JR62: Seventh & Final Step: Remove the Thorn in Jesus' Flesh (That Would Be Paul)

A: We've talked a lot on this site and on the Concinnate Christianity blog about the differences between your teachings and Paul's teachings. Many readers will say there's not much evidence in the Bible for the differences you and I claim. What would you say to Progressive Christians who want to "have their Jesus and keep their Paul, too," who want to make you, Jesus, more credible, without actually giving up any of their cherished Pauline doctrines?

J: They make me look like a dweeb, to be honest. An ineffectual, wimpy, turn-the-other-cheek kind of guy.

A: Which you were not.

J: They say they want to save me from the fundamentalist Christian right and the secular humanist left, yet they're forcing me to sit down at the Tea Party table with Paul, which is the last place I want to be. I'm a middle of the road social democrat, and I believe with all my heart and soul that a society can't function in a balanced way unless rights and responsibilities are given equal weight in all spheres of life. Paul was a man who taught about rights, rights, rights and not nearly enough about responsibilities. He and I had very different values.

A: Paul talks about punishments.

J: Yes. Paul talks about divine punishment and divine testing. He talks about his freedom -- his right -- to speak with divine authority. He talks about the need for self-discipline. He talks about divine rewards. But, you know, when you look carefully at what he's written, he doesn't speak to the soul of his listeners. He doesn't challenge them to see each of their neighbours as a separate person worthy of respect. Instead he does the opposite: he encourages them to see themselves as non-distinct members of a vast "body of Christ." Paul, instead of insisting that people build solid interpersonal boundaries -- which are the foundation of safety and respect and mutuality between individuals -- tells people to dissolve those boundaries. It sounds good on paper, but "Oneness" does not work in reality. If you encourage the dissolution of interpersonal boundaries, you'll see to your horror that the psychopaths in your midst will jump in and seize that "Oneness" for themselves. They won't hesitate to use it to their advantage.

A: Because they have no conscience.

J: Humans (as well as angels on the Other Side) are all part of One Family. But this isn't the same as saying humans are all "One." As anyone who comes from a big family knows, respect for boundaries is the grease that keeps you from killing each other.

A: It can be tricky to manoeuvre all the boundary issues in a big family.

J: Yes. You need all the brain power you can muster to stay on top of the different needs of different family members.

A: Spoken like a man who came from a big family.

J: When you're the youngest son in a family with three older brothers and two sisters (one older, one younger), you catