less capable of being rejected, the
more difficult it is to discover a motive which might lead to its
fabrication. On the contrary, this individual trait might very probably
have remained unknown in the circle in which the fourth gospel had its
origin, and the author might have thought that, according to the
general custom, Jesus must have carried his cross. All the synoptists
designate this Simon as a Cyrenian, i.e. probably one who had come to
Jerusalem to the feast, from the Libyan city of Cyrene, where many Jews
resided. [1947] According to all, the carrying of the cross was forced
upon him, a circumstance which can as little be urged for as against
the opinion that he was favourable to Jesus. [1948] According to Luke
and Mark, the man came directly out of the country, ἀπ’ ἀγροῦ, and as
he attempted to pass by the crowd advancing to the place of
crucifixion, he was made use of to relieve Jesus. Mark designates him
yet more particularly as the father of Alexander and Rufus, who appear
to have been noted persons in the primitive church (comp. Rom. xvi. 13;
Acts xix. 33 (?); 1 Tim. i. 20 (?); 2 Tim. iv. 14 (?)). [1949]

On the way to the place of execution, according to Luke, there followed
Jesus, lamenting him, a great company, consisting especially of women,
whom he however admonished to weep rather for themselves and their
children, in prospect of the terrible time, which would soon come upon
them (xxiii. 27 ff.). The details are taken partly from the discourse
on the second advent, Luke xxi. 23; for as there it is said, Οὐαὶ δὲ
ταῖς ἐν γαστρὶ ἐχούσαις, καὶ ταῖς θηλαζούσαις, ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς
ἡμέραις, so here Jesus says, that the days are coming in which αἱ
στεῖραι, καὶ κοιλίαι αἳ οὐκ ἐγέννησαν, καὶ μαστοὶ οἳ οὐκ ἐθήλασαν, will
be pronounced blessed; partly from Hosea x. 8, for the words τότε
ἄρξονται λέγειν τοῖς ὄρεσι κ.τ.λ. (then shall they begin to say to the
mountains, etc.) are almost exactly the Alexandrian translation of that
passage.

The place of execution is named by all the Evangelists Golgotha, the
Chaldaic ‏גֻּלְגָּלְתָּא‎, and they all interpret this designation by κρανίου
τόπος the place of a skull, or κρανίον a skull (Matt. v. 33 parall.).
From the latter name it might appear that the place was so called
because it resembled a skull in form; whereas the former
interpretation, and indeed the nature of the case, renders it probable
that it owed its name to its destination as a place of execution, and
to the bones and skulls of the executed which were heaped up there.
Where this place was situated is not known, but doubtless it was out of
the city; even that it was a hill, is a mere conjecture. [1950]

The course of events after the arrival at the place of execution is
narrated by Matthew (v. 34 ff.) in a somewhat singular order. First, he
mentions the beverage offered to Jesus; next, he says that after they
had nailed him to the cross, the soldiers shared his clothes among
them; then, that they sat down and watched him; after this he notices
the superscription on the cross, and at length, and not as if supplying
a previous omission, but with a particle expressive of succession in
time (τότε), the fact that two thieves were crucified with him. Mark
follows Matthew, except that instead of the statement about the
watching of the cross, he has a determination of the time at which
Jesus was crucified: while Luke more correctly relates first the
crucifixion of the two malefactors with Jesus, and then the casting of
lots for the clothes; and the same order is observed by John. But it is
inadmissible on this account to transpose the verses in Matthew (34,
37, 38, 35, 36), as has been proposed; [1951] and we must rather
abandon the author of the first gospel to the charge, that in his
anxiety not to omit any of the chief events at the crucifixion of
Jesus, he has neglected the natural order of time. [1952]

As regards the mode of the crucifixion there is now scarcely any
debated point, if we except the question, whether the feet as well as
the hands were nailed to the cross. As it lay in the interest of the
orthodox view to prove the affirmative: so it was equally important to
the rationalistic system to maintain the negative. From Justin Martyr
[1953] down to Hengstenberg [1954] and Olshausen, the orthodox find in
the nailing of the feet of Jesus to the cross a fulfilment of the
prophecy Ps. xxii. 17, which the LXX. translates: ὤρυξαν χεῖράς μου καὶ
πόδας, but it is doubtful whether the original text really speaks of
piercing, and in no case does it allude to crucifixion: moreover the
passage is nowhere applied to Christ in the New Testament. To the
rationalists, on the contrary, it is at once more easy to explain the
death of Jesus as a merely apparent death, and only possible to
conceive how he could walk immediately after the resurrection, when it
is supposed that his feet were left unwounded; but the case should
rather be stated thus: if the historical evidence go to prove that the
feet also of Jesus were nailed, it must be concluded that the
resuscitation and the power of walking shortly after, either happened
supernaturally or not at all. Of late there have stood opposed to each
other two learned and profound investigations of this point, the one by
Paulus against, the other by Bähr, in favour of—the nailing of the
feet. [1955] From the evangelical narrative, the former opinion can
principally allege in its support, that neither is the above passage in
the Psalms anywhere used by the Evangelists, though on the
presupposition of a nailing of the feet it was so entirely suited to
their mode of accounting for facts, nor in the history of the
resurrection is there any mention of wounds in the feet, together with
the wounds in the hands and side (John xx. 20, 25, 27). The other
opinion appeals not without reason to Luke xxiv. 39, where Jesus
invites the disciples to behold his hands and his feet (ἴδετε τὰς
χεῖράς μου καὶ τοὺς πόδας μου): it is certainly not here said that the
feet were pierced, but it is difficult to understand how Jesus should
have pointed out his feet merely to produce a conviction of the reality
of his body. The fact that among the fathers of the church, those who,
living before Constantine, might be acquainted with the mode of
crucifixion from personal observation, as Justin and Tertullian,
suppose the feet of Jesus to have been nailed, is of weight. It might
indeed be concluded from the remark of the latter: Qui (Christus) solus
a populo tam insigniter crucifixus est, [1956] that for the sake of the
passage in the Psalms these fathers supposed that in the crucifixion of
Christ his feet also were pierced by way of exception; but, as
Tertullian had before called the piercing of the hands and feet the
propria atrocia crucis, it is plain that the above words imply, not a
special manner of crucifixion, but the special manner of death by
crucifixion, which does not occur in the Old Testament, and by which
therefore Jesus was distinguished from all the characters therein
celebrated. Among the passages in profane writers, the most important
is that of Plautus, in which, to mark a crucifixion as extraordinarily
severe, it is said: offigantur bis pedes, bis brachia. [1957] Here the
question is: does the extraordinary feature lie in the bis, so that the
nailing of the feet as well as of the hands only once is presupposed as
the ordinary usage; or was the bis offigere of the hands, i.e. the
nailing of both the hands, the usual practice, and the nailing of the
feet an extraordinary aggravation of the punishment? Every one will
pronounce the former alternative to be the most accordant with the
words. Hence it appears to me at present, that the balance of
historical evidence is on the side of those who maintain that the feet
as well as the hands of Jesus were nailed to the cross.

It was before the crucifixion, according to the two first Evangelists,
that there was offered to Jesus a beverage, which Matthew (v. 34)
describes as vinegar mingled with gall, ὄξος μετὰ χολης μεμιγμένον,
Mark (v. 23) as wine mingled with myrrh, ἐσμυρνισμένον οἶνον, but
which, according to both, Jesus (Matthew says, after having tasted it)
refused to accept. As it is not understood with what object gall could
be mixed with the vinegar, the χολη of Matthew is usually explained, by
the aid of the ἐσμυρνισμένον of Mark, as implying bitter vegetable
ingredients, especially myrrh; and then either οἰνον wine is actually
substituted for ὄχος vinegar, or the latter is understood as sour wine;
[1958] in order that the beverage offered to Jesus may thus appear to
have been the stupefying draught consisting of wine and strong spices,
which, according to Jewish usage, was presented to those about to be
executed, for the purpose of blunting their susceptibility to pain.
[1959] But even if the text admitted of this reading, and the words of
this interpretation, Matthew would assuredly protest strongly against
the real gall and the vinegar being thus explained away from his
narrative, because by this means he would lose the fulfilment of the
passage in the psalm of lamentation elsewhere used messianically:
(LXX.) καὶ ἔδωκαν εἰς τὸ βρῶμά μου χολην, καὶ εἰς τὴν δίψαν μου
ἐπότισάν με ὄχος, they gave me also gall for my meat, and in my thirst
they gave me vinegar to drink (Ps. lxix. 21). Matthew incontestably
means, in accordance with this prophecy, real gall with vinegar, and
the comparison with Mark is only calculated to suggest the question,
whether it be more probable that Mark presents the incident in its
original form, which Matthew has remodelled into a closer accordance
with the prophecy; or that Matthew originally drew the particular from
the passage in the Psalm, and that Mark so modified it as to give it an
appearance of greater historical probability?

In order to come to a decision on this question we must take the two
other Evangelists into consideration. The presentation to Jesus of a
drink mingled with vinegar is mentioned by all four, and even the two
who have the vinegar mingled with gall, or the myrrhed wine, as the
first drink offered to Jesus, mention afterwards the offering of simple
vinegar. According to Luke, this offering of vinegar ὄξος προσφέρειν,
was an act of derision committed by the soldiers not very long after
the crucifixion, and before the commencement of the darkness (v. 36
f.); according to Mark, shortly before the end, three hours after the
darkness came on, one of the bystanders, on hearing the cry of Jesus:
my God, my God, etc., presented vinegar to him, likewise in derision,
by means of a sponge fixed on a reed (v. 36); according to Matthew, one
of the bystanders, on the same cry, and in the same manner, presented
vinegar to him, but with a benevolent intention, as we gather from the
circumstance that the scoffers wished to deter him from the act (v. 48
f.); [1960] whereas in John it is on the exclamation: I thirst, that
some fill a sponge with vinegar from a vessel standing near, and raise
it on a stem of hyssop to the mouth of Jesus (v. 29). Hence it has been
supposed that there were three separate attempts to give a beverage to
Jesus: the first before the crucifixion, with the stupefying drink
(Matthew and Mark); the second after the crucifixion, when the soldiers
in mockery offered him some of their ordinary beverage, a mixture of
vinegar and water called posca [1961] (Luke); and the third, on the
complaining cry of Jesus (Matt., Mark and John). [1962] But if the
principle of considering every divergent narrative as a separate event
be once admitted, it must be consistently carried out: if the beverage
mentioned by Luke must be distinguished from that of Matthew and Mark
on account of a difference in the time, then must that of Matthew be
distinguished from that of Mark on account of the difference in the
design; and, again, the beverage mentioned by John must not be regarded
as the same with that of the two first synoptists, since it follows a
totally different exclamation. Thus we should obtain in all five
instances in which a drink was offered to Jesus, and we should at least
be at a loss to understand why Jesus after vinegar had already been
thrice presented to his lips, should yet a fourth time have desired to
drink. If then we must resort to simplification, it is by no means only
the beverage in the two first gospels, and that in the fourth, which,
on account of the agreement in the time and manner of presentation, are
to be understood as one; but also that of Mark (and through this the
others) must be pronounced identical with that of Luke, on account of
their being alike offered in derision. Thus there remain two instances
of a drink being offered to Jesus, the one before the crucifixion, the
other after; and both have a presumptive support from history, the
former in the Jewish custom of giving a stupefying draught to persons
about to be executed, the other in the Roman custom, according to which
the soldiers on their expeditions,—and the completing an execution was
considered as such,—were in the habit of taking with them their posca.
But together with this possible historical root, there is a possible
prophetic one in Ps. lxix., and the two have an opposite influence: the
latter excites a suspicion that the narrative may not have anything
historical at its foundation; the former throws doubt on the
explanation that the whole story has been spun out of the prophecies.

On once more glancing over the various narratives, we shall at least
find that their divergencies are precisely of a nature to have arisen
from a various application of the passage in the Psalms. The eating of
gall and the drinking of vinegar being there spoken of, it appears as
if in the first instance the former particular had been set aside as
inconceivable, and the fulfilment of the prophecy found in the
circumstance (very possibly historical, since it is mentioned by all
the four Evangelists), that Jesus had vinegar presented to him when on
the cross. This might either be regarded as an act of compassion, as by
Matthew and John, or of mockery, with Mark and Luke. In this manner the
words: they gave me vinegar to drink, ἐπότισάν με ὄξος, were indeed
literally fulfilled, but not the preceding phrase: in my thirst, εἰς
τὴν δίψαν μου; hence the author of the fourth gospel might think it
probable that Jesus actually complained of thirst, i.e. cried, I
thirst, διψῶ, an exclamation, which he expressly designates as a
fulfilment of the scripture, γραφὴ, by which we are doubtless to
understand the above passage in the Psalms (comp. Ps. xxii. 16); nay,
since he introduces the ἵνα τελειωθῇ ἡ γραφὴ, that the scripture might
be fulfilled, by εἰδὼς ὁ Ἰησοῦς, ὅτι πάντα ἤδη τετέλεσται, Jesus,
knowing that all things were now accomplished, he almost appears to
mean that the fulfilment of the prophecy was the sole object of Jesus
in uttering that exclamation: but a man suspended on the cross in the
agonies of death is not the one to occupy himself with such typological
trifling—this is only the part of his biographer who finds himself in
perfect ease. Even this addition, however, only showed the fulfilment
of one half of the messianic verse, that relating to the vinegar: there
still remained what was said of the gall, which, as the concentration
of all bitterness, was peculiarly adapted to be placed in relation to
the suffering Messiah. It is true that the presentation of the gall,
χολὴ, as meat, βρῶμα, which the prophecy strictly taken required, was
still suppressed as inconceivable: but it appeared to the first
Evangelist, or to the authority which he here follows, quite
practicable to introduce the gall as an ingredient in the vinegar, a
mixture which Jesus might certainly be unable to drink, from its
unpalatableness. More concerned about historical probability than
prophetic connexion, the second Evangelist, with reference to a Jewish
custom, and perhaps in accordance with historical fact, converted the
vinegar mingled with gall, into wine mingled with myrrh, and made Jesus
reject this, doubtless from a wish to avoid stupefaction. As however
the narrative of the vinegar mingled with gall reached these two
Evangelists in company with the original one of the presentation of
simple vinegar to Jesus; they were unwilling that this should be
excluded by the former, and hence placed the two side by side. But in
making these observations, as has been before remarked, it is not
intended to deny that such a beverage may have been offered to Jesus
before the crucifixion, and afterwards vinegar also, since the former
was apparently customary, and the latter, from the thirst which
tormented the crucified, natural: it is merely intended to show, that
the Evangelists do not narrate this circumstance, and under such
various forms, because they knew historically that it occurred in this
or that manner, but because they were convinced dogmatically that it
must have occurred according to the above prophecy, which however they
applied in different ways. [1963]

During or immediately after the crucifixion Luke represents Jesus as
saying: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do (v. 34);
an intercession which is by some limited to the soldiers who crucified
him, [1964] by others, extended to the real authors of his death, the
Sanhedrists and Pilate. [1965] However accordant such a prayer may be
with the principles concerning love to enemies elsewhere inculcated by
Jesus (Matt. v. 44), and however great the internal probability of
Luke’s statement viewed in this light: still it is to be observed,
especially as he stands alone in giving this particular, that it may
possibly have been taken from the reputed messianic chapter, Isa.
liii., where in the last verse, the same from which the words: he was
numbered with the transgressors, μετὰ ἀνόμων ἐλογίσθη are borrowed, it
is said: ‏וְלַפּשְׁעִים יַפְנִּיעַ‎ (he made intercession for the transgressors),
which the LXX. erroneously translate διὰ τὰς ἀνομίας αὐτῶν παρεδόθη, he
was delivered for their transgressions, but which already the Targum
Jonathan renders by pro peccatis (it should be peccatoribus) deprecatus
est.

All the Evangelists agree in stating that two malefactors δύο κακοῦργοι
(Matthew and Mark call them λῃστὰς thieves) were crucified, one on each
side of Jesus; and Mark, if his 28th verse be genuine, sees in this a
literal fulfilment of the words: he was numbered with the
transgressors, which, according to Luke xxii. 37, Jesus had the evening
before quoted as a prophecy about to be accomplished in him. Of the
further demeanour of these fellow-sufferers, John says nothing; the two
first Evangelists represent them as reviling Jesus (Matt. xxvii. 44;
Mark xv. 32): whereas Luke narrates that only one of them was guilty of
this offence, and that he was rebuked by the other (xxiii. 39 ff.). In
order to reconcile this difference, commentators have advanced the
supposition, that at first both criminals reviled Jesus, but that
subsequently one of them was converted by the marvellous darkness;
[1966] more modern ones have resorted to the supposition of an enallage
numeri: [1967] but without doubt those only are right who admit a real
difference between Luke and his predecessors. [1968] It is plain that
the two first Evangelists knew nothing of the more precise details
which Luke presents concerning the relation of the two malefactors to
Jesus. He narrates, namely, that when one of them derided Jesus by
calling upon him, if he were the Messiah, to deliver himself and them,
the other earnestly rebuked such mockery of one with whom he was
sharing a like fate, and moreover as a guilty one with the guiltless,
entreating for his own part that Jesus would remember him when he
should come into his kingdom βασιλεία: whereupon Jesus gave him the
promise that he should that very day be with him in Paradise ἐν τῷ
παραδείσῳ. In this scene there is nothing to create difficulty, until
we come to the words which the second malefactor addresses to Jesus.
For to expect from one suspended on the cross a future coming to
establish the messianic kingdom, would presuppose the conception of the
whole system of a dying Messiah, which before the resurrection the
apostles themselves could not comprehend, and which therefore,
according to the above representation of Luke, a thief must have been
beforehand with them in embracing. This is so improbable, that it
cannot excite surprise to find many regarding the conversion of the
thief on the cross as a miracle, [1969] and the supposition which
commentators call in to their aid, namely, that the man was no common
criminal, but a political one, perhaps concerned in the insurrection of
Barabbas, [1970] only serves to render the incident still more
inconceivable. For if he was an Israelite inclined to rebellion, and
bent on liberating his nation from the Roman yoke, his idea of the
Messiah was assuredly the most incompatible with the acknowledgment as
such, of one so completely annihilated in a political view, as Jesus
then was. Hence we are led to the question, whether we have here a real
history and not rather a creation of the legend? Two malefactors were
crucified with Jesus: thus much was indubitably presented by history
(or did even this owe its origin to the prophecy, Isa. liii. 12?). At
first they were suspended by the side of Jesus as mute figures, and
thus we find them in the narrative of the fourth Evangelist, into whose
region of tradition only the simple statement, that they were crucified
with Jesus, had penetrated. But it was not possible for the legend long
to rest contented with so slight a use of them: it opened their mouths,
and as only insults were reported to have proceeded from the
bystanders, the two malefactors were at first made to join in the
general derision of Jesus, without any more particular account being
given of their words (Matt. and Mark). But the malefactors admitted of
a still better use. If Pilate had borne witness in favour of Jesus; if
shortly after, a Roman centurion—nay, all nature by its miraculous
convulsions—had attested his exalted character: so his two
fellow-sufferers, although criminals, could not remain entirely
impervious to the impression of his greatness, but, though one of them
did indeed revile Jesus agreeably to the original form of the legend,
the other must have expressed an opposite state of feeling, and have
shown faith in Jesus as the Messiah (Luke). The address of the latter
to Jesus and his answer are besides conceived entirely in the spirit of
Jewish thought and expression; for according to the idea then
prevalent, paradise was that part of the nether world which was to
harbour the souls of the pious in the interval between their death and
the resurrection: a place in paradise and a favourable remembrance in
the future age were the object of the Israelite’s petition, to God, as
here to the Messiah; [1971] and it was believed concerning a man
distinguished for piety that he could conduct those who were present at
the hour of his death into paradise. [1972]

To the cross of Jesus was affixed, according to the Roman custom,
[1973] a superscription ἐπιγραφὴ (Mark and Luke), or a title τίτλος
(John) which contained his accusation τὴν αἰτίαν αὐτοῦ (Matthew and
Mark), consisting according to all the Evangelists in the words: ὁ
βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων, the King of the Jews. Luke and John state that
this superscription was couched in three different tongues, and the
latter informs us that the Jewish rulers were fully alive to the
derision which this form of superscription reflected on their nation,
and on this account entreated Pilate, but in vain, for an alteration of
the terms (v. 21 f.).

Of the soldiers, according to John four in number, who crucified Jesus,
the Evangelists unanimously relate that they parted the clothes of
Jesus among themselves by lot. According to the Roman law de bonis
damnatorum [1974] the vestments of the executed fell as spolia to the
executioners, and in so far that statement of the Evangelists has a
point of contact with history. But, like most of the features in this
last scene of the life of Jesus, it has also a point of contact with
prophecy. It is true that in Matthew the quotation of the passage Ps.
xxii. 18 is doubtless an interpolation; but on the other hand the same
quotation is undoubtedly genuine in John (xix. 24): ἵνα ἡ γραφὴ πληρωθῇ
ἡ λέγουσα· (verbally after the LXX.) διεμερίσαντο τὰ ἱμάτιά μου
ἐαυτοῖς, καὶ ἐπὶ τὸν ἱματισμόν μου ἔβαλον κλῆρον, that the scripture
might be fulfilled which saith, They parted my raiment among them, and
for my vesture they did cast lots. Here also, according to the
assertion of orthodox expositors, David the author of the psalm, under
divine guidance, in the moments of inspiration chose such figurative
expressions as had a literal fulfilment in Christ. [1975] Rather we
must say, David, or whoever else may have been the author of the psalm,
as a man of poetical imagination used those expressions as mere
metaphors to denote a total defeat; but the petty, prosaic spirit of
Jewish interpretation, which the Evangelists shared without any fault
of theirs, and from which orthodox theologians, by their own fault
however, have not perfectly liberated themselves after the lapse of
eighteen centuries, led to the belief that those words must be
understood literally, and in this sense must be shown to be fulfilled
in the Messiah. Whether the Evangelists drew the circumstance of the
casting of lots for the clothes more from historical information which
stood at their command, or from the prophetic passage which they
variously interpreted, must be decided by a comparison of their
narratives. These present the divergency, that while according to the
synoptists all the clothes were parted by lot, as is evident from the
words: διεμερίσαντο τὰ ἱμάτια αὐτοῦ, βάλλοντες κλῆρον, they parted his
garments, casting lots, in Matthew (v. 35), and the similar turn of
expression in Luke (v. 34), but still more decidedly from the addition
of Mark: τίς τί ἄρη, what every man should take (v. 24): in John it is
the coat or tunic, χιτὼν, alone for which lots are cast, the other
garments being parted equally (v. 23 f.). This divergency is commonly
thought of much too lightly, and is tacitly treated as if the
synoptical representation were related to that of John as the
indefinite to the definite. Kuinöl in consideration of John translates
the words διεμερίζαντο βάλλοντες of Matthew thus: partim dividebant,
partim in sortem conjiciebant: but the meaning is not to be thus
distributed, for the διεμερίζαντο, they parted, states what they did,
the βάλλοντες κλῆρον, casting lots, how they did it: besides Kuinöl
passes in total silence over the words τίς τί ἄρη, because they
undeniably imply that lots were cast for several articles: while
according to John the lots had reference only to one garment. If it be
now asked, which of the two contradictory narratives is the correct
one, the answer given from the point of view to which the comparative
criticism of the gospels has at present attained is, that the
eye-witness John gives the correct particulars, but the synoptists had
merely received the indefinite information, that in parting the clothes
of Jesus the soldiers made use of the lot, and this, from
unacquaintance with the more minute particulars, they understood as if
lots had been cast for all the garments of Jesus. [1976] But not only
does the circumstance that it is John alone who expressly cites the
passage in the Psalms prove that he had an especial view to that
passage: but, in general, this divergency of the Evangelists is
precisely what might be expected from a difference in the
interpretation of that supposed prophecy. When the psalm speaks of the
parting of the garments and a casting of lots for the vesture: the
second particular is, according to the genius of the Hebrew language
which abounds in parallelism, only a more precise definition of the
first, and the synoptists, correctly understanding this, make one of
the two verbs a participle. One however who did not bear in mind this
peculiarity of the Hebrew style, or had an interest in exhibiting the
second feature of the prophecy as specially fulfilled, might understand
the and, which in reality was indicative only of more precise
definition, as denoting addition, and thus regard the casting of lots
and the distribution as separate acts. Then the ἱματισμὸς (‏לְבוּשׁ‎)
which was originally a synonyme of ἱμάτια (‏בְּגָדִים‎) must become a
distinct garment, the closer particularization of which, since it was
not in any way conveyed in the word itself, was left to choice. The
fourth Evangelist determined it to be the χιτὼν, tunic, and because he
believed it due to his readers to show some cause for a mode of
procedure with respect to this garment, so different from the equal
distribution of the others, he intimated that the reason why it was
chosen to cast lots for the tunic rather than to divide it, probably
was that it had no seam (ἄῤῥαφος) which might render separation easy,
but was woven in one piece (ὑφαντὸς δι’ ὅλου). [1977] Thus we should
have in the fourth Evangelist exactly the same procedure as we have
found on the side of the first, in the history of the entrance into
Jerusalem: in both cases the doubling of a trait originally single,
owing to a false interpretation of the ‏ו‎ in the Hebrew parallelism;
the only difference being that the first Evangelist in the passage
referred to is less arbitrary than the fourth is here, for he at least
spares us the tracing out of the reason why two asses must then have
been required for one rider. The more evident it thus becomes that the
representation of the point in question in the different Evangelists is
dependent on the manner in which each interpreted that supposed
prophecy in the Psalms: the less does a sure historical knowledge
appear to have had any share in their representation, and hence we
remain ignorant whether lots were cast on the distribution of the
clothes of Jesus, nay whether in general a distribution of clothes took
place under the cross of Jesus; confidently as Justin appeals in
support of this very particular to the Acts of Pilate, which he had
never seen. [1978]

Of the conduct of the Jews who were present at the crucifixion of
Jesus, John tells us nothing; Luke represents the people as standing to
look on, and only the rulers ἄρχοντες and the soldiers as deriding
Jesus by the summons to save himself if he were the Messiah, to which
the latter adds the offer of the vinegar (v. 35 ff.); Matthew and Mark
have nothing here of mockery on the part of the soldiers, but in
compensation they make not only the chief priests, scribes, and elders,
but also the passers by, παραπορευόμενοι, vent insults against Jesus
(v. 39 ff., 29 ff.). The expressions of these people partly refer to
former discourses and actions of Jesus; thus, the sarcasm: Thou that
destroyest the temple and buildest it again in three days, save thyself
(Matt. and Mark), is an allusion to the words of that tenor ascribed to
Jesus; while the reproach: he saved others, himself he cannot save, or
save thyself (in all three), refers to his cures. Partly however the
conduct of the Jews towards Jesus on the cross, is depicted after the
same psalm of which Tertullian justly says that it contains totam
Christi passionem. [1979] When it is said in Matthew and Mark: And they
that passed by reviled him, wagging their heads and saying: οἱ δὲ
παραπορευόμενοι ἐβλασφήμουν αὐτὸν, κινοῦντες τὰς κεφαλὰς αὑτῶν καὶ
λέγοντες· (Luke says of the rulers ἄρχοντες they derided him
ἐξεμυκτήριζον), this is certainly nothing else than a mere reproduction
of what stands in Ps. xxii. 8 (LXX.): All they that see me laugh me to
scorn, they shoot out the lip and shake the head: πάντες οἱ θεωροῦντές
με ἐξεμυκτήρισάν με, ἐλάλησαν ἐν χείλεσιν, ἐκίνησαν κεφαλὴν; and the
words which are hereupon lent to the Sanhedrists in Matthew: He trusted
in God; let him deliver him now if he will have him, πέποιθεν ἐπὶ τὸν
θεὸν, ῥυσάσθω νῦν αὐτὸν, εἰ θέλει αὐτὸν, are the same with those of the
following verse in that Psalm: He trusted in the Lord that he would
deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him, ἤλπισεν
ἐπὶ Κύριον, ῥυσάσθω αὐτόν· σωσάτω αὐτὸν, ὅτι θέλει αὐτόν. Now though
the taunts and shaking of the head on the part of the enemies of Jesus
may, notwithstanding that the description of them is drawn according to
the above Old Testament passage, still very probably have really
happened: it is quite otherwise with the words which are attributed to
these mockers. Words which, like those above quoted, are in the Old
Testament put into the mouth of the enemies of the godly, could not be
adopted by the Sanhedrists without their voluntarily assuming the
character of the ungodly: which they would surely have taken care to
avoid. Only the Christian legend, if it once applied the Psalm to the
sufferings of Jesus, and especially to his last hours, could attribute
these words to the Jewish rulers, and find therein the fulfilment of a
prophecy.

The two first Evangelists do not tell us that any one of the twelve was
present at the crucifixion of Jesus: they mention merely several
Galilean women, three of whom they particularize: namely, Mary
Magdalene; Mary the mother of James the Less and of Joses; and, as the
third, according to Matthew, the mother of the sons of Zebedee,
according to Mark, Salome, both which designations are commonly
understood to relate to the same person (Matt. v. 55 f.; Mark v. 40
f.): according to these Evangelists the twelve appear not yet to have
reassembled after their flight on the arrest of Jesus. [1980] In Luke,
on the contrary, among all his acquaintance, πάντες οἱ γνωστοὶ αὐτοῦ,
whom he represents as beholding the crucifixion (v. 49) the twelve
would seem to be included: but the fourth gospel expressly singles out
from among the disciples the one whom Jesus loved, i.e. John, as
present, and among the women, together with Mary Magdalene and the wife
of Cleopas, names instead of the mother of James and John, the mother
of Jesus himself. Moreover, while according to all the other accounts
the acquaintances of Jesus stood afar off, μακρόθεν, according to the
fourth gospel John and the mother of Jesus must have been in the
closest proximity to the cross, since it represents Jesus as addressing
them from the cross, and appointing John to be his substitute in the
filial relation to his mother (v. 25 ff.). Olshausen believes that he
can remove the contradiction which exists between the synoptical
statement and the presupposition of the fourth gospel as to the
position of the friends of Jesus, by the conjecture that at first they
did indeed stand at a distance, but that subsequently some approached
near to the cross: it is to be observed, however, in opposition to
this, that the synoptists mention that position of the adherents of
Jesus just at the close of the scene of crucifixion and death,
immediately before the taking down from the cross, and thus presuppose
that they had retained this position until the end of the scene; a
state of the case which cannot but be held entirely consistent with the
alarm which filled the minds of the disciples during those days, and
still more with feminine timidity. If the heroism of a nearer approach
might perhaps be expected from maternal tenderness: still, the total
silence of the synoptists, as the interpreters of the common
evangelical tradition, renders the historical reality of that
particular doubtful. The synoptists cannot have known anything of the
presence of the mother of Jesus at the cross, otherwise they would have
mentioned her as the chief person, before all the other women; nor does
anything appear to have been known of a more intimate relation between
her and John: at least in the Acts (i. 12 f.) the mother of Jesus is
supposed to be with the twelve in general, his brothers, and the women
of the society. It is at least not so easy to understand how the memory
of that affecting presence and remarkable relation could be lost, as to
conceive how the idea of them might originate in the circle from which
the fourth gospel proceeded. If this circle be imagined as one in which
the Apostle John enjoyed peculiar veneration, on which account our
gospel drew him out of the trio of the more confidential associates of
Jesus, and isolated him as the beloved disciple: it will appear that
nothing could be more strikingly adapted to confirm this relation than
the statement that Jesus bequeathed, as it were, the dearest legacy,
his mother (in reference to whom, as well as to the alleged beloved
disciple, it must have been a natural question, whether she had left
the side of Jesus in this last trial), to John, and thus placed this
disciple in his stead,—made him vicarius Christi.

As the address of Jesus to his mother and the favourite disciple is
peculiar to the fourth gospel: so, on the other hand, the exclamation,
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? ἠλὶ, ἠλὶ, λαμὰ σαβαχθανί; is
only found in the two first gospels (Matt. v. 46; Mark v. 34). This
exclamation, with the mental state from which it proceeded, like the
agony in Gethsemane, constitutes in the opinion of the church a part of
the vicarious suffering of Christ. As however in this instance also it
was impossible to be blind to the difficulties of the supposition, that
the mere corporeal suffering, united with the external depression of
his cause, overwhelmed Jesus to such a degree that he felt himself
forsaken by God, while there have been both before and after him
persons who, under sufferings equally severe, have yet preserved
composure and fortitude: the opinion of the church has here also, in
addition to the natural corporeal and spiritual affliction, supposed as
the true cause of that state of mind in Jesus, a withdrawal of God from
his soul, a consciousness of the divine wrath, which it was decreed
that he should bear in the stead of mankind, by whom it was deserved as
a punishment. [1981] How, presupposing the dogma of the church
concerning the person of Christ, a withdrawal of God from his soul is
conceivable, it is the part of the defenders of this opinion
themselves, to decide. Was it the human nature in him which felt so
forsaken? Then would its unity with the divine have been interrupted,
and thus the very basis of the personality of Christ, according to the
above system, removed. Or the divine? In that case the second person in
the Godhead would have been separated from the first. As little can it
have been the God-man, consisting of both natures, that felt forsaken
by God, since the very essence of this is the unity and inseparableness
of the divine and the human. Thus urged by the self-contradiction of
this supranaturalistic explanation, to fall back on the natural mode of
accounting for the above exclamation by the sense of external
suffering, and yet repelled from the idea that Jesus should have been
so completely subdued by this, commentators have attempted to mollify
the sense of the exclamation. It consists of the opening words of Ps.
xxii., a passage which is classical for this last scene in the life of
Jesus. Now this psalm begins with a complaining description of the
deepest suffering, but in the course of its progress soars into joyful
hope of deliverance; hence it has been supposed that the words which
Jesus immediately utters do not give his entire experience, and that in
thus reciting the first verse he at the same time quotes the whole
psalm and especially its exulting close, just as if he meant to say: It
is true that I, like the author of this psalm, appear now forsaken of
God, but in me, as in him, the divine succour will only be so much the
more glorified. [1982] But if Jesus uttered this exclamation with a
view to the bystanders, and in order to assure them that his affliction
would soon be merged in triumph, he would have chosen the means the
least adapted to his purpose, if he had uttered precisely those words
of the Psalm which express the deepest misery; and instead of the first
verse he would rather have chosen one from the 10th to the 12th, or
from the 20th to the end. If however in that exclamation he meant
merely to give vent to his own feeling, he would not have chosen this
verse if his actual experience in these moments had been, not what is
there expressed, but what is described in the succeeding verses. Now if
this experience was his own, and if, all supernatural grounds of
explanation being dismissed, it proceeded from his external calamities;
we must observe that one who, as the gospels narrate of Jesus, had long
included suffering and death in his idea of the Messiah, and hence had
regarded them as a part of the divine arrangements, could scarcely
complain of them when they actually arrived as an abandonment by God;
rather, on the above supposition, we should be led to think that Jesus
had found himself deceived in the expectations which he had previously
cherished, and thus believed himself forsaken by God in the prosecution
of his plan. [1983] But we could only resort to such conjectures if the
above exclamation of Jesus were shown to have an historical foundation.
In this respect the silence of Luke and John would not, it is true, be
so serious a difficulty in our eyes, that we should take refuge in
explanations like the following: John suppressed the exclamation, lest
it should serve to countenance the Gnostic opinion, by admitting the
inference that the Æon which was insusceptible of suffering, departed
from Jesus in that moment. [1984] But the relation of the words of
Jesus to the 22nd Psalm does certainly render this particular
suspicious. If the Messiah was once conceived of as suffering, and if
that psalm was used as a sort of programme of his suffering—for which
it was by no means necessary as an inducement that Jesus should have
really quoted one of its verses on the cross:—the opening words of the
psalm which are expressive of the deepest suffering must appear
singularly adapted to be put into the mouth of the crucified Messiah.
In this case the derisive speech [1985] of the bystanders, he calleth
for Elias, etc., can have had no other origin than this—that the wish
for a variety of taunts to complete this scene after the model of the
psalm, was met by the similarity of sound between the ἠλὶ in the
exclamation lent to Jesus, and the name of Elias which was associated
with the Messiah.

Concerning the last words which the expiring Jesus was heard to utter,
the Evangelists differ. According to Matthew and Mark, it was merely a
loud voice, φωνὴ μεγάλη, with which he departed (v. 50, 37); according
to Luke it was the petition: Father, into thy hands I commend my
spirit, πάτερ, εἰς χεῖράς σου παραθήσομαι τὸ πνεῦμᾴ μου (v. 46); while
according to John it was on the brief expression: it is finished,
τετέλεσται, that he bowed his head and expired (v. 30). Here it is
possible to reconcile the two first Evangelists with one or other of
the succeeding ones by the supposition, that what the former describe
indefinitely as a loud cry, and what according to their representation
might be taken for an inarticulate expression of anguish, the others,
with more particularity, give in its precise verbal form. It is more
difficult to reconcile the two last gospels. For whether we suppose
that Jesus first commended his soul to God, and hereupon cried: it is
finished; or vice versâ; both collocations are alike opposed to the
intention of the Evangelists, for the expression of Luke καὶ ταῦτα
εἰπὼν ἐξέπνευσεν cannot be rendered, as Paulus would have it, by: soon
after he had said this, he expired; and the very words of the
exclamation in John define it as the last utterance of Jesus; the two
writers forming different conceptions of the closing words. In the
account of Luke, the common form of expression for the death of Jesus:
παρέδωκε τὸ πνεῦμα (he delivered up his spirit) appears to have been
interpreted as an actual commending of his soul to God on the part of
Jesus, and to have been further developed with reference to the passage
Ps. xxxi. 5: (Lord) into thy hands I commend my spirit, (κύριε) εἰς
χεῖράς σου παραθήσομαι τὸ πνεῦμά μου (LXX.),—a passage which from the
strong resemblance of this Psalm to the 22nd would be apt to suggest
itself. [1986] Whereas the author of the fourth gospel appears to have
lent to Jesus an expression more immediately proceeding from his
position in relation to his messianic office, making him express in the
word τετέλεσται it is finished the completion of his work, or the
fulfilment of all the prophecies (with the exception, of course, of
what could only be completed and fulfilled in the resurrection).

Not only these last words, however, but also the earlier expressions of
Jesus on the cross, will not admit of being ranged in the succession in
which they are generally supposed. The speeches of Jesus on the cross
are commonly reckoned to be seven; but so many are not mentioned by any
single Evangelist, for the two first have only one: the exclamation my
God, my God, etc. ἠλὶ, ἠλὶ, κ.τ.λ. Luke has three; the prayer of Jesus
for his enemies, the promise to the thief, and the commending of his
spirit into the hands of the Father; John has likewise three, but all
different: the address to his mother and the disciple, with the
exclamations, I thirst διψῶ and It is finished τετέλεσται. Now the
intercessory prayer, the promise and the recommendation of Mary to the
care of the disciple, might certainly be conceived as following each
other: but the διψῶ and the ἠλὶ come into collision, since both
exclamations are followed by the same incident, the offering of vinegar
by means of a sponge on a reed. When to this we add the entanglement of
the τετέλεσται with the πάτερ κ.τ.λ., it should surely be seen and
admitted, that no one of the Evangelists, in attributing words to Jesus
when on the cross, knew or took into consideration those lent to him by
the others; that on the contrary each depicted this scene in his own
manner, according as he, or the legend which stood at his command, had
developed the conception of it to suit this or that prophecy or design.

A special difficulty is here caused by the computation of the hours.
According to all the synoptists the darkness prevailed from the sixth
hour until the ninth hour, ἀπὸ ἕκτης ὥρας ἕως ὥρας ἐννάτης (in our
reckoning, from twelve at midday to three in the afternoon); according
to Matthew and Mark, it was about the ninth hour that Jesus complained
of being forsaken by God, and shortly after yielded up the ghost;
according to Mark it was the third hour ὥρα τρίτη (nine in the morning)
when Jesus was crucified (v. 25). On the other hand, John says (xix.
14) that it was about the sixth hour (when according to Mark Jesus had
already hung three hours on the cross) that Pilate first sat in
judgment over him. Unless we are to suppose that the sun-dial went
backward, as in the time of Hezekiah, this is a contradiction which is
not to be removed by a violent alteration of the reading, nor by
appealing to the ὡσεὶ (about) in John, or to the inability of the
disciples to take note of the hours under such afflictive
circumstances; at the utmost it might perhaps be cancelled if it were
possible to prove that the fourth gospel throughout proceeds upon
another mode of reckoning time than that used by the synoptists. [1987]

CHAPTER IV.

DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS.

§ 133.

PRODIGIES ATTENDANT ON THE DEATH OF JESUS.

According to the evangelical accounts, the death of Jesus was
accompanied by extraordinary phenomena. Three hours before, we are
told, a darkness diffused itself, and lasted until Jesus expired (Matt.
xxvii. 45 parall.); in the moment of his death the veil of the temple
was torn asunder from the top to the bottom, the earth quaked, the
rocks were rent, the graves were opened, and many bodies of departed
saints arose, entered into the city, and appeared to many (Matt. v. 51
ff. parall.). These details are very unequally distributed among the
Evangelists: the first alone has them all; the second and third merely
the darkness and the rending of the veil: while the fourth knows
nothing of all these marvels.

We will examine them singly according to their order. The darkness
σκότος which is said to have arisen while Jesus hung on the cross,
cannot have been an ordinary eclipse of the sun, caused by the
interposition of the moon between his disc and the earth, [1988] since
it happened during the Passover, and consequently about the time of the
full moon. The gospels however do not directly use the terms ἔκλειψις
τοῦ ἡλίου (eclipse of the sun), the two first speaking only of darkness
σκότος in general; and though the third adds with somewhat more
particularity: καὶ ἐσκοτίσθη ὁ ἥλιος, and the sun was darkened, still
this might be said of any species of widely extended obscuration. Hence
it was an explanation which lay near at hand to refer this darkness to
an atmospheric, instead of an astronomical cause, and to suppose that
it proceeded from obscuring vapours in the air, such as are especially
wont to precede earthquakes. [1989] That such obscurations of the
atmosphere may be diffused over whole countries, is true; but not only
is the statement that the one in question extended ἐπὶ πᾶσαν or ὅλεν
τὴν γην, i.e., according to the most natural explanation, over the
entire globe, to be subtracted as an exaggeration of the narrator:
[1990] but also the presupposition, evident in the whole tenor of their
representation, that the darkness had a supernatural cause, appears
destitute of foundation from the want of any adequate object for such a
miracle. Since then, with these accessory features the event does not
in itself at once carry the conviction of its credibility, it is
natural to inquire if it have any extrinsic confirmation. The fathers
of the church appeal in its support to the testimony of heathen
writers, among whom Phlegon especially in his χρονικοῖς is alleged to
have noticed the above darkness: [1991] but on comparing the passage
preserved by Eusebius, which is apparently the one of Phlegon alluded
to, we find that it determines merely the Olympiad, scarcely the year,
and in no case the season and day of this darkness. [1992] More modern
apologists appeal to similar cases in ancient history, of which
Wetstein in particular has made a copious collection. He adduces from
Greek and Roman writers the notices of the eclipses of the sun which
occurred at the disappearance of Romulus, the death of Cæsar, [1993]
and similar events; he cites declarations which contain the idea that
eclipses of the sun betoken the fall of kingdoms and the death of
kings; lastly he points to Old Testament passages (Isa. l. 3; Joel iii.
20; Amos viii. 9; comp. Jer. xv. 9) and rabbinical dicta, in which
either the obscuring of the light of day is described as the mourning
garb of God, [1994] or the death of great teachers compared with the
sinking of the sun at mid-day, [1995] or the opinion advanced that at
the death of exalted hierarchical personages, if the last honours are
not paid to them, the sun is wont to be darkened. [1996] But these
parallels, instead of being supports to the credibility of the
evangelical narrative, are so many premises to the conclusion, that we
have here also nothing more than the mythical offspring of universally
prevalent ideas,—a Christian legend, which would make all nature put on
the weeds of mourning to solemnize the tragic death of the Messiah.
[1997]

The second prodigy is the rending of the veil of the temple, doubtless
the inner veil before the Holy of Holies, since the word ‏פָּרֹכֶת‎, used
to designate this, is generally rendered in the LXX. by καταπέτασμα. It
was thought possible to interpret this rending of the veil also as a
natural event, by regarding it as an effect of the earthquake. But, as
Lightfoot has already justly observed, it is more conceivable that an
earthquake should rend stationary fixed bodies such as the rocks
subsequently mentioned, than that it should tear a pliant, loosely hung
curtain. Hence Paulus supposes that the veil of the temple was
stretched and fastened not only above but also below and at the sides.
But first, this is a mere conjecture: and secondly, if the earthquake
shook the walls of the temple so violently, as to tear a veil which
even though stretched, was still pliant: such a convulsion would rather
have caused a part of the building to fall, as is said to have been the
case in the Gospel of the Hebrews: [1998] unless it be chosen to add,
with Kuinöl, the conjecture that the veil was tender from age, and
might therefore be torn by a slight concussion. That our narrators had
no such causes in their minds is proved by the fact that the second and
third Evangelists are silent concerning the earthquake, and that the
first does not mention it until after the rending of the veil. Thus if
this event really happened we must regard it as a miracle. Now the
object of the divine Providence in effecting such a miracle could only
have been this: to produce in the Jewish cotemporaries of Jesus a deep
impression of the importance of his death, and to furnish the first
promulgators of the gospel with a fact to which they might appeal in
support of their cause. But, as Schleiermacher has shown, nowhere else
in the New Testament, either in the apostolic epistles or in the Acts,
or even in the Epistle to the Hebrews, in connexion with the subject of
which it could scarcely fail to be suggested, is this event mentioned:
on the contrary, with the exception of this bare synoptical notice,
every trace of it is lost; which could scarcely have been the case if
it had really formed a ground of apostolical argument. Thus the divine
purpose in ordaining this miracle must have totally failed; or, since
this is inconceivable, it cannot have been ordained for this object—in
other words, since neither any other object of the miracle, nor yet a
mode in which the event might happen naturally can be discovered, it
cannot have happened at all. In another way, certainly, a peculiar
relation of Jesus to the veil of the temple is treated of in the
Epistle to the Hebrews. While before Christ, only the priests had
access into the holy place, and into the Holy of Holies only the high
priest might enter once in the year with the blood of atonement; Christ
as the eternal high priest, entered by his own blood into the holy
place within the veil, into the Holy of Holies in heaven, whereby he
became the forerunner, πρόδρομος, of Christians, and opened access to
them also, founding an eternal redemption, αἰώνιον λύτρωσιν (vi. 19 f.,
ix. 6, 12, x. 19 f.). Even Paulus finds in these metaphors so close an
affinity to our narrative, that he thinks it possible to number the
latter among those fables which according to Henke’s definitions are to
be derived e figurato genere dicendi; [1999] at least the event, even
if it really happened, must have been especially important to the
Christians on account of its symbolical significance, as interpreted by
the images in the Epistle to the Hebrews: namely, that by Christ’s
death the veil of the Jewish worship was rent asunder, and access to
God opened to all by means of worship in the Spirit. But if, as has
been shown, the historical probability of the event in question is
extremely weak, and on the other hand, the causes which might lead to
the formation of such a narrative without historical foundation very
powerful; it is more consistent, with Schleiermacher, entirely to
renounce the incident as historical, on the ground that so soon as it
began to be the practice to represent the office of Christ under the
images which reign throughout the Epistle to the Hebrews, nay, in the
very earliest dawn of this kind of doctrine, on the first reception of
the Gentiles, who were left free from the burthen of Jewish
observances, and who thus remained without participation in the Jewish
sacrifices, such representations must have entered into the Christian
hymns (and the evangelical narratives). [2000]

On the succeeding particulars of the earthquake and the rending of the
rocks, we can only pronounce a judgment in connexion with those already
examined. An earthquake by which rocks are disparted, is not
unprecedented as a natural phenomenon: but it also not seldom occurs as
a poetical or mythical embellishment of the death of a distinguished
man; as, for example, on the death of Cæsar, Virgil is not content with
eclipsing the sun, but also makes the Alps tremble with unwonted
commotion. [2001] Now as we have only been able to view the prodigies
previously mentioned in the latter light, and as, besides, the
historical validity of the one before us is weakened by the fact that
it rests solely on the testimony of Matthew; we must pronounce upon
this also in the words of Fritzsche: Messiæ obitum atrocibus ostentis,
quibus, quantus vir quummaxime exspirâsset, orbi terrarum indicaretur,
illustrem esse oportebat. [2002]

The last miraculous sign at the death of Jesus, likewise peculiar to
the first Evangelist, is the opening of the graves, the resurrection of
many dead persons, and their appearance in Jerusalem. To render this
incident conceivable is a matter of unusual difficulty. It is neither
in itself clear how it is supposed to have fared with these ancient
Hebrew saints, ἁγίοις, [2003] after their resurrection; [2004] nor is
anything satisfactory to be discovered concerning a possible object for
so extraordinary a dispensation. [2005] Purely in the resuscitated
themselves the object cannot apparently have lain, for had it been so,
there is no conceivable ground why they should be all awaked precisely
in the moment of the death of Jesus, and not each at the period
prescribed by the course of his own development. But if the conviction
of others was the object, this was still less attained than in the
miracle of the rending of the veil, for not only is any appeal to the
apparition of the saints totally wanting in the apostolic epistles and
discourses, but also among the Evangelists, Matthew is the only one by
whom it is recorded. A special difficulty arises from the position
which the determination of time: after his resurrection, μετὰ τὴν
ἔγερσιν αὐτοῦ, occupies between the apparently consecutive stages of
the event. For if we connect these words with what precedes, and thus
suppose that at the moment of the death of Jesus, the deceased saints
were only reanimated, and did not come out of their graves until after
his resurrection,—this would have been a torment for the damned rather
than a guerdon for the holy; if, on the contrary, we unite that
determination of time to what follows, and thus interpret the
Evangelist’s meaning to be, that the resuscitated saints did indeed
come out of their graves immediately on their being reanimated at the
moment that Jesus died, but did not go into the city until after his
resurrection,—any reason for the latter particular is sought in vain.
It is but an inartificial way of avoiding these difficulties to
pronounce the whole passage an interpolation, without any critical
grounds for such a decision. [2006] A more dexterous course is pursued
by the rationalistic expositors, when they endeavour to subtract the
miraculous from the event, and by this means indirectly to remove the
other difficulties. Here, as in relation to the rending of the veil,
the earthquake is regarded as the chief agent: this, it is said, laid
open several tombs, particularly those of some prophets, which were
found empty, because the bodies had either been removed by the shock,
or become decomposed, or fallen a prey to wild beasts. After the
resurrection of Jesus, those who were friendly to him in Jerusalem
being filled with thoughts of resurrection from the dead, these
thoughts, together with the circumstance of the graves being found
empty, excited in them dreams and visions in which they believed that
they beheld the pious ancestors who had been interred in those graves.
[2007] But the fact of the graves being found empty would scarcely,
even united with the news of the resurrection of Jesus, have sufficed
to produce such visions, unless there had previously prevailed among
the Jews the expectation that the Messiah would recall to life the
departed saints of Israel. If however this expectation existed, it
would more probably give birth to the legend of a resurrection of the
saints coincident with the death of Jesus than to dreams; whence Hase
wisely discards the supposition of dreams, and attempts to find a
sufficient explanation of the narrative in the emptiness of the graves
on the one hand, and the above Jewish expectation on the other. [2008]
But on a nearer view it appears that if once this Jewish idea existed
there needed no real opening of the graves in order to give rise to
such a mythus: accordingly Schneckenburger has left the emptiness of
the graves out of his calculation. [2009] When, however, he yet speaks
of visionary appearances which were seen by the adherents of Jesus in
Jerusalem, under the excitement produced by his resurrection, he is not
less inconsequent than Hase, when he omits the dreams and yet retains
the laying open of the graves; for these two particulars being
connected as cause and effect, if one of them be renounced as
unhistorical so also must the other.

In opposition to this view it is remarked, not without an appearance of
reason, that the above Jewish expectation does not suffice to explain
the origin of such a mythus. [2010] The actual expectation may be more
correctly stated thus. From the epistles of Paul (1 Thess. iv. 16;
comp. 1 Cor. xv. 22 f.) and more decidedly from the Apocalypse (xx. 4
f.), we gather that the first Christians anticipated, as a concomitant
of the return of Christ, a resurrection of the saints, who would
thenceforth reign with Christ a thousand years; only at the end of this
period, it was thought, would the rest of the dead arise, and from this
second resurrection the former was distinguished as the first
resurrection ἡ ἀνάστασις ἑ πρώτη, or the resurrection of the just τῶν
δικαίων (Luke xiv. 14?), in place of which Justin has the holy
resurrection ἡ ἁγία ἀνάστασις. [2011] But this is the Christianized
form of the Jewish idea; for the latter referred, not to the return,
but to the first advent of the Messiah, and to a resurrection of
Israelites only. [2012] Now in the statement of Matthew likewise, that
resurrection is assigned to the first appearance of the Messiah; for
what reason, however, it is there connected with his death, there is
certainly no indication in the Jewish expectation taken in and by
itself, while in the modification introduced by the adherents of Jesus
there would appear rather to have lain an inducement to unite the
resurrection of the saints with his own; especially as the connecting
of it with his death seems to be in contradiction with the primitive
Christian idea elsewhere expressed, that Jesus was the first-begotten
from the dead, πρωτότοκος ἐκ τῶν νεκρῶν (Col. i. 18; Rev. i. 5), the
first fruits of them that sleep, ἀπαρχὴ τῶν κεκοιμημένων (1 Cor. xv.
20). But we do not know whether this idea was universal, and if some
thought it due to the messianic dignity of Jesus to regard him as the
first who rose from the dead, there are obvious motives which might in
other cases lead to the representation that already at the death of
Jesus there was a resurrection of saints. First there was an external
motive: among the prodigies at the death of Jesus an earthquake is
mentioned, and in describing its violence it was natural to add to the
rending of the rocks another feature which appears elsewhere in
accounts of violent earthquakes, [2013] namely, the opening of the
graves: here then was an inviting hinge for the resurrection of the
saints. But there was also an internal motive: according to the ideas
early developed in the Christian community, the death of Jesus was the
specially efficacious point in the work of redemption, and in
particular the descent into Hades connected with it (1 Pet. iii. 19 f.)
was the means of delivering the previously deceased from this abode;
[2014] hence from these ideas there might result an inducement to
represent the bonds of the grave as having been burst asunder for the
ancient saints precisely in the moment of the death of Jesus. Besides,
by this position, yet more decidedly than by a connexion with the
resurrection of Jesus, the resuscitation of the righteous was assigned
to the first appearance of the Messiah, in accordance with the Jewish
idea, which might very naturally be echoed in such a narrative, in the
Judaizing circles of primitive Christendom; while at the same time Paul
and also the author of the Apocalypse already assigned the first
resurrection to the second and still future advent of the Messiah. It
was then apparently with reference to this more developed idea, that
the words after his resurrection were added as a restriction, probably
by the author of the first gospel himself.

The synoptists conclude their description of the events at the death of
Jesus, with an account of the impression which they made more
immediately on the Roman centurion whose office it was to watch the
crucifixion. According to Luke (v. 47) this impression was produced by
τὸ γενόμενον (what was done), i.e., since he had beforehand mentioned
the darkness, by the departure of Jesus with an audible prayer, that
being the particular which he had last noticed; indeed Mark, as if
expounding Luke, represents the exclamation: truly this man was the Son
of God as being called forth from the centurion by the circumstance
that Jesus so cried out, and gave up the ghost, οὕτω κράξας ἐξέπνευσεν
(v. 39). Now in Luke, who gives a prayer as the last utterance of
Jesus, it is possible to conceive that this edifying end might impress
the centurion with a favourable opinion of Jesus: but how the fact of
his expiring with a loud cry could lead to the inference that he was
the Son of God, will in no way appear. Matthew however gives the most
suitable relation to the words of the centurion, when he represents
them as being called forth by the earthquake and the other prodigies
which accompanied the death of Jesus: were it not that the historical
reality of this speech of the centurion must stand or fall with its
alleged causes. In Matthew and Mark this officer expresses the
conviction that Jesus is in truth the Son of God, in Luke, that he is a
righteous man. The Evangelists in citing the former expression
evidently intend to convey the idea that a Gentile bore witness to the
Messiahship of Jesus; but in this specifically Jewish sense the words
cannot well have been understood by the Roman soldier: we might rather
suppose that he regarded Jesus as a son of God in the heathen sense, or
as an innocent man unjustly put to death, were it not that the
credibility of the whole synoptical account of the events which
signalized the death of Jesus being shaken, this, which forms the top
stone as it were, must also be of doubtful security; especially when we
look at the narrative of Luke, who besides the impression on the
centurion adds that on the rest of the spectators, and makes them
return to the city with repentance and mourning—a trait which appears
to represent, not so probably what the Jews actually felt and did, as
what in the opinion of the Christians they ought to have felt and done.

§ 134.

THE WOUND BY A SPEAR IN THE SIDE OF JESUS.

While the synoptists represent Jesus as hanging on the cross from the
ὥρα ἐννάτη, i.e. three in the afternoon, when he expired, until the
ὀψία, i.e. probably about six in the evening, without anything further
happening to him: the fourth Evangelist interposes a remarkable
episode. According to him, the Jews, in order to prevent the
desecration of the coming sabbath, which was a peculiarly hallowed one,
by the continued exposure of the bodies on the cross, besought the
Procurator that their legs might be broken and that they might
forthwith be carried away. The soldiers, to whom this task was
committed, executed it on the two criminals crucified with Jesus; but
when they perceived in the latter the signs of life having already
become extinct, they held such a measure superfluous in his case, and
contented themselves with thrusting a spear into his side, whereupon
there came forth blood and water (xix. 31–37).

This event is ordinarily regarded as the chief voucher for the reality
of the death of Jesus, and in relation to it the proof to be drawn from
the synoptists is held inadequate. According to the reckoning which
gives the longest space of time, that of Mark, Jesus hung on the cross
from the third to the ninth hour, that is, six hours, before he died;
if, as to many it has appeared probable, in the two other synoptists
the commencement of the darkness at the sixth hour marks also the
commencement of the crucifixion, Jesus, according to them, hung only
three hours living on the cross; and if we presuppose in John the
ordinary Jewish mode of reckoning the hours, and attribute to him the
same opinion as to the period of the death of Jesus, it follows, since
he makes Pilate pronounce judgment on him only about the sixth hour,
that Jesus must have died after hanging on the cross not much more than
two hours. But crucifixion does not in other cases kill thus speedily.
This may be inferred from the nature of the punishment, which does not
consist in the infliction of severe wounds so as to cause a rapid loss
of blood, but rather in the stretching of the limbs, so as to produce a
gradual rigidity; moreover it is evident from the statements of the
Evangelists themselves, for according to them Jesus, immediately before
the moment which they regard as the last, had yet strength to utter a
loud cry, and the two thieves crucified with him were still alive after
that time; lastly, this opinion is supported by examples of individuals
whose life has lasted for several days on the cross, and who have only
at length expired from hunger and similar causes. [2015] Hence fathers
of the church and older theologians advanced the opinion, that the
death of Jesus, which would not have ensued so quickly in a natural
way, was accelerated supernaturally, either by himself or by God;
[2016] physicians and more modern theologians have appealed to the
accumulated corporeal and spiritual sufferings of Jesus on the evening
of the night prior to his crucifixion; [2017] but they also for the
most part leave open the possibility that what appeared to the
Evangelists the supervention of death itself, was only a swoon produced
by the stoppage of the circulation, and that the wound with the spear
in the side first consummated the death of Jesus.

But concerning this wound itself, the place, the instrument, and the
manner of its infliction—concerning its object and effects, there has
always been a great diversity of opinion. The instrument is called by
the Evangelist a λόνχη, which may equally signify either the light
javelin or the heavy lance; so that we are left in uncertainty as to
the extent of the wound. The manner in which the wound was inflicted he
describes by the verb νύσσειν, which sometimes denotes a mortal wound,
sometimes a slight scratch, nay, even a thrust which does not so much
as draw blood; hence we are ignorant of the depth of the wound: though
since Jesus, after the resurrection, makes Thomas lay only his fingers
in the print of the nails, but, in or even merely on the wound in the
side, his hand (John xx. 27), the stroke of the spear seems to have
made a considerable wound. But the question turns mainly on the place
in which the wound was made. This John describes as the πλευρὰ side,
and certainly if the spear entered the left side between the ribs and
penetrated into the heart, death must inevitably have ensued: but the
above expression may just as properly imply the right side as the left,
and in either side any spot from the shoulder to the hip. Most of these
points indeed would be at once decided, if the object of the soldier
had been to kill Jesus, supposing he should not be already dead; in
this case he would doubtless have pierced Jesus in the most fatal
place, and as deeply as possible, or rather, have broken his legs, as
was done to the two thieves: but since he treated Jesus otherwise than
his fellow sufferers, it is evident that in relation to him he had a
different object, namely, in the first place to ascertain by this
stroke of the spear, whether death had really taken place—a conclusion
which he believed might securely be drawn from the flowing of blood and
water out of the wound.

But this result of the wound is in fact the subject on which there is
the least unanimity. The fathers of the Church, on the ground that
blood no longer flows from corpses, regarded the blood and water, αἷμα
καὶ ὕδωρ, which flowed from the corpse of Jesus as a miracle, a sign of
his superhuman nature. [2018] More modern theologians, founding on the
same experience, have interpreted the expression as a hendiadys,
implying that the blood still flowed, and that this was a sign that
death had not yet, or not until now taken place. [2019] As, however,
blood is itself a fluid, the water ὕδωρ added to the blood αἷμα cannot
signify merely the fluid state of the latter, but must denote a
peculiar admixture which the blood flowing from the side of Jesus
contained. To explain this to themselves, and at the same time obtain
the most infallible proof of death, others have fallen on the idea that
the water mixed with the blood came out of the pericardium, which had
been pierced by the spear, and in which, especially in such as die
under severe anguish, a quantity of fluid is said to be accumulated.
[2020] But—besides that the piercing of the pericardium is a mere
supposition—on the one hand, the quantity of such fluid, where no
dropsy exists, is so trifling, that its emission would not be
perceptible; and on the other hand, it is only a single small spot in
front of the breast where the pericardium can be so struck that an
emission outward is possible: in all other cases, whatever was emitted
would be poured into the cavity of the thorax. [2021] Without doubt the
idea which was present in the Evangelist’s mind was rather the fact,
which may be observed in every instance of blood-letting, that the
blood, so soon as it has ceased to take part in the vital process,
begins to divide itself into placenta and serum; and he intended by
representing this separation as having already taken place in the blood
of Jesus, to adduce a proof of his real death. [2022] But whether this
outflow of blood and water in perceptible separation be a possible
proof of death,—whether Hase and Winer be right when they maintain that
on deep incisions in corpses the blood sometimes flows in this
decomposed state; or the fathers, when they deem this so unprecedented
that it must be regarded as a miracle in Jesus,—this is another
question. A distinguished anatomist has explained the state of the fact
to me in the following manner: [2023] Ordinarily, within an hour after
death the blood begins to coagulate in the vessels, and consequently no
longer to flow on incisions; only by way of exception in certain
species of death, as nervous fevers, or suffocation, does the blood
retain its fluidity in the corpse. Now if it be chosen to place the
death on the cross under the category of suffocation—which, however,
from the length of time that crucified persons have often remained
alive, and in relation to Jesus especially, from his being said to have
spoken to the last, appears impracticable; or if it be supposed that
the wound in the side followed so quickly on the instant of death that
it found the blood still fluid,—a supposition which is discordant with
the narratives, for they state Jesus to have been already dead at three
in the afternoon, while the bodies must have been taken away only at
six in the evening: then, if the spear struck one of the larger blood
vessels, blood would have flowed, but without water; if, however, Jesus
had already been dead about an hour, and his corpse was in the ordinary
state: nothing at all would have flowed. Thus either blood or nothing:
in no case blood and water, because the serum and placenta are not
separated in the vessels of the corpse as in the basin after
blood-letting. Hardly then had the author of this trait in the fourth
gospel himself seen the αἷμα καὶ ὕδωρ flowing out of the side of Jesus,
as a sign that his death had taken place; rather, because after
blood-letting he had seen the above separation take place in the blood
as it lost its vitality, and because he was desirous to show a certain
proof of the death of Jesus, he represented those separate ingredients
as flowing out of his wounded corpse.

The Evangelist assures us, with the most solicitous earnestness, that
this really happened to Jesus, and that his account is trustworthy, as
being founded on personal observation (v. 35). According to some, he
gives this testimony in opposition to docetic Gnostics, who denied the
true corporeality of Jesus: [2024] but wherefore then the mention of
the water? According to others, on account of the noteworthy fulfilment
of two prophecies by that procedure with respect to the body of Jesus.
[2025] But, as Lücke himself says, though John does certainly
elsewhere, even in subordinate points, seek a fulfilment of prophecy,
he nowhere attaches to it so extraordinary a weight as he would here
have done according to this supposition. Hence it appears the most
natural supposition that the Evangelist intended by those assurances to
confirm the truth of the death of Jesus, [2026] and that he merely
appended the reference to the fulfilment of Scripture as a secondary
illustrative addition. The absence of an historical indication, that so
early as the period of the composition of the fourth gospel, there
existed a suspicion that the death of Jesus was only apparent, does not
suffice, in the paucity of information at our command concerning that
period, to prove that a suspicion so easy of suggestion had not
actually to be combated in the circle in which the above gospel arose,
and that it may not have given occasion to the adduction of proofs not
only of the resurrection of Jesus, but also of his death. [2027] Even
in the Gospel of Mark a similar effort is visible. When this
Evangelist, in narrating Joseph’s entreaty for the body of Jesus, says:
And Pilate marvelled if he were already dead (v. 44): this suggests the
idea that he lent to Pilate an astonishment which he must have heard
expressed by many of his cotemporaries concerning the rapidity with
which the death of Jesus had ensued; and when he proceeds to state that
the procurator obtained from the centurion certain information that
Jesus had been some time dead, πάλαι ἀπέθανε: it appears as if he
wished, in silencing the doubt of Pilate, to silence that of his
cotemporaries also; but in that case he can have known nothing of a
wound with a spear, and its consequences, otherwise he would not have
left unnoticed this securest warrant of death having really taken
place: so that the representation in John has the appearance of being a
fuller development of a tendency of the legend already visible in Mark.

This view of John’s narrative is further confirmed by his citation of
Old Testament passages, as fulfilled in this event. In the stroke of
the spear he sees the fulfilment of Zech. xii. 10 (better translated by
John than by the LXX.), where Jehovah says to the Israelites ‏וְהִבִּיטוּ
אֵלַי אֵת אֲשֶׁר דָּקָרוּ‎ they shall look on him whom they have pierced, in the
sense, that they will one day return to him whom they had so grievously
offended. [2028] The word ‏דָּקַר‎, to pierce, understood literally,
expresses an act which appears more capable of being directed against a
man than against Jehovah: this interpretation is supported by the
variation in the reading ‏אֵלָיו‎; and it must have been confirmed by the
succeeding context, which proceeds in the third person thus: and they
shall mourn for him, as one mourneth for his only son, and shall be in
bitterness for him, as one that is in bitterness for his first-born.
Hence the Rabbins interpreted this passage of the Messiah ben Joseph,
who would be pierced by the sword in battle, [2029] and the Christians
might refer it, as they did so many passages in Psalms of lamentation,
to their Messiah, at first understanding the piercing either
figuratively or as implying the nailing of the hands (and feet) in
crucifixion (comp. Rev. i. 7); until at last some one, who desired a
more decisive proof of death than crucifixion in itself afforded,
interpreted it as a special piercing with the spear.

If then this trait of the piercing with the spear proceeded from the
combined interests of obtaining a proof of death, and a literal
fulfilment of a prophecy: the rest must be regarded as merely its
preparatory groundwork. The piercing was only needful as a test of
death, if Jesus had to be early taken down from the cross, which
according to Jewish law (Deut. xxi. 22; Josh. viii. 29, x. 26, f.—an
exception occurs in 2 Sam. xxi. 6 ff. [2030]) must in any case be
before night; but in particular in the present instance (a special
circumstance which John alone notes), before the commencement of the
passover. If Jesus died unusually soon, and if the two who were
crucified with him were yet to be taken down at the same time, the
death of the latter must be hastened by violent means. This might be
done likewise by means of a stroke of the spear: but then the piercing,
which in Zech. xii. 10 was predicted specially of the Messiah, would
equally happen to others. Thus in their case it would be better to
choose the breaking of the legs, which would not, indeed,
instantaneously superinduce death, but which yet made it ultimately
certain as a consequence of the mortification produced by the fracture.
It is true that the crurifragium appears nowhere else in connexion with
crucifixion among the Romans, but only as a separate punishment for
slaves, prisoners of war, and the like. [2031] But it was not the less
suitable in a prophetic point of view; for was it not said of the
Paschal lamb with which Jesus was elsewhere also compared (1 Cor. v.
7): not a bone of him shall be broken (Exod. xii. 46)? so that both the
prophecies were fulfilled, the one determining what should happen
exclusively to Jesus, the other what should happen to his
fellow-sufferers, but not to him.

§ 135.

BURIAL OF JESUS.

According to Roman custom the body of Jesus must have remained
suspended until consumed by the weather, birds of prey, and corruption;
[2032] according to the Jewish, it must have been interred in the
dishonourable burying place assigned to the executed: [2033] but the
evangelical accounts inform us that a distinguished adherent of the
deceased begged his body of the procurator, which, agreeably to the
Roman law, [2034] was not refused, but was immediately delivered to him
(Matt. xxvii. 57 parall.). This man, who in all the gospels is named
Joseph, and said to be derived from Arimathea, was according to Matthew
a rich man and a disciple of Jesus, but the latter, as John adds, only
in secret; the two intermediate Evangelists describe him as an
honourable member of the high council, in which character, Luke
remarks, he had not given his voice for the condemnation of Jesus, and
they both represent him as cherishing messianic expectations. That we
have here a personal description gradually developed into more and more
preciseness is evident. In the first gospel Joseph is a disciple of
Jesus—and such must have been the man who under circumstances so
unfavourable did not hesitate to take charge of his body; that,
according to the same gospel, he was a rich man ἄνθρωπος πλούσιος
already reminds us of Isa. liii. 9, where it is said ‏וַיִּתֵּן אֶת־רְשָׁעִים
קִבְרוֹ וְאֶת־עָשִׁיר בְּמֹתָיו‎ which might possibly be understood of a burial
with the rich, and thus become the source at least of this predicate of
Joseph of Arimathea. That he entertained messianic ideas, as Luke and
Mark add, followed of course from his relation to Jesus; that he was a
counsellor, βουλευτὴς, as the same Evangelists declare, is certainly a
new piece of information: but that as such he could not have concurred
in the condemnation of Jesus was again a matter of course; lastly, that
he had hitherto kept his adherence to Jesus a secret, as John observes,
accords with the peculiar position in relation to Jesus which this
Evangelist gives to certain exalted adherents, especially to Nicodemus,
who is subsequently associated with Joseph. Hence it must not be at
once supposed that the additional particulars which each succeeding
Evangelist gives, rest on historical information which he possessed
over and above that of his predecessors.

While the synoptists represent the interment of Jesus as being
performed by Joseph alone, with no other beholders than the women,
John, as we have observed, introduces Nicodemus as an assistant; a
particular, the authenticity of which has been already considered in
connexion with the first appearance of Nicodemus. [2035] This
individual brings spices for the purpose of embalming Jesus; a mixture
of myrrh and aloes, in the quantity of about a hundred pounds. In vain
have commentators laboured to withdraw from the word λίτρα, which John
here uses, the signification of the Latin libra, and to substitute a
smaller weight: [2036] the above surprising quantity is, however,
satisfactorily accounted for by the remark of Olshausen, that the
superfluity was a natural expression of the veneration of those men for
Jesus. In the fourth gospel the two men perform the office of embalming
immediately after the taking down of the body from the cross, winding
it in linen clothes after the Jewish practice; in Luke the women, on
their return home from the grave of Jesus, provide spices and
ointments, in order to commence the embalming after the sabbath (xxiii.
56, xxiv. 1); in Mark they do not buy the sweet spices ἀρώματα until
the sabbath is past (xvi. 1); while in Matthew there is no mention of
an embalming of the body of Jesus, but only of its being wrapped in a
clean linen cloth (xxvii. 59).

Here it has been thought possible to reconcile the difference between
Mark and Luke in relation to the time of the purchase of the spices, by
drawing over one of the two narrators to the side of the other. It
appeared the most easy to accommodate Mark to Luke by the supposition
of an enallage temporum; his verb ἠγόρασαν, they bought, used in
connexion with the day after the sabbath, being taken as the
pluperfect, and understood to imply, in accordance with the statement
of Luke, that the women had the spices in readiness from the evening of
the burial. [2037] But against this reconciliation it has already been
remarked with triumphant indignation by the Fragmentist, that the
aorist, standing between a determination of time and the statement of
an object, cannot possibly signify anything else than what happened at
that time in relation to that object, and thus the words ἠγόρασαν
ἀρώματα, they bought sweet spices, placed between διαγενομένου τοῦ
σαββάτου, The sabbath being past, and ἵνα ἐλθοῦσαι ἀλείψωσιν αὐτὸν,
that they might come and anoint him, can only signify a purchase made
after the sabbath had elapsed. [2038] Hence Michaelis, who undertook to
vindicate the histories of the burial and resurrection from the charge
of contradiction urged by the Fragmentist, betook himself to the
opposite measure, and sought to conform Luke to Mark. When Luke writes:
ὑποστρέψασαι δὲ ἡτοίμασαν ἀρώματα καὶ μύρα, and they returned, and
bought sweet spices and ointments, he does not, we are told, mean that
they had made this purchase immediately after their return, and
consequently on the evening of the burial: on the contrary, by the
addition καὶ τὸ μὲν σάββατον ἡσύχασαν κατὰ τὴν ἐντολὴν, and rested the
sabbath day, according to the commandment, he himself gives us to
understand that it did not happen until the sabbath was past, since
between their return from the grave and the commencement of the sabbath
at six in the evening, there was no time left for the purchase. [2039]
But when Luke places his ἡτοίμασαν (they prepared) between ὑποστρέψασαι
(being returned) and ἡσύχασαν (they rested), this can as little signify
something occurring after the rest of the sabbath, as in Mark the
similarly placed word ἠγόρασαν can signify something which had happened
before the sabbath. Hence more recent theologians have perceived that
each of these two Evangelists must be allowed to retain the direct
sense of his words; nevertheless they have believed it possible to free
both the one and the other from the appearance of error by the
supposition that the spices prepared before the sabbath were not
sufficient, and that the women, agreeably to Mark’s statement, really
bought an additional stock after the sabbath. [2040] But there must
have been an enormous requirement of spices if first the hundred pounds
weight contributed by Nicodemus had not sufficed, and on this account
the women on the evening before the sabbath had laid ready more spices,
and then these too were found insufficient, so that they had to buy yet
more on the morning after the sabbath.

Thus however, in consistency, it is necessary to solve the second
contradiction which exists between the two intermediate Evangelists
unitedly and the fourth, namely, that according to the latter Jesus was
embalmed with a hundred weight of ointment before being laid in the
grave, while according to the former the embalming was deferred until
after the sabbath. But as far as the quantity was concerned, the
hundred pounds of myrrh and aloes were more than enough: that which was
wanting, and had to be supplied after the sabbath, could only relate to
the manner, i.e. that the spices had not yet been applied to the body
in the right way—because the process had been interrupted by the
arrival of the sabbath. [2041] But, if we listen to John, the interment
of Jesus on the evening of his death was performed καθὼς ἔθος ἐστὶ τοῖς
Ἰουδαίοις ἐνταφιάζειν, as the manner of the Jews is to bury, i.e. ritè,
in due form, the corpse being wound in the linen clothes ὀθόνια with
the spices μετὰ τῶν ἀρωμάτων (v. 40), which constituted the whole of
Jewish embalming, so that according to John nothing was wanting in
relation to the manner; [2042] not to mention that if the women, as
Mark and Luke state, bought fresh spices and placed them in readiness,
the embalming of Nicodemus must have been defective as to quantity
also. Thus in the burial of Jesus as narrated by John nothing objective
was wanting: nevertheless, it has been maintained that subjectively, as
regarded the women, it had not been performed, i.e. they were ignorant
that Jesus had already been embalmed by Nicodemus and Joseph. [2043]
One is astonished that such a position can be advanced, since the
synoptists expressly state that the women were present at the interment
of Jesus, and beheld, not merely the place (ποῦ τίθεται, Mark), but
also the manner in which he was interred (ὡς ἐτέθη, Luke).

There is a third divergency relative to this point between Matthew and
the rest of the Evangelists, in so far as the former mentions no
embalming either before or after the sabbath. This divergency, as it
consists merely in the silence of one narrator, has been hitherto
little regarded, and even the Fragmentist admits that the wrapping of
the body in a clean linen cloth, mentioned by Matthew, involves also
the Jewish method of embalming. But in this instance there might easily
be drawn an argument ex silentio. When we read in the narrative of the
anointing at Bethany the declaration of Jesus, that the woman by this
deed had anointed his body for burial (Matt. xxvi. 12 parall.): this
has indeed its significance in all the narratives, but a peculiarly
striking one in Matthew, according to whose subsequent narrative no
anointing took place at the burial of Jesus, [2044] and this fact
appears to be the only sufficient explanation of the special importance
which the Evangelical tradition attached to the action of the woman. If
he who was revered as the Messiah did not, under the pressure of
unfavourable circumstances, receive at his burial the due honour of
embalmment: then must the thoughts of his adherents revert with
peculiar complacency to an event in the latter part of his life, in
which a humble-minded female votary, as if foreboding that this honour
would be denied to him when dead, rendered it to him while yet living.
Viewed in this light the different representation of the anointing in
the other Evangelists would have the appearance of a gradual
development of the legend. In Mark and Luke it still remains, as in
Matthew, that the corpse of Jesus is not really embalmed: but, said the
legend, already outstepping the narrative of the first gospel, the
embalming was designed for him,—this intention was the motive for the
resort of the women to his grave on the morning after the sabbath, and
its execution was only prevented by the resurrection. In the fourth
gospel, on the other hand, this anointing, from being first performed
on him by anticipation while he was yet living, and then intended for
him when dead, resolved itself into an actual embalming of his body
after death: in conjunction with which, however, after the manner of
legendary formations, the reference of the earlier anointing to the
burial of Jesus was left standing.

The body of Jesus, according to all the narrators, was forthwith
deposited in a tomb hewn out of a rock, and closed with a great stone.
Matthew describes this tomb as καινὸν, new; an epithet which Luke and
John more closely determine by stating that no man had yet been laid
therein. We may observe in passing, that there is as much reason for
suspicion with respect to this newness of the grave, as with respect to
the unridden ass in the history of the entrance of Jesus, since here in
the same way as there, the temptation lay irresistibly near, even
without historical grounds, to represent the sacred receptacle of the
body of Jesus as never having been polluted by any corpse. But even in
relation to this tomb the Evangelists exhibit a divergency. According
to Matthew it was the property of Joseph, who had himself caused it to
be hewn in the rock; and the two other synoptists also, since they make
Joseph unhesitatingly dispose of the grave, appear to proceed on the
same presupposition. According to John, on the contrary, Joseph’s right
of property in the grave was not the reason that Jesus was laid there;
but because time pressed, he was deposited in the new sepulchre, which
happened to be in a neighbouring garden. Here again the harmonists have
tried their art on both sides. Matthew was to be brought into agreement
with John by the observation, that a manuscript of his gospel omits the
αὑτοῦ (his own) after μνημείῳ; while an ancient translation read,
instead of ὃ ἐλατόμησεν (which he had hewn),—ὃ ἦν λελατομημένον (which
was hewn): [2045] as if these alterations were not obviously owing
already to harmonizing efforts. Hence the opposite side has been taken,
and it has been remarked that the words of John by no means exclude the
possibility that Joseph may have been the owner of the tomb, since both
reasons—the vicinity, and the fact that the grave belonged to
Joseph—may have co-operated. [2046] But the contrary is rather the
truth: namely, that the vicinity of the grave when alleged as a motive,
excludes the fact of possession: a house in which I should take shelter
from a shower, because it is near, would not be my own; unless indeed I
were the owner of two houses, one near and one more distant, of which
the latter was my proper dwelling: and in like manner a grave, in which
a person lays a relative or friend who does not himself possess one,
because it is near, cannot be his own, unless he possess more than one,
and intend at greater leisure to convey the deceased into the other;
which however in our case, since the near grave was from its newness
adapted above all others for the interment of Jesus, is not easily
conceivable. If according to this the contradiction subsists, there
does not appear in the narratives themselves any ground for decision in
favour of the one or of the other. [2047]

§ 136.

THE WATCH AT THE GRAVE OF JESUS.

On the following day, the Sabbath, [2048] the chief priests and
Pharisees, according to Matthew (xxvii. 62 ff.) came to Pilate, and
with reference to the prediction of Jesus, that he should rise again
after three days, requested him to place a watch by his grave, lest his
disciples should take occasion from the expectation which that
prediction had awakened, to steal his body and then spread a report
that he was risen again. Pilate granted their request, and accordingly
they went away, sealed the stone, and placed the watch before the
grave. The subsequent resurrection of Jesus (we must here anticipate so
far), and the angelic appearances which accompanied it, so terrified
the guards, that they became as dead men, ὡσεὶ νεκροὶ,—forthwith,
however, hastened to the city and gave an account of the event to the
chief priests. The latter after having deliberated on the subject in an
assembly with the elders, bribed the soldiers to pretend that the
disciples had stolen the body by night; whence, the narrator adds, this
report was disseminated, and was persisted in up to his time (xxviii.
4, 11 ff.).

In this narrative, peculiar to the first gospel, critics have found all
kinds of difficulties, which have been exposed with the most acumen by
the author of the Wolfenbüttel Fragments, and after him by Paulus.
[2049] The difficulties lie first of all in this: that neither the
requisite conditions of the event, nor its necessary consequences, are
presented in the rest of the New Testament history. As regards the
former, it is not to be conceived how the Sanhedrists could obtain the
information, that Jesus was to return to life three days after his
death: since there is no trace of such an idea having existed even
among his disciples. They say: We remember that that deceiver said,
while he was yet alive, etc. If we are to understand from this that
they remembered to have heard him speak to that effect; Jesus,
according to the evangelical accounts, never spoke plainly of his
resurrection in the presence of his enemies; and the figurative
discourses which remained unintelligible to his confidential disciples,
could still less be understood by the Jewish hierarchs, who were less
accustomed to his mode of thought and expression. If, however, the
Sanhedrists merely intend to say, that they had heard from others of
his having given such a promise: this intelligence could only have
proceeded from the disciples; but as these had not, either before or
after the death of Jesus, the slightest anticipation of his
resurrection, they could not have excited such an anticipation in
others;—not to mention that we have been obliged to reject as
unhistorical the whole of the predictions of the resurrection lent to
Jesus in the gospels. Equally incomprehensible with this knowledge on
the part of the enemies of Jesus, is the silence of his friends, the
Apostles and the other Evangelists besides Matthew, concerning a
circumstance so favourable to their cause. It is certainly applying too
modern a standard to the conduct of the disciples to say with the
Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, that they must have entreated from Pilate a
letter under his seal in attestation of the fact that a watch had been
set over the grave: but it must be held surprising that in none of the
apostolic speeches is there anywhere an appeal to so striking a fact,
and that even in the gospels, with the exception of the first, it has
left no discoverable trace. An attempt has been made to explain this
silence from the consideration, that the bribing of the guards by the
Sanhedrim had rendered an appeal to them fruitless: [2050] but truth is
not so readily surrendered to such obvious falsehoods, and at all
events, when the adherents of Jesus had to defend themselves before the
Sanhedrim, the mention of such a fact must have been a powerful weapon.
The cause is already half given up when its advocates retreat to the
position, that the disciples probably did not become acquainted with
the true cause of the event immediately, but only later, when the
soldiers began to betray the secret. [2051] For even if the guards in
the first instance merely set afloat the tale of the theft, and thus
admitted that they had been placed by the grave, the adherents of Jesus
could already construe for themselves the real state of the case, and
might boldly appeal to the guards, who must have been witnesses of
something quite different from the theft of a corpse. But lest we be
told of the invalidity of an argument drawn from the merely negative
fact of silence, there is something positive narrated concerning a part
of the adherents of Jesus, namely, the women, which is not reconcilable
with the fact of a watch being placed at the grave. Not only do the
women who resort to the grave on the morning after the Sabbath, intend
to complete the embalming which they could not hope to be permitted to
do, if they knew that a watch was placed before the grave, and that
this was besides sealed: [2052] but according to Mark their whole
perplexity on their way to the grave turns upon the question, who will
roll away the stone for them from the grave; a clear proof that they
knew nothing of the guards, since these either would not have allowed
them to remove the stone, however light, or if they would have allowed
this, would also have helped them to roll away a heavier one; so that
in any case the difficulty as to the weight of the stone would have
been superfluous. But that the placing of the watch should have
remained unknown to the women is, from the attention which everything
relative to the end of Jesus excited in Jerusalem (Luke xxiv. 18),
highly improbable.

But within the narrative also, every feature is full of difficulties,
for, according to the expression of Paulus, no one of the persons who
appear in it, acts in accordance with his character. That Pilate should
have granted the request of the Jewish magistrates for a watch, I will
not say without hesitation, but so entirely without ridicule, must be
held surprising after his previous conduct; [2053] such minor
particulars might however be merely passed over by Matthew in his
summary mode of recounting the incidents. It is more astonishing that
the guards should have been so easily induced to tell a falsehood which
the severity of Roman discipline made so dangerous, as that they had
failed in their duty by sleeping on their post; especially as, from the
bad understanding which existed between the Sanhedrim and the
procurator, they could not know how far the mediation promised by the
former would avail. But the most inconceivable feature is the alleged
conduct of the Sanhedrim. The difficulty which lies in their going to
the heathen procurator on the Sabbath, defiling themselves by
approaching the grave, and placing a watch, has certainly been
overstrained by the Fragmentist; but their conduct, when the guards,
returning from the grave, apprised them of the resurrection of Jesus,
is truly impossible. They believe the assertion of the soldiers that
Jesus had arisen out of his grave in a miraculous manner. How could the
council, many of whose members were Sadducees, receive this as
credible? Even the Pharisees in the Sanhedrim, though they held in
theory the possibility of a resurrection, would not, with the mean
opinion which they entertained of Jesus, be inclined to believe in his
resurrection; especially as the assertion in the mouth of the guards
sounded just like a falsehood invented to screen a failure in duty. The
real Sanhedrists, on hearing such an assertion from the soldiers, would
have replied with exasperation: You lie! you have slept and allowed him
to be stolen; but you will have to pay dearly for this, when it comes
to be investigated by the procurator. But instead of this, the
Sanhedrists in our gospel speak them fair, and entreat them thus: Tell
a lie, say that you have slept and allowed him to be stolen: moreover,
they pay them richly for the falsehood, and promise to exculpate them
to the procurator. This is evidently spoken entirely on the Christian
presupposition of the reality of the resurrection of Jesus; a
presupposition however which is quite incorrectly attributed to the
members of the Sanhedrim. It is also a difficulty, not merely searched
out by the Fragmentist, but even acknowledged by orthodox expositors,
[2054] that the Sanhedrim, in a regular assembly, and after a formal
consultation, should have resolved to corrupt the soldiers and put a
lie into their mouths. That in this manner a college of seventy men
should have officially decided on suggesting and rewarding the
utterance of a falsehood, is, as Olshausen justly observes, too widely
at variance with the decorum, the sense of propriety, inseparable from
such an assembly. The expedient of supposing that it was merely a
private meeting, since only the chief priests and elders, not the
scribes, are said to have embraced the resolution of bribing the
soldiers, [2055] would involve the singularity, that in this assembly
the scribes were absent, while in the shortly previous interview with
the procurator, where the scribes are represented by the Pharisees who
formed their majority, the elders were wanting: whence it is evident
rather that, it being inconvenient invariably to designate the
Sanhedrim by a full enumeration of its constituent parts, it was not
seldom indicated by the mention of only some or one of these. If it
therefore remains that according to Matthew the high council must in a
formal session have resolved on bribing the guards: such an act of
baseness could only be attributed to the council as such, by the
rancour of the primitive Christians, among whom our anecdote arose.

These difficulties in the present narrative of the first gospel have
been felt to be so pressing, that it has been attempted to remove them
by the supposition of interpolation; [2056] which has lately been
moderated into the opinion, that while the anecdote did not indeed
proceed from the Apostle Matthew himself it was not however added by a
hand otherwise alien to our gospel, but was inserted by the Greek
translator of the Hebrew Matthew. [2057] Against the former supposition
the absence of all critical authority is decisive; the appeal of those
who advance the other opinion to the unapostolic character of the
anecdote, would not warrant its separation from the context of the main
narrative, unless that narrative itself were already proved to be of
apostolic origin; while the anecdote is so far from presenting any want
of connexion with the rest, that, on the contrary, Paulus is right in
his remark that an interpolator (or inserting translator) would
scarcely have given himself the trouble to distribute his interpolation
in three different places (xxvii. 62–66; xxviii. 4, 11–15), but would
have compressed it into one passage, or at most two. Neither can the
question be settled so cheaply as Olshausen imagines, when he concludes
that the entire narrative is apostolic and correct, save that the
Evangelist erred in representing the corruption of the guards as being
resolved on in full council, whereas the affair was probably managed in
secret by Caiaphas alone: as if this assembly of the council were the
sole difficulty of the narrative, and as if, when errors had insinuated
themselves in relation to this particular, they might not extend to
others also. [2058]

Paulus correctly points out how Matthew himself, by the statement: and
this saying is commonly reported among the Jews to this day,—indicates
a calumnious Jewish report as the source of his narrative. But when
this theologian expresses the opinion that the Jews themselves
propagated the story, that they had placed a watch at the grave of
Jesus, but that the guards had permitted his body to be stolen: this is
as perverted a view as that of Hase, when he conjectures that the
report in question proceeded first of all from the friends of Jesus,
and was afterwards modified by his enemies. For as regards the former
supposition, Kuinöl has already correctly remarked, that Matthew merely
designates the assertion respecting the theft of the corpse as a Jewish
report, not the entire narrative of the placing of a watch; neither is
there any reason to be conceived why the Jews should have fabricated
such a report as that a watch was set at the grave of Jesus: Paulus
says, it was hoped thereby to render the assertion that the body of
Jesus was stolen by his disciples more easy of acceptation with the
credulous: but those must indeed have been very credulous who did not
observe, that the placing of the watch was the very thing to render a
furtive removal of the body of Jesus improbable. Paulus appears to
represent the matter to himself thus: the Jews wished to obtain
witnesses as it were to the accusation of a theft, and for this purpose
fabricated the story of the guard being placed by the grave. But that
the guards with open eyes quietly beheld the disciples of Jesus carry
away his body, no one could credit: while, if they saw nothing of this,
because they slept, they gave no testimony, since they could then only
by inference arrive at the conclusion, that the body might have been
stolen: a conclusion which could be drawn just as well without them.
Thus in no way can the watch have belonged to the Jewish basis of the
present narrative; but the report disseminated among the Jews
consisted, as the text also says, merely in the assertion that the
disciples had stolen the body. As the Christians wished to oppose this
calumny, there was formed among them the legend of a watch placed at
the grave of Jesus, and now they could boldly confront their slanderers
with the question: how can the body have been carried away, since you
placed a watch at the grave and sealed the stone? And because, as we
have ourselves proved in the course of our inquiry, a legend is not
fully convicted of groundlessness until it has been shown how it could
arise even without historical grounds: it was attempted on the side of
the Christians, in showing what was supposed to be the true state of
the case, to expose also the origin of the false legend, by deriving
the falsehood propagated among the Jews from the contrivance of the
Sanhedrim, and their corruption of the guards. Thus the truth is
precisely the reverse of what Hase says, namely, that the legend
probably arose among the friends of Jesus and was modified by his
enemies:—the friends first had an inducement to the fiction of the
watch, when the enemies had already spoken of a theft. [2059]

§ 137.

FIRST TIDINGS OF THE RESURRECTION.

That the first news of the grave of Jesus being opened and empty on the
second morning after his burial, came to the disciples by the mouth of
women, is unanimously stated by the four Evangelists: but in all the
more particular circumstances they diverge from each other, in a way
which has presented the richest material for the polemic of the
Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, and on the other hand has given abundant work
to the harmonists and apologists, without there having been hitherto
any successful attempt at a satisfactory mediation between the two
parties. [2060]

Leaving behind the difference which is connected with the divergencies
in the history of the burial, as to the object of the women in
resorting to the grave,—namely, that according to the two intermediate
Evangelists they intended to embalm the body of Jesus, according to the
two others merely to pay a visit to the grave,—we find, first, a very
complicated divergency relative to the number of the women who made
this visit. Luke merely speaks indefinitely of many women; not alone
those whom he describes xxiii. 55, as having come with Jesus from
Galilee, and of whom he mentions by name, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and
Mary the mother of James, but also certain others with them, τινὲς σὺν
αὐταῖς (xxiv. 1). Mark has merely three women; two of those whom Luke
also names, but as the third, Salome instead of Joanna (xvi. 1).
Matthew has not this third woman, respecting whom the two intermediate
Evangelists differ, but merely the two Maries concerning whom they
agree (xxviii. 1). Lastly, John has only one of these, Mary Magdalene
(xx. 1). The time at which the women go to the grave is likewise not
determined with uniformity; for even if the words of Matthew, In the
end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the
week, ὀψὲ σαββάτων, τῂ ἐπιφωσκούσῃ εἰς μίαν σαββάτων, make no
difference, [2061] still the addition of Mark: at the rising of the
sun, ἀνατείλαντος τοῦ ἡλίου, are in contradiction with the expressions
when it was yet dark, σκοτίας ἔτι οὔσης, in John, and very early in the
morning, ὄρθρου βαθέος, in Luke.—In relation to the circumstances in
which the women first saw the grave there may appear to be a
difference, at least between Matthew and the three other Evangelists.
According to the latter, as they approach and look towards the grave,
they see that the stone has already been rolled away by an unknown
hand: whereas the narrative of the first Evangelist has appeared to
many to imply that the women themselves beheld the stone rolled away by
an angel.—Manifold are the divergencies as to what the women further
saw and learned at the grave. According to Luke they enter into the
grave, find that the body of Jesus is not there, and are hence in
perplexity, until they see standing by them two men in shining
garments, who announce to them his resurrection. In Mark, who also
makes them enter into the grave, they see only one young man in a long
white garment, not standing, but sitting on the right side, who gives
them the same intelligence. In Matthew they receive this information
before they enter into the grave, from the angel, who after rolling
away the stone had sat upon it. Lastly, according to John, Mary
Magdalene, as soon as she sees the stone taken away, and without
witnessing any angelic appearance, runs back into the city.—Moreover
the relation in which the disciples of Jesus are placed with respect to
the first news of his resurrection is a different one in the different
gospels. According to Mark, the women, out of fear, tell no one of the
angelic appearance which they have beheld; according to John, Mary
Magdalene has nothing more to say to John and Peter, to whom she
hastens from the grave, than that Jesus is taken away; according to
Luke, the women report the appearance to the disciples in general, and
not merely to two of them; while according to Matthew, as they were in
the act of hastening to the disciples, Jesus himself met them, and they
were able to communicate this also to the disciples. In the two first
gospels nothing is said of one of the disciples himself going to the
grave on hearing the report of the women; according to Luke, Peter went
thither, found it empty and returned wondering, and from Luke xxiv. 24
it appears that other disciples besides him went thither in a similar
manner; according to the fourth gospel Peter was accompanied by John,
who on this occasion was convinced of the resurrection of Jesus. Luke
says that Peter made his visit to the sepulchre after he had already
been informed by the women of the angelic appearance; but in the fourth
gospel the two disciples go to the grave before Mary Magdalene can have
told them of such an appearance; it was only when she had proceeded a
second time to the grave with the two disciples, and when they had
returned home again, that, stooping into the sepulchre, she saw,
according to this gospel, two angels in white, sitting, the one at the
head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain, by
whom she was asked, why she wept? and on turning round she beheld Jesus
himself; a particular of which there is a fragmentary notice in Mark v.
9, with the additional remark, that she communicated this news to his
former companions.

It has been thought possible to reconcile the greater part of these
divergencies by supposing, instead of one scene variously described, a
multiplicity of different scenes; for which purpose the ordinary
grammatical and other artifices of the harmonists were pressed into the
service. That Mark might not contradict the σκοτίας ἔτι οὔσης while it
was yet dark of John, the apologists did not scruple to translate the
words ἀνατείλαντος τοῦ ἡλίου by orituro sole; [2062] the contradiction
between Matthew and the rest, when the former appears to say that the
women saw the stone rolled away by the angel, seemed to be more easy of
solution, not indeed by supposing, with Michaelis, [2063] that καὶ ἰδοὺ
(and behold!) denotes a recurrence to a previous event, and that
ἀπεκύλισε has the signification of a pluperfect (an expedient which has
been justly combated by modern criticism in opposition to Lessing, who
was inclined to admit it); [2064] but by understanding the ἦλθε v. 1 to
express a yet unfinished progress of the women towards the grave, in
which case the καὶ ἰδοὺ and what follows may, in accordance with its
proper meaning, relate something that happened after the departure of
the women from their home, but before their arrival at the grave.
[2065] In relation to the number and the visit of the women, it was in
the first place urged that even according to John, although he mentions
only Mary Magdalene by name,—several women must have accompanied her to
the grave, since he makes her say after her return to the two
disciples: we know not where they have laid him; [2066] a plural, which
certainly intimates the presence of other but unspecified persons, with
whom Mary Magdalene, whether at the grave itself or on her return, had
conversed on the subject before she came to the Apostles. Thus, it is
said, Mary Magdalene went to the grave with the other women, more or
fewer of whom are mentioned by the other Evangelists. As however she
returned without having, like the other women, seen an angel, it is
supposed that she ran back alone as soon as she saw the stone rolled
away: which is accounted for by her impetuous temperament, she having
been formerly a demoniac. [2067] While she hastened back to the city,
the other women saw the appearances of which the synoptists speak.—To
all it is maintained, the angels appeared within the grave; for the
statement in Matthew that one sat outside on the stone, is only a
pluperfect: when the women came he had already withdrawn into the
sepulchre, and accordingly, after their conversation with him, the
women are described as departing from the sepulchre, ἐξελθοῦσαι ἐκ τοῦ
μνημείου (v. 8): [2068] in which observation it is only overlooked that
between the first address of the angel and the above expression, there
stands his invitation to the women to come with him into the grave and
see the place where Jesus had lain. In relation to the difference that
according to the two first Evangelists the women see only one angel,
according to the third, two, even Calvin resorts to the miserable
expedient of supposing a synecdoche, namely that all the Evangelists
certainly knew of two angels, but Matthew and Mark mention only the one
who acted as speaker. Others make different women see different
appearances: some, of whom Matthew and Mark speak, seeing only one
angel; the others, to whom Luke refers, and who came earlier or perhaps
later than the above, seeing two; [2069] but Luke makes the same two
Maries who, according to his predecessors, had seen only one angel,
narrate to the Apostles an appearance of two angels. It is also said
that the women returned in separate groups, so that Jesus might meet
those of whom Matthew speaks without being seen by those of Luke; and
though those of Mark at first tell no one from fear, the rest, and they
themselves afterwards, might communicate what they had seen to the
disciples. [2070]—On hearing the report brought by several women,
Peter, according to Luke, straightway goes to the grave, finds it empty
and turns away wondering. But according to the hypothesis which we are
now detailing, Mary Magdalene had run back a considerable time before
the other women, and had brought with her to the grave Peter and John.
Thus Peter, first on hearing the imperfect intelligence of Mary
Magdalene that the grave was empty, must have gone thither with John;
and subsequently, on the account of the angelic appearance brought by
the other women, he must have gone a second time alone: in which case
it would be particularly surprising that while his companion arrived at
a belief in the resurrection of Jesus on the very first visit, he
himself had not attained further than wonder even on the second.
Besides, as the Fragmentist has already ably shown, the narrative in
the third gospel of the visit of Peter alone, and that in the fourth of
the visit of Peter and John, are so strikingly similar even in words,
[2071] that the majority of commentators regard them as referring to a
single visit, Luke having only omitted to notice the companion of
Peter: in support of which opinion they can appeal to Luke xxiv. 24.
But if the visit of the two Apostles, occasioned by the return of Mary
Magdalene, be one and the same with that occasioned by the return of
the other women, then the return of the women is also not a double one;
if however they returned in company with each other, we have a
contradiction. After the two Apostles are returned without having seen
an angel, Mary, who remains behind, as she looks into the grave, all at
once sees two. What a strange playing at hide and seek must there have
been on the part of the angels, according to the harmonistic
combination of these narratives! First only one shows himself to one
group of women, to another group two show themselves; both forthwith
conceal themselves from the disciples; but after their departure both
again become visible. To remove these intermissions Paulus has placed
the appearance presented to Mary Magdalene before the arrival of the
two disciples: but by this violent transposition of the order chosen by
the narrator, he has only confessed the impossibility of thus
incorporating the various Evangelists with each other. Hereupon, as
Mary Magdalene raises herself from looking into the grave and turns
round, she sees Jesus standing behind her. According to Matthew, Jesus
appeared to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, when they had already
set out on their way to the city, consequently when they were at some
distance from the grave. Thus Jesus would have first appeared to Mary
Magdalene alone, close to the grave, and a second time when she was on
her way from thence, in the company of another woman. In order to avoid
the want of purpose attaching to the repetition of an appearance of
Jesus after so short an interval, commentators have here called in the
above supposition, that Mary Magdalene had previously separated herself
from the women of whom Matthew speaks: [2072] but in that case, since
Matthew has besides Mary Magdalene only the other Mary, it would have
been only one woman to whom Jesus appeared on the way from the grave:
whereas Matthew throughout speaks of several (ἀπήντησεν αὐταῖς).

To escape from this restless running to and fro of the disciples and
the women, this phantasmagoric appearance, disappearance, and
reappearance of the angels, and the useless repetition of the
appearances of Jesus before the same person, which result from this
harmonistic method, we must consider each Evangelist by himself: we
then obtain from each a quiet picture with simple dignified features;
one visit of the women to the grave, or according to John, two; one
angelic appearance; one appearance of Jesus, according to John and
Matthew; and one visit to the grave by one or two of the disciples,
according to Luke and John.

But with the above difficulties of the harmonistic method of
incorporation as to the substance, there is associated a difficulty as
to form, in the question, how comes it, under the presuppositions of
this mode of viewing the gospels, that from the entire series of
occurrences, each narrator has selected a separate portion for
himself,—that of the many visits and appearances not one Evangelist
relates all, and scarcely one the same as his neighbour, but for the
most part each has chosen only one for representation, and each again a
different one? The most plausible answer to this question has been
given by Griesbach in a special treatise on this subject. [2073] He
supposes that each Evangelist recounts the resurrection of Jesus in the
manner in which it first, became known to him: John received the first
information from Mary Magdalene, and hence he narrates only what he
learned from her; to Matthew (for without doubt the disciples, as
strangers visiting the feast, resided in different quarters of the
city), the first news was communicated by those women to whom Jesus
himself appeared on their way from the grave, and hence he relates only
what these had experienced. But here this explanation already founders
on the facts, that in Matthew, of the women who see Jesus on their way
homeward, Mary Magdalene is one; and that in John, Mary Magdalene,
after her second visit to the grave, in which Jesus appeared to her, no
longer went to John and Peter alone, but to the disciples in general,
and communicated to them the appearance she had seen and the commission
she had received: so that Matthew in any case must also have known of
the appearance of Jesus to Mary Magdalene. [2074] Further, when,
according to this hypothesis, Mark narrates the history of the
resurrection as he had learned it in the house of his mother who lived
in Jerusalem (Acts xii. 12); Luke, as he had received it from Joanna,
whom he alone mentions: we cannot but wonder at the tenacity with
which, according to this, each must have clung to the narrative which
he had happened first to receive, since the resurrection of Jesus must
have been the subject of all others on which there was the most lively
interchange of narratives among his adherents, so that the ideas
concerning the first tidings of the event must have found their level.
To remove these difficulties, Griesbach has further supposed, that the
disciples had it in their intention to compare the discordant accounts
of the women and reduce them to order; when, however, the resuscitated
Jesus himself appeared in the midst of them, they neglected this,
because they now no longer founded their faith on the assertions of the
women, but on the appearances which they had themselves witnessed: but
the more the information of the women fell into the background, the
less conceivable is it, how in the sequel each could so obstinately
cling to what this or that woman had chanced first to communicate to
him.

If then the plan of incorporation will not lead to the desired end,
[2075] we must try that of selection, and inquire whether we must not
adhere to one of the four accounts, as pre-eminently apostolic, and by
this rectify the others; in which inquiry here as elsewhere, from the
essential equality of the external evidence, only the internal
character of the separate narratives can decide.

From the number of those accounts concerning the first intelligence of
the resurrection of Jesus which have any claim to the rank of
autoptical testimonies, modern criticism has excluded that of the first
gospel; [2076] and we cannot, as in other instances, complain of this
disfavour as an injustice. For in many respects the narrative of the
first gospel here betrays itself to have been carried a step farther in
traditional development than that of the other gospels. First, that the
miraculous opening of the grave is seen by the women—if indeed Matthew
intends to say this—could scarcely, had it really been the case, have
been so entirely lost from remembrance as it is in the other
Evangelists, but might very well be formed gradually in tradition;
further, that the rolling away of the stone was effected by the angel,
evidently rests only on the combination of one who did not know any
better means of answering the question, how the great stone was removed
from the grave, and the guards taken out of the way, than to use for
both purposes the angel presented to him in the current narratives of
the appearance witnessed by the women; to which he added the earthquake
as a further embellishment of the scene. But besides this, there is in
the narrative of Matthew yet another trait, which has anything but an
historical aspect. After the angel has already announced the
resurrection of Jesus to the women, and charged them to deliver to the
disciples the message that they should go into Galilee, where they
would see the risen one: Jesus himself meets them and repeats the
message which they are to deliver to the disciples. This is a singular
superfluity. Jesus had nothing to add to the purport of the message
which the angel had given to the women; hence he could only wish to
confirm it and render it more authentic. But to the women it needed no
further confirmation, for they were already filled with great joy by
the tidings of the angel, and thus were believing; while for the
disciples even that confirmation did not suffice, for they remained
incredulous even to the account of those who assured them that they had
seen Jesus, until they had seen him themselves. Thus it appears that
two different narrations, as to the first news of the resurrection,
have here become entangled with each other; the one representing
angels, the other Jesus himself, as the medium by which the women were
informed of the event and sent with a message to the disciples:—the
latter evidently the later tradition.

The pre-eminence in originality denied to the narrative of Matthew, is
here as elsewhere awarded to that of John. Traits so characteristic,
says Lücke, as that on the visit to the grave the other disciple went
faster than Peter and came to the spot before him, attest the
authenticity of the gospel even to the most sceptical. But the matter
has yet another aspect. It has been already remarked, at an earlier
point of our inquiry, that this particular belongs to the effort, which
the fourth gospel exhibits in a peculiar manner, to place John above
Peter. [2077] We may now discuss the point with more particularity, by
comparing the account in Luke already mentioned of the visit of Peter
to the grave, with the account in the fourth gospel of the visit of the
two disciples. According to Luke (xxiv. 12), Peter runs to the grave:
according to John (xx. 3 ff.), Peter and the favourite disciple go
together, but so that the latter runs faster, and comes first to the
grave. In the third gospel, Peter stoops down, looks into the
sepulchre, and sees the linen clothes: in the fourth, John does this,
and sees the same. In the third gospel, nothing is said of an entering
into the grave: but the fourth makes Peter enter first, and look more
closely at the linen clothes, then John also, and the latter with the
result that he begins to believe in the resurrection of Jesus. [2078]
That in these two narratives we have one and the same incident, has
been above shown probable from their similarity even in the
expressions. Thus the only question is: which is the original
narrative, the one nearest to the fact? If that of John: then must his
name have been gradually lost out of the narrative in the course of
tradition, and the visit to the grave ascribed to Peter only; which,
since the importance of Peter threw all others into the shade, is
easily conceivable. We might rest contented with this conclusion,
regarding these two parallel narratives by themselves: but in connexion
with the whole suspicious position which the fourth gospel assigns to
John in relation to Peter, the contrary relation of the two narratives
must here again be held the more probable. As in the entrance into the
high priest’s palace, so in the visit to the grave of Jesus, only in
the fourth gospel is John given as a companion to Peter; as in the
former case it is he who gains an entrance for Peter, so in the latter
he runs before him and casts the first glance into the grave, a
circumstance which is repeatedly mentioned. That afterwards Peter is
the first to enter into the grave, is only an apparent advantage, which
is allowed him out of deference to the common idea of his position: for
after him John also enters, and with a result of which Peter could not
boast, namely, that he believed in the resurrection of Jesus, and thus
was the first who attained to that degree of faith. From this effort to
make John the first-born among the believers in the resurrection of
Jesus may also be explained the divergency, that according to the
narrative of the fourth gospel alone, Mary Magdalene hastens back to
the two disciples before she has yet seen an angel. For had she
beforehand witnessed an angelic appearance, which she would not any
more than the women in Matthew have mistrusted, she would have been the
first believer, and would have won the precedence of John in this
respect; but this is avoided by representing her as coming to the two
disciples immediately after perceiving the emptiness of the grave, and
under the disquietude excited in her by this circumstance. This
presupposition serves also to explain why the fourth gospel makes the
woman returning from the grave go, not to the disciples in general, but
only to Peter and John. As, namely, the intelligence which, according
to the original narrative, was brought to all the disciples,
occasioned, according to Luke, only Peter to go to the grave, and as
moreover, according to Mark (v. 7), the message of the women was
destined more especially for Peter: the idea might easily be formed,
that the news came to this disciple alone, with whom the object of the
fourth Evangelist would then require that he should associate John.
Only after the two disciples had come to the grave, and his John had
attained faith, could the author of the fourth gospel introduce the
appearances of the angel and of Jesus himself, which were said to have
been granted to the women. That instead of these collectively he names
only Mary Magdalene—although as has been earlier remarked, he xx. 2
presupposes at least a subsequent meeting between her and other
women—this might certainly, under other circumstances, be regarded as
the original representation, whence the synoptical one arose by a
process of generalization: but it might just as well be the case that
the other women, being less known, were eclipsed by Mary Magdalene. The
description of the scene between her and Jesus, with the
non-recognition of him at the first moment, etc., certainly does honour
to the ingenuity and pathos of the author; [2079] but here also there
is an unhistorical superfluity similar to that in Matthew. For here the
angels have not, as in the other Evangelists, to announce the
resurrection to Mary Magdalene, and to make a disclosure to her; but
they merely ask her, Why weepest thou? whereupon she complains to them
of the disappearance of the body of Jesus, but, without waiting for any
further explanation, turns round and sees Jesus standing. Thus as in
Matthew the appearance of Jesus, since it is not represented as the
principal and effective one, is a superfluous addition to that of the
angel: so here the angelic appearance is an idle, ostentatious
introduction to the appearance of Jesus.

If we turn to the third account, that of Mark, to ascertain whether he
may not perhaps be the nearest to the fact: we find it so incoherent,
and composed of materials so little capable of being fitted together,
that such a relation is not to be thought of. After it has been already
narrated that early in the morning of the day succeeding the Sabbath
the women came to the grave of Jesus, and were informed by an angel of
his resurrection, but out of fear said nothing to any one of the
appearance which they had seen (xvi. 1–8): at v. 9, as if nothing had
previously been said either of the resurrection or of the time at which
it happened, the narrator proceeds: Now when Jesus was risen early the
first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom
he had cast seven devils, ἀναστὰς δὲ πρωὶ πρώτῃ σαββάτων ἐφάνη πρῶτον
Μαρίᾳ τῇ Μαγδαληνῇ. This statement also does not suit the foregoing
narrative, because this is not formed on the supposition of an
appearance specially intended for Mary Magdalene: on the contrary, as
she is said to be informed by an angel of the resurrection of Jesus,
together with two other women, Jesus could not have appeared to her
beforehand; while afterwards, on her way to the city, she was in
company with the other women, when, according to Matthew, they were all
actually met by Jesus. Whether on this account we are to regard the end
of the gospel of Mark, from v. 9, as a later addition, [2080] is indeed
doubtful, from the want of decisive critical grounds, and still more
from the abruptness of the conclusion ἐφοβοῦντο γὰρ, for they were
afraid, which the gospel would then present: but in any case we have
here a narrative which the author, without any clear idea of the state
of the fact and the succession of the events, hastily compiled out of
the heterogeneous elements of the current legend, which he knew not how
to manage.

In the narrative of Luke there would be no special difficulty: but it
has a suspicious element in common with the others, namely, the angelic
appearance, and moreover, in a twofold form. What had the angels to do
in this scene? Matthew tells us: to roll away the stone from the grave;
on which it has already been remarked by Celsus, that according to the
orthodox presupposition, the Son of God could find no such aid
necessary for this purpose: [2081] he might indeed find it suitable and
becoming. In Mark and Luke the angels appear more as having to impart
information and commissions to the women: but as, according to Matthew
and John, Jesus himself appeared immediately after, and repeated those
commissions, the delivery of them by angels was superfluous. Hence,
nothing remains but to say: the angels belonged to the embellishment of
the great scene, as celestial attendants who had to open to the Messiah
the door by which he meant to issue forth; as a guard of honour on the
spot from which the once dead had just departed with recovered life.
But here occurs the question: does this species of pomp exist in the
real court of God, or only in the childish conception formed of it by
antiquity?

Hence commentators have laboured in various ways to transform the
angels in the history of the resurrection into natural appearances.
Setting out from the account of the first gospel in which the angel is
said to have a form or countenance like lightning, ἰδέα ὡς ἀστραπὴ, and
to effect the rolling away of the stone and the prostration of the
guards, while an earthquake is connected with his appearance: it no
longer lay far out of the way to think of a flash of lightning, which
struck the stone with force sufficient to shatter it, and cast the
guards to the earth; or of an earthquake which, accompanied by flames
bursting out of the ground, produced the same effect; in which case the
flames and the overwhelming force of the phenomenon were taken by the
watching soldiers for an angel. [2082] But partly the circumstance that
the angel seated himself on the stone after it had been rolled away,
partly, and still more decidedly, the statement that he spoke to the
women, renders this hypothesis insufficient. Hence an effort has been
made to complete it by the supposition that the sublime thought, Jesus
is risen! which on the discovery that the grave was empty began to
arise in the women and gradually to subdue their first doubts, was
ascribed by them, after the oriental mode of thought and language, to
an angel. [2083] But how comes it that in all the gospels the angels
are represented as clothed in white, shining garments? Is that too an
oriental figure of speech? The oriental may indeed describe a good
thought which occurs to him as being whispered to him by an angel: but
to depict the clothing and aspect of this angel, passes the bounds of
the merely figurative even among orientals. In the description of the
first gospel the supposed lightning might be called to aid, in the
conjecture that the effect thereby produced on the senses of the women
was ascribed by them to an angel, which, with reference to that
lightning, they depicted as one clothed in shining garments. But,
according to the other Evangelists, the rolling away of the stone, ex
hypothesi by the lightning, was not seen by the women; on the contrary,
when they went or looked into the grave, the white forms appeared to
them in a perfectly tranquil position. According to this, it must have
been something within the grave which suggested to them the idea of
white-robed angels. Now in the grave, according to Luke and John, there
lay the white linen clothes in which the body of Jesus had been wrapt:
these, which were recognized simply as such by the more composed and
courageous men, might, it is said, by timid and excited women, in the
dark grave and by the deceptive morning twilight, be easily mistaken
for angels. [2084] But how should the women, who must have expected to
find in the grave a corpse enveloped in white, be prompted by the sight
of these clothes to a thought so strange, and which then lay so remote
from their anticipations, as that they might be an angel who would
announce to them the resurrection of their deceased master? It has been
thought in another quarter quite superfluous here to advance so many
ingenious conjectures as to what the angels may have been, since, among
the four narratives, two expressly tell us what they were: namely,
natural men, Mark calling his angel a young man, νεανίσκον, Luke his
two angels, two men, ἄνδρας δύο. [2085] Whom then are we to suppose
these men to have been? Here again the door is opened for the
supposition of secret colleagues of Jesus, who must have been unknown
even to the two disciples:—these men seen at the grave may have been
the same who met him in the so-called Transfiguration, perhaps Essenes,
white being worn by this sect,—or whatever else of the like conjectures
the antiquated pragmatism of a Bahrdt or Venturini has to offer. Or
will it rather be chosen to suppose a purely accidental meeting? or,
lastly, with Paulus, to leave the matter in an obscurity, from the
midst of which, so soon as it is endeavoured to clear it up by definite
thoughts, the two forms of the secret colleagues invariably present
themselves? A correct discernment will here also rather recognize the
forms of the Jewish popular conception, by which the primitive
Christian tradition held it necessary to glorify the resurrection of
its Messiah: a recognition, which at once solves in the most simple
manner the differences in the number and modes of appearance of those
celestial beings. [2086]

Herewith, however, it is at the same time acknowledged that we can
succeed no better with the plan of selection than with that of
incorporation; but must rather confess, that in all the evangelical
accounts of these first tidings of the resurrection, we have before us
nothing more than traditional reports. [2087]

§ 138.

APPEARANCES OF THE RISEN JESUS IN GALILEE AND IN JUDEA, INCLUDING THOSE
MENTIONED BY PAUL AND BY APOCRYPHAL WRITINGS.

The most important of all the differences in the history of the
resurrection turns upon the question, what locality did Jesus design to
be the chief theatre of his appearances after the resurrection? The two
first gospels make Jesus, before his death, when retiring to the Mount
of Olives, utter this promise to his disciples: After I am risen again
I will go before you into Galilee (Matt. xxvi. 32; Mark xiv. 28); the
same assurance is given to the women by the angels on the morning of
the resurrection, with the addition: there shall ye see him (Matt.
xxviii. 7; Mark xvi. 7); and in Matthew, besides all this, Jesus in his
own person commissions the women to say to the disciples: that they go
into Galilee, and there shall they see me (xxviii. 10). In Matthew the
journey of the disciples into Galilee, with the appearance of Jesus
which they there witnessed (the only one to the disciples recorded by
this Evangelist), is actually narrated in the sequel. Mark, after
describing the amazement into which the women were thrown by the
angelic appearance, breaks off in the enigmatical manner already
mentioned, and appends some appearances of Jesus, which,—as the first
happens immediately after the resurrection, and therefore necessarily
in Jerusalem, and no change of place is mentioned before the succeeding
ones, while the earlier direction to go into Galilee is lost sight
of,—must all be regarded as appearances in and around Jerusalem. John
knows nothing of a direction to the disciples to go into Galilee, and
makes Jesus show himself to the disciples on the evening of the day of
resurrection, and again eight days after, in Jerusalem; the concluding
chapter, however, which forms an appendix to his gospel, describes an
appearance by the Sea of Galilee. In Luke, on the other hand, not only
is there no trace of an appearance in Galilee, Jerusalem with its
environs being made the sole theatre of the appearances of Christ which
this gospel relates; but there is also put into the mouth of Jesus
when, on the evening after the resurrection, he appears to the
assembled disciples in Jerusalem, the injunction: tarry ye in the city
of Jerusalem (in the Acts i. 4, more definitely expressed by the
negative, that they should not depart from Jerusalem), until ye be
endued with power from on high (xxiv. 49). Here two questions
inevitably arise: 1st, how can Jesus have directed the disciples to
journey into Galilee, and yet at the same time have commanded them to
remain in Jerusalem until Pentecost? and 2ndly, how could he refer them
to a promised appearance in Galilee, when he had the intention of
showing himself to them that very day in and near Jerusalem?

The first contradiction which presents itself more immediately between
Matthew and Luke, has by no one been more pointedly exhibited than by
the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist. If, he writes, it be true, as Luke says,
that Jesus appeared to his disciples in Jerusalem on the day of his
resurrection, and commanded them to remain there, and not to depart
thence until Pentecost: then is it false that he commanded them within
the same period to journey into Galilee, that he might appear to them
there, and vice versâ. [2088] The harmonists indeed affected to regard
this objection as unimportant, and only remarked briefly, that the
injunction to remain in a city was not equivalent to an arrest, and did
not exclude walks and excursions in the neighbourhood; and that Jesus
merely forbade the removal of residence from Jerusalem, and the going
out into all the world to preach the gospel, before the given term
should arrive. [2089] But the journey from Jerusalem to Galilee is not
a mere walk, but the longest expedition which the Jew could make within
the limits of his own country; as little was it an excursion for the
apostles, but rather a return to their home: while what Jesus intended
to prohibit to the disciples in that injunction cannot have been the
going out into all the world to preach the gospel, since they would
have no impulse to do this before the outpouring of the Spirit; nor can
it have been the removal of residence from Jerusalem, since they were
there only as strangers visiting at the feast: rather Jesus must have
meant to deter them from that very journey which it was the most
natural for them to take, i.e. from the return to their native province
Galilee, after the expiration of the feast days. Besides this—and even
Michaelis confesses himself obliged to wonder here—if Luke does not
mean by that prohibition of Jesus to exclude the journey into Galilee,
why is it that he alludes to this by no single word? and in like
manner, if Matthew knew that his direction to go into Galilee was
consistent with the command to remain in the metropolis, why has he
omitted the latter, together with the appearances in Jerusalem? This is
certainly a plain proof that the accounts of the two Evangelists are
based on a different idea as to the theatre on which the risen Jesus
appeared.

In this exigency of having to reconcile two contradictory commands
given on the same day, the comparison with the Acts presented a welcome
help by indicating a distinction of the times. Here, namely, the
command of Jesus that the disciples should not leave Jerusalem is
placed in his last appearance, forty days after the resurrection, and
immediately before the ascension: at the close of the gospel of Luke it
is likewise in the last interview, terminating in the ascension, that
the above command is given. Now though from the summary representation
of the gospel taken by itself, it must be believed that all occurred on
the very day of the resurrection: we nevertheless see, it is said, from
the history of the Acts by the same author, that between v. 43 and 44
in the last chapter of his gospel we must interpose the forty days from
the resurrection to the ascension. Herewith, then, the apparent
contradiction between these two commands vanishes: for one who in the
first instance indeed enjoins a journey into Galilee, may very well
forty days later, after this journey has been made, and the parties are
once more in the metropolis, now forbid any further removal from
thence. [2090] But as the dread of admitting a contradiction between
different New Testament authors is no ground for departing from the
natural interpretation of their expressions: so neither can this be
justified by the apprehension that the same author may in different
writings contradict himself; since if the one were written somewhat
later than the other, the author may in the interim have been on many
points otherwise informed, than when he composed his first work. That
this was actually the case with Luke in relation to that part of the
life of Jesus which followed his resurrection, we shall have reason to
be convinced when we come to the history of the ascension: and this
conclusion removes all ground for interposing nearly five weeks between
the ἔφαγεν, v. 43, and εἶπε δὲ, v. 44, in defiance of their obviously
immediate connexion; at the same time, however, it does away with the
possibility of reconciling the opposite commands of Jesus in Matthew
and Luke by a distinction of times.

Meanwhile, even admitting that this contradiction might be in some way
or other removed, still, even without that express command which Luke
mentions, the mere facts as narrated by him and his predecessor and
successor, remain irreconcilable with the injunction which Jesus gives
to the disciples in Matthew. For, asks the Fragmentist, if the
disciples collectively twice saw him, spoke with him, touched him, and
ate with him, in Jerusalem; how can it be that they must have had to
take the long journey into Galilee in order to see him? [2091] The
harmonists, it is true, boldly reply: when Jesus causes his disciples
to be told that they will see him in Galilee, it is by no means said
that they will see him nowhere else, still less that they will not see
him in Jerusalem. [2092] But, the Fragmentist might rejoin, after his
manner: as little as one who says to me, go to Rome, there you shall
see the Pope, can mean that the Pope will indeed first come through my
present place of residence, so as to be seen by me here, but afterwards
I must yet go to Rome, in order to see him again there: so little would
the angel in Matthew and Mark, if he had had any anticipation of the
appearance in Jerusalem on the very same day, have said to the
disciples: go into Galilee, there will Jesus show himself to you; but
rather: be comforted, you shall yet see him here in Jerusalem before
evening. Wherefore the reference to the more remote event, when there
was one of the same kind close at hand? wherefore an appointment by
means of the women, for the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee, if the
latter foresaw that he should on the same day personally speak with the
disciples? With reason does the latest criticism insist on what Lessing
had previously urged; [2093] namely, that no rational person would make
an appointment with his friends through a third party for a joyful
reunion at a distant place, if he were certain of seeing them
repeatedly on the same day in their present locality. [2094] If thus
the angel and Jesus himself, when they in the morning by means of the
women directed the disciples to go into Galilee, cannot yet have known
that he would show himself to them on the evening of the same day in
and near Jerusalem: he must in the morning have still held the
intention of going immediately into Galilee, but in the course of the
day have embraced another purpose. According to Paulus, [2095] an
indication of such an original intention is found in Luke, in the
travelling of Jesus towards Emmaus, which lay in the direction of
Galilee; while the reason for the alteration of plan is supposed by the
same expositor, with whom in this instance Olshausen agrees, [2096] to
have been the belief of the disciples, as more particularly manifested
to Jesus on occasion of the journey to Emmaus. How so erroneous a
calculation on the part of Jesus can consist with the orthodox view of
his person, is Olshausen’s care; but even regarding him in a purely
human character, there appears no sufficient reason for such a change
of mind. Especially after Jesus had been recognised by the two
disciples going to Emmaus, he might be certain that the testimony of
the men would so accredit the assertion of the women, as to lead the
disciples with at least a glimmering ray of faith and hope into
Galilee. But in general, if a change of mind and a diversity of plan in
Jesus before and after that change, really existed: why does no one
Evangelist take any notice of such a retractation? Why does Luke speak
as if he knew nothing of the original plan; Matthew, as if he knew
nothing of a subsequent alteration; John, as if the principal theatre
of the appearances of the risen Jesus had been Jerusalem, and he had
only by way of supplement at length showed himself in Galilee? Lastly,
why does Mark speak so as to make it evident that, having gathered the
original direction to go into Galilee from Matthew, and the succeeding
appearances in Jerusalem and its environs from Luke or elsewhere, he
was unable, nor did he even make the attempt, in any way to reconcile
them; but placed them together as he found them, rough hewn and
contradictory.

According to this we must agree with the latest criticism of the gospel
of Matthew, in acknowledging the contradiction between it and the rest
in relation to the locality of the appearances of Jesus after the
resurrection: but, it must be asked, can we also approve the verdict of
this criticism when it at once renounces the representation of the
first gospel in favour of that of the other Evangelists. [2097] If,
setting aside all presuppositions as to the apostolic origin of this or
that gospel, we put the question: which of the two divergent accounts
is the best adapted to be regarded as a traditional modification and
development of the other? we can here refer, not merely to the general
nature of the accounts, but also to a single point at which the two
touch each other in a characteristic manner. This is the address of the
angel to the women, in which according to all the synoptists Galilee is
mentioned, but in a different way. In Matthew the angel, as has been
already noticed, says of Jesus: he goeth before you into Galilee,—lo, I
have told you (xxviii. 7), προάγει ὑμᾶς ἐις τὴν Γαλιλαίαν—ἰδοὺ εἶπον
ὑμῖν. In Mark he says the same, except that instead of the latter
addition, by which in Matthew the angel seeks to impress his own words
on the women, he has the expression: as he said unto you, καθὼς εἶπεν
ὑμῖν, with which he refers to the earlier prediction of Jesus
concerning this circumstance. If we first compare these two
representations: the confirmatory I have told you, εἶπον ὑμῖν, might
easily appear superfluous and nugatory; while on the other hand the
reference to the earlier prediction of Jesus by he said, εἶπεν, might
seem more appropriate, and on this the conjecture might be founded that
perhaps Mark has here the correct and original phrase, Matthew a
variation not unaccompanied by a misunderstanding. [2098] But if we
include the account of Luke in the comparison, we find here, as in
Mark, the words: remember how he spake unto you when he was yet in
Galilee, μνήσθητε, ὡς ἐλάλησεν ὑμῖν ἔτι ὢν ἐν τῇ Γαλιλαίᾳ, a reference
to an earlier prediction of Jesus, not however referring to Galilee,
but delivered in Galilee. Here the question occurs: is it more probable
that Galilee, from being the designation of the locality in which the
prophecy of the resurrection was uttered, should at a later period be
erroneously converted into a designation of the locality where the
risen one would appear; or the contrary? In order to decide this, we
must ascertain in which of the two positions the mention of Galilee is
the more intrinsically suited to the context. Now that on the
announcement of the resurrection it was an important point whether and
where the risen Jesus was to be seen, is self-evident; it was of less
moment, in referring to an earlier prediction, to specify where this
prediction was uttered. Hence from this comparison of the passages it
might already be held more probable that it was originally said, the
angels directed the disciples to go into Galilee, there to see the
risen one (Matt.); but afterwards, when the narratives of the
appearances of Jesus in Judea had gradually supplanted those in
Galilee, a different turn was given to the mention of Galilee in the
address of the angel, so as to make it imply that already in Galilee
Jesus had predicted his resurrection (Luke); whereupon Mark appears to
have taken a middle course, since he with Luke refers the εἶπον
(changed into εἶπεν) to Jesus, but with Matthew retains Galilee as the
theatre, not of the earlier prediction of Jesus, but of the coming
appearance.

If we next take into consideration the general character of the two
narratives and the nature of the case, there exist the same objections
to the supposition that Jesus after his resurrection appeared several
times to his disciples in and near Jerusalem, but that the remembrance
of this fact was lost, and the same arguments in favour of the opposite
supposition, as we have respectively applied to the analogous
alternatives in relation to the various journeys to the feasts and
Judæan residences of Jesus. [2099] That the appearances of the risen
Jesus in Jerusalem should undesignedly, that is, by a total
obliteration of them from the minds of individuals, have sunk into
oblivion in Galilee, where according to this presupposition the
tradition of Matthew was formed, is difficult to conceive, both from
the pre-eminent importance of these appearances, which, as for example
those before the assembled eleven and before Thomas, involved the
surest attestations of the reality of his resurrection, and also from
the organizing influence of the community in Jerusalem; while that the
Judæan appearances of Jesus were indeed known in Galilee, but
intentionally suppressed by the author of the first gospel, in order to
preserve the honour for his province alone, would presuppose an
exclusivism, an opposition of the Galilean Christians to the church at
Jerusalem, of which we have not the slightest historical trace. The
other contrary possibility, that perhaps originally only Galilean
appearances of the risen Jesus were known, but that tradition gradually
added appearances in Judea and Jerusalem, and that at length these
completely supplanted the former, may on many grounds be heightened
into a probability. First, as respects the time, the tidings of the
resurrection of Jesus were the more striking, the more immediately his
appearances followed on his burial and resurrection: if however he
first appeared in Galilee, such an immediate sequence of the events
could not exist; further, it was a natural idea that the resurrection
of Jesus must have been attested by appearances in the place where he
died; lastly, the objection that Jesus after his pretended resurrection
only appeared to his own friends, and in a corner of Galilee, was in
some degree repelled when it could be alleged that on the contrary, he
walked as one arisen from the dead in the metropolis, in the midst of
his furious enemies, though indeed he was neither to be taken nor seen
by them. But when once several appearances of Jesus were laid in Judea
and Jerusalem, the appearances in Galilee lost their importance, and
might thenceforth either be appended in a subordinate position, as in
the fourth gospel, or even be entirely overlooked, as in the third.
This result, drawn from the possible mode of legendary formation, not
being opposed, as in the inquiry concerning the theatre of the ministry
of the living Jesus, by a contrary one drawn from the circumstances and
designs of Jesus: we may, in contradiction to the criticism of the day,
decide in favour of the first gospel, whose account of the appearance
of the risen Jesus recommends itself as the more simple and free from
difficulty. [2100]

As regards the appearances of the risen Jesus taken singly, the first
gospel has two: one on the morning of the resurrection to the women
(xxviii. 9 f.), and one, the time of which is undetermined, before the
disciples in Galilee (xxviii. 16 f.). Mark, in what is indeed a merely
summary statement, enumerates three: the first, to Mary Magdalene on
the morning of the resurrection (xvi. 9 f.); a second, to two disciples
going into the country (xvi. 12); and a third, to the eleven as they
sat at meat, doubtless in Jerusalem (xvi. 14). Luke narrates only two
appearances: that before the disciples going to Emmaus on the day of
the resurrection (xxiv. 13 ff.), and the last, before the eleven and
other disciples in Jerusalem, according to xxiv. 36 ff., on the evening
of the same day, according to the Acts i. 4 ff. forty days later; but
when the travellers to Emmaus, on rejoining the apostles, are greeted
by them, before Jesus has appeared in the midst of them, with the
information: the Lord is risen indeed, and hath appeared to Simon
(xxiv. 34): here a third appearance is presupposed, which was granted
to Peter alone. John has four such appearances: the first, to Mary
Magdalene at the grave (xx. 14 ff.); the second to the disciples when
the doors were shut (xx. 19 ff.); the third, likewise in Jerusalem,
eight days later, when Thomas was convinced (xx. 26 ff.); the fourth,
of which the time is unspecified, at the Galilean sea (xxi.). But here
we have also to take into consideration a statement of the Apostle
Paul, who 1 Cor. xv. 5 ff., if we deduct the appearance of Christ
granted to himself, enumerates five appearances after the resurrection,
without however giving any precise description of them: one to Cephas;
one to the twelve; one before more than five hundred brethren at once;
one to James; and lastly, one before all the apostles.

Now how shall we make an orderly arrangement of these various
appearances? The right of priority is, in John, and still more
expressly in Mark, claimed for that to Mary Magdalene. The second must
have been the meeting of Jesus with the women returning from the grave,
in Matthew; but as Mary Magdalene was likewise among these, and there
is no indication that she had previously seen Jesus, these two
appearances cannot be regarded as distinct, but rather as one under two
different garbs. Paul, who in the above named passage speaks as if he
meant to enumerate all the appearances of the resuscitated Christ, of
which he knew, omits the one in question; but it may perhaps be said in
explanation of this, that he did not choose to adduce the testimony of
women. As the order in which he enumerates his Christophanies, to judge
from the succession of εἶτα and ἔπειτα and the conclusion with ἔσχατον,
appears to be the order of time: [2101] according to him the appearance
before Cephas was the first that happened before a man. This would
agree well with the representation of Luke, in which the journeyers to
Emmaus, on rejoining the disciples in Jerusalem, are met by them with
the information that Jesus is really arisen and has appeared to Simon,
which might possibly be the case before his interview with those two
disciples. As the next appearance, however, according to Luke, we must
number that last named, which Paul would not mention, perhaps because
he chose to adduce only those which were seen by apostles, and from
among the rest only those which happened before great masses of
witnesses, or more probably, because it was unknown to him. Mark xvi.
12 f. evidently refers to the same appearance; the contradiction, that
while in Luke the assembled disciples meet those coming from Emmaus
with the believing exclamation: the Lord is risen, etc., in Mark the
disciples are said to have remained incredulous even to the account of
those two witnesses, probably proceeds from nothing more than an
exaggeration of Mark, who will not lose his hold of the contrast
between the most convincing appearances of Jesus and the obstinate
unbelief of the disciples. The appearance on the way to Emmaus is in
Luke immediately followed by that in the assembly of the eleven and
others. This is generally held to be identical with the appearance
before the twelve mentioned by Paul, and with that which John narrates
when Jesus on the evening after the resurrection entered while the
doors were closed among the disciples, out of whose number, however,
Thomas was wanting. It is not fair to urge in opposition to this
identification the eleven of Luke, as at variance with the statement of
John that only ten apostles were present, any more than the twelve of
Paul, from which number Judas at least must be deducted; moreover the
similar manner in which the two Evangelists describe the entrance of
Jesus by ἔστη ἐν μέσῳ αὐτῶν and ἔστη εἰς τὸ μέσον, and the greeting
cited in both instances: εἰρήνη ὑμῖν, appear to indicate the identity
of the two appearances; nevertheless, if we consider that the handling
of the body of Jesus, which in John first happens eight days later, and
the eating of the broiled fish, which John assigns to the still later
appearance in Galilee, are connected by Luke with that scene in
Jerusalem on the day of the resurrection: it is evident that either the
third Evangelist has here compressed several incidents into one, or the
fourth has divided one into several—whichever alternative may be
chosen. This appearance before the apostles in Jerusalem however, as
has been above remarked, according to Matthew could not have happened,
since this Evangelist makes the eleven journey to Galilee in order to
see Jesus. Mark, and Luke in his gospel, annex the ascension to this
appearance, and thus exclude all subsequent ones. As the next
appearance, the apostle Paul has that before five hundred brethren,
which is generally regarded as the same with the one which Matthew
places on a mountain in Galilee: [2102] but at this only the eleven are
stated to have been present, and moreover the discourse of Jesus on the
occasion, consisting principally of official instructions, appears more
suited to this narrow circle. Paul next adduces an appearance to James,
of which there is also an apocryphal account, in the Hebrew gospel of
Jerome, according to which however it must have been the first of all.
[2103] Here there would be space for that appearance in which,
according to the fourth gospel eight days after the resurrection of
Jesus, Thomas was convinced; wherewith Paul would closely agree, if his
expression, to all the apostles, τοῖς ἀποστόλοις πᾶσιν (v. 7), which he
uses in relation to this appearance, were really to be understood of a
full assembly of the eleven in distinction from the earlier one, when
Thomas was not present: which however, as Paul, according to the above
presupposition, had described this also as an appearance before the
twelve, is impossible; on the contrary, the apostle intends as well by
the δώδεκα, twelve, as by οἱ ἀπόστολοι πάντες, all the apostles, the
collective body of apostles (whose proper number was then indeed
incomplete by one man), in opposition to the individuals (Cephas and
James) of whom in each case he had just before spoken, as having
witnessed a Christophany. If however we were nevertheless to regard the
fifth appearance of Jesus according to Paul as identical with the third
in John: it would only be the more clearly evident that the fourth of
Paul, before the five hundred brethren, cannot have been the one in
Galilee recorded by Matthew. For as, in John, the third took place in
Jerusalem, the fourth in Galilee: Jesus and the apostles must in that
case have gone into Galilee after the first appearances in Jerusalem,
and have met on the mountain; then have returned to Jerusalem where
Jesus showed himself to Thomas; then again have proceeded into Galilee
where the appearance by the sea occurred; and lastly, have once more
returned to Jerusalem for the ascension. In order to avoid this useless
journeying backwards and forwards, and yet to be able to combine those
two appearances, Olshausen lays the appearance before Thomas in
Galilee: an inadmissible violence, since not only is there no mention
of a change of place between this and the foregoing, which is by
implication represented as happening in Jerusalem, but the place of
assembly is in both instances described in the same manner; nay the
addition, the doors being shut, will not allow the supposition of any
other locality than Jerusalem, because in Galilee, where there was less
excitement against Jesus from the enmity of the priesthood, there
cannot be supposed to have been the same reason for that precaution, in
the fear of the Jews. Thus, first where the Judean appearances close
with that happening eight days after the resurrection, we should obtain
room to insert the Galilean appearances of Matthew and John. But these
have the peculiar position, that each claims to be the first, and that
of Matthew at the same time the last. [2104] By the tenor of his whole
narrative, and expressly by adding, after the statement that the
disciples went to a mountain in Galilee, the words: where Jesus had
appointed them, οὗ ἐτάξατο αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰ., Matthew marks this appearance
as the one to which Jesus had referred on the morning of the
resurrection, first by the angel, and then in his own person; but no
one concerts a second meeting in a particular place, leaving the first
undetermined: consequently, as an unforeseen earlier meeting is
incompatible with the evangelical idea of Jesus, [2105] that meeting,
since it was the concerted one, was also the first in Galilee. If thus
the appearance at the sea of Tiberias in John, cannot possibly be
placed before that on the mountain in Matthew: so the latter will just
as little suffer the other to follow it, since it is a formal
leave-taking of Jesus from his disciples. Moreover, it would be more
than ever difficult to understand how the appearance in John could be
made out, in accordance with the Evangelist’s own statement, to be the
third φανέρωσις of the risen Christ before his disciples (xxi. 14), if
that of the first gospel must also be supposed to precede it.
Meanwhile, even allowing the priority to the former, this numerical
notice of John remains sufficiently perplexing. We might, it is true,
deduct the appearances before the women, because, though John himself
narrates that to Mary Magdalene, he does not take it into his account;
but if we number that to Cephas as the first, and that on the way to
Emmaus as the second: then this Galilean appearance, as the third,
would fall between the above and that before the eleven on the evening
of the resurrection, which would presuppose a rapidity of locomotion
totally impossible; nay, if that appearance before the assembled eleven
is the same with the one at which, according to John, Thomas was
absent, the third appearance of John would fall before his first.
Perhaps, however, when we consider the expression: showed himself to
his disciples, ἐφανερώθη τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὑτοῦ, we ought to understand
that John only numbers such appearances as happened before several
disciples at once, so that those before Peter and James should be
deducted. In that case, we must number as the first, the appearance to
the two disciples going to Emmaus; as the second, that before the
assembled eleven on the evening of the resurrection: and thus in the
eight days between this and the one before Thomas, the journey into
Galilee would fall somewhat more conveniently,—but also the third
appearance of John would fall before his second. Perhaps, then, the
author of the fourth gospel held the two disciples whom Jesus met on
the way to Emmaus too small a number, to entitle this Christophany to
rank as a φανεροῦσθαι τοῖς μαθηταῖς. On this supposition the entrance
of Jesus among the assembled disciples in the evening would be the
first appearance; hereupon the five hundred brethren to whom Jesus
showed himself at once would surely be numerous enough to be taken into
the reckoning: so that the Galilean appearance of John, that is, his
third, must be inserted after this, but then it would still fall before
that to Thomas and all the apostles, which John enumerates as the
second. Perhaps, however, the appearance of Jesus before the five
hundred is to be placed later, so that after that entrance of Jesus
among the assembled disciples would first follow the scene with Thomas,
after this the appearance at the sea of Galilee, and only then the
sight of Jesus granted to the five hundred. But if the appearance
before Thomas is to be reckoned the same with the fifth in Paul’s
enumeration, this apostle must have reversed the order of his two last
appearances, a transposition for which there was no reason: on the
contrary, it would have been more natural to place last the appearance
before the five hundred brethren, as the most important. Thus nothing
remains but to say: John understood under the word μαθηταῖς merely a
greater or a smaller assembly of the apostles; but among the five
hundred there was no apostle; hence he omitted these also, and thus
correctly numbered the appearance at the sea of Tiberias as the third:
if indeed this could have happened before the one on the mountain in
Galilee, which, we have seen, to be inconceivable. The above expedients
resorted to by way of accommodation are in part ridiculous enough: but
Kern has lately surpassed them all by a suggestion which he advances
with great confidence, namely, that John here intends to number, not
the appearances, but the days on which appearances took place, so that
τοῦτο ἤδη τρίτον ἐφανερώθη ὁ Ἰ. τοῖς μαθηταῖς, this is now the third
time that Jesus showed himself to the disciples, means: now had Jesus
already appeared to his disciples on three separate days: namely, four
times on the day of the resurrection; then once eight days after; and
now again some days later. [2106] Renouncing such expedients, nothing
remains but to acknowledge that the fourth Evangelist numbers only
those appearances of Jesus to his disciples, which he had himself
narrated; and the reason of this can scarcely have been that the rest,
from some cause or other, appeared to him less important, but rather
that he knew nothing of them. [2107] And again, Matthew with his last
Galilean appearance, can have known nothing of the two in Jerusalem
recorded by John; for if in the first of these ten apostles had been
convinced of the reality of the resurrection of Jesus, and in the
second Thomas also: it could not have been that at that later
appearance on the mountain in Galilee some of the eleven (for only
these are represented by Matthew as going thither) still doubted (οἱ δὲ
ἐδίστασαν, v. 17). Lastly, if Jesus here delivered to his disciples the
final command to go into all the world teaching and baptizing, and gave
them the promise to be with them until the end of the existing age,
which is manifestly the tone of one who is taking leave: he cannot
subsequently, as is narrated in the introduction to the Acts, have
communicated to them his last commands and taken leave of them at
Jerusalem. According to the conclusion of the gospel of Luke, this
farewell departure on the contrary occurs much earlier than can be
supposed in accordance with Matthew; and in the close of the gospel of
Mark, where Jesus is represented as parting from his disciples in
Jerusalem on the very day of his resurrection, partly the same words
are put into his mouth as, according to Matthew, are spoken in Galilee,
and in any case later than on the day of the resurrection. The fact,
that the two books of the same author, Luke, diverge so widely from
each other in relation to the time during which Jesus appeared to his
disciples after his resurrection, that one determines this time to have
been a single day, the other, forty days, cannot be taken into more
particular consideration until we have reached a farther point of our
inquiry.

Thus the various evangelical writers only agree as to a few of the
appearances of Jesus after his resurrection; the designation of the
locality in one excludes the appearances narrated by the rest; the
determination of time in another leaves no space for the narratives of
his fellow Evangelists; the enumeration of a third is given without any
regard to the events reported by his predecessors; lastly, among
several appearances recounted by various narrators, each claims to be
the last, and yet has nothing in common with the others. Hence nothing
but wilful blindness can prevent the perception that no one of the
narrators knew and presupposed what another records; that each again
had heard a different account of the matter; and that consequently at
an early period, there were current only uncertain and very varied
reports concerning the appearances of the risen Jesus. [2108]

This conclusion, however, does not shake the passage in the first
Epistle to the Corinthians which, (it being undoubtedly genuine,) was
written about the year 59 after Christ, consequently not 30 years after
his resurrection. On this authority we must believe that many members
of the primitive church who were yet living at the time when this
epistle was written, especially the apostles, were convinced that they
had witnessed appearances of the risen Christ. Whether this involves
the admission that some objective reality lay at the foundation of
these appearances, will hereafter become the subject of inquiry;
concerning the present point, the divergencies of the Evangelists,
especially in relation to the locality, the passage of Paul offers
nothing decisive, since he has given no particular description of any
of those appearances.

§ 139.

QUALITY OF THE BODY AND LIFE OF JESUS AFTER THE RESURRECTION.

But how are we to represent to ourselves this continuation of the life
of Jesus after the resurrection, and especially the nature of his body
in this period? In order to answer this question we must once more cast
a glance over the separate narratives of his appearances when risen.

According to Matthew, Jesus on the morning of the resurrection meets
(ἀπήντησεν) the women as they are hastening back from the grave; they
recognize him, embrace his feet in sign of veneration, and he speaks to
them. At the second interview on the Galilean mountain the disciples
see him (ἰδόντες), but some still doubt, and here also Jesus speaks to
them. Of the manner in which he came and went, we have here no precise
information.

In Luke, Jesus joins the two disciples who are on their way from
Jerusalem to the neighbouring village of Emmaus (ἐγγίσας συνεπορεύετο
αὐτοῖς); they do not recognize him on the way, a circumstance which
Luke attributes to a subjective hindrance produced in them by a higher
influence (οἱ ὀφθαλμοὶ αὐτῶν ἐκρατοῦντο, τοῦ μὴ ἐπιγνῶναι αὐτὸν), and
only Mark, who compresses this event into few words, to an objective
alteration of his form (ἐν ἑτέρᾳ μορφῇ). On the way Jesus converses
with the two disciples, after their arrival in the village complies
with their invitation to accompany them to their lodging, sits down to
table with them, and proceeds according to his wont to break and
distribute bread. In this moment the miraculous spell is withdrawn from
the eyes of the disciples, and they know him: [2109] but in the same
moment he becomes invisible to them (ἄφαντος ἐγένετο ἀπ’ αὐτῶν). Just
as suddenly as he here vanished, he appears to have shown himself
immediately after in the assembly of the disciples, when it is said
that he all at once stood in the midst of them (ἔστη ἐν μέσῳ αὐτῶν),
and they, terrified at the sight, supposed that they saw a spirit. To
dispel this alarming idea, Jesus showed them his hands and feet, and
invited them to touch him, that by feeling his flesh and bones then
might convince themselves that he was no spectre; he also caused a
piece of broiled fish and of honeycomb to be brought to him, and ate it
in their presence. The appearance to Simon is in Luke described by the
expression ὤφθη; Paul in the first Epistle to the Corinthians uses the
same verb for all the Christophanies there enumerated, and Luke in the
Acts comprises all the appearances of the risen Jesus during the forty
days under the expressions ὀπτανόμενος (i. 3) and ἐμφανῆ γενέσθαι (x.
40). In the same manner Mark describes the appearance to Mary Magdalene
by ἐφάνη, and those to the disciples on the way to Emmaus and to the
eleven by ἐφανερώθη. John describes the appearance at the sea of
Tiberias by ἐφανὲρωσεν ἑαυτὸν, and to all the Christophanies narrated
by him he applies the word ἐφανερώθη. Mark and Luke add, as the close
of the earthly life of the risen Jesus, that he was taken away from
before the eyes of the disciples, and (by a cloud, according to Acts i.
9) carried up to heaven.

In the fourth gospel Jesus first stands behind Mary Magdalene as she is
turning away from the grave; she however, does not recognize him even
when he speaks to her, but takes him for the gardener, until he (in the
tone so familiar to her) calls her by her name. When on this she
attempts to manifest her veneration, Jesus prevents her by the words:
Touch me not, μή μου ἅπτου, and sends her with a message to the
disciples. The second appearance of Jesus in John occurred under
peculiarly remarkable circumstances. The disciples were assembled, from
fear of the hostile Jews, with closed doors: when all at once Jesus
came and stood in the midst of them, greeted them, and
presented—apparently to their sight only—his hands and feet, that they
might recognize him as their crucified master. When Thomas, who was not
present, refused to be convinced by the account of his fellow disciples
of the reality of this appearance, and required for his satisfaction
himself to see and touch the wounds of Jesus: the latter, in an
appearance eight days after, granted him this proof, making him touch
the marks of the nails in his hands and the wound in his side. Lastly,
at the appearance by the sea of Galilee, Jesus stood on the shore in
the morning twilight, without being known by the disciples in the ship,
asked them for fish, and was at length recognized by John, through the
rich draught of fishes which he procured them; still, however, the
disciples, when come to land, did not venture to ask him whether it
were really he. Hereupon he distributed among them bread and fish, of
which he doubtless himself partook, and finally held a conversation
with John and Peter. [2110]

Now the general ideas which may be formed of the life of Jesus after
his resurrection are two: either it was a natural and perfectly human
life, and accordingly his body continued to be subject to the physical
and organic laws; or his life was already of a higher, superhuman
character, and his body supernatural and transfigured: and the
accounts, taken unitedly, present certain traits to which, on the first
view, each of these two ideas may respectively appeal. The human form
with its natural members, the possibility of being known by means of
them, the continuance of the marks of the wounds, the human speech, the
acts of walking and breaking bread,—all these appear to speak in favour
of a perfectly natural life on the part of Jesus even after the
resurrection. If it were possible still to demur to this, and to
conjecture, that even a higher, heavenly corporeality might give itself
such an aspect and perform such functions: all doubts must be quelled
by the further statement, that Jesus after the resurrection consumed
earthly food, and allowed himself to be touched. Such things are indeed
ascribed even to higher beings in old myths, as for example, eating to
the heavenly forms from whom Abraham received a visit (Gen. xviii. 8),
and palpability to the God that wrestled with Jacob (Gen. xxxii. 24
ff.): but it must nevertheless be insisted that in reality both these
conditions can only belong to material, organized bodies. Hence not
only the rationalists, but even orthodox expositors, consider these
particulars as an irrefragable proof that the body and life of Jesus
after the resurrection must be regarded as remaining still natural and
human. [2111] This opinion is further supported by the remark, that in
the state of the risen Jesus there is observable precisely the same
progress as might be expected in the gradual, natural cure of a person
severely wounded. In the first hours after the resurrection he is
obliged to remain in the vicinity of the grave; in the afternoon his
strength suffices for a walk to the neighbouring village of Emmaus; and
only later is he able to undertake the more distant journey into
Galilee. Then also in the permission to touch his body there exists the
remarkable gradation, that on the morning of the resurrection Jesus
forbids Mary Magdalene to touch him, because his wounded body was as
yet too suffering and sensitive; but eight days later, he himself
invites Thomas to touch his wounds. Even the circumstance that Jesus
after his resurrection was so seldom with his disciples and for so
short a time, is, according to this explanation, a proof that he had
brought from the grave his natural, human body, for such an one would
necessarily feel so weak from the wounds and torture of the cross, as
always after short periods of exertion to require longer intervals of
quiet retirement.

But the New Testament narratives, as we have seen, also contain
particulars which favour the opposite idea of the corporeality of Jesus
after the resurrection: hence the advocates of the opinion hitherto
detailed must undertake so to interpret these apparently antagonistic
features that they may no longer present a contradiction. Here it may
seem that the very expressions by which the appearances of Jesus are
ordinarily introduced, as ὤφθη used of the appearance in the burning
bush (Exod. iii. 2, LXX.); ὀπτανόμενος, of the appearance of the angel
in Tobit xii. 19; ἐφάνη, of the angelic appearances in Matt. i. and
ii., may seem already to point to something supernatural. As still more
decided indications, the idea of a natural going and coming which may
be presupposed in some scenes, is contradicted in others by a sudden
appearance and disappearance; the supposition of an ordinary human body
is opposed by the frequent non-recognition on the part of friends, nay,
by the express mention of another form, ἑτέρα μορφὴ; above all, the
palpability of the body of Jesus appears to be opposed by the
capability which, according to the first impression from the text, is
lent to him in John, namely, that of entering through closed doors.
But, that Mary Magdalene mistook Jesus at first for the gardener, is
thought even by commentators who ordinarily are not diffident of the
miraculous, to be most probably accounted for by the supposition that
Jesus had borrowed clothes from the gardener, who very likely dwelt
near to the grave; moreover, say these writers, both in this instance
and in the journey to Emmaus, the disfiguration of the countenance of
Jesus by the sufferings of crucifixion may have contributed to prevent
his being recognized, and these two circumstances are alone to be
understood from the expression ἑτέρα μορφὴ, another form, in Mark.
[2112] As to the disciples going to Emmaus, in the joyful astonishment
caused by the sudden recognition of him whom they had believed dead,
Jesus, it is said, may easily have withdrawn from them unobserved in
the most natural manner; which, however, they, to whom the whole fact
of the resuscitation of Jesus was a miracle, might regard as a
supernatural disappearance. [2113] Nor, we are told, do the
expressions: ἒστη ἐν μέσῳ αὐτῶν or εἱς τὸ μέσον he stood in the midst
of them, especially in John, where they are accompanied by the ordinary
words ἦλθεν he came, and ἔρχεται he comes, imply anything supernatural,
but merely the startling arrival of one who had just been spoken of,
without his being expected; and the assembled disciples took him for a
spirit, not because he entered in a miraculous manner, but because they
could not believe in the real resuscitation of their deceased master.
[2114] Lastly, even the trait which is supposed to be decisive against
the opinion that the body of the risen Jesus was a natural and human
one,—the coming when the doors were shut ἔρχεσθαι θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων in
John,—has long been interpreted even by orthodox theologians so as no
longer to present any obstacle to that opinion. We will not discuss
explanations such as that of Heumann, according to which the doors were
not those of the house in which the disciples were assembled, but the
doors of Jerusalem in general, and the statement that they were shut is
an intimation of its having been that hour of the night in which it was
customary to close the doors, while the fear of the Jews represents the
motive, not for the closing of the doors, but for the assembling of the
disciples. Apart from these expedients, Calvin himself pronounces the
opinion that the body of the risen Jesus passed per medium ferrum et
asseres, to be pueriles argutiæ, for which the text gives no occasion,
since it does not say that Jesus entered per januas clausas, but only
that he suddenly appeared among his disciples, cum clausæ essent januæ.
[2115] Still Calvin upholds the entrance of Jesus of which John here
speaks as a miracle, which must consequently be supposed to consist in
this, that Jesus entered cum fores clausæ fuissent, sed quæ Domino
veniente subito patuerunt ad nutum divinæ majestatis ejus. [2116] While
more modern orthodox divines only contend for the less definite
position, that in the entrance of Jesus some miracle took place, its
precise character being unascertained. [2117] Rationalism has found
means entirely to banish the miraculous from the event. The closed
doors, we are told, were opened to Jesus by human hands; which John
omits to notice, only because it is understood as a matter of course,
nay, it would have been absurd of him to say: they opened the doors for
him, and he went in. [2118]

But in thus interpreting the words ἔρχεται τῶν θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων,
theologians have been by no means unprejudiced. Least of all Calvin;
for when he says, the papists maintain a real penetration of the body
of Jesus through closed doors in order to gain support for their tenet
that the body of Christ is immense, and contained in no place, ut
corpus Christi immensum esse, nulloque loco contineri obtineant: it is
plain that he combats that interpretation of the words of John merely
to avoid giving any countenance to the offensive doctrine of the
ubiquity of Christ’s body. The more modern expositors, on the other
hand, were interested in avoiding the contradiction which to our
perceptions is contained in the statement, that a body can consist of
solid matter, and yet pass without hindrance through other solid
matter: but as we know not whether this was also a contradiction in the
view of the New Testament writers, the apprehension of it gives us no
authority to discard that interpretation, providing it be shown to be
in accordance with the text. We might certainly, on a partial
consideration, understand the expression the doors being shut, τῶν
θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων, as an intimation of the anxious state into which
the disciples were thrown by the death of Jesus. But already the
circumstance that this particular is repeated on the appearance of
Jesus before Thomas excites doubts, since if the above was the only
meaning, it was scarcely worth while to repeat the observation. [2119]
But as in fact in this second instance the above cause for the closing
of the doors no longer exists, while the words τῶν θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων
are immediately united with ἔρχεται, he comes: what was before the most
apparent meaning, namely, that they are intended to determine the
manner of the coming of Jesus, is here heightened into a probability.
[2120] Further, the repeated statement that Jesus came when the doors
were closed is again followed by the words ἔστη εἰς τὸ μέσον, which
even in connexion with ἦλθεν, to which they are related as a more
precise determination, imply that Jesus suddenly presented himself,
without his approach having been seen: whence it is undeniably evident
that the writer here speaks of a coming without the ordinary means,
consequently, of a miraculous coming. But did this miracle consist in
passing through the boards of the doors? This is combated even by those
who espouse the cause of miracles in general, and they confidently
appeal to the fact, that it is nowhere said, he entered through the
closed doors διὰ τῶν θυρῶν κεκλεισμένων. [2121] But the Evangelist does
not mean to convey the precise notion that Jesus, as Michaelis
expresses himself, passed straight through the pores of the wood of
which the doors were made; he merely means that the doors were shut and
remained so, and nevertheless Jesus suddenly stood in the
chamber,—walls, doors, in short all material barriers, forming no
obstacle to his entrance. Thus in reply to their unjust demand of us,
to show them in the text of John a precise determination which is quite
away from the intention of this writer, we must ask them to explain why
he has not noticed the (miraculous) opening of the doors, if he
presupposed such a circumstance? In relation to this point Calvin very
infelicitously refers to Acts xii. 6 ff., where it is narrated of
Peter, that he came out of the closed prison; no one, he says, here
supposes that the doors remained closed, and that Peter penetrated
through wood and iron. Assuredly not; because here it is expressly said
of the iron gate of the prison which led into the city, that it opened
to him of its own accord (v. 10). This observation serves to give so
lively and graphic an idea of the miracle, that our Evangelist would
certainly not, in two instances, have omitted a similar one, if he had
thought of a miraculous opening of the doors.

Thus in this narrative of John the supernatural will not admit of being
removed or diminished: nor is the natural explanation more satisfactory
in relation to the expressions by which Luke describes the coming and
going of Jesus. For if, according to this Evangelist, his coming was a
standing in the midst of the disciples, στῆναι ἐν μέσῳ τῶν μαθητῶν, his
going a becoming invisible to them, ἄφαντος γίνεσθαι ἀπ’ αὐτῶν: the
concurrence of these two representations, taken in connexion with the
terror of the disciples and their mistaking him for a spirit, will
hardly allow the supposition of anything else than a miraculous
appearance. Besides, if we might perhaps form some idea how Jesus could
enter in a natural manner without being observed into a room filled
with men: we should still be at a loss to imagine how it could be
possible for him, when he sat at table at Emmaus, apparently with the
two disciples alone, to withdraw himself from them unobserved, and so
that they were not able to follow him. [2122]

That Mark, under the words ἑτέρα μορφὴ understands a form miraculously
altered, ought never to have been denied; [2123] but this is a point of
minor importance, because it involves only the narrator’s own
interpretation of the circumstance which had been already stated, but
with a different explanation, by Luke: namely, that the two disciples
did not know Jesus. That Mary Magdalene took Jesus for the gardener,
was hardly, in the view of the Evangelist, the consequence of his
having borrowed the gardener’s clothes: rather, the spirit of the
narrative would require us to explain her not knowing him by supposing
that her eyes were held (κρατεῖσθαι, Luke xxiv. 16), or that Jesus had
assumed another form; while her taking him for the gardener might then
be simply accounted for by the fact that she met the unknown man in the
garden. Nor are we authorized by the evangelical narratives to suppose
a disfiguration of Jesus by the sufferings of the cross, and a gradual
healing of his wounds. The words Touch me not in John, if they were to
be regarded as a prohibition of a touch as painful, would be in
contradiction, not merely with Matthew, according to whom Jesus on the
same morning—that of the resurrection—allowed the women to embrace his
feet, but also with Luke, according to whom he on the same day invited
the disciples to handle him; and we must then ask, which representation
is correct? But there is nothing at all in the context to intimate that
Jesus forbade Mary to touch him for fear of pain; he may have done so
from various motives: concerning which, however, the obscurity of the
passage has hitherto precluded any decision. [2124]

But the most singularly perverted inference is this: that the
infrequent and brief interviews of Jesus with his disciples after the
resurrection are a proof that he was as yet too weak for long and
multiplied efforts, and consequently was undergoing a natural cure. On
this very supposition of his needing bodily tendance, he should have
been not seldom, but constantly, with his disciples, who were those
from whom he could the most immediately expect such tendance. For where
are we to suppose that he dwelt in the long intervals between his
appearances? in solitude? in the open air? in the wilderness and on
mountains? That was no suitable abode for an invalid, and nothing
remains but to suppose that he must have been concealed among secret
colleagues of whom even his disciples knew nothing. But thus to conceal
his real abode even from his own disciples, to show himself to them
only seldom, and designedly to present and withdraw himself suddenly,
would be a kind of double dealing, an affectation of the supernatural,
which would exhibit Jesus and his cause in a light foreign to the
object itself so far as it lies before us in our original sources of
information, and only thrown upon it by the dark lantern of modern, yet
already obsolete, conceptions. The opinion of the Evangelists is no
other than that the risen Jesus, after those short appearances among
his followers, withdrew like a higher being into invisibility, from
which, on fitting occasions, he again stept forth. [2125]

Lastly, on the presupposition that Jesus by his resurrection returned
to a purely natural existence, what conception must be formed of his
end? In consistency he must be supposed, whether at the end of a longer
[2126] or a shorter time after his resuscitation, to have died a
natural death; and accordingly Paulus intimates that the too intensely
affected body of Jesus, notwithstanding it had recovered from the
death-like rigidity produced by crucifixion, was yet completely worn
out by natural maladies and consuming fever. [2127] That this is at
least not the view of the Evangelists concerning the end of Jesus is
evident, since two of them represent him as taking leave of his
disciples like an immortal, the others as being visibly carried up to
heaven. Thus before the ascension, at the latest, if until then Jesus
had retained a natural human body, it must have undergone a change
which qualified him to dwell in the heavenly regions; the sediment of
gross corporeality must have fallen to the earth, and only its finest
essence have ascended. But of any natural remains of the ascended Jesus
the Evangelists say nothing; and as the disciples who were spectators
of his ascension must have observed them had there been such, nothing
is left for the upholders of this opinion but the expedient of certain
theologians of the Tübingen school, who regard as the residuum of the
corporeality of Jesus, the cloud which enveloped him in his ascension,
and in which what was material in him is supposed to have been
dissolved and as it were evaporated. [2128] As thus the Evangelists
neither represent to themselves the end of the earthly life of Jesus
after the resurrection as a natural death, nor mention any change
undergone by his body at the ascension, and moreover narrate of Jesus
in the interval between the resurrection and ascension things which are
inconceivable of a natural body: they cannot have represented to
themselves his life after the resurrection as natural, but only as
supernatural, nor his body as material and organic, but only as
transfigured.

In the point of view held by the Evangelists, this conception is not
contradicted even by those particulars which the friends of the purely
natural opinion respecting the life of the risen Jesus are accustomed
to urge in their support. That Jesus ate and drank was, in the circle
of ideas within which the gospels originated, as far from presupposing
a real necessity, as the meal of which Jehovah partook with two angels
in the tent of Abraham: the power of eating is here no proof of a
necessity for eating. [2129] That he caused himself to be touched, was
the only possible mode of refuting the conjecture that an incorporeal
spectre had appeared to the disciples; moreover, divine existences, not
merely in Grecian, but also (according to the passage above quoted,
Gen. xxxii. 24) in Hebrew antiquity, sometimes appeared palpable, in
distinction from unsubstantial shades, though they otherwise showed
themselves as little bound by the laws of materiality as the palpable
Jesus, when he suddenly vanished, and was able to penetrate without
hindrance into a room of which the door was closed. [2130]

It is quite another question, whether on our more advanced position,
and with our more correct knowledge of nature, those two different
classes of particulars can be held compatible with each other. Here we
must certainly say: a body which consumes visible food, must itself be
visible; the consumption of food presupposes an organism, but an
organism is organized matter, and this has not the property of
alternately vanishing and becoming visible again at will. [2131] More
especially, if the body of Jesus was capable of being felt, and
presented perceptible flesh and bones, it thus exhibited the
impenetrability of matter, proper to it as solid: if on the other hand
he was able to pass into closed houses and rooms, unhindered by the
interposition of walls and doors, he thus proved that the
impenetrability of solid matter did not belong to him. Since then
according to the evangelical accounts he must at the same time have had
and not have had the same property: the evangelical representation of
the corporeality of Jesus after the resurrection is manifested to be
contradictory. And this contradiction is not of such a kind that it is
divided among the different narrators; but the account of one and the
same Evangelist includes those contradictory features within itself.
The brief account of Matthew, it is true, implies in the embracing of
the feet of Jesus by the women (v. 9) only the attribute of
palpability, without at the same time presenting an opposite one; with
Mark the case is reversed, his statement that Jesus appeared in another
form (v. 12) implying something supernatural, while on the other hand
he does not decidedly presuppose the opposite; in Luke, on the other
hand, the permission to touch his body and the act of eating speak as
decidedly in favour of organic materiality, as the sudden appearance
and disappearance speak against it; but the members of this
contradiction come the most directly into collision in John, where
Jesus, immediately after he has entered into the closed room unimpeded
by walls and doors, [2132] causes the doubting Thomas to touch him.

§ 140.

DEBATES CONCERNING THE REALITY OF THE DEATH AND RESURRECTION OF JESUS.

The proposition: a dead man has returned to life, is composed of two
such contradictory elements, that whenever it is attempted to maintain
the one, the other threatens to disappear. If he has really returned to
life, it is natural to conclude that he was not wholly dead; if he was
really dead, it is difficult to believe that he has really become
living. [2133]

When we form a correct opinion of the relation between soul and body,
not abstractly separating the two, but conceiving them at once in their
identity, the soul as the interior of the body, the body as the
exterior of the soul, we know not how to imagine, to say nothing of
comprehending, the revivification of a dead person. What we call the
soul is the governing centre which holds in combination the powers and
operations of the body; its function, or rather the soul itself,
consists in keeping all other processes of which the body is
susceptible in uninterrupted subjection to the superior unity of the
process of organic life, which in man is the basis of his spiritual
nature: so soon as this regulating power ceases to act, the supremacy
in the various parts of the body is assumed by these other, inferior
principles, whose work in its prosecution is corruption. When once
these have acceded to the dominion, they will not be inclined to render
it back to their former monarch, the soul; or rather this is
impossible, because, quite apart from the question of the immortality
of the human spirit (Geist), the soul (Seele) as such ceases in the
same moment with its dominion and activity, which constitute its
existence; consequently, in a revivification, even if resort be had to
a miracle, this must consist in the direct creation of a new soul.

Only in the dualism which has become popular on the subject of the
relation between body and soul, is there anything to favour the opinion
of the possibility of a revivification properly so called. In this
system, the soul in its relation to the body is represented as like a
bird, which, though it may for a time have flown out of the cage, can
yet be once more caught and replaced in its former abode; and it is to
such figures that an imaginative species of thought cleaves, in order
to preserve the notion of revivification. But even in this dualistic
view, the inconceivability of such an event is rather concealed than
really diminished. For in the most abstract separation, the
co-existence of the body and soul cannot be held as indifferent and
lifeless as that of a box and its contents; on the contrary, the
presence of the soul in the body produces effects, which again are the
conditions whereby that presence is rendered possible. Thus so soon as
the soul has forsaken the body, there is a cessation in the latter of
those activities which according to the dualistic idea were the
immediate expressions of the influence of the soul; at the same time,
the organs of these activities—brain, blood, etc., begin to stagnate; a
change which is coincident with the moment of death. Thus if it could
occur to the departed soul, or be imposed on it by another, to re-enter
its former dwelling-place: it would find this dwelling, even after the
first moments, uninhabitable in its noblest parts, and unfit for use.
To restore, in the same way as an infirm member, the most immediate
organs of its activity, is an impossibility to the soul, since in order
to effect anything in the body it has need of the service of these very
organs: thus the soul, although remanded into the body, must suffer it
to decay, from inability to exercise any influence over it; or there
must be added to the miracle of its reconveyance into the body, the
second miracle of a restoration of the lifeless bodily organs: an
immediate interposition of God in the regular course of nature,
irreconcileable with enlightened ideas of the relation of God to the
world.

Hence the cultivated intellect of the present day has very decidedly
stated the following dilemma: either Jesus was not really dead, or he
did not really rise again.

Rationalism has principally given its adhesion to the former opinion.
The short time that Jesus hung on the cross, together with the
otherwise ascertained tardiness of death by crucifixion, and the
uncertain nature and effects of the wound from the spear, appeared to
render the reality of the death doubtful. That the agents in the
crucifixion, as well as the disciples themselves, entertained no such
doubt, would be explained not only by the general difficulty of
distinguishing deep swoons and the rigidity of syncope from real death,
but also from the low state of medical science in that age; while at
least one example of the restoration of a crucified person appeared to
render conceivable a resuscitation in the case of Jesus also. This
example is found in Josephus, who informs us that of three crucified
acquaintances whose release he begged from Titus, two died after being
taken down from the cross, but one survived. [2134] How long these
people had hung on the cross Josephus does not mention; but from the
manner in which he connects them with his expedition to Thekoah, by
stating that he saw them on his return from thence, they must probably
have been crucified during this expedition, and as this, from the
trifling distance of the above place from Jerusalem, might possibly be
achieved in a day, they had in all probability not hung on the cross
more than a day, and perhaps a yet shorter time. These three persons,
then, can scarcely have hung much longer than Jesus, who, according to
Mark, was on the cross from nine in the morning till towards six in the
evening, and they were apparently taken down while they still showed
signs of life; yet with the most careful medical tendance only one
survived. Truly it is difficult to perceive how it can hence be shown
probable that Jesus, who when taken from the cross showed all the signs
of death, should have come to life entirely of himself, without the
application of medical skill. [2135]

According to a certain opinion, however, these two conditions—some
remains of conscious life, and careful medical treatment—were not
wanting in the case of Jesus, although they are not mentioned by the
Evangelists. Jesus, we are told, seeing no other way of purifying the
prevalent messianic idea from the admixture of material and political
hopes, exposed himself to crucifixion, but in doing so relied on the
possibility of procuring a speedy removal from the cross by early
bowing his head, and of being afterwards restored by the medical skill
of some among his secret colleagues; so as to inspirit the people at
the same time by the appearance of a resurrection. [2136] Others have
at least exonerated Jesus from such contrivance, and have admitted that
he really sank into a deathlike slumber; but have ascribed to his
disciples a preconceived plan of producing apparent death by means of a
potion, and thus by occasioning his early removal from the cross,
securing his restoration to life. [2137] But of all this our
evangelical sources give no intimation, and for conjecturing such
details we have no ground. Judicious friends of the natural
explanation, who repudiate such monstrous productions of a system which
remodels history at will, have hence renounced the supposition of any
remains of conscious life in Jesus, and have contented themselves, for
the explanation of his revivification, with the vital force which
remained in his still young and vigorous body, even after the cessation
of consciousness; and have pointed out, instead of premeditated
tendance by the hands of men, the beneficial influence which the partly
oleaginous substances applied to his body must have had in promoting
the healing of his wounds, and, united with the air in the cave,
impregnated with the perfumes of the spices, in reawakening feeling and
consciousness in Jesus; [2138] to all which was added as a decisive
impulse, the earthquake and the lightning which on the morning of the
resurrection opened the grave of Jesus. [2139] Others have remarked, in
opposition to this, that the cold air in the cave must have had
anything rather than a vivifying tendency; that strong aromatics in a
confined space would rather have had a stupefying and stifling
influence; [2140] and the same effect must have been produced by a
flash of lightning bursting into the grave, if this were not a mere
figment of rationalistic expositors.

Notwithstanding all these improbabilities, which are against the
opinion that Jesus came to life after a merely apparent death by the
operation of natural causes, this nevertheless remains so far possible,
that if we had secure evidence of the resuscitation of Jesus, we might,
on the strength of such certainty as to the result, supply the
omissions in the narrative, and approve the opinion above
presented,—with the rejection, however, of all precise conjectures.
Secure evidence of the resurrection of Jesus, would be the attestation
of it in a decided and accordant manner by impartial witnesses. But the
impartiality of the alleged witnesses for the resurrection of Jesus, is
the very point which the opponents of Christianity, from Celsus down to
the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, have invariably called in question. Jesus
showed himself to his adherents only: why not also to his enemies, that
they too might be convinced, and that by their testimony posterity
might be precluded from every conjecture of a designed fraud on the
part of his disciples? [2141] I cannot certainly attach much weight to
the replies by which apologists have sought to repel this objection,
from that of Origen, who says: Christ avoided the judge who condemned
him, and his enemies, that they might not be smitten with blindness;
[2142] to the opinions of the modern theologians, who by their
vacillation between the assertion that by such an appearance the
enemies of Jesus would have been compelled to believe, and the opposite
one, that they would not have believed even on such evidence,—mutually
confute one another. [2143] Nevertheless, it can still be urged in
reply to that objection, that the adherents of Jesus, from their
hopelessness, which is both unanimously attested by the narratives, and
is in perfect accordance with the nature of the case, here rise to the
rank of impartial witnesses. If they had expected a resurrection of
Jesus and we had then been called upon to believe it on their testimony
alone: there would certainly be a possibility and perhaps also a
probability, if not of an intentional deception, yet of an involuntary
self-delusion on their part; but this possibility vanishes in
proportion as the disciples of Jesus lost all hope after his death. Now
even if it be denied that any one of the gospels proceeded immediately
from a disciple of Jesus, it is still certain from the epistles of Paul
and the Acts that the Apostles themselves had the conviction that they
had seen the risen Jesus. We might then rest satisfied with the
evangelical testimonies in favour of the resurrection, were but these
testimonies in the first place sufficiently precise, and in the second,
in agreement with themselves and with each other. But in fact the
testimony of Paul, which is intrinsically consistent and is otherwise
most important, is so general and vague, that taken by itself, it does
not carry us beyond the subjective fact, that the disciples were
convinced of the resurrection of Jesus; while the more fully detailed
narratives of the gospels, in which the resurrection of Jesus appears
as an objective fact, are, from the contradictions of which they are
convicted, incapable of being used as evidence, and in general their
account of the life of Jesus after his resurrection is not one which
has connexion and unity, presenting a clear historical idea of the
subject, but a fragmentary compilation, [2144] which presents a series
of visions, rather than a continuous history.

If we compare with this account of the resurrection of Jesus, the
precise and internally consistent attestation of his death: we must
incline to the other side of the dilemma above stated, and be induced
to doubt the reality of the resurrection rather than that of the death.
Hence Celsus chose this alternative, deriving the alleged appearance of
Jesus after the resurrection, from the self-delusion of the disciples,
especially the women, either dreaming or waking; or from what appeared
to him still more probable, intentional deception: [2145] and more
modern writers, as, for example, the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, have
adopted the accusation of the Jews in Matthew, namely, that the
disciples stole the body of Jesus, and afterwards fabricated, with
slender agreement, stories of his resurrection and subsequent
appearances. [2146] This suspicion is repelled by the remark of Origen,
that a spontaneous falsehood on the part of the disciples could not
possibly have animated them to so unflinching an announcement of the
resurrection of Jesus amid the greatest perils; [2147] and it is a just
argument of modern apologists that the astonishing revolution from the
deep depression and utter hopelessness of the disciples at the death of
Jesus, to the strong faith and enthusiasm with which they proclaimed
him as the Messiah on the succeeding Pentecost, would be inexplicable
unless in the interim something extraordinarily encouraging had taken
place—something, in fact, which had convinced them of his resurrection.
[2148] But that this cause of conviction was precisely a real
appearance of the risen Jesus—that, indeed it was necessarily an
external event at all—is by no means proved. If we chose to remain on
supranatural ground, we might with Spinoza suppose that a vision was
produced by miraculous means in the minds of the disciples, the object
of which was to make evident to them, in a manner accordant with their
powers of comprehension and the ideas of their age, that Jesus by his
virtuous life had risen from spiritual death, and that to those who
followed his example he would grant a similar resurrection. [2149] With
one foot at least on the same ground stands the supposition of Weisse,
that the departed spirit of Jesus really acted on the disciples whom he
had left behind; in connexion with which he refers to the apparitions
of spirits, the impossibility of which remains unproved. [2150] In
order to escape from the magic circle of the supernatural, others have
searched for natural external causes which might induce the belief that
Jesus had risen and had been seen after his resurrection. The first
impetus to this opinion, it has been conjectured, was given by the
circumstance that on the second morning after the burial his grave was
found empty, the linen clothes which lay in it being taken first for
angels and then for an appearance of the risen Jesus himself: [2151]
but if the body of Jesus was not reanimated, how are we to suppose that
it came out of the grave? Here it would be necessary to recur to the
supposition of a theft: unless the intimation of John, that Jesus on
account of haste was laid in a strange grave, were thought available
for the conjecture that perhaps the owner of the grave caused the
corpse to be removed: which however the disciples must subsequently
have learned, and which in any case has too frail a foundation in the
solitary statement of the fourth gospel.

Far more fruitful is the appeal to the passage of Paul (1 Cor. xv. 5
ff.), as the most appropriate starting point in this inquiry, and the
key to the comprehension of all the appearances of Jesus after his
resurrection. [2152] When Paul there places the Christophany which
occurred to himself in the same series with the appearances of Jesus in
the days after his resurrection: this authorizes us, so far as nothing
else stands in the way of such an inference, to conclude that, for
aught the Apostle knew, those earlier appearances were of the same
nature with the one experienced by himself. Now with respect to the
latter as narrated to us in the Acts (ix. 1 ff., xxii. 3 ff., xxvi. 12
ff.), it is no longer possible, after the analysis of Eichhorn [2153]
and Ammon, [2154] to retain it as an external, objective appearance of
the real Christ; even Neander [2155] does not positively dare to
maintain more than an internal influence of Christ on the mind of Paul,
only appending in a very beseeching manner the supposition of an
external appearance; and even that internal influence he himself
renders superfluous by detailing the causes which might in a natural
manner produce such a revolution in the disposition of the man thus:
the favourable impression of Christianity, of the doctrine, life and
conduct of its adherents, which he had here and there received,
especially on the occasion of the martyrdom of Stephen, threw his mind
into a state of excitement and conflict, which he might indeed for a
time forcibly repress, perhaps even by redoubled zeal against the new
sect, but which must at last find vent in a decisive spiritual crisis,
concerning which it need not surprise us that in an oriental it took
the form of a Christophany. If according to this we have in the Apostle
Paul an example, that strong impressions from the infant Christian
community might carry an ardent mind that had long striven against it,
to a pitch of exaltation which issued in a Christophany, and a total
change of sentiment: surely the impression of the sublime personality
of Jesus would suffice to inspire into his immediate disciples,
struggling with the doubts concerning his messiahship which his death
had excited in them, the experience of similar visions. They who think
it necessary and desirable in relation to the Christophany of Paul to
call in the aid of external natural phenomena, as thunder and
lightning, may also seek to facilitate the explanation of the
appearances of the risen Jesus which his immediate disciples believed
themselves to have previously had, by the supposition of similar
incidents. [2156] Only it must be observed that, as Eichhorn’s
explanation of the event in the life of Paul proved a failure from his
maintaining as historical every single detail in the New Testament
narrative, as the blindness of Paul and his cure, the vision of
Ananias, and so on, which he could only transform into natural
occurrences by a very strained interpretation: so it would inevitably
render impossible the psychological explanation of the appearances of
Jesus, to acknowledge as historical all the evangelical narratives
concerning them, especially those of the tests which Thomas applied by
touching the wounds of Jesus, and which Jesus himself afforded by
taking material nourishment; and indeed these narratives, from the
contradiction which they are shown to present, have not the slightest
claim to such a character. The two first gospels, and our chief
informant in this matter, the Apostle Paul, tell us nothing of such
tests, and it is quite natural that the Christophanies which, in the
actual experience of the women and Apostles, may have floated before
them as visions of much the same character as that which Paul had on
the way to Damascus, when once received into tradition, should by
reason of the apologetic effort to cut off all doubts as to their
reality, be continually more and more consolidated so that the mute
appearances became speaking ones, the ghostlike form was exchanged for
one that ate, and the merely visible body was made palpable also.

Here however there presents itself a distinction, which seems at once
to render the event in the history of Paul unavailable for the
explanation of those earlier appearances. To the Apostle Paul, namely,
the idea that Jesus had risen and appeared to many persons was
delivered as the belief of the sect which he persecuted; he had only to
receive it into his conviction and to vivify it in his imagination
until it became a part of his own experience: the earlier disciples, on
the contrary, had before them as a fact merely the death of their
Messiah,—the notion of a resurrection on his part they could nowhere
gather, but must, according to our conception of the matter, have first
produced it; a problem which appears to be beyond all comparison more
difficult than that subsequently presented to the Apostle Paul. In
order to form a correct judgment on this subject, we must transport
ourselves yet more completely into the situation and frame of mind into
which the disciples of Jesus were thrown by his death. During several
years’ intercourse with them he had constantly impressed them more and
more decidedly with the belief that he was the Messiah; but his death,
which they were unable to reconcile with their messianic ideas, had for
the moment annihilated this belief. Now when, after the first shock was
past, the earlier impression began to revive: there spontaneously arose
in them the psychological necessity of solving the contradiction
between the ultimate fate of Jesus and their earlier opinion of him—of
adopting into their idea of the Messiah the characteristics of
suffering and death. As, however, with the Jews of that age to
comprehend meant nothing else than to derive from the sacred
scriptures: they turned to these, to ascertain whether they might not
perhaps find in them intimations of a suffering and dying Messiah.
Foreign as the idea of such a Messiah is to the Old Testament, the
disciples, who wished to find it there, must nevertheless have regarded
as intimations of this kind, all those poetical and prophetic passages
which, like Isa. liii., Ps. xxii., represented the man of God as
afflicted and bowed down even to death. Thus Luke states as the chief
occupation of the risen Jesus in his interview with the disciples, that
beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all
the scriptures the things concerning himself, i.e. that Christ ought to
have suffered such things (xxiv. 26 f., 44 ff.). When they had in this
manner received into their messianic idea ignominy, suffering and
death, the ignominiously executed Jesus was not lost, but still
remained to them: by his death he had only entered into his messianic
glory (Luke xxiv. 26) in which he was invisibly with them always, even
unto the end of the world (Matt. xxviii. 20). But how could he fail,
out of this glory, in which he lived, to give tidings of himself to his
followers? and how could they, when their mind was opened to the
hitherto hidden doctrine of a dying Messiah contained in the
scriptures, and when in moments of unwonted inspiration their hearts
burned within them (Luke xxiv. 32),—how could they avoid conceiving
this to be an influence shed on them by their glorified Christ, an
opening of their understanding by him (v. 45), nay, an actual
conversing with him? [2157] Lastly, how conceivable is it that in
individuals, especially women, these impressions were heightened, in a
purely subjective manner, into actual vision; that on others, even on
whole assemblies, something or other of an objective nature, visible or
audible, sometimes perhaps the sight of an unknown person, created the
impression of a revelation or appearance of Jesus: a height of pious
enthusiasm which is wont to appear elsewhere in religious societies
peculiarly oppressed and persecuted. But if the crucified Messiah had
truly entered into the highest form of blessed existence, he ought not
to have left his body in the grave: and if in precisely such Old
Testament passages as admitted of a typical relation to the sufferings
of the Messiah, there was at the same time expressed the hope: thou
wilt not leave my soul in hell, neither wilt thou suffer thy holy one
to see corruption (Ps. xvi. 10; Acts ii. 27); while in Isa. liii. 10,
he who had been represented as led to the slaughter and buried, was yet
promised a prolongation of his days: what was more natural to the
disciples than to reinstate their earlier Jewish ideas, which the death
of Jesus had disturbed, namely, that the Christ remaineth for ever
(John xii. 34), through the medium of an actual revivification of their
dead master, and, as it was a messianic attribute one day to call the
dead bodily from the grave, to imagine also as returning to life in the
manner of a resurrection?

Meanwhile, if the body of Jesus was interred in a known place, and
could there (so far as we are not at liberty to suppose a theft, or an
accidental removal) be sought for and exhibited: it is difficult to
conceive how the disciples in Jerusalem itself, and not quite two days
after the interment, could believe and declare that Jesus was risen,
without refuting themselves, or meeting with refutation from their
adversaries, (to whom however they appear to have made the first
disclosure as to the resurrection of their Messiah at Pentecost,) by
ocular demonstration at the grave. [2158] Now it is here that the
narrative of the first gospel, which has been unjustly placed below the
others, presents an explanatory and satisfactory indication. According
to this gospel also the risen Jesus does indeed appear in Jerusalem,
but only to the women, and so entirely as a mere preparation for a
succeeding interview, nay, so superfluously, that we have already
questioned the truth of this appearance, and pronounced it to be a
later modification of the legend of the angelic appearance, which
Matthew nevertheless also included in his narrative. [2159] The sole
important appearance of Jesus after the resurrection occurs, according
to Matthew, in Galilee, whither an angel, and Jesus himself on the last
evening of his life and on the morning of the resurrection, most
urgently directed his disciples, and where the fourth gospel also, in
its appendix, places an appearance of the resuscitated Jesus. That the
disciples, dispersed by their alarm, at the execution of their Messiah,
should return to their home in Galilee, where they had no need, as in
the metropolis of Judea, the seat of the enemies of their crucified
Christ, to shut the doors for fear of the Jews, was natural. Here was
the place where they gradually began to breathe freely, and where their
faith in Jesus, which had been temporarily depressed, might once more
expand with its former vigour. But here also, where no body lay in the
grave to contradict bold suppositions, might gradually be formed the
idea of the resurrection of Jesus; and when this conviction had so
elevated the courage and enthusiasm of his adherents that they ventured
to proclaim it in the metropolis, it was no longer possible by the
sight of the body of Jesus either to convict themselves, or to be
convicted by others.

According to the Acts, it is true, the disciples so early as on the
next Pentecost, seven weeks after the death of Jesus, appeared in
Jerusalem with the announcement of his resurrection, and were
themselves already convinced of it on the second morning after his
burial, by appearances which they witnessed. But how long will it yet
be, until the manner in which the author of the Acts places the first
appearance of the disciples of Jesus with the announcement of the new
doctrine, precisely on the festival of the announcement of the old law,
be recognized as one which rests purely on dogmatical grounds; which is
therefore historically worthless, and in no way binds us to assign so
short a duration to that time of quiet preparation in Galilee? As
regards the other statement—it might certainly require some time for
the mental state of the disciples to become exalted in the degree
necessary, before this or that individual amongst them could, purely as
an operation of his own mind, make present to himself the risen Christ
in a visionary manner; or before whole assemblies, in moments of highly
wrought enthusiasm, could believe that they heard him in every
impressive sound, or saw him in every striking appearance: but it would
nevertheless be conceived, that, as it was not possible that he should
be held by the bonds of death (Acts ii. 24), he had passed only a short
time in the grave. As to the more precise determination of this
interval, if it be held an insufficient explanation, that the sacred
number three would be the first to suggest itself; there is a further
idea which might occur,—whether or not it be historical that Jesus was
buried on the evening before a sabbath,—namely, that he only remained
in the grave during the rest of the sabbath, and thus rose on the
morning after the sabbath πρωῒ πρώτῃ σαββάτω which by the known mode of
reckoning might be reconciled with the round number of three days.
[2160]

When once the idea of a resurrection of Jesus had been formed in this
manner, the great event could not be allowed to have happened so
simply, but must be surrounded and embellished with all the pomp which
the Jewish imagination furnished. The chief ornaments which stood at
command for this purpose, were angels: hence these must open the grave
of Jesus, must, after he had come forth from it, keep watch in the
empty place, and deliver to the women, who (because without doubt women
had had the first visions) must be the first to go to the grave, the
tidings of what had happened. As it was Galilee where Jesus
subsequently appeared to them, the journey of the disciples thither,
which was nothing else than their return home, somewhat hastened by
fear, was derived from the direction of an angel; nay, Jesus himself
must already before his death, and, as Matthew too zealously adds, once
more after the resurrection also, have enjoined this journey on the
disciples. But the further these narratives were propagated by
tradition, the more must the difference between the locality of the
resurrection itself and the appearances of the risen one, be allowed to
fall out of sight as inconvenient; and since the locality of the death
and resurrection was not transferable, the appearances were gradually
placed in the same locality as the resurrection,—in Jerusalem, which as
the more brilliant theatre and the seat of the first Christian Church,
was especially appropriate for them. [2161]

CHAPTER V.

THE ASCENSION.

§ 141.

THE LAST COMMANDS AND PROMISES OF JESUS.

In the last interview of Jesus with his disciples, which according to
Mark and Luke closed with the ascension, the three first Evangelists
(the fourth has something similar on the very first interview)
represent Jesus as delivering testamentary commands and promises, which
referred to the establishment and propagation of the messianic kingdom
on earth.

With regard to the commands, Jesus in Luke (xxiv. 47 f.; Acts i. 8) in
parting from his disciples appoints them to be witnesses of his
messiahship, and charges them to preach repentance and remission of
sins in his name from Jerusalem to the uttermost parts of the earth. In
Mark (xvi. 15 f.) he enjoins them to go into all the world and bring to
every creature the glad tidings of the messianic kingdom founded by
him; he who believes and is baptized will be saved, he who believeth
not, will (in the future messianic judgment) be condemned. In Matthew
(xxviii. 19 f.) the disciples are also commissioned to make disciples
of all nations πάντα τὰ ἔθνη, and here baptism is not mentioned
incidentally merely, as in Mark, but is made the subject of an express
command by Jesus, and is besides more precisely described as a baptism
in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, ἐις τὸ
ὄνομα τοῦ πατρὸς καὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ καὶ τοῦ ἁγίου πνεύματος.

The impediments to the supposition that Jesus delivered to his
disciples the express command to carry the announcement of the gospel
to the Gentiles, have been already pointed out in an earlier connexion.
[2162] But that this more definite form of baptism proceeded from
Jesus, is also opposed by the fact, that such an allocation of Father,
Son, and Spirit does not elsewhere appear, except as a form of
salutation in apostolic epistles (2 Cor. xiii. 14: the grace of our
Lord Jesus Christ, etc.); while as a more definite form of baptism it
is not to be met with throughout the whole New Testament save in the
above passage of the first gospel: for in the apostolic epistles and
even in the Acts, baptism is designated as a βαπτίζειν εἰς Χριστὸν
Ἰησοῦν, or εἰς τὸ ὄνομα τοῦ Κυρίου Ἰησοῦ baptising in Christ Jesus, or
in the name of the Lord Jesus, or their equivalent (Rom. vi. 3; Gal.
iii. 27; Acts ii. 38, viii. 16, x. 48, xix. 5), and the same threefold
reference to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit is only found in
ecclesiastical writers, as, for example, Justin. [2163] Indeed the
formula in Matthew sounds so exactly as if it had been borrowed from
the ecclesiastical ritual, that there is no slight probability in the
supposition that it was transferred from thence into the mouth of
Jesus. But this does not authorize us to throw the passage out of the
text as an interpolation, [2164] since, if everything in the gospels
which cannot have happened to Jesus, or which cannot have been done or
spoken by him in the manner there described, were to be pronounced
foreign to the original text, the interpolations would soon become too
numerous. So far it is with justice that others have defended the
genuineness of the baptismal formula; [2165] but their grounds for the
assertion that it was delivered in this manner by Jesus himself are
insufficient: the two opinions then resolve themselves into a third,
namely, that this more definite form of baptism does indeed belong to
the original context of the first gospel, but without having been so
delivered by Jesus. [2166] Jesus had, during his life, predicted in
divers ways the propagation of his kingdom beyond the limits of the
Jewish nation, perhaps also had intimated the introduction of baptism
to be his will; and—whether it be the fact that, as we learn in the
fourth gospel, the disciples already practised baptism in the lifetime
of Jesus, or that they first made this rite a sign of reception into
the new messianic society after his death,—in any case it was entirely
in the manner of the legend to place the injunction to baptize, as well
as to go out into all the world, in the mouth of the departing Christ
as a last declaration of his will.

The promises which Jesus gives to his adherents in parting from them,
are in Matthew, where they are directed exclusively to the eleven,
limited simply to the assurance that he, to whom as the exalted Messiah
all power was delivered both in heaven and on earth, would be invisibly
with them during the present age, αἰὼν, until at the consummation
συντέλεια of this term, he should enter into permanent visible
communion with them: precisely the expression of the belief which was
formed in the first Christian community, when the equilibrium was
recovered after the oscillations caused by the death of Jesus.—In Mark,
the last promises of Jesus seem to be gathered from the popular opinion
concerning the gifts of the Christians, which was current at the period
of the composition of this gospel. Of the signs, σημεία, which are here
promised to believers in general, the speaking with (new) tongues,
λαλεῖν γλώσσαις (καιναῖς) in the sense intended 1 Cor. xiv., not in the
manner described in Acts ii. which is a mythical modification, [2167]
actually appeared in the primitive church; as also the casting out of
devils δαιμόνια ἐκβάλλειν; and it may even be conceived that sick
persons were cured in a natural manner by faith in the laying on of
hands, ἐπίθεσις χειρων by a Christian: on the contrary the taking up of
serpents ὄφεις αἴρειν (comp. Luke x. 19) and the power of drinking
poisons with impunity, have never had any existence except in the
superstitious belief of the vulgar, and such signs of discipleship
would have been the last to which Jesus would have attached any
value.—In Luke, the object of the last promise of Jesus is the power
from on high δύναμις ἐξ ὕψους, which according to the promise of the
Father, ἐπαγγελία τοῦ πατρὸς, he would send on the apostles, and the
impartation of which they were to await in Jerusalem (xxiv. 49); and in
Acts i. 5 ff. Jesus more precisely designates this impartation of power
as a baptism with the Holy Spirit, πνεῦμα ἅγιον, which in a few days
would be granted to the disciples in order to qualify them for the
announcement of the gospel. These passages of Luke, which place the
impartation of the Holy Spirit in the days after the ascension, seem to
be in contradiction with the statement of the fourth gospel, that Jesus
communicated the Holy Spirit to his disciples in the days of his
resurrection, nay, on his very first appearance in the circle of the
eleven. In John xx. 22 f. we read, that Jesus, appearing among the
disciples when the doors were closed, breathed on them and said:
Receive ye the Holy Ghost, λάβετε πνεῦμα ἅγιον, wherewith he connected
the authority to remit and retain sins.

If this were the only passage relating to the impartation of the
Spirit, every one would believe that the disciples had it communicated
to them by Jesus when he was personally present among them, and not
first after his exaltation to heaven. But in accordance with the
harmonizing interest, it has been concluded, first by Theodore of
Mopsuestia, and recently by Tholuck, [2168] that the word λάβετε,
receive, in John, must be taken in the sense of λήψεσθε, ye shall
receive, because according to Luke the Holy Spirit was not imparted to
the disciples until later, at Pentecost. But as if he wished to
preclude such a wresting of his words, the Jesus of John adds to them
the symbolical action of breathing on the disciples, which unmistakably
represents the receiving of the Holy Spirit as a present fact. [2169]
It is true that expositors have found out a way of eluding even this
act of breathing, by attributing to it the following signification: as
certainly as Jesus now breathes upon them, so certainly will they at a
future time receive the Holy Ghost. [2170] But the act of breathing
upon a person is as decided a symbol of a present impartation as the
laying on of hands, and as those on whom the apostles laid their hands
were immediately filled with the Spirit (Acts viii. 17, xix. 6), so,
according to the above narrative, the author of the fourth gospel must
have thought that the Apostles on that occasion received the Spirit
from Jesus. In order to avoid the necessity of denying, in opposition
to the clear meaning of John, that an impartation of the Spirit
actually took place immediately after the resurrection, or of coming
into contradiction with Luke, who assigns the outpouring of the Spirit
to a later period, expositors now ordinarily suppose that the Spirit
was granted to the Apostles both at the earlier and the later period,
the impartation at Pentecost being only an increasing and perfecting of
the former. [2171] Or more correctly, since Matthew x. 20 speaks of the
Spirit of the Father as already sustaining the disciples in their first
mission: it is supposed that they were first endowed with some
extraordinary power before that mission, in the lifetime of Jesus; that
on the occasion in question, shortly after his resurrection, he
heightened this power; but that all the fulness of the Spirit was not
poured out upon them until Pentecost. [2172] What constitutes the
distinction between these steps, and especially in what the increase of
the gifts of the Spirit consisted in the present instance, is, however,
as Michaelis has already remarked, not easy to discern. If in the first
instance the apostles were endowed with the power of working miracles
(Matt. x. 1, 8) together with the gift of speaking freely (par)r(êsi/a)
before tribunals (v. 20), it could only be a more correct insight into
the spirituality of his kingdom that Jesus communicated to them by
breathing on them; but of this they were still destitute immediately
before the ascension, when, according to Acts i. 6, they asked whether,
with the impartation of the Spirit, within the next few days, would be
associated the restoration of the kingdom to Israel. If however it be
supposed that each successive impartation of the Spirit conferred no
new powers on the disciples, but was merely an addition in measure to
that which was already present in all its diversified powers: [2173] it
must still be held surprising that no Evangelist mentions, together
with an earlier impartation, a later amplification; but instead of
this, besides an incidental mention of the Spirit as enabling the
disciples to defend themselves before tribunals, in Luke (xii.
12),—which, since it is not here, as in Matthew, connected with a
mission, may be regarded merely as a reference to the time after the
later outpouring of the Spirit,—each of the Evangelists mentions only
one impartation, and represents this as the first and last. This is,
indeed, a clear proof that, to place in juxtaposition three
impartations and to regard them as so many different degrees, is only
an effort to harmonize the gospels by introducing into them what is
foreign to the text.

Thus there are in the New Testament three distinct opinions concerning
the impartation of the Spirit to the disciples of Jesus; and in two
respects they form a climax. As regards the time, Matthew places the
impartation the earliest—within the period of the natural life of
Jesus; Luke, the latest—in the time after his complete departure from
the earth; John in an intermediate position—in the days of the
resurrection. As regards the conception of the fact, it is the simplest
in Matthew, the least perceptible to the senses, for he has no special
and external act of impartation; John already has such a feature, in
the act of breathing on the disciples; while with Luke, in the Acts,
the gentle breathing has become a violent storm, which shakes the
house, and with which other miraculous appearances are united. These
two series of gradations stand in opposite relations to historical
probability. That the Spirit πνεῦμα, which, whether it be regarded as
natural or as supernatural, is in either case the animating power of
the messianic idea in its Christian modification, was communicated to
the adherents of Jesus so early as Matthew narrates, is contradicted by
his own representation, for according to him, that Christian
modification—the introduction of the characteristics of suffering and
death into the idea of the Messiah,—was not comprehended by the
disciples long after the mission described in Matt. x.; and as the
discourse of instructions there given contains other particulars also,
which will only suit later times and circumstances: it is easy to
imagine that the promise in question may have been erroneously referred
to that earlier period. Only after the death and resurrection of Jesus
can we conceive what the New Testament calls the πνεῦμα ἅγιον to have
been developed in the disciples, and in so far the representation of
John stands nearer to reality than that of Matthew; but, as certainly
the revolution in the sentiments of the disciples described in the
foregoing section, had not taken place so early as two days after the
crucifixion: the account of John does not approach so near to the truth
as that of Luke, who allows an interval of at least fifty days for the
formation of the new opinions in the disciples. The position of the
narratives with respect to historical truth is reversed by the other
climax. For in proportion as a narrative represents the impartation of
a spiritual power as perceptible to the senses, the formation of a
sentiment which might spring from natural causes as miraculous, the
origin of a faculty which can only have been developed gradually, as
instantaneous: in the same proportion does such a narrative diverge
from the truth; and in this respect, Matthew would stand at the least
distance from the truth, Luke at the greatest. If we therefore
recognise in the representation of the latter the most mature product
of tradition, it may be wondered how tradition can have wrought in two
opposite ways: receding from the truth in relation to the determination
of the manner and form of the impartation, approaching the truth in
relation to the determination of the time. But this is explained as
soon as it is considered, that in the changes in the determination of
the time, tradition was not guided by critical inquiry after truth—this
might well have caused surprise,—but by the same tendency that led to
the other alteration, namely, to present the impartation of the Spirit
as a single miraculous act. If Jesus was said to have shed the Spirit
on his disciples by a special act: it must seem appropriate to assign
this act to his state of glorification, and thus either with John to
place it after the resurrection, or with Luke after the ascension;
indeed the fourth Evangelist expressly remarks that in the lifetime of
Jesus, the Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet
glorified (vii. 39).

This interpretation of the opinion of the fourth Evangelist concerning
the impartation of the Spirit to the disciples, is attested as the
correct one by the fact, that it throws unexpected light on an
obscurity in his gospel with respect to which we were previously unable
to come to a decision. In relation to the farewell discourses of Jesus,
it was not possible to settle the dispute, whether what Jesus there
says of his return is to be referred to the days of his resurrection,
or to the outpouring of the Spirit, because the description of that
return as a seeing again seemed to speak as decidedly for the former,
as the observation that in that time they would no longer ask him
anything, and would understand him fully, for the latter: a dispute
which is decided in the most welcome manner, if it can be shown to be
the opinion of the narrator that the impartation of the Spirit fell in
the days of the resurrection. [2174] At first indeed it might be
thought, that this impartation, especially as in John it is connected
with the formal appointment of his disciples as his envoys, and the
communication of the authority to remit and retain sins (comp. Matt.
xviii. 18), would have been more appropriate at the close than the
commencement of the appearances of the risen Jesus, and in a full
assembly of the Apostles than in one from which Thomas was absent; but
on this account to suppose with Olshausen that the Evangelist for the
sake of brevity merely appends the impartation of the Spirit to the
first appearance, though it really belonged to a later interview, is an
inadmissible violence; and we must rather allow, that the author of the
fourth gospel regarded this first appearance of Jesus as the principal
one, and the one eight days later as merely supernumerary in favour of
Thomas. The appearance chap. xxi. is also a supplement, which the
author, when he wrote his gospel, either had not known, or at least did
not recollect.

§ 142.

THE SO-CALLED ASCENSION CONSIDERED AS A SUPERNATURAL AND AS A NATURAL
EVENT.

The ascension of Jesus is reported to us in the New Testament in three
different narratives, which in point of fulness of detail and
picturesqueness of description form a progressive series. Mark, who in
the last portion of his gospel is in general very brief and abrupt,
only says, that after Jesus had spoken to the disciples for the last
time, he was received up (ἀνελήφθη) into heaven and sat on the right
hand of God (xvi. 19). With scarcely more definiteness it is said in
the gospel of Luke that Jesus led his disciples out as far as Bethany,
ἐξω ἕως εἰς Βηθανίαν, and while he here with uplifted hands gave them
his blessing, he was parted from them (διέστη), and carried up into
heaven (ἐνεφέρετο); whereupon the disciples fell down and worshipped
him, and forthwith returned to Jerusalem with great joy (xxiv. 50 ff.).
In the introduction to the Acts, Luke gives more ample details
concerning this scene. On the mount of Olives, where Jesus delivered to
his disciples his last commands and promises, he was taken up before
their eyes (ἐπήρθη), and a cloud received him out of their sight. While
the disciples were watching him, as he went up into heaven on the
cloud, there suddenly stood by them two men in white apparel, who
induced them to desist from thus gazing after him by the assurance,
that the Jesus now taken from them would come again from heaven in the
same manner as he had just ascended into heaven; on which they were
satisfied, and returned to Jerusalem (i. 1–12).

The first impression from this narrative is clearly this: that it is
intended as a description of a miraculous event, an actual exaltation
of Jesus into heaven, as the dwelling-place of God, and an attestation
of this by angels; as orthodox theologians, both ancient and modern,
correctly maintain. The only question is, whether they can also help us
to surmount the difficulties which stand in our way when we attempt to
form a conception of such an event? One main difficulty is this: how
can a palpable body, which has still flesh and bones, and eats material
food, be qualified for a celestial abode? how can it so far liberate
itself from the laws of gravity, as to be capable of an ascent through
the air? and how can it be conceived that God gave so preternatural a
capability to Jesus by a miracle? [2175] The only possible reply to
these questions is, that the grosser elements which the body of Jesus
still retained after the resurrection, were removed before the
ascension, and only the finest essence of his corporeality, as the
integument of the soul, was taken by him into heaven. [2176] But as the
disciples who were present at the ascension observed no residuum of his
body which he had left behind, this leads either to the above mentioned
absurdity of an evaporation of the body of Jesus, or to Olshausen’s
process of subtilization which, still incomplete even after the
resurrection, was not perfected until the moment of the ascension; a
process which must have been conducted with singularly rapid retrograde
transitions in these last days, if the body of Jesus, when penetrating
into the closed room where the disciples were assembled, is to be
supposed immaterial; immediately after when Thomas touched him,
material; and lastly, in the ascension, again immaterial. The other
difficulty lies in the consideration, that according to a just idea of
the world, the seat of God and of the blessed, to which Jesus is
supposed to have been exalted, is not to be sought for in the upper
regions of the air, nor, in general, in any determinate place;—such a
locality could only be assigned to it in the childish, limited
conceptions of antiquity. We are well aware that he who would attain to
God and the circle of the blessed would make a superfluous circuit, if
he thought it necessary for this purpose to soar aloft into the higher
regions of the firmament; and the more intimately Jesus was acquainted
with God and divine things, the farther certainly would he be from
making such a circuit, or from being caused to make it by God. [2177]
Thus there would be no other resource than to suppose a divine
accommodation to the idea of the world in that age, and to say: God in
order to convince the disciples of the return of Jesus into the higher
world, although this world is in reality by no means to be sought for
in the upper air, nevertheless prepared the spectacle of such an
exaltation. [2178] But this is to represent God as theatrically
arranging an illusion.

As an attempt to set us free from such difficulties and absurdities,
the natural explanation of this narrative must needs be welcome. [2179]
This distinguishes in the evangelical accounts of the ascension, what
was actually beheld, and what was inferred by reasoning. Certainly,
when it is said in the Acts: while they beheld, he was taken up,
βλεπόντων αὐτῶν ἐπήρθη: the exaltation to heaven seems here to be
represented as a fact actually witnessed. But the Rationalists tell us
that we are not to understand ἐπήρθη, as signifying an elevation above
the earth, but only that Jesus, in order to bless the disciples, drew
up his form and thus appeared more elevated to them. They then bring
forward the word διέστη, he was parted from them, in the conclusion of
Luke’s gospel, and interpret it to mean that Jesus in taking leave of
his disciples removed himself farther from them. Hereupon, they
continue, in the same way as on the mount of Transfiguration, a cloud
was interposed between Jesus and the disciples, and together with the
numerous olive-trees on the mount, concealed him from their sight; a
result which, on the assurance of two unknown men, they regarded as a
reception of Jesus into heaven. But, when Luke in the Acts immediately
connects ἐπήρθη with the statement, and a cloud received him, καὶ
νεφέλη ὑπέλαβεν αὐτὸν: he implies that the taking up was an
introduction to the being received by the cloud; which it would not be
if it were a mere drawing up of the body, but only if it were an
exaltation of Jesus above the earth, since only in this case could a
cloud float under, carry, and envelop him, which is the idea expressed
by ὑπέλαβεν. Again, in the Gospel of Luke, the fact that he was parted
from them is represented as something which took place while he blessed
them, ἐν τῷ εὐλογεῖν αὐτον αὐτοὺς; now no one when pronouncing a
benediction on another, will remove from him: whereas it appears very
suitable, that Jesus while communicating his blessing to the disciples
should be carried upward, and thus, while rising, have continued to
extend over them his outstretched hand as a symbol of his blessing.
Thus the natural explanation of the disappearance in the cloud falls to
the ground of itself; while in the supposition that the two individuals
clothed in white apparel were natural men, Paulus only disguises a
final and strongly marked essay of the opinion espoused by Bahrdt and
Venturini, that several epochs in the life of Jesus, especially after
his crucifixion, were brought about by the agency of secret colleagues.
And Jesus himself—what, according to this opinion, must we suppose to
have become of him after this last separation from his disciples? Shall
we, with Bahrdt, dream of an Essene lodge, into which he retired after
the completion of his work? and with Brennecke appeal, in proof that
Jesus long continued silently to work for the welfare of mankind, to
his appearance for the purpose of the conversion of Paul? But, taking
the narrative of the Acts as historical, this was connected with
circumstances and effects which could be produced by no natural man,
even though a member of a secret order. Or shall we with Paulus
suppose, that shortly after the last interview the body of Jesus sank
beneath the injuries it had received? This could not well have happened
in the very next moments after he had appeared still active among his
disciples, so that the two men who joined them might have been
witnesses of his decease,—who, even admitting this, would not have
spoken in accordance with the truth; but if he continued to live for
any length of time he must have had the intention to remain for that
period in the concealment of a secret society; and to this must then be
supposed to belong the two men clothed in white, who, doubtless with
his previous sanction, persuaded the disciples that he had ascended
into heaven. [2180] But this is a mode of representation, from which in
this instance as in every other, a sound judgment must turn away with
aversion.

§ 143.

INSUFFICIENCY OF THE NARRATIVES OF THE ASCENSION. MYTHICAL CONCEPTION
OF THOSE NARRATIVES.

Among all the New Testament histories of miracles, the ascension least
demanded such an expenditure of perverted acumen, since the
attestations to its historical validity are peculiarly weak,—not only
to us who, having no risen Jesus, can consequently have no ascended
one, but apart from all prior conclusions and in every point of view.
Matthew and John, who according to the common idea were the two
eyewitnesses among the Evangelists, do not mention it; it is narrated
by Mark and Luke alone, while in the rest of the New Testament writings
decided allusions to it are wanting. But this absence of allusions to
the ascension in the rest of the New Testament is denied by orthodox
expositors. When, say they, Jesus in Matthew (xxvi. 64), declares
before the high priest, that hereafter the Son of Man will be seen
sitting at the right hand of God: this presupposes an exaltation
thither, consequently an ascension; when in John (iii. 13), he says, no
one hath ascended into heaven but the Son of Man who came from heaven,
and at another time (vi. 62) tells the disciples that they will
hereafter see him ascend where he was before; further, when on the
morning of the resurrection he declares that he is not yet ascended to
his Father, implying that he is about to do so (xx. 17): there could
hardly be more explicit allusions to the ascension; again, when the
apostles in the Acts so often speak of an exaltation of Jesus to the
right hand of God (ii. 33, v. 31, comp. vii. 56), and Paul represents
him as ascended up far above all heavens ἀναβὰς ὑπεράνω πάντων τῶν
οὐρανῶν (Ephes. iv. 10), Peter, as gone into heaven πορευθεὶς εἰς
οὐρανὸν (1 Pet. iii. 22): there can be no doubt that they all knew of
his ascension. [2181] All these passages, however, with the exception
perhaps of John vi. 62, where a SEEING the Son of Man ascend, θεωρεῖν
ἀναβαίνοντα τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, is spoken of, contain only in
general his exaltation to heaven, without intimating that it was an
external, visible fact, that took place in the presence of the
disciples. Rather, when we find Paul in 1 Cor. xv. 5 ff. ranking the
appearance of Jesus to himself, which occurred long after the alleged
ascension, with the Christophanies before this epoch, so entirely
without any pause or indication of a distinction: we must doubt, not
merely that all the appearances which he enumerates besides his own can
have occurred before the ascension, [2182] but whether the Apostle can
have had any knowledge at all of an ascension as an external fact which
closed the earthly life of Jesus. As to the author of the fourth
gospel,—in his metaphorical language, we are not compelled by the word
θεωρῆτε, any more than by the ὄψεσθε in relation to the angels
ascending and descending upon Jesus, i. 52, to ascribe to him a
knowledge of the visible ascension of Jesus, of which he gives no
intimation at the conclusion of his gospel.

Commentators have, it is true, taken all possible pains to explain the
want of a narrative of the ascension in the first and fourth gospels,
in a way which may not prove inimical either to the authority of the
writings, or to the historical value of the fact. They maintain that
the Evangelists who are silent on the subject, held it either
unnecessary, or impossible, to narrate the ascension. They held it
unnecessary, say these expositors, either intrinsically, from the minor
importance of the event; [2183] or extrinsically, on the consideration
that it was generally known as a part of the evangelical tradition;
[2184] John in particular supposed it to be known from Mark and Luke;
[2185] or lastly, both Matthew and John omitted it as not belonging to
the earthly life of Jesus, to the description of which their writings
were exclusively devoted. [2186] But we must contend, on the contrary,
that the life of Jesus, especially that enigmatical life which he led
after his return from the grave, absolutely required such a close as
the ascension. Whether it were generally known or not, whether it were
important or unimportant,—the simple æsthetic interest which dictates
even to an uncultivated author, that a narrative should be wound up
with a conclusion, must have led every evangelical writer who knew of
the ascension to mention it, though it were but summarily at the end of
his history, in order to avoid the strange impression left by the first
gospel and still more by the fourth, as narratives losing themselves in
vague obscurity. Hence our apologists resort to the supposition that
the first and fourth Evangelists held it impossible to give an account
of the ascension of Jesus, because the eyewitnesses, however long they
might gaze after him, could still only see him hovering in the air and
encircled by the cloud, not entering heaven and taking his place on the
right hand of God. [2187] But in the ideas of the ancient world, to
which heaven was nearer than to us, an entrance into the clouds was in
itself a real ascent into heaven, as we see from the stories of Romulus
and Elijah.

Thus it is undeniable that the above Evangelists were ignorant of the
ascension: but the conclusion of the most recent criticism, that this
ignorance is a reproach to the first Evangelist as a sign of his
unapostolic character, [2188] is the less in place here, because the
event in question is rendered suspicious not merely by the silence of
two Evangelists, but also by the want of agreement between those who
narrate it. Mark is at variance with Luke, nay, Luke is at variance
with himself. In the account of the former, it appears as if Jesus had
ascended into heaven immediately from the meal in which he appeared to
the eleven, consequently from out of a house in Jerusalem; for the
phrases: he appeared with the eleven as they sat at meat, and upbraided
them—and he said—So then after the Lord had spoken unto them he was
received up into heaven, etc., ἀνακειμένοις—ἐφανερώθη· καὶ ὠνείδισε—καὶ
ἐ͂ιπεν—Ὁ μὲν οὖν κύριος, μετὰ τὸ λαλῆσαι αὐτοῖς, ἀνελήφθη κ.τ.λ. have an
immediate dependence on each other, and it is only by violence that a
change of place or a distinction of time can be introduced. [2189] Now
an ascent into heaven directly out of a room is certainly not easy to
imagine; hence Luke represents it as taking place in the open air. In
his gospel he makes Jesus immediately before his ascension, lead out
his disciples as far as Bethany ἕως εἰς Βηθανίαν, but in the Acts he
places the scene on the mount called Olivet ὄρος τὸ καλούμενον ἐλαιῶνα;
this, however, cannot be imputed to him as a contradiction, since
Bethany lay in the neighbourhood of the mount of Olives. [2190] But
there is a more important divergency in his statement of time; for in
his gospel, as in Mark, we are left to infer that the ascension took
place on the same day with the resurrection: whereas in the Acts it is
expressly remarked, that the two events were separated by an interval
of forty days. It has already been remarked that the latter
determination of time must have come to the knowledge of Luke in the
interim between the composition of the gospel and that of the Acts. The
more numerous the narratives of appearances of the risen Jesus, and the
more various the places to which they were assigned: the less would the
short space of a day suffice for his life on earth after the
resurrection; while the determination of the lengthened period which
had become necessary to forty days precisely, had its foundation in the
part which this number is known to have played in the Jewish, and
already in the Christian legend. The people of Israel were forty years
in the wilderness; Moses was forty days on mount Sinai; he and Elias
fasted forty days; and Jesus himself previous to the temptation
remained the same length of time without nourishment in the wilderness.
As, then, all these mysterious intermediate states and periods of
transition were determined by the number forty: this number presented
itself as especially appropriate for the determination of the
mysterious interval between the resurrection and ascension of Jesus.
[2191]

As regards the description of the event itself, it might be thought
admissible to ascribe the silence of Mark, and of Luke in his gospel,
concerning the cloud and the angels, purely to the brevity of their
narratives; but since Luke at the close of his gospel narrates
circumstantially enough the conduct of the disciples—how they fell down
and worshipped the ascended Jesus, and returned to the city with great
joy: so he would doubtless have pointed out the information
communicated to them by angels as the immediate source of their joy,
had he known anything of such a particular at the time when he composed
his first writing. Hence this feature seems rather to have been
gradually formed in tradition, in order to render due honour to this
last point also in the life of Jesus, and to present a confirmation of
the insufficient testimony of men as to his exaltation into heaven by
the mouth of two heavenly witnesses.

As, according to this, those who knew of an ascension of Jesus, had by
no means the same idea of its particular circumstances: there must have
been in general two different modes of conceiving the close of the life
of Jesus; some regarding it as a visible ascension, others not so.
[2192] When Matthew makes Jesus before the tribunal of the high priest
predict his exaltation to the right hand of the divine power (xxvi.
64), and after his resurrection declare that now all power is given to
him in heaven and earth (xxviii. 18); and nevertheless has nothing of a
visible ascension, but on the contrary puts into the mouth of Jesus the
assurance: I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world, ἐγὼ
μεθ’ ὑμῶν εἰμι πάσας τὰς ἡμέρας ἕως τῆς συντελείας τοῦ αἰῶνος (v. 20):
it is evident that the latent idea, on which his representation is
founded, is that Jesus, doubtless immediately on his resurrection,
ascended invisibly to the Father, though at the same time remaining
invisibly with his followers; and that out of this concealment he, as
often as he found it expedient, revealed himself in Christophanies. The
same view is to be discerned in the Apostle Paul, when in 1 Cor. xv. he
undistinguishingly places the appearance to himself of the Christ
already ascended into heaven, in one series with the earlier
Christophanies; and also the author of the fourth gospel and the rest
of the New Testament writers only presuppose what must necessarily be
presupposed according to the messianic passage: Sit thou at my right
hand, Ps. cx. 1: that Jesus was exalted to the right hand of God;
without deciding anything as to the manner of the exaltation, or
representing to themselves the ascension as a visible one. The
imagination of the primitive Christians must however have felt a strong
temptation to depict this exaltation as a brilliant spectacle. When it
was once concluded that the Messiah Jesus had arrived at so exalted a
position, it would appear desirable to gaze after him, as it were, on
his way thither. If it was expected, in accordance with the prophecy of
Daniel, that his future return from heaven would be a visible descent
in the clouds: this would naturally suggest that his departure to
heaven should be represented as a visible ascent on a cloud; and when
Luke makes the two white-apparelled angels, who joined the disciples
after the removal of Jesus, say: this same Jesus, who is taken up from
you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go
into heaven (Acts i. 11): we need only take the converse of this
declaration in order to have before us the genesis of the conception of
the ascension of Jesus; for the mode of conclusion was this: as Jesus
will at some future time return from heaven in the clouds, so he must
surely have departed thither [2193] in the same manner.

Compared with these primary incentives, the Old Testament precedents
which the ascension of Jesus has in the translation of Enoch (Gen. v.
24; comp. Wis. xliv. 16, xlix. 16; Heb. xi. 5), and especially in the
ascension of Elijah (2 Kings ii. 11; comp. Wis. xlviii. 9; 1 Macc. ii.
58), together with the Grecian and Roman apotheoses of Hercules and
Romulus, recede into the background. Apart from the question whether
the latter were known to the second and third Evangelists; the
statement relative to Enoch is too vague; while the chariot and horses
of fire that transported Elijah were not adapted to the milder spirit
of Christ. Instead of this the enveloping cloud and the removal while
holding a farewell conversation, may appear to have been borrowed from
the later representation of the removal of Moses, which however in
other particulars has considerable divergencies from that of Jesus.
[2194] Perhaps also one trait in the narrative of the Acts may be
explained out of the history of Elijah. When this prophet, before his
translation, is entreated by his servant Elisha that he will bequeath
him a double measure of his spirit: Elijah attaches to the concession
of this boon the condition: if thou see me when I am taken from thee,
it shall be so unto thee; but if not, it shall not be so; whence we
might perhaps gather the reason why Luke (Acts i. 9) lays stress on the
fact that the disciples beheld Jesus as he went up (βλεπόντων αὐτῶν
ἐπήρθη): namely, because, according to the narrative concerning Elijah,
this was necessary, if the disciples were to receive the spirit of
their master.

CONCLUDING DISSERTATION.

THE DOGMATIC IMPORT OF THE LIFE OF JESUS.

§ 144.

NECESSARY TRANSITION FROM CRITICISM TO DOGMA.

The results of the inquiry which we have now brought to a close, have
apparently annihilated the greatest and most valuable part of that
which the Christian has been wont to believe concerning his Saviour
Jesus, have uprooted all the animating motives which he has gathered
from his faith, and withered all his consolations. The boundless store
of truth and life which for eighteen centuries has been the aliment of
humanity, seems irretrievably dissipated; the most sublime levelled
with the dust, God divested of his grace, man of his dignity, and the
tie between heaven and earth broken. Piety turns away with horror from
so fearful an act of desecration, and strong in the impregnable
self-evidence of its faith, pronounces that, let an audacious criticism
attempt what it will, all which the Scriptures declare, and the Church
believes of Christ, will still subsist as eternal truth, nor needs one
iota of it to be renounced. Thus at the conclusion of the criticism of
the history of Jesus, there presents itself this problem: to
re-establish dogmatically that which has been destroyed critically.

At the first glance, this problem appears to exist merely as a
challenge addressed by the believer to the critic, not as a result of
the moral requirements of either. The believer would appear to need no
re-establishment of the faith, since for him it cannot be subverted by
criticism. The critic seems to require no such re-establishment, since
he is able to endure the annihilation resulting from his own labours.
Hence it might be supposed that the critic, when he seeks to rescue the
dogma from the flames which his criticism has kindled, acts falsely in
relation to his own point of view, since, to satisfy the believer, he
treats what is valueless for himself as if he esteemed it to be a
jewel; while in relation to the believer, he is undertaking a
superfluous task, in labouring to defend that which the latter
considers in no way endangered.

But on a nearer view the case appears otherwise. To all belief, not
built on demonstration, doubt is inherent, though it may not be
developed; the most firmly believing Christian has within him the
elements of criticism as a latent deposit of unbelief, or rather as a
negative germ of knowledge, and only by its constant repression can he
maintain the predominance of his faith, which is thus essentially a
re-established faith. And just as the believer is intrinsically a
sceptic or critic, so, on the other hand, the critic is intrinsically a
believer. In proportion as he is distinguished from the naturalistic
theologian, and the free-thinker,—in proportion as his criticism is
conceived in the spirit of the nineteenth century,—he is filled with
veneration for every religion, and especially for the substance of the
sublimest of all religions, the Christian, which he perceives to be
identical with the deepest philosophical truth; and hence, after having
in the course of his criticism exhibited only the differences between
his conviction and the historical belief of the Christian, he will feel
urged to place that identity in a just light.

Further, our criticism, though in its progress it treats of details,
yet on becoming part of our internal conviction, resolves itself into
the simple element of doubt, which the believer neutralizes by an
equally simple veto, and then spreads anew in undiminished luxuriance
all the fulness of his creed. But hereby the decisions of criticism are
only dismissed, not vanquished, and that which is believed is supported
by no intermediate proof, but rests absolutely on its own evidence.
Criticism cannot but direct itself against this absence of intermediate
proof, and thus the controversy which seemed ended is renewed, and we
are thrown back to the beginning of our inquiry; yet with a difference
which constitutes a step forward in the discussion. Hitherto our
criticism had for its object the data of Christianity, as historically
presented in the evangelical records; now, these data having been
called in question in their historical form, assume that of a mental
product, and find a refuge in the soul of the believer; where they
exist, not as a simple history, but as a reflected history, that is, a
confession of faith, a received dogma. Against this dogma, presenting
itself totally unsupported by evidence, criticism must indeed awake, as
it does against all deficiency of proof, in the character of a
negativing power, and a contender for intermediate proof: it will,
however, no longer be occupied with history, but with doctrines. Thus
our historical criticism is followed up by dogmatical criticism, and it
is only after the faith has passed through both these trials, that it
is thoroughly tested and constituted science.

This second process through which the faith has to pass, ought, like
the first, to be made the subject of a distinct work: I shall here
merely give a sketch of its most important features, that I may not
terminate an historical criticism without pointing out its ultimate
object, which can only be arrived at by dogmatical criticism as a
sequel.

§ 145.

THE CHRISTOLOGY OF THE ORTHODOX SYSTEM.

The dogmatic import of the life of Jesus implicitly received, and
developed on this basis, constitutes the orthodox doctrine of the
Christ.

Its fundamental principles are found in the New Testament. The root of
faith in Jesus was the conviction of his resurrection. He who had been
put to death, however great during his life, could not, it was thought,
be the Messiah: his miraculous restoration to life proved so much the
more strongly that he was the Messiah. Freed by his resurrection from
the kingdom of shades, and at the same time elevated above the sphere
of earthly humanity, he was now translated to the heavenly regions, and
had taken his place at the right hand of God (Acts ii. 32 ff., iii. 15
ff., v. 30 ff.; and elsewhere). Now, his death appeared to be the chief
article in his messianic destination; according to Isa. liii., he had
suffered for the sins of his people and of mankind (Acts viii. 32 ff.;
comp. Matt. xx. 28; John i. 29, 36; 1 John ii. 2); his blood poured out
on the cross, operated like that which on the great day of atonement
the high priest sprinkled on the mercy-seat (Rom. iii. 25); he was the
pure lamb by whose blood the believing are redeemed (1 Pet. i. 18 f.);
the eternal, sinless high priest, who by the offering of his own body,
at once effected that, which the Jewish high priests were unable to
effect, by their perpetually repeated sacrifices of animals (Heb. x. 10
ff., etc.). But, thenceforth, the Messiah who was exalted to the right
hand of God, could not have been a common man: not only was he anointed
with the divine spirit in a greater measure than any prophet (Acts iv.
27, x. 38); not only did he prove himself to be a divine messenger by
miracles and signs (Acts ii. 22); but also, according as the one idea
or the other was most readily formed, either he was supernaturally
engendered by the Holy Spirit (Matt. and Luke i.), or he had descended
as the Word and Wisdom of God into an earthly body (John i.). As,
before his appearance on the earth, he was in the bosom of the Father,
in divine majesty (John xvii. 5); so his descent into the world of
mortals, and still more his submission to an ignominious death, was a
voluntary humiliation, to which he was moved by his love to mankind
(Phil. ii. 5 ff.). The risen and ascended Jesus will one day return to
wake the dead and judge the world (Acts i. 11, xvii. 31); he even now
takes charge of his church (Rom. viii. 34; 1 John ii. 1), participating
in the government of the world, as he originally did in its creation
(Matt. xxviii. 18; John i. 3, 10; Col. i. 16 f.). In addition to all
this, every trait in the image of the Messiah as sketched by the
popular expectation, was attributed with necessary or gratuitous
modifications to Jesus; nay, the imagination, once stimulated, invented
new characteristics.

How richly fraught with blessing and elevation, with encouragement and
consolation, were the thoughts which the early Church derived from this
view of the Christ! By the mission of the Son of God into the world, by
his delivery of himself to death for the sake of the world, heaven and
earth are reconciled (2 Cor. v. 18 ff.; Eph. i. 10; Col. i. 20); by
this most stupendous sacrifice, the love of God is securely guaranteed
to man (Rom. v. 8 ff., viii. 31 ff.; 1 John iv. 9), and the brightest
hopes are revealed to him. Did the Son of God become man? Then are men
his brethren, and as such the children of God, and heirs with Christ to
the treasure of divine bliss (Rom. viii. 16 f., 29). The servile
relation of man to God, as it existed under the law, has ceased; love
has taken the place of the fear of the punishment threatened by the law
(Rom. viii. 15; Gal. iv. 1 ff.). Believers are redeemed from the curse
of the law by Christ’s sacrifice of himself, inasmuch as he suffered a
death on which the law had laid a curse (Gal. iii. 13). Now, there is
no longer imposed on us the impossible task of satisfying all the
demands of the law (Gal. iii. 10 f.)—a task which, as experience shows,
no man fulfils (Rom. i. 18-iii. 20), which, by reason of his sinful
nature, no man can fulfil (Rom. v. 12 ff.), and which only involves him
who strives to fulfil it, more and more deeply in the most miserable
conflict with himself (Rom. vii. 7 ff.): whereas he who believes in
Christ, and confides in the atoning efficacy of his death, possesses
the favour of God; not by works and qualifications of his own, but by
the free mercy of God, is the man who throws himself on that mercy just
before God, by which all self-exaltation is excluded (Rom. iii. 31
ff.). As the Mosaic law is no longer binding on the believer, he being
dead to it with Christ (Rom. vii. 1 ff.); as, moreover, by the eternal
and all-sufficient sacrifice of Christ, the Jewish sacrificial and
priestly service is abolished (Heb.); therefore the partition wall
which separated the Jews and Gentiles is broken down: the latter, who
before were aliens and strangers to the theocracy, without God and
without hope in the world, are now invited to participate in the new
covenant, and free access is opened to them to the paternal God; so
that the two portions of mankind, formerly separated by hostile
opinions, are now at peace with each other, members in common of the
body of Christ—stones in the spiritual building of his Church (Eph. ii.
11 ff.). But to have justifying faith in the death of Christ, is,
virtually, to die with him spiritually—that is, to die to sin; and as
Christ arose from the dead to a new and immortal life, so must the
believer in him arise from the death of sin to a new life of
righteousness and holiness, put off the old man and put on the new
(Rom. vi. 1 ff.). In this, Christ himself aids him by his Spirit, who
fills those whom he inspires with spiritual strivings, and makes them
ever more and more free from the slavery of sin (Rom. viii. 1 ff.). Nor
alone spiritually, will the Spirit of Christ animate those in whom he
dwells, but corporeally also, for at the end of their earthly course,
God, through Christ, will resuscitate their bodies, as he did the body
of Christ (Rom. viii. 11). Christ, whom the bonds of death and the
nether world could not hold, has vanquished both for us, and has
delivered the believer from the fear of these dread powers which rule
over mortality (Rom. viii. 38 f.; 1 Cor. xv. 55 ff.; Heb. ii. 14 f.).
His resurrection not only confers atoning efficacy on his death (Rom.
iv. 25), but at the same time is the pledge of our own future
resurrection, of our share in Christ in a future life, in his messianic
kingdom, to the blessedness of which he will, at his second advent,
lead all his people. Meanwhile, we may console ourselves that we have
in him an Intercessor, who from his own experience of the weakness and
frailty of our nature, which he himself assumed, and in which he was in
all points tempted as we are, but without sin, knows how much
indulgence and aid we need (Heb. ii. 17 f., iv. 15 f.).

The expediency of describing in compendious forms the riches of their
faith in Christ, was early felt by his followers. They celebrated him
as Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is even at
the right hand of God, who also maketh intercession for us, Χριστὸς ὁ
ἀποθανών, μᾶλλον δὲ καὶ ἐγερθεὶς, ὃς καὶ ἔστιν ἐν δεξιᾷ τοῦ θεοῦ, ὅς
καὶ ἐντυνχάνει ὑπὲρ ἡμῶν (Rom. viii. 34); or with more particularity as
Jesus Christ our Lord, who was made of the seed of David according to
the flesh, and declared to be the Son of God with power, according to
the Spirit of holiness, by the resurrection from the dead, Ἰ. Χ. ὁ
Κύριος, γενόμενος ἐκ σπέρματος Δαβὶδ κατὰ σάρκα, ὁρισθεὶς υἱὸς θεοῦ ἐν
δυνάμει κατὰ πνεῦμα ἁγιωσύνης, ἐξ ἀναστάσεως νεκρῶν (Rom. i. 3 f.); and
as confessedly the great mystery of godliness, ὁμολογουμένως μέγα τῆς
εὐσεβείας μυστήριον, the following propositions were presented: God was
manifest in the flesh, justified in the Spirit, seen of angels,
preached unto the Gentiles, believed on in the world, received up into
glory, θεὸς ἐφανερώθη ἐν σαρκὶ, ἐδικαιώθη ἐν πνεύματι, ὤφθη ἀγγέλοις,
ἐκηρυχθη ἐν ἔθνεσιν, ἐπιστεύθη ἐν κόσμῳ, ἀνελήφθη ἐν δόξῃ (1 Tim. iii.
16).

The baptismal formula (Matt. xxviii. 19), by its allocation of Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost, presented a sort of framework in which to arrange
the materials of the new faith. On this basis was constructed in the
first centuries what was called the rule of faith, regula fidei, which
in divers forms, some more concise, others more diffuse, some more
popular, others more subtle, is found in the different fathers. [2195]
The more popular form at length settled into what is called the creed
of the apostles. This symbol, in that edition of it which is received
in the evangelical church, has in its second and most elaborate article
on the Son, the following points of belief: et (credo) in Jesum
Christum, filium ejus (Dei patris) unicum, Dominum nostrum; qui
conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria virgine; passus sub
Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus et sepultus, descendit ad inferna;
tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad cœlos, sedet ad dextram
Dei patris omnipotentis; inde venturus est, judicare vivos et mortuos.

Together with this popular form of the confession of faith in relation
to Christ, there was also framed a more rigorous and minute theological
digest, occasioned by the differences and controversies which early
arose on certain points. The fundamental thesis of the Christian faith,
that the Word was made flesh, ὁ λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο, or, God was
manifested in the flesh, θεὸς ἐφανερώθη ἐν σαρκὶ, was endangered on all
sides, one questioning the Godhead, another the manhood, and a third
the veritable union of the two natures.

It is true that those who, like the Ebionites, denied the Godhead, or
like that sect of the Gnostics called Docetæ, the manhood of Christ,
separated themselves too decidedly from the Christian community, which
on her part maintained that it was necessary that the mediator of God
and man should unite both in friendship and harmony by means of a
proper relationship to each, and that while he represented man to God,
he should reveal God to man, ἔδει τὸν μεσίτην θεοῦ τε καὶ ἀνθρώπων διὰ
ἰδίας πρὸς ἑκατέρους οἰκειότητος εἰς φιλίαν καὶ ὁμόνοιαν τοὺς
ἀμφοτέρους συναγαγεῖν, καὶ θεῷ μὲν παραστῆσαι τὸν ἄνθρωπον, ἀνθρώποις
δὲ γνωρίσαι τὸν θεόν. [2196] But when it was merely the plenitude of
the one nature or the other, which was contested,—as when Arius
maintained that the being who became man in Christ was indeed divine,
but created, and subordinate to the supreme God; when, while ascribing
to Christ a human body, he held that the place of the soul was occupied
by that superior being; when Apollinaris maintained that not only the
body of Jesus was truly human, but his soul also, and that the divine
being only served in the stead of the third principle in man, the νοῦς
(understanding);—these were opinions to which it was easier to give a
Christian guise. Nevertheless the Church rejected the Arian idea of a
subordinate God become man in Jesus, for this reason among others less
essential, that on this theory the image of the Godhead would not have
been manifested in Christ; [2197] and she condemned the idea of Arius
and Apollinaris, that the human nature of Christ had not the human ψυχὴ
(soul), or the human νοῦς (understanding), for this reason chiefly,
that only by the union of the divine, with an entire human nature,
could the human race be redeemed. [2198]

Not only might the one or the other aspect of the nature of Christ be
defaced or put out of sight, but in relation also to the union of the
two, there might be error, and again in two opposite directions. The
devout enthusiasm of many led them to believe, that they could not draw
too closely the newly-entwined bond between heaven and earth; hence
they no longer wished to distinguish between the Godhead and manhood in
Christ, and since he had appeared in one person, they acknowledged in
him only one nature, that of the Son of God made flesh. Others, more
scrupulous, could not reconcile themselves to such a confusion of the
divine and the human: it seemed to them blasphemous to say that a human
mother had given birth to God: hence they maintained that she had only
borne the man whom the Son of God selected as his temple; and that in
Christ there were two natures, united indeed so far as the adoration of
his followers was concerned, but distinct as regarded their essence. To
the Church, both these views appeared to encroach on the mystery of the
incarnation: if the two natures were held to be permanently distinct,
then was the union of the divine and human, the vital point of
Christianity, destroyed; if a mixture of the two were admitted, then
neither nature in its individual quality was capable of a union with
the other, and thus again no true unity would be attained. Hence both
these opinions were condemned, the latter in the person of Eutyches,
the former, not with equal justice, in that of Nestorius; and as the
Nicene creed established the true Godhead of Christ, so that of
Chalcedon established his true and perfect manhood, and the union of
the two natures in one undivided person. [2199] When subsequently there
arose a controversy concerning the will of Christ, analogous to that
concerning his nature, the Church, in accordance with its previous
decisions, pronounced that in Christ, as the God-man, there were two
wills, distinct but not discordant, the human will being subordinate to
the divine. [2200]

In comparison with the controversies on the being and essence of
Christ, the other branch of the faith, the doctrine of his work, was
developed in tranquillity. The most comprehensive view of it was this:
the Son of God, by assuming the human nature, gave it a holy and divine
character [2201]—above all he endowed it with immortality; [2202] while
in a moral view, the mission of the Son of God into the world being the
highest proof of the love of God, was the most efficacious means of
awakening a return of love in the human breast. [2203] To this one
great effect of the appearance of Christ, were annexed collateral
benefits: his salutary teaching, his sublime example, were held up to
view, [2204] but especial importance was attached to the violent death
which he suffered. The idea of substitution, already given in the New
Testament, was more fully developed: the death of Jesus was regarded,
now as a ransom paid by him to the devil for the liberation of mankind,
who had fallen into the power of the evil one through sin; now as a
means devised by God for removing guilt, and enabling him to remit the
punishment threatened to the sins of man, without detriment to his
truthfulness, Christ having taken that punishment on himself. [2205]
The latter idea was worked up by Anselm, in his book entitled Cur Deus
homo, into the well known theory of satisfaction, by which the doctrine
of Christ’s work of redemption is placed in the closest connexion with
that of his person. Man owes to God perfect obedience; but the
sinner—and such, are all men—withholds from God the service and honour
which are His due. Now God, by reason of his justice, cannot suffer an
offence against his honour: therefore, either man must voluntarily
restore to God that which is God’s, nay, must, for complete
satisfaction, render to him more than he has hitherto withheld; or, God
must as a punishment take from man that which is man’s, namely, the
happiness for which he was originally created. Man is not able to do
the former; for as he owes to God all the duties that he can perform,
in order not to fall into sin, he can have no overplus of merit,
wherewith to cover past sins. On the other hand, that God should obtain
satisfaction by the infliction of eternal punishment, is opposed to his
unchangeable goodness, which moves him actually to lead man to that
bliss for which he was originally destined. This, however, cannot
happen consistently with divine justice, unless satisfaction be made
for man, and according to the measure of that which has been taken from
God, something be rendered to him, greater than all else except God.
But this can be none other than God himself; and as, on the other hand,
man alone can satisfy for man: it must therefore be a God-man who gives
satisfaction. Moreover this cannot consist in active obedience, in a
sinless life, because every reasonable being owes this to God on his
own behalf; but to suffer death, the wages of sin, a sinless being is
not bound, and thus the satisfaction for the sins of man consists in
the death of the God-man, whose reward, since he himself, as one with
God, cannot be rewarded, is put to the account of man.

This doctrinal system of the ancient church concerning the person and
work of Christ, passed also into the confessions of the Lutheran
churches, and was still more elaborately developed by their
theologians. [2206] With regard to the person of Christ, they adhered
to the union of the divine and human natures in one person: according
to them, in the act of this union, unitio personalis, which was
simultaneous with the conception, it was the divine nature of the Son
of God which adopted the human into the unity of its personality; the
state of union, the unio personalis, was neither essential, nor yet
merely accidental, neither mystical nor moral, still less merely
verbal, but a real and supernatural union, and eternal in its duration.
From this union with the divine nature, there result to the human
nature in Christ certain pre-eminent advantages: namely, what at first
appears a deficiency, that of being in itself impersonal, and of having
personality only by its union with the divine nature; further,
impeccability, and the possibility of not dying. Besides these special
advantages, the human nature of Christ obtains others also from its
union with the divine. The relation of the two natures is not a dead,
external one, but a reciprocal penetration, a περιχώρησις; an union not
like that of two boards glued together, but like that of fire and metal
in glowing iron, or of the body and soul in man. This communion of
natures, communio naturarum, is manifested by a communication of
properties, communicatio idiomatum, in virtue of which the human nature
participates in the advantages of the divine, and the divine in the
redeeming work of the human. This relation is expressed in the
propositions concerning the person, propositionibus personalibus, and
those concerning the properties, idiomaticis; the former are
propositions in which the concrete of the one nature, i.e. the one
nature as conceived in the person of Christ, is predicated of the
other, as in 1 Cor. xv. 47: the second man is the Lord from heaven; the
latter are propositions in which determinations of one or the other
nature, are referred to the entire person (genus idiomaticum), or in
which acts of the entire person are referred to one or the other nature
(genus apotelesmaticum), or lastly, in which attributes of the one
nature are transferred to the other, which however is only possible
from the divine to the human, not from the human to the divine (genus
auchematicum).

In passing through the successive stages of the work of redemption,
Christ with his person endowed with two natures, experienced, according
to the expression of the dogmatical theologians, founded on Phil. ii. 6
ff., two states, statum exinanitionis, and statum exaltationis. His
human nature in its union with the divine, participated from the moment
of conception in divine properties: but as during his earthly life
Jesus made no continuous use of them, that life to the time of his
death and burial, is regarded as a state of humiliation: whereas, with
the resurrection, or even with the descent into hell, commenced the
state of exaltation which was consummated by the sessio ad dextram
patris.

As to the work of Christ, the doctrine of our Church attributes to him
a triple office. As prophet, he has revealed to man the highest truth,
the divine decree of redemption, confirming his testimony by miracles;
and he still unceasingly controls the announcement of this truth. As
high priest, he has, on the one hand, by his irreproachable life,
fulfilled the law in our stead (obedientia activa); on the other, he
has borne, in his sufferings and death, the punishment which impended
over us (obedientia passiva), and now perpetually intercedes for us
with the Father. Lastly, as king, he governs the world, and more
particularly the Church, which he will lead from the conflicts of earth
to the glory of heaven, completing its destiny by the general
resurrection and the last judgment.

§ 146.

OBJECTIONS TO THE CHRISTOLOGY OF THE CHURCH.

The Reformed Church did not go thus far with the Lutherans in their
doctrine of the person of Christ, for they did not admit the last and
boldest consequence drawn by the latter from the union of the manhood
and Godhead—the communicatio idiomatum, or communication of properties.
The Lutherans themselves did not hold that the properties of the human
nature were communicated to the divine, nor that all the properties of
the divine nature, eternity for example, could be communicated to the
human; [2207] and this gave occasion on the part of the Reformed
Church, to the following objection: the communication of properties
must be reciprocal and complete, or it is none at all; moreover, by the
communication of the properties of an infinite nature to a finite one,
the latter is not less annihilated as to its essence than an infinite
nature would be, were it to receive the properties of a finite one.
[2208] When the Lutherans sought shelter in the position, that the
properties of the one nature were only so far shared by the other, as
according to its character is possible, uti per suam indolem potest,
[2209] they in fact did away altogether with the communicatio
idiomatum; and indeed this doctrine has been explicitly given up even
by orthodox theologians since Reinhard.

But the simple root of this complicated exchange of properties, the
union of the divine and human natures in one person, has also met with
contradiction.

The Socinians denied it on the ground that two natures, each of which
alone constitutes a person, cannot be united to form a single person,
especially when they possess properties so opposite, as where the one
is immortal, the other mortal, the one uncreated, the other created;
[2210] and the Rationalists agree with them, insisting more
particularly that the formulæ of the Church, in which the above union
is defined, are almost entirely negative, thus presenting no conception
to the mind, and that in a Christ, who by the aid of a divine nature
dwelling within him, withstood evil and kept himself from sin, the man
who is destitute of such aid can have no true example. [2211]

The essential and tenable points of the rationalistic objections to
this doctrine, have been the most acutely perceived and arranged by
Schleiermacher, who, on this subject as on many others, has brought the
negative criticism of the dogmas of the Church to completeness. [2212]
Before all else he finds it a difficulty, that by the expression,
divine nature and human nature, divinity and humanity are placed under
one category, and what is more, under the category of nature, which
essentially denotes only a limited being, conceived by means of its
opposite. Further, while ordinarily one nature is common to many
individuals or persons, here one person is supposed to partake of two
different natures. Now if by person be meant the permanent conscious
unity of a living being, and by nature, the sum of the laws which
govern the conditions of life in that being: it is not to be conceived,
how two opposite systems of conditions can have but one centre. The
absurdity of this doctrine becomes, according to Schleiermacher,
especially evident in the supposition of two wills in Christ, since,
for consistency, two wills must be associated with two understandings,
and as the understanding and will constitute the personality, Christ
would on this supposition be inevitably divided into two persons. It is
true that the two wills are supposed always to will in unison: but, on
the one hand, there results from this only a moral, not a personal
unity; on the other hand, this unison of wills is not possible in
relation to the divine and the human will, since the latter, which from
its very essence can only exercise itself on particulars as they
present themselves in succession, can as little will the same with the
former, whose object is the whole in its development, as the human
understanding, which acts by reasoning, can think the same with the
divine understanding, which acts intuitively. Hence it evidently
follows also that a communication of properties between the two natures
is not to be admitted.

The doctrine of the work of Christ did not escape a similar criticism.
Passing over what has been objected in point of form to the division of
this work into three offices, the ideas of revelation and miracles,
under the head of the prophetic office, were chiefly called in
question. It was argued that these ideas agreed neither objectively
with just conceptions of God and the world in their reciprocal
relation, nor subjectively with the laws of the human intellect; that
the perfect God could not have created a world which from time to time
needed the extraordinary interposition of the Creator, nor more
particularly a human nature which was incapable of attaining its
destination by the development of its innate faculties; that the
immutable Being could not operate on the world first in this manner,
then in that, at one time mediately, at another immediately, but that
he must always have operated on it in the same manner, namely, in
himself and on the whole immediately, but for us and on individuals
mediately; that to admit an interruption of the order of nature, and of
the development of humanity, would be to renounce all rational thought,
while, in the particular case in question, a revelation or miracle is
not confidently to be recognized as such, since, in order to be sure
that certain results have not proceeded from the powers of nature and
the faculties of the human mind, a perfect knowledge of the resources
of both would be requisite, and of such a knowledge man is not
possessed. [2213]

But the main difficulty lay in the office of high priest, attributed to
Jesus—in the doctrine of the atonement. That which especially drew
forth objections was the human aspect which in Anselm’s system was
given to the relation of God to the Son of man. As it well becomes man
to forgive offences without exacting vengeance, so, thought Socinus,
might God forgive the offences committed against him by men, without
satisfaction. [2214] To meet this objection Hugo Grotius argued, that
not as in consequence of personal injuries, but to maintain the order
of the moral world inviolable, or in virtue of his justitia rectoria,
God cannot forgive sins without satisfaction. [2215] Nevertheless,
granting the necessity for satisfaction, it did not appear to be met by
the death of Jesus. While Anselm, and still more decidedly Thomas
Aquinas, [2216] spoke of a satisfactio superabundans, Socinus denied
that Christ had even borne as much punishment as men have deserved; for
every individual man having deserved eternal death, consequently, as
many substitutes as sinners ought to have suffered eternal death;
whereas in this case, the single Christ has suffered merely temporal
death, and that as an introduction to the highest glory; nor did this
death attach to his divine nature, so that it might be said to have
infinite value, but only to his human nature. On the other hand, Duns
Scotus, [2217] in opposition to Thomas, and subsequently Grotius and
the Arminians (equi-distant from orthodoxy and Socinianism), adopted
the expedient of maintaining, that the merit of Christ was indeed in
itself finite like its subject, his human nature, and hence was
inadequate as a satisfaction for the sins of the world; but that God
accepted it as adequate out of his free grace. But from the admission
that God can content himself with an inadequate satisfaction, and thus
can forgive a part of the guilt without satisfaction, it follows
necessarily, that he must also be able thus to forgive the whole.
Besides these more precise definitions, however, the fundamental idea
of the whole fabric, namely, that one individual can take upon himself
the punishment due to the sins of another, has been attacked as an
ignorant transference of the conditions of a lower order of relation to
a higher. Moral transgressions, it has been said, are not transmissible
obligations; it is not with them as with debts of money, which it is
immaterial to the creditor who pays, provided they are paid; rather it
is essential to the punishment of sin, that it should fall on the
guilty only. [2218] If, according to this, the so-called passive
obedience of Christ cannot have been vicarious, still less can his
active obedience have been so, since as man he was bound to render this
on his own behalf. [2219]

In relation to the kingly office of Christ, the hope of his second
advent to judge the world lost ground in the sentiment of the Church,
in proportion as the opinion obtained, that every individual enters on
a state of complete retribution immediately after death, for this
opinion made the general judgment appear superfluous. [2220]

§ 147.

THE CHRISTOLOGY OF RATIONALISM.

The Rationalists, rejecting the doctrine of the Church concerning
Christ, his person, and his work, as self-contradictory, useless, nay,
even hurtful to the true morality of the religious sentiment,
propounded in its stead a system which, while it avoided all
contradictions, yet in a certain sense retained for Jesus the character
of a divine manifestation, which even, rightly considered, placed him
far higher, and moreover embodied the strongest motives to practical
piety. [2221]

According to them, Jesus was still a divine messenger, a special
favourite and charge of the Deity, inasmuch as, furnished by the
disposition of Providence with an extraordinary measure of spiritual
endowment, he was born in an age and nation, and guided in a career,
the most favourable to his development into that for which he was
destined; and, especially, inasmuch as he was subjected to a species of
death that rendered possible his apparent resurrection, on which
depended the success of his entire work, and was encompassed by a
series of circumstances which actually brought that resurrection to
pass. The Rationalists hold that their idea of the Christ is not
essentially below the orthodox one, as regards his natural endowments
and his external destiny, for in their view also he is the greatest man
that ever trod the earth—a hero, in whose fate Providence is in the
highest degree glorified: while, as regards the internal development
and free agency of Jesus, they believe their doctrine essentially to
surpass that of the Church. The Christ of the Church, they contend, is
a mere automaton, whose manhood lies under the control of his Godhead
like a lifeless instrument, which acts with moral perfection because it
has no power to sin, and for this reason can neither have moral merit,
nor be the object of affection and reverence: according to the
rationalistic view, on the contrary, Jesus had implanted in him by God
the natural conditions only of that which he was ultimately to become,
and his realization of this destiny was the result of his own
spontaneity. His admirable wisdom he acquired by the judicious
application of his intellectual powers, and the conscientious use of
all the aids within his reach; his moral greatness, by the zealous
culture of his moral dispositions, the restraint of his sensual
inclinations and passions, and a scrupulous obedience to the voice of
his conscience: and on these alone rested all that was exalted in his
personality, all that was encouraging in his example.

As regards the work of Jesus, the rationalistic view is, that he has
endeared himself to mankind by this above all else, that he has taught
them a religion to which for its purity and excellence is justly
ascribed a certain divine power and dignity; and that he has
illustrated and enforced this religion by the brilliant example of his
own life. This prophetic office of Christ is with Socinians and
Rationalists the essence of his work, and to this they refer all the
rest, especially what the doctrine of the Church comprehends under the
office of high priest. With them the so-called active obedience has
value solely as an example; and the death of Jesus conduces to the
forgiveness of sins, solely by furthering the reformation of the sinner
in one of these two ways: either, as a confirmation of his doctrine,
and a type of the devoted fulfilment of duty, it serves to kindle a
zeal for virtue; or, as a proof of the love of God to man, of his
inclination to pardon the converted sinner, it invigorates moral
courage. [2222]

If Christ was no more, and did no more, than this rationalistic
doctrine supposes, it is not easy to see how piety has come to make him
her special object, or dogmatism to lay down special propositions
concerning him. Consistent Rationalists have in fact admitted, that
what the orthodox dogma calls Christology, forms no integral part of
the rationalistic system, since this system consists indeed of a
religion which Christ taught, but not of a religion of which he is the
object; that, viewing Christology as the doctrine of the Messiah, it is
merely an accommodation to the Jewish mind,—that even taken in a more
noble sense, as the doctrine of the life, the actions, and the fate of
Jesus as a divine messenger, it does not belong to a system of faith,
for the universal truths of religion are as little connected with our
ideas concerning the person of him who first enunciated them, as are
the philosophical propositions in the systems of Leibnitz and Wolf, of
Kant, Fichte, and Schelling, with the opinions we may happen to form of
the persons of their authors; that what relates to the person and work
of Jesus belongs, not to religion itself, but to the history of
religion, and must either be prefixed to a system of religious doctrine
as an historical introduction, or appended to it as an elucidatory
sequel. [2223] Accordingly Henke, in his Lineaments, has removed
Christology from its wonted position as an integral part of systematic
theology, and has placed it as a subdivision under the head of
anthropology.

Thus, however, Rationalism enters into open war with the Christian
faith, for it seeks to thrust into the background, nay, to banish from
the province of theology, that which is its essential point, and
corner-stone. But this very opposition is decisive of the insufficiency
of the rationalistic system, proving that it does not perform what is
demanded from every system of religious doctrine: namely, first, to
give adequate expression to the faith which is the object of the
doctrine; and secondly, to place this expression in a relation, whether
positive or negative, to science. Now the Rationalists, in the effort
to bring the faith into harmony with science, restrict its expression;
for a Christ who is only a distinguished man, creates indeed no
difficulty to the understanding, but is not the Christ in whom the
Church believes.

§ 148.

THE ECLECTIC CHRISTOLOGY OF SCHLEIERMACHER.

It is the effort of this theologian to avoid both these ungrateful
results, and without prejudice to the faith, to form such a conception
of the doctrine of the Christ as may be proof against the attacks of
science. [2224] On the one hand, he has adopted in its fullest extent
the negative criticism directed by Rationalism against the doctrine of
the Church, nay, he has rendered it even more searching; on the other
hand, he has sought to retain what Rationalism had lost, the essential
part of positive Christianity: and thus he has saved many in these days
from the narrowness of Supranaturalism, and the emptiness of
Rationalism. This simplification of the faith Schleiermacher effects in
the following manner: he does not set out, with the Protestant, from
the doctrine of Scripture, nor with the Catholic from the decision of
the church, for in both these ways he would have to deal with a
precise, developed system, which, having originated in remote
centuries, must come into collision with the science of the present
day; but he sets out from the consciousness of the Christian, from that
internal experience resulting to the individual from his connexion with
the Christian community, and he thus obtains a material which, as its
basis is feeling, is more flexible, and to which it is easier to give
dialectically a form that satisfies science.

As a member of the Christian church—this is the point of departure in
the Christology of Schleiermacher [2225]—I am conscious of the removal
of my sinfulness, and the impartation of absolute perfection: in other
words, in communion with the church, I feel operating upon me the
influence of a sinless and perfect principle. This influence cannot
proceed from the Christian community as an effect of the reciprocal
action of its members on each other; for to every one of these sin and
imperfection are inherent, and the co-operation of impure beings can
never produce anything pure as its result. It must be the influence of
one who possessed that sinlessness and perfection as personal
qualities, and who moreover stands in such a relation to the Christian
community, that he can impart these qualities to its members: that is,
since the Christian church could not exist prior to this impartation,
it must be the influence of its founder. As Christians, we find
something operated within us; hence, as from every effect we argue to
its cause, we infer the influence of Christ, and from this again, the
nature of his person, which must have had the powers necessary to the
exertion of this influence.

To speak more closely, that which we experience as members of the
Christian church, is a strengthening of our consciousness of God, in
its relation to our sensuous existence; that is, it is rendered easier
to us to deprive the senses of their ascendancy within us, to make all
our impressions the servants of the religious sentiment, and all our
actions its offspring. According to what has been stated above, this is
the effect wrought in us by Christ, who imparts to us the strength of
his consciousness of God, frees us from the bondage of sensuality and
sin, and is thus the Redeemer. In the feeling of the strengthened
consciousness of God which the Christian possesses by his communion
with the Redeemer, the obstructions of his natural and social life are
not felt as obstructions to his consciousness of God; they do not
interrupt the blessedness which he enjoys in his inmost religious life;
what has been called evil, and divine chastisement, is not such for
him: and as it is Christ who by receiving him into the communion of his
blessedness, frees him therefrom, the office of expiation is united to
that of redemption.

In this sense alone is the doctrine of the church concerning the
threefold office of Christ to be interpreted. He is a prophet, in that
by the word—by the setting forth of himself, and not otherwise,—he
could draw mankind towards himself, and therefore the chief object of
his doctrine was his own person; he is at once a high priest and a
sacrifice, in that he, the sinless one, from whose existence,
therefore, no evil could be evolved, entered into communion with the
life of sinful humanity, and endured the evils which adhere to it, that
he might take us into communion with his sinless and blessed life: in
other words, deliver us from the power and consequences of sin and
evil, and present us pure before God; lastly, he is a king, in that he
brings these blessings to mankind in the form of an organized society,
of which he is the head.

From this which Christ effects, we gather what he is. If we owe to him
the continual strengthening of the consciousness of God within us, this
consciousness must have existed in him in absolute strength, so that
it, or God in the form of the consciousness, was the only operative
force within him, and this is the sense of the expression of the
church—God became man in Christ. If, further, Christ works in us a more
and more complete conquest over sensuality, in himself there must have
been an absolute conquest over it; in no moment of his life can the
sensual consciousness have disputed the victory with his consciousness
of God; never can a vacillation or struggle have had place within him:
in other words, the human nature in him was sinless, and in the
stricter sense, that, in virtue of the essential predominance within
him of the higher powers over the lower, it was impossible for him to
sin. By this peculiarity of his nature he is the Archetype, the
actualization of the ideal of humanity, which his church can only
approach, never surpass; yet must he,—for otherwise there could be no
true fellowship between him and us,—have been developed under the
ordinary conditions of human life: the ideal must in him have been
perfectly historical, each phasis of his actual life must have borne
the impress of the ideal; and this is the proper sense of the church
formula, that the divine and human nature were in him united into one
person.

Only thus far can the doctrine of the Christ be deduced from the
experience of the Christian, and thus far, according to Schleiermacher,
it is not opposed to science: whatever in the dogma of the church goes
beyond this,—as, for example, the supernatural conception of Jesus, and
his miracles, also the facts of the resurrection and ascension, and the
prophecies of his second coming to judge the world,—ought not to be
brought forward as integral parts of the doctrine of the Christ For he
from whose influence upon us comes all the strengthening of our
consciousness of God, may have been the Christ, though he should not
have risen bodily from the dead, and ascended into heaven, etc.: so
that we believe these facts, not because they are involved in our
internal experience, but only because they are stated in Scripture; not
so much, therefore, in a religious and dogmatical, as in an historical
manner.

This Christology is undeniably a beautiful effort of thought, and as we
shall presently see, does the utmost towards rendering the union of the
divine and the human in Christ conceivable; but if its author supposed
that he kept the faith unmutilated and science unoffended, we are
compelled to pronounce that he was in both points deceived. [2226]

Science opens its attack on the proposition, that the ideal man was
historically manifested in the person of Christ. It did not escape
Schleiermacher himself that this was a dangerous point. No sooner has
he put forth the above proposition, than he reflects on the difficulty
of supposing that the ideal should be realized in one historical
individual; since, in other cases, we never find the ideal realized in
a single appearance, but only in an entire cycle of appearances, which
reciprocally complete each other. It is true that this theologian does
not hold the character of Christ, as the ideal man, to extend to the
manifold relations of human life, so as to be the archetype for all the
science, art, and policy, that are developed in human society; he
confines it to the domain of the consciousness of God. But, as Schmid
has justly observed, this does not alter the case, for the
consciousness of God also, being, in its development and manifestation,
subject to the conditions of finiteness and imperfection; the
supposition that even in this department exclusively, the ideal was
manifested in a single historical individual, involves a violation of
the laws of nature by a miracle. This, however, is far from alarming
Schleiermacher; on the contrary, he maintains that this is the place,
and the only place, in which the Christian doctrine must necessarily
admit a miracle, since the originating of the person of Christ can only
be conceived as the result of a special divine act of creation. It is
true, he limits the miraculous to the first introduction of Christ into
the series of existences, and allows the whole of his further
development to have been subject to all the conditions of finite
existence: but this concession cannot repair the breach, which the
supposition only of one miracle makes in the scientific theory of the
world. Still less can any help be derived from vague analogies like the
following: as it is still possible that matter should begin to
agglomerate and thence to revolve in infinite space; so science must
admit, that there may be in the domain of spiritual life an appearance,
which in like manner we can only explain as the commencement, the first
point, in a higher process of development. [2227]

This comparison suggests the observation made by Braniss, namely, that
it would be contrary to the laws of all development to regard the
initial member of a series as the greatest—to suppose that in Christ,
the founder of that community, the object of which is the strengthening
of the consciousness of God, the strength of this consciousness was
absolute, a perfection which is rather the infinitely distant goal of
the progressive development of the community founded by him.
Schleiermacher does indeed attribute to Christianity perfectibility in
a certain sense: not as a capability of surpassing Christ in his
nature, but solely in the conditions of its manifestation. His view is
this: the limitation, the imperfection of the relations of Christ, the
language in which he expressed himself, the nationality within which he
was placed, modified his thoughts and actions, but in their form alone;
their essence remained nevertheless the perfect ideal. Now if
Christianity in its progressive advancement in doctrine and practice,
rejects more and more of those temporal and national limitations by
which the actions and teaching of Jesus were circumscribed; this is not
to surpass Christ, it is rather to give a more perfect expression of
his inner life. But, as Schmid has satisfactorily shown, an historical
individual is that which appears of him, and no more; his internal
nature is known by his words and actions, the condition of his age and
nation are a part of his individuality, and what lies beneath this
phenomenal existence as the essence, is not the nature of this
individual, but the human nature in general, which in particular beings
operates only under the limitations of their individuality, of time,
and of circumstances. Thus to surpass the historical appearance of
Christ, is to rise nearer, not to his nature, but to the idea of
humanity in general; and if we are to suppose that it is still Christ
whose nature is more truly expressed, when with the rejection of the
temporal and national, the essential elements of his doctrine and life
are further developed: it would not be difficult, by a similar
abstraction, to represent Socrates, as the one who in this manner
cannot be surpassed.

As neither an individual in general, nor, in particular, the commencing
point in an historical series, can present the perfect ideal: so, if
Christ be regarded decidedly as man, the archetypal nature and
development which Schleiermacher ascribes to him, cannot be brought to
accord with the laws of human existence. Impeccability, in the sense of
the impossibility of sinning, as it is supposed to exist in Christ, is
a quality totally incompatible with the human nature; for to man, in
consequence of his agency being liable to guidance by the motives of
the senses as well as of the reason, the possibility of sinning is
essential. And if Christ was entirely free from inward conflict, from
all vacillation of the spiritual life between good and evil, he could
not be a man of like nature with us; for the action and re-action
between the spiritual nature in general and the external world, and, in
particular, between the superior religious and moral powers, and the
operations of the mind in subordination to the senses, necessarily
manifests itself as a conflict. [2228]

If, on the one side, the Christology in question is far from satisfying
science, it is equally far, on the other side, from satisfying the
faith. We will not enter into those points in which, instead of the
decisions of the church, it at least offers acceptable substitutes
(concerning which, however, it may be doubted whether they are a full
compensation). [2229] Its disagreement with the faith is the most
conspicuous in the position, that the facts of the resurrection and
ascension do not form essential parts of the Christian faith. For the
belief in the resurrection of Christ is the foundation stone, without
which the Christian church could not have been built; nor could the
cycle of Christian festivals, which are the external representation of
the Christian faith, now suffer a more fatal mutilation than by the
removal of the festival of Easter: the Christ who died could not be
what he is in the belief of the church, if he were not also the Christ
who rose again.

Thus the doctrine of Schleiermacher concerning the person and
conditions of Christ, betrays a twofold inadequacy, not meeting the
requirements either of the faith of the church, or of science. It is
clear, however, from his doctrine of the work of Christ, that in order
to satisfy the former so far as is here done, such a contradiction of
the latter was quite unnecessary, and an easier course might have been
pursued. For resting merely on a backward inference from the inward
experience of the Christian as the effect, to the person of Christ as
the cause, the Christology of Schleiermacher has but a frail support,
since it cannot be proved that that inward experience is not ta be
explained without the actual existence of such a Christ. Schleiermacher
himself did not overlook the probable objection that the church,
induced merely by the relative excellence of Jesus, conceived an ideal
of absolute perfection, and transferred this to the historical Christ,
from which combination she continually strengthens and vivifies her
consciousness of God: but he held this objection to be precluded by the
observation, that sinful humanity, by reason of the mutual dependence
of the will and the understanding, is incapable of conceiving an
immaculate ideal. But, as it has been aptly remarked, if Schleiermacher
claims a miracle for the origination of his real Christ, we have an
equal right to claim one for the origination of the ideal of a Christ
in the human soul. [2230] Meanwhile, it is not true that sinful human
nature is incapable of conceiving a sinless ideal. If by this ideal be
understood merely a general conception, then the conception of the
perfect and the sinless is as necessarily co-existent with the
consciousness of imperfection and sinfulness as the conception of
infinity with that of finiteness; since the two ideas conditionate one
another, and the one is not possible without the other. If, on the
other hand, by this ideal be meant a concrete image, the conception of
a character in which all the individual features are portrayed, it may
be admitted that a sinful individual or age cannot depict such an image
without blemish; but of this inability the age or individual itself is
not conscious, not having any superior standard, and if the image be
but slightly drawn, if it leave room for the modifications of increased
enlightenment, it may continue to be regarded as immaculate even by a
later and more clear-sighted age, so long as this age is inclined to
view it under the most favourable light.

We may now estimate the truth of the reproach, which made
Schleiermacher so indignant, namely, that his was not an historical,
but an ideal Christ. It is unjust in relation to the opinion of
Schleiermacher, for he firmly believed that the Christ, as construed by
him, really lived; but it is just in relation to the historical state
of the facts, because such a Christ never existed but in idea; and in
this sense, indeed, the reproach has even a stronger bearing on the
system of the church, because the Christ therein presented can still
less have existed. Lastly, it is just in relation to the consequence of
Schleiermacher’s system, since to effect what Schleiermacher makes him
effect, no other Christ is necessary, and, according to the principles
of Schleiermacher respecting the relation of God to the world, of the
supernatural to the natural, no other Christ is possible, than an ideal
one:—and in this sense the reproach attaches specifically to
Schleiermacher’s doctrine, for according to the premises of the
orthodox doctrine, an historical Christ is both possible and necessary.

§ 149.

CHRISTOLOGY INTERPRETED SYMBOLICALLY. KANT. DE WETTE.

The attempt to retain in combination the ideal in Christ with the
historical, having failed, these two elements separate themselves: the
latter falls as a natural residuum to the ground, and the former rises
as a pure sublimate into the ethereal world of ideas. Historically,
Jesus can have been nothing more than a person, highly distinguished
indeed, but subject to the limitations inevitable to all that is
mortal: by means of his exalted character, however, he exerted so
powerful an influence over the religious sentiment, that it constituted
him the ideal of piety; in accordance with the general rule, that an
historical fact or person cannot become the basis of a positive
religion until it is elevated into the sphere of the ideal. [2231]

Spinoza made this distinction when maintaining, that to know the
historical Christ is not necessary to felicity, but only to know the
ideal Christ, namely, the eternal wisdom of God, which is manifested in
all things, in the human mind particularly, and in a pre-eminent degree
in Jesus Christ—that wisdom which alone teaches man what is true and
false, good and bad. [2232]

According to Kant, also, it ought not to be made a condition of
salvation to believe, that there was once a man who by his holiness and
merit gave satisfaction for himself and for all others; for of this the
reason tells us nothing; but it is the duty of men universally to
elevate themselves to the ideal of moral perfection deposited in the
reason, and to obtain moral strength by the contemplation of this
ideal. Such moral faith alone man is bound to exercise, and not
historical faith. [2233]

Taking his stand on this principle, Kant proceeds to interpret the
doctrines of the Bible and the church as symbols of the ideal. It is
humanity, or the rational part of this system of things, in its entire
moral perfection, that could alone make a world the object of divine
Providence, and the end of creation. This idea of a humanity
well-pleasing to God, has existed in God from all eternity; it proceeds
from his essence, and is therefore no created thing, but his eternal
Son, the Word, through whom, that is, for whose sake, all things were
created, and in whom God loved the world. As this idea of moral
perfection has not man for its author, as it has been introduced into
him even without his being able to conceive how his nature can have
been susceptible of such an idea, it may be said to have come down to
us from heaven, and to have assumed the human nature, and this union
with us may be regarded as an abasement of the Son of God. This ideal
of moral perfection, so far as it is compatible with the condition of a
being dependent on necessities and inclinations, can only be conceived
by us under the form of a man. Now just as we can obtain no idea of the
amount of a force, but by calculating the degree of resistance which it
can overcome, so we can form no estimate of the strength of the moral
disposition, but by imagining hard conflicts in which it can triumph:
hence the man who embodies the perfect ideal must be one who would
voluntarily undertake, not only to perform every duty of man on his own
behalf, and by precept and example to disseminate the good and the true
around him as extensively as possible; but also, though tempted by the
strongest allurements, to submit to all sufferings, even to the most
ignominious death, for the welfare of mankind.

In a practical relation this idea has its reality completely within
itself, and it needed no exemplification in experience in order to
become a model binding on us, since it is enshrined as such in our
reason. Nay, this ideal remains essentially confined to the reason,
because it cannot be adequately represented by any example in outward
experience, since such an example would not fully disclose the inward
disposition, but would only admit of our forming dubious inferences
thereon. Nevertheless, as all men ought to be conformed to this ideal,
and consequently must be capable of such conformity, it is always
possible in experience that a man may appear, who in his teaching,
course of life, and sufferings, may present an example of a man
well-pleasing to God: but even in this manifestation of the God-man, it
would not properly be that which is obvious to the senses, or can be
known by experience, which would be the object of saving faith; but the
ideal lying in the reason, which we should attribute to this
manifestation of the God-man, because he appeared to us to be conformed
to it—that is, indeed, so far only as this can be concluded from
outward experience. Inasmuch as all of us, though naturally generated
men, feel bound, and consequently able, ourselves to present such an
example, we have no reason to regard that exemplification of the ideal
man as supernaturally generated, nor does he need the attestation of
miracles; for besides the moral faith in the idea, nothing further is
requisite than the historical conviction that his life was conformed to
that idea, in order to accredit him as its personification.

He who is conscious of such a moral disposition, as to have a
well-founded confidence, that under temptations and sufferings similar
to those which are attributed to the ideal man, as a touchstone of his
moral disposition, he would adhere unalterably to this exemplar, and
faithfully follow his steps, such a man alone is entitled to consider
himself an object of the divine complacency. To elevate himself to such
a state of mind, man must depart from evil, cast off the old man,
crucify the flesh; a change which is essentially connected with a
series of sorrows and sufferings. These the former man has deserved as
a punishment, but they fall on the new: for the regenerated man, who
takes them on himself, though physically and in his empirical
character, as a being determined by the senses, he remains the former
man; is morally, as an intellectual being, with his changed
disposition, become a new man. Having by this change taken upon him the
disposition of the Son of God, that which is strictly a substitution of
the new man for the old, may be represented, by a personification of
the idea, as a substitution of the Son of God, and it may be said, that
the latter himself, as a substitute, bears for man, for all who
practically believe in him, the guilt of sin; as a redeemer, satisfies
supreme justice by suffering and death; and as an intercessor, imparts
the hope of appearing justified before the judge: the suffering which
the new man, in dying to the old, must perpetually incur through life,
being conceived in the representative of mankind, as a death suffered
once for all. [2234]

Kant, like Schleiermacher (whose Christology in many respects recalls
that of Kant), [2235] carries his appropriation of the Christology of
the church no further than the death of Christ: of his resurrection and
ascension, he says, that they cannot be available to religion within
the limits of pure reason, because they would involve the materiality
of all existences. Still, in another light, he employs these facts as
symbols of the ideas of the reason; as images of the entrance into the
abode of blessedness, that is, into communion with all the good: while
Tieftrunk has yet more decidedly given it as his opinion, that without
the resurrection, the history of Jesus would terminate in a revolting
catastrophe; that the eye would turn away with melancholy and
dissatisfaction from an event, in which the pattern of humanity fell a
victim to impious rage, and in which the scene closed with a death as
unmerited as sorrowful; that the history requires to be crowned with
the fulfilment of the expectation towards which the moral
contemplations of every one are irresistibly drawn—with the passage
into a compensating immortality. [2236]

In the same manner, De Wette ascribed to the evangelical history, as to
every history, and particularly to the history of religion, a
symbolical, ideal character, in virtue of which it is the expression
and image of the human mind and its various operations. The history of
the miraculous conception of Jesus represents the divine origin of
religion; the narratives of his miracles, the independent force of the
human mind, and the sublime doctrine of spiritual self-reliance; his
resurrection is the image of the victory of truth, a fore-shadowing of
the future triumph of good over evil; his ascension, the symbol of the
eternal majesty of religion. The fundamental religious ideas which
Jesus enunciated in his teaching, are expressed with equal clearness in
his history. This history is an expression of devoted enthusiasm, in
the courageous ministry of Jesus, and in the victorious power of his
appearance; of resignation, in his contest with the wickedness of men,
in the melancholy of his premonitory discourses, and above all in his
death. Christ on the cross is the image of humanity purified by
self-sacrifice; we ought all to crucify ourselves with him, that we may
rise with him to new life. Lastly, the idea of devotion was the
key-note in the history of Jesus, every moment of his life being
dedicated to the thought of his heavenly Father. [2237]

At an earlier period, Horst presented this symbolical view of the
history of Jesus with singular clearness. Whether, he says, all that is
narrated of Christ happened precisely so, historically, is a question
indifferent to us, nor can it now be settled. Nay, if we would be
candid with ourselves, that which was once sacred history for the
Christian believer, is, for the enlightened portion of our
cotemporaries, only fable: the narratives of the supernatural birth of
Christ, of his miracles, of his resurrection and ascension, must be
rejected by us as at variance with the inductions of our intellect. Let
them however only be no longer interpreted merely by the understanding
as history, but by the feelings and imagination, as poetry; and it will
be found that in these narratives nothing is invented arbitrarily, but
all springs from the depths and divine impulses of the human mind.
Considered from this point of view, we may annex to the history of
Christ all that is important to religious trust, animating to the pure
dispositions, attractive to the tender feelings. That history is a
beautiful, sacred poem of the human race—a poem in which are embodied
all the wants of our religious instinct; and this is the highest honour
of Christianity, and the strongest proof of its universal
applicability. The history of the gospel is in fact the history of
human nature conceived ideally, and exhibits to us in the life of an
individual, what man ought to be, and, united with him by following his
doctrine and example, can actually become. It is not denied that what
to us can appear only sacred poetry, was to Paul, John, Matthew and
Luke, fact and certain history. But it was the very same internal cause
which made the narratives of the gospel sacred fact and history to
them, which makes those narratives to us a sacred mythus and poetry.
The points of view only are different: human nature, and in it the
religious impulse, remains ever the same. Those first Christians needed
in their world, for the animating of the religious and moral
dispositions in the men of their time, history and fact, of which,
however, the inmost kernel consisted of ideas: to us, the facts are
become superannuated and doubtful, and only for the sake of the
fundamental ideas, are the narratives of those facts an object of
reverence. [2238]

This view was met immediately on the part of the church by the
reproach, that instead of the riches of divine reality which faith
discovers in the history of Christ, it palmed upon us a collection of
empty ideas and ideals; instead of a consolatory work effected, an
overwhelming obligation. For the certainty, that God once actually
united himself with human nature, the admonition that man ought to
obtain divine dispositions, offers a poor compensation: for the peace
which the redemption completed by Christ brings to the believer, it is
no equivalent to put before him the duty of freeing himself from sin.
By this system, man is thrust out of the reconciled world in which
Christianity places him, into an unreconciled world, out of a world of
happiness into a world of misery; for where reconciliation has yet to
be effected, where happiness has yet to be attained, there is at
present enmity and unhappiness. And, in truth, the hope of entire
deliverance from these conditions, is, according to the principles of
this system, which only admits an infinite approximation towards the
idea, a deceptive one; for that which is only to be reached in an
endless progression, is in fact unattainable.

But not the faith alone, science also in its newest development, has
found this system unsatisfactory. Science has perceived that to convert
ideas simply into an obligatory possibility, to which no reality
corresponds, is in fact to annihilate them; just as it would be to
render the infinite finite, to represent it as that which lies beyond
the finite. Science has conceived that the infinite has its existence
in the alternate production and extinction of the finite; that the idea
is realised only in the entire series of its manifestations; that
nothing can come into existence which does not already essentially
exist; and, therefore, that it is not to be required of man, that he
should reconcile himself with God, and assimilate his sentiments to the
divine, unless this reconciliation and this assimilation are already
virtually effected.

§ 150.

THE SPECULATIVE CHRISTOLOGY.

Kant had already said that the good principle did not descend from
heaven merely at a particular time, but had descended on mankind
invisibly from the commencement of the human race; and Schelling laid
down the proposition: the incarnation of God is an incarnation from
eternity. [2239] But while the former understood under that expression
only the moral instinct, which, with its ideal of good, and its sense
of duty, has been from the beginning implanted in man; the latter
understood under the incarnate Son of God the finite itself, in the
form of the human consciousness, which in its contradistinction to the
infinite, wherewith it is nevertheless one, appears as a suffering God,
subjected to the conditions of time.

In the most recent philosophy this idea has been further developed in
the following manner. [2240] When it is said of God that he is a
Spirit, and of man that he also is a Spirit, it follows that the two
are not essentially distinct. To speak more particularly, it is the
essential property of a spirit, in the distribution of itself into
distinct personalities, to remain identical with itself, to possess
itself in another than itself. Hence the recognition of God as a spirit
implies, that God does not remain as a fixed and immutable Infinite
encompassing the Finite, but enters into it, produces the Finite,
Nature, and the human mind, merely as a limited manifestation of
himself, from which he eternally returns into unity. As man, considered
as a finite spirit, limited to his finite nature, has not truth; so
God, considered exclusively as an infinite spirit, shut up in his
infinitude, has not reality. The infinite spirit is real only when it
discloses itself in finite spirits; as the finite spirit is true only
when it merges itself in the infinite. The true and real existence of
spirit, therefore, is neither in God by himself, nor in man by himself,
but in the God-man; neither in the infinite alone, nor in the finite
alone, but in the interchange of impartation and withdrawal between the
two, which on the part of God is revelation, on the part of man
religion.

If God and man are in themselves one, and if religion is the human side
of this unity: then must this unity be made evident to man in religion,
and become in him consciousness and reality. Certainly, so long as man
knows not that he is a spirit, he cannot know that God is man: while he
is under the guidance of nature only, he will deify nature; when he has
learned to submit himself to law, and thus to regulate his natural
tendencies by external means, he will set God before him as a lawgiver.
But when, in the vicissitudes of the world’s history, the natural state
discloses its corruptions, the legal its misery; the former will
experience the need of a God who elevates it above itself, the latter,
of a God who descends to its level. Man being once mature enough to
receive as his religion the truth that God is man, and man of a divine
race; it necessarily follows, since religion is the form in which the
truth presents itself to the popular mind, that this truth must appear,
in a guise intelligible to all, as a fact obvious to the senses: in
other words, there must appear a human individual who is recognised as
the visible God. This God-man uniting in a single being the divine
essence and the human personality, it may be said of him that he had
the Divine Spirit for a father and a woman for his mother. His
personality reflecting itself not in himself, but in the absolute
substance, having the will to exist only for God, and not at all for
itself, he is sinless and perfect. As a man of Divine essence, he is
the power that subdues nature, a worker of miracles; but as God in a
human manifestation, he is dependent on nature, subject to its
necessities and sufferings—is in a state of abasement. Must he even pay
the last tribute to nature? does not the fact that the human nature is
subject to death preclude the idea that that nature is one with the
divine? No: the God-man dies, and thus proves that the incarnation of
God is real, that the infinite spirit does not scorn to descend into
the lowest depths of the finite, because he knows how to find a way of
return into himself, because in the most entire alienation of himself,
he can retain his identity. Further, the God-man, in so far as he is a
spirit reflected in his infinity, stands contrasted with men, in so far
as they are limited to their finiteness: hence opposition and contest
result, and the death of the God-Man becomes a violent one, inflicted
by the hands of sinners; so that to physical degradation is added the
moral degradation of ignominy and accusation of crime. If God then
finds a passage from heaven to the grave, so must a way be discoverable
for man from the grave to heaven: the death of the prince of life is
the life of mortals. By his entrance into the world as God-man, God
showed himself reconciled to man; by his dying, in which act he cast
off the limitations of mortality, he showed moreover the way in which
he perpetually effects that reconciliation: namely, by remaining,
throughout his manifestation of himself under the limitations of a
natural existence, and his suppression of that existence, identical
with himself. Inasmuch as the death of the God-man is merely the
cessation of his state of alienation from the infinite, it is in fact
an exaltation and return to God, and thus the death is necessarily
followed by the resurrection and ascension.

The God-man, who during his life stood before his cotemporaries as an
individual distinct from themselves, and perceptible by the senses, is
by death taken out of their sight; he enters into their imagination and
memory: the unity of the divine and human in him, becomes a part of the
general consciousness; and the church must repeat spiritually, in the
souls of its members, those events of his life which he experienced
externally. The believer, finding himself environed with the conditions
of nature, must, like Christ, die to nature—but only inwardly, as
Christ did outwardly,—must spiritually crucify himself and be buried
with Christ, that by the virtual suppression of his own sensible
existence, he may become, in so far as he is a spirit, identical with
himself, and participate in the bliss and glory of Christ.

§ 151.

LAST DILEMMA.

Thus by a higher mode of argumentation, from the idea of God and man in
their reciprocal relation, the truth of the conception which the church
forms of Christ appears to be confirmed, and we seem to be reconducted
to the orthodox point of view, though by an inverted path: for while
there, the truth of the conceptions of the church concerning Christ is
deduced from the correctness of the evangelical history; here, the
veracity of the history is deduced from the truth of those conceptions.
That which is rational is also real; the idea is not merely the moral
imperative of Kant, but also an actuality. Proved to be an idea of the
reason, the unity of the divine and human nature must also have an
historical existence. The unity of God with man, says Marheineke,
[2241] was really and visibly manifested in the person of Jesus Christ;
in him, according to Rosenkranz, [2242] the divine power over nature
was concentrated, he could not act otherwise than miraculously, and the
working of miracles, which surprises us, was to him natural. His
resurrection, says Conradi, [2243] is the necessary sequel of the
completion of his personality, and so little ought it to surprise us,
that, on the contrary, we must rather have been surprised if it had not
happened.

But do these deductions remove the contradictions which have exhibited
themselves in the doctrine of the church, concerning the person and
work of Christ? We need only to compare the structures, which
Rosenkranz in his Review has passed on Schleiermacher’s criticism of
the Christology of the church, with what the same author proposes as a
substitute in his Encyclopædia, in order to perceive, that the general
propositions on the unity of the divine and human natures, do not in
the least serve to explain the appearance of a person, in whom this
unity existed individually, in an exclusive manner. Though I may
conceive that the divine spirit in a state of renunciation and
abasement becomes the human, and that the human nature in its return
into and above itself becomes the divine; this does not help me to
conceive more easily, how the divine and human natures can have
constituted the distinct and yet united portions of an historical
person. Though I may see the human mind in its unity with the divine,
in the course of the world’s history, more and more completely
establish itself as the power which subdues nature; this is quite
another thing, than to conceive a single man endowed with such power,
for individual, voluntary acts. Lastly, from the truth, that the
suppression of the natural existence is the resurrection of the spirit,
can never be deduced the bodily resurrection of an individual.

We should thus have fallen back again to Kant’s point of view, which we
have ourselves found unsatisfactory: for if the idea have no
corresponding reality, it is an empty obligation and ideal. But do we
then deprive the idea of all reality? By no means: we reject only that
which does not follow from the premises. [2244] If reality is ascribed
to the idea of the unity of the divine and human natures, is this
equivalent to the admission that this unity must actually have been
once manifested, as it never had been, and never more will be, in one
individual? This is indeed not the mode in which Idea realizes itself;
it is not wont to lavish all its fulness on one exemplar, and be
niggardly towards all others [2245]—to express itself perfectly in that
one individual, and imperfectly in all the rest: it rather loves to
distribute its riches among a multiplicity of exemplars which
reciprocally complete each other—in the alternate appearance and
suppression of a series of individuals. And is this no true realization
of the idea? is not the idea of the unity of the divine and human
natures a real one in a far higher sense, when I regard the whole race
of mankind as its realization, than when I single out one man as such a
realization? is not an incarnation of God from eternity, a truer one
than an incarnation limited to a particular point of time.

This is the key to the whole of Christology, that, as subject of the
predicate which the church assigns to Christ, we place, instead of an
individual, an idea; but an idea which has an existence in reality, not
in the mind only, like that of Kant. In an individual, a God-man, the
properties and functions which the church ascribes to Christ contradict
themselves; in the idea of the race, they perfectly agree. Humanity is
the union of the two natures—God become man, the infinite manifesting
itself in the finite, and the finite spirit remembering its infinitude;
it is the child of the visible Mother and the invisible Father, Nature
and Spirit; it is the worker of miracles, in so far as in the course of
human history the spirit more and more completely subjugates nature,
both within and around man, until it lies before him as the inert
matter on which he exercises his active power; [2246] it is the sinless
existence, for the course of its development is a blameless one,
pollution cleaves to the individual only, and does not touch the race
or its history. It is Humanity that dies, rises, and ascends to heaven,
for from the negation of its phenomenal life there ever proceeds a
higher spiritual life; from the suppression of its mortality as a
personal, national, and terrestrial spirit, arises its union with the
infinite spirit of the heavens. By faith in this Christ, especially in
his death and resurrection, man is justified before God; that is, by
the kindling within him of the idea of Humanity, the individual man
participates in the divinely human life of the species. Now the main
element of that idea is, that the negation of the merely natural and
sensual life, which is itself the negation of the spirit (the negation
of negation, therefore), is the sole way to true spiritual life. [2247]

This alone is the absolute sense of Christology: that it is annexed to
the person and history of one individual, is a necessary result of the
historical form which Christology has taken. Schleiermacher was quite
right when he foreboded, that the speculative view would not leave much
more of the historical person of the Saviour than was retained by the
Ebionites. The phenomenal history of the individual, says Hegel, is
only a starting point for the mind. Faith, in her early stages, is
governed by the senses, and therefore contemplates a temporal history;
what she holds to be true is the external, ordinary event, the evidence
for which is of the historical, forensic kind—a fact to be proved by
the testimony of the senses, and the moral confidence inspired by the
witnesses. But mind having once taken occasion by this external fact,
to bring under its consciousness the idea of humanity as one with God,
sees in the history only the presentation of that idea; the object of
faith is completely changed; instead of a sensible, empirical fact, it
has become a spiritual and divine idea, which has its confirmation no
longer in history but in philosophy. When the mind has thus gone beyond
the sensible history, and entered into the domain of the absolute, the
former ceases to be essential; it takes a subordinate place, above
which the spiritual truths suggested by the history stand
self-supported; it becomes as the faint image of a dream which belongs
only to the past, and does not, like the idea, share the permanence of
the spirit which is absolutely present to itself. [2248] Even Luther
subordinated the physical miracles to the spiritual, as the truly great
miracles. And shall we interest ourselves more in the cure of some sick
people in Galilee, than in the miracles of intellectual and moral life
belonging to the history of the world—in the increasing, the almost
incredible dominion of man over nature—in the irresistible force of
ideas, to which no unintelligent matter, whatever its magnitude, can
oppose any enduring resistance? Shall isolated incidents, in themselves
trivial, be more to us than the universal order of events, simply
because in the latter we presuppose, if we do not perceive, a natural
cause, in the former the contrary? This would be a direct contravention
of the more enlightened sentiments of our own day, justly and
conclusively expressed by Schleiermacher. The interests of pity, says
this theologian, can no longer require us so to conceive a fact, that
by its dependence on God it is divested of the conditions which would
belong to it as a link in the chain of nature; for we have outgrown the
notion, that the divine omnipotence is more completely manifested in
the interruption of the order of nature, than in its preservation.
[2249] Thus if we know the incarnation, death and resurrection, the
duplex negatio affirmat, as the eternal circulation, the infinitely
repeated pulsation of the divine life; what special importance can
attach to a single fact, which is but a mere sensible image of this
unending process? Our age demands to be led in Christology to the idea
in the fact, to the race in the individual: a theology which, in its
doctrines on the Christ, stops short at him as an individual, is not
properly a theology, but a homily.

In what relation, then, must the pulpit stand to theology,—nay, how is
the continuance of a ministry in the church possible when theology has
reached this stage? This is the difficult question which presents
itself to us in conclusion.

§ 152.

RELATION OF THE CRITICAL AND SPECULATIVE THEOLOGY TO THE CHURCH.

Schleiermacher has said, that when he reflected on the approaching
crisis in theology, and imagined himself obliged to choose one of two
alternatives, either to surrender the Christian history, like every
common history, as a spoil to criticism, or to hold his faith in fee to
the speculative system; his decision was, that for himself, considered
singly, he would embrace the latter, but that, regarding himself as a
member of the church, and especially as one of its teachers, he should
be induced rather to take the opposite course. For the idea of God and
of man on which, according to the speculative system, the truth of the
Christian faith rests, is indeed a precious jewel, but it can be
possessed only by a few, and he would not wish to be that privileged
individual in the church, who alone among thousands held the faith on
its true grounds. As a member of the church, he could have no
satisfaction but in perfect equality, in the consciousness that all
receive alike, both in kind and manner, from the same source. And as a
teacher and spokesman to the church, he could not possibly attempt the
task of elevating old and young, without distinction, to the idea of
God and of man: he must rather attack their faith as a groundless one,
or else endeavour to strengthen and confirm it while knowing it to be
groundless. As thus in the matter of religion an impassable gulf would
be fixed between two parties in the church, the speculative theology
threatens us with the distinction of an esoteric and exoteric doctrine,
which ill accords with the declaration of Christ, that all shall be
taught of God. The scientific alone have the foundation of the faith:
the unscientific have only the faith, and receive it only by means of
tradition. If the Ebionitish view, on the contrary, leave but little of
Christ, yet this little is equally attainable by all, and we are
thereby secured from the hierarchy of speculation, which ever tends to
merge itself in the hierarchy of Rome. [2250]

Here we see presented, under the form of thought belonging to a
cultivated mind, the same opinion which is now expressed by many in a
less cultivated fashion: namely, that the theologian who is at once
critical and speculative, must in relation to the church be a
hypocrite. The real state of the case is this. The church refers her
Christology to an individual who existed historically at a certain
period: the speculative theologian to an idea which only attains
existence in the totality of individuals; by the church the evangelical
narratives are received as history: by the critical theologian, they
are regarded for the most part as mere mythi. If he would continue to
impart instruction to the church, four ways are open to him:

First, the attempt already excluded by the above observations of
Schleiermacher, namely, to elevate the church to his own point of view,
and for it, also, to resolve the historical into the ideal:—an attempt
which must necessarily fail, because to the Church all those premises
are wanting on which the theologian rests his speculative conclusions;
and upon which, therefore, only an enthusiast for interpretation would
venture.

The second and opposite measure would be, to transport himself to the
point of view of the church, and for the sake of imparting edification
ecclesiastically, to descend from the sphere of the ideal into the
region of the popular conception. This expedient is commonly understood
and judged too narrowly. The difference between the theologian and the
church is regarded as a total one; it is thought, that in answer to the
question, whether he believes in the history of Christ, he ought to say
exactly, no; whereas he says, yes: and this is a falsehood. It is true,
that if in the discourses and instructions of the spiritual teacher,
the main interest were an historical one, this would be a correct
representation of the case: but, in fact, the interest is a religious
one,—it is essential religion which is here communicated under the form
of a history; hence he who does not believe in the history as such, may
yet appreciate the religious truths therein contained, equally with one
who does also receive the history as such: the distinction is one of
form merely, and does not affect the substance. Hence it is an evidence
of an uncultivated mind, to denounce as a hypocrite a theologian who
preaches, for example, on the resurrection of Christ, since, though he
may not believe in the reality of that event as a single sensible fact,
he may, nevertheless, hold to be true the representation of the process
of spiritual life, which the resurrection of Christ affords. Strictly
considered, however, this identity of the substantial truth, exists
only in the apprehension of him who knows how to distinguish the
substance from the form of religion, i.e., of the theologian, not of
the church, to whom he speaks. The latter can conceive no faith in the
dogmatical truth of the resurrection of Christ, for example, apart from
a conviction of its historical reality: and if it come to discover that
the theologian has not this conviction, and yet preaches on the
resurrection, he must appear in the eyes of the church a hypocrite, and
thus the entire relation between the theologian and the church would be
virtually cancelled.

In this case, the theologian, though in himself no hypocrite, would
appear such to the church, and would be conscious of this
misconstruction. If notwithstanding this, he should continue to
instruct the church under the form of its own conceptions, he would
ultimately appear a hypocrite to himself also, and would be driven to
the third, desperate course, of forsaking the ministerial office. It
avails nothing to say, he has only to descend from the pulpit, and
mount the professor’s chair, where he will not be under the necessity
of withholding his scientific opinions from such as are destined to
science; for if he, whom the course of his own intellectual culture has
obliged to renounce the ministerial office, should by his instructions
lead many to the same point, and thus render them also incapable of
that office, the original evil would only be multiplied. On the other
hand, it could not be held good for the church, that all those who
pursue criticism and speculation to the results above presented, should
depart from their position as teachers. For no clergyman would any
longer meddle with such inquiries, if he thus ran the risk of being led
to results which would oblige him to abandon the ministerial office;
criticism and philosophy would fall into the hands of those who are not
professed theologians, and to the theologian nothing would remain but
the faith, which then could not possibly long resist the attacks of the
critical and speculative laity. But where truth is concerned, the
possible consequences have no weight; hence the above remark ought not
to be made. Thus much, however, may be maintained in relation to the
real question: he whom his theological studies have led to an
intellectual position, respecting which he must believe, that he has
attained the truth, that he has penetrated into the deepest mysteries
of theology, cannot feel either inclined or bound just at this point in
his career to abandon theology: on the contrary, such a step would be
unnatural, nay, impossible.

He will therefore seek another expedient; and as such there presents
itself a fourth, which is not, like the two first, one-sided, nor like
the third, merely negative, but which offers a positive mode of
reconciling the two extremes—the consciousness of the theologian, and
that of the church. In his discourses to the church, he will indeed
adhere to the forms of the popular conception, but on every opportunity
he will exhibit their spiritual significance, which to him constitutes
their sole truth, and thus prepare—though such a result is only to be
thought of as an unending progress—the resolution of those forms into
their original ideas in the consciousness of the church also. Thus, to
abide by the example already chosen, at the festival of Easter, he will
indeed set out from the sensible fact of the resurrection of Christ,
but he will dwell chiefly on the being buried and rising again with
Christ, which the Apostle himself has strenuously inculcated. This very
course every preacher, even the most orthodox, strictly takes, as often
as he draws a moral from the evangelical text on which he preaches: for
this is nothing else than the transition from the externally historical
to the inward and spiritual. It is true, we must not overlook the
distinction, that the orthodox preacher builds his moral on the text in
such a way, that the latter remains as an historical foundation;
whereas, with the speculative preacher, the transition from the
biblical history or the church doctrine, to the truth which he thence
derives, has the negative effect of annihilating the former. Viewed
more closely, however, the transition of the orthodox preacher from the
evangelical text to the moral application, is not free from this
negative tendency; in proceeding from the history to the doctrine he
implies at least thus much: the history is not enough, it is not the
whole truth, it must be transmuted from a past fact into a present one,
from an event external to you, it must become your own intimate
experience: so that with this transition, the case is the same as with
the proof of the existence of God, in which the cosmical existence,
which is the point of departure, apparently remains as a foundation,
but is in fact negatived as a true existence, and merged in the
absolute. Nevertheless, there remains a marked distinction between
these two propositions: since, and in so far as, this has happened, so
and so is your duty and your consolation—and: this is indeed related as
having happened once, but the truth is, that it always so happens, and
both in and by you ought to happen. At least, the community will not
receive both as identical; and thus, here again, in every excess or
diminution which the more or less spontaneous relation of the teacher
to critical theology, together with the variety in the degrees of
culture of the community, introduces,—the danger is incurred that the
community may discover this difference, and the preacher appear to it,
and consequently to himself, a hypocrite.

In this difficulty, the theologian may find himself driven either
directly to state his opinions, and attempt to elevate the people to
his ideas: or, since this attempt must necessarily fail, carefully to
adapt himself to the conception of the community; or, lastly, since,
even on this plan, he may easily betray himself, in the end to leave
the ministerial profession.

We have thus admitted the difficulty with which the critical and
speculative views are burthened, with reference to the relation of the
clergyman to the church; we have exhibited the collision into which the
theologian falls, when it is asked, what course remains for him in so
far as he has adopted such views? and we have shown that our age has
not arrived at a certain decision on this subject. But this collision
is not the effect of the curiosity of an individual; it is necessarily
introduced by the progress of time and the development of Christian
theology; it surprises and masters the individual, without his being
able to guard himself from it. Or rather he can do this with slight
labour, if he abstain from study and thought, or, if not from these,
from freedom of speech and writing. Of such there are already enough in
our day, and there was no need to make continual additions to their
number through the calumniation of those who have expressed themselves
in the spirit of advanced science. But there are also a few, who,
notwithstanding such attacks, freely declare what can no longer be
concealed—and time will show whether by the one party or the other, the
Church, Mankind, and Truth are best served.

THE END.

NOTES

[1] [This passage varies slightly from the original, a subsequent
amplification by Dr. Strauss being incorporated with it.—Tr.]

[2] Plato, de Republ. ii. p. 377. Steph.; Pindar, Nem. vii. 31.

[3] Diog. Laërt. L. ii. c. iii. No. 7.

[4] Cic. de Nat. Deor. i. 10. 15. Comp. Athenag. Legat. 22. Tatian, c.
Græc. Orat. 21. Clement. homil. 6, 1 f.

[5] Diodor. Sic. Bibl. Fragm. L. vi. Cic. de Nat. Deor. i. 42.

[6] Hist. vi. 56.

[7] Döpke, die Hermeneutik der neutestamentlichen Schriftsteller, s.
123. ff.

[8] Gfrörer. Dähne.

[9] Homil. 5. in Levit. § 5.

[10] Homil. 2. in Exod. iii.: Nolite putare, ut sæpe jam diximus,
veterum vobis fabulas recitari, sed doceri vos per hæc, ut agnoscatis
ordinem vitæ.

[11] Homil. 5. in Levit. i.: Hæc omnia, nisi alio sensu accipiamus quam
literæ textus ostendit, obstaculum magis et subversionem Christianæ
religioni, quam hortationem ædificationemque præstabunt.

[12] Contra Cels. vi. 70.

[13] De principp. L. iv. § 20: πᾶσα μὲν (γραφὴ) ἔχει τὸ πνευματικὸν, οὐ
πᾶσα δὲ τὸ σωματικόν.

[14] Comm. in Joann., Tom. x. § 4:—σωζομένου πολλάκις τοῦ ἀλπθοῦς
πνευματικοῦ ἐν τῷ σωματικῷ, ὡς ἂν εἴποι τις, ψεύδει.

[15] De principp. iv. 15: συνύφηνεν ἡ γραφὴ τῇ ἱστορίᾳ τὸ μὴ γενόμενον,
πὴ μὲν μὴ δυνατὸν γενέσθαι, πὴ δὲ δυνατὸν μὲν γενέσθαι, οὐ μὴν
γεγενημένον. De principp. iv. 16: καὶ τί δεῖ πλείω λέγειν· τῶν μὴ πάνυ
ἀμβλέων μυρία ὅσα τοιαῦτα δυναμένων συναγαγεῖν, γεγραμμένα μὲν ὡς
γεγονότα, οὐ γεγενημένα δὲ κατὰ τὴν λέξιν.

[16] De principp. iv. 16.

[17] Homil. 6, in Gen. iii.: Quæ nobis ædificatio erit, legentibus,
Abraham, tantam patriarcham, non solum mentitum esse Abimelech regi,
sed et pudicitiam conjugis prodidisse? Quid nos ædificat tanti
patriarchæ uxor, si putetur contaminationibus exposita per conniventiam
maritalem? Hæc Judæi putent et si qui cum eis sunt literæ amici, non
spiritus.

[18] De principp. iv. 16: οὐ μόνον δὲ περὶ τῶν πρὸ τῆς παρουσίας ταῦτα
τὸ πνεῦμα ᾠκονόμησεν, ἀλλ’, ἅτε τὸ αὐτὸ τυνχάνον καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἑνὸς θεοῦ,
τὸ ὅμοιον καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν εὐαγγελίων πεποίηκε καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν ἀποστόλων, οὐδὲ
τούτων πάντῃ ἄκρατον τὴν ἱστορίαν τῶν προσυφασμένων κατὰ τὸ σωματικὸν
ἐχόντων μὴ γεγενημένων.

[19] Contra Celsum, i. 40.

[20] Comm. in Matth., Tom. xvi. 26.

[21] Comm. in Joann., Tom. x. 17.

[22] De principp. iv. 19. After Origen, that kind of allegory only
which left the historical sense unimpaired was retained in the church;
and where, subsequently, a giving up of the verbal meaning is spoken
of, this refers merely to a trope or a simile.

[23] In his Amyntor, 1698. See Leland’s View of the Deistical Writers.

[24] See Leland.

[25] In his work entitled The Moral Philosopher.

[26] Posthumous Works, 1748.

[27] Chubb, Posthumous Works, i. 102.

[28] Ibid., ii. 269.

[29] The Resurrection of Jesus Considered, by a Moral Philosopher,
1744.

[30] Six Discourses on the Miracles of our Saviour. Published singly,
from 1727–1729.

[31] Schröckh, Kirschengesch, seit der Reform. 6 Th. s. 191.

[32] Fragmente des Wolfenbüttelschen Ungenannten von G. E. Lessing
herausgegeben.

[33] Recension der übrigen, noch ungedruckten Werke des Wolfenbütteler
Fragmentisten, in Eichhorns allgemeiner Bibliothek, erster Band 1tes u.
2tes Stück.

[34] Paulus’s Commentar über das neue Testament.

[35] Eichhorn’s Urgeschichte, herausgegeben von Gabler, 3 Thl. s. 98.
ff.

[36] Allgem. Biblioth. 1 Bd. s. 989, and Einleitung in das A. T. 3 Thl.
s. 82.

[37] Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Vernunft, drittes
Stück. No. VI.: Der Kirchenglaube hat zu seinem höchsten Ausleger den
reinen Religionsglauben.

[38] Ad. Apollod. Athen. Biblioth. notæ, p. 3 f.

[39] Hebraische Mythologie des alten und neuen Testaments. G. L. Bauer,
1802.

[40] Institutiones Theol. Chr. Dogm. § 42.

[41] Ammon, Progr. quo inquiritur in narrationum de vitæ Jesu Christi
primordiis fontes, etc., in Pott’s and Ruperti’s Sylloge Comm. theol.
No. 5, und Gabler’s n. theol. Journal, 5 Bd. s. 83 und 397.

[42] Ueber Mythen, historische Sagen und Philosopheme der ältesten
Welt. In Paulus Memorabilien, 5 stuck. 1793.

[43] Vid. die Abhandlung über Moses und die Verfasser des Pentateuchs,
im 3ten. Band des Comm. über den Pent. s. 660.

[44] Kritik der Mosaischen Geschichte. Einl. s. 10. ff.

[45] Einleit. in das N. T. 1, s. 408. ff.

[46] Antiquit. xix. viii. 2.

[47] Die verschiedenen Rücksichten, in welchen und für welche der
Biograph Jesu arbeiten kann. In Bertholdt’s krit. Journal, 5 Bd. s.
235. ff.

[48] Recens-von Paulus Commentar, im neuesten theol. Journal 7, 4, s.
395 ff. (1801).

[49] Hebräische Mythologie. 1 Thl. Einl. § 5.

[50] Ist es erlaubt, in der Bibel, und sogar im N.T., Mythen
anzunehmen? Im Journal für auserlesene theol. Literatur, 2, 1, s. 49
ff.

[51] Ueber den Täufer Johannes, die Taufe und Versuchung Christi, in
Ullmann’s u. Umbreit’s theol. Studien u. Kritiken, 2, 3, s. 456 ff.

[52] Beitrag zur Erklärung der Versuchungsgeschichte, in ders.
Zeitschrift, 1832, 4. Heft.

[53] Einleitung in das N. T. 1, s. 422 ff. 453 ff.

[54] Besonders durch Gieseler, über die Entstehung und die frühsten
Schicksale der schriftlichen Evangelien.

[55] Vid. den Anhang der Schulz’schen Schrift über das Abendmahl, und
die Schriften von Sieffert und Schneckenburger über den Ursprung des
ersten kanonischen Evangeliums.

[56] In den Probabilien.

[57] Geschichte der hebräischen Nation, Theil. i. s. 123.

[58] In Henke’s Magazin, 5ten Bdes. 1tes Stück. s. 163.

[59] Versuch über die genetische oder formelle Erklärungsart der
Wunder. In Henke’s Museum, i. 3. 1803.

[60] Kaiser’s biblische Theologie, 1 Thl.

[61] Gabler’s Journal für auserlesene theol. Literatur. ii. 1. s. 46.

[62] Gabler’s neuestes theolog. Journal, 7 Bd.

[63] Bertholdt’s Krit. Journal, v. s. 235.

[64] Ullmann, Recens. meines L. J., in den Theol. Studien u. Kritiken
1836. 3.

[65] George, Mythus und Sage; Versuch einer wissenschaftlichen
Entwicklung dieser Begriffe und ihres Verhältnisses zum christlichen
Glauben, s. 11. ff. 108. ff.

[66] Work cited, § 8, note 4. Hase, Leben Jesu, § 32. Tholuck, s. 208.
ff. Kern, die Hauptsachen der evangelischen Geschichte, 1st Article,
Tübinger Zeitschrift für Theologie, 1836, ii. s. 39.

[67] Comp. Kuinöl, Prolegom. in Matthæum, § 3; in Lucam, § 6.

[68] e.g. Ammon, in der Diss.: Ascensus J. C. in cœlum historia
biblica, in seinen Opusc. nov.

[69] In Bertholdt’s Krit. Journ. v. Bd. s. 248.

[70] Gabler’s neuestes theol. Journal, Bd. vii. s. 395.

[71] Encyclopädie der theol. Wissenschaften, s. 161.

[72] In Gabler’s neuestem theolog. Journal, Bd. vi. 4tes Stück. s. 350.

[73] Gränzbestimmung dessen, was in der Bibel Mythus, u. s. f., und was
wirkliche Geschichte ist. In seiner Bibliothek der heiligen Geschichte,
ii. Bd. s. 155. ff.

[74] Meyer, Apologie der geschichtlichen Auffassung der historischen
Bucher des A. T., besonders des Pentateuchs, im Gegensatz gegen die
blos mythische Deutung des letztern. Fritzsche. Kelle.

[75] Exegetisches Handbuch, i. a. s. 1, 71.

[76] Greiling in Henke’s Museum, i. 4. s. 621. ff.

[77] See the quotations given by De Wette in his “Einleitung in d. N.
T.” § 76.

[78] Euseb. H. E., iii. 39.

[79] Ullman, Credner, Lücke, De Wette.

[80] Hieron. de vir. illustr. 3.

[81] Contra Celsum, ii. 16. v. 56.

[82] Euseb. H. E. iii. 39.

[83] This is clearly demonstrated by Griesbach in his “Commentatio, quâ
Marci Evangelium totum e Matthæi et Lucæ commentariis decerptum esse
demonstratur.”

[84] Chap. xvi. 10–17; xx. 5–15; xxi. 1–17; xxvii. 1–28; xxviii. 10–16.

[85] Euseb. H. E. v. 20, 24.

[86] De Wette, Gieseler.

[87] Ad. Autol. ii., 22.

[88] See Schleiermacher.

[89] This same want of distinction has led the Alexandrians to
allegorize, the Deists to scoff, and the Supernaturalists to strain the
meaning of words; as was done lately by Hoffmann in describing David’s
behaviour to the conquered Ammonites. (Christoterpe auf 1838, s. 184.)

[90] Heydenreich, über die Unzulässigkeit, u. s. f. 1 stück. Compare
Storr, doctr. christ. § 35. ff.

[91] If the Supranatural view contains a theological contradiction, so
the new evangelical theology, which esteems itself raised so far above
the old supranatural view, contains a logical contradiction. To say
that God acts only mediately upon the world as the general rule, but
sometimes, by way of exception, immediately,—has some meaning, though
perhaps not a wise one. But to say that God acts always immediately on
the world, but in some cases more particularly immediately,—is a flat
contradiction in itself. On the principle of the immanence or immediate
agency of God in the world, to which the new evangelical theology lays
claim, the idea of the miraculous is impossible. Comp. my
Streitschriften, i. 3, s. 46 f.

[92] In this view essentially coincide Wegscheider, instit. theol.
dogm. § 12; De Wette, bibl. Dogm., Vorbereitung; Schleiermacher,
Glaubensl. § 46 f.; Marheineke, Dogm. § 269 ff. Comp. George, s. 78 f.

[93] To a freedom from this presupposition we lay claim in the
following work; in the same sense as a state might be called free from
presupposition where the privileges of station, etc., were of no
account. Such a state indeed has one presupposition, that of the
natural equality of its citizens; and similarly do we take for granted
the equal amenability to law of all events; but this is merely an
affirmative form of expression for our former negation. But to claim
for the biblical history especial laws of its own, is an affirmative
proposition, which, according to the established rule, is that which
requires proof, and not our denial of it, which is merely negative. And
if the proof cannot be given, or be found insufficient, it is the
former and not the latter, which is to be considered a presupposition.
See my Streitschriften i. 3. s. 36 ff.

[94] Prolegomena zu einer wissenschaftlichen Mythologie, s. 110 ff.
With this Ullmann, and J. Müller in their reviews of this work,
Hoffmann, s. 113 f., and others are agreed as far as relates to the
heathen mythi. Especially compare George, Mythus und Sage, s. 15 ff.
103.

[95] The words of Baur in his review of Müller’s Prolegomena, in Jahn’s
Jahrbüchern f. Philol. u. Pädag. 1828. 1 Heft, s. 7.

[96] I. 19.

[97] Midrasch Koheleth f. 73, 3 (in Schöttgen, horæ hebraicæ et
talmudicæ, 2, S. 251 f.). R. Berechias nomine R. Isaaci dixit:
Quemadmodum Goël primus (Moses), sic etiam postremus (Messias)
comparatus est. De Goële primo quidnam scriptura dicit? Exod. iv. 20:
et sumsit Moses uxorem et filios, eosque asino imposuit. Sic Goël
postremus, Zachar. ix. 9: pauper et insidens asino. Quidnam de Goële
primo nosti? Is descendere fecit Man, q. d. Exod. xvi. 14: ecce ego
pluere faciam vobis panem de cælo. Sic etiam Goël postremus Manna
descendere faciet, q. d. Ps. lxxii. 16: erit multitudo frumenti in
terra. Quomodo Goël primus comparatus fuit? Is ascendere fecit puteum:
sic quoque Goël postremus ascendere faciet aquas, q. d. Joel iv. 18: et
fons e domo Domini egredietur, et torrentem Sittim irrigabit.

[98] Tanchuma f. 54, 4. (in Schöttgen, p. 74): R. Acha nomine R.
Samuelis bar Nachmani dixit: Quæcumque Deus S. B. facturus est ‏לעתיך
לבא‎ (tempore Messiano) ea jam ante fecit per manus justorum ‏בעולם
הזה‎ (seculo ante Messiam elapso). Deus S. B. suscitabit mortuos, id
quod jam ante fecit per Eliam, Elisam et Ezechielem. Mare exsiccabit,
prout per Mosen factum est. Oculos cæcorum aperiet, id quod per Elisam
fecit. Deus S. B. futuro tempore visitabit steriles, quemadmodum in
Abrahamo et Sarâ fecit.

[99] The Old Testament legends have undergone many changes and
amplifications, even without any reference to the Messiah, so that the
partial discrepancy between the narratives concerning Jesus with those
relating to Moses and the prophets, is not a decisive proof that the
former were not derived from the latter. Compare Acts vii. 22, 53, and
the corresponding part of Josephus Antiq. ii. & iii. with the account
of Moses given in Exodus. Also the biblical account of Abraham with
Antiq. i. 8, 2; of Jacob with i. 19, 6; of Joseph with ii. 5, 4.

[100] George, s. 125: If we consider the firm conviction of the
disciples, that all which had been prophesied in the Old Testament of
the Messiah must necessarily have been fulfilled in the person of their
master; and moreover that there were many blank spaces in the history
of Christ; we shall see that it was impossible to have happened
otherwise than that these ideas should have embodied themselves, and
thus the mythi have arisen which we find. Even if a more correct
representation of the life of Jesus had been possible by means of
tradition, this conviction of the disciples must have been strong
enough to triumph over it.

[101] Compare O. Müller, Prolegomena, s. 7, on a similar conclusion of
Grecian poets.

[102] The comparison of the first chapter of this book with the history
of Joseph in Genesis, gives an instructive view of the tendency of the
later Hebrew legend and poetry to form new relations upon the pattern
of the old. As Joseph was carried captive to Egypt, so was Daniel to
Babylon (i. 2); like Joseph he must change his name (7). God makes the
‏שַׂר הַסָּרִיסִים‎ favourable to him, as the ‏סָרִים שַׂר הַטַבָּחִים‎ to Joseph (9);
he abstains from polluting himself with partaking of the king’s meats
and drinks, which are pressed upon him (8); a self-denial held as
meritorious in the time of Antiochus Epiphanes, as that of Joseph with
regard to Potiphar’s wife; like Joseph he gains eminence by the
interpretation of a dream of the king, which his ‏חַרְטֻמִּים‎ were unable
to explain to him (ii.); whilst the additional circumstance that Daniel
is enabled to give not only the interpretation, but the dream itself,
which had escaped the memory of the king, appears to be a romantic
exaggeration of that which was attributed to Joseph. In the account of
Josephus, the history of Daniel has reacted in a singular manner upon
that of Joseph; for as Nebuchadnezzar forgets his dream, and the
interpretation according to Josephus revealed to him at the same time,
so does he make Pharaoh forget the interpretation shown to him with the
dream. Antiq. ii. 5, 4.

[103] Thus J. Müller, theol. Studien u. Kritiken, 1836, iii. s. 839 ff.

[104] It may here be observed, once for all, that whenever in the
following inquiry the names “Matthew,” “Luke,” etc., are used, it is
the author of the several Gospels who is thus briefly indicated, quite
irrespective of the question whether either of the Gospels was written
by an apostle or disciple of that name, or by a later unknown author.

[105] See Kuinöl Comm. in Luc., Proleg., p. 247.

[106] Paulus, exeget. Handbuch, 1 a. s. 78 f. 96. Bauer, hebr. Mythol.,
2 Bd. s. 218 f.

[107] Here Michael is called one of the chief princes.

[108] Here Raphael is represented as one of the seven angels which go
in and out before the glory of the holy One; (Tobit, xii. 15), almost
the same as Gabriel in Luke i. 19, excepting the mention of the number.
This number is in imitation of the Persian Amschaspands. Vid. De Wette,
bibl. Dogmatik, § 171 b.

[109] Hieros. rosch haschanah f. lvi. 4. (Lightfoot, horæ hebr. et
talmud. in IV. Evangg., p. 723): R. Simeon ben Lachisch dicit: nomina
angelorum ascenderunt in manu Israëlis ex Babylone. Nam antea dictum
est: advolavit ad me unus τῶν Seraphim, Seraphim steterunt ante eum,
Jes. vi.; at post: vir Gabriel, Dan. ix. 21, Michaël princeps vester,
Dan. x. 21.

[110] Olshausen, biblischer Commentar zum N.T., 1 Thl. s. 29 (2te
Auflage). Comp. Hoffmann, s. 124 f.

[111] Olshausen, ut sup. Hoffmann, s. 135.

[112] Ut sup. s. 77.

[113] Geschichte der drei letzten Lebensjahre Jesu, sammt dessen
Jugendgeschichte. Tübingen, 1779. 1 Bd. s. 12.

[114] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 115.

[115] Hebr. Mythol. ii. s. 218.

[116] Bauer, ut sup. i. s. 129. Paulus, exeget. Handbuch, i. a, 74.

[117] Paulus, Commentar, i. s. 12.

[118] Bauer, ut sup.

[119] Glaubenslehre, 1 Thl. § 42 und 43 (2te Ausgabe).

[120] Binder, Studien der evang. Geistlichkeit Würtembergs, ix. 2, 5.
11 ff.

[121] Compare my Dogmatik, i. § 49.

[122] Bibl. Comm., 1. Thl. s. 119.

[123] Ut sup. s. 92.

[124] Hess, Geschichte der drei letzten Lebensjahre Jesu u. s. w., 1.
Thl. s. 13, 33.

[125] Horst in Henke’s Museum, i. 4. s. 733 f. Gabler in seinem neuest.
theol. Journal, vii. 1. s. 403.

[126] Briefe über die Bibel im Volkstone (Ausg. Frankfurt und Leipzig,
1800), 1tes Bändchen, 6ter Brief, s. 51 f.

[127] Bahrdt, ut sup. s. 52.

[128] Exeget. Handb. 1, a. s. 74 ff.

[129] Bahrdt, ut sup. 7ter Brief, s. 60.—E. F. über die beiden ersten
Kapitel des Matthäus und Lukas, in Henke’s Magazin, v. 1. s. 163.
Bauer, hebr. Mythol. 2, s. 220.

[130] Exeget. Handb. 1, a. s. 77–80.

[131] Ut sup. s. 73.

[132] Comp. Schleiermacher über die Schriften des Lukas, s. 25.

[133] Horæ hebr. et talmud., ed. Carpzov. p. 722.

[134] Ut sup. s. 26.

[135] Examples borrowed from Aulus Gellius, v. 9, and from Valerius
Maximus, i. 8, are cited.

[136] Ut sup. s. 26.

[137] Ut sup. s. 72 f.

[138] Ut sup. s. 69.

[139] In Schmidt’s Bibliothek für Kritik und Exegese, iii. 1, s. 119.

[140] Paulus, ut sup.

[141] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1. 2, s. 9.

[142] Über die Schriften des Lukas, s. 23.

[143] Paulus und Olshausen z. d. St., Heydenreich a. a. O. 1, s. 87.

[144] Comp. Horst, in Henke’s Museum, i. 4, s. 705; Vater, Commentar
zum Pentateuch, 3, s. 597 ff.; Hase L. J., § 35; auch George, s. 33 f.
91.

[145] E. F. über die zwei ersten Kapitel u. s. w. in Henke’s Magazin,
v. 1, s. 162 ff., und Bauer hebr. Mythol., ii. 220 f.

[146] The adoption of this opinion is best explained by a passage—with
respect to this matter classical—in the Evangelium de nativitate Mariæ,
in Fabricius codex apocryphus N. Ti. 1, p. 22 f., and in Thilo 1, p.
322, “Deus”—it is here said,—cum alicujus uterum claudit, ad hoc facit,
ut mirabilius denuo aperiat, et non libidinis esse, quod nascitur, sed
divini muneris cognoscatur. Prima enim gentis vestræ Sara mater nonne
usque ad octogesimum annum infecunda fuit? et tamen in ultimâ
senectutis ætate genuit Isaac, cui repromissa erat benedictio omnium
gentium. Rachel quoque, tantum Domino grata tantumque a sancto Jacob
amata diu sterilis fuit, et tamen Joseph genuit, non solum dominum
Ægypti, sed plurimarum gentium fame periturarum liberatorem. Quis in
ducibus vel fortior Sampsone, vel sanctior Samuele? et tamen hi ambo
steriles matres habuere.—ergo—crede—dilatos diu conceptus et steriles
partus mirabiliores esse solere.

[147] Neuestes theol. Journal, vii. 1, s. 402 f.

[148] In Henke’s Museum, i. 4, s. 702 ff.

[149] Hase in his Leben Jesu makes the same admission; compare § 52
with § 32.

[150] Wetstein zu Luke i. 11, s. 647 f. adduces passages from Josephus
and from the Rabbins recording apparitions seen by the high priests.
How readily it was presumed that the same thing happened to ordinary
priests is apparent from the narrative before us.

[151]

Judges xiii. 14 (LXX.): Luc. i. 15.:

καὶ οἶνον καὶ σίκερα (al. μέθυσμα, καὶ οἶνον καὶ σίκερα οὐ μὲ
hebr. ‏שֵׁכָר‎) μὴ πιέτω. πίῃ.

[152]

Judg. xiii. 5: Luc. i. 15.:

ὅτι ἡγιασμένον ἔσται τῷ θεῷ (al. Ναζὶρ καὶ πνεύματος ἁγίου
θεοῦ ἔσται) τὸ παιδάριον οὐκ τῆς πλησθήσεται ἔτι ἐκ κοιλίας
γαστρός (al. ἀπὸ τῆς κοιλίας). μητρός αὐτοῦ.

[153]

Judg. xiii. 24 f.: Luc. i. 80:

καὶ ηὐλόγησεν αὐτὸν Κύριος, καὶ η τὸ δὲ παιδίον ηὔξανε καὶ
’ξήθη (al. ἡδρύνθη) τὸ παιδάριον· καὶ ἐκραταιοῦτο πνεύματι, κὰι ἦν ἐν
ἤρξατο πνεῦμα Κυρίου συμπορεύεσθαι ταῖς ἐρήμοις, ἕως ἡμέρας
αὐτῷ ἐν παρεμβολῇ Δὰν, ἀναμὲσον Σαρὰ ἁναδείξεως αὐτοῦ πρὸς τὸν
καὶ ἀναμέσον Ἐσθαόλ. Ἰσραήλ.

Comp. Gen. xxi. 20.

[154]

Gen. xvi. 11. (LXX.): Luc. i. 13:

καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἰσμαήλ. καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ
Ἰωάννην.

xvii. 19: — — Ἰσαάκ.

[155] Olshausen, bibl. Commentar, 1. s. 116. Hoffmann, s. 146.

[156] With this view of the passage compare De Wette, Exeg. Handbuch
zum N. T., 1, 2, s. 12.

[157] Kuinöl, Comm. in Matth. Proleg., p. xxvii. f.

[158] Paulus, p. 292.

[159] Hieron. in Daniel. init.

[160] See Wetstein.

[161] e.g. Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth., p. 13.

[162] Exegt. Handbuch, i. 1, s. 12 f.

[163] The expedient of Kuinöl, Comm. in Matth. p. 3, to distinguish the
Rahab here mentioned from the celebrated one, becomes hence
superfluous, besides that it is perfectly arbitrary.

[164] Hoffmann, s. 154, according to Hug, Einl., ii. s. 271.

[165] Compare Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth., p. 19; Paulus, exeget.
Handbuch, i. s. 289; De Wette, exeg. Handb. in loco.

[166] Fritzsche in Matth., p. 11.

[167] Paulus, s. 292.

[168] Bibl. Comm., p. 46, note.

[169] See Schneckenburger, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das N. T., s. 41
f., and the passage cited from Josephus, B. j. vi. 8. Also may be
compared the passage cited by Schöttgen, horæ hebr. et talm. zu Matth.
i. from Synopsis Sohar, p. 132, n. 18. Ab Abrahamo usque ad Salomonem
XV. sunt generationes; atque tunc luna fuit in plenilunio. A Salomone
usque ad Zedekiam iterum sunt XV. generationes, et tunc luna defecit,
et Zedekiæ effossi sunt oculi.

[170] De Wette has already called attention to the analogy between
these Old Testament genealogies and those of the Gospels, with regard
to the intentional equality of numbers. Kritik der mos. Geschichte, s.
69. Comp. s. 48.

[171] See Chrysostom and Luther, in Credner, Einleitung in d. N. T., 1,
s. 143 f. Winer, bibl. Realwörterbuch, 1., s. 659.

[172] Orig. homil. in Lucam 28.

[173] Luther, Werke, Bd. 14. Walch. Ausg. s. 8 ff.

[174] De consensu Evangelistarum, ii. 3, u. c. Faust., iii. 3; amongst
the moderns, for example, E. F. in Henke’s Magazin 5, 1, 180 f. After
Augustine had subsequently become acquainted with the writing of
Africanus, he gave up his own opinion for that of the latter. Retract,
ii. 7.

[175] Eusebius, H. E. i. 7, and lately e.g. Schleiermacher on Luke, p.
53.

[176] S. 53. Comp. Winer, bibl. Realwörterbuch, 1 Bd. s. 660.

[177] Comp. Michaelis, Mos. Recht. ii. s. 200. Winer, bibl.
Realwörterb. ii. s. 22 f.

[178] Thus e.g. Spanheim, dubia evang. p. 1. s. 13 ff. Lightfoot,
Michaelis, Paulus, Kuinöl, Olshausen, lately Hoffmann and others.

[179] Epiphanius, Grotius. Olshausen, s. 43.

[180] Testament XII. Patriarch., Test. Simeon c. 71. In Fabric. Codex
pseudepigr. V. T. p. 542: ἐξ αὐτῶν (the races of Levi and Juda)
άνατελεῖ ὑμῖν τὸ σωτήριον τοῦ θεοῦ. Ἀνασήσει γὰρ Κύριος ἐκ τοῦ Αευῒ ὡς
ἀρχιερέα, καὶ ἐκ τοῦ Ἰουδα ὡς βασιλέα κ.τ.λ.

[181] Comp. Thilo, cod. apocr. N.T. 1, s. 374 ff.

[182] Thus e.g. the Manichæan Faustus in Augustin. contra Faust. L.
xxiii. 4.

[183] Protevangel. Jacobi c. 1 f. u. 10. and evangel. de nativitate
Mariæ c. 1. Joachim and Anna, of the race of David, are here mentioned
as the parents of Mary. Faustus on the contrary, in the above cited
passage, gives Joachim the title of Sacerdos.

[184] Dial. c. Tryph. 43. 100. (Paris, 1742.)

[185] Paulus. The Jews also in their representation of a Mary, the
daughter of Heli, tormented in the lower world (see Lightfoot), appear
to have taken the genealogy of Luke, which sets out from Heli, for that
of Mary.

[186] e.g. Lightfoot, horæ, p. 750; Osiander, s. 86.

[187] Juchasin f. 55, 2. in Lightfoot s. 183, and Bava bathra, f. 110,
2. in Wetstein s. 230 f. Comp. Joseph. Vita, 1.

[188] Thus Eichhorn, Einl. in das N. T. 1 Dd s. 425. Kaiser, bibl.
Theol. 1, s. 232. Wegscheider, Institut. § 123, not. d. de Wette, bibl.
Dogm. § 279, and exeget. Handbuch 1, 2, s. 32. Winer, bibl.
Realwörterb. 1, s. 660 f. Hase, Leben Jesu, § 33. Fritzsche, Comm. in
Matt, p. 35. Ammon, Fortbildung des Christenthums zur Weltreligion 1,
s. 196 ff.

[189] See De Wette, bibl. Dogm. and exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 14; Hase, L.
J. Eusebius gives a not improbable explanation of this disagreement
(ad. Steph. quæst. iii., pointed out by Credner, 1, p. 68 f.) that
besides the notion amongst the Jews, that the Messiah must spring from
the royal line of David, another had arisen, that this line having
become polluted and declared unworthy of continuing on the throne of
David (Jerem. xxii. 30), by the wickedness of its later reigning
members, a line more pure though less famed was to be preferred to it.

[190] The farther considerations on the origin and import of these
genealogies, which arise from their connexion with the account of the
miraculous birth of Jesus, must be reserved till after the examination
of the latter point.

[191] Fabricius, Codex apocryphus N. T. 1, p. 19 ff. 66 ff.; Thilo, 1,
p. 161 ff. 319 ff.

[192] Gregory of Nyssa or his interpolator is reminded of this mother
of Samuel by the apocryphal Anna when he says of her: Μιμεῖται τοίνυν
καὶ αὕτη τὰ περὶ τῆς μετρὸς τοῦ Σαμουὴλ διηγήματα κ.τ.λ. Fabricius, 1,
p. 6.

[193] Evang. de nativ. Mar. c. 7: cunctos de domo et familia David
nuptui habiles, non conjugatos.

[194] Protev. Jac c. 8: τοὺς χηρεύοντας τοῦ λαοῦ.

[195] It is thus in the Evang. de nativ. Mariae vii. and viii.; but
rather different in the Protev. Jac. c. ix.

[196] Protev. c. 9: πρεσβύτης. Evang. de nativ. Mar. 8.: grandaevus.
Epiphan. adv. haeres. 78, 8: λαμβάνει τὴν Μαρίαν χῆρος, κατάγων ἡλικίαν
περί που ὀγδοήκοντα ἐτῶν καὶ πρόσω ὁ ἀνήρ.

[197] Παράλαβε αὐτὴν εἰς τήρησιν σεαυτῷ. c. ix. Compare with Evang. de
nativ. Mar. viii. and x.

[198] See the variations in Thilo, p. 227, and the quotations from the
Fathers at p. 365 not.

[199] Numb. v. 18.

[200] Protev. Jac. x.–xvi. The account in the Evang. de nativ. Mar. is
less characteristic.

[201] “Die natürliche Geschichte des grossen Propheten von Nazaret,”
1ter Band, s. 119 ff.

[202] Augustin, de consens. evangelist. ii. 5.

[203] Paulus, Olshausen, Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth. p. 56.

[204] Comp. de Wette’s exeg. Handbuch, i. 1, s. 18. Schleiermacher,
Ueber die Schriften des Lukas, s. 42 ff.

[205] Protev. Jac. c. 12: Μαριὰμ δέ ἐπελάθετο τῶν μυστηρίων ὧν εἶπε
πρὸς αὐτὴν Γαβριήλ. When questioned by Joseph she assures him with
tears: οὐ γινώσκω, πόθεν ἐστὶ τοῦτο τὸ ἐν τῇ γαστρί μου. c. 13.

[206] Geschichte der drei letzten Lebensjahre Jesu u. s. w. 1. Thl. s.
36. Comp. Hoffmann, s. 176 f.

[207] Ch. viii.–x.

[208] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1 a, s. 121. 145.

[209] To this opinion Neander inclines, L. J. Ch. s. 18.

[210]

Gen. xvii. 19; LXX. (Annunciation of Matt. i. 21.
Isaac):
(μὴ φοβηθῆς παραλαβεῖν Μαριὰμ
ἰδοὺ Σάῤῥα ἡ γυνή σου τέξεται σοι τὴν γυναῖκα σου—) τέξεται δὲ
υἱὸν, καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ υἱὸν, καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα
Ἰσαάκ. αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν· αὐτὸς γὰρ σώσει
τὸν λαὸν αὑτοῦ ἀπὸ· τῶν ἁμαρτιῶν
Judg. xiii. 5. (Annunciation of αὐτῶν.
Samson):
Luke i. 30 ff.
καὶ αὐτὸς ἄρξεται σῶσαι τὸν Ἰσραὴλ
ἐκ χειρὸς φυλιστιΐμ. καὶ εἶπεν ὁ ἄγγελος αὐτῇ—ἰδοὺ
συλλήψῃ ἐν γαστρὶ, καὶ τέξῃ
Gen. xvi. 11 ff. (Annunciation of υἱὸν, καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα
Ishmael): αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν. Οὗτος ἔσται.——.

καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῆ ὁ ἄγγελος Κυρίου·
ἰδοὺ σὺ ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχεις, καὶ τέξη
υἱὸν καὶ καλέσεις τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ
Ἰσμαήλ. Οὗτος ἔσται — —.

[211] Comp. de Wette, Kritik der mos. Geschichte, s. 86 ff.

[212] The vision which, according to Matthew, Joseph had in his sleep,
had besides a kind of type in the vision by which, according to the
Jewish tradition related by Josephus, the father of Moses was comforted
under similar circumstances, when suffering anxiety concerning the
pregnancy of his wife, although for a different reason. Joseph. Antiq.
II. ix. 3. “A man whose name was Amram, one of the nobler sort of
Hebrews, was afraid for his whole nation, lest it should fail, by the
want of young men to be brought up hereafter, and was very uneasy at
it, his wife being then with child, and he knew not what to do.
Hereupon he betook himself to prayer to God.... Accordingly God had
mercy on him, and was moved by his supplication. He stood by him in his
sleep, and exhorted him not to despair of his future favours.... For
this child of thine shall deliver the Hebrew nation from the distress
they are under from the Egyptians. His memory shall be famous while the
world lasts.”

[213] Comp. Ammon, Fortbildung des Christenthums, i. s. 208 f.

[214] Ueber die Schriften des Lukas, s. 23.

[215] Compare Gesenius and Hitzig. Commentaren zum Jesaia; Umbreit,
Ueber die Geburt des Immanuel durch eine Jungfrau, in den theol.
Studien u. Krit., 1830, 3. Heft, s. 541 ff.

[216] This explanation does away with the importance of the controversy
respecting the word ‏עָלְמָה‎. Moreover it ought to be decided by the fact
that the word does not signify an immaculate, but a marriageable young
woman (see Gesenius). So early as the time of Justin the Jews
maintained that the word ‏עָלְמָה‎ ought not to be rendered by παρθένος
but by νεᾶνις. Dial c. Tryph. no. 43. p. 130 E. Comp. Iren. adv. haer.
iii. 21.

[217] Christologie des A. T. s. 1, b, s. 47.

[218] See Winer, Grammatik des neutest. Sprachidioms, 3te Aufl. s. 382
ff. Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth. p. 49. 317 und Excurs. 1, p. 836 ff.

[219] See the Introduction, § 14.

[220] See Bleek in den theol. Studien u. Kritiken, 1835, 2, s. 441 ff.

[221] The whole rationalistic interpretation of Scripture rests upon a
sufficiently palpable paralogism, by which it stands or falls:

The New Testament authors are not to be interpreted as if they said
something irrational (certainly not something contrary to their own
modes of thinking).

Now according to a particular interpretation their assertions are
irrational (that is contrary to our modes of thinking).

Consequently the interpretation cannot give the original sense, and a
different interpretation must be given.

Who does not here perceive the quaternio terminorum and the fatal
inconsequence, when Rationalism takes its stand upon the same ground
with supernaturalism; that, namely, whilst with regard to all other men
the first point to be examined is whether they speak or write what is
just and true, to the New Testament writers the prerogative is granted
of this being, in their case, already presupposed?

[222] Conjugial. præcept. Opp. ed. Hutton, Vol. 7. s. 428.

[223] Irenäus, adv. haer. 1, 26: Cerinthus, Jesum subjecit non ex
virgine natum, impossibile enim hoc ei visum est.

[224] In Henke’s neuem Magazin, iii. 3, s. 369.

[225] Homil. in Lucam xiv. Comp. my Streitschriften, i. 2, s. 72 f.

[226] Olshausen, Bibl. Comm. s. 49. Neander, L. J. Ch. s. 16 f.

[227] e.g. by Eichhorn, Einleitung in das N. T. 1. Bd. s. 407.

[228] Glaubenslehre, 2 Thl. § 97. s. 73 f. der zweiten Auflage.

[229] This side is particularly considered in der Skiagraphie des
Dogma’s von Jesu übernatürlicher Geburt, in Schmidt’s Bibliothek, i. 3,
s. 400 ff.; in den Bemerkungen über den Glaubenspunkt: Christus ist
empfangen vom heil. Geist, in Henke’s neuem Magazin, iii. 3, 365 ff.;
in Kaiser’s bibl. Theol. 1, s. 231 f.; De Wette’s bibl. Dogmatik, §
281; Schleiermacher’s Glaubenslehre, 2 Thl. § 97.

[230] Brought to bear upon this point by Neander, L. J. Ch. s. 12.

[231] Augustinus contra Faustum Manichaeum, L. 23. 3. 4. 8.

[232] See Schmidt, Schleiermacher, and Wegscheider, Instit. § 123 (not.
d).

[233] Eichhorn thinks this probable, Einl. in das N. T. i. s. 425, De
Wette possible, exeg. Handb. i. 1, s. 7.

[234] Justin Mart. Dial. cum Tryphone, 48; Origines contra Celsum, L.
5, 61. Euseb. H. E. 3, 27.

[235] Epiphan. haeres. 30, 14.

[236] Haeres. 29, 9.

[237] Credner, in den Beiträgen zur Einleitung in das N. T. 1, s. 443.
Anm.

[238] Orig. ut sup.

[239] See Neander, K. G. 1, 2, s. 615 f.

[240] Credner, über Essener, und einen theilweisen Zusammenhang beider,
in Winer’s Zeitschrift f. wissenschaftliche Theologie, 1. Bd. 2tes and
3tes Heft; see Baur, Progr. de Ebionitarum origine et doctrinâ ab
Essenis repetendâ, und christl. Gnosis, s. 403.

[241] De carne Christi, c. 14: Poterit haec opinio Hebioni convenire,
qui nudum hominem, et tantum ex semine David, i.e. non et Dei filium,
constituit Jesum, ut in illo angelum fuisse edicat.

[242] Neander and Schneckenburger are of the latter, Gieseler and
Credner of the former opinion.

[243] I here refer to the account of Hegesippus in Eusebius, H. E. iv.
22.

[244] Homil. 3, 23–27.

[245] Epiphan. haeres. 30, 18. comp. 15.

[246] That these were the traits in David’s character which displeased
the Christian sect in question, is sufficiently evident from a passage
in the Clementine Homilies, though the name is not given: Homil. 3, 25;
ἕτι μὴν καὶ οἱ ἀπὸ θης τούτου (τοῦ Καΐν) διαδοχης προεληλυθότες πρωτοι
μοιχοὶ ἐγένοντο, καὶ ψαλτήρια, καὶ κιθάραι, καὶ χαλκεῖς ὅπλων πολεμικῶν
ἐγένοντο. Δὶ ὃ καὶ ἡ τῶν ἐγγὁνων προφητεία, μοιχῶν καὶ ψαλτηρίων
γέμουσα, λανθανόντως διὰ τῶν ἡδυπαυειων ὡς τοὺς πολέμους ἐγείρει.

[247] Epiphan. haer. 30, 14. 16. 34.

[248] Homil. 3, 17.

[249] Schneckenburger, über das Evang. der Aegypter, s. 7; Baur,
christl. Gnosis, s. 760 ff. See on the other side Credner and Hoffmann.

[250] Orig. Comm. in Matth. T. 16, 12. Tertullian, De carne Christi,
14, s. Anm. 13 (a passage in which indeed the speculative and ordinary
Ebionites are mingled together).

[251] Clement, homil. 18, 13. They referred the words of Matth. xi. 27:
οὐδεὶς ἔγνω τὸν πατέρα, εἰ μὴ ὁ υἱὸς κ.τ.λ. to τοὺς πατέρα νομίζοντας
χριστοῦ τὸν Δαβὶδ, καὶ αὐτὸν δὲ τὸν χριστὸν υἱὸν ὄντα, καὶ υἱὸν θεοῦ μὴ
ἐγνωκότας, and complained that αἰτὶ τοῦ θεοῦ τὸν Δαβὶδ πάντες ἔλεγον.

[252] Haeres. 30, 14: ὁ μὲν γὰρ Κήρινθος καὶ Κάρποκρας τῷ αὐτῷ χρώμενοι
παρ’ αὐτοῖς (τοῖς Ἑβιωναίοις) εὐαγγελίῳ, ἀπὸ τῆς ἀρχις τοῦ κατὰ
Ματθαῖον εὐαγγελίου διὰ τῆς γενεαλογίας Βούλονται παριστᾷν ἐκ σπέρματος
Ἰωσὴφ καὶ Μαρίας εἶναι τὸν χριστόν.

[253] Dial. c. Tryph. 100. 120.

[254] Br..., die Nachricht, dass Jesus durch den heil. Geist und von
einer Jungfrau geboren sei, aus Zeitbegriffen erläutert. In Schmidt’s
Bibl. 1, 1. s. 101 ff.—Horst, in Henke’s Museum 1, 4, 497 ff., über die
beiden ersten Kapitel in Evang. Lukas.

[255] Bemerkungen über den Glaubenspunkt: Christus ist empfangen vom
heil. Geist. In Henke’s neuem Magazin, 3, 3, 399.

[256] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 26 f.

[257] Im neuesten theol. Journal, 7. Bd. 4. Stück, s. 407 f.

[258] Antiq. xviii. 3, 4.

[259] Iter Theil, s. 140 ff.

[260] The legend has undergone various modifications, but the name of
Panthera or Pandira has been uniformly retained. Vid. Origenes c. Cels.
1, 28., 32. Schöttgen, Horæ 2, 693 ff. aus Tract. Sanhedrin u. A.;
Eisenmenger, entdecktes Judenthum, 1, s. 105 ff. aus der Schmähschrift:
Toledoth Jeschu; Thilo, cod. apocr. s. 528. Comp. my Abhandlung über
die Namen Panther, Pantheras, Pandera, in jüdischen und patristischen
Erzählungen von der Abstammung Jesu. Athenäum, Febr. 1839, s. 15 ff.

[261] Orig. c. Celsus i. 32.

[262] Ibid. vi. 8.

[263] Ibid. i. 37.

[264] Gabler, in seinem neuesten theol. Journal, 7, 4. s. 408 f.;
Eichhorn, Einleitung in das N. T. 1, s. 428 f.; Bauer, hebr. Mythol. 1,
192 e ff.; Kaiser, bibl. Theologie, 1, s. 231 f.; Wegscheider, Instit.
§ 123; De Wette, bibl. Dogmat. § 281, und exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 18 f.,
Ammon, Fortbildung des Christenth. s. 201 ff.; Hase, L. J. § 33;
Fritzsche, Comment. in Matth. s. 56. The latter justly remarks in the
title to the first chapter: non minus ille (Jesus) ut ferunt doctorum
Judaicorum de Messiâ sententiæ, patrem habet spiritum divinum, matrem
virginem.

[265] Jamblich. vita Pythagoræ. cap. 2, ed. Kiessling.

[266] Adv. Jovin. 1, 26. Diog. Laërt., 3, 1, 2.

[267] Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 64.

[268] Apologie des L. J. s. 92.

[269] Diog. Laërt a. a. O.: Σπεύσιππος (Sororis Platonis filius,
Hieron.) δ’· ἐν τῷ ἐπιγραφομένῳ Πλάτωνος περδείπνῳ καὶ Κλέαρχος ἐν τῷ
Πλάτωνος ἐγκωμίῳ καὶ Ἀναξιλίδης ἐν τῷ δευτέρῳ περὶ φιλοσόφων, φασὶν,
Ἀθήνησιν ἦν λόγος, κ.τ.λ.

[270] Neander, L. J. Ch. s. 10.

[271] Antiq. 15. 2. 6.

[272]

Gen. xviii., 14 Sept. Luke i. 37.

μὴ ἀδυνατήσει παρὰ τῷ θεῷ ῥῆμα; ὅτι οὐκ ἀδυνατήσει παρὰ τῷ θεῷ πᾶν
ῥῆμα.

[273] De Wette, Exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 17.

[274] They are to be found however in the more modern Rabbins, s.
Matthæi, Religionsgl. der Apostel 2, a. s. 555 ff.

[275] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 47. Also Daub. 2 a. s. 311 f; Theile, § 14.
Neander, s. 9.

[276] Diog. Laërt. a. a. O. See Origenes c. Cels. 1, 37.

[277] Demonax, 29.

[278] S. Origenes in Matthæum, Opp. ed. de la Rue, Vol. 3. s. 463.

[279] The Arian Eunomius according to Photius taught τὸν Ἰωσὴφ μετὰ τὴν
ἄφραστον κυοφορίαν συνάπτεσθαι τῇ παρθένῳ. This was also, according to
Epiphanius, the doctrine of those called by him Dimaerites and
Antidicomarianites, and in the time of Jerome, of Helvidius and his
followers. Compare on this point the Sammlung von Suicer, im Thesaurus
ii., s. v. Μαρία, fol. 305 f.

[280] Comp. Hieron. adv. Helv. 6, 7, Theophylact and Suidas in Suicer,
1, s. v. ἔως, fol. 1294 f.

[281] Hieron. z. d. St.

[282] See Orig. in Matth. Tom. 10, 17; Epiphan. haeres. 78, 7; Historia
Josephi, c. 2; Protev. Jac. 9. 18.

[283] Chrysostomus, hom. 142, in Suicer, s. v. Μαρία, most repulsively
described in the Protev. Jac. xix. and xx.

[284] Hieron. ad Matth. 12, und advers. Helvid. 19.

[285] Die Brüder Jesu. In Winer’s Zeitschrift für wissenschaftliche
Theologie, 1, 3. s. 364 f.

[286] Biblisches Realwörterbuch, 1 Bd. s. 664, Anm. De Wette, z. d. St.
Neander L. J. Ch., s. 34.

[287] Comment. in Matth. s. 53 ff., vgl. auch s. 835.

[288] Olshausen is exceedingly unhappy in the example chosen by him in
support of his interpretation of ἕως οὗ. For when it is said, we waited
till midnight but no one came, certainly this by no means implies that
after midnight some one did come, but it does imply that after midnight
we waited no longer; so that here the expression till retains its
signification of exclusion.

[289] On this subject compare in particular Clemen, die Brüder Jesu, in
Winer’s Zeitschrift für wiss. Theol. 1, 3, s. 329 ff.; Paulus, Exeg.
Handbuch, 1 Bd. s. 557 ff.; Fritzsche, a. a. O. s. 480 ff.; Winer,
bibl. Realwörterbuch, in den A. A.; Jesus, Jacobus, Apostel.

[290] See the different names assigned them in the legend in Thilo,
Codex apocryphus N.T., 1. s. 360 note.

[291] Euseb. H. E. 2, 1.

[292] Euseb. H. E. 3, 11.

[293] Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth. p. 482.

[294] Theile, Biographie Jesu, § 18.

[295] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1. a, s. 120 ff.

[296] S. Olshausen und de Wette, z. d. St.

[297] Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 26; Olshausen, bibl. Comm. z. d.
St.; Hoffmann, s. 226; Lange, s. 76 ff.

[298] Compare Luke i. 47 with 1 Sam. ii. 1.
,, i. 49 ,, ,, ii. 2.
,, i. 51 ,, ,, ii. 3, 4.
,, i. 52 ,, ,, ii. 8.
,, i. 53 ,, ,, ii. 5.

Particularly Compare Luke i. 48 with 1 Sam. i. 11.
Luke i. 50 Deut. vii. 9.
,, i. 52 Ecclesiasticus x. 14.
,, i. 54 Ps. xcviii. 3.

[299] 5 Band, 1. Stück, s. 161. f.

[300] In Henke’s Museum, 1, 4, s. 725.

[301] Ueber den Lukas, s. 23 f.

[302] Olshausen, Paulus, Kuinöl.

[303] Tholuck, s. 194 ff. Neander, s. 19.

[304] Cassiodor. Variarum, 3, 52. Isidor. Orig. 5, 36.

[305] To refer here to the Monumentum Ancyranum, which is said to
record a census of the whole empire in the year of Rome 746 (Osiander,
p. 95), is proof of the greatest carelessness. For he who examines this
inscription will find mention only of three assessments census civium
Romanorum, which Suetonius designates census populi, and of which Dio
Cassius speaks, at least of one of them, as ἀπογραφὴ τῶν ἐν τῇ Ἰταλίᾳ
κατοικούντων. See Ideler, Chronol. 2, s. 339.

[306] In the authoritative citations in Suidas are the words taken from
Luke, αὔτη ἡ ἀπογραφὴ πρώτη ἐγένετο.

[307] Hoffmann, s. 231.

[308] Joseph. Antiq. 17, 13, 2. B. j. 2, 7, 3.

[309] Antiq. 17, 13, 5. 18, 1, 1. B. j. 2, 8, 1.

[310] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, a, s. 171. Winer, bibl. Realwörterbuch.

[311] Tacit. Annal. 1, 11. Sueton. Octav. 191. But if in this document
opes publicæ continebantur: quantum civium sociorumque in armis; quot
classes, regna, provinciæ, tributa aut vectigalia, et necessitates ac
largitiones: the number of troops and the sum which the Jewish prince
had to furnish, might have been given without a Roman tax being levied
in their land. For Judea in particular Augustus had before him the
subsequent census made by Quirinus.

[312] Ὅτι, πάλαι χρώμενος αὐτῷ φιλω, νῦν ὑπηκόῳ χρήσεται. Joseph.
Antiq. 16, 9, 3. But the difference was adjusted long before the death
of Herod. Antiq. 16, 10, 9.

[313] Joseph. Ant. 17, 2, 4. παντὸς τοῦ Ἰουδαϊκοῦ βεβαιώσαντος δι’
ὅρκων ἣ μὴν εὐνοῆσαι Καίσαρι καὶ τοῖς βασιλέως πράγμασι. That this
oath, far from being a humiliating measure for Herod, coincided with
his interest, is proved by the zeal with which he punished the
Pharisees who refused to take it.

[314] Tholuck, s. 192 f. But the insurrection which the ἀπογραφὴ after
the depositions of Archelaus actually occasioned—a fact which outweighs
all Tholuck’s surmises—proves it to have been the first Roman measure
of the kind in Judea.

[315] Antiq. 17, 9, 10, 1 ff. B. j. 2. 2. 2. His oppressions however
had reference only to the fortresses and the treasures of Herod.

[316] Antiq. 18, 1, 1.

[317] Bell. jud. 2, 8, 1. 9. 1. Antiq. 17, 13, 5.

[318] Kuinöl, Comm. in Luc. p. 320.

[319] Winer.

[320] Adv. Marcion. 4, 19.

[321] Storr, opusc. acad. 3, s. 126 f. Süskind, vermischte Aufsätze, s.
63. Tholuck, s. 182 f.

[322] Michaelis, Anm. z. d. St. und Einl. in d. N.T. 1, 71.

[323] Münter, Stern der Weisen, s. 88.

[324] Paulus. Wetstein.

[325] Credner.

[326] In Schmidt’s Bibliothek für Kritik und Exegese, 3, 1. s. 124. See
Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 230; Ammon, Fortbildung, 1, s. 196; Credner,
Einleitung, in d. N.T. 1, s. 155; De Wette, exeget. Handbuch.

[327] Chap. 17. Compare Historia de nativ. Mariae et de infantiâ
Servatoris, c. 13.

[328] Fabricius, im Codex Apocryph. N.T. 1, s. 105, not. y.

[329] Ambrosius and Jerome. See Gieseler, K. G. 1, s. 516.

[330] Dial. c. Tryph. 78.

[331] C. Cels. 1, 51.

[332] Hess, Olshausen, Paulus.

[333] Paulus.

[334] Chap. 14.

[335] Chap. 4 in Thilo, s. 69.

[336] In seinem Versuch über die Wundergeschichten des N. T. See
Gabler’s Neuestes theol. Journal, 7, 4, s. 411.

[337] Exeg. Handb. s. 180 ff. As Paulus supposes an external natural
phenomenon so Matthæi imagines a mental vision of angels. Synopse der
vier Evangelien, s. 3.

[338] Hebräische Mythologie, 2. Thl. s. 223 ff.

[339] Recension von Bauer’s hebr. Mythologie in Gabler’s Journal für
auserlesene theol. Literatur, 2, 1, s. 58 f.

[340] Neuestes theol. Journal, 7, 4, s. 412 f.

[341] In Luc. 2. in Suicer, 2, p. 789.

[342] Servius ad Verg. Ecl. 10, 26.

[343] Liban. progymn. p. 138, in Wetstein, s. 662.

[344] Thus Cyrus, see Herod. 1, 110 ff. Romulus, see Livy, 1, 4.

[345] Thilo, Codex Apocr. N. T. 1, s. 383 not.

[346] Vid. Schöttgen, 2, s. 531.

[347] Sota, 1, 48: Sapientes nostri perhibent, circa horam nativitatis
Mosis totam domum repletam fuisse luce (Wetstein).

[348] Ueber den Lukas, s. 29. f. With whom Neander and others now
agree.—L. J. Ch. s. 21 f.

[349] Comp. De Wette, Kritik der mosaischen Geschichte, s. 116; George,
Mythus u. Sage, s. 33 f.

[350]

Gen. xxxvii. 11 (LXX.): Luc. 2, 18 f.:

Ἐζήλωσαν δὲ οὐτὸν οἱ ἀδελφοὶ καὶ πάντες οἱ ἀκούσαντες ἐθαύμασαν — —
αὐτοῦ, ὁ δὲ πατὴρ αὐτοῦ ἡ δὲ Μαριὰμ πάντα συνετήρει τὰ ῥήματα
διετήρησε τὸ ῥῆμα.—Schöttgen, ταῦτα, συμβάλλουσα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς.
horae, 1, 262. 2, 51: καὶ ἡ μήτηρ αὐτοῦ διετήρει
πάντα τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ
αὐτῆς.

[351] See Introduction.

[352] Perhaps as a precautionary measure to obviate objections on the
part of the Jews. (Ammon, Fortbildung, 1, s. 217.)

[353] Pirke R. Elieser, 33: Sex hominum nomina dicta sunt, antequam
nascerentur: Isaaci nempe, Ismaëlis, Mosis, Salomonis, Josiæ et nomen
regis Messiæ. Bereschith rabba, sect. 1, fol. 3, 3.—(Schöttgen, horae,
2, s. 436): Sex res prævenerunt creationem mundi: quædam ex illis
creatæ sunt, nempe lex et thronus gloriæ; aliæ ascenderunt in
cogitationem (Dei) ut crearentur, nimirum Patriarchæ, Israël, templum,
et nomen Messiæ.

[354] Comp. Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen
Evangeliums, s. 69 ff.

[355] Joseph. B. J. vi. vi. 4: Tacit. Histor. v. 13; Sueton. Vespas. 4.
All the extant allusions to the existence of such a hope at the era of
Christ’s birth, relate only in an indeterminate manner to a ruler of
the world. Virg. Eclog. 4; Sueton. Octav. 94.

[356] In saying that it is inadmissible to suppose a divine
intervention directly tending to countenance superstition, I refer to
what is called immediate intervention. In the doctrine of mediate
intervention, which includes the co-operation of man, there is
doubtless a mixture of truth and error. Neander confuses the two. L. J.
Ch., s. 29.

[357] Paulus and De Wette, exeg. Handb. in loc.

[358] According to Hoffmann (p. 256), that he might control the
assertion of the magi by inquiring of his own astrologers, whether they
had seen the star at the same time. This is not merely unsupported by
the text—it is in direct contradiction to it, for we are there told
that Herod at once gave terrified credence to the magi.

[359] Fritzsche, in loc. aptly says—comperto, quasi magos non ad se
redituros statim scivisset, orti sideris tempore, etc.

[360] K. Ch. L. Schmidt, exeg. Beiträge, 1, s. 150 f. Comp. Fritzsche
and De Wette in loc.

[361] Hoffman thinks that Herod shunned this measure as a breach of
hospitality; yet this very Herod he represents as a monster of cruelty,
and that justly, for the conduct attributed to the monarch in chap. ii.
of Matthew is not unworthy of his heart, against which Neander
superfluously argues (p. 30 f.), but of his head.

[362] Schmidt, ut sup. p. 155 f.

[363] Stark, Synops. bibl. exeg. in N. T., p. 62.

[364] This was the opinion of some of the Fathers, e.g. Euseb.
Demonstr. evang. 9, ap. Suicer, 1, s. 559; Joann. Damasc. de fide
orthod. ii. 7.

[365] Chrysostomus and others ap. Suicer, ut sup. and the Evang.
infant. arab. c. vii.

[366] See Kuinöl, Comm. in Matth., p. 23.

[367] Vermischte Aufsätze, s. 8.

[368] Bibl. Comm. in loc, Hoffmann, s. 261.

[369] Schmidt, exeg. Beiträge, 1, 152 ff.

[370] This is shown in opposition to Olshausen by Steudel in Bengel’s
Archiv. vii. ii. 425 f. viii. iii. 487.

[371] Schmidt, ut sup. p. 156.

[372] Babylon. Sanhedr. f. cvii. 2, ap. Lightfoot, p. 207. Comp.
Schöttgen, ii. p. 533. According to Josephus Antiq. xiii. xiii. 5, xiv.
2, they were Jews of each sex and of all ages, and chiefly Pharisees.

[373] Joseph. B. J. i. xxx. 3. Comp. Antiq. xvii. iv. 1.

[374] Macrob. Saturnal. ii. 4: Quum audisset (Augustus) inter pueros,
quos in Syriâ Herodes rex Judæorum intra bimatum jussit interfici,
filium quoque ejus occisum, ait: melius est, Herodis porcum (ὗν) esse
quam filium (υἱόν).

[375] Vid. Wetstein, Kuinöl, Olshausen in loc. Winer d. A. Herodes.

[376] Fritzsche, Comm. in Matt., p. 93 f.

[377] Chrysostom and others.

[378] Vid. Gratz, Comm. zum Ev. Matth. 1, s. 115.

[379] Kuinöl, ad Matth. p. 44 f.

[380] Wetstein, in loc.

[381] Schneckenburger, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das N. T., s. 42.

[382] Gieseler, Studien und Kritiken, 1831, 3. Heft, s. 588 f.
Fritzsche, s. 104. Comp. Hieron. ad Jesai. xi. 1.

[383] For both these explanations, see Kuinöl, in loc.

[384] Kepler, in various treatises; Münter, der Stern der Weisen;
Ideler, Handbuch der mathemat. und technischen Chronologie, 2. Bd. s.
399 ff.

[385] Olshausen, s. 67.

[386] Paulus, ut sup. s. 202, 221.

[387] Bengel’s Archiv. vii. ii. p. 424.

[388] At a later period, it is true, this journey of Jesus was the
occasion of calumnies from the Jews, but those were of an entirely
different nature, as will be seen in the following chapter.

[389] Ueber formelle oder genetische Erklärungsart der Wunder. In
Henke’s Museum, 1, 3, 399 ff. Similar essays see in the Abhandlungen
über die beiden ersten Kapitel des Matthäus u. Lukas, in Henke’s
Magazin, 5, 1, 171 ff., and in Matthäi, Religionsgl. der Apostel, 2, s.
422 ff.

[390] L. J. Ch., s. 29 ff.

[391] Orig. c. Cels. i. 60. Auctor, op. imperf. in Matth. ap. Fabricius
Pseudepigr. V. T., p. 807 ff.

[392] Schmidt’s Bibliothek, 3, 1, s. 130.

[393] In loc. Num. (Schöttgen, horæ, ii. p. 152): Multi Interpretati
sunt hæc de Messiâ.

[394] Justin, Hist. 37.

[395] Sueton. Jul. Cæs. 88.

[396] Jalkut Rubeni, f. xxxii. 3 (ap. Wetstein): quâ horâ natus est
Abrahamus, pater noster, super quem sit pax, stetit quoddam sidus in
oriente et deglutivit quatuor astra, quæ erant in quatuor cœli plagis.
According to an Arabic writing entitled Maallem, this star,
prognosticating the birth of Abraham, was seen by Nimrod in a dream.
Fabric. Cod. pseudepigr. V. T. i. s. 345.

[397] Testamentum XII. Patriarcharum, test. Levi, 18 (Fabric. Cod.
pseud. V. T. p. 584 f.): καὶ ἀνατελεῖ ἄστρον αὐτοῦ (of the Messianic
ἱερεὺς καινὸς) ἐν οὐρανῷ,—φωτίζον φῶς γνώσεως κ.τ.λ. Pesikta Sotarta,
f. xlviii. 1 (ap. Schöttgen, ii. p. 531): Et prodibit stella ab
oriente, quæ est stella Messiæ, et in oriente versabitur dies X V.
Comp. Sohar Genes. f. 74. Schöttgen, ii. 524, and some other passages
which are pointed out by Ideler in the Handbuch der Chronologie, 2 Bd.
s. 409, Anm. 1, and Bertholdt, Christologia Judæorum, § 14.

[398] Compare with the passages cited Note 7. Protevang. Jac. cap.
xxi.: εἴδομεν ἀστέρα παμμεγέθη, λάμψαντα ἐν τοῖς ἄστροις τοὺτοις καὶ
ἀμβλύνοντα αὐτοὺς τοῦ φαίνειν. Still more exaggerated in Ignat. ep. ad
Ephes. 19. See the collection of passages connected with this subject
in Thilo, cod. apocr. i. p. 390 f.

[399] Exeg. Beiträge, i. s. 159 ff.

[400] Fritzsche in the paraphrase of chap. ii. Etiam stella, quam
judaica disciplina sub Messiæ natale visum iri dicit, quo Jesus
nascebatur tempore exorta est.

[401] As in Matt. ii. 11 it is said of the magi τροσήνενκαν αὐτῷ—χρυσὸν
καὶ λίβανον: so in Isa. lx. 6 (LXX.): ἥξουσί, φέροντες χρυσίον, καὶ
λίβανον οἴσουσι. The third present is in Matt. σμύρνα, in Isa. λίθος
τίμιος.

[402] V. 1. und 3: ‏כִּי בָא אוֹרֵךְ וּכְבוֹד יהוָֹה עָלַיִךְ‎ (LXX: Ἰερουσαλὴμ) ‏קוּמִי
אוֹרִי זָרָח:—וְהָלְכוּ גּוֹיִם לְאוֹרֵךְ וּמְלָכִים לְנֹגַהּ זָרְחֵךְ‎

[403] Æneid, ii. 693 ff.

[404] Wetstein, in loc.

[405] Herod, i. 108 ff. Liv. i. 4.

[406] Octav. 94:—ante paucos quam nasceretur menses prodigium Romæ
factum publice, quo denuntiabatur, regem populi Romani naturam
parturire. Senatum exterritum, censuisse, ne quis illo anno genitus
educaretur. Eos, qui gravidas uxores haberent, quo ad se quisque spem
traheret, curasse, ne Senatus consultum ad ærarium deferretur.

[407] Bauer (über das Mythische in der früheren Lebensper. des Moses,
in the n. Theol. Journ. 13, 3) had already compared the marvellous
deliverance of Moses with that of Cyrus and Romulus; the comparison of
the infanticides was added by De Wette, Kritik der Mos. Geschichte, s.
176.

[408] Joseph. Antiq. ii. ix. 2.

[409] Jalkut Rubeni (cont. of the passage cited in Note 6): dixerunt
sapientes Nimrodi: natus est Tharæ filius hâc ipsâ horâ, ex quo
egressurus est populus, qui hæreditabit præsens et futurum seculum; si
tibi placuerit, detur patri ipsius domus argento auroque plena, et
occidat ipsum. Comp. the passage of the Arabic book quoted by Fabric.
Cod. pseudepigr. ut sup.

[410] Protev. Jacobi, c. xxii. f.

[411]

Ex. iv. 19, LXX: Matt. ii. 20:

βάδιζε, ἄπελθε εἰς Αἴγυπτον, ἐγερθεὶς—πορεύου εἰς γῆν Ἰσραήλ·
τεθνήκασι γὰρ πάντες οἱ ζητοῦντές τεθνήκασι γὰρ οἱ ζητοῦντες τὴν
σου τὴν ψυχὴν. ψυχὴν τοῦ παιδίου.

We may remark that the inappropriate use of the plural in the
evangelical passage, can only be explained on the supposition of a
reference to the passage in Exod. See Winer, N. T. Gramm. s. 149. Comp.
also Exod. iv. 20 with Matt. ii. 14, 21.

[412] Vide e.g. Schöttgen, Horæ, ii. p. 209.

[413] Theile, zur Biographie Jesu, § 15, Anm. 9. Hoffmann, s. 269.

[414] Comp. my Streitschriften, i. 1, s. 42 f.; George, s. 39.

[415] Neander, L. J. Ch. s. 27.

[416] Schleiermacher (Ueber den Lukas, s. 47), explains the narrative
concerning the magi as a symbolical one; but he scorns to take into
consideration the passages from the O. T. and other writings, which
have a bearing on the subject, and by way of retribution, his
exposition at one time rests in generalities, at another, takes a wrong
path.

[417] Lightfoot, Horæ, p. 202.

[418] Schneckenburger, Ueber den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen
Evangeliums, s. 69 ff.

[419] Thus, e.g. Augustin de consensu evangelistarum, ii. 5. Storr,
opusc. acad. iii. s. 96 ff. Süskind, in Bengel’s Archiv. i. 1, s. 216
ff.

[420] E.g. Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 51 ff. Paulus, Olshausen, in
loc.

[421] Süskind, ut sup. s. 222.

[422] The same difference as to the chronological relation of the two
incidents exists between the two different texts of the apocryphal
book: Historia de nativitate Mariæ et de inf. Serv., see Thilo, p. 385,
not.

[423] This incompatibility of the two narratives was perceived at an
early period by some opponents of Christianity. Epiphanius names one
Philosabbatius, together with Celsus and Porphyry (hæres. li. 8).

[424] Neander, L. J. Ch. s. 33, Anm.

[425] Schleiermacher, Ueber den Lukas, s. 47. Schneckenburger, ut sup.

[426] Antiq. xiv. ix. 4, xv. i. 1 and x. 4.

[427] The Evang. Nicodemi indeed calls him, c. xvi. ὁ μέγας διδάσκαλος,
and the Protev. Jacobi, c. xxiv. makes him a priest or even high
priest, vid. Varr. ap. Thilo Cod. Apocr. N. T. 1, s. 271, comp. 203.

[428] 1 Th. s. 205 ff.

[429] Cap. vi. Viditque illum Simeon senex instar columnæ lucis
refulgentem, cum Domina Maria virgo, mater ejus, ulnis suis eum
gestaret,—et circumdabant eum angeli instar circuli, celebrantes illum,
etc. Ap. Thilo, p. 71.

[430] Thus E. F. in the treatise, on the two first chapters of Matth.
and Luke. In Henke’s Mag. 5 bd. s. 169 f. A similar half measure is in
Matthäi, Synopse der 4 Evan. s. 3, 5 f.

[431] With the words of Simeon addressed to Mary: καὶ σοῦ δὲ αὐτῆς τὴν
ψυχὲν διελεύσεται ῥομφαία (v. 35) comp. the words in the messianic
psalm of sorrow, xxii. 21: ῥῦσαι ἀπὸ ῥομφαίας τὴν ψυχέν μου.

[432] Schleiermacher, Ueber den Lukas, s. 37. Compare on the other hand
the observations in § 18, with those of the authors there quoted, Note
19.

[433] Neander here (s. 24 f.) mistakes the apocryphal for the mythical,
as he had before done the poetical.

[434] Olshausen, bibl. Comm. 1. s. 142 f.

[435] Dial. c. Trypho, 78: Joseph came from Nazareth, where he lived,
to Bethlehem, whence he was, to be enrolled, ἀνεληλύθει (Ἰωσὴφ) ἀπὸ
Ναζαρὲτ, ἔνθα ὤκει, εἰς Βηθλεὲμ, ὅθεν ἦν, ἀπογράψασθαι. The words ὅθεν
ἦν might however be understood as signifying merely the place of his
tribe, especially if Justin’s addition be considered: For his race was
of the tribe of Judah, which inhabits that land, ἀπο γὰρ τῆς
κατοικούσης τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην φυλῆς Ἰούδα τὸ γένος ἦν.

[436] Beiträge zur Einleit. in das N. T. 1. s. 217. Comp. Hoffmann, s.
238 f. 277 ff.

[437] C. I. 8. 10.

[438] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, a, s. 178.

[439] Ueber die Unzulässigkeit der mythischen Auffassung u. s. f. 1, s.
101.

[440] L. J. Ch. s. 33.

[441] Tertull. adv. Marcion iv. 8. Epiphan. hær. xxix. 1.

[442] Comp K. Ch. L. Schmidt, in Schmidt’s Bibliothek, 3, 1, s. 123 f.;
Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 230.

[443] On this Heydenreich rests his defence, Ueber die Unzulässigkeit.
1. s. 99.

[444] Ueber den Lukas, s. 49. There is a similar hesitation in Thelte,
Biographie Jesu, § 15.

[445] Ueber den Ursprung u. s. w., s. 68 f. u. s. 158.

[446] Comp. Ammon. Fortbildung, 1, s. 194 ff.; De Wette, exeget. Handb.
1, 2, s. 24 f.; George, s. 84 ff. That different narrators may give
different explanations of the same fact, and that these different
explanations may afterwards be united in one book, is proved by many
examples in the O. T. Thus in Genesis, three derivations are given of
the name of Isaac; two of that of Jacob (xxv. 26., xxvii. 16), and so
of Edom and Beersheba (xxi. 31., xxvi. 33). Comp. De Wette, Kritik der
mos. Gesch., s. 110. 118 ff. and my Streitschriften, I, 1, s. 83 ff.

[447] Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 110.

[448] Olshausen, bibl. Comm. 1, s. 145 f.

[449] Olshausen, ut sup. 1. 150.

[450] Hase, Leben Jesu, § 37.

[451] Heydenreich, über die Unzulässigkeit u. s. f. 1, s. 103.

[452] Megillah, f. 21, apud Lightfoot, in loc.

[453] Vid. Kuinöl, in Luc. p. 353.

[454] Evang. Thomæ, c. vi. ff. Ap. Thilo. p. 288 ff. and Evang. infant,
arab. c. xlviii. p. 123, Thilo.

[455] Ibid.

[456] Evang. infant, arab. c. l.

[457] Ibid. c. l. and li.; comp. ev. Thomæ, c. xix.

[458] Olshausen confesses this, s. 151.

[459] For proofs (e.g. Hieros. Taanith, lxvii. 4) see Wetstein and
Lightfoot, in loc.

[460] Lightfoot, Horæ, p. 742.

[461] Paulus, s. 279.

[462] Kuinöl, s. 353 f.

[463] Horæ, ii. p. 886.

[464] Bibl. Comm. p. 151.

[465] Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 112.

[466] In the similar account also which Josephus gives us of himself
when fourteen, it is easy to discern the exaggeration of a
self-complacent man. Life, 2: Moreover, when I was a child, and about
fourteen years of age, I was commended by all for the love I had to
learning, on which account the high priests and principal men of the
city came there frequently to me together, in order to know my opinion
about the accurate understanding of points of the law.

[467]

1 Sam. ii. 26 (LXX): Luc. ii. 52:

καὶ τὸ παιδάριον Σαμουὴλ ἐπορεύετο καὶ Ἰησοῦς προέκοπτε σοφία καὶ
μαγαλυνόμενον, καὶ ἀγαθὸν καὶ μετὰ ἡλικίᾳ, καὶ χάριτι παρὰ θεῷ καὶ
Κυρίου καὶ μετὰ ἀνθρώπων. ἀνθρώποις.

Compare also what Josephus says Antiq. ii. ix. 6 of the χάρις παιδικὴ
of Moses.

[468] Gabler neuest. theol. Journal 3, 1, s. 39.

[469] Joseph. Antiq. ii. ix. 6.

[470] Philo, de vita Mosis, Opp. ed. Mangey, Vol. 2. p. 83 f. οὐχ οἷα
κομιδῆ νήπιος ἥδετο τωθασμοῖς καὶ γέλωσι καὶ παιδιαῖς—ἀλλ’ αἰδω καὶ
σεμνότητα παραφαίνων, ἀπούσμασι καὶ θεάμασιν, ἃ τὴν ψυχὴν ἔμελλεν
ὠφελήσειν προσεῖχε. διδάσκαλοι δ’ εὐθὺς, ἀλλαχόθεν ἄλλος, παρῆσαν·—ὧν
ἐν οὐ μακρῷ χρόνῳ τὰς δυνάμεις ὑπερέβαλεν, εὐμοιρίᾳ φύσεως φθάνων τὰς
ὑφηγὴσεις.

[471] Chagiga, ap. Wetstein, in loc. A XII anno filius censetur
maturus. So Joma f. lxxxii. 1. Berachoth f. xxiv. 1; whereas Bereschith
Rabba lxiii. mentions the 13th year as the critical one.

[472] Schemoth R. ap. Wetstein: Dixit R, Chama: Moses duodenarius
avulsus est a domo patris sui etc.

[473] Joseph. Antiq. v. x. 4: Σαμούηλος δὲ πεπληρωκὼς ἔτος ἤδη
δωδέκατον, προεφήτευς.

[474] Ignat. ep. (interpol.) ad Magnes. c. iii.: Σολομῶν δὲ—δωδεκαετὴς
βασιλεύσας, τὴν φοβερὰν ἑκείνην καὶ δυσερμήνευτον ἐπὶ ταῖς γυναιξὶ
κρίσιν ἕνεκα τῶν παιδίων ἐποιήσατο.—Δανιὴλ ὁ σοφὸς δωδεκαετὴς γέγονε
κάτοχος τῷ θείῳ πνεύματι, καὶ τοὺς μάτην τὴν πολιὰν φέροντας πρεσβύτας
συκοφάντας καὶ ἐπιθυμητὰς ἀλλοτρίου κάλλους ἀπήλεγξε. But Solomon, ...
being king at the age of twelve years, gave that terrible and profound
judgment between the women with respect to the children.... Daniel, the
wise man, when twelve years old, was possessed by the divine spirit,
and convicted those calumniating old men who, carrying gray hairs in
vain, coveted the beauty that belonged to another. This, it is true, is
found in a Christian writing, but on comparing it with the above data,
we are led to believe that it was drawn from a more ancient Jewish
legend.

[475] This Kaiser has seen, bibl. Theol. 1, 234.

[476] Neither do we learn what Hase (Leben Jesu § 37) supposes to be
conveyed in this narrative, namely, that as it exhibits the same union
with God that constituted the idea of the later life of Jesus, it is an
intimation that his later excellence was not the result of conversion
from youthful errors, but of the uninterrupted development of his
freedom.

[477] Ueber die Unzulässigkeit u. s. f. 1, s. 92.

[478] Ueber den Lukas, s. 39 f.

[479] Cap. v. In the Greek text also the more probable reading is καὶ
μάλιστα οὐ σοφῶς, vid. Thilo, p. 287.

[480] Hence the title of an Arabian apocryphal work (according to the
Latin translation in Thilo, 1, p. 3): historia Josephi, fabri lignarii.

[481] Vid. Thilo, Cod. Apocr. N. T. p. 368 f. not.

[482] Justin. Dial. c. Tryph. 88. According to him Jesus makes these
implements, doubtless under the direction of Joseph. In the Evang.
Thomæ c. xiii. Joseph is the workman.

[483] Cap. xxxviii. ap. Thilo, p. 112 ff.

[484] C. ix. and xiii.

[485] C. Cels. vi. 36.

[486] Fritzsche, in Marc. p. 200.

[487] Vid. Wetstein and Paulus, in loc.; Winer, Realwörterbuch, 1, s.
665. Note; Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 46 f. Note.

[488] Ut sup.: ταῦτα γὰρ τὰ τεκτονικὰ ἔργα εἰργάζετο ἐν ἀνθρώποις ὢν,
ἄροτρα καὶ ζυγά. διὰ τούτων καὶ τὰ τῆς δικαιοσύνης σύμβολα διδάσκων,
καὶ ενεργῆ βίον.

[489] Cap. xxxviii.

[490] Theodoret. H. E. iii. 23.

[491] Hase, Leben Jesu, § 70; Winer, bibl. Realw. 1, s. 665.

[492] Winer, ut sup.

[493] This is done by both the above-named theologians.

[494] Paulus, exeget. Handb. 1, a, s. 273 ff.

[495] Such, however, are the arguments of Paulus, ut sup. 275 ff.

[496] Comp. Hase, Leben Jesu, § 38; Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 45 f.

[497] Paulus, ut sup.

[498] To this Schöttgen appeals, Christus rabbinorum summus, in his
horæ, ii. p. 890 f.

[499] As e.g. Reinhard does, in his Plan Jesu.

[500] Evang. infant. arab. c. i. p. 60 f. ap. Thilo, and the passages
quoted § 40 out of the same Gospel and the Evang. Thomæ.

[501] Cap. ii. p. 278, Thilo.

[502] Cap. x. ff.

[503] E.g. Evang. Thomæ, c. iii.–v. Evang. infant. arab. c. xlvi. f.
Evang. Thomæ, c. ii. Evang. inf. arab. c. xxxvi.

[504] Yet some isolated instances occur, vid. Semler, Baumgarten’s
Glaubenslehre, 1, s. 42, Anm. 8.

[505] Orig. c. Cels. 1. 28: καὶ (λέγει) ὅτι οὗτος (ὁ Ἰησοῦς) διὰ πενίαν
εἰς Αἴγυπτον μισθαρνήσας, κᾀκεῖ δυνάμεων τίνων πειραθεὶς, ἐφ’ αἷς
Αἰγύπτιοι σεμνύνονται, ἐπανῆλθεν, ἐν ταῖς δυνάμεσι μέγα φρονῶν, καὶ δι’
αὐτὰς θεὸν αὐτὸν ἀνηγόρευσε.

[506] Sanhedr. f. cvii. 2: R. Josua f. Perachja et ‏ישו‎ Alexandrian
Aegypti profecti sunt — — ‏ישו‎ ex illo tempore magiam exercuit, et
Israëlitas ad pessima quævis perduxit. (An important anachronism, as
this Josua Ben Perachja lived about a century earlier. See Jost,
Geschichte des Isr., 2, s. 80 ff. and 142 of the Appendices.) Schabbath
f. civ. 2: Traditio est, R. Elieserem dixisse ad viros doctos: annon f.
Satdae (i.e. Jesus) magiam ex Aegypto adduxit per incisionem in carne
suâ factam? vid. Schöttgen, horæ, ii. p. 697 ff. Eisenmenger,
entdecktes Judenthum, 1, s. 149 f.

[507] E.g. Des Côtes, Schutzschrift für Jesus von Nazaret, s. 128 ff.

[508] Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 39 ff.

[509] Vid. Joseph. B. j. ii. viii. 2–13. Antiq. xviii. i. 5. Comp.
Philo, quod omnis probus liber and de vita contemplativa.

[510] This opinion is judiciously developed by Stäudlin, Geschichte der
Sittenlehre Jesu, 1, s. 570 ff.; and in a romantic manner in the
Geschichte des Grossen Propheten von Nazaret, 1. Band.

[511] H. E. ii. 16 f.

[512] Comp. Bengel, Bemerkungen über den Versuch. das Christenthum aus
dem Essäismus abzuleiten, in Flatt’s Magazin, 7, s. 126 ff.; Neander,
L. J. Chr. s. 41 ff.

[513] This is stated with exaggeration by Bahrdt, Briefe über die
Bibel, zweites Bändchen, 18ter, 20ster Brief ff. 4tes Bändchen, 49ster
Brief.

[514] Comp. Paulus ut sup. 1, a, 273 ff. Planck, Geschichte des
Christenthums in der Periode seiner ersten Einführung 1, s. 84. De
Wette, bibl. Dogm. § 212. Hase L. J. § 38. Winer, bibl. Realw. s. 677
f. Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 38 ff.

[515] Exeget. Handbuch. 1 a, s. 46. Schneckenburger agrees with him,
über den Ursprung des ersten kanon. Evang., s. 30.

[516] Vermischte Aufsätze, s. 76 ff. Compare Schneckenburger, ut sup.

[517] De Wette and Fritzsche, in loc.

[518] See Paulus, ut sup., s. 336.

[519] I here collect all the passages in Josephus relative to Lysanias,
with the parallel passages in Dion Cassius. Antiq. xiii. xvi. 3, xiv.
iii. 2, vii. 8.—Antiq. xv. iv. 1. B. j. i. xiii. 1 (Dio Cassius xlix.
32). Antiq. xv. x. 1–3. B. j. i. xx. 4 (Dio Cass. liv. 9). Antiq. xvii.
xi. 4. B. j. ii. vi. 3. Antiq. xviii. vi. 10. B. j. ii. ix. 6 (Dio
Cass. lix. 8). Antiq. xix. v. 1. B. j. ii. xi. 5. Antiq. xx. v. 2, vii.
1. B. j. ii. xii. 8.

[520] Süskind, vermischte Aufsätze, s. 15 ff. 93 ff.

[521] Tholuck thinks he has found a perfectly corresponding example in
Tacitus. When this historian, Annal. ii. 42 (A.D. 17), mentions the
death of an Archelaus, king of Cappadocia, and yet, Annal. vi. 41 (A.D.
36), cites an Archelaus, also a Cappadocian, as ruler of the Clitæ, the
same historical conjecture, says Tholuck, is necessary, viz., that
there were two Cappadocians named Archelaus. But when the same
historian, after noticing the death of a man, introduces another of the
same name, under different circumstances, it is no conjecture, but a
clear historic datum, that there were two such persons. It is quite
otherwise when, as in the case of Lysanias, two writers have each one
of the same name, but assign him distinct epochs. Here it is indeed a
conjecture to admit two successive persons; a conjecture so much the
less historical, the more improbable it is shown to be that one of the
two writers would have been silent respecting the second of the
like-named men, had such an one existed.

[522] Michaelis, Paulus, in loc. Schneckenburger, in Ullmann’s und
Umbreit’s Studien, 1833, 4 Heft, s. 1056 ff. Tholuck, s. 201 ff.

[523] For, on the authority of a single manuscript to erase, with
Schneckenburger and others, the second τετραρχοῦντος, is too evident
violence.

[524] Compare with this view, Allgem. Lit. Ztg., 1803, No. 344, s. 552:
De Wette, exeg. Handbuch, in loc.

[525] See Paulus, s. 294.

[526] See Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 62.

[527] Bengel was also of this opinion. Ordo temporum, s. 204 f. ed. 2.

[528] Antiq. xviii. v. 2.

[529] So Cludius, über die Zeit und Lebensdauer Johannis und Jesu. In
Henke’s Museum, ii. iii. 502 ff.

[530] Cludius, ut sup.

[531] Stäudlin, Geschichte der Sittenlehre Jesu, 1, s. 580. Paulus,
exeg. Handb. 1 a, s. 136. Comp. also Creuzer, Symbolik, 4, s. 413 ff.

[532] Ut sup. p. 347.

[533] Bell. jud. iii. x. 7.

[534] See Winer, bibl. Realwörterbuch, A. Wüste. Schneckenburger, über
den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen Evangeliums, s. 39.

[535] Schneckenburger, ut sup., s. 38 f.

[536] Winer, ut sup., s. 691.

[537] Paulus, ut sup., s. 301.

[538] Schneckenburger, über das Alter der Jüdischen Proselytentaufe.

[539] Sanhedr. f. xcvii. 2: R. Elieser dixit: si Israëlitæ pœnitentiam
agunt, tunc per Goëlem liberantur; sin vero, non liberantur. Schöttgen,
horæ, 2, p. 780 ff.

[540] Antiq. xviii. v. 2.

[541] Thus Paulus, ut sup., s. 314 and 361, Anm.

[542] Fragment von dem Zwecke Jesu und seiner Jünger, herausgegeben von
Lessing, s. 133 ff.

[543] So thinks Semler in his answer to the above Fragments, in loc.;
so think most of the moderns; Plank, Geschichte des Christenthums in
der Periode seiner Einführung, 1, K. 7. Winer, bibl. Realwörterbuch, 1,
s. 691.

[544] Let the reader judge for himself whether Neander’s arguments be
not forced: “Even if the Baptist could have expected” (say rather must
necessarily have known) “from the circumstances of the birth of Jesus,
that he was the Messiah, the divine witness in his own mind would
eclipse all external testimony, and compared with this divine
illumination, all previous knowledge would seem ignorance.” p. 68.

[545] Lücke, Commentar zum Evang. Johannis 1, s. 362.

[546] Osiander, in despair, answers, that the heavenly communications
themselves might contain directions for—keeping the two youths apart!
s. 127.

[547] Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 117 f. Paulus, ut sup., s. 366.

[548] Comp. the Fragmentist, ut sup.

[549] Hæres, xxx. 13: Καὶ ὡς ἀνῆλθεν ἀπὸ τοῦ ὕδατος, ἡνοίγησαν οἱ
οὐρανοὶ, καὶ εἶδε τὸ πνεῦμα τοῦ Θεοῦ τὸ ἅγιον ἐν εἴδει περιστερᾶς
κ.τ.λ. καὶ φωνὴ ἐγένετο κ.τ.λ. καὶ εὐθὺς περιέλαμψε τὸν τόπον φῶς μέγα·
ὃν ἰδών, φησὶν, ὁ Ἰωάννης λέγει αὐτῷ· σύ τὶς εἶ, Κύριε; καὶ πάλιν φωνὴ
κ.τ.λ. καὶ τότε, φησὶν, ὁ Ἰωάννης παραπεσὼν αὐτῷ ἔλεγε· δέομαι σοῦ
Κύριε, σύ με βάπτισον. And when he came from the water, the heavens
were opened, and he saw the holy spirit of God in the form of a dove,
etc., and a voice was heard, etc., and immediately a great light
illuminated the place; seeing which, John said to him, Who art thou,
Lord? and again a voice, etc. And then, John falling at his feet, said
to him, I beseech thee, Lord, baptize me.

[550] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen
Evangeliums, s. 121 f.; Lücke, Comm. z. Ev. Joh., 1, s. 361. Usteri,
über den Täufer Johannes u. s. w., Studien, 2, 3. s. 446.

[551] Tertull. adv. Marcion, iv. 18. Comp. Bengel, historico-exegetical
remarks in Matt. xi. 2–19, in his Archiv. 1, iii. p. 754 ff.

[552] See Paulus, Kuinöl, in loc. Bengel, ut sup., p. 763.

[553] Calvin, Comm. in harm. ex. Matth., Marc. et Luc. in loc.

[554] We agree with Schleiermacher, (über den Lukas, s. 106 f.) in thus
designating the narrative of the third evangelist, first, on account of
the idle repetition of the Baptist’s words, ver. 20; secondly, on
account of the mistake in ver. 18 and 21, of which we shall presently
treat, and to which ver. 29, 30, seem to betray a similar one.

[555] Compare Calvin in loc. and Bengel ut sup., s. 753 ff.

[556] Thus most recent commentators: Paulus, Kuinöl, Bengel, Hase,
Theile, and even Fritzsche.

[557] This difficulty occurred to Bengel also, ut sup., p. 769.

[558] The gospel writers, after what they had narrated of the relations
between Jesus and the Baptist, of course understood the question to
express doubt, whence probably v. 6 (Matt.) and v. 23 (Luke) came in
this connection. Supposing these passages authentic, they suggest
another conjecture; viz. that Jesus spoke in the foregoing verses of
spiritual miracles, and that the Baptist was perplexed by the absence
of corporeal ones. The ἀκούσας τὰ ἔργα τ. Χ. must then be set down to
the writer’s misapprehension of the expressions of Jesus.

[559] Gabler and Paulus.

[560] De Wette, de morte Christi expiatoria, in his Opusc. theol., s.
77 ff. Lücke, Comm. zum Ev. Joh. 1, s. 347 ff. Winer, bibl.
Realwörterb. 1, s. 693, Anm.

[561] Gabler and Paulus. De Wette.

[562] De Wette, ut sup., p. 76.

[563] Paulus, Leben Jesu, 2 a, die Übers., s. 29. 31.

[564] Tholuck and Lücke, in loc.

[565] Lücke, ut sup.

[566] See Bertholdt, Christologia Judæorum Jesu apostolorumque ætate, §
23–25.

[567] Probabilia, p. 41.

[568] See Gfrörer, Philo und die Alexandr. Theosophie, part ii. p. 180.

[569] Lücke, ut sup., p. 500.

[570] Compare especially:

Joh. iii. 11 (Jesus to Nicodemus): Joh. iii. 32 (the Baptist): καὶ
ἀμὴν, ἀμὴν, λέγω σοι, ὅτι ὃ οἴδαμεν, ὃ ἑώρακε καὶ ἤκουσε, τοῦτο
λαλοῦμεν, καὶ ὃ ἑωράκαμεν, μαρτυρεῖ· καὶ τὴν μαρτυρίαν
μαρτυροῦμεν· καὶ τὴν μαρτυρίαν ἡμῶν αὐτοῦ οὐδεὶς λαμβάνει.
οὐ λαμβάνετε.

V. 18: ὁ πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν οὐ V. 36: ὁ πιστεύων εἰς τὸν υἱὸν
κρίνεται· ὁ δὲ μὴ πιστεύων, ἤδη ἔχει ζωὴν αἰώνιον· ὁ δὲ ἀπειθῶν
κέκριται, ὅτι μὴ πεπίστευκεν εἰς το τῷ υἱῷ, οὐκ ὄψεται ζωὴν, ἀλλ’ ἡ
ὄνομα τοῦ μονογενοῦς υἱοῦ τοῦ Θεοῦ. ὀργὴ τοῦ Θεοῦ μένει ἐπ’ αὐτόν.

Comp. also the words of the Baptist v. 31, with Joh. iii. 6. 12 f.
viii. 23; v. 32 with viii. 26; v. 33 with vi. 27; v. 34 with xii. 49,
50; v. 35 with v. 22, 27, x. 28 f. xvii. 2.

[571] Bibl. Comm. 2, p. 105.

[572] Paulus, Olshausen, in loc.

[573] E.g. here, v. 32, it is said: τὴν μαρτυρίαν αὐτοῦ οὐδεὶς
λαμβάνει, but in the Prolog. v. 11: καὶ οἱ ἴδιοι αὐτὸν οὐ παρέλαβον.
Comp. Lücke, s. 501.

[574] Ut sup.

[575] De Wette, de morte Christi expiatoria, in s. Opusc. theol. p. 81;
biblische Dogmatik, § 209; Winer, bibl. Realwörterbuch 1, s. 692.

[576] Neander, p. 75. This author erroneously supposes that there is an
indication of the Baptist having directed his disciples to Jesus in
Acts xviii. 25, where it is said of Apollos: ἐδίδασκεν ἀκριβῶς τὰ περὶ
τοῦ Κυρίου, ἐπιστάμενος τὸ βάπτισμα Ἰωάννου. For on comparing the
following chapter, we find that Paul had to teach the disciples of
John, that by the ερχόμενος announced by their master, they were to
understand Jesus; whence it is clear that the things of the Lord
expounded by Apollos, consisted only in the messianic doctrine,
purified by John into an expectation of one who was to come, and that
the more accurate instruction which he received from the Christians,
Aquila and Priscilla, was the doctrine of its fulfilment in the person
of Jesus.

[577] Gesenius, Probeheft der Ersch und Gruber’schen Encyclopädie, d.
A. Zabier.

[578] Bretschneider, Probab., s. 46 f.; comp. Lücke, s. 493 f.; De
Wette, Opusc a. a. O.

[579] Greiling, Leben Jesu von Nazaret, s. 132 f.

[580]

2 Sam. iii. 1. John iii. 30.

‏וְדָוִד הֹלֵךְ וְחָזֵק‎ ἐκεῖνον δεῖ αὐξάνειν.
‏וּבֵית שָׁאוּל הֹלְכִם וְדַלּים :‏‎ ἐμὲ δὲ ἐλαττοῦσθαι.

[581] Schulz, die Lehre vom Abendmahl, s. 145. Winer, Realwörterbuch,
1, s. 693.

[582] Commentar, s. 380.

[583] The passage above quoted from the Acts gives us also some
explanation, why the fourth Evangelist of all others should be
solicitous to place the Baptist in a more favourable relation to Jesus,
than history allows us to conceive. According to v. 1 ff. there were
persons in Ephesus who knew only of John’s baptism, and were therefore
rebaptized by the Apostle Paul in the name of Jesus. Now an old
tradition represents the fourth gospel to have been written in Ephesus
(Iræneus adv. hær. iii. 1). If we accept this (and it is certainly
correct in assigning a Greek locality for the composition of this
Gospel), and presuppose, in accordance with the intimation in the Acts,
that Ephesus was the seat of a number of the Baptist’s followers, all
of whom Paul could hardly have converted; the endeavour to draw them
over to Jesus would explain the remarkable stress laid by the fourth
Evangelist on the μαρτυρία Ἰωάννου. Storr has very judiciously remarked
and discussed this, über den Zweck der Evangelischen Geschichte und der
Briefe Johannis, s. 5 ff. 24 f. Compare Hug, Einleitung in das N. T.,
s. 190 3te Ausg.

[584] Antiq. xviii. v. 2.

[585] Ueber den Lukas, s. 109.

[586] Ibid. p. 106.

[587] Ueber den Ursprung u. s. w. s. 79.

[588] The expression οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι is thus interpreted by the most
learned exegetists. Comp. Paulus, Lücke, Tholuck in loc.

[589] Lücke, Commentar, s. 327.

[590] Lücke, s. 339.

[591] Whether the dialogue between John and his complaining disciples
(John iii. 25 ff.) be likewise a transmutation of the corresponding
scene, Matt. ix. 14 f., as Bretschneider seeks to show, must remain
uncertain. Probab., p. 66 ff.

[592] That Jesus, as many suppose, assigns a low rank to the Baptist,
because the latter thought of introducing the new order of things by
external violence, is not to be detected in the gospels.

[593] For a different explanation see Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 48
ff.

[594] Antiq. xviii. v. 2.

[595] This former husband of Herodias is named by the Evangelists,
Philip, by Josephus, Herod. He was the son of the high priest’s
daughter, Mariamne, and lived as a private person. V. Antiq. xv. ix. 3;
xviii. v. 1. 4. B. j. i. xxix. 2, xxx. 7.

[596] Antiq. xviii. v. 4.

[597] Hase, Leben Jesu, s. 88.

[598] Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth. in loc. Winer, bibl. Realwörterb. 1,
s. 694.

[599] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, a, s. 361; Schleiermacher, über den
Lukas, s. 109.

[600] Vergl. Fritzsche, Comm. in Marc., p. 225.

[601] E.g. Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen
Evangeliums, s. 86 f. That the ἐλυπήθη of Matthew, v. 9, is not
contradictory to his own narrative, see Fritzsche, in loc.

[602] S. Winer, b. Realwörterb. d. A. Herodes Antipas.

[603] Fritzsche, Commentar. in Matt., p. 491.

[604] Antiq. xviii. v. 1.

[605] Dial. c. Tryph. 8, s. 110. der Mauriner Ausg.

[606] Hess. Geschichte Jesu, 1 Bd. s. 118.

[607] Paulus, ut sup., s. 362 ff. 337. Hase, L. J., s. 48, erste Ausg.

[608] Hieron. adv. Pelagian. iii. 2: In Evangelio juxta Hebræos—narrat
historia: Ecce mater Domini et fratres ejus dicebant ei: Joannes
baptista baptizat in remissionem peccatorum; eamus et baptizemur ab eo.
Dixit autem eis: quid peccavi ut vadam et baptizer ab eo? nisi forte
hoc ipsum quod dixi, ignorantia est.

[609] The author of the Tractatus de non iterando baptismo in Cyprian’s
works, Rigalt., p. 139, says (the passage is also found in Fabric. Cod.
apocr. N.T., s. 799 f.): Est—liber, qui inscribitur Pauli prædicatio.
In quo libro, contra omnes scripturas et de peccato proprio confitentem
invenies Christum, qui solus omnino nihil deliquit, et ad accipiendum
Joannis baptisma pæne invitum â matre suâ Mariâ esse compulsum.

[610] Justin. Mart. dial. c. Tryph. 88: κατελθόντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ἐπὶ τὸ
ὕδωρ, καὶ πῦρ ἀνήφθη ἐν τῷ Ἰορδάνη, κ.τ.λ.. Epiphan. hæres. 30, 13
(after the heavenly voice): καὶ εὐθὺς περιέλαμψε τὸν τόπον φῶς μέγα.

[611] See Usteri, über den Täufer Johannes, die Taufe und Versuchung
Christi, in the theolog. Studien und Kritiken, 2 Bd. 3 Heft, s. 442
ff., and Bleek, in the same periodical, 1833, 2, s. 428 ff.

[612] Bauer, hebr. Mythologie, 2 s. 225 f. Comp. Gratz, Comm. zum
Evang. Matt. i. s. 172 ff.

[613] These are Theodore’s words, in Münter’s Fragmenta patr. græc.
Fasc. 1, s. 142. Orig. c. Cels. i. 48. Basil. M. in Suicer’s Thesaurus,
2, p. 1479.

[614] As even Lücke confesses, Comm. zum Evang. Joh. i., s. 370, and
Bleek, ut sup., s. 437.

[615] Comp. Eusebius, H. E. vi. 29.

[616] See Paulus, Bauer, Kuinöl, Hase and Theile.

[617] De Wette, bibl. Dogmatik, § 208. Anm. 6, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 34
f. 1, 3, s. 29 f. Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 58 f. Usteri,
Bleek, Hase, Kern, Neander.

[618] According to Bava Mezia, f. lix. 1 (in Wetstein, p. 427), R.
Elieser appealed to a heavenly sign, in proof that he had tradition in
his favour: tum personuit echo cœlestis: quid vobis cum R. Eliesere?
nam ubivis secundum illum obtinet traditio.

[619] Dial. c. Tryph. 88.

[620] Hæres. xxx. 13.

[621] Pædagog. i. 6.

[622] De consens. Evangg. ii. 14.

[623] S. Wetstein in loc. des Lukas, and De Wette, Einl. in das N. T.,
s. 100.

[624] S. Rosenmüller’s Schol. in Psalm ii.

[625] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 57.

[626] Tibull. Carm. L. 1, eleg. 8, v. 17 f. See the remark of
Broeckhuis on this passage; Creuzer, Symbolik, ii. s. 70 f.; Paulus,
exeg. Handb. 1, a, s. 369.

[627] Creuzer, Symbolik, ii. s. 80.

[628] Chagiga c. ii.: Spiritus Dei ferebatur super aquas, sicut
columba, quæ fertur super pullos suos nec tangit illos. Ir Gibborim ad
Genes. 1, 2, ap. Schöttgen, horæ, i. p. 9.

[629] Targum Koheleth, ii. 12, vox turturis is interpreted as vox
spiritus sancti. To regard this, with Lücke, as an arbitrary
interpretation, seems itself like arbitrariness, in the face of the
above data.

[630] Bereschith rabba, s. 2, f. 4, 4, ad Genes. T. 2 (ap. Schöttgen ut
sup.): intelligitur spiritus regis Messiæ, de quo dicitur, Jes. xi. 2:
et quiescet super illum spiritus Domini.

[631] Sohar. Numer. f. 68. col. 271 f. (in Schöttgen, horæ, 2, p. 537
f.). The purport of this passage rests on the following cabalistic
conclusion: If David, according to Ps. lii. 10, is the olive tree; the
Messiah, a scion of David, is the olive leaf: and since it is said of
Noah’s dove, Gen. viii. 11, that it carried an olive leaf in its mouth;
the Messiah will be ushered into the world by a dove.—Even Christian
interpreters have compared the dove at the baptism of Jesus to the
Noachian one; see Suicer, Thesaurus, 2, Art. περιστερὰ, p. 688. It has
been customary to cite in this connection, that the Samaritans paid
divine honours to a dove under the name of Achima, on Mount Gerizim;
but this is a Jewish accusation, grounded on a wilful misconstruction.
See Stäudlin’s and Tzschirner’s Archiv. für K. G. 1, 3, s. 66. Lücke,
1, s. 367.

[632] See Fritzsche, Comm. in Matt., p. 148.

[633] Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 120.

[634] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 175 f.

[635] Comm. zum Evang. Joh. 1, s. 378 f.

[636] From the orthodox point of view, it cannot be consistently said,
with Hoffmann (p. 301), that for the conviction of his messiahship and
the maintenance of the right position, amid so many temptations and
adverse circumstances, an internally wrought certainty did not suffice
Jesus, and external confirmation by a fact was requisite.

[637] Epiphan. hæres. xxx. 14: ἐπειδὴ γὰρ βούλονται τὸν μὲν Ἰησοῦν
ὄντως ανθρώπον εἶναι, Χριστὸν δὲ ὲν αὐτῷ γεγενῆσθαι τὸν ἐν εἴδει
περιστερᾶς καταβεβηκότα, κ.τ.λ.:—They maintain that Jesus was really
man, but that that which descended from heaven in the form of a dove
became Christ in him.

[638] Epiphan. hæres. xxviii. 1.

[639] Epiphan. hæres. xxx. 13:—περιστερᾶς κατελθούσης καὶ εἰσελθούσης
εἰς αὐτὸν:—of a dove descending and entering into him.

[640] See the passage above, § 48, note 7.

[641] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen Evang.,
s. 39.

[642] Comm. z. Ev. Joh. 1, s. 344.

[643] Comp. de Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 27.

[644] Compare Fritzsche, Comm. in Marc, s. 23 De Wette, exeg. Handb.,
1, 2, s. 33.

[645] Kuinöl, Comm. in Luc., s. 379.

[646] Lightfoot, horæ, p. 243.

[647] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung des ersten kan. Evang., s. 46.

[648] Ibid.

[649] Thus Euthymius, Kuinöl, and others.

[650] Fritzsche, in loc.

[651] Beitrag zur Erklärung der Versuchungsgeschichte, in Ullmann’s and
Umbreit’s Studien, 1834, 4, s. 789.

[652] Ueber den Lukas, s. 56.

[653] Compare Schneckenburger, ut sup., s. 46 f.

[654] Exegetische Beiträge, 1, s. 277 ff.

[655] Comm. in Matth. s. 172 ff.

[656] In the Essay quoted, s. 768.

[657] Thus, e.g., Kuinöl, Comm. in Matth., p. 84. Comp. Gratz, Comm.
zum Matth., 1, s. 229. Hoffmann, p. 315.

[658] Usteri, über den Täufer Johannes, die Taufe und Versuchung
Christi. In den theol. Studien und Kritiken, zweiten Jahrgangs (1829),
drittes Heft, s. 450. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 38.

[659] De Wette, bibl. Dogmatik, § 171. Gramberg, Grundzüge einer
Engellehre des A. T., § 5, in Winer’s Zeitschrift f. wissenschaftliche
Theologie, 1 Bd. s. 182 f.

[660] Glaubenslehre, 1, ss. 44, 45, der zweiten Ausg.

[661] Schmidt, exeg. Beiträge. Kuinöl, in Matt.

[662] In a fragment of Theodore of Mopsuestia in Münter’s Fragm. Patr.
Græc. Fasc. 1, p. 99 f.

[663] Paulus.

[664] Hoffmann thinks that the devil, in his second temptation,
designedly chose so startling an example as the leap from the temple
roof, the essential aim of the temptation being to induce Jesus to a
false use of his miraculous power and consciousness of a divine nature.
But this evasion leaves the matter where it was, for there is the same
absurdity in choosing unfit examples as unfit temptations.

[665] Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s. 124.

[666] See the author of the discourse de jejunio et tentationibus
Christi, among Cyprian’s works.

[667] Compare Joseph. B. J. v. v. 6, vi. v. 1. Fritzsche, in Matth., s.
164. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 40.

[668] The one proposed by Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 90; the other by
Fritzsche, p. 168.

[669] Theodore of Mopsuestia, ut sup. p. 107, maintained against Julian
that the devil had made the image of a mountain, φαντασίαν ὄρους τὸν
διάβολον πεποιηκέναι, and according to the author of the discourse,
already cited, de jejunio et tentationibus Christi, the first
temptation it is true passed localiter in deserto, but Jesus only went
to the temple and the mountain as Ezekiel did from Chaboras to
Jerusalem—that is, in spiritu.

[670] Paulus, s. 379.

[671] See for the former, H. Farmer, Gratz, Comm. zum Ev. Matth. 1, s.
217; for the latter, Olshausen in loc., and Hoffmann (s. 326 f.) if I
rightly apprehend him.

[672] Paulus, s. 377 ff.

[673] Fritzsche, in Matth. 155 f. Usteri, Beitrag zur Erklärung der
Versuchungsgeschichte, s. 774 f.

[674] Ullmann, über die Unsündlichkeit Jesu, in his Studien, 1, 1, s.
56. Usteri, ut sup., s. 775.

[675] Usteri, s. 776.

[676] 1 Bd. s. 512 ff.

[677] The former in Henke’s n. Magazin 4, 2, s. 352; the latter in the
natürlichen Geschichte, 1, s. 591 ff.

[678] This view is held by Ullmann, Hase, and Neander.

[679] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 54. Usteri, ut sup., s. 777.

[680] If something really experienced by Jesus is supposed as the germ
of the parable, this opinion is virtually the same as the preceding.

[681] J. E. C. Schmidt, in seiner Bibliothek, 1, 1, s. 60 f.
Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 54 f. Usteri, über den Täufer
Johannes, die Taufe und Versuchung Christi, in den theol. Studien, 2,
3, s. 456 ff.

[682] K. Ch. L. Schmidt, exeg. Beiträge, 1, s. 339.

[683] Hasert, Bemerkungen über die Ansichten Ullmann’s und Usteri’s von
der Versuchungsgesch., Studien, 3, 1, s. 74 f.

[684] Hasert, ut sup., s. 76.

[685] Zur Biographie Jesu, § 23.

[686] See Zech. iii. 1, where Satan resists the high priest standing
before the angel of the Lord; farther Vajikra rabba, f. cli. 1 (in
Bertholdt, Christol. Jud., p. 183), where, according to Rabbi Jochanan,
Jehovah said to ‏מלאך המות‎ (i.e. to Satan, comp. Heb. ii. 14 and
Lightfoot, horæ, p. 1088): Feci quidem te κοσμοκράτορα, at vero cum
populo fœderis negotium nulla in re tibi est.

[687] See the passages quoted by Fabricius in Cod. pseudepigr. V. T.,
p. 395, from Gemara Sanhedrin.

[688] The same, p. 396. As Abraham went out to sacrifice his son in
obedience to Jehovah, antevertit eum Satanas in via, et tali colloquio
cum ipso habito a proposito avertere eum conatus est, etc. Schemoth, R.
41 (ap. Wetstein in loc. Matth.): Cum Moses in altum adscenderet, dixit
Israëli: post dies XL hora sexta redibo. Cum autem XL illi dies elapsi
essent, venit Satanas, et turbavit mundum, dixitque: ubi est Moses,
magister vester? mortuus est. It is worthy of remark that here also the
temptation takes place after the lapse of 40 days.

[689] Thus Fritzsche, in Matt. p. 173. His very title is striking, p.
154: Quod in vulgari Judæorum opinione erat, fore, ut Satanas
salutaribus Messiæ consiliis omni modo, sed sine effectu tamen, nocere
studeret, id ipsum Jesu Messiæ accidit. Nam quum is ad exemplum
illustrium majorum quadraginta dierum in deserto loco egisset jejunium,
Satanas eum convenit, protervisque atque impiis— —consiliis ad
impietatem deducere frustra conatus est.

[690] Schöttgen, horæ, ii. 538, adduces from Fini Flagellum Judæorum,
iii. 35, a passage of Pesikta: Ait Satan: Domine, permitte me tentare
Messiam et ejus generationem? Cui inquit Deus: Non haberes ullam
adversus eum potestatem. Satanas iterum ait: Sine me, quia potestatem
habeo. Respondit Deus: Si in hoc diutius perseverabis, Satan, potius
(te) de mundo perdam quam aliquam animam generationis Messiæ perdi
permittam. This passage at least proves that a temptation of the
Messiah undertaken by the devil, was not foreign to the circle of
Jewish ideas. Although the author of the above quotation represents the
demand of Satan to have been denied, others, so soon as the imagination
was once excited, would be sure to allow its completion.

[691] Deut. viii. 2 (LXX.) the people are thus addressed: μνησθήσῃ
πᾶσαν τὴν ὁδὸν, ἥν ἤγαγέ σε Κύριος ὁ Θεός σου τοῦτο τεσσαρακοστὸν ἔτος
ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ, ὅπως κακώσῃ σε καὶ πεῖρασῃ σε καὶ διαγνωσθῇ τὰ ἐν τῇ
καρδίᾳ σου, εἰ φυλάξῃ τὰς ἐντολάς αὐτοῦ ἢ οὔ.

[692] Ziegler, in Gabler’s n. theol. Journ., 5, 201; Theile, zur Biogr.
J., § 23.

[693] See Wetstein, s. 270; De Wette, Kritik der mos. Geschichte, s.
245; the same in Daub’s and Creuzer’s Studien, 3, s. 245; v. Bohlen,
Genesis, s. 63 f.

[694] Deut. viii. 3, καὶ ἐκάκωσέ σε καὶ ἐλιμανχόνησε σε, κ.τ.λ.

[695] S. Fabricius, Cod. pseudepigr. V. T., p. 398 ff.

[696] Gemara Sanh., as in note 3. The colloquy between Abraham and
Satan is thus continued:

1. Satanas: Annon tentare te (Deum) in tali re ægre feras? Ecce
erudiebas multos—labantem erigebant verba tua—quum nunc advenit ad te
(Deus taliter te tentans) nonne ægre ferres (Job iv. 2–5)?

Cui resp. Abraham: Ego in integritate mea ambulo (Ps. xxvi. 11).

2. Satanas: Annon timor tuus, spes tua (Job iv. 6)?

Abraham: Recordare quæso, quis est insons, qui perierit (v. 7)?

3. Quare, quum videret Satanas, se nihil proficere, nec Abrahamum sibi
obedire, dixit ad illum: et ad me verbum furtim ablatum est (v. 12),
audivi—pecus futurum esse pro holocausto (Gen. xxii. 7), non autem
Isaacum.

Cui resp. Abraham: Hæc est pæna mendacis, ut etiam cum vera loquitur,
fides ei non habeatur.

I am far from maintaining that this rabbinical passage was the model of
our history of the temptation; but since it is impossible to prove, on
the other side, that such narratives were only imitations of the New
Testament ones, the supposed independent formation of stories so
similar shows plainly enough the ease with which they sprang out of the
given premises.

[697] Note 1.

[698] Bertholdt, Christolog. Judæorum Jesu ætate, § 36, not. 1 and 2;
Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth., s. 169 f.

[699] Compare with the above statement the deductions of Schmidt,
Fritzsche, and Usteri, as given § 54, notes 1–3, and of De Wette, exeg.
Handbuch, 1, 1, s. 41 ff.

[700] Fritzsche, p. 591.

[701] Olshausen, bibl. Comm., 1, s. 189 f.

[702] Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 38 f.; über den Ursprung u. s. f.,
s. 7 f.

[703] De Wette, Einleitung in das N. T., § 98 u. 106.

[704] Paulus, exeg. Handb., 1, a, s. 39.

[705] Guerike, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das N. T., s. 33; Tholuck,
Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 303.

[706] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung u. s. w., s. 9.

[707] Kern, über den Ursprung des Evang. Matthäi, in der Tübinger
Zeitschrift, 1834, 2tes Heft, s. 198 ff. Comp. Hug, Einleit. in d. N.
T., 2, s. 205 ff. (3te Ausg.).

[708] Tholuck, Comm. zum Evang. Joh., p. 207.

[709] Comp. Lücke, ut sup., s. 546.

[710] De Wette, Einleitung in das N. T., § 98.

[711] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 7.; Beiträge u.
s. f., s. 38 ff.

[712] Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 207. Comp. Gabler’s Treatise on the
Resurrection of Lazarus, in his Journal für auserlesene theol.
Literatur, 3, 2.

[713] Hug, Einleit. in das N. T., 2, s. 210.

[714] Hug, ut supra, s. 211. f.

[715] Compare Weisse, die evang. Geschichte 1, s. 29 ff.

[716] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, 6, s. 463.

[717] This Schleiermacher has made evident, über den Lukas, s. 63.

[718] Sieffert, über den Ursprung des ersten kanonischen Evangeliums,
s. 89.

[719] Olshausen, Fritzsche, in loc. Hase, Leben Jesu, § 62. Sieffert,
ut supra.

[720] Sieffert, ut supra.

[721] What these mighty works were can only be made clear when we come
to the chapter on the Miracles.

[722] Schleiermacher, ut supra, s. 64.

[723] Schleiermacher, ut supra, s. 63 f.

[724] Ordo temporum, p. 220 ff. ed. 2.

[725] Paulus, ut supra, 1, b, s. 407.

[726] Paulus, ut supra. Lightfoot, horæ, p. 765.

[727] Bibl. Comm. 1, 470.

[728] Hase, Leben Jesu, § 62.

[729] Ueber den Lukas, s. 93.

[730] Ut supra, 479; comp. 2, p. 214.

[731] Adv. Marcion, iv. 8.

[732] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 788 f.

[733] Lücke, Comm. zum Evang. Joh., 2, s. 6.

[734] Bengel, ordo temporum, p. 219 f.

[735] Hug, Einleit. in das N. T. 2, s. 229 ff.

[736] Paulus, Comm. zum Ev. Joh., s. 279 f. Exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 784
ff.

[737] Summaries of the different opinions are given by Hase, L. J., §
53; and by Lücke, Comm. z. Ev. Joh., 2, s. 2 ff.

[738] Exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 785.

[739] See Storr, über den Zweck der evang. Gesch. und der Briefe
Johannis, s. 330.

[740] Winer, b. Realw. 1, s. 666.

[741] Clem. Alex. Stromat. 1, p. 174, Würzb. ed., 340 Sylburg; Orig. de
principp. iv. 5, comp. homil. in Luc. 32.

[742] Iren. adv. hær. i. 1, 5. ii. 35, 38, on the Valentinians. Clem.
hom. xvii. 19.

[743] Iren. ii. xxii. 5 f. Comp. Credner, Einl. in das N. T. 1, s. 215.

[744] Lightfoot and Tholuck in loc.

[745] Joseph. Antiq. xviii. iv. 2.

[746] Sueton. Tiber. c. lxxiii. Joseph. Antiq. xviii. vi. 10.

[747] Comp. Paulus, Leben Jesu, 1, a, 214 f.

[748] See especially the labours of Paulus in the Chronological
Excursus of his Commentary and his exegetical Manual; of Hug, in the
Einl. z. N. T. 2, s. 2, 233 ff.; and others, given by Winer in his
bibl. Realwörterbuch 1, s. 667.

[749] Winer, ut sup.; comp. Kaiser, biblische Theologie, 1, s. 254.
Anm.; die Abhandlung über die verschiedenen Rücksichten u. s. w., in
Bertholdt’s krit. Journal, 5, s. 239.

[750] Olshausen 1, s. 24 ff.

[751] Schneckenburger’s Beiträge, s. 25 ff.

[752] All that relates to the idea of the Messiah as suffering, dying,
and rising again, is here omitted, and reserved for the history of the
Passion.

[753] Paulus, exeget. Handb. 1, 6, s. 465; Fritzsche, in Matth., p.
320.

[754] Thus after Herder, Köster e.g. in Immanuel, s. 265.

[755] Lücke, Comm. zum Joh., 1, s. 397 f.

[756] e.g. Grotius.

[757] Abenesra, see Hävernick, ut sup. Comm. zum Daniel, s. 244.

[758] Schöttgen, horæ, ii. s. 63, 73; Hävernick, ut sup., s. 243 f.

[759] See for the most important opinions, Hävernick, ut sup., s. 242
f.

[760] Let the reader bear in mind the designation of David’s elegy, 2
Sam. i. 17 ff. as ‏קֶשֶׁת‎ and the denomination of the Messiah as ‏צֶמַח‎.
Had Schleiermacher considered the nature of Jewish appellatives, he
would not have called the reference of υἰὸς τοῦ ἀ. to the passage in
Daniel, a strange idea. (Glaubensl., § 99, s. 99, Anm.)

[761] That the expression οἱ ἑν τῷ πλοίῷ includes more than the
disciples, vid. Fritzsche, in loc.

[762] There is a difficulty involved in the form of the question, put
by Jesus to his disciples: τίνα με λέγουσιν οἱ ἄνθρωποι εἶναι, τον υἱὸν
τοῦ ἀνθρώπου; i.e. what opinion have the people of me, the Messiah?
This, when compared with the sequel, seems a premature disclosure;
hence expositors have variously endeavoured to explain away its primâ
facie meaning. Some (e.g. Beza) understand the subordinate clause, not
as a declaration of Jesus concerning his own person, but as a closer
limitation of the question: For whom do the people take me? for the
Messiah? But this would be a leading question, which, as Fritzsche well
observes, would indicate an eagerness for the messianic title, not
elsewhere discernible in Jesus. Others, therefore, (as Paulus and
Fritzsche,) give the expression υἱὸς τ. ἀ. a general signification, and
interpret the question thus: Whom do men say that I, the individual
addressing you, am? But this explanation has been already refuted in
the foregoing section. If, then, we reject the opinion that the υἱὸς τ.
ἀ. is an addition which the exuberant faith of the writer was apt to
suggest even in an infelicitous connexion, we are restricted to De
Wette’s view (exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 86 f.), namely, that the
expression, ὁ υἱὸς τ. ἀ. was indeed an appellation of the Messiah, but
an indirect one, so that it might convey that meaning, as an allusion
to Daniel, to Jesus and those already aware of his Messiahship, while
to others it was merely the equivalent of, this man.

[763] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 28 f.

[764] This distinction of two periods in the public life of Jesus is
also made by Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth., s. 213. 536, and
Schneckenburger ut sup.

[765] Schneckenburger, ut sup., s. 29.

[766] Fritzsche, in Matth. p. 309, comp. 352. Olshausen, s. 265.

[767] Fritzsche, p. 352. Olshausen, ut sup.

[768] The opposite view is held by the Fragmentist, who thinks the
prohibition was intended to stimulate the popular eagerness.

[769] Fritzsche, s. 309.

[770] Comp. Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 74.

[771] Comp. the excellent treatise of Paulus on the following question
in the Einl. zum Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 28 ff.

[772] Even if a different reading be adopted for the parallel passage
in Matthew (xix. 16 f.), it must remain questionable whether his
statement deserves the preference to that of the two other Evangelists.

[773] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 130, 253.

[774] Olshausen, ut sup. 1, s. 108 ff.

[775] Bertholdt, Christol. Judæor. §§ 8. 35, 42.

[776] Bretschneider, Probab., p. 59.

[777] Porphyr. Vita Pythag., 26 f. Jamblich. 14, 63. Diog. Laert. viii.
4 f. 14. Baur, Apollonius von Tyana, pp. 64 f. 98 f. 185 f.

[778] See a notification and exposition of the passages in Lücke, Comm.
zum Ev. Joh., 1, s. 211 ff.

[779] Winer, de Onkeloso, p. 10. Comp. De Wette, Einleit. in das A. T.,
§ 58.

[780] Bertholdt, Christol. Judæor., §§ 23–25. Comp. Lücke ut sup., s.
244, note.

[781] Schöttgen, ii. s. 6 f.

[782] Targ. Jes. xvi 1: Iste (Messias) in deserto fuit rupes ecclesiæ
Zionis. In Bertholdt, ut sup. p. 145.

[783] Sohar chadasch f. lxxxii. 4, ap. Schöttgen, ii. s. 440.

[784] Nezach Israël c. xxxv. f. xlviii. 1. Schmidt, Bibl. für Kritik u.
Exegese, 1, s. 38: ‏משׂיח מפני תוהו‎. Sohar Levit. f. xiv. 56.
Schöttgen, ii. s. 436: Septem (lumina condita sunt, antequam mundus
conderetur), nimirum ... et lumen Messiæ. Here we have the
pre-existence of the Messiah represented as a real one: for a more
ideal conception of it, see Bereschith Rabba, sect. 1, f. iii. 3
(Schöttgen).

[785] Von dem Zweck Jesu und seiner Jünger, s. 108–157.

[786] Comp. Fritzsche, in Matth., s. 114.

[787] Kuinöl, Comm. in Matt., p. 518. Olshausen also, p. 744,
understands the discourse symbolically, though he attaches to it a
different meaning.

[788] Paulus, exeget. Handb. 2, s. 613 f.

[789] Liebe, in Winer’s exeg. Studien, 1, 59 ff.

[790] So Reinhard, über den Plan, welchen der Stifter der christlichen
Religion zum Besten der Menschheit entwarf, s. 57 ff. (4te Aufl.).

[791] Paulus, Leben Jesu 1, b, s. 85, 94, 106 ff.; Venturini, 2, s. 310
f.; Hase, Leben Jesu 1 ed. §§ 68, 84. Hase has modified this opinion in
his 2nd edition, §§ 49, 50 (comp. theol. Streitschrift, 1, s. 61 ff.),
though with apparent reluctance, and he now maintains that Jesus had
risen above the political notion of the messianic kingdom before his
public appearance.

[792] Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 606 f.

[793] De Wette, Bibl. Dogm., § 216.

[794] Bertholdt, Christol. Judæor., §§ 30 ff.

[795] Ibid., § 39.

[796] E.g. Reinhard, Plan Jesu, s. 14 ff.

[797] For an exaggeration in the Ebionite Gospel, vid. Epiphanius,
hæres. xxx. 16.

[798] Bertholdt, ut sup. § 31.

[799] This is done the most concisely in the Wolfenbüttel Fragments,
von dem Zweck u. s. f., s. 66 ff.

[800] Especially Fritzsche, in Matt., s. 214 ff.

[801] Winer, bibl. Realwörterb. 2, s. 406 ff.

[802] Comp. Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 273.

[803] Winer, b. Realw., 1 Bd. s. 426.

[804] Fritzsche, s. 214 ff.

[805] Reinhard, s. 15 ff. Planck, Geschichte des Christenthums in der
Periode seiner Einführung, 1, s. 175 ff.

[806] De Wette, Bibl. Dogm., § 210.

[807] Fritzsche, s. 214.

[808] Vid. the Fragmentist, s. 69.

[809] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 600 f. Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 296,
312.

[810] Comp. Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 598 f.

[811] Comp. Hase, L. J., s. 84. Rabbinical notions of the abrogation of
the Law in Schöttgen, ii. s. 611 ff.

[812] Thus the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, ut sup. s. 72 ff.

[813] Reinhard; Planck, Geschichte des Christenthums in der Per. seiner
Einführung, 1, s. 179 ff.

[814] Paulus, Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 380 f. Hase, L. J., § 102.

[815] Olshausen, 1, s. 507.

[816] Hase, ut sup.

[817] Antiq. xx. vi. 1. For some rabbinical rules not quite in
accordance with this, see Lightfoot, p. 991.

[818] Bertholdt, Christol. Judæor., § 7.

[819] Some erroneously attribute this meaning to their question; see in
Lücke 1, s. 533.

[820] Bretschneider, ut sup. s. 47 ff. 97 f.

[821] Lücke, 1, s. 520 ff.

[822] Tholuck, in loc.

[823] Lücke and Tholuck, in loc. Hase, L. J., 67.

[824] E.g. Tholuck, in many passages.

[825] Comp. Schöttgen, horæ, i. s. 970 f. Wetstein, s. 863.

[826] Paulus, Leben Jesu, 1, a, 187; Comment. 4, in loc.

[827] Comp. Olshausen in loc., and Bretschneider, Probab., s. 50.

[828] Olshausen, Lücke, in loc.

[829] Comp. Bretschneider, ut sup. s. 49 f.

[830] Homil. ii. 6, comp. iii. 12.

[831] Schöttgen, horæ, ii. p. 371 f.

[832] Lightfoot, p. 1002.

[833] Lücke, 1, s. 542.

[834] Lücke, s. 540, note. Bretschneider, s. 52

[835] Comm. in Joan, tom. 13.

[836] Kuinöl, Comm. in Matth., s. 100; Lücke, Comm. z. Joh. 1, s. 388;
Olshausen, bibl. Comm. 1, s. 197; Hase, Leben Jesu, §§ 56, 61.

[837] Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 212.

[838] Paulus, Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 213; Sieffert, über den Ursprung u.
s. f., s. 72.

[839] See Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 189.

[840] Schöttgen, horæ, ii. p. 372.

[841] Paulus, ut sup.

[842] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 464.

[843] Gnomon, in loc.

[844] Paulus, Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 168.

[845] S. 385.

[846] Vid. Lücke, s. 389 f.

[847] Ut sup.

[848] P. 141.

[849] Storr, üeber den Zweck der ev. Gesch. und der Br. Joh., s. 350.

[850] Exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 449.

[851] Bibl. Comm. 1, p. 283.

[852] Ueber den Lukas, s. 70.

[853] This, with the legendary character of both narratives, is
acknowledged by De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 37, 1, 2, s. 38 f.

[854] Neander is of the same opinion, L. J., s. 249 f.

[855] Uber den Ursprung des ersten kan. Ev., s. 73.

[856] Berliner Jahrbücher für wissenschaftliche Kritik, 1834 Nov.; now
in the Charakteristiken u. Kritiken, s. 264 f.

[857] According to De Wette, the copious draught of fishes was a
symbolical miracle, typifying the rich fruits of the apostolic
ministry.

[858] Porphyr. vita Pythagoræ, no. 25, ed. Kiessling; Jamblich. v. P.
no. 36. ders. Ausg. It is fair to adduce this history, because, being
less marvellous than the gospel narrative, it can hardly be an
imitation, but must have arisen independently, and hence it evinces a
common tendency of the ancient legend.

[859] Luke v. 5: δι’ ὅλης τῆς νυκτὸς κοπιάσαντες οὐδὲν ἐλάβομεν. John
xxi. 3: καὶ ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ νυκτὶ ἐπίασαν ουδέν.

[860] Comp. de Wette, exeg Handb., 1, 3, s. 213.

[861] Vid. Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 255.

[862] Sieffert, ut sup. p. 55.

[863] Kuinöl, ut sup. Paulus, exeg. Handb., 1, b, s. 513. L. J., 1, a,
240.

[864] Bertholdt, Einleitung, 3, s. 1255 f. Fritzsche, s. 340.

[865] Sieffert, s. 56; De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 91.

[866] Sieffert, s. 60.

[867] De Wette, ut sup.

[868] Exeg. Handb., 1, b, s. 510. L. J., 1, a, 240.

[869] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 76.

[870] Grätz, Comm. z. Matth. 1, s. 470.

[871] Augustin c. Faust. Manich. xvii. 1.

[872] iii. i. 4.

[873] Plutarch. de gloria Atheniens., at the beginning.

[874] Schulz, Ueber das Abendmahl, s. 308.

[875] Comp. de Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 2, p. 134.

[876] Ut sup., p. 77.

[877] De Wette, exeg. Handb. I, 1, p. 93.

[878] Paulus, exeg. Handb., 3, a, s. 48. Kuinöl, in Luc., p. 632.

[879] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 85.

[880] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 85.

[881] Ut sup., s. 88.

[882] Ep. Barnab. 8, and the Gospel of the Ebionites ap. Epiphanius,
hær. xxx. 13.

[883] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 87.

[884] If ἡ πόλις Ἀνδρέου καὶ Πέτρου, John i. 45, mean the same as ἡ
ἰδία πόλις, Matth. ix. 1, that is, the place where they were resident,
there exists a contradiction on this point between John and the
synoptists.

[885] Comp. Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 358.

[886] Comp. Lightfoot, in loc.

[887] Comp. Saunier, über die Quellen des Markus, s. 55 f.

[888] Comp. de Wette, in loc.

[889] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 556.

[890] This is probably a mere inference of Mark. Because Jesus excluded
the multitude, and forbade the publication of the event, the Evangelist
saw in it one of those secret scenes, to which Jesus was accustomed to
admit only the three favoured apostles.

[891] In the ancient church it was thought that Jesus had communicated
to these three individuals the γνῶσις, to be mysteriously transmitted.
Vid. in Gieseler, K. G. 1, s. 234.

[892] Even Paulus, L. J. 1, a, s. 167 f., remarks that the fourth
Evangelist seems to have had a design in noticing this circumstance.

[893] This has not escaped the acumen of Dr. Paulus. In a review of the
first volume of the second ed. of Lücke’s Comm. zum Johannes, in Lt.
Bl. zur allg. Kirchenzeitung, Febr., 1834, no. 18, s. 137 f., he says:
“The gospel of John has only preserved the less advantageous
circumstances connected with Peter (excepting vi. 68), such as place
him in marked subordination to John [here the passages above considered
are cited]. An adherent of Peter can hardly have had a hand in the
Gospel of John.” We may add that it seems to have proceeded from an
antagonist of Peter, for it is probable that he had such of the school
of John, as well as of Paul.

[894] Vid. Lücke, Comm. zum Joh. 2, s. 708.

[895] Paulus, in his review of Bretschneider’s Probabilien, in the
Heidelberger Jahrbüchern, 1821, no. 9, s. 138.

[896] Lücke, ut sup. s. 664.

[897] Bretschneider, Probabilia, p. 111 f.

[898] Comp. Paulus, ut sup. s. 137.

[899] Thus most of the expositors, Fritzsche, Matth., s. 359; Winer,
Realwörterb. 1, s. 163 f. Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 98.

[900] Joseph., bell. jud. iv. iii. 9.

[901] Comp. Credner, Einleitung 1, s. 64; De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1,
s. 98 f.

[902] De Wette, ut sup.

[903] Ueber den Lukas, s. 88 f.

[904] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 307; Schneckenburger, über den
Ursprung, s. 13 f.

[905] Tuf haarez, f. xix. c. iii.; Clem. hom. xviii. 4; Recognit.
Clement. ii. 42; Epiphan. hær. i. 5.

[906] Schneckenburger, ut sup.; Gieseler, über Entstehung der schriftl.
Evangelien, s. 127 f.

[907] Lightfoot, p. 786.

[908] De Wette, exeget. Handb., 1, 1, s. 99 f. 1, 2, s. 61. 1, 3, s.
220; Theile, zur Biogr. J., § 24. For the contrary opinion, see
Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 498 f.

[909] All that relates to the sufferings, death, and resurrection of
Jesus is here excluded.

[910] Augustin, de consens. ev. ii. 19; Storr, über den Zweck des
Evang. u. d. Br. Joh., s. 347 ff. For further references see Tholuck’s
Auslegung der Bergpredigt, Einl., § 1.

[911] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 47 ff. 1, 2, s. 44.

[912] Tholuck, s. 24; Paulus, exeg. Handb., 1, b, s. 584.

[913] Schulz, vom Abendmahl, s. 313 f.; Sieffert, s. 74 ff.; Fritzsche,
s. 301.

[914] Olshausen, Bibl. Comm., 1, s. 197; Kern, in der Tüb. Schrift,
1834, 2, s. 33.

[915] Schulz, ut sup. s. 315; Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 26;
Credner, Einleit., 1, s. 69.

[916] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 89 f.

[917] Tholuck, p. 11, and my Review of the writings of Sieffert and
others in the Jahrbuch f. wiss. Kritik, Nov. 1834; now in my
Charakteristiken u. Kritiken, s. 252 ff.

[918] Comp. Tholuck, ut sup. s. 25 ff.; De Wette, exeget. Handb., 1, 1,
s. 49.

[919] Storr, Ueber den Zweck u. s. w., s. 348 f. Olshausen.

[920] De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 2, s. 44 f.; Neander, L. J. Chr., s.
155 f., Anm.

[921] Homil. xv. 7; comp. Credner in Winer’s Zeitschrift f. wiss.
Theologie, 1, s. 298 f.; Schneckenburger, über das Evangelium der
Aegyptier, § 6.

[922] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung, s. 29.

[923] Ut sup. s. 90, Neander agrees with him, ut sup.

[924] The Rabbins also attached weight to these Mosaic blessings and
curses, vid. Lightfoot, p. 255. As here we have eight blessings, they
held that Abraham had beenblessed benedictionibus septem (Baal Turim,
in Gen. xii. Lightfoot, p. 256); David, Daniel with his three
companions, and the Messiah, benedictionibus sex. (Targ. Ruth. 3,
ibid.) They also counted together with the twenty beatitudines in the
Psalms, as many væ in Isaiah. (Midrasch Tehillim in Ps. i. ib.).

[925] Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 58. Neander tries to show, very
artificially, a real connection of thought, s. 157, Anm.

[926] Olshausen in loc. The true reading is indicated by
Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 58; Tholuck, ut sup. s. 11.

[927] This cause is overlooked by Schleiermacher, s. 205; comp. De
Wette, in loc.

[928] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 90. Tholuck, s. 21.

[929] Tholuck, s. 12, 187; De Wette, in loc.

[930] Ut sup. 206 f.

[931] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 2, s. 86.

[932] De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 48.

[933] Orig. de orat. xviii. and Hess, Gesch. Jesu, 2, s. 48 f.

[934] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 173; Olshausen, 1, s. 235; Sieffert,
s. 78 ff. Neander, s. 235 f. note.

[935] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 69. 1, 2, s. 65.

[936] N.T. 1, 323. The parallels may be seen in Wetstein and Lightfoot.

[937] Comm. in Matt., p. 265.

[938] Comp. De Wette, 1, 1, s. 69 ff.; Neander, s. 237 ff.

[939] Comp. De Wette, 1, 2, s. 176.

[940] From vi. 19 to the end of the chapter even Neander finds no
orderly association, and conjectures that the editor of the Greek
Gospel of Matthew was the compiler of this latter half of the discourse
(p. 169, note).

[941] Neander, ut sup.; De Wette, in loc.

[942] De Wette, 1, 2, s. 45.

[943] De Wette in loc. des Lukas.

[944] E.g. Hess, Gesch. Jesu, 1, s. 545.

[945] Schulz, ut sup. s. 308, 314; Sieffert, s. 80 ff.

[946] Olshausen, in loc. The latter bold assertion in Kern, Über den
Ursprung des Evang. Matth., s. 63.

[947] Schulz, s. 315.

[948] Vid. De Wette, Archäol., § 265, and in loc.

[949] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 99.

[950] Schulz, s. 308; Sieffert, s. 82 ff.

[951] The satisfactory connexion which modern criticism finds
throughout the 12th chap. of Luke, I am as little able to discover as
Tholuck, Auslegung der Bergpredigt, s. 13 f., who has strikingly
exposed the partiality of Schleiermacher for Luke, to the prejudice of
Matthew.

[952] Vid. De Wette in loc.

[953] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 169 f.; Schneckenburger, über
den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 32 f.

[954] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 110. 1, 2, s. 62.

[955] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 314.

[956] Olshausen, bibl. Comm. 1, s. 437.

[957] L. J. Chr., s. 175.

[958] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 33.

[959] Olshausen, s. 438.

[960] Schleiermacher, s. 120.

[961] Fritzsche, Comm. in Marc., s. 120, 128, 134; De Wette, in loc.

[962] Comp. Saunier, über die Quellen des Markus, s. 74; Fritzsche ut
sup.; De Wette in loc.

[963] Schleiermacher, ut. sup. s. 192; Olshausen, 1, s. 431;
Schneckenburger, ut sup. s. 33.

[964] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 2, s. 73 f.

[965] Analogies to these parables and apothegms are given out of the
rabbinical literature by Wetstein, Lightfoot, and Schöttgen, in loc.

[966] Ueber den Lukas, s. 220.

[967] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 202 ff. Olshausen in loc.

[968] Ut sup.

[969] Schneckenburger has decided, Beiträge, No. V. where he refutes
Olshausen’s interpretation of the parable, that this verse does not
really belong to its present position, while with respect to the
preceding verses from v. 9, he finds it possible to hold the contrary
opinion. De Wette also considers that v. 13 is the only one decidedly
out of place. He thinks it possible, by supplying an intermediate
proposition, which he supposes the writer to have omitted, and which
led from the prudent use of riches to faithfulness in preserving those
entrusted to us, to give a sufficient connexion to v. 9 and 10–12,
without necessarily referring the idea of faithfulness to the conduct
of the steward. The numerous attempts, both ancient and modern, to
explain the parable of the steward without a critical dislocation of
the associated passages, are only so many proofs that it is absolutely
requisite to a satisfactory interpretation.

[970] Comp. de Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 2, s. 80.

[971] Ut sup. s. 208.

[972] Vid. Kuinöl, in loc.

[973] Comp. De Wette, 1, 2, s. 86 f.

[974] On the Essenes as contemners of riches (καταφρονητὰς πλούτου),
comp. Joseph., b. j. ii. viii. 3; Credner, über Essener und Ebioniten,
in Winer’s Zeitschrift, 1, s. 217; Gfrörer, Philo, 2, s. 311.

[975] Thus Kuinöl, Comm. in Luc., p. 635.

[976] Ueber den Lukas, 239 f. Neander agrees with him, L. J. Chr., p.
188.

[977] This is a reply to Neander’s objection, p. 191, note.

[978] How Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, a, p. 76, can pronounce the more
complex form of the parable in Luke as not only the most fully
developed but the best wound up, I am at a loss to understand.

[979] Comp. De Wette, I, I, s. 208 f.

[980] V. 12. Ἄνθρωπος τις εὐγενὴς ἐπορεύθη εἰς χώραν μακρὰν, λαβεῖν
ἑαυτῷ βασιλείαν, καὶ ὑποστρέψαι. 14. οἱ δὲ πολίται αὐτοῦ ἐμίσουν αὐτὸν,
καὶ ἀπέστειλαν πρεσβείαν ὀπισω αὐτοῦ, λέγοντες· οὐ θέλομεν τοῦτον
βασιλεῦσαι ἐφ’ ἡμᾶς. 15. καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ ἐπανελθεῖν αὐτὸν λαβόντα τὴν
βασιλείαν, καὶ εἶπε φωνηθῆναι αὐτῷ τοὺς δούλους—(καὶ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς·) 27.
—τοὺς ἐχθρούς μου ἐκείνους, τοὺς μὴ θελήσαντάς με βασιλεῦσαι έπ’
αὐτοὺς, ἀγάγετε ὧδε καὶ κατασφάξατε ἕμπροσθέν μου.

[981] Fritzsche, p. 656. This remark serves to refute De Wette’s
vindication of the above particular in his exeg. Handb.

[982] Paulus, exeg. Handb 3, a, s. 210; Olshausen, bibl. Comm. 1, s.
811.

[983] Vid. Fritzsche, ut sup.

[984] From the appendix to Schneckenburger’s Beiträgen, I see that a
reviewer in the Theol. Literaturblatt, 1831, No. 88, has also
conjectured that we have here a blending of two originally distinct
parables.

[985] Comp. De Wette, 1, 1, s. 152.

[986] Ueber den Lukas, s. 153 f.

[987] Comp. De Wette, in loc.

[988] Vid. Fritzsche and De Wette, in loc.

[989] Saunier, über die Quellen des Markus, s. 111.

[990] Comp. De Wette, in loc., Matt.

[991] Vid. de Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, p. 155.

[992] Analogous passages from Jewish writings are given in Wetstein,
Lightfoot, Schöttgen, in loc.

[993] Bemidbar R. ad. Num. v. 30, in Wetstein, p. 303.

[994] E.g. Paulus, L. J. 1, b, s. 46.

[995] For probable doubts as to the correctness of the position given
to this discourse of Jesus, vid. Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 525, Anm.

[996] Paulus, ib. s. 50, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 599.

[997] In this passage, it is true that celibacy is at first recommended
as good for the present distress; but the Apostle does not rest there;
for at v. 32 ff. he adds, He that is unmarried careth for the things of
the Lord—he that is married for the things of the world:—a motive to
celibacy which must be equally valid under all circumstances, and which
affords us a glimpse into the fundamental asceticism of Paul’s views.
Comp. Rückert’s Commentary in loc.

[998] Vid. Gfrörer, Philo, 2, s. 310 f.

[999] A concise elucidation of them may be found in Hase, L. J. § 129.

[1000] Vid. Gemara Hieros. Berac. f. v. 4, in Lightfoot, p. 423, and R.
Manasse Ben Isr. in Schöttgen, i. p. 180.

[1001] See his 4th Fragment, Lessing’s 4ten Beitrag, s. 434 ff.

[1002] L. J. 1, b, s. 115 ff.

[1003] Vid. Wetstein, in loc. Hengstenberg, Christol. 1, a, s. 140 f.;
also Paulus himself, exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 283 f.

[1004] Comp. De Wette, in loc.

[1005] Ueber den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 45, 47.

[1006] Paulus and Olshausen, in loc.

[1007] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 186.

[1008] Sieffert, über den Ursprung des ersten Ev., s. 117 f.

[1009] Comp. De Wette, 1, 1. s. 189.

[1010] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 313 f.; Schneckenburger, über den
Ursprung, s. 54.

[1011] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 182, 196 f.; Olshausen, in
loc., and the writers mentioned in the foregoing note.

[1012] Ut sup. 180.

[1013] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 189, 1, 2, s. 67, 76.

[1014] Joseph., b. j. iv. v. 4.

[1015] Eichhorn, Einleitung in das N.T., 1, s. 510 ff.; Hug, Einl. in
das N.T., 2, s. 10 ff.; Credner, Einl., 1, s. 207.

[1016] Vid. Theile, über Zacharias Barachias Sohn, in Winer’s und
Engelhardt’s neuem krit. Journ., 2, s. 401 ff.; De Wette, in loc.

[1017] Targum Thren. ii. 20, in Wetstein, s. 491.

[1018] Comp. De Wette, in loc.

[1019] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 321.

[1020] This “secret information” is very welcome to Dr. Paulus, because
it gives a useful hint “as to many occurrences in the life of Jesus,
the causes of which are not obvious” (L. J. 1, b, s. 141); that is
Paulus, like Bahrdt and Venturini, though less openly, is fond of using
such secret and influential allies as deus ex machinâ, for the
explanation of much that is miraculous in the life of Jesus (the
transfiguration, residence after the resurrection, etc.).

[1021] Orig. c. Cels. i. 62.

[1022] Let the reader bear in mind the kindred names Nicolaus and
Nicolaitans.

[1023] Prob., p. 44. Bretschneider is right, however, in declaring
against Kuinöl’s method of supplying a connexion between the discourses
in John, by the insertion of propositions and intermediate discourses,
supposed to have been omitted. Lücke judiciously admits (1, p. 446)
that if, in John, something appears to be wanting between two
consecutive expressions of Jesus, we are yet to suppose that there was
an immediate connexion between them in the mind of the Evangelist, and
it is this connexion which it is the task of exegesis to ascertain. In
truth the discourses in the fourth gospel are never entirely wanting in
connexion (apart from the exceptions to be noticed in § 81), though
that connexion is sometimes very latent.

[1024] Bereschith R., sect 39 f. xxxviii. 2. Bammidbar R., s. 11 f.
ccxi. 2. Tanchuma f. v. 2, in Schöttgen, i. s. 704. Something similar
is said of Moses, from Schemoth R., ib.

[1025] Jevamoth f. lxii. 1, xcii. 1, in Lightfoot, p. 984.

[1026] E.g. Knapp, comm. in colloq. Christi cum Nicod. in loc.

[1027] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 183. L. J. 1, a, s. 176.

[1028] Lücke and Tholuck, in loc.

[1029]

III. 11: ὃ ἑωράκαμεν μαρτυροῦμεν καὶ I. 18: θεὸν οὐδεὶς ἑώρακε
τὴν μαρτυρίαν ἡμῶν οὐ λαμβάνετε. 13: πώποτε. ὁ μονογενὴς υἱὸς, ὁ ὣν
καὶ οὐδεὶς ἀναβέβηκεν εἰς τὸν εἰς τὸν κόλπον τοῦ πατρὸς
οὐρανὸν, εἰ μὴ ὁ ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἐκεῖνος ἐξηγήσατο.
καταβὰς, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ὁ ὢν ἐν
τῷ οὐρανῷ. 11: —καὶ οἱ ἴδιοι αὐτὸν οὐ
παρέλαβον.

[1030] Sup. § 46.

[1031] This is informed in the Probabilia, p. 46.

[1032] Ut sup. p. 476.

[1033] Comp. Bretschneider, ut sup.

[1034] De Wette adduces as examples of a similar procedure on the part
of Jesus in the synoptical gospels, Matt. xix. 21, xx. 22 f. But these
two cases are of a totally different kind from the one under
consideration in John. We have here to treat of a want of
comprehension, in the face of which it is surprising that Jesus instead
of descending to its level, chooses to elevate himself to a still less
attainable altitude. In the passages quoted from the synoptists, on the
other hand, we have examples of an excessive self-valuation, too high
an estimate of their ability to promote the cause of Jesus, on the part
of the rich young man and of the sons of Zebedee, and Jesus with
perfect propriety checks their egotistic ardour by the abrupt
presentation of a higher demand. These instances could only be parallel
with that of Nicodemus, if the latter had piqued himself on his
enlightenment, and Jesus, by a sudden flight into a higher region, had
sought to convince him of his ignorance.

[1035] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 96.

[1036]

III. 19: αὕτη δέ ἐστιν ἡ κρίσις, I. 9: ἦν τὸ φῶς τὸ ἀληθινὸν, τὸ
ὅτι τὸ φῶς ἐλήλυθεν εἰς τὸν φωτίζον πάντα ἄνθρωπον, ἐρχόμενον
κόσμον, καὶ ἠγάπησαν οἱ ἄνθρωποι εἰς τὸν κόσμον. 5: καὶ τὸ φῶς ἐν τῆ
μᾶλλον τὸ σκότος ἢ τὸ φῶς. σκοτίᾳ φαίνει, καὶ ἡ σκοτία αὐτὸ οὐ
κατέλαβεν.
III. 16: ὅυτω γὰρ ἠγάπησεν ὁ θεὸς
τὸν κόσμον, ὥστε τὸν υἱὸν αὑτοῦ 1 John iv. 9: ἐν τούτῳ ἐφανερώθη ἡ
τὸν μονογενῆ ἔδωκεν, ἵνα πᾶς ὁ ἀγάπη τοῦ θεοῦ ἐν ἡμῖν, ὅτι τὸν
πιστεύων εἰς αὐτὸν, μὴ ἀπόληται υἱὸν αὑτοῦ τὸν μονογενῆ ἀπέστειλεν
ἀλλ’ ἔχη ζωὴν αἰώνιον. ὁ θεὸς εἰς τὸν κόσμον, ἵνα ζήσωμεν
δι’ αὐτοῦ.

[1037] Paulus and Olshausen, in loc.

[1038] Tholuck (Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 335) adduces as examples of a
similar unobserved fusion of a discourse quoted from a foreign source,
with the writer’s own matter, Gal. ii. 14 ff. Euseb., H. E. iii. 1, 39.
Hieron. Comm. in Jes. 53. But such instances in an epistle, a
commentary or an historical work interspersed with reasoning and
criticism are not parallel with those in an historical narrative of the
nature of our fourth gospel. In works of the former kind, the reader
expects the author to reason, and hence, when the discourse of another
party has been introduced, he is prepared at the slightest pause to see
the author again take up the argument. It is quite different with a
work like our fourth gospel. The introduction, it is true, is put forth
as the author’s own reasoning, and it is there quite natural that after
a brief quotation from the discourse of another, v. 15, he should, at
v. 16, resume the character of speaker without any express intimation.
But when once he has entered on his narrative, which is strictly a
recital of what has been done, and what has been said, all that he
annexes without any mark of distinction (as e.g. xii. 37) to a
discourse explicitly ascribed to another, must be considered as a
continuation of that discourse.

[1039] Philo. Opp. ed. Mang. i. 44. apud Gfrörer, i. p. 122.

[1040]

Joh. v. 20: ὁ γὰρ πατὴρ φιλεῖ τὸν John iii. 35 (the Baptist): ὁ γὰρ
υἱὸν καὶ πάντα δείκνυσιν αὐτῷ, ἃ πατηρ ἀγαπᾷ τὸν υἱὸν καὶ πάντα
αὑτὸς ποιεῖ. δέδωκεν ἐν τῇ χειρὶ αὐτοῦ.

24: ὁ τὸν λόγον μου 1 Joh. iii. 14: ἡμεῖς οἴδαμεν, ὅτι
ἀκούων—μεταβέβηκεν ἐκ τοῦ θανάτου μεταβεβηκαμεν ἐκ τοῦ θανάτου εἰς
εἰς τὴν ζωήν. τὴν ζωήν.

32: καὶ οἶδα, ὅτι ἀληθής ἐστιν ἡ Joh. xix. 35: καὶ ἀληθινή ἑστιν
μαρτυρία, ἣν μαρτυρεῖ περὶ ἐμοῦ. αὐτοῦ ἡ μαρτυρία, κἀκεῖνος οἶδεν,
ὃτι ἀληθῆ λέγει. Comp. xxi. 24. 1
34: ἑγὼ δὲ οὐ παρὰ ἀνθρώπου τὴν Joh. 3, 12.
μαρτυρίαν λαμβάνω.
1 Joh. v. 9: εἰ τὴν μαρτυρίαν τῶν
36: ἐγὼ δὲ ἔχω μαρτυρίαν μείζω ἀνθρώπων λαμβάνομεν, ἡ μαρτυρία τοῦ
τοῦ Ἰωάννου. θεοῦ, μείζων ἐστίν· ὅτι αὔτη ἐστιν
ἡ μαρτυρία τοῦ θεοῦ, ἣν μεμαρτύρηκε
37: καὶ ὁ πέμψας με πατὴρ, αὐτὸς περὶ τοῦ υἱοῦ αὐτοῦ.
μεμαρτύρηκε περὶ ἐμοῦ.
Joh. i. 18: θεὸν οὐδεὶς ἑώρακε
Ib.: ὄυτε τὴν φωνὴν αὐτοῦ πώποτε. Comp. 1 Joh. iv. 12.
ἀκηκόατε πώποτε, οὕτε τὸ εἶδος
αὐτοῦ ἑωράκατε. 1 Joh. i. 10: καὶ ὁ λόγος αὐτοῦ οὐκ
ἐστιν ἐν ὑμῖν.
38: καὶ τὸν λόγον αὐτοῦ οὐκ ἔχετε
μένοντα ἐν ὑμῖν. 1 Joh. v. 12: ὁ μὴ ἔχων τὸν υἱὸν
τοῦ θεοῦ ζωὴν οὐκ ἔχει.
40: καὶ οὐ θέλετε ἐλθείν πρός με,
ἵνα ζωὴν ἔχητε. 1 Joh. ii. 15: οὐκ ἔστιν ἡ ἀγάπη
τοῦ πατρὸς ἐν αὐτῷ.
42: ὅτι τὴν ἀγάπην τοῦ θεοῦ οὐκ
ἔχετε ἐν ἑαυτοῖς. Joh. xi. 43: ἡγάπησαν γὰρ τὴν δόξαν
τῶν ἀνθρώπων μᾶλλον, ἤπερ τὴν δόξαν
44: πῶς δύνασθε ὑμεῖς πιστεύειν, τοῦ θεοῦ.
δόξαν παρὰ ἀλλήλων λαμβάνοντες,
καὶ τὴν δόξαν τὴν παρὰ του μόνου
θεοῦ οὐ ζητεῖτε·

[1041] Vid. the passages compared by Gfrörer, 1, s. 194, from Philo, de
linguarum confusione.

[1042] Sup. § 14.

[1043] De profugis, Opp. Mang., i. s. 566, Gfrörer, 1, s. 202. What is
farther said of the λόγος: ἀφ’ οὒ πᾶσαι παιδεῖαι καὶ σοφίαι ῥέουσιν
ἀένναοι may be compared with John iv. 14, vi. 35, vii. 38.

[1044] See Lücke’s History of the interpretation of this passage in his
Comm. 2, Appendix B, p. 727 ff.

[1045] Hase, L. J. § 99.

[1046] Comp. Bretschneider, Probab., pp. 56, 88 ff.

[1047] In relation to this chapter, I entirely approve the following
remark in the Probabilia (p. 56): videretur—Jesus ipse studuisse, ut
verbis illuderet Judæis, nec ab iis intelligeretur, sed reprobaretur.
Ita vero nec egit, nec agere potuit, neque si ita docuisset, tanta
effecisset, quanta illum effecisse historia testatur. Comp. De Wette,
exeg. Handb., 1, 3, s. 6.

[1048] E.g. by Tholuck and Lücke. The latter, however, allows that it
is rather an incipient than a complete parable. Olshausen also remarks,
that the discourses of the Shepherd and the Vine are rather comparisons
than parables; and Neander shows himself willing to distinguish the
parable presented by the synoptists as a species, under the genus
similitude, to which the παροιμίαι of John belong.

[1049]

x. 27: τὰ πρόβατα τὰ ἐμὰ τῆς x. 3: καὶ τὰ πρόβατα τῆς φωνῆς
φωνῆς μου ἀκούει, αὐτοῦ ἀκούει.

κἀγὼ γινώσκω αὐτά· 14: καὶ γινώσκω τυ ἐμα

28: καὶ ἀκολουθοῦσί μοι. 4: καὶ τὰ πρόβατα αὐτῷ ἀκολουθεῖ.

Also κἀγω ζωὴν αἰώνιον δίδωμι αὐτοῖς corresponds to ἐγὼ ἠλθον, ἳνα ζωὴν
ἔχωσι, v. 10, and καὶ οὐχ ἁρπάσει τις αὐτὰ ἐκ τῆς χειρός μου is the
counterpart of what is said v. 12 of the hireling who allows the sheep
to be scattered.

[1050] Comp. v. 44 with vii. 17; v. 46 with viii. 12; v. 47 with iii.
17; v. 48 with iii. 18, v. 45; v. 49 with viii. 28; v. 50 with vi. 40,
vii. 17, viii. 28.

[1051] L. J., b, s. 142.

[1052] Lücke, Tholuck, Paulus, in loc.

[1053] Cyril, Erasmus. Tholuck’s expedient, which Olshausen approves,
is to give ἐμαρτύρησεν the signification of the pluperfect, and to
understand γὰρ as an explicative. But I do not see how this can be of
any avail, for γὰρ and οὖν (v. 45) would still form a relation of
agreement between two propositions, which one would have expected to be
opposed to each other by μὲν and δὲ.

[1054] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 251, 56.

[1055] This idea is so entirely in the spirit of the ancient
harmonists, that I can scarcely believe Lücke to be the first to whom
it had occurred (Comm. 1, s. 545 f.).

[1056] Vid. sup. § 39.

[1057] Paulus, L. J. 1, b, s. 158.

[1058] Lücke, 2, s. 478.

[1059] Tholuck, in loc.

[1060] Paulus, L. J. 1, b, s. 175; Lücke, Tholuck, Olshausen, in loc.;
Hug, Einl. in das N. T. 2, s. 209.

[1061] Wegscheider, Einl. in das Evang. Joh., s. 271; Tholuck, Comm. s.
37 f.

[1062] Thus Eckermann, theol. Beiträge, 5, 2, s. 228; (Vogel) der
Evangelist Johannes und seine Ausleger vor dem jüngsten Gericht, 1, s.
28 ff.; Wegscheider, s. 281; Bretschneider, Probabil., 33, 45, apud
Wegscheider, ut sup. s. 281; Bretschneider, Probab., p. 33, 45.

[1063] De Wette, Einl. in das N. T., § 105; Tholuck, Comm. z. Joh., s.
38 f.; Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 344 ff.; Lücke, 1, s. 198 f.

[1064] Commentar, 4, s. 275 f.

[1065] Verosimilia de origine evangelii Joannis, opusc. p. 1 ff.,
Einleit. in das N. T., s. 1302 ff. This opinion is approved by
Wegscheider, ut sup. p. 270 ff. and also Hug, 2. 263 f., and Tholuck,
Comm. p. 38, think the supposition of early notes not to be altogether
rejected.

[1066] Lücke, 1, s. 192 f.

[1067] Henke, programm. quo illustratur Johannes apostolus nonnullorum
Jesu apophthegmatum et ipse interpres.

[1068] Bretschneider, Probab., p. 14 f.

[1069] Ut sup. p. 199.

[1070] Wegscheider, p. 286; Lücke, p. 195 f.

[1071] Wegscheider, p. 285; Lücke, ut sup.

[1072] Lücke, s. 124 f. 175. Kern, über den Ursprung des Evang.
Matthäi, in der Tüb. Zeitschrift, 1834, 2, s. 109.

[1073] S. 39.

[1074] S. 197. “But lastly, why should we fear to adduce,” etc.

[1075] The aid promised to the disciples when brought before rulers and
tribunals, Matt. x. 19 f., is quite distinct from a bringing to
remembrance of the discourses of Jesus (John xiv. 26).

[1076] Bretschneider, Probab., p. 2, 3, 31 ff.

[1077] De Wette, Einl. in das N. T., § 103; Hase, L. J., § 7.

[1078] Lücke, ut sup. pp. 336, 337. Kern, ut sup.

[1079] Tholuck, ut sup.

[1080] Bretschneider, ut sup.

[1081] De Wette, ut sup. § 105.

[1082] Comp. Schulze, der schriftst. Charakter und Werth des Johannes.
1803.

[1083] Stronck—de doctrinâ et dictione Johannis apostoli, ad Jesu
magistri doctrinam dictionemque exacte composita. 1797.

[1084] Lücke, Comm. z. Joh. 1, p. 200.

[1085] Ut. sup. p. 199.

[1086] In his review of the 2nd Ed. of Lücke’s Commentar., in the Litt.
Blatt der allgem. Kirchenzeitung 1834, no. 18.

[1087] This peculiarity of the discourses in John cannot be better
described than by Erasmus in his Epist. ad Ferdinandum, prefatory to
his Paraphrase: habet Johannes suum quoddam dicendi genus, ita sermonem
velut ansulis ex sese cohærentibus contexens, nonnunquam ex contrariis,
nonnunquam ex similibus, nonnunquam ex iisdem, subinde repetitis,——ut
orationis quodque membrum semper excipiat prius, sic ut prioris finis
sit initium sequentis, etc.

[1088] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 303 ff.; Sieffert, über den
Urspr. des ersten kanon. Evang. s. 58, 73, u. s.; Schneckenburger, über
den Urspr. s. 73.

[1089] Olshausen, b. Comm. 1. s. 15.

[1090] See the above named critics, passim; and Hug, Einl. in das N. T.
2, s. 212.

[1091] Comp. Saunier, über die Quellen des Markus, s. 42 ff.

[1092] Kern, über den Urspr. des Ev. Matt. ut sup. s. 70 f.

[1093] I say, examine whether—not, consider it decided that—so that the
accusation of opponents, that I use both the particularity and the
brevity of narratives as proofs of their mythical character, falls to
the ground of itself.

[1094] Ueber den Lukas, s. 74, and elsewhere.

[1095] Ut sup. s. 311.

[1096] Schleiermacher (s. 175) does not perceive the connexion of the
discourse on the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, in Matthew (xii. 31
f.), though it links on excellently to the foregoing expression, ἐγὼ ἐν
πνεύματι θεοῦ ἐκβάλλω τὰ δαιμόνια (v. 28). It is more easy, however, to
understand this difficulty, than that he should think (s. 185 f.) that
discourse better introduced in Luke (xii. 10). For here, between the
preceding proposition, that whosoever denies the Son of Man before men,
shall be denied before the angels of God, and the one in question, the
only connexion is that the expression ἀρνεῖσθαι τὸν υἰὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου
brought to the writer’s recollection the words εἰπεῶ λὸγος εἰς τὸν υίὸν
τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. One proof of this is that between the latter passage and
the succeeding declaration, that the necessary words would be given to
the disciples, when before the tribunal, by the πνεῦμα ἅγιον, the
connexion consists just as superficially in the expression πνεῦμα
ἅγιον. What follows in Matthew (v. 33–37), had been partly given
already in the Sermon on the Mount, but stands here in a better
connexion than Schleiermacher is willing to admit.

[1097] Luke makes the demand of a sign follow immediately on the
accusation, and then gives in succession the answers of Jesus to both.
This representation modern criticism holds to be far more probable than
that of Matthew, who gives first the accusation and its answer, then
the demand of a sign and its refusal; and this judgment is grounded on
the difficulty of supposing, that after Jesus had given a sufficiently
long answer to the accusation, the very same people who had urged it
would still demand a sign (Schleiermacher, s. 175; Schneckenburger,
über den Urspr. s. 52 f.). But on the other hand, it is equally
improbable that Jesus, after having some time ago delivered a forcible
discourse on the more important point, the accusation concerning
Beelzebub, and even after an interruption which had led him to a
totally irrelevant declaration (Luke xi. 27 f.), should revert to the
less important point, namely, the demand of a sign. The discourse on
the departure and return of the unclean spirit, is in Matthew (v.
43–45) annexed to the reply of Jesus to this demand; but in Luke (xi.
24 ff.) it follows the answer to the imputation of a league with
Beelzebub, and this may at first seem to be a more suitable
arrangement. But on a closer examination, it will appear very
improbable that Jesus should conclude a defence, exacted from him by
his enemies, with so calm and purely theoretical a discourse, which
supposes an audience, if not favourably prepossessed, at least open to
instruction; and it will be found that here again there is no further
connexion than that both discourses treat of the expulsion of demons.
By this single feature of resemblance, the writer of the third gospel
was led to sever the connexion between the answer to the oft-named
accusation, and that to the demand of a sign, which accusation and
demand, as the strongest proofs of the malevolent unbelief of the
enemies of Jesus, seem to have been associated by tradition. The first
Evangelist refrained from this violence, and reserved the discourse on
the return of the unclean spirit, which was suggested by the suspicion
cast on the expulsion of demons by Jesus, until he had communicated the
answer by which Jesus parries the demand of a sign.

[1098] Vid. Griesbach, Comm. crit. in loc.

[1099] Comp. Schleiermacher, s. 190 f.

[1100] De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 139.

[1101] Ueber den Urspr. s. 115.

[1102] For the proof of this interpretation, see Fritzsche, comm. in
Marc. p. 97 ff.

[1103] Ueber den Lukas, s. 121.

[1104] Schneckenburger (über den Ur. s. 54) finds an attempt at
dramatic effect in the εἰπέτις, and the ἐκτείνας τὴν χεῖρα of Matthew,
as compared with the εἶπον and περιβλεψάμενος κύκλῳ of Mark. This is a
remarkable proof of the partial acumen which plays so distinguished a
part to the disadvantage of Matthew in modern criticism. For who does
not see that if Matthew had εἶπον, it would be numbered among the
proofs that his narrative is wanting in dramatic life? As for the words
ἐκτείνας τὴν χεῖρα, there is nothing to be discovered in them which
could give to them more than to the περιβλεψάμενος of Mark, the stamp
of artificiality; we might as well attribute the latter expression to
Mark’s already discovered fondness for describing the action of the
eyes, and consequently regard it as an addition of his own.

[1105]

Answer to the announcement, viii. Answer to the woman, xi. 28:
21: μήτηρ μοῦ καὶ ἀδελφοί μοῦ μενοῦγγε μακάριοι (sc. οὐχ ἡ μήτηρ
οὗτοί εἰσιν οἱ τὸν λὸγον τοῦ θεοῦ μοῦ, ἀλλ’) οἱ ἀκούοντες τὸν λόγον
ἀκούντες καὶ ποιοῦντες αὐτόν. τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ φυλάσσοντες αὐτόν.

[1106] Ut sup s. 177 f.

[1107] That which decided the Evangelist to place the visit after the
parable of the sower, was probably not, as Schleiermacher thinks, a
real chronological connexion. On the contrary, we recognize the usual
characteristic of his arrangement, in the transition from the
concluding sentence in the explanation of the parable: these are they
who having heard the word, keep it, and bring forth fruit with
patience, to the similar expression of Jesus on the occasion of the
visit: those who hear the word of God and do it.

[1108] Ut sup. s. 152.

[1109] Schulz (üb. d. Abendm. s. 320) speaks consistently with the tone
of the recent criticism on Matthew when he asserts, that he does not
doubt for a moment that every observant reader will, without
hesitation, prefer the representation of Mark, who, without mentioning
the mother, confines the whole transaction to Jesus and the two
apostles. But so far as historical probability is concerned, I would
ask, why should not a woman, who was one of the female companions of
Jesus (Matt. xxvii. 56), have ventured on such a petition? As regards
psychological probability, the sentiment of the church, in the choice
of the passage for St. James’s day, has usually decided in favour of
Matthew; for so solemn a prayer, uttered on the spur of the moment, is
just in character with a woman, and more especially a mother devoted to
her sons.

[1110] Compare Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 283.

[1111] Paulus and Tholuck, in loc.; Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 388, Anm.

[1112] Ueber den Urspr. s. 108 ff.

[1113] Lücke, 1, s. 435 ff.; De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 174 f.; i.
3, s. 40.

[1114] Ut sup. s. 109; comp. Schneckenburger, s. 26 f.

[1115] Lightfoot, s. 632, from Bab. Jevamoth, f. vi. 2.

[1116] Lücke, s. 438.

[1117] Lücke, s. 437; Sieffert, s. 110.

[1118] Comm. in Joh. tom. 10, § 17; Opp. 1, p. 322, ed. Lommatzsch.

[1119] Kuinöl, in loc.

[1120] Bretschneider, Probab. p. 43.

[1121] English Commentators, ap. Lücke, 1, s. 435 f., Anm.

[1122] Eng. Comm. ap. Lücke. According to Neander (s. 387, Anm.),
Jesus, after his last entrance into Jerusalem, when the enthusiasm of
the populace was on his side, must have shunned every act that could be
interpreted into a design of using external force, and thus creating
disturbances. But he must equally have shunned this at the beginning,
as at the end, of his career, and the proceeding in the temple was
rather a provocation of external force against himself, than a use of
it for his own purposes.

[1123] Comm. in Joh. Tom. 10, 16, p. 321 f., ed. Lommatzsch.

[1124] Lücke, in loc.

[1125] Lücke, s. 413.

[1126] Ib. and Tholuck, in loc.

[1127] Olshausen, 1, s. 785.

[1128] Comm. 4, s. 164.

[1129] Hieros. Joh. tobh. f. lxi. 3, ap. Lightfoot, p. 411.

[1130] Lücke, Comm. 1, s. 410.

[1131] Ut sup., comp. also Woolston, Disc. 1.

[1132] Thus Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 766; L. J. 1, a, s. 292;
Tholuck, Lücke, Olshausen, in loc.; Hase, L. J. § 96, Anm.

[1133] This difference struck Origen, who has given a critical
comparison of these four narratives, to which, in point of acumen,
there is no parallel in more modern commentaries. See his in Matth.
Commentarior. series, Opp. ed. de la Rue, 3, s. 892 ff.

[1134] Origenes, ut sup.

[1135] Ib.

[1136] Ib.

[1137] Ib.

[1138] Comp. Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 111.

[1139] Origenes and Schleiermacher. Winer, N. T. Gramm., s. 149.

[1140]

Luke vii. 38: τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ—ταῖς John xii. 3: ἐξέμαξεν ταῖς
θριξὶ τῆς κεφαλῆς αὑτῆς ἐξέμασσε. θριξὶν αὑτῆς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ.

[1141] Kuinöl, Comm. in Matt., p. 687.

[1142] Sieffert, über den Ursprung, s. 125 f.

[1143] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 277.

[1144] Vid. Kuinöl, ut sup. p. 688; also Tholuck, s. 228.

[1145] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 582; 3, b, s. 466.

[1146] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung, u. s. f., s. 60. There is no
trace in Mark’s account that the words συντρίψασα τὸ ἀλάβαστρον signify
an accidental fracture; nor, on the other hand can they, without the
harshest ellipsis, be understood to imply merely the removal of that
which stopped the opening of the vessel, as Paulus and Fritzsche
maintain. Interpreted without violence, they can only mean a breaking
of the vessel itself. Is it asked with Paulus (Ex. Handb. 3. b. s.
471): To what purpose destroy a costly vessel? or with Fritzsche (in
Marc. p. 602): To what purpose risk wounding her own hand, and possibly
the head of Jesus also? These are questions which have a bearing on the
matter considered as the act of the woman, but not as a narrative of
Mark; for that to him, the destruction of a precious vessel should
appear suited to the noble prodigality of the woman, is in perfect
accordance with the exaggerating style which we have often observed in
him.

[1147] Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 689.

[1148] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 466, and many others.

[1149] Ueber den Lukas, s. 111 ff.

[1150] Sieffert, ut sup. s. 123 f.

[1151] Schulz, ut sup. s. 320 f.

[1152] Schneckenburger, ut sup. s. 60.

[1153] Lücke, 2, s. 417; comp. Lightfoot, horæ, p. 468, 1081.

[1154] Schulz, ut sup.

[1155] Thus Grotius and Herder.

[1156] Ap. Wetstein, Paulus, Lücke, in loc.

[1157] Maimonides on Sanhedr. 7, 1.

[1158] Mischna, tr. Sanhedr. c. 10.

[1159] For a thorough discussion of this and the following points, vid.
Paulus and Lücke in loc.

[1160] Probab., p. 72 ff.

[1161] Euseb. H. E. iii. 39: ἐκτέθειται δὲ (ὁ Παπίας) καὶ ἄλλην
ἱστορίαν περὶ γυναικὸς ἐπὶ πολλαῖς ἁμαρτίαις διαβληθείσης ἐπὶ τοῦ
Κυρίου, ἣν τὸ καθ’ Ἑβραίους εὐαγγέλιον περιέχει.

[1162] Lücke, 2, s. 217. Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 410.

[1163] Elsewhere also the two were confounded, vid. Fabricii Cod.
apocryph. N. T. 1, s. 357, not.

[1164] 3, s. 379 f.

[1165] See the passages quoted in the first volume, Introd. § 14, notes
9, 10, to which may be added 4 Esdr. xiii. 50 (Fabric. Cod. pseudepigr.
V. T. ii. p. 286), and Sohar Exod. fol. iii. col. 12 (Schöttgen, horæ,
ii. p. 541, also in Bertholdt’s Christol. § 33, note 1).

[1166] See the rabbinical passages quoted in the 1st vol. ut sup.

[1167] That the σεληνιαζόμενοι associated with them by Matthew are only
a particular species of demoniacs, whose malady appeared to be governed
by the changes of the moon, is proved by Matt. xvii. 14 ff. where a
δαιμόνιον is expelled from a σεληνιαζόμενος.

[1168] Compare the passages of ancient physicians, ap. Winer, bibl.
Realwörterb. 1, s. 191.

[1169] Rabbinical and other passages, ap. Winer, ut sup. s. 192.

[1170] Exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 475; comp. Hase, L. J. s. 60.

[1171] Ut sup. s. 191.

[1172] Grätz, Comm. z. Matth. 1, s. 615.

[1173] B. Comm. 1, s. 424. According to this, the passage relates to
the Jewish people, who before the exile were possessed by the devil in
the form of idolatry, and afterwards in the worst form of Pharisaism.

[1174] Thus Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 447.

[1175] Exeg. Handb. 2, s. 566.

[1176] Ut sup. 1, b, s. 483; 2, s. 96.

[1177] Hence the words δαιμονᾷν, κακοδαιμονᾷν were used as synonymous
with μελανχολᾷν μαίνεσθαι. Hippocrates had to combat the opinion that
epilepsy was the effect of demoniacal influence. Vid. Wetstein, s. 282
ff.

[1178] Let the reader compare the ‏רוּחַ רָעָה מֵאֵת יְהוָֹה‎, which made Saul
melancholy, 1 Sam. xvi. 14. Its influence on Saul is expressed by
‏בִּעֲתַתּוּ‎.

[1179] Vid. Creuzer, Symbolik, 3, s. 69 f.; Baur, Apollonius von Tyana
und Christus, s. 144.

[1180] Bell. jud. vii. vi. 3.

[1181] Antiq. vi. xi. 2. On the state of Saul.

[1182] Philopseud., 16.

[1183] Vitæ Apollon. iv. 20, 25, comp. Baur, ut sup. s. 38 f. 42. Even
Aristotle speaks of δαίμονί τινι γενομένοις κατόχοις. de mirab. 166,
ed. Bekk.

[1184] Ut sup., bell. j.: τὰ γὰρ καλούμενα δαιμόνια—πονηρῶν ἐστιν
ἀνθρώπων πνεύματα, τοῖς ζῶσιν εἰσδυόμενα καὶ κτείνοντα τοὺς βοηθείας μὴ
τυνχάνοντας.

[1185] Apoll. i. 18.

[1186] Ut sup. iii. 38.

[1187] Vid. Eisenmenger, entdecktes Judenthum, 2, s. 427.

[1188] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 39; L. J. 1, a, s. 217. He appeals in
support of this to Matt. xiv. 2, where Herod, on hearing of the
miracles of Jesus, says: It is John the Baptist, he is risen from the
dead. In this expression Paulus finds the rabbinical opinion of the
‏עיבור‎, which is distinct from that of the ‏גלגזל‎, or transmigration
of souls properly so called, (that is, the passage of disembodied souls
into the bodies of infants, while in the process of formation), and
according to which the soul of a dead person might unite itself to that
of a living one, and add to its power (vid. Eisenmenger 2, s. 85 ff.)
But, as Fritzsche and others have shown, the word ἠγέρθη refers to an
actual resurrection of the Baptist, and not to this rabbinical notion;
which, moreover, even were it implied, is totally different from that
of demoniacal possession. Here it would be a good spirit who had
entered into a prophet for the strengthening of his powers, as
according to a later Jewish idea the soul of Seth was united to that of
Moses, and again the souls of Moses and Aaron to that of Samuel
(Eisenmenger, ut sup.); but from this it would by no means follow, that
it was possible for wicked spirits to enter into the living.

[1189] Justin, Apol. ii. 5., Eisenmenger, ut sup.

[1190] Homil. viii. 18 f., ix. 9 f.

[1191] Orat. contra Græcos, 16.

[1192] See his Commentatio de dæmoniacis quorum in N. T. fit mentio,
and his minute consideration of demoniacal cases. So early as the time
of Origen, physicians gave natural explanations of the state of those
supposed to be possessed. Orig. in Matth. xvii. 15.

[1193] B. Comm. 1, s. 296, Anm.

[1194] S. 295 f.

[1195] S. 302, after the example of Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 474.

[1196] Homil. viii. 19.

[1197] Thus Asmodeus chooses Sara and her husband as objects of torment
and destruction, not because either the former or the latter were
particularly wicked, but because Sara’s beauty attracted him. Tob. vi.
12–15.

[1198] S. 294.

[1199] It fills s. 289–298.

[1200] I have endeavoured to present helps towards a scientific
conception of the states in question in several essays, which are now
incorporated in my Charakteristiken u. Kritiken. Comp. Wirth, Theorie
des Somnambulismus. S. 311 ff.

[1201] See note 16, the passage quoted from Lucian.

[1202] Joseph., Antiq. viii. ii. 5.

[1203] Joseph., ut sup.

[1204] Gittin, f. lxvii. 2.

[1205] Justin Mart. dial. c. Tryph. lxxxv.

[1206] Exeg. Handb. 1, 6, s. 422; L. J. 1, a, s. 128.

[1207] Bibl. Comm. i. 296.

[1208] Comp. Bertholdt, Christol. Jud. §§ 36–41.

[1209] According to Pesikta in Jalkut Schimoni ii. f. lvi. 3 (s.
Bertholdt, p. 185). Satan recognizes in the same manner the
pre-existing Messiah at the foot of the throne of God with terror, as
he qui me et omnes gentiles in infernum præcipitaturus est.

[1210] Fritzsche, in Marc., p. 35: In multis evangeliorum locis homines
legas a pravis dæmonibus agitatos, quum primum conspexerint Jesum, eum
Messiam esse, a nemine unquam de hac re commonitos, statim intelligere.
In qua re hac nostri scriptores ducti sunt sententia, consentaneum
esse. Satanæ satellites facile cognovisse Messiam, quippe insignia de
se supplicia aliquando sumturum.

[1211] A favourite resort of maniacs, vid. Lightfoot and Schöttgen, in
loc., and of unclean spirits, vid. rabbinical passages, ap. Wetstein.

[1212] The notion that the cutting himself with stones which Mark
ascribes to the demoniac, was an act of penance in lucid moments,
belongs to the errors to which Olshausen is led by his false opinion of
a moral and religious point of view in relation to these phenomena. It
is well known, however, that the paroxysms of such disorders are
precisely the occasions on which a self-destructive fury is manifested.

[1213] Vid. the collection of such explanations, ap. Fritzsche, in
Matt., p. 327.

[1214] Thus Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 309; Paulus, in loc. Hase,
L. J. § 75.

[1215] Schulz, ut sup.

[1216] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 127.

[1217] Paulus, L. J. 1, a, s. 232.

[1218] Vid. Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 329.

[1219] Natürliche Geschichte, 2, 174.

[1220] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, 473; Olshausen, s. 302.

[1221] This even Paulus, s. 474, and Olshausen, s. 303, find
surprising.

[1222] It is the narrative of the manner in which Apollonius of Tyana
unmasked a demon (empusa), vit. Ap. iv. 35; ap. Baur, s. 145.

[1223] Ut sup. s. 128. When, however, he accounts for this incorrect
supplement of Luke’s by supposing that his informant, being engaged in
the vessel, had remained behind, and thus had missed the commencement
of the scene with the demoniac, this is too laboured an exercise of
ingenuity, and presupposes the antiquated opinion, that there was the
most immediate relation possible between the evangelical histories and
the facts which they report.

[1224] S. 305, Anm.

[1225] Clem. Horn. ix. 10.

[1226] Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 332. According to Eisenmenger, 2, 447
ff., the Jews held that demons generally had a predilection for impure
places, and in Jalkut Rubeni f. x. 2. (Wetstein) we find this
observation: Anima idololatrarum, quæ venit a spiritu immundo, vocatur
porcus.

[1227] Ut sup. s. 474, 485. Winer, b. Realw. 1, s. 192.

[1228] Fritzsche, in Matth., s. 330.

[1229] Paulus, ut sup. s. 475 f.

[1230] Olshausen, s. 307.

[1231] Paulus, s. 474.

[1232] Paulus, s. 485; Winer, ut sup.

[1233] Olshausen, ut sup.

[1234] Ibid.

[1235] Ullmann, über die Unsündlichkeit Jesu, in seinen Studien, 1, 1,
s. 51 f.

[1236] Olshausen, ut sup.

[1237] Paulus.

[1238] Ullmann.

[1239] E.g. Woolston, Disc. 1, p. 32 ff.

[1240] Jamblich. vita Pythag. no. 36. ed. Kiessling.

[1241] In the Abhandlung über genetische oder formelle Erklärungsart
der Wunder in Henke’s Museum, 1, 3, s. 410 ff.

[1242] Exeg. Beiträge, 2, 109 ff.

[1243] Antiq. viii. ii. 5.

[1244] Philostr. v. Ap. iv. 20; ap. Baur, ut sup. s. 39.

[1245] Schulz. s. 319.

[1246] As Schulz appears to do, ut sup.

[1247] See the passages quoted by Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 569,
and by Winer, 1, s. 191 f.

[1248] Thus Fritzsche, in loc.

[1249] Schleiermacher, s. 150.

[1250] Köster, Immanuel, s. 197; Fritzsche, in loc.

[1251] De abstinent. ii. p. 204 and 417 f.; Vid. Winer, 1, s. 191.

[1252] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 471 f.

[1253] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 438; L. J. 1, a, s. 223; De Wette,
bibl. Dogm. § 222, Anm. c.

[1254] Exeg. Handb. in loc.

[1255] Natürliche Geschichte, 2, s. 429.

[1256] Bibl. Theol. 1, s. 196.

[1257] Among the transient disorders on which Jesus may have acted
psychologically, we may perhaps number the fever of Peter’s
mother-in-law, which Jesus is said to have cured, Matt. viii. 14 ff.
parall.

[1258] It is so more or less by Eichhorn, in the allg. Bibliothek, 4,
s. 435; Herder, von Gottes Sohn u. s. f., s. 20; Wegscheider, Einl. in
das Evang. Joh., s. 313; De Wette, bibl. Dogm., § 269.

[1259] Exeg. Handb., 1, b, s. 698 ff.

[1260] Ut sup. s. 705, and elsewhere.

[1261] Compare Hase, L. J., § 86.

[1262] Paulus, L. J. 1, b, s. 68.

[1263] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 215.

[1264] Vid. Winer, Realw., Art. Blinde.

[1265] Gratz, Comm z. Matth. 2, s. 323.

[1266] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 44.

[1267] Schulz, Anmerkungen zu Michaelis, 2, s. 105.

[1268] Sieffert, ut sup. s. 104.

[1269] Ueber den Zweck der evang. Geschichte und der Briefe Joh., s.
345.

[1270] Ut sup. s. 237.

[1271] Paulus, L. J. 1, a, s. 249.

[1272] Natürl. Gesch. des Propheten von Naz. 2, s. 216.

[1273] Vid. vol. i. p. 81, note.

[1274] Elsewhere also we find proof that in those times the power of
effecting miraculous cures, especially of blindness, was commonly
ascribed to men who were regarded as favourites of the Deity. Thus
Tacitus, Hist. iv. 81, and Suetonius, Vespas. vii. tell us, that in
Alexandria a blind man applied to Vespasian, shortly after he was made
emperor, alleging that he did so by the direction of the god Serapis,
with the entreaty that he would cure him of his blindness by wetting
his eyes with his spittle. Vespasian complied, and the result was that
the blind man immediately had his sight restored. As Tacitus attests
the truth of this story in a remarkable manner, Paulus is probably not
wrong in regarding the affair as the contrivance of adulatory priests,
who to procure for the emperor the fame of a miracle-worker, and by
this means to secure his favour on behalf of their god, by whose
counsel the event was occasioned, hired a man to simulate blindness.
Ex. Handb. 2, s. 56 f. However this may be, we see from the narrative
what was expected, even beyond the limits of Palestine, of a man who,
as Tacitus here expresses himself concerning Vespasian, enjoyed favor e
cœlis and an inclinatio numinum.

[1275] These are nearly the words of Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 312,
391.

[1276] De Wette, Beitrag zur Charakteristik des Evangelisten Markus, in
Ullmann’s und Umbreit’s Studien, 1, 4, 789 ff. Comp. Köster, Immanuel,
f. 72. On the other hand: comp. De Wette’s exeg. Handb. 1, 2, s. 148 f.

[1277] Pliny, H. N. xxviii. 7, and other passages in Wetstein.

[1278] Paulus, ut sup. s. 312 f. 392 ff.; Natürliche Geschichte, 3, s.
31 ff. 216 f.; Köster, Immanuel, s. 188 ff.

[1279] For the former explanation, Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 1, s, 390 f.;
for the latter, Olshausen, b, Comm. 1. s. 510.

[1280] Kuinöl, in Marc., p. 110.

[1281] Olshausen, s. 509.

[1282] Comp. De Wette, Kritik der Mosaischen Geschichte, s. 36 f.

[1283] Fritzsche, Comm. in Marc., p. xliii.

[1284] Vid. ap. Wetstein and Lightfoot, John ix. 6.

[1285] Thus Fritzsche, after Euthymius, in Marc., p. 304.

[1286] The former is the supposition of Kuinöl, the latter of Schott.

[1287] Hess, Gesch. Jesu, 1, s. 391, Anm. 1.

[1288] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 472.

[1289] Natürliche Gesch. 3, s. 215.

[1290] Vid. Tholuck and Lücke, in loc.

[1291] Vid. Paulus and Lücke, in loc.

[1292] Thus Euthymius and Paulus, in loc.

[1293] B. Comm. 2, s. 230, where, however, he refers the ἀπεσταλμένος
to the outflow of the spirit proceeding from God.

[1294] S. 93.

[1295] Köster, Immanuel, s. 79; Bretschneider, Probab., s. 122.

[1296] Wetstein, in loc.

[1297] Nedarim f. xli. 1. (Schöttgen, 1, p. 93): Dixit R. Chija fil.
Abba: nullus ægrotus a morbo suo sanatur, donec ipsi omnia peccata
remissa sint.

[1298] Hase, L. J. § 73. Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 335.

[1299] Sanhedr. f. xci. 2, and Bereschith Rabba f. xxxviii. 1.
(Lightfoot, p. 1050): Antonius interrogavit Rabbi (Judam): a quonam
tempore incipit malus affectus prævalere in homine? an a tempore
formationis ejus (in utero), an a tempore processionis ejus (ex utero)?
Dicit ei Rabbi: a tempore formationis ejus.

[1300] Paulus Comm. 4, s. 264; Lücke, 2, s. 22.

[1301] This is done by Tholuck, in loc.

[1302] See the examples in Wetstein, N. T. 1, s. 284, and in Wahl’s
Clavis.

[1303] Comp. Winer, Realw., and Fritzsche, in Matt. p. 194.

[1304] Winer, ut sup. Art. Dach.

[1305] Lightfoot, p. 601.

[1306] Woolston, Disc. 4.

[1307] 1, s. 310 f.

[1308] Köster, Immanuel, s. 166, Anm. 66.

[1309] This appears to be the meaning of Paulus, L. J. 1, a, s. 238.
Otherwise exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 505.

[1310] Thus Lightfoot, Kuinöl, Olshausen, in loc.

[1311] Vid. Fritzsche, in Marc., p. 52.

[1312] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 498, 501.

[1313] Bengel, Gnomon, 1, 245, ed. 2. Paulus, s. 502, again takes an
obvious fable in Livy ii. 36 for a history, capable of a natural
explanation.

[1314] Paulus, ut sup. s. 501.

[1315] Ueber den Zweck der evang. Geschichte und der Briefe Joh., s.
351 f.

[1316] Schulz, ut sup. s. 317; Olshausen, 1, s. 322.

[1317] Exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 524 f.; bibl. Comm. 1, s. 324 f.; comp.
Köster, Immanuel, s. 201 ff.

[1318] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 524 f. 530. L. J. 1, a, s. 244 f.;
Venturini, 2, s. 204 ff.; Köster, ut sup.

[1319] Vid. Evangelium infantiæ arabicum, ap. Fabricius and Thilo.

[1320] See the observations of Paulus, Lücke, Tholuck, and Olshausen,
in loc.

[1321] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 92.

[1322] Augustin, de consens. evang. i. 20; Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b,
s. 709; Köster, Immanuel, s. 63.

[1323] Ueber den Zweck Jesu, u. s. f., s. 351.

[1324] Vid. Lücke, 1, s. 552.

[1325] Fritzsche, in Matth. p. 310: discrepat autem Lucas ita a Matthæi
narratione, ut centurionem non ipsum venisse ad Jesum, sed per legatos
cum eo egisse tradat; quibus dissidentibus pacem obtrudere, boni nego
interpretis esse.

[1326] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 92 f.

[1327] Kuinöl, in Matt., p. 221 f.

[1328] Tholuck, in loc.; Hase § 68, Anm. 2.

[1329] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 253 f.; Venturini, 2, s. 140 ff.; comp.
Hase, § 68.

[1330] Lücke, 1, s. 550 f.

[1331] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 710 f.; Natürliche Geschichte, 2,
s. 285 ff.

[1332] Clem. homil. ix. 21; Fritzsche, in Matth., 313.

[1333] Wetstein, N. T. 1, p. 349; comp. Olshausen, in loc.

[1334] Köster, Immanuel, s. 195, Anm.

[1335] Lücke, 1, s. 550.

[1336] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 268.

[1337] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 80 f.

[1338] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung, u. s. f., s. 50.

[1339] Schleiermacher, ut sup.

[1340] Exeg. Handb. 2, s. 48 ff.

[1341] Natürliche Geschichte, 2, s. 421.

[1342] Winer, b. Realw. 1, s. 796.

[1343] Paulus, ut sup. s. 49, 54; Köster, Immanuel, s. 185 f.

[1344] Ut sup. s. 83, ex Tract. Schabbat.

[1345] Schabbat, f. 12, ap. Schöttgen, i. p. 123.

[1346] See the passage last cited.

[1347] Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 427; in Mar., p. 79.

[1348]

1 Kings xiii. 4, LXX: καὶ ἰδοὺ Matth. xii. 10: καὶ ἰδοὺ ἄνθρωπος
ἐξηράνθη ἡ χεὶρ αὐτοῦ. ἐ͂ν τὴν χεῖρα ἔχων ξηράν (Mark,
ἐξηραμμένην.)
6: καὶ ἐπέστρεψε τὴν χεῖρα τοῦ
βασιλέως πρὸς αὐτὸν, καὶ ἐγένετο 13: τότε λέγει τῷ ἀνθρωπῳ· ἔκτεινον
καθὼς τὸ πρότερον. τὴν χεῖρα σου· καὶ ἐξέτεινε· καὶ
ἀποκατεστάθη ὑγιὴς ὡς ἡ ἄλλη.

[1349] Tacit. Hist. iv. 81.

[1350] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 341 f.

[1351] Ut sup. s. 196.

[1352] Winer (bibl. Realw. 1, s. 796) says: We should be contented to
refrain from seeking a natural explanation in individual cases (of the
cures of Jesus), and ever bear in mind that the banishment of the
miraculous out of the agency of Jesus can never be effected so long as
the gospels are regarded historically.

[1353] Disc. 3.

[1354] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 263 ff. L. J. 1, a, s. 298.

[1355] Vid. Lücke and Tholuck, in loc.

[1356] Comp. with Comm. 4, s. 290, his Leben Jesu, 1, a, s. 298.

[1357] Bretschneider, Probab., s. 69.

[1358] As by Hase, L. J. § 92.

[1359]

Mark ii. 9: (τί ἐστιν, εὐκοπώτερον, John v. 8: ἔγειραι, ἆρον τὸν
εἰπεῖν——) ἔγειραι, καὶ ἆρόν σου τὸν κράββατόν σου, καὶ περιπάτει.
κράββατον καὶ περιπάτει;

11:—ἔγειρα καὶ ἆρον τὸν κράββατόν σου 9: καὶ εὐθέως ἐγένετο ὑγιὴς ὁ
καὶ ὕπαγε εἰς τὸν οἶκόν σου. ἄνθρωπος, καὶ ἦρε τὸν
κράββατον αὑτοῦ καὶ
12: καὶ ἠγέρθη εὐθέως, καὶ ὤρας τὸν περιεπάτει.
κράββατον ἐξῆλθεν ἐναντίον πάντων.

[1360] Ueber den Zweck des Evang. und der Briefe Joh., s. 351 ff.

[1361] Comm. in Matth. p. 263. Observe his argumentation: verba [N.B.
Matthaei]: ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν, non possunt latine reddi: jam mortua est:
nam, auctore [N.B. Luca] patri adhuc cum Christo colloquenti nuntiabat
servus, filiam jam exspirasse; ergo [auctore Matthaeo?] nondum mortua
erat, cum pater ad Jesum accederet.

[1362] Compare, on the subject of these vain attempts at
reconciliation, Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 132, and Fritzsche,
in Matth., p. 347 f.

[1363] Olshausen, in loc.

[1364] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 131 ff.; Schulz, über d. Abendmahl,
s. 316 f.

[1365] Vid. Fabricius, Cod. Apocr. N. T. 2, p. 449 ff.

[1366] Homil. ii. 19.

[1367] Cap. x.

[1368] Ut sup. s. 129.

[1369] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 526, 31 f.; Schleiermacher, ut
sup. s. 132; Olshausen, 1, s. 327. Even Neander does not express
himself decidedly against this interpretation of the words of Jesus;
while with regard to the girl’s real condition, he thinks the
supposition of a merely apparent death probable. L. J. Chr., s. 343.
Comp. 338 f.

[1370] Comp. de Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 95; Weisse, die ev.
Geschichte, 1, s. 503.

[1371] Comp. Neander. L. J., s. 342.

[1372] Natürliche Geschichte, 2, s. 212.

[1373] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 1, b, s. 716, Anm. and 719 f.

[1374] Ibid, ut sup. s. 723. Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 2, s. 47.

[1375] Thus Hase also, L. J. § 87.

[1376] Venturini, 2, s. 293.

[1377] Comp. Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 103 f.

[1378] Paulus, Comp. 4, s. 535 ff.; L. J. 1, b, s. 55 ff.

[1379] Im the translation of the text in his Leben Jesu, 2, b, s. 46,
Paulus appears to suppose, beside the message mentioned in the gospel,
three subsequent messages.

[1380] Comp. C. Ch. Flatt, etwas zur Vertheidigung des Wunders der
Wiederbelebung des Lazarus, in Süskind’s Magazin, 14tes Stück, s. 93
ff.

[1381] Journal für auserlesene theol. Literatur, 3, 2, s. 261, Anm.

[1382] Flatt, ut sup. 102 f.; De Wette, in loc.; Neander, s. 351 f.

[1383] Flatt, ut sup.; Lücke, Tholuck and De Wette, in loc.

[1384] Lücke, 2, s. 388.

[1385] Flatt, ut sup. s. 104 f.; Lücke, ut sup.

[1386] Flatt, s. 106; Olshausen, 2, s. 269.

[1387] Flatt, s. 97 f.

[1388] Compare on this subject, especially Flatt and Lücke.

[1389] Comm. 4, s. 437; in the L. J. 1, b, s. 57, and 2, b, s. 46, this
conjecture is no longer employed.

[1390] Ut sup. s. 272 ff. Even Neander shows himself not disinclined to
such a conjecture as far as regards v. 4 (s. 349). As Gabler believes
that these expressions cannot have come from Jesus, but only from John,
so Dieffenbach, in Bertholdt’s Krit. Journal, 5, s. 7 ff., maintains
that they cannot have proceeded from John, and as he holds that the
rest of the gospel is the production of that apostle, he pronounces
those passages to be interpolations.

[1391] Disc. 5.

[1392] Bretschneider, Probab., s. 61.

[1393] 1, s. 276 f.

[1394] Comm. 2, s. 376. Also Neander, s. 346.

[1395] Tholuck, s. 202; Olshausen, 2, s. 260.

[1396] Ut sup.

[1397] Andachtsbuch, 1, s. 292 f. Exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 134.

[1398] S. 59 f. 79.

[1399] Comp. de Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 135.

[1400] This is what Neander maintains, L. J. Chr., s. 354. He objects
that the fourth Evangelist must in any case have known of
resuscitations of the dead by Jesus, even supposing the narrative in
question to be an unhistorical exaggeration. But this objection is
refuted by the observation, that, as an inducement to the formation of
such a narrative, the general tradition that Jesus had raised the dead
would be sufficient, and an acquaintance with particular instances as
exemplars was not at all requisite.

[1401] This argument applies also to De Wette, who, while acknowledging
that such an idea would be unsuitable in the mouth of Jesus, supposes
nevertheless that it was really in his mind.

[1402] Dieffenbach, über einige wahrscheinliche Interpolationen im
Evangelium Johannis, in Bertholdt’s krit. Journal, 5, s. 8 f.

[1403] Comm. z. Joh., 1te Aufl., 2, s. 310.

[1404] Thus the author of the Probabilia also argues, p. 61.

[1405] Disc. 5.

[1406] Comp. Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 103 ff.

[1407] Saunier, über die quellen des Markus, s. 66 ff.

[1408] Comp. Winer bibl. Realw. d. A.

[1409] Let the reader recollect the well-known expression of Spinoza.

[1410] Whitby, Annot. in loc.

[1411] Thus Grotius and Herder; Olshausen also adopts this explanation
under the form of conjecture, 2, s. 256 f., Anm.

[1412] See these arguments dispersed in Paulus and Lücke on this
chapter; in Gabler, ut sup. p. 238 ff.; and Hase, L. J. § 119.—A new
reason why Matthew in particular is silent on the resurrection of
Lazarus, has been excogitated by Heydenreich (über die Unzulässigkeit
der mythischen Auffassung, 2tes Stück, s. 42). The Evangelist, he says,
omitted it, because it required to be represented and treated with a
tenderness and liveliness of feeling, of which he did not think himself
capable. Hence, the modest man chose to avoid the history altogether
rather than to deprive it by his manner of narration, of its proper
pathos and sublimity.—Idle modesty truly!

[1413] Schneckenburger, über den Urspr., s. 10.

[1414] Gabler, ut sup. s. 240 f.; also Neander, s. 357.

[1415] Comm. z. Joh. 2, s. 402.

[1416] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 139. In Schleiermacher’s
Lectures on the Life of Jesus (if I may be permitted to refer to a work
not yet printed), the silence in question is explained in the following
manner. The synoptical Evangelists in general were ignorant of the
relations of Jesus with the family of Bethany, because perhaps the
apostles did not wish an intimate personal connection of this kind to
pass into the general tradition, from which those Evangelists drew; and
ignorance of the relations of Jesus with the family in general, of
course included ignorance of this particular fact connected with them.
But what motive could the apostles have for such reserve? Are we to
infer secret, or even, with Venturini, tender ties? Must not such a
private relation in the case of Jesus have presented much to edify us?
The intimations which John and Luke afford us on this subject contain
in fact much of this description, and from the narrative which the
latter gives of the visit of Jesus to Martha and Mary, we see also that
the apostles, in furnishing their accounts, were by no means averse to
allow something of these relations to appear, so far as they could
retain a general interest. Now in this light, the resurrection of
Lazarus, as a pre-eminent miracle, was incomparably more valuable than
that visit with its single aphorism “One thing is needful,” and
involved less of the private relations of Jesus with the family of
Bethany; the supposed effort to keep these secret, could not therefore
have hindered the promulgation of the resurrection of Lazarus.

[1417] Kern, über den Ursprung des Evang. Matth., Tübing. Zeitschrift,
1834, 2, s. 110.

[1418] Bertholdt. Christol. Jud. § 35.

[1419] See the passages quoted from Tanchuma, Vol. I. § 14.

[1420] 1 Kings xvii. 23, LXX. καί ἔδωκεν αὐτὸ τῇ μητρὶ αὑτοῦ, Luke vii.
15: καὶ ἔδωκεν αὐτὸν τῇ μητρὶ αὑτοῦ.

[1421] Thus the author of the Abhandlung über die verschiedenen
Rücksichten, in welchen der Biograph Jesu arbeiten kann, in Bertholdt’s
krit. Journ., 5, s. 237 f., Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 202.—A
resuscitation strikingly similar to that of the young man at Nain is
narrated by Philostratus, of Apollonius of Tyana. “As according to
Luke, it was a young man, the only son of a widow, who was being
carried out of the city; so, in Philostratus, it is a young maiden
already betrothed, whose bier Apollonius meets. The command to set down
the bier, the mere touch, and a few words, are sufficient here, as
there, to bring the dead to life” (Baur, Apollonius v. Tyana und
Christus, s. 145). I should like to know whether Paulus, or any other
critic, would be inclined to explain this naturally; if, however, it
ought to be regarded as an imitation of the evangelical narrative (a
conclusion which can hardly be avoided), we must have a preconceived
opinion of the character of the books of the New Testament, to evade
the consequence, that the resuscitations of the dead which they contain
are only less designed imitations of those in the Old Testament; which
are themselves to be derived from the belief of antiquity, that a
victorious power over death was imparted to the favourites of the gods
(Hercules, Esculapius, etc), and more immediately, from the Jewish idea
of a prophet.

[1422] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 287.

[1423] Thus Paulus, exeg. Handb., 1, b, s. 468 ff.; Venturini, 2, s.
166 ff.; Kaiser, bibl. Theol., 1, s. 197. Hase, also, § 74, thinks this
view probable.

[1424] Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 363, who for the rest here offers but a
weak defence against the natural explanation.

[1425] Hase, ut sup.

[1426] Vid. Vol. 1, § 14, note 9.

[1427] Neander alters the fact, when he describes Jesus as falling
asleep in the midst of the fury of the storm and the waves, and thus
manifesting a tranquillity of soul which no terror of nature could
disturb (s. 362). Luke says expressly, as they sailed he fell asleep:
and there came down a storm, etc., πλεόντων δὲ αὐτῶν ἀφὺπνωσε· καὶ
κατέβη λαίλαψ κ.τ.λ., and according to the representation of the other
Evangelists also, the sleeping of Jesus appears to have preceded the
breaking out of the storm, since otherwise the timorous disciples would
not have awaked him—they would rather not have allowed him to go to
sleep.

[1428] Comp Saunier, über die Quellen des Markus, s. 82.

[1429] This may serve as an answer to Tholuck’s accusation,
Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 110.

[1430] Ueber den Ursprung, u. s. f., s. 68 f.

[1431] According to Jamblich. vita Pyth, 135, ed. Kiessling, there were
narrated of Pythagoras, ἀνέμων βιαίων χαλαζῶν τε χύσεως παραυτίκα
κατευνήσεις καὶ κυμάτων ποταμίων τε καὶ θαλασσίων ἀπευδιασμοὶ πρὸς
εὐμαρῆ τῶν ἑταίρων διάβασιν, instantaneous tranquillizings of violent
winds and hailstorms, and soothings of the waves of rivers and seas, to
afford easy transit to his companions. Comp. Porphyr. v. p. 29 same ed.

[1432] Ut sup. s. 491.

[1433] Paulus, Memorabilien, 6, Stuck, No. V.; exeg. Handb. 2, s. 238
ff.

[1434] Against the extremely arbitrary expedient which Paulus has here
adopted, see Storr, Opusc. acad. 3, p. 288.

[1435] The former by Bolten, Bericht des Matthäus, in loc; the latter
in Henke’s neuem Magazin, 6, 2, s. 327 ff.

[1436] Comp. Paulus and Fritzsche, in loc.

[1437] See the excellent passage in Fritzsche, Comm. in Matth., p. 505.

[1438] Mark’s inclination to exaggerate shows itself also in his
concluding sentence, v. 51, (comp. vii. 37): and they were sore amazed
in themselves beyond measure and wondered; which will scarcely be
understood to import, as Paulus supposes (2, s. 266), a disapproval of
the excessive astonishment.

[1439] Schneckenburger, über den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 68 f.; Weisse,
die evang. Geschichte, 1, s. 521.

[1440] Vid. Lücke and Tholuck.

[1441] Homil. in Joann. 43.

[1442] In De Wette’s objection, that the opinion of an exaggeration of
the miracle in John, is discountenanced by the addition that they were
immediately at the land (ex. Handb. 1, 3, s. 79), there appears to me
only a misunderstanding; but his assertion that in John the manner in
which Jesus goes over the sea is not represented as a miracle (s. 78),
is to me thoroughly incomprehensible.

[1443] Bretschneider, Probab., p. 81.

[1444] See the passages in Wetstein, p. 417 f.

[1445] Jamblich, vita Pythagoræ, 136; comp. Porphyr. 29.

[1446] Lucian, Philopseudes, 13.

[1447] Schneckenburger, über den Urspr., s. 68.

[1448] See the examples in Wetstein, in loc.

[1449] Die h. Schrift des n. Bundes, 1, s. 314, 2te Aufl.

[1450] Paulus, ex. Handb. 2, 502 ff. Comp. Hase, L. J. § 111.

[1451] Comp. Storr, in Flatt’s Magazin, 2, s. 68 ff.

[1452] Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 200. Comp. Hase, ut sup.

[1453] Olshausen, 1, s. 512. This theologian, in the note on the same
page, observes, that according to the words, We have taken no bread,
Matt. xvi. 7, the disciples, even after the second feeding, were not
alive to the fact, that there was no necessity for providing themselves
with food for the body in the neighbourhood of the Son of Man. But this
instance is not to the point, for the circumstances are here altogether
different. That from the miraculous feeding of the people when they
were accidentally belated in the wilderness, the disciples did not draw
the same convenient conclusion with the biblical commentator, can only
redound to their honour.

[1454] Ibid.

[1455] Gratz, Comm. z. Matth. 2, s. 90 f.; Sieffert, über den Ursprung,
s. 97.

[1456] Thiesz, Krit. Commentar, 1, s. 168 ff.; Schulz, über das
Abendmahl, s. 311. Comp. Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 523.

[1457] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 145; Sieffert, ut sup. s. 95
ff.; Hase, § 97. Neander is undecided, L. J. Chr., s. 372 ff., Anm.

[1458] Comp. Saunier, ut sup. s. 105.

[1459] Paulus, ex. Handb. 2, s. 315; Olshausen, ut sup.

[1460] Olshausen, s. 513.

[1461] See the proof in De Wette, Kritik der mos. Gesch., s. 220 ff.,
314 ff.

[1462] Thus Olshausen, in loc. after Pfenninger. Comp. Hase, § 97.

[1463] This lamentable observation of mine, according to Olshausen, has
its source in something worse than intellectual incapacity, namely, in
my total disbelief in a living God: otherwise assuredly it would not
have appeared so great a difficulty to me that the Divine causality
should have superseded human operations (s. 479, der 3ten Aufl.).

[1464] Jesus Messias, 2, Bd. No. 14, 15 and 20.

[1465] For this reason Neander (s. 377) passes over the miracle with a
few entirely general remarks.

[1466] Exeg. Handb. 2, s. 205 ff.

[1467] Olshausen, in loc.

[1468] Against Neander’s attempt at reconciliation, compare De Wette,
exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 77.

[1469] This indication has been recently followed up by Weisse. He
finds the key to the history of the miraculous multiplication of the
loaves, in the question addressed by Jesus to the disciples when they
misunderstand his admonition against the leaven of the Pharisees and
Sadducees. He asks them whether they did not remember how many baskets
they had been able to fill from the five and again from the seven
loaves, and then adds, How is it that ye do not understand that I spake
it not to you concerning bread, etc. (Matt. xvi. 11). Now, says Weisse,
the parallel which Jesus here institutes between his discourse on the
leaven, and the history of the feeding of the multitude, shows that the
latter also is only to be interpreted parabolically (s. 511 ff.). But
the form of the question of Jesus: πόσους κοφίνους (σπυρίδας) ἐλάβετε;
how many baskets ye took up, presupposes a real event; we can form no
conception, as we have already remarked in relation to the history of
the temptation, of a parable in which Jesus and his disciples would
have played a principal part; moreover, the inference which Jesus would
convey is, according to the text, not that because the present
narrative was figurative, so also must be the interpretation of the
subsequent discourse, but that after the earlier proof how superfluous
was any solicitude about physical bread where Jesus was at hand, it was
absurd to understand his present discourse as relating to such.

[1470] Vid. Vol. I. § 14.

[1471]

2 Kings iv. 43, LXX.: τί δῶ John vi. 9: ἀλλὰ ταῦτα τί ἐστιν εἰς
τοῦτο ἔνώπιον ἑκατὸν ἀνδρῶν; τοσούτους;
Ibid. v. 44: καὶ ἕφαγον, καὶ Matt. xiv. 20: καὶ ἔφαγον πάντες,
κατέλιπον κατὰ τὸ ῥῆμα Κυρίου. καὶ ἐχορτάσθησαν, καὶ ἦραν τὸ
περισσεῦον τῶν κλασμάτων, κ.τ.λ.

[1472] Exeg. Handb. 2, s. 237 f.

[1473] Joma f. 39, 1: Tempore Simeonis justi benedictio erat super duos
panes pentecostales et super decem panes προθέσεως, ut singuli
sacerdotes, qui pro rata parte acciperent quantitatem olivæ, ad
satietatem comederent, imo ut adhuc reliquiæ superessent.

[1474] Comp. De Wette, ex Handb. 1, 1, s. 133 f.

[1475] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 74.

[1476] Neander is of opinion that an analogy may be found for this
miracle yet more easily than for that of the loaves—in the mineral
springs, the water of which is rendered so potent by natural agencies,
that it produces effects which far exceed those of ordinary water, and
in part resemble those of wine! (s. 369.)

[1477] In Joann. tract. 8: Ipse vinum fecit in nuptiis, qui omni anno
hoc facit in vitibus.

[1478] Thus Augustine, ut sup. approved by Olshausen: sicut enim, quod
miserunt ministri in hydrias in vinum conversum est opere Domini, sic
et quod nubes fundunt, in vinum convertitur ejusdem opere Domini.

[1479] Even Lücke, 1, s. 405, thinks the analogy with the above natural
process deficient and unintelligible, and does not know how to console
himself better than by the consideration, that a similar inconvenience
exists in relation to the miracle of the loaves.

[1480] Chrysost. hom. in Joann. 21.

[1481] Woolston, Disc. 4.

[1482] P. 42.

[1483] Tholuck, in loc.

[1484] Comm. 4, s. 151 f.

[1485] Von Gottes Sohn u. s. f. nach Johannes Evangelium, s. 131 f.

[1486] C. Ch. Flatt, über die Verwandlung des Wassers in Wein, in
Süskind’s Magazin, 14. Stück, s. 86 f.; Olshausen, ut sup. s. 75 f.;
comp. Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 372.

[1487] Olshausen, ut sup.

[1488] Lücke also thinks this symbolical interpretation too
far-fetched, and too little supported by the tone of the narrative, s.
406. Comp. De Wette, ex. Handb. 1, 3, s. 37.

[1489] [A Wirtemberg wine Maas, or measure, is equal to about 3½ pints
English, or more exactly 3·32.—Tr.]

[1490] Wurm, de ponderum, mensurarum etc. rationibus, ap. Rom. et
Græc., p. 123, 126. Comp. Lücke, in loc.

[1491] Homil. in Joann. in loc.

[1492] Tholuck, in loc.

[1493] This argument is valid against Neander also, who appeals to the
faith of Mary chiefly as a result of the solemn inauguration at the
baptism (s. 370).

[1494] Hess, Gesch. Jesu, 1, s. 135. Comp. also Calvin, in loc.

[1495] E.g. by Woolston, ut sup.

[1496] Flatt, ut sup. s. 90; Tholuck, in loc.

[1497] Olshausen, in loc.

[1498] Comp. also the Probabilia, p. 41 f.

[1499] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 150 ff.; L. J. 1, a, s. 169 ff.; Natürliche
Gesch. 2, s. 61 ff.

[1500] Compare on this point, Flatt, ut sup. s. 77 ff. and Lücke, in
loc.

[1501] He makes the word μεθύσκεσθαι, v. 10, refer to John also.

[1502] Lücke, s. 407.

[1503] Bibl. Theol. 1, s. 200.

[1504] In the passages cited Vol. I. § 14, out of Midrasch Koheleth, it
is said among other things: Goël primus—ascendere fecit puteum: sic
quoque Goël postremus ascendere faciet aquas, etc.

[1505] A natural explanation of this miracle is given by Josephus in a
manner worthy of notice, Antiq. iii. 1, 2.

[1506] We may also remind the reader of the transmutation of water into
oil, which Eusebius (H. E. vi. 9.) narrates of a Christian bishop.

[1507] Compare the Probabilia, ut sup.

[1508] De Wette thinks the analogies adduced from the Old Testament too
remote; according to him, the metamorphosis of wine into water by
Bacchus, instanced by Wetstein, would be nearer to the subject, and not
far from the region of Greek thought, out of which the gospel of John
arose. The most analogous mythical derivation of the narrative would be
to regard this supply of wine as the counterpart to the supply of
bread, and both as corresponding to the bread and wine in the last
supper. But, he continues, the mythical view is opposed, 1, by the not
yet overthrown authenticity of the fourth gospel; 2, by the fact that
the narrative bears less of a legendary than a subjective impress, by
the obscurity that rests upon it, and its want of one presiding idea,
together with the abundance of practical ideas worthy of Jesus which it
embodies. By these observations De Wette seems to intimate his approval
of a natural explanation, built on the self-deception of John; an
explanation which is encumbered with the difficulties above noticed.

[1509] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 157 ff.

[1510] L. J. § 128.

[1511] Augustin. de verbis Domini in ev. sec. Joann., sermo 44: Quid
arbor fecerat, fructum non afferendo? quæ culpa arboris infæcunditas?

[1512] Disc. 4.

[1513] Orig. Comm. in Matt., Tom. xvi. 29: Ὁ δὲ Μάρκος ἀναγράψας τὰ
κατὰ τὸν τόπον, ἀπεμφαῖνόν τι ὡς πρὸς τὸ ῥητὸν προσέθηκε, ποιήσας,
ὅτι—οὐ γὰρ ἦν καιρὸς σύκων.—Εἴποι γὰρ ἃν τις· εἰ μὴ ὁ καιρὸς σύκων ἦν,
πῶς ἦλθεν ὁ Ἰ. ὡς εὑρήσων τι ἐν αὐτῇ. καὶ πῶς δικαίως εἶπεν αὐτῇ·
μηκέτι εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα ἐκ σοῦ μηδεὶς καρπὸν φάγῃ; comp. Augustin ut sup.
Mark, in relating this event, adds something which seems not to tally
well with his statement, when he observes that it was not the season
for figs. It might be urged: if it was not the season for figs, why
should Jesus go and look for fruit on the tree, and how could he, with
justice, say to it, Let no man eat fruit of thee for ever?

[1514] Toupii emendd. in Suidam, 1, p. 330 f.

[1515] Heinsius and others, ap. Fritzsche, in loc.

[1516] Maji Obs., ib.

[1517] Dahme, in Henke’s n. Magazin, 2. Bd. 2. Heft, s. 252. Kuinöl, in
Marc, p. 150 f.

[1518] Vid. Kuinöl, in loc.

[1519] Paulus, exeg. Handb., 3, a, s. 175; Olshausen, b, Comm. 1, s.
782.

[1520] As Sieffert thinks, Ueber den Urspr., s. 113 ff. Compare my
reviews, in the Charakteristiken und Kritiken, s. 272.

[1521] Vid. Paulus, ut sup. s. 168 f.; Winer, b. Realw. d. A.
Feigenbaum.

[1522] Bell. Jud. III. x. 8.

[1523] Ullman, über die Unsündlichkeit Jesu, in his Studien, 1, s. 50;
Sieffert, ut sup. s. 115 ff.; Olshausen, 1, s. 783 f.; Neander, L. J.
Chr., s. 378.

[1524] Paulus, ut sup. s. 170; Hase, L. J. § 128; also Sieffert, ut
sup.

[1525] Heydenreich, in the Theol. Nachrichten, 1814, Mai., s. 121 ff.

[1526] Comm. in Matt. p. 637.

[1527] Comm., in Marc. p. 481: Male—vv. dd. in eo hæserunt, quod Jesus
sine ratione innocentem ficum aridam reddidisse videretur, mirisque
argutiis usi sunt, ut aliquod hujus rei consilium fuisse ostenderent.
Nimirum apostoli, evangelistæ et omnes primi temporis Christiani, qua
erant ingeniorum simplicitate, quid quantumque Jesus portentose fecisse
diceretur, curarunt tantummodo, non quod Jesu in edendo miraculo
consilium fuerit, subtiliter et argute quæsi verunt.

[1528] Μὴ ἀκριβολογοῦ διατί τετιμώρηται τὸ φυτὸν, ἀναίτιον ὄν· ἀλλὰ
μόνον ὂρα τὸ θαῦμα, καὶ θαύμαζε τὸν θαυματουργόν.

[1529] Ambrosius, Comm. in Luc, in loc. Neander adopts this opinion, ut
sup.

[1530] Conceptions of the narrative in the main accordant with that
here given, may be found in De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 176 f.; 1,
2, s. 174 f., and Weisse, die evang. Gesch., 1, s. 576 f.

[1531] Vom Erlöser der Menschen nach unsern drei ersten Evangelien, s.
114.

[1532] In a treatise on the history of the Transfiguration, in his
neuesten theol. Journal, 1. Bd. 5. Stück, s. 517 ff. Comp. Bauer, hebr.
Mythol. 2, s. 233 ff.

[1533] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 534 f.

[1534] Olshausen, ut sup. s. 537.

[1535] Olshausen, 1, s. 539; comp. s. 178.

[1536] Thus Tertull. adv. Marcion, iv. 22; Herder, ut sup. 115 f., with
whom also Gratz agrees. Comm. z. Matth. 2, s. 163 f., 169.

[1537] Comp. Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 552; Olshausen, 1, s. 523.

[1538] Olshausen, ut sup.

[1539] Rau, symbola ad illustrandam Evv. de metamorphosi J. Chr.
narrationem; Gabler, ut sup. s. 539 ff.; Kuinöl, Comm. z. Matth. p. 459
ff.; Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 474 f.

[1540] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 319; Schleiermacher, über den
Lukas, s. 148 f.; comp. also Köster, Immanuel, s. 60 f.

[1541] Bauer has discerned this, ut sup. s. 237; Fritzsche, p. 556; De
Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 2, s. 56 f.; Weisse, die evang. Gesch. 1, s.
536; and Paulus also partly, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 447 f.

[1542] Paulus, exeg. Handb., 2, 436 ff.; L. J. 1, b, s. 7 ff.;
Natürliche Geschichte, 3, s. 256 ff.

[1543] Ut sup.

[1544] Paulus, exeg. Handb., s. 446; Gratz, 2, s. 165 f.

[1545] Comp. De Wette, Einleitung in das N. T. § 79.

[1546] Thus Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 62 ff.

[1547] Neander, because he considers the objective reality of the
transfiguration doubtful, also finds the silence of the fourth
Evangelist a difficulty in this instance (s. 475 f.).

[1548] Olshausen, s. 533, Anm.

[1549] Vid. Rau, in the Programme quoted in Gabler, neuestes theolog.
Journal, 1, 3, s. 506; De Wette, in loc. Matth.

[1550] Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 553; Olshausen, 1, s. 541. Still less
satisfactory expedients in Gabler, ut sup. and in Matthäi, Religionsgl.
der Apostel, 2, s. 596.

[1551] This even Paulus admits, 2, s. 442.

[1552] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 149.

[1553] This is an answer to Weisse’s objection, s. 539.

[1554] Comp. Jalkut Simeoni, p. 2 f. x. 3, (ap. Wetstein, p. 435):
Facies justorum futuro tempore similes erunt soli et luna, cælo et
stellis, fulguri, etc.

[1555] Bereschith Rabba, xx. 29, (ap. Wetstein): Vestes lucis vestes
Adami primi. Pococke, ex Nachmanide (ibid.): Fulgida facta fuit facies
Mosis instar solis, Josuæ instar lunæ; quod idem affirmarunt veteres de
Adamo.

[1556] In Pirke Elieser, ii. there is, according to Wetstein, the
following statement: inter docendum radios ex facie ipsius, ut olim e
Mosis facie, prodiisse, adeo ut non dignosceret quis, utrum dies esset
an nox.

[1557] Nizzachon vetus, p. 40, ad Exod. xxxiv. 33 (ap. Wetstein): Ecce
Moses magister noster felicis memoriæ, qui homo merus erat, quia Deus
de facie ad faciem cum eo locutus est, vultum tam lucentem retulit, ut
Judæi vererentur accedere: quanto igitur magis de ipsa divinitate hoc
tenere oportet, atque Jesu faciem ob uno orbis cardine ad alterum
fulgorem diffundere conveniebat? At non præditus fuit ullo splendore,
sed reliquis mortalibus fuit simillimus. Qua propter constat, non esse
in eum credendum.

[1558] From this parallel with the ascent of the mountain by Moses may
perhaps be derived the interval—the ἡμέραι ἓξ—by which the two first
Evangelists separate the present event from the discourses detailed in
the foregoing chapter. For the history of the adventures of Moses on
the mountain begins with a like statement of time, it being said that
after the cloud had covered the mountain six days, Moses was called to
Jehovah (v. 16). Although the point of departure was a totally
different one, this statement of time might be retained for the opening
of the scene of transfiguration in the history of Jesus.

[1559] Vide Bertholdt, Christologia Judæorum, § 15, s. 60 ff.

[1560] Debarim Rabba, iii. (Wetstein): Dixit Deus S. B. Mosi: per vitam
tuam, quemadmodum vitam tuam posuisti pro Israelitis in hoc mundo, ita
tempore futuro, quando Eliam prophetam ad ipsos mittam, vos quo eodem
tempore venietis. Comp. Tanchuma f. xlii. 1, ap. Schöttgen 1, s. 149.

[1561] This narrative is pronounced to be a mythus by De Wette, Kritik
der mos. Gesch. s. 250; comp. exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 146 f.; Bertholdt,
Christologia Jud. § 15, not. 17; Credner, Einleitung in das N. T. 1, s.
241; Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 319, at least admits that there is
more or less of the mythical in the various evangelical accounts of the
transfiguration, and Fritzsche, in Matt. p. 448 f. and 456 adduces the
mythical view of this event not without signs of approval. Compare also
Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 459, and Gratz, 2, s. 161 ff.

[1562] Plato also in the Symposion (p. 223, B. ff. Steph.), glorifies
his Socrates by arranging in a natural manner, and in a comic spirit, a
similar group to that which the Evangelists here present in a
supernatural manner, and in a tragic spirit. After a bacchanalian
entertainment, Socrates outwatches his friends, who lie sleeping around
him: as here the disciples around their master; with Socrates there are
awake two noble forms alone, the tragic and the comic poet, the two
elements of the early Grecian life, which Socrates united in himself:
as, with Jesus, the lawgiver and prophet, the two pillars of the Old
Testament economy, which in a higher manner were combined in Jesus;
lastly, as in Plato both Agathon and Aristophanes at length sleep, and
Socrates remains alone in possession of the field: so in the gospel,
Moses and Elias at last vanish, and the disciples see Jesus left alone.

[1563] Weisse, not satisfied with the interpretation found by me in the
mythus, and labouring besides to preserve an historical foundation for
the narrative, understands it as a figurative representation in the
oriental manner, by one of the three eye-witnesses, of the light which
at that time arose on them concerning the destination of Jesus, and
especially concerning his relation to the Old Testament theocracy and
to the messianic prophecies. According to him, the high mountain
symbolizes the height of knowledge which the disciples then attained;
the metamorphosis of the form of Jesus, and the splendour of his
clothes, are an image of their intuition of the spiritual messianic
idea; the cloud which overshadowed the appearance, signifies the
dimness and indefiniteness in which the new knowledge faded away, from
the inability of the disciples yet to retain it; the proposal of Peter
to build tabernacles, is the attempt of this apostle at once to give a
fixed dogmatical form to the sublime intuition. Weisse is fearful (s.
543) that this his conception of the history of the transfiguration may
also be pronounced mythical: I think not; it is too manifestly
allegorical.

[1564] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 160.

[1565] Kuinöl and Gratz, in loc.

[1566] Thus e.g. Lightfoot, in loc.

[1567] Wetstein, Olshausen, in loc., Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 164,
214.

[1568] Vid. De Wette, in loc.

[1569] Fritzsche, in Marc. p. 415: Marcus Matthæi, xix. 1, se
auctoritati h. l. adstringit, dicitque, Jesum e Galilæa (cf. ix. 33)
profectum esse per Peraeam. Sed auctore Luca, xvii. 11, in Judæam
contendit per Samariam itinere brevissimo.

[1570] Paulus, 2, s. 293, 554. Comp. Olshausen, 1, s. 583.

[1571] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 159.

[1572] Paulus, 2, s. 294 ff.

[1573] Paulus, ut sup. 295 f., 584 f.

[1574] Schleiermacher, ut sup. s. 161 f.; Sieffert, über den Urspr., s.
104 ff. With the former agrees, in relation to Luke, Olshausen, ut sup.

[1575] Tholuck, Comm. z. Joh., s. 227; Olshausen, 1, s. 771 f.

[1576] Tholuck and Olshausen, ut sup.

[1577] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 92 ff., 98 ff.; Schleiermacher,
über den Lukas, s. 244 f.

[1578] Schleiermacher, ut sup.

[1579] Comp. Lücke, 2, s. 432, Anm.

[1580] Hase, L. J. § 124.

[1581] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 172.

[1582] Paulus, 3, a, s. 115; Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 541.

[1583] Olshausen, 1, s. 776.

[1584] Comm. in Matth., p. 630. His expedient is approved by De Wette,
exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 173.

[1585] Paulus, ut sup. s. 143 f.

[1586] Glassius, phil. sacr., p. 172. Thus also Kuinöl and Gratz, in
loc.

[1587] N. T. Gramm., s. 149.

[1588] Eichhorn, allgem. Bibliothek, 5, s. 896 f.; comp. Bolten,
Bericht des Matthäus, s. 317 f.

[1589] Vide Fritzsche, in loc. This is admitted by Neander also, s.
550, Anm.

[1590] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 310 f.; Sieffert, über den
Urspr., s. 107 f.

[1591] That the above motive will not suffice to explain the conduct of
Jesus, Paulus has also felt; for only the despair on his part of
finding a more real and special motive, can account for his becoming in
this solitary instance mystical, and embracing the explanation of
Justin Martyr, whom he elsewhere invariably attacks, as the author of
the perverted ecclesiastical interpretations of the Bible. According to
Justin, the ass designated ὑποζύγιον (that is under the yoke), is a
symbol of the Jews; the ass never yet ridden, of the Gentiles (Dial. c.
Tryph. 53); and Paulus, adopting this idea, endeavours to make it
probable that Jesus, by mounting an animal which had never before been
ridden, intended to announce himself as the founder and ruler of a new
religious community. Exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 116 ff.

[1592] Natürliche Gesch. 3, s. 566 f.; Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 550,
Anm.

[1593] Weisse, s. 573.

[1594] Apol. i. 32: τὸ δὲ δεσμεύων πρὸς ἄμπελον τὸν πῶλον
αὐτοῦ—σύμβολον δηλωτικὸν ἦν τῶν γενησομένων τῷ Χριστῷ καὶ τῶν ὑπ’ αὐτοῦ
πραχθησομένων. πῶλος γάρ τις ὄνου εἱστήκει ἔν τινι εἰσόδῳ κώμης πρὸς
ἄμπελον δεδεμένος ὃν ἐκέλευσεν ἀγαγεῖν αὐτῷ κ.τ.λ. Binding his colt to
a vine—was a symbol indicative of what would happen to Christ; for
there stood at the entrance of a certain village, bound to a vine, an
ass’s colt, which he ordered them to bring to him, etc.

[1595] Vid. Schöttgen, horæ, ii. p. 146.

[1596] Midrasch Rabba, f. xcviii.

[1597] On account of this silence of the fourth Evangelist, even
Neander (ut sup.) is in this instance inclined to admit, that a more
simple event, owing to the disproportionate importance subsequently
attached to it, was unhistorically modified.

[1598] Comp. Paulus, in loc.

[1599] The citation given by Matthew is a combination of a passage from
Isaiah with that of Zechariah. For the words Tell ye the daughter of
Zion, εἴπατε τῇ θυγατρὶ Σιὼν, are from Isa. lxii. 11; the rest from
Zechariah ix. 9, where the LXX. has with some divergency: ἰδοὺ ὁ
βασιλεύς σου ἔρχεταί σοι δίκαιος καὶ σώζων αὐτὸς πραῢς καὶ ἐπιβεβηκὼς
ἐπὶ ὑποζύγιον καὶ πῶλον νέον.

[1600] Hitzig, über die Abfassungszeit der Orakel, Zach. ix.–xiv. in
the Theol. Studien, 1830, 1, s. 36 ff. refers the preceding verse to
the warlike deeds of this king, and the one in question to his pacific
virtues.

[1601] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 121 ff.

[1602] Rosenmüller, Schol. in V. T. 7, 4, s. 274 ff.

[1603] In the passage cited Introd., § 14, from Midrasch Coheleth, the
description, pauper et insidens asino in Zechariah, is in the very
first instance referred to the Goël postremus. This ass of the Messiah
was held identical with that of Abraham and Moses, vid. Jalkut Rubeni
f. lxxix. 3, 4, ap. Schöttgen, i. s. 169; comp. Eisenmenger, entdecktes
Judenthum, 2, s. 697 f.

[1604] Sanhedrin f. xcviii. 1 (ap. Wetstein): Dixit R. Alexander: R.
Josua f. Levi duobus inter se collatis locis tanquam contrariis visis
objecit: scribitur Dan. vii. 13: et ecce cum nubibus cœli velut filius
hominis venit. Et scribitur Zach. ix. 9: pauper et insidens asino.
Verum hæc duo loca ita inter se conciliari possunt: nempe, si justitia
sua mereantur Israëlitæ, Messias veniet cum nubibus cœli: si autem non
mereantur, veniet pauper, et vehetur asino.

[1605] His predictions concerning particular circumstances of his
passion, uttered shortly before its occurrence, in the last days of his
life, can only be considered farther on, in the history of those days.

[1606] Comp. Olshausen, bibl. Comm., 1, s. 528.

[1607] Gesenius, Jesaias, iii. 137 ff.; Hitzig, Comm. zu Jes., s. 550.

[1608] Gesenius, ut sup. s. 158 ff.; Hitzig, s. 577 ff.; Vatke, bibl.
Theol. 1, s. 528 ff.

[1609] De Wette, Comm. zu den Psalmen, s. 514 ff.; 3te Aufl.

[1610] Ibid. s. 224 ff.

[1611] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 677 ff., and De Wette in loc.

[1612] See this view developed by Fritzsche, Comm. in Marc, p. 381 f.

[1613] Vid. Fritzsche, ut sup.

[1614] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 415 ff.; Ammon, bibl. Theol. 2, s.
377 f.; Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 246. Fritzsche also, ut sup. and
Weisse, 1, s. 423, partly admit this.

[1615] Bertholdt, Einleitung in d. N. T. 1305 ff.; Wegscheider, Einl.
in das Evang. Johannis, s. 271 f.

[1616] Daniel, übersetzt und erklärt von Bertholdt, 2, s. 541 ff., 660
ff.; Rosenmüller, Schol. in V. T. 7, 4, p. 339 ff.

[1617] De Wette, de morte Christi expiatoria, in his Opusc. Theol., p.
130; Hase, L. J. § 06.

[1618] Vom Zweck Jesu und seiner Junger, s. 114 ff. 153 f.

[1619] Ueber den Zweck und die Wirkungen des Todes Jesu, in the
Göttingischen Bibliothek, 1, 4, s. 252 ff.

[1620] See the list in De Wette, ut sup. s. 6 ff. The most important
voices for the existence of the idea in question in the time of Jesus,
have been noticed by Stäudlin in the above treatise, 1, s. 233 ff., and
by Hengstenberg, Christologie des A. T., 1, a, s. 270 ff., b, s, 290
ff; for the opposite opinion, by De Wette, ut sup. p. 1 ff.

[1621] Comp. De Wette, bibl. Dogm, § 201 f.; Baumgarten Crusius, bibl.
Theol. § 54.

[1622] Vid. De Wette, ut sup. § 189 ff.

[1623] Comp. De Wette, ut sup. § 193.

[1624] Gfrörer, Philo, 1, s. 495 ff.

[1625] A passage to this effect out of the law (νόμος) properly so
called, would be difficult to find: De Wette, de morte, p. 72, refers
to Isa. ix. 5; Lücke, in loc. to Ps. cx. 4; Dan. vii. 14, ii. 44.

[1626] Vom Zweck Jesu und seiner Jünger, s. 179 f.

[1627] Vid. De Wette, de morte Chr. p. 73 f.

[1628] Comp. Gesenius, Jesaias 2, Th. s. 66; De Wette, Einleitung in
das A. T. § 59, 3te Ausg.

[1629]

Literal translation according to Targum of Jonathan: Quemadmodum
Hitzig, lii. 14:—As many were per multos dies ipsum exspectârunt
amazed at him, so disfigured, not Israëlitae, quorum contabuit inter
human, was his appearance, and his gentes adspectus et splendor (et
form not that of the children of evanuit) e filiis hominum, etc.
men, etc.

liii. 4:—But he bore our Idcirco pro delictis nostris ipse
infirmities, and charged himself deprecabitur, et iniquitates
with our sorrows, and we esteemed nostræ propter eum condonabuntur,
him stricken, smitten of God and licet nos reputati simus contusi,
afflicted. plagis affecti et afflicti.

Origen also relates, c. Celsus, i. 55, how a person esteemed a wise man
among the Jews, λεγόμενος παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις σοφὸς, maintained, in
opposition to his Christian interpretation of the passage in Isaiah,
that this was prophesied concerning the whole nation, which had been
dispersed and afflicted, in order that many might become proselytes,
ταῦτα πεπροφητεῦσθαι ὡς περὶ ἑνὸς τοῦ ὅλου λαοῦ, καὶ γενομένου ἐν τῇ
διασπορᾷ, καὶ πληγέντος, ἳνα πολλοὶ προσήλυτοι γένωνται.

[1630] Vid. Schöttgen, 2, s. 182 f.; Eisenmenger, entdecktes Judenthum,
2, s. 758.

[1631] Ap. Schöttgen, 2 s. 181 f.

[1632] De Wette, de morte Chr. expiatoria, ut sup. s. 50.

[1633] vii. 29.

[1634] Schöttgen, 2, s. 509 ff.; Schmidt, Christologische Fragmente, in
his Bibliothek, 1, s. 24 ff.; Bertholdt, Christol. Jud., § 13.

[1635] Schmidt, ut sup.; Bertholdt, ut sup., § 16.

[1636] Pesikta in Abkath Rochel, ap. Schmidt, s. 48 f.

[1637] Sohar, P. II. lxxxv. 2, ap. Schmidt, § 47 f.

[1638] Gemara Sanhedrin, f. xcviii. 1; ap. De Wette, de morte Chr., p.
95 f., and ap. Hengstenberg, s. 292.

[1639] Sohar, P. II. f. lxxx. ii. 2; ap. De Wette, s. 94: Cum Israëlitæ
essent in terra sancta, per cultus religiosos et sacrificia quæ
faciebanto, omnes illos morbos et pœnas e mundo, sustulerunt; nunc vero
Messias debet auferre eas ab hominibus.

[1640] Vid. Bertholdt, ut sup. § 17.

[1641] De Wette, de morte Chr., p. 112; comp. 53 ff.

[1642] Hase, L. J. § 108.

[1643] Ibid.

[1644] Ibid. and § 109.

[1645] See his animated and impressive treatise, vom Zweck, u. s. f.,
s. 121 ff. Comp. Briefe über den Rationalismus, s. 224 ff., and De
Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 143.

[1646] Thus especially Herder, vom Erlöser der Menschen, s. 133 ff.
Briefe über den Rationalismus, s. 227. Comp. Kuinöl, Comm. in Matth.,
p. 444 f.

[1647] LXX.: ὑγιάσει ἡμᾶς μετὰ δύο ἡμέρας· ἐν τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ τρίτῃ
ἐξαναστησόμεθα, καὶ ζησόμεθα ἐνώπιον αὐτοῦ.

[1648] Comp. Süskind, einige Bemerkungen über die Frage, ob Jesus seine
Auferstehung bestimmt vorhergesagt habe? in Flatt’s Magazin, 7, s. 203
ff.

[1649] Paulus, ut sup. 2, s. 415 ff.; Hase, L. J. § 109.

[1650] E.g. Lücke, 1, s. 426; comp., on the contrary, Tholuck, in loc.

[1651] Vid. Tholuck, ut sup.

[1652] Henke, Joannes apostolus nonnullorum Jesu apophthegmatum in
evang. suo et ipse interpres. In Pott’s and Ruperti’s Sylloge Comm.
theol. 1, s. 9; Gabler, Recension des Henke’schen Programms im neuesten
theol. Journal, 2, 1, s. 88; Lücke, in loc.

[1653] Thus, besides Henke in the above Programm, Herder, von Gottes
Sohn nach Johannes Evang., s. 135 f.; Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 165 f.; L. J.
1, a, s. 173 f.; Lücke, and De Wette, in loc.

[1654] Storr, in Flatt’s Magazin, 4, s. 199.

[1655] Tholuck and Olshausen, in loc.

[1656] Hence Neander remains suspended in indecision between the two,
s. 395 f.

[1657] Thus Kern, die Hauptthatsachen der evang. Gesch., Tüb.
Zeitschrift, 1836, 2, s. 128.

[1658] Thus Olshausen.

[1659] Kern says, indeed, that a similar doubleness of meaning is found
elsewhere in significant discourse; but he refrains from adducing an
example.

[1660] Probab., p. 23 ff.

[1661] Comp. Neander, s. 396, Anm.

[1662] Paulus, exeg. Handb. in loc.

[1663] Comp. Fritzsche and Olshausen, in loc.

[1664] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 2, s. 97 ff. Schulz, über das Abendm., s.
317 f.

[1665] Süskind, ut sup. s. 184 ff.

[1666] Vid. Lücke, in loc.

[1667] Vid. de Wette, Comm. über die Psalmen, s. 178.

[1668] Compare, on the import and connexion of this discourse,
Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 695 ff; De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s. 197
ff; Weizel, die unchristliche Unsterblichkeitslehre, in the theol.
Studien und Kritiken, 1836, s. 599 ff.—In agreement with these
commentators I append the following division of the passage in Matthew:

I. Signs of the end, τέλος, xxiv. 4–14.

a. More remote signs, the beginning of sorrows, ἀρχὴ ὠδίνων,
4–8.
b. More immediate signs, the actual sorrows, 9–14.

II. The end, τέλος, itself, xxiv. 15–25, 46.

a. Its commencement with the destruction of Jerusalem, and
the great tribulation θλῖψις which accompanies it, 15–28.
b. Its culminating point: the advent of the Messiah, together
with the assembling of his elect, 29–31. (Here follow
retrospective observations and warnings, xxiv. 32-xxv. 30.)
c. Close of the τέλος with the messianic judgment, 31–46.

[1669] Vom Zweck Jesu und seiner Jünger, s. 184, 201 ff., 207 ff.

[1670] The former adv. hæres. v. 25; the latter, Comm. in Matth. in
loc. Compare on the different interpretations of this passage the list
in Schott, Commentarius in eos J. Chr. sermones, qui de reditu ejus ad
judicium—agunt, p. 73 ff.

[1671] Bahrdt., Uebersetzung des N. T., 1, s. 1103, 3te Ausg.;
Eckermann, Handb. der Glaubenslehre, 2, s. 579, 3, s. 427, 437, 709 ff;
and others in Schott, ut sup.

[1672] This is the opinion of Lightfoot, in loc., Flatt, Comm. de
notione vocis βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν, in Velthusen’s und A. Sammlung 2,
461 ff.; Jahn, Erklärung der Weissagungen Jesu von der Zerstörung
Jerusalems u. s. w., in Bengel’s Archiv. 2, 1, s. 79 ff., and others,
cited in Schott, s. 75 f.

[1673] Thus especially Jahn, in the treatise above cited.

[1674] Kern, Hauptthatsachen der evang. Geschichte, Tüb. Zeitschr.
1836, 2, s. 140 ff.

[1675] Thus Storr, Opusc. acad. 3, s. 34 ff.; Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3,
a, s. 346 f. 402 f.

[1676] Ut sup. s. 188.

[1677] Storr, ut sup. s. 39, 116 ff.

[1678] Paulus, in loc.

[1679] Vid. Kuinöl in Matt., s. 649.

[1680] Comp. the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, ut sup. s. 190 ff. Schott,
ut sup. s. 127 ff.

[1681] Kern, ut sup. s. 141 f. That Jesus conceived the epoch at which
he spoke to be separated from the end of the world by a far longer
interval than would elapse before the destruction of Jerusalem, Kern
thinks he can prove in the shortest way from v. 14, of the 24th chapter
of Matthew, where Jesus says, And this gospel of the kingdom shall be
preached in all the world for a witness unto all nations, and then
shall the end come. For such a promulgation of Christianity, he thinks,
it is “beyond contradiction” that a far longer space of time than these
few lustrums would be requisite. As it happens, the apostle Paul
himself presents the contradiction, when he represents the gospel as
having been already preached to that extent before the destruction of
Jerusalem, e.g. Col. i. 5: τοῦ εὐαγγελίου, (6) τοῦ παρόντος—ἐν παντὶ τῷ
κόσμῳ—(23)—τοῦ κηρυχθέντος ἐν πάσῃ τῇ κτίσει τῇ ὑπὸ τὸν οὐρανὸν. Comp.
Rom. x. 13.

[1682] The former is chosen by Süskind, vermischte Aufsätze, s. 90 ff.;
the latter by Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 653 ff.

[1683] See his Commentarius, in loc.

[1684] Ueber das Abendmahl, s. 315 f.

[1685] Ueber den Ursprung des ersten kanon. Evangel., s. 119 ff. Also
Weisse, ut sup.

[1686] Ueber den Lukas, s. 215 ff., 265 ff. Here also his opinion is
approved by Neander, s. 562.

[1687] Olshausen, bibl. Comm. 1, s. 865; Kern, ut sup. s. 138 ff. Comp.
Steudel Glaubensl. s. 479 ff.

[1688] [“Die Weltgeschichte ist das Weltgericht:” Schiller. Tr.]

[1689] Comp. especially Weizel, die Zeit des jüngsten Tags u. s. f. in
den Studien der evang. Geistlichkeit Würtembergs, 9, 2, s. 140 ff., 154
ff.

[1690] According to Kern, the appearing of the Son of Man in the
clouds, signifies “the manifestation of everything which forms so great
an epoch in the development of the history of mankind, that from it,
the agency of Christ, who is the governing power in the history of
mankind, may be as clearly recognised as if the sign of Christ were
seen in the heavens. The mourning of all the tribes of the earth is to
be understood of the sorrow with which men will be visited, owing to
the judgment, κρίσις, which accompanies the propagation of the kingdom
of Christ, as consisting in an expulsion of ungodliness out of the
world, and the annihilation of the old man.” Still further does Weisse
allow himself to be carried away by the allegorizing propensity: Christ
“commiserates those who are with child and who give suck, i.e. those
who would still labour and produce in the old order of things; he
further pities those whose flight falls in the winter, i.e. in a rude,
inhospitable period, which bears no fruit for the spirit.” (Die evang.
Gesch. 2, s. 592.)

[1691] Hengstenberg, Christologie des A. T., 1, a, s. 305 ff.

[1692] Exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 403. Comp. also Kern, Hauptthatsachen, ut
sup. s. 137.

[1693] Bibl. Comm. 1, s. 865 ff.

[1694] Ueber den Ursprung u. s. f., s. 119. Weisse advances a similar
opinion, ut sup.

[1695] Compare also my Streitschriften, 1, 1, conclusion.

[1696] Comp. e.g. Gratz, Comm. zum Matth. 2, 444 ff.

[1697] Antiq. xx. viii. 6 (comp. bell. jud. ii. xiii. 4.): And now
these impostors and deceivers persuaded the multitude to follow them
into the wilderness, and pretended that they would exhibit manifest
wonders and signs that should be performed by the providence of God.
And many that were prevailed on by them, suffered the punishments of
their folly; for Felix brought them back, and then punished them.

[1698] Bell. jud. v. xii. 1, 2.

[1699] More ample comparisons of the results mentioned by Josephus and
others, with the prophecy, see in Credner, Einleit. in das N. T. 1, s.
207.

[1700] Bertholdt, Daniel übersetzt und erklärt, 2, s. 668 ff.; Paulus,
exeg. Handb. 3, a, s, 340 f.; De Wette, Einleit. in das A. T., § 254
ff.

[1701] Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 247; Credner, Einl. in das N. T. 1,
s. 206 f.

[1702] De Wette, Einl. in das N. T., § 97, 101. Exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s.
204, 1, 2, s. 103.

[1703] Paulus, Fritzsche, De Wette in loc.

[1704] B. j. V. xii. 1: To encompass the whole city round with his
army, was not very easy, by reason of its magnitude and the difficulty
of the situation; and on other accounts dangerous.

[1705] B. j. V. xi. 1 ff, xii. 1.

[1706] Vid. Schöttgen, 2, s. 509 ff.; Bertholdt, § 13; Schmidt,
Biblioth. 1, s. 24 ff.

[1707] Vid. Schöttgen, 2, s. 525 f.

[1708] Antiq. X. xi. 7. After having interpreted the little horn of
Antiochus, he briefly adds: In the very same manner Daniel also wrote
concerning the government of the Romans, and that our country should be
made desolate by them. He doubtless supposed that the fourth, iron
monarchy, Dan. ii. 40, represented the Romans, since, besides
attributing it to a dominion over all the earth, he explains its
destruction by the stone as something still future, Ant. X. x. 4:
Daniel did also declare the meaning of the stone to the King; but I do
not think proper to relate it, since I have only undertaken to describe
things past or things present, but not things that are future. Now
Daniel ii. 44 interprets the stone to mean the heavenly kingdom, which
would destroy the iron one, but would itself endure for ever,—a
messianic particular, on which Josephus does not choose to dilate. But
that, correctly interpreted, the iron legs of the image signify the
Macedonian empire, and the feet of iron mixed with clay, the Syrian
empire which sprang out of the Macedonian, see De Wette, Einleit. in
das N. T., § 254.

[1709] Vid. Joseph., Antiq. xii. v.

[1710] Vid. Hase, L. J., § 130.

[1711] The passages bearing on this subject are collected and explained
in Schott, Commentarius, etc., p. 364 ff. Comp. Lücke, in loc. and
Weizel, urchristl. Unsterblichkeitslehre, in the Theol. Studien, 1836,
s. 626 ff.

[1712] Vid. Tholuck, in loc.

[1713] Comp. Tholuck, ut sup.

[1714] Thus Lücke, and also Tholuck, in loc.; Schott, p. 409.

[1715] Olshausen, 1, s. 870.

[1716] Fleck, de regno divino, p. 483.

[1717] Winer’s bibl. Realwörterb.

[1718] Schneckenburger, über den Urspr., s. 9 f. Lücke, 1, s. 133, 159,
2, s. 402.

[1719] Comp. besides the critics above cited, Hug, Enleit. in das N. T.
2, s. 215.

[1720] For the most correct views on this point see Lücke, 2, s. 407
ff.

[1721] As the author of the Probabilia thinks, s. 94.

[1722] Hug, ut sup. s. 221.

[1723] Kuinöl, in loc.

[1724] Paulus, Comm. 4, s. 579 f.

[1725] Lücke, in loc.

[1726] Lightfoot, in loc.

[1727] Probabil. ut sup.

[1728] Vol. II. § 62.

[1729] Olshausen gives us more precise information concerning the
descent of the traitor, when he says (bibl. Comm. 2, s. 458 Anm.):
“Perhaps the passage, Gen. xlix. 17, Dan shall be a serpent, an adder
in the path, that biteth the horse’s heels, so that his rider shall
fall backward, is a prophetic intimation of the treachery of Judas,
whence we might conclude that he was of the tribe of Dan.”

[1730] That, according to the account in John, Judas first went to the
chief priests from the meal, is acknowledged by Lightfoot also (horæ,
p. 465), but he on this account regards the meal described by John as
earlier than the synoptical one.

[1731] Comm. z. Joh. 2, s. 484.

[1732] Vol. II. § 89.

[1733] See these and the following reasons in Olshausen, 2, s. 458 ff.

[1734] Olshausen, ut sup.

[1735] Such an argument may be gathered from what Olshausen says, 2, s.
387, 388.

[1736] Ueber den Lukas, s. 88.

[1737] Orig. c. Cels., ii. 11 f.

[1738] Comp. Probabil., p. 139.

[1739] Still farther back we find, not the knowledge of Jesus
concerning his betrayer, but an important meeting between them, in the
apocryphal Evangelium infantiæ arabicum, c. xxxv. ap. Fabricius 1, p.
197 f., ap. Thilo, 1, p. 108 f. Here a demoniacal boy, who in his
attacks bit violently at everything around him, is brought to the child
Jesus, attempts to bite him, and because he cannot reach him with his
teeth gives him a blow on the right side, whereupon the child Jesus
weeps, while Satan comes out of the boy in the form of a furious dog.
Hic autem puer, qui Jesum percussit et ex quo Satanas sub forma canis
exivit, fuit Judas Ischariotes, qui illum Judæis prodidit.

[1740] Iren. adv. hær. I. 35: Judam proditorem—solum præ ceteris
cognoscentem veritatem perfecisse proditionis mysterium, per quem et
terrena et cælestia omnia dissoluta dicunt. Epiphan. xxxviii. 3: Some
Cainites say, that Judas betrayed Jesus because he regarded him as a
wicked man πονηρὸν, who meant to destroy the good law: ἄλλοι δὲ τῶν
αὐτῶν, οὐχι φασιν, ἀλλὰ ἀγαθὸν αὐτὸν ὤντα παρέδωκε κατὰ τὴν ἑπουράνιον
γνῶσιν ἔγνωσαν γάρ, φησιν, οἱ ἄρχοντες, ὅτι, ἐὰν ὁ Χριστὸς παραδοθῇ
σταυρῷ, κενοῦται αὐτῶν ἡ ἀσθενὴς δύναμις· καὶ τοῦτό, φησι γνούς ὁ
Ἰούδας, ἔπευσε καὶ πάντα ἐκίνησεν ὤστε παραδοῦναι αὐτὸν, ἀγαθὸν ἔργον
ποιήσας ἡμῖν εἰς σωτηρίαν. καὶ δεῖ ἡμᾶς ἐπαινεῖν καὶ ἀποδιδόναι αὐτῷ
τὸν ἔπαινον, ὅτι δι’ αὐτοῦ κατεσκευάσθη ἡμῖν ἡ τοῦ σταυροῦ σωτηρία καὶ
ἡ διὰ τῆς ποιαύτης ὑποθέσεως τῶν ἄνω ἀποκάλυψις.

[1741] Theophylact, in Matth. xxvii. 4.

[1742] Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 249. Klopstock gives a similar
representation in his Messias.

[1743] K. Ch. L. Schmidt, exeg. Beiträge, 1, Thl. 2ter Versuch, s. 18
ff.; comp. Schmidt’s Bibliothek, 3, 1, s. 163 ff.

[1744] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 451 ff. L. J. 1, b, s. 143 ff.;
Hase, L. J., § 132. Comp. Theile, zur Biographie Jesu, § 33.

[1745] Schmidt, ut sup.

[1746] Hase.

[1747] Paulus.

[1748] Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 578 f.

[1749] Vol. II. § 88; comp. Hase, ut sup.

[1750] [The German Thaler (Rixthaler) is equivalent to about three
shillings. Tr.]

[1751] Rosenmüller, Schol. in V. T. 7, 4, s. 318 ff.

[1752] Even Neander thinks this a possible origin of the above
statement in the first gospel, s. 574, Anm.

[1753] L. J. Chr., s. 573.

[1754] Comp. also Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 759 f.

[1755] Ueber die Anordnung des letzten Paschamahls Jesu, in his neust.
theol. Journal, 2, 5, s. 441 ff.

[1756] Bell. jud. vi. ix. 3.

[1757] Thus Gabler, ut sup.; Paulus, exeg. Handb., 3, b, s. 781; Kern,
Hauptthatsachen, Tüb. Zeitschr. 1836, 3, s. 3 f.; Neander, s. 583.

[1758] Beza, in Matth. xxvi. 18, correctly, save that he supposes too
special a reference to the approaching sufferings of Jesus, thus
represents the object of this prediction: ut magis ac magis
intelligerent discipuli, nihil temere in urbe magistro eventurum, sed
quæ ad minutissimas usque circumstantias penitus perspecta haberet.

[1759] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 385 f. Comp. in opposition to this De Wette,
in loc.

[1760] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 321; Schleiermacher, über den
Lukas, s. 280; Weisse, die evang. Gesch., s. 600 f.

[1761] Vid. Theile, über die letzte Mahlzeit Jesu, in Winer’s and
Engelhardt’s neuem krit. Journal, 2, s. 169, Anm., and zur Biographie
Jesu, § 31.

[1762] Thus Lightfoot, horæ, p. 463 ff.; Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 2, s.
273 ff.; also Venturini 3, s. 634 ff.

[1763] An insufficient outlet from this difficulty is pointed out by
Lightfoot, p. 482 f.

[1764] Fragm. ex Claudii Apollinaris libro de Paschate, in Chron.
Paschal, ed. du Fresne. Paris, 1688, p. 6 f. præf.

[1765] See especially Tholuck and Olshausen, in loc.; Kern,
Hauptthatsachen, Tüb. Zeitschr. 1836, 3, s. 5 ff.

[1766] Diss. de verâ notione cœnæ Domini, annexed to Cudworth, syst.
intell., p. 22, not. 1.

[1767] See these counter observations particularly in Lücke and de
Wette, in loc.; in Sieffert über den Ursprung, s. 127 ff., and Winer,
bibl. Realwörterb. 2, s. 238 ff.

[1768] Antiq. II. xiv. 16.

[1769] Fritzsche, vom Osterlamm; more recently, Rauch, in the theol.
Studien und Kritiken, 1832, 3, s. 537 f.

[1770] Comp. De Wette, theol. Studien und Krit. 1834, 4, s. 939 f.;
Tholuck, Comm. z. Joh. s. 245 f.; Winer, ut sup.

[1771] Calvin, in Matth. xxvi. 17.

[1772] Grotius, in Matth. xxvi. 18.

[1773] Iken, Diss. philol. theol., vol. 2, p. 416 ff.

[1774] Vid. Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, a, s. 486 ff.

[1775] Michaelis, Anm. zu Joh. 13.

[1776] Sieffert, ut sup.; Hase, L. J., § 124; De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1,
3, s. 149 ff; Theile, zur Biographie Jesu, § 31.

[1777] Theile, in Winer’s Krit. Journal, 2, s. 157 ff.; Sieffert and
Lücke, ut sup.

[1778] Pesachin f. lxv. 2, ap. Lightfoot, p. 654: Paschate primo
tenetur quispiam ad pernoctationem. Gloss.: Paschatizans tenetur ad
pernoctandum in Hierosolyma nocte prima. On the other hand, Tosaphoth
ad tr. Pesachin 8: In Paschate Aegyptiaco dicitur: nemo exeat—usque ad
mane. Sed sic non fuit in sequentibus generationibus,—quibus
comedebatur id uno loco et pernoctabant in alio. Comp. Schneckenburger,
Beiträge, s. 9.

[1779] Tract. Sanhedr. f. lxxxix. 1, ap. Schöttgen, i. p. 221; comp.
Paulus, ut sup. s. 492.

[1780] Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 763 f.; comp. 755; Lücke, 2, s. 614.

[1781] Sanhedr. f. xliii. 1, ap. Schöttgen, ii. p. 700.

[1782] Ueber die ursprüngliche Bedeutung des Passahfestes u. s. w.,
Tübinger Zeitschrift f. Theol. 1832, 1, s. 90 ff.

[1783] Ut sup. s. 167 ff.

[1784] Sieffert, ut sup. s. 144 ff.; Lücke, s. 628 ff.; Theile, zur
Biogr. Jesu, § 31; De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 149 ff.; comp.
Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 580 ff. Anm.

[1785] Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 763; Kern, über den Urspr. des Ev.
Matth. in der Tüb. Zeitschrift, 1834, 2, s. 98.

[1786] Comp. Suicer, thesaur. 2, s. 613.

[1787] Another view as to the cause of the error in the fourth gospel
is given in the Probabilia, s. 100 ff.; comp. Weisse, die evang. Gesch.
1, s. 446 f. Anm.

[1788] Paulus, 3, b, s. 499; Olshausen, 2, s. 294.

[1789] Lücke, 2, s. 484 f.; Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 583, Anm.

[1790] Olshausen, ut sup.

[1791] Sieffert, über den Urspr., s. 152.

[1792] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 310, 381 f.

[1793] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 497.

[1794] Meyer, Comm. über den Joh., in loc.

[1795] L. J. Chr., s. 587, Anm.

[1796] Sieffert, s. 152 ff.

[1797] Comp. Lücke, s. 468.

[1798] Die Hauptthatsachen der evang. Gesch. Tüb. Zeitschr. 1836, 3, s.
12.

[1799] Hase, L. J., § 133; Kern, Hauptthatsachen, s. 11; Theile, zur
Biographie Jesu, § 31.

[1800] Sieffert, s. 153; Paulus and Olshausen, in loc. For the opposite
opinion comp. De Wette, 1, 1, s. 222, 1, 2, s. 107.

[1801] Vol. II. § 83.

[1802] The conjecture as to the origin of this anecdote in the
Probabilia, s. 70 f. is too far-fetched.

[1803] Comp. De Wette, in loc.

[1804] Ueber den Lukas, s. 275.

[1805] Olshausen, 2, s. 380.

[1806] Thus Lücke, Paulus, Olshausen.

[1807] Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 707.

[1808] This is Olshausen’s expedient, 2, s. 402. Against it see
Sieffert, s. 148. f.

[1809] Ut sup. s. 147 ff.

[1810] Comm. über die Gesch. des Leidens und Todes Jesu, in loc.

[1811] See De Wette, in loc.

[1812] Vid. Lücke and Tholuck, in loc.

[1813] P. 62: reliqui quidem narrant evangelistæ servatorem scivisse
proditionis consilium, nee impedivisse; ipsum vero excitâsse Judam ad
proditionem nemo eorum dicit, neque convenit hoc Jesu.

[1814] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 538. L. J. 1, b, s. 192. Hase, L.
J., § 137.

[1815] Comp. Lightfoot and Paulus, in loc.

[1816] Comp. on this subject especially, Lightfoot, horæ, p. 474 ff.,
and Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 511 ff.

[1817] Süskind, in the treatise: Hat Jesus das Abendmahl als einen
mnemonischen Ritus angeordnet? in his Magazin 11, s. 1 ff.

[1818] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 527.

[1819] Ueber das Abendmahl, s. 217 ff.

[1820] Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 2, a, s. 39; Stephani, das h. Abendmahl, s.
61.

[1821] Vol. II. § 81.

[1822] Paulus, ut sup. s. 519 ff.; Kaiser, ut sup. s. 37 ff.

[1823] Orig. c. Cels. ii. 24: λέγει (ὁ Κέλσος)· τί οὖν ποτνιᾶται, καὶ
ὀδύρεται, καὶ τὸν τοῦ ὀλέθρου φόβον εὔχεται παραδραμεῖν, λέγων κ.τ.λ.:
He says (i.e. Celsus): Why then does he supplicate help, and bewail
himself, and pray for escape from the fear of death, saying, etc.
Julian, in a Fragment of Theodore of Mopsuestia, ap. Münter, Fragm.
Patr. græc. Fasc. 1, p. 121: ἀλλὰ καὶ τοιαῦτα προσεύχεται, φήσιν, ὁ Ἰ.,
οἶα ἄθλιος ἄνθρωπος, συμφορὰν φέρειν εὐκόλως οὐ δυνάμενος, καὶ ὑπ’
ἀγγέλου, θεὸς ὢν, ἐνισχύεται. Jesus, says he, also presents such
petitions as a wretched mortal would offer, when unable to bear a
calamity with serenity; and although divine, he is strengthened by an
angel.

[1824] Gramond. hist. Gall. ab. exc. Henr. IV. L. iii. p. 211: Lucilius
Vanini—dum in patibulum trahitur—Christo illudit in hæc eadem verba:
illi in extremis præ timore imbellis sudor: ego imperterritus morior.

[1825] Evang. Nicod. c. xx. ap. Thilo, 1, s. 702 ff.: ἐγὸ γὰρ οἶδα, ὅτι
ἄνθρωπός ἐστι, καὶ ἥκουσα αὐτοῦ λέγοντος· ὅτι περίλυπός ἐστιν ἡ ψυχή
μου ἕως θανάτου.

[1826] Ibid. s. 706. Hades replies to Satan: εἰ δὲ λέγεις, ὅτι ἥκουσας
αὑτοῦ φοβουμένου τὸν θάνατον, παίξων σε καὶ γελῶν ἔφη τοῦτο, θέλων, ἵνα
σε ἀρπάσῃ ἐν χειρὶ δυνατῇ.

[1827] Orig. c. Cels. ii. 25.

[1828] Hieron. Comm. in Matth. in loc.: Contristabatur non timore
patiendi, qui ad hoc venerat, ut pateretur, sed propter infelicissimum
Judam, et scandalum omnium apostolorum, et rejectionem populi Judæorum,
et eversionem miseræ Hierusalem.

[1829] Calvin, Comm. in harm. evangg. Matth. xxvi. 37: Non—mortem
horruit simpliciter, quatenus transitus est e mundo sed quia
formidabile Dei tribunal illi erat ante oculos, judex ipse
incomprehensibili vindicta armatus, peccata vero nostra, quorum onus
illi erat impositum, sua ingenti mole eum premebant. Comp. Luther’s
Hauspostille, die erste Passionspredigt.

[1830] Lightfoot, p. 884 f.

[1831] Thiess, Krit. Comm. s. 418 ff.

[1832] Ut sup. s. 549, 554 f., Anm.

[1833] Schuster, zur Erläuterung des N. T., in Eichhorn’s Biblioth. 9,
s. 1012 ff.

[1834] Hess, Gesch. Jesu, 2, s. 322 ff.; Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 719.

[1835] Ullmann, über die Unsündlichkeit Jesu, in his Studien, 1, s. 61.
Hasert, ib. 3, 1, s. 66 ff.

[1836] Ullmann, ut sup.

[1837] Hasert, ut sup.

[1838] Luther, in der Predigt vom Leiden Christi im Garten.

[1839] Ambrosius in Luc., Tom. x. 56.

[1840] In Matthaei’s N. T., p. 447.

[1841] Lightfoot, ut sup.

[1842] Venturini, 3, 677, and conjecturally Paulus also, s. 561.

[1843] Eichhorn, allg. Bibl. 1, s. 628; Thiess, in loc.

[1844] Comp. on this subject and the following, Gabler, neust. theol.
Journal, 1, 2, s. 109 ff. 3, s. 217 ff.

[1845] Comp. Julian, ap. Theod. of Mopsuestia in Münter’s Fragm. Patr.
1, p. 121 f.

[1846] Ueber den Lukas, s. 288; comp. De Wette, in loc. and Theile,
zur. Biogr. Jesu, § 32. Neander also appears willing silently to
abandon this trait and the following one.

[1847] Ancoratus, 31.

[1848] Vid. Wetstein, s. 807.

[1849] De part. animal. iii. 15.

[1850] Vid. ap. Michaelis, not. in loc., and Kuinöl, in Luc., p. 691 f.

[1851] Paulus, ut sup. s. 549.

[1852] Theile, in Winer’s and Engelhardt’s krit. Journal, 2, s. 353;
Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 616 f.

[1853] Comp. Weisse, die evang. Gesch. 1, s. 611.

[1854] Olshausen, 2, s. 429.

[1855] Lücke, 2, s. 591.

[1856] Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 65 f.

[1857] Comm. 1, s. 177 f.

[1858] Lücke, 2, s. 392 ff.

[1859] Olshausen, 2, s. 429 f.

[1860] Commentatio critica, qua Evangelium Joannis genuinum
esse—ostenditur, p. 57 ff.

[1861] Probab. p. 33 ff.

[1862] Goldhorn, über das Schweigen des Joh. Evangeliums über den
Seelenkampf Jesu in Gethsemane, in Tzschirner’s Magazin. f. christl.
Prediger, 1, 2, s. 1 ff.

[1863] Vid. the Review of Usteri’s Comm. crit., in Winer’s and
Engelhardt’s n. krit. Journal, 2, s. 359 ff.

[1864] Hase, L. J., § 134; Lücke, 2, s. 591 f., Anm.

[1865] Against the offence which it has pleased Tholuck (Glaubw. s. 41)
to take at this expression (Verwischen), comp. the Aphorismen zur
Apologie des Dr. Strauss und seines Werkes, s. 69 f.

[1866] L. J. 1, b, s. 165 f.

[1867] Vom Zweck J. und seiner Jünger, s. 124.

[1868] 2, s. 588 f.

[1869] Ut sup.

[1870] Vid. Lücke, in loc.; Hase, L. J., § 135.

[1871] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 567.

[1872] Lücke, 2, s. 599; Hase, ut sup.; Olshausen, 2. s. 435.

[1873] How can Lücke explain the omission of the kiss of Judas in the
Gospel of John from its having been too notorious a fact? and how can
he adduce as an analogous instance the omission of the transaction
between the betrayer and the Sanhedrim by John? for this, as something
passing behind the scenes, might very well be left out, but by no means
an incident which, like that kiss, happened so conspicuously in the
foreground and centre of the scene.

[1874] So says the Jew of Celsus, Orig. c. Cels. ii. 9: ἐπειδὴ ἡμεῖς
ἐλέγξαντες αὐτὸν καὶ καταγνόντες ἠστιοῦμεν κολάζεσθαι, κρυπτόμενος μὲν
καὶ διαδιδράσκων ἐπονειδιστότατα ἑάλω. When we, having convicted and
condemned him, had determined that he should suffer punishment;
concealing himself, and endeavouring to escape, he experienced a most
shameful capture.

[1875] Lücke, 2, s. 597 f.; Olshausen, 2, s. 435; Tholuck, s. 299. The
reference to the murderer of Coligny is, however, unwarranted, as any
one will find who will look into the book incorrectly cited by Tholuck:
Serrani commentatorium de statu religionis et reip. in regno Galliæ, L.
x. p. 32, b. The murderer was not in the least withheld from the
prosecution of his design by the firmness of the noble old man. Comp.
also Schiller, Werke, 16 Bd. s. 382 f., 384; Ersch and Gruber’s
Encyclopädie, 7 Band, s. 452 f. Such inaccuracies in the department of
modern history cannot indeed excite surprise in a writer who elsewhere
(Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 437) speaks of the duke of Orleans, Louis
Philippe’s father, as the brother of Louis XVI. How can a knowledge so
diversified as that of Dr. Tholuck be always quite accurate.

[1876] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 570.

[1877] Ibid.

[1878] As Lücke, Tholuck and Olshausen, in loc.

[1879] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 290.

[1880] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 576.

[1881] Paulus, ut sup. s. 577; Olshausen, 2, s. 244.

[1882] Thus e.g. Erasmus, in loc.

[1883] Thus Winer, N. T. Gramm., § 41, 5; Tholuck and Lücke, in loc.

[1884] Winer, Gramm., § 57, 4.

[1885] Thus Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 295.

[1886] Schleiermacher, ut sup.; comp. Fritzsche, in loc. Matth.

[1887] Vol. II. § 67. Vol. III. § 114.

[1888] Ut sup.

[1889] Matthew does not mention the blindfolding, and appears to
imagine that Jesus named the person who maltreated him, whom he saw,
but did not otherwise know.

[1890] Vid. Gesenius, in loc.

[1891] Matth. xxvi. 63; comp. Mark xiv. 61: ὁ δὲ Ἰ. ἐσιώπα.

Matth. xxvii. 12: οὐδὲν ἀπεκρίνατο.

Matth. xxvii. 14; comp. Mark xv. 5: καὶ οὐκ ἀπεκρίνατο αὐτῷ πρὸς οὐδὲ
ἓν ῥῆμα, ὥστε θαυμάζειν τὸν ἡγεμόνα λίαν.

Luke xxiii. 9: αὐτὸς δὲ οὐδὲν ἀπεκρίνατο αὐτῷ.

John xix. 9: ὁ δὲ Ἰ. ἀπόκρισιν οὐκ ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ.

[1892] Vol. II. § 74.

[1893] Thus Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 289; Olshausen, 2, s.
445.

[1894] Thus Paulus, ut sup. s. 577 f.

[1895] Comp. Weisse, die evang. Geschichte, 1, s. 609.

[1896] Bengel, in the Gnomon.

[1897] Paulus, ut sup. s. 578.

[1898] Hess, Geschichte Jesu, 2, s. 343.

[1899] Paulus and Olshausen, in loc.; Schleiermacher, ut sup. 289;
Neander, s. 622, Anm.

[1900] Comp. de Wette, in loc.

[1901] Thesaurus, vid. ἀπάνχω.

[1902] Grotius.

[1903] Heinsius.

[1904] Perizonius.

[1905] Thus the Vulgate and Erasmus. See in opposition to all these
interpretations, Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 473 ff.

[1906] Œcumenius, on the Acts, I.: ὁ Ἰούδας οὐκ ἐναπέθανε τῇ ἀνχόνῃ,
ἀλλ’ ἐπεβίω, κατενεχθεὶς πρὸ τοῦ ἀποπνιγῆναι. Comp. Theophylact, on
Matth. xxvii. and a Schol. Ἀπολιναρίου ap. Matthæi.

[1907] Thus, after Casaubon, Paulus, 3, b, s. 457 f.; Kuinöl, in Matth.
747 f.; Winer, b. Realw. Art. Judas, and with some indecision
Olshausen, 2, s. 455 f. Even Fritzsche is become so weary on the long
way to these last chapters of Matthew, that he contents himself with
this reconciliation, and, on the presupposition of it, maintains that
the two accounts concur amicissime.

[1908] 2 Band, 2 Stück, s. 248 f.

[1909] L. J., § 132. Comp. Theile, zur Biographie Jesu, § 33.

[1910] Vid. Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 748.

[1911] Vid. Schmidt’s Biblioth., ut sup. s. 251 f.

[1912] Paulus, 3, b, s. 457 f.; Fritzsche, p. 799.

[1913] Vid. De Wette, in loc.

[1914] In other parts of the N. T. also we find passages from this
psalm messianically applied: as v. 4, John xv. 25, v. 9; John ii. 17;
and John xix. 28 f., probably v. 21.

[1915] Still for other conjectures see Kuinöl, in loc.

[1916] § 119.

[1917] Hitzig, in Ullmann’s and Umbreit’s Studien, 1830, 1, s. 35;
Gesenius, Wörterbuch; comp. Rosenmüller’s Scholia in V. T. 7, 4, s. 320
ff.

[1918] Tertull. Apologet. c. xxi.: Ea omnia super Christo Pilatus, et
ipse jam pro sua conscientia Christianus, Cæsari tum Tiberio nunciavit.
c. v.: Tiberius ergo, cujus tempore nomen Christianum in seculum
introit, annunciatum sibi ex Syria Palæstina, quod illic veritatem
illius Divinitatis revelaverat, detulit ad Senatum cum prærogativa
suffragii sui. Senatus, quia non ipse probaverat, respuit. For further
details on this subject, see Fabricius, Cod. Apocr. N. T. 1, p. 214
ff., 298 ff.; comp. 2, p. 505.

[1919] Œcumen. ad Act. i.: τοῦτο δὲ σαφέστερον ἱστορεῖ Παπίας, ὁ
Ἰωάννου τοῦ ἀποστόλου μαθητής· μέγα ἀσεβείας ὑπόδειγμα ἐν τούτῳ τῷ
κόσμῳ περιεπάτησεν Ἰούδας. Πρησθεὶς γὰρ ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον τὴν σάρκα, ὥστε μὴ
δύνασθαι διελθεῖν, ἁμάζης ῥᾳδίως διερχομένης, ὑπὸ τῆς ἁμάξης ἐπίεσθη,
ὥστε τὰ ἔνκατα αὐτοῦ ἐκκενωθῆναι.

[1920] Vid. sup.

[1921] In Münter’s Fragm. Patr. 1, p. 17 ff. For the rest the passage
is of very similar tenor with that of Œcumenius, and is partly an
exaggeration of it: τοῦτο δὲ σαφέστερον ἱστορεῖ Παπίας, ὁ Ἰωάννου
μαθητὴς, λέγων οὔτως ἐν τῷ τετάρτῳ τῆς ἐξηγήσεως τῶν κυριακῶν λόγων·
μέγα δὲ ἀσεβείας ὑπόδειγμα έν τούτῳ τῷ κόσμῳ περιεπάτησεν ὁ Ἰούδας·
πρησθεὶς ἐπὶ τοσοῦτον τὴν σάρκα, ὥστε μηδὲ ὁπόθεν ἃμαξα ῥᾳδίως
δίερχεται, ἐκεῖνον δύνασθαι διελθεῖν, ἀλλὰ μηδὲ αὐτὸν μόνον τὸν ὄνκον
τῆς κεφαλῆς αὐτοῦ· τὰ μὲν γὰρ βλέφαρα τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν αὐτοῦ (Cod. Venet.:
φασὶ τοσοῦτον ἐξοιδῆσαι, ὡς αὐτὸν μὲν καθόλου τὸ φῶς μὴ βλέπειν) μηδὲ
ὑπὸ ἰατροῦ δίοπτρας ὀφθῆναι κ.τ.λ. Μετὰ πολλὰς δὲ βασάνους καὶ τιμωρίας
ἐν ἰδίῳ, φασὶ, χωρίω τελευτήσαντος κ.τ.λ.. Papias, the disciple of
John, gives a clearer account of this (in the fourth section of his
exegesis of our Lord’s words) as follows: Judas moved about in this
world a terrible example of impiety, being swollen in body to such a
degree that where a chariot could easily pass he was not able to find a
passage, even for the bulk of his head. His eyelids, they say, were so
swelled out that he could not see the light, nor could his eyes be made
visible even by the physician’s dioptra, etc. After suffering many
torments and judgments, dying, as they say, in his own field, etc.

[1922] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 231 f.; 1, 4, s. 10 f.

[1923] According to Babl. Sanhedrin, ap. Lightfoot, p. 486, this mode
of procedure would have been illegal. It is there said: Judicia de
capitalibus finiunt eodem die si sint ad absolutionem; si vero sini ad
damnationem, finiuntur die sequente.

[1924] Besides this passage of John: ἡμὶν οὐκ ἔξεστιν ἀποκτεῖναι
οὐδένα, It is not lawful for us to put any man to death, there is no
other authority for the existence of this state of things than an
obscure and variously interpreted tradition, Avoda Zara f. viii. 2
(Lightfoot, p. 1123 f.): Rabh Cahna dicit, cum ægrotaret R. Ismaël bar
Jose, miserunt ad eum, dicentes: dic nobi, ô Domine, duo aut tria, quæ
aliquando dixisti nobis nomine patris tui. Dicit iis —— quadraginta
annis ante excidium templi migravit Synedrium et sedit in tabernis.
Quid sibi vult hæc traditio? Rabh Isaac, bar Abdimi dicit: non
judicârunt judicia mulctativa. Dixit R. Nachman bar Isaac: ne dicat,
quod non judicârunt judicia mulctativa, sed quod non judicârunt judicia
capitalia. With this may be compared moreover the information given by
Josephus, Antiq. xx. ix. 1, that it was not lawful for Ananus (the high
priest) to assemble the Sanhedrim without the consent of the
procurator. On the other hand the execution of Stephen (Acts vii.)
without the sanction of the Romans might seem to speak to the contrary;
but this was a tumultuary act, undertaken perhaps in the confidence
that Pilate was absent. Compare on this point Lücke, 2, s. 631 ff.

[1925] De bell. Jud. II. ix. 3.

[1926] As Lücke supposes, s. 631.

[1927] Calvin, in loc.

[1928] Lücke and Tholuck, in loc.

[1929] Comp. Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 252.

[1930] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 291.

[1931] Dial. cum Tryph. 103.

[1932] It is doubted whether this custom, of which we should have known
nothing but for the N. T., was of Roman or Jewish origin; comp.
Fritzsche and Paulus, in loc, and Baur, über die ursprungliche
Bedeutung des Passahfestes, u. s. f., Tüb. Zeitschr. f. Theol. 1832, 1,
s. 94.

[1933] According to one reading, the full name of this man was Jesus
Barabbas, which we mention here merely because Olshausen finds it
“remarkable.” Bar Abba meaning Son of the father, Olshausen exclaims:
All that was essential in the Saviour appears in the murderer as
caricature! and he quotes as applicable to this case the verse: ludit
in humanis divina potentia rebus. For our own part, we can only see in
this idea of Olshausen’s a lusus humanæ impotentiæ.

[1934] In the Evang. Nicodemi and in later ecclesiastical historians
she is called Procula Πρόκλη. Comp. Thilo. Cod. Apocr. N. T., p. 522,
Paulus, exeg. Handb., 2, b, s. 640 f.

[1935] Cap. II. s. 520, ap. Thilo.

[1936] Ignat. ad Philippens. iv.: φοβεῖ δὲ τὸ γύναιον, ἐν ὀνείροις αὐτὸ
καταταράττων καὶ παύειν πειρᾶται τὰ κατὰ τὸν σταυρόν. (The devil)
terrifies the woman, troubling her in her dreams, and endeavours to put
a stop to the things of the cross. The Jews in the Evang. Nicodemi, c.
II. p. 524, explain the dream as a result of the magic arts of Jesus:
γόης ἐστι—ἰδοὺ ὀνειρόπεμπτα ἔπεμψε πρὸς τὴν γυναῖκά σου, He is a
magician—see, he has sent messages in a dream to thy wife.

[1937] E.g. Theophylact, vid. Thilo, p. 523.

[1938] Vid. Paulus and Kuinöl, in loc. They especially adduce the dream
of Cæsar’s wife the night before his assassination.

[1939] Comp. Sota, viii 6.

[1940] Fritzsche, in Matth., p. 808.

[1941] Comp. in particular the passages cited by Wetstein, on Matth.
xxvii. 26.

[1942] Paulus, ut sup. s. 647.

[1943] From the explanation of Paulus, s. 649 f., it appears highly
probable that the στέφανος ἐξ ἀκανθῶν was not a crown of sharp thorns,
but one taken from the nearest hedge, in order to deride Jesus by the
vilissima corona, spineola (Plin. H. N. xxi. 10).

[1944] A similar disguising of a man, in derision of a third party, is
adduced by Wetstein, (p. 533 f.) from Philo, in Flaccum.

[1945] Thus Paulus, Kuinöl, Tholuck and Olshausen in their
Commentaries; Neander, L. J. Chr., s. 634.

[1946] Fritzsche, in Marc. 684: Significat Joannes, Jesum suam crucem
portavisse, donec ad Calvariæ locum pervenisset.

[1947] Joseph., Antiq. xiv. vii. 2.

[1948] It is used in the former way by Grotius; in the latter, by
Olshausen, 2. s. 481.

[1949] Comp. Paulus, Fritzsche, and De Wette, in loc.

[1950] Vid. Paulus and Fritzsche, in loc. Winer, bibl. Realw. art.
Golgotha.

[1951] Wassenbergh, Diss. de trajectionibus N. T. in Balcknaer’s scholæ
in 11. quosdam N. T. 2, p. 31.

[1952] Comp. Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 295; Winer, N. T.
Gramm., s. 226, and Fritzsche, in Matt., p. 814.

[1953] Apol. i. 35. Dial. c. Tryph. xcvii.

[1954] Christologie des A. T. 1, a, s. 182 ff.

[1955] Paulus, exeg. Handbuch 3, b, s. 669–754; Bähr, in Tholuck’s
liter. Anzeiger für christl. Theol. 1835, No. 1–6. Comp. also Neander,
L. J. Chr., s. 636, Anm.

[1956] Adv. Marcion, iii. 19.

[1957] Mostellaria, ii. 1.

[1958] Vid. Kuinöl, Paulus, in loc.

[1959] Sanhedrim, f. xliii. 1, ap. Wetstein, p. 635: Dixit R. Chaja, f.
R. Ascher, dixisse R. Chasdam: exeunti, ut capite plectatur, dant
bibendum granum turis in poculo vini, ut alienetur mens ejus, sec. d.
Prov. xxxi. 6: date siceram pereunti et vinum amaris anima.

[1960] Vid. Fritzsche, in loc.

[1961] Comp. Paulas, in loc.

[1962] Thus Kuinöl, in Luc., p. 710 f.; Tholuck, s. 316.

[1963] Comp. also Bleek, Comm. zum Hebräerbrief, 2, s. 312, Anm.; De
Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 198.

[1964] Kuinöl, in Luc. p. 710.

[1965] Olshausen, p. 484; Neander, s. 637.

[1966] Thus Chrysostom and others.

[1967] Beza and Grotius.

[1968] Paulus, s. 763; Winer, N. T. Gramm., s. 143; Fritzsche, in
Matth., p. 817.

[1969] Vid. Thilo, Cod. apocr. 1, s. 143. Further apocryphal
information concerning the two malefactors crucified with Jesus is to
be found in the evang. infant. arab. c. xxiii. ap. Thilo, p. 92 f.;
comp. the note p. 143; in the evang. Nicod. c. ix. 10, Thilo, p. 581
ff.; c. xxvi. p. 766 ff.

[1970] Paulus and Kuinöl, in loc.

[1971] Confessio Judæi ægroti, ap. Wetstein, p. 820:—da portionem meam
in horto Edenis, et memento mei in seculo futuro, quod absconditum est
justis. Other passages are given, ib., p. 819.

[1972] Cetuboth, f. ciii. ap. Wetstein, p. 819: Quo die Rabbi moriturus
erat, venit vox de cœlo, dixitque: qui præsens aderit morienti Rabbi,
ille intrabit in paradisum.

[1973] Vid. Wetstein, in loc. Matth.

[1974] Quoted in Wetstein, p. 536; compare, however, the correction of
the text in Paulus, ex. handb. 3, b, s. 751.

[1975] Tholuck, in loc.

[1976] E. G. Theile, zur Biographie Jesu, § 36, Anm. 13.

[1977] Expositors observe in connexion with this particular, that the
coat of the Jewish high priest was also of this kind. Jos. Antiq. iii.
vii. 4—The same view of the above difference nas been already presented
in the Probabilia, p. 80 f.

[1978] Apol. i. 35.

[1979] Adv. Marcion, ut sup.

[1980] Justin, Apol. i. 50, and elsewhere, even speaks of apostacy and
denial on the part of all the disciples after the crucifixion.

[1981] Vid. Calvin, Comm. in harm. evv. in Matth. xxvii. 46; Olshausen,
in loc.

[1982] Thus Paulus, Gratz, in loc. Schleiermacher, Glaubenslehre, 2, s.
154, Anm.

[1983] Such is the inference drawn by the author of the Wolfenbüttel
Fragments, von Zweck Jesu und seiner Jünger, s. 153.

[1984] Schneckenburger, Beiträge, s. 66 f.

[1985] According to Olshausen, s. 495, there is no syllable in this
speech by which such a meaning is intimated; on the contrary, a secret
horror had already diffused itself over the minds of the scoffers, and
they trembled at the thought that Elias might appear in the storm. But
when one who attempts to give a beverage to Jesus is dissuaded under
the pretext of waiting to see if Elias would come to save him, εἰ
ἔρχεται Ἠλίας, σώσων αὐτὸν, this pretext is plainly enough shown to be
meant in derision, and hence the horror and trembling belong only to
the unscientific animus of the biblical commentator, which makes him
contemplate the history of the passion above all else, as a mysterium
tremendum, and causes him to discover even in Pilate a depth of feeling
which is nowhere attributed to this Roman in the gospels.

[1986] Credner, Einleitung in das N. T. 1, s. 198.

[1987] Thus Rettig, exegetische Analekten, in Ullmann’s und Umbreit’s
Studien, 1830, 1, s. 106 ff.; Tholuck, Glaubwürdigkeit, s. 307 ff.;
comp. on the various attempts at reconciliation Lücke and De Wette, in
loc. Joh.

[1988] The Evang. Nicodemi makes the Jews very absurdly maintain: there
happened an eclipse of the sun in the ordinary course ἔκλειψις ἡλίου
γέγονε κατὰ τὸ εἰωθός, c. xi. p. 592, ap. Thilo.

[1989] Thus Paulus and Kuinöl, in loc.; Hase, L. J. § 143; Neander, L.
J. Chr. s. 639 f.

[1990] Comp. Fritzsche and De Wette, in loc. Matth.

[1991] Tertull. Apologet. c. xxi.; Orig. c. Cels. ii. 33, 59.

[1992] Euseb. can. chron. ad. Ol. 202, Anm. 4; comp. Paulus, s. 765 ff.

[1993] Serv. ad Virgil. Georg. i. 465 ff.: Constat, occiso Cæsare in
Senatu pridie Idus Martias, solis fuisse defectum ab hora sexta usque
ad noctem.

[1994] Echa R. iii. 28.

[1995] R. Bechai Cod. Hakkema: Cum insignis Rabbinus fato concederet,
dixit quidam: iste dies gravis est Israëli, ut cum sol occidit ipso
meridie.

[1996] Succa, f. xxix. 1: Dixerunt doctores: quatuor de causis sol
deficit: prima, ob patrem domus judicii mortuum, cui exequiæ non fiunt
ut decet, etc.

[1997] Vid. Fritzsche, in loc.; comp. also De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1,
s. 238; Theile, zur Biogr. Jesu, § 36.

[1998] Hieron. ad Hedib. ep. cxlix. 8 (comp. his Comm. in loc.): In
evangelio autem, quod hebraicis literis scriptum est, legimus, non
velum templi scissum, sed superliminare templi miræ magnitudinis
corruisse.

[1999] The possibility of this is admitted by Neander also, but with
the presupposition of some fact as a groundwork (s. 640 f.).

[2000] Ueber den Lukas, s. 293. Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb., 1, 1, s.
240.

[2001] Georg. i. 463 ff.

[2002] When Hase, § 143, writes: “The earth trembled, mourning for her
greatest Son,” we see how the historian in speaking of this feature,
which he maintains to be historical, involuntarily becomes a poet; and
when in the second edition the author qualifies the phrase by the
addition of an “as it were:” it is further evident that his historical
conscience had not failed to reproach him for the license.

[2003] Only such must be here thought of, and not sectatores Christi,
as Kuinöl maintains. In the Evang. Nicodemi, c. xvii., there are indeed
adherents of Jesus, namely, Simeon (Luke ii.) and his two sons, among
those who come to life on this occasion; but the majority in this
apocryphal book also, and as well in the ἀναφορὰ Πιλάτου (Thilo, p.
810), according to Epiphanius, orat. in sepulchrum Chr. 275, Ignat. ad
Magnes. IX. and others (comp. Thilo, p. 780 ff.), are Old Testament
persons, as Adam and Eve, the patriarchs and prophets.

[2004] Comp. the various opinions in Thilo, p. 783 f.

[2005] Comp. especially Eichhorn, Einl. in d. N. T. 1, s. 446 ff.

[2006] Stroth, von Interpolationen im Evang. Matth. In Eichhorn’s
Repertorium, 9, s. 139. It is hardly a preferable expedient to regard
the passage as an addition of the Greek translator. See Kern, Ueber den
Urspr. des Evang. Matth. s. 25 and 100.

[2007] Thus Paulus and Kuinöl, in loc. The latter calls this
explanation a mythical one.

[2008] Leben Jesu, § 148.

[2009] Ueber den Urspr. s. 67.

[2010] Paulus, exeg. Handb., 3, b. s. 798.

[2011] Dial. c. Tryph. cxiii.

[2012] See the collection of passages relative to this subject in
Schöttgen, 2, p. 570 ff.; and in Bertholdt’s Christologia, § 35.

[2013] See the passages collected by Wetstein.

[2014] See this idea further developed in the Evang. Nicod. c. xviii.
ff.

[2015] The instances are collected in Paulus, exeg. Handb., 3, b. s.
781 ff.; Winer, bibl. Realwörterb. 1, s. 672 ff.; and Hase, § 144.

[2016] According to Tertullian by the former, according to Grotius by
the latter; see Paulus, s. 784, Anm.

[2017] Thus Gruner and others ap. Paulus, s. 782 ff.; Hase, ut sup.;
Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 647.

[2018] Orig. c. Cels. ii. 36: τῶν μὲν οὖν ἄλλων νεκρῶν σωμάτων τὸ αἷμα
πήγνυται, καὶ ὕδωρ καθαρὸν οὐκ ἀποῤῥει· τοῦ δὲ κατὰ τὸν Ἰησοῦν νεκροῦ
σώματος τὸ παράδοξον, καὶ περὶ τὸ νεκρὸν σῶμα ἦν αἷμα καὶ ὕδωρ ἀπὸ τῶν
πλευρῶν προχυθέν. Comp. Euthymius in loc. ἐκ νεκροῦ γὰρ ἀνθρώπου, κἄν
μυριάκις νύξῃ τις, οὐκ ἐξελεύσεται αἷμα. ὑπερφυὲς τοῦτο τὸ πρᾶγμα, καὶ
τρανῶς διδάσκον, ὅπι ὑπὲρ ἄνθρωπον ὁ νυγείς.

[2019] Schuster, in Eichhorn’s Bibl. 9, s. 1036 ff.

[2020] Gruner, Comm. de morte J. Chr. vera, p. 47; Tholuck, Comm. z.
Joh. s. 318.

[2021] Comp. Hase, ut sup.

[2022] Winer, ut sup.

[2023] Comp. the similar statement of an anatomist in De Wette, in loc.
and Tholuck ut sup.

[2024] Wetstein and Olshausen, in loc.; comp. Hase, ut sup.

[2025] Lücke, in loc.

[2026] Thus Less, Auferstehungsgeschichte, s. 95 f.; Tholuck, in loc.
According to Weisse (die evang. Gesch. 1, s. 102, 2, s. 237 ff.) the
Evangelist referred to a passage of the apostolic epistle, under a
misapprehension of its meaning, namely, to 1 John v. 6: οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ
ἐλθὼν δὶ ὕδατος καὶ αἵματος, Ἰ. ὁ Χρ.· οὐκ ἐν τῷ ὕδατι μόνον, ἀλλ’ ἐν
τῷ ὕδατι καὶ τῷ αἵματι.

[2027] Comp. Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 253.

[2028] Rosenmüller, Schol. in V. T. 7, 4, p. 340.

[2029] Vid. ap. Rosenmüller, in loc.; Schöttgen, 2, p. 221; Bertholdt,
§ 17, not. 12.

[2030] Comp. Joseph, b. j. iv. v. 2. Sanhedrin, vi. 5, ap. Lightfoot,
p. 499.

[2031] Vid. Lipsius, de cruce, L. II. cap. 14.

[2032] Comp. Winer, 1, s. 802.

[2033] Sanhedrin, ap. Lightfoot, p. 499.

[2034] Ulpian, xlviii. 24, 1 ff.

[2035] Vol. II. § 80.

[2036] Michaelis, Begräbniss- und Auferstehungsgeschichte, s. 68 ff.

[2037] Thus Grotius; Less, Auferstehungsgeschichte, s. 165.

[2038] See the fifth Fragment, in Lessing’s viertem Beitrag zur
Geschichte und Literatur, s. 467 f. Comp. concerning these differences
also Lessing’s Duplik.

[2039] Michaelis, ut sup. s. 102 ff.

[2040] Kuinöl, in Luc. p. 721.

[2041] Thus Tholuck, in loc.

[2042] See the Fragments, ut sup. s. 469 ff.

[2043] Michaelis, ut sup. s. 99 f.; Kuinöl and Lücke leave open the
choice between this expedient and the former.

[2044] Comp. De Wette, in loc. Matth.

[2045] Michaelis, ut sup. s. 45 ff.

[2046] Kuinöl, in Matth. p. 786; Hase, § 145; Tholuck, Comm. s. 320.

[2047] A confusion of the κῆπος garden near to the place of execution,
where according to John Jesus was buried, with the garden of
Gethsemane, where he was taken prisoner, appears to have given rise to
the statement of the Evang. Nicodemi, that Jesus was crucified ἐν τῷ
κήπῳ, ὅπου ἐπιάσθη in the garden where he was apprehended, C. ix. p.
580, ap. Thilo.

[2048] Τῇ ἐπαύριον, ἥτις ἐστὶ μετὰ τὴν παρασκευὴν (the next day, that
followed the day of the preparation), is certainly a singular
periphrasis for the sabbath, for it is a strangely inappropriate mode
of expression to designate a solemn day, as the day after the previous
day: nevertheless we must abide by this meaning so long as we are
unable to evade it in a more natural manner than Schneckenburger in his
chronology of the Passion week, Beiträge, s. 3 ff.

[2049] The former, ut sup. s. 437 ff.; the latter in the exeg. Handb.
3, b, s. 837 ff. Comp. Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 253.

[2050] Michaelis, Begräbniss- und Auferstehungsgeschichte, s. 206;
Olshausen 2, s. 506.

[2051] Michaelis, ut sup.

[2052] Olshausen overlooks the latter point when he (ut sup.) says the
watch had not received the command to prevent the completion of the
interment.

[2053] Olshausen indeed is here still so smitten with awe, that he
supposes Pilate to have been penetrated with an indescribable feeling
of dread on hearing this communication from the Sanhedrists, s. 505.

[2054] Olshausen, s. 506.

[2055] Michaelis, ut sup. s. 198 f.

[2056] Stroth, in Eichhorn’s Repertorium, 9, s. 141.

[2057] Kern, über den Ursprung des Ev. Matth. Tüb. Zeitschrift, 1834,
2, s. 100 f.; comp. 123. Compare my Review, Jahrbücher f. wiss. Kritik,
Nov. 1834; now in the Charakteristiken u. Kritiken, s. 280.

[2058] Hase, L. J., § 145.

[2059] Comp. Theile, zur Biogr. Jesu, § 37; Weisse, die Evang. Gesch.
2, s. 343 f.

[2060] Comp. Theile, ut sup.

[2061] Comp. Fritzsche, in loc., and Kern, Tüb. Zeitschr. 1834, 2, s.
102 f.

[2062] Kuinöl, in Marc. p. 194 f.

[2063] Michaelis, ut sup. s. 112.

[2064] Schneckenburger, über den Urspr. des ersten kanon. Evang., s. 62
f. Comp. the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist in Lessing’s viertem Beitrag, s.
472 ff. On the other hand, Lessing’s Duplik, Werke, Donauösch. Ausg. 6.
Thl. s. 394 f.

[2065] De Wette, in loc.

[2066] Michaelis, s. 150 ff.

[2067] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 825.

[2068] Michaelis, s. 117.

[2069] Michaelis, s. 146.—Celsus stumbled at this difference respecting
the number of the angels, and Origen replied that the Evangelists mean
different angels: Matthew and Mark the one who had rolled away the
stone, Luke and John those who were commissioned to give information to
the women, c. Cels. v. 56.

[2070] Paulus, in loc. Matth.

[2071] I subjoin the table sketched by the Fragmentist (ut sup. s. 477
f.)

“1. Luke xxiv. 12: Peter ran to the grave, ἔδραμεν. John xx. 4:
Peter and John ran, ἔτρεχον.

2. Luke v. 12: Peter looked in, παρακύψας. John v. 5: John looked
in, παρακύψας.

3. Luke v. 12: Peter saw the clothes lying alone, βλέπει τὰ ὀθόνια
κείμενα μόνα. John v. 6, 7: Peter saw the clothes lie, and the
napkin not lying with the clothes: θεωρεῖ τὰ ὀθόνια κείμενα, καὶ
τὸ σουδάριον οὐ μετά τῶν ὀθονίων κείμενον.

4. Luke v. 12: Peter went home, ἀπῆλθε πρὸς ἑαυτὸν. John v. 10:
Peter and John went home again, ἀπῆλθον πάλιν πρὸς ἑαυτούς.”

[2072] Kuinöl, in Matth., p. 800 f.

[2073] Progr. de fontibus, unde Evangelistæ suas de resurrectione
Domini narrationes hauserint. Opusc. acad. ed. Gabler, Vol. 2, p. 241
ff.

[2074] Comp. Schneckenburger, ut sup. s. 64 f., Anm.

[2075] On this subject comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 245;
Ammon, Fortbildung des Christenthums zur Weltreligion, 2, 1, s. 6;
Theile, zur Biogr. Jesu, § 37.

[2076] Schulz, über das Abendmahl, s. 321 f.; Schneckenburger, ut sup.
s. 61 ff.

[2077] Vol. II. § 74.

[2078] Concerning this sense of ἐπίστευσεν, and its not being
contradicted by οὔπω γὰρ ἤδεισαν τὴν γραφὴν κ.τ.λ. (v. 9), see the
correct view in Lücke, in loc.

[2079] Weisse is of a different opinion, ut sup. s. 355, Anm.

[2080] As Paulus, Fritzsche, Credner, Einleitung, 1, § 49. Comp. De
Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 2, s. 199 f. A middle view in Hug, Einl. in d.
N. T. 2, § 69.

[2081] Orig. c. Cels. v. 52: ὁ γὰρ τοῦ θεοῦ παῖς, ὡς ἕοικεν. οὐκ
ἐδύνατο ἁνοῖζαι τὸν τάφον, ἁλλα’ ἑδεήθη ἄλλου ἀποκινήσοντος τὴν πέτραν.

[2082] Schuster, in Eichhorn’s allg. Biblioth. 9, s. 1034 ff.: Kuinöl,
in Matth., p. 779.

[2083] Friedrich, über die Engel in der Auferstehungsgeschichte. In
Eichhorn’s allg. Bibl. 6, s. 700 ff. Kuinöl, ut sup.

[2084] Thus a treatise in Eichhorn’s allg. Bibl. 8, s. 629 ff., and in
Schmidt’s Bibl. 2, s. 545 f.; also Bauer, hebr. Myth. 5, s. 259.

[2085] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 829, 55, 60, 62.

[2086] Fritzsche, in Marc. in loc., Nemo—quispiam primi temporis
Christianis tam dignus videri poterat, qui de Messia in vitam reverso
nuntium ad homines perferret, quam angelus, Dei minister, divinorumque
consiliorum interpres et adjutor. Then on the differences in relation
to the number of the angels, etc.: Nimirum insperato Jesu Messiæ in
vitam reditui miracula adjecere alii alia, quæ Evangelistæ religiose,
quemadmodum ab suis auctoribus acceperant, literis mandârunt.

[2087] Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 254 ff.

[2088] In Lessing’s Beiträgen, ut sup. s. 485.

[2089] Michaelis, s. 259 f.; Kuinöl, in Luc., p. 743.

[2090] Schleiermacher, über den Lukas, s. 299 f.; Paulus, s. 910.

[2091] Ut sup. s. 486.

[2092] Griesbach, Vorlesungen über Hermeneutik des N. T., mit Anwendung
auf die Leidens- und Auferstehungsgeschichte Christi, herausgegeben von
Steiner, s. 314.

[2093] Duplik, Werke, 6 Bd. s. 352.

[2094] Schneckenburger, über den Urspr. des ersten kanon. Evang., s. 17
f.

[2095] Exeg. Handb. 3, b. s. 835.

[2096] Bibl. Comm. 2, s. 524.

[2097] This is done by Schulz, über das Abendm. s. 321;
Schneckenburger, ut sup.

[2098] On which account Michaelis, s. 118 f., is of opinion that εἶπεν
was the original reading in Matthew also. Comp. Weisse, die Evang.
Gesch. 2, s. 347 f.

[2099] Vol. I. § 57.

[2100] The opinion that the true locality of the appearances of the
risen Jesus before the disciples was Galilee, is concurred in by
Weisse, 2, s. 358 ff.; but in accordance with his fundamental
supposition concerning the synoptical gospels, he gives the preference
to the narrative of Mark before that of Matthew.

[2101] Vid Billroth’s Commentar, in loc.

[2102] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b. s. 897; Olshausen, 2, s. 541.

[2103] Hieron. de viris illustr. ii.: Evangelium quoque, quod
appellatur secundum Hebræos,—post resurrectionem Salvatoris refert:
Dominus autem, postquam dedisset sindonem servo sacerdotis (apparently
in relation to the watch at the grave, which is here represented as a
sacerdotal instead of a Roman guard; vid. Credner, Beiträge zur Einl.
in das N. T. s. 406 f.), ivit ad Jacobum et apparuit ei. Juraverat enim
Jacobus, se non comesturum panem ab illa hora, qua biberat calicem
Domini, donec videret eum resurgentum a dormientibus (on the
inconceivableness of such a vow, despairing as the disciples were,
comp. Michaelis, s. 122). Rursusque post paululum: Afferte, ait
Dominus, mensam et panem. Statimque additur Tulit panem et benedixit ac
fregit, et dedit Jacobo justo et dixit ei: frater mi, comede panem
tuum, quia resurrexit filius hominis a dormientibus.

[2104] Lessing, Duplik, s. 449 ff.

[2105] As Kern admits, Hauptthats. Tüb. Zeitschr. 1836, 3, s. 57.

[2106] Hauptthatsachen, ut sup. s. 47.

[2107] Comp. De Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 3, s. 205, 210; Weisse, die
evang. Gesch. 2, s. 409.

[2108] Comp. Kaiser, bidl. Theol. 1, s. 254 ff.; De Wette ut sup.;
Ammon, Fortbildung, 2, 1, Kap. 1; Weisse, die Evang. Gesch., 2, 7 tes
Buch.

[2109] That it was the marks of the nails in the hand, which became
visible in the act of breaking bread, by which Jesus was recognized
(Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b. s. 882; Kuinöl, in Luc. p. 734.) is without
any intimation in the text.

[2110] The part of this conversation which relates to John, has already
(§ 116) been considered. In that relating to Peter, the thrice repeated
question of Jesus: Lovest thou me? has reference, according to the
ordinary opinion, to his as often repeated denial; but to the words:
When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself and walkedst whither thou
wouldest, but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy
hands, and another shalt gird thee, and carry thee whither thou
wouldest not, ὅτε ἦς νεώτερος, ἐζώννυες σεαυτὸν καὶ περιεπάτεις ὅπου
ἤθελες· ὅταν δὲ γηράσῃς, ἐκτενεῖς τὰς χεῖράς σου καὶ ἅλλος σε ζὼσει καὶ
οἴσει ὄπου οὐ θέλεις (v. 18 f.), the Evangelist himself gives the
interpretation, that Jesus spoke them to Peter, signifying by what
death he should glorify God. He must here have alluded to the
crucifixion, which, according to the ecclesiastical legend (Tertull. de
præescr. hæer. xxxvi. Euseb. H. E. ii. 25) was the death suffered by
this apostle, and to which in the intention of the Evangelist the words
Follow me, v. 20 and 22 (i.e. follow me in the same mode of death) also
appear to point. But precisely the main feature in this interpretation,
the stretching forth of the hands, is here so placed as to render a
reference to crucifixion impossible, namely, before the leading away
against the will; on the other hand, the girding, which can only
signify binding for the purpose of leading away, should stand before
the stretching forth of the hands on the cross. If we set aside the
interpretation which, as even Lücke (s. 703) admits, is given to the
words of Jesus ex eventu by the narrator: they appear to contain
nothing more than the commonplace of the helplessness of age contrasted
with the activity of youth, for even the phrase, shall carry thee
whither thou wouldest not, does not outstep this comparison. But the
author of John xxi., whether the words were known to him as a
declaration of Jesus or otherwise, thought them capable of being
applied in the manner of the fourth gospel, as a latent prophecy of the
crucifixion of Peter.

[2111] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b. s. 834 ff.; L. J. 1, b. s. 265 ff.;
Ammon, ut sup.; Hase, L. J. § 149; Michaelis, ut sup., s. 251 f. Comp.
also Neander, L. J. Chr. s. 650.

[2112] Tholuck, in loc., comp. Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b. s. 866, 881.
A similar natural explanation has lately been adopted by Lücke, from
Hug.

[2113] Paulus, ut sup. s. 882.

[2114] Paulus, ut sup. 883, 93; Lücke, 2, s. 684 f.

[2115] Calvin, Comm. in Joh. in loc., p. 363 f. ed. Tholuck.

[2116] Thus Suicer, Thes. s. v. θύρα; comp. Michaelis, s. 265.

[2117] Tholuck and Olshausen, in loc.

[2118] Griesbach, Vorlesungen über Hermeneutik, s. 305; Paulus, s. 835.
Comp. Lücke, 2, s. 683 ff.

[2119] Vid. Tholuck and De Wette, in loc.

[2120] Comp. Olshausen, 2, s. 531, Anm.

[2121] Thus, besides Calvin, Lücke, ut sup.; Olshausen, 530 f.

[2122] Olshausen, ut sup. s. 530.

[2123] Comp. Fritzsche, in Marc. p. 725.

[2124] See the various explanations in Tholuck and Lücke, of whom the
latter finds an alteration of the reading necessary. Even Weisse’s
interpretation of the words (2, s. 395 ff.), although I agree with the
general tenor of the explanation of which it forms a part, I must
regard as a failure.

[2125] Comp. on this subject especially Weisse, ut sup. s. 339 ff.

[2126] Brennecke, biblischer Beweis, dass Jesus nach seiner
Auferstehung noch 27 Jahre leibhaftig auf Erden gelebt, und zum Wohle
der Menschheit in der Stille fortgewirkt habe. 1819.

[2127] Ut sup. s. 793, 925. Comp. Briefe über den Rationalismus, s.
240.

[2128] Noch etwas über die Frage: warum haben die Apostel Matthäus und
Johannes nicht ebenso wie die zwei Evangelisten Markus und Lukas die
Himmelfahrt ausdrücklich erzählt? In Süskind’s Magazin, 17, s. 165 ff.

[2129] Joann. Damasc. de f. orth. 4, 1: εἰ καὶ ἐγεύσατο βρώσεως μετὰ
τὴν ἀνάστασιν, ἀλλ’ οὐ νόμῳ φύσευως· οὐ γὰρ ἐπείνασεν· οἰκονομίας δὲ
τρόπῳ τὸ ἀληθὲς πιστούμενος τῆς ἀναστάσεως, ὡς αὐτή ἐστιν ἡ σὰρξ ἡ
παθοῦσα καὶ ἀναστᾶσα.

[2130] The vagueness of the conception which lies at the foundation of
the evangelical accounts is well expressed by Origen, when he says of
Jesus: καὶ ἦν γε μετὰ τὴν ἀνάστασιν αὑτοῦ ὡσπερεὶ ἐν μεθορίῳ τινὶ τῆς
παχύτητος τοῦ πρὸ τοῦ πάθους σώματος, καὶ τοῦ γυμνὴν τοιούτον σώματος
φαίνεσθαι ψυχὴν. After the resurrection, he existed in a form which
held the mean between the materiality of his body before his passion,
and the state of the soul when altogether destitute of such body (c.
Cels. ii. 62).

[2131] Hence even Kern admits that he knows not how to reconcile that
particular in Luke with the rest, and regards it as of later,
traditional origin (Hauptthats., ut sup. s. 50). But what does this
admission avail him, since he still has, from the narrative of John,
the quality of palpability, which equally with the act of eating
belongs to the “conditions of earthly life, the relations of the
material world,” to which the body of the risen Jesus, according to
Kern’s own presupposition, “was no longer subjected”?

[2132] Many fathers of the church and orthodox theologians held the
capability thus exhibited by Jesus of penetrating through closed doors,
not altogether reconcileable with the representation, that for the
purpose of the resurrection the stone was rolled away from the grave,
and hence maintained: resurrexit Christus clauso sepulchro, sive nondum
ab ostio sepulchri revoluto per angelum lapide. Quenstedt, theol.
didact. polem. 3, p. 542.

[2133] Comp. Schleiermacher’s Weihnachtsfeier, s. 117 f.

[2134] Joseph. vita, 75: πεμφθεὶς δὲ ὑπὸ Τίτου Καίσαρος σὺν Κερεαλίῳ
καὶ χιλίοις ἱππεῦσιν εἰς κώμην τινὰ Θεκώαν λεγομένην, πρὸς κατανόησιν,
εἰ τόπος ἐπιτήδειος ἐστι χάρακα δέξασθαι, ὡς ἐκεῖθεν ὑποστρέφων εἶδον
πολλοὺς αἰχμαλώτους ἀνεσταυρωμένους, καὶ τρεῖς γνωρίσας συνήθεις μοὶ
γενομένους, ἤλγησα τὴν ψυχὴν, καὶ μετὰ δακρύων προσελθὼν Τίτῳ εἴπον. Ὁ
δ’ εὐθὺς ἐκέλευσεν καθαιρεθέντας αὐτοὺς θεραπείας ἐπιμελεστάτης τυχεῖν.
καὶ οἱ μὲν δύο τελευτῶσιν θεραπευόμενοι, ὁ δὲ τρίτος ἔζησεν. And when I
was sent by Titus Cæsar with Cerealius and 1,000 horsemen, to a certain
village called Thecoa, in order to know whether it were a place fit for
a camp, as I came back, I saw many captives crucified; and remembered
three of them as my former acquaintance. I was very sorry at this in my
mind, and went with tears in my eyes to Titus, and told him of them; so
he immediately commanded them to be taken down, and to have the
greatest care taken of them, in order to their recovery; yet two of
them died under the physician’s hands, while the third recovered. For
the arguments of Paulus on this passage, see exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 786;
and in the Appendix, s. 929 ff.

[2135] Bretschneider, über den angeblichen Scheintod Jesu am Kreuze, in
Ullmann’s und Umbreit’s Studien, 1832, 3, s. 625 ff.; Hug, Beiträge zur
Geschichte des Verfahrens bei der Todesstrafe der Kreuzigung,
Freiburger Zeitschr. 7, s. 144 ff.

[2136] Bahrdt, Ausführung des Plans und Zwecks Jesu. Comp. on the other
hand, Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, 793 f.

[2137] Xenodoxien, in der Abh.: Joseph und Nikodemus. Comp. on the
other hand Klaiber’s Studien der würtemberg. Geistlichkeit, 2, 2, s. 84
ff.

[2138] Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 785 ff. L. J. 1, b, s. 281 ff.

[2139] Schuster, in Eichhorn’s allg. Biblioth. 9, s. 1053.

[2140] Winer, bibl. Realw. 1, s. 674.

[2141] Orig. c. Cels. ii. 63: Μετὰ ταῦτα ὁ Κέλσος οὐκ εὐκαταφροντήτως
τὰ γεγραμμένα κακολογῶν, φησὶν, ὅτι ἐχρῆν, εἶπερ ὄντως θείαν δύναμιν
ἑκφῇναι ἤθελεν ὁ Ἰ., αὐτοῖς τοῖς ἐπηρεάσασι καὶ τῷ καταδικάσαντι καὶ
ὅλως πᾶσιν ὀφθῆναι.—67: οὐ γὰρ—ἐπὶ τοῦτ’ ἐπέμφθη τὴν ἀρχὴν, ἵνα λάθῃ.
Comp. the Wolfenbüttel Fragmentist, in Lessing, s. 450, 60, 92 ff.;
Woolston, Disc 6. Spinoza, ep. 23, ad Oldenburg, p. 558 f. ed. Gfrörer.

[2142] Ut sup. 67: ἐφείδετο γὰρ καὶ τοῦ καταδικάσαντος καὶ τῶν
ἐπηρεασάντων ὁ Χριστὸς, ἵνα μὴ παταχθῶσιν ἀορασίᾳ.

[2143] Comp. Mosheim, in his translation of the work of Origen against
Celsus, on the passage above quoted; Michaelis, Anm. zum fünften
Fragment, s. 407.

[2144] Hase, L. J., § 149; Diss.: librorum sacrorum de J. Chr. a
mortuis revocato atque in cœlum sublato narrationem collatis vulgaribus
illa ætate Judæorum de morte opinionibus interpretari conatus est C. A.
Frege, p. 12 f.; Weisse, die evang. Gesch. 2, s. 362 ff.

[2145] Orig. c. Cels. ii. 55: τίς τοῦτο εἶδε (the pierced hands of
Jesus, and, in general, his appearances after the resurrection), γυνὴ
πάροιστρος, ὡς φατὲ, καὶ εἴ τις ἄλλος τῶν ἐκ τῆς αὐτῆς γοητείας, ἤτοι
κατά τινα διάθεσιν ὀνειρώξας, ἢ κατὰ τὴν αὐτοῦ βούλησιν δόξῃ
πεπλανημένῃ φαντασιωθεὶς, ὅπερ δὴ μυρίοις συμβέβηκεν· ἢ, ὅπερ μᾶλλον,
ἐκπλῆξαι τοὺς λοιποὺς τῇ τερατείᾳ ταύτῃ θελήσας, καὶ διὰ τοῦ τοιούτου
ψεύσματος ἀφορμὴν ἄλλοις ἀγύρταις παρασχεῖν.

[2146] The 5th Fragment, in Lessing’s 4th Beitrag. Woolston, Disc. 8.

[2147] Ut sup. 56.

[2148] Ullmann, Was setzt die Stiftung der Christlichen Kirche durch
einen Gekreuzigten voraus? In his Studien, 1832, 3, s. 589 f. (Röhr);
Briefe über den Rationalismus, s. 28, 236. Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b,
s. 826 f.; Hase, § 146.

[2149] Spinoza, ut sup.: Apostolos omnes omnino credidisse, quod
Christus a morte resurrexerit, et ad cœlum revera ascenderit—ego non
nego. Nam ipse etiam Abrahamus credidit, quod Deus apud ipsum pransus
fuerit—cum tamen hæc et plura alia hujusmodi apparitiones seu
revelationes fuerint, captui et opinionibus eorum hominum accommodatæ,
quibus Deus mentem suam iisdem revelare voluit. Concludo itaque Christi
a mortuis resurrectionem revera spiritualem, et solis fidelibus ad
eorum captum revelata fuisse, nempe quod Christus æternitate donatus
fuit, et a mortuis (mortuos hic intelligo eo sensu, quo Christus dixit:
sinite mortuos sepelire mortuos suos) surrexit, simul atque vita et
morte singularis sanctitatis exemplum dedit, et eatenus discipulos suos
a mortuis suscitat, quatenus ipsi hoc vitæ ejus et mortis exemplum
sequuntur.

[2150] Die evang. Gesch. 2, s. 426 ff.

[2151] Versuch über die Auferstehung Jesu, in Schmidt’s Bibliothek, 2,
4, s. 545 ff.

[2152] Ibid., s. 537; Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 258 f.; Frege, ut sup.
p. 13.

[2153] In his allg. Bibliothek, 6, 1, s. 1 ff.

[2154] Comm. exeg. de repentina Sauli—conversione. In his opusc.
theol.; Fortbildung des Christenth. 2, 1, Kap. 3. Comp. also my
Streitschriften, 2tes Heft, s. 52 ff.

[2155] Gesch. der Pflanzung und Leitung der Christl. Kirche durch die
Apostel, 1, s. 75 ff.

[2156] This is done in the treatise in Schmidt’s Bibliothek, and by
Kaiser, ut sup.

[2157] Comp. Weisse, ut sup. p. 398 ff.

[2158] Comp. Friedrich, in Eichhorn’s Biblioth. 7, s. 223.

[2159] Comp. also Schmidt’s Biblioth. 2, s. 548.

[2160] May the three days’ abode of Jonah in the whale have had any
influence on this determination of time? or the passage in Hosea quoted
above, § 111, note 3? The former is indeed only placed in this
connexion in one gospel, and the latter is nowhere used in the N. T.

[2161] Compare with this explanation the one given by Weisse, in the
7th chapter of his work above quoted. He agrees with the above
representation in regarding the death of Jesus as real, and the
narratives of the grave being found empty as later fabrications; the
point in which he diverges is that above mentioned—that in his view the
appearances of the risen Jesus are not merely psychological and
subjective, but objective magical facts.

[2162] Vol. II. § 68.

[2163] Apol. i. 61.

[2164] As is done by Teller, im excurs. 2, ad Burneti I. de fide et
offic. Christ, p. 262.

[2165] The work of Beckhaus, über die Aechtheit der sog. Taufformel,
1794, met with general approval.

[2166] Comp. De Wette. exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 246.

[2167] Comp. Baur, in the Tübinger Zeitschrift fur Theologie, Jahrgang
1830, 2, s. 75 ff.

[2168] Comm. z. Joh., s. 332.

[2169] Lücke, Comm. z. Joh. 2, s. 686; De Wette, s. 204.

[2170] Less, Auferstehungsgeschichte, s. 281; Kuinöl, in loc.

[2171] Lücke, s. 687.

[2172] Vid. ap. Michaelis, Begräbniss- und Auferstehungsgeschichte, s.
268; Olshausen, 2, s. 533.

[2173] This is Tholuck’s opinion, ut sup.

[2174] Comp. Weisse, die evang. Geschichte, 2, s. 418.

[2175] Gabler, in the neuesten theol. Journal 3, s. 417, and in the
Vorrede zu Griesbach’s opusc. acad. p. xcvi. comp. Kuinöl, in Marc., p.
222.

[2176] Seiler, ap. Kuinöl, ut sup. s. 223.

[2177] Comp. Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b, s. 921; De Wette, Religion und
Theologie, s. 161.

[2178] Kern, Hauptthatsachen, Tüb. Zeitschrift, 1836, 3, s. 58, Comp.
Steudel (Glaubenslehre, s. 323), who supposes the ascension to have
been a vision which God produced in the disciples. Against this comp.
my Streitschriften, 1, s. 152 ff.

[2179] See especially Paulus, ut sup. s. 910 ff.; L. J. 1, b, s. 318
ff.

[2180] Briefe über den Rationalismus, s. 146, Anm. 28.

[2181] Seiler, ap. Kuinöl, ut sup. s. 221; Olshausen, s. 591 f. Comp.
Griesbach, locorum N. T. ad ascensionem Christi in cœlum spectantium
sylloge. In his opusc. acad. ed. Gabler, vol. 2, s. 484 ff.

[2182] Schneckenburger, über den Urspr. u. s. f., s. 19.

[2183] Olshausen, s. 593 f.

[2184] Even Fritzsche, weary at the conclusion of his labour, writes in
Matth., p. 835: Matthæus Jesu in cœlum abitum non commemoravit, quippe
nemini ignotum.

[2185] Michaelis, ut sup. 352.

[2186] The treatise: Warum haben nicht alle Evangelisten die
Himmelfahrt Jesu ausdrücklich miterzählt? in Flatt’s Magazin, 8, s. 67.

[2187] The above-named Treatise in Flatt’s Magazin.

[2188] Schneckenburger, ut sup. s. 19 f.

[2189] As by Kuinöl, p. 208 f., 217.

[2190] Nevertheless comp. De Wette on the Acts, i. 12.

[2191] Vid. Vol. i., § 56, and the authors there cited. The reference
to a reckoning in Daniel, in Paulus, exeg. Handb. 3, b. s. 923, appears
to me too artificial.

[2192] On this subject comp. especially Ammon, Ascensus J. C, in cœlum
historia biblica. In his opusc. nov. p. 43 ff. Fortbildung des
Christenth. 2, 1, s. 13 ff.; also Kaiser, bibl. Theol. 1, s. 83 ff.; de
Wette, exeg. Handb. 1, 1, s. 247; Weisse, die evang. Gesch. 2, p. 375
ff.

[2193] This is also Hase’s opinion, L. J. § 150.

[2194] Joseph. Antiq. iv., viii. 48, it is said of Moses: And as he was
going to embrace Eleazar and Joshua, and was still discoursing with
them, a cloud stood over him on a sudden, and he disappeared in a
certain valley, although he wrote in the holy books that he died, which
was done out of fear, lest they should venture to say that because of
his extraordinary virtue, he went to God. Philo, however, vita Mosis,
opp. ed. Mangey, vol. ii. p. 179, makes the soul only of Moses ascend
into heaven.

[2195] Iren. adv. hær. i. 10. Tertull. de præscr. hær. xiii. adv. Prax.
ii. de veland. virg. i. Orig. de principp. proem. iv.

[2196] Iren. adv. hær. iii. xviii. 7.

[2197] Athanas. contra Arianos, orat. 2, 33.

[2198] Gregor. Naz. Or. 51, p. 740, B.: τὸ γὰρ ἀπρόσληπτον ἀθεράπευμον.
ὃ δὲ ἥνωται τῷ θεῷ, τοῦτο καὶ σώζεται.

[2199] —ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν ὁμολογεῖν υἱὸν τὸν κύριον ἡμῶν Ἰ. Χ. συμφώνως
ἄπαντες ἐκδιδάσκομεν, τέλειον τὸν αὐτὸν ἐν θεότητι, καὶ τέλειον τὸν
αὐτὸν ἐν ἀνθρωπότητι, θεὸν ἀληθῶς καὶ ἄνθρωπον ἀληθῶς τὸν αὐτὸν ἐκ
ψυχῆς λογικῆς καὶ σώματος, ὁμοούσιον τῷ πατρὶ κατὰ τὴν θεότητα, καὶ
ὁμοούσιον τὸν αὐτὸν ἡμῖν κατὰ τὴν ἀνθρωπότητα, κατὰ πάντα ὅμοιον ἡμῖν
χωρὶς ἁμαρτίας· πρὸ αἰώνων μὲν ἐκ τοῦ πατρὸς γεννηθέντα κατὰ τὴν
θεότητα, ἐπ’ ἐσχάτων δὲ τῶν ἡμερῶν τὸν αὐτὸν δι’ ἡμᾶς καὶ διὰ τὴν
ἡμετέραν σωτηρίαν ἐκ Μαρίας τῆς παρθένου τῆς θεοτόκου κατὰ τὴν
ἀνθρωπότητα, ἕνα καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν Χριστὸν, υἱὸν, κύριον, μονογενῆ, ἐκ δύο
φύσεων ασυνχύτως, ἀτρέπτως, ἀδιαιρέτως, ἀχωρίστως γνωριζόμενον· οὐδαμοῦ
τῆς τῶν φύσεων διαφορᾶς ἀνῃρημένης διὰ τὴν ἕνωσιν, σωζομένης δὲ μᾶλλον
τῆς ἰδιότητος ἑκατέρας φύσεως, καὶ εἰς ἓν πρόσωπον καὶ μίαν ὑπόστασιν
συντρεχούσης· οὐκ εἰς δύο πρόσωπα μεριζόμενον ἣ διαιρούμενον, ἀλλ’ ἔνα
καὶ τὸν αὐτὸν υἱὸν καὶ μονογενῆ, θεὸν λόγον, κύριον Ἰ. Χ.

[2200] The 6th Œcumenical Synod of Constantinople declared: δύο φυσικὰ
θελήματα οὐχ ὑπεναντία,—ἀλλ’ ἑπόμενον τὸ ἀνθρώπινον αὐτοῦ θέλημα—καὶ
ὑποτασσόμενον τῷ θείῷ αὐτοῦ καὶ πανσθενεῖ θελήματι.

[2201] Athanas. de incarn. 54: αὐτὸς ἐνηνθρώπησεν, ἵνα ἡμεῖς
θεοποιηθῶμεν. Greg. Nyt. Orat. cass. 35: τότε τε κατεμίχθη πρὸς τὸ
θεῖον, ἵνα τὸ ἡμέτερον τῇ πρὸς τὸ θεῖον ἐπιμιξίᾳ γένηται θεῖον. Joann.
Damasc. de f. orth. iii. 20: πάντα ἀνέλαβεν (τὰ αδιάβλη τὰ πάθη τοῦ
ἀνθρώπου ὁ Χ.) ἵνα πάντα ἁγιάση. Greg. Naz. or. ii. 23 f. Hilar.
Pictav. de trin. ii. 24: humani generis causa Dei filius natus ex
virgine est—ut homo factus ex virgine naturam in se carnis acciperet
perque hujus admixtionis societatem sanctificatum in eo universi
generis humani corpus existeret. For other expressions of the kind, see
Münscher, Dogmengesch., herausg. von Cölln, 1, § 97, Anm. 10.

[2202] Münscher, § 96, Anm. 5, s. 423 f.

[2203] Augustin, de Catechiz. rudib. 7.

[2204] Vid. Münscher, § 96.

[2205] Ibid. § 97.

[2206] Comp. Form. Concord., Epit. und Sol. decl. VIII. p. 605 ff. and
761 ff. ed. Hase. Chemniz, de duabus naturis in Christo libellus, and
loci theol., loc. 2, de filio; Gerhard. II. th. 1, p. 640 ff. (ed.
1615); Quenstedt, theol. didact. polem. P. 3, c. 3. Comp. De Wette,
bibl. Dogm. § 64 ff.

[2207] See the Oratio appended to the locus de pers. et offic. Chr.
Gerhard, ut sup. p. 719 ff.

[2208] Vid. Gerhard, II. th. 1, p. 685 ff.; Marheineke, Instit. symb. §
71 f.

[2209] Reinhard, Vorles. über die Dogm. s. 354, conformably to the
proposition urged by the Reformed against the Lutherans: Nulla natura
in se ipsam recipit contradictoria, Planck, Gesch. des protest.
Lehrbegriffs, Bd. 6, s. 782.

[2210] Fausti Socini de Christi natura disputatio. Opp. Bibl. Fr. Pol.
1, p. 784; Catech. Racov. Q. 96 ff. Comp. Marheineke, Instit. symb. §
96. Spinoza, also, ep. 21, ad Oldenburg, Opp. ed. Gfrörer, p. 556,
says: Quod quædam ecclesiæ his adduut, quod Deus naturam humanam
assumpserit, monui expresse, me, quid dicant, nescire; imo, ut verum
fatear, non minus absurde mihi loqui videntur, quam si quis mihi
diceret, quod circulus naturam quadrati induerit.

[2211] (Röhr) Briefe über den Rationalismus, s. 378 ff.; Wegscheider
Inst. theol. § 128; Bretschneider, Handb. der Dogm. 2, § 137 ff.; also
Kant, Relig. innerhalb der Gränzen der blossen Vernunft. 2tes St. 2ter
Absch. b.

[2212] Glaubenslehre, 2, §§ 96–98.

[2213] Spinoza, tract. theol. polit. c. vi. p. 133. ed. Gfrörer, and
ep. 23, ad Oldenburg, p. 558 f. Briefe über den Rat., 4ter, 5ter, 6ter,
12ter. Wegscheider, §§ 11, 12. Schleiermacher, §§ 14, 47.

[2214] Prælect. theol. c. xv.

[2215] In the work: defensio fidei cath. de satisfactione Chr. adv. F.
Socinum.

[2216] Summa, P. 3, Q. 48, A. 2.

[2217] Comm. in Sentt. L. 3, Dist. 19.

[2218] See, besides Socinus, Kant, Relig. innerhalb der Grenzen der
blossen Vernunft, 2tes Stück, 1ter Abschn., c.

[2219] Töllner, Der thätige Gehorsam Christi untersucht. 1768.

[2220] Wegscheider, § 199.

[2221] Compare with what follows especially the Briefe über den
Rationalismus, s. 372 ff.; Wegscheider, §§ 128, 133, 140.

[2222] For the different views, see Bretschneider, Dogm. 2, s. 353,
systematische Entwicklung, § 107.

[2223] Röhr, Briefe, s. 36, 405 ff.

[2224] Schleiermacher, on his Glaubenslehre, to Dr. Lücke, 2tes
Sendschreiben, Studien, 2, 3, s. 481 ff.

[2225] Glaubenslehre, 2, §§ 92–105.

[2226] This opinion has been already put forth in the most noted
reviews of Schleiermacher’s system; comp. Braniss, über
Schleiermacher’s Glaubenslehre; H. Schmid, über Schl. Glaubensl. s. 263
ff.; Baur, die christl. Gnosis, s. 626 ff., and the Review of
Rosenkranz, Jahrb. fur wiss. Kritik, 1831.

[2227] 2ter Sendschreiben.

[2228] Schmid, ut sup.

[2229] Comp. Rosenkranz, ut sup. s. 935 ff.

[2230] Baur, ut sup. s. 653.

[2231] Thus Schmid, ut sup. s. 267.

[2232] Ep. 21, ad Oldenburg. Opp. ed. Gfrörer, p. 556:—dico, ad salutem
non esse omnino necesse, Christum secundum carnem noscere; sed ed
æterno illo filio Dei, h. e. Dei æterna sapientia, quæ sese in omnibus
rebus, et maxime in mente humana, et omnium maxime in Christo Jesu
manifestavit, longe aliter sentiendum. Nam nemo absque hac ad statum
beatitudinis potest pervenire, utpote quæ sola docet, quid verum et
falsum, bonum et malum sit.

[2233] Religion innerhalb der Gränzen der blossen Vernunft. drittes
Stück, 1te Abthl. vii.

[2234] Ut sup. 2tes Stück, 1ter Abschn. 3tes Stück, 1te Abthlg.

[2235] This is shown by Baur, christl. Gnosis, s. 660 ff.

[2236] Censur des christl. protestantischen Lehrbegriffs, 3, s. 180.

[2237] Religion und Theologie, 2ter Abschnitt, Kap. 3; comp. bibl.
Dogmatik, § 255; kirchliche, § 64 ff.

[2238] Ideen über Mythologie u. s. w. in Henke’s neuer Magazin, b. s.
454 ff. Comp. Henke’s Museum, 3, s. 455.

[2239] Vorlesungen über die Methode des akademischen Studiums, s. 192.

[2240] Hegel’s Phänomenologie des Geistes, s. 561 ff.; Vorlesungen über
die Philos. der Relig. 2, s. 234 ff. Marheineke, Grundlehren der
christl. Dogmatik. s. 174 ff. Rosenkranz, Encyklopädie der theol.
Wissenschaften, s. 38 ff., 148 ff.; comp. my Streitschriften, 3tes
Heft, s. 76 ff.

[2241] Dogmatik, § 326.

[2242] Encyklopädie, s. 160.

[2243] Selbstbewusstsein und Offenbarung, s. 295 f. Comp. Bauer,
Recens. des L. J., Jahrbücher f. wiss. Kritik, 1836, Mai, s. 699 ff.

[2244] Compare with this my Streitschriften, 3 Heft, s. 68 ff. 125.

[2245] With this should be compared the explanation in the
Streitschriften, ut sup. s. 119.

[2246] Of this also there is an explanation in the Streitschriften, 3,
s. 166 f.

[2247] Herein lies the answer to the objection which Schaller (der
historische Christus und die Philosophie, s. 64 ff.) has made to the
above view; namely, that it teaches only a substantial, not a personal
unity of man with God. That unity which exists in the determination of
the race has already been present in individuals separately, according
to the different measure of their religious development, and thus the
substantial unity has become, in different degrees, a personal unity.

[2248] Vorlesungen über die Philosophie der Religion, 2, s. 263 ff.
Compare the collection of the several propositions of Hegel on the
person of Christ and the evangelical history, in my Streitschriften, 3.
Heft, s. 76.

[2249] Glaubenslehre, 1, s. 47.

[2250] In the 2ten Sendschreiben on his Glaubenslehre.

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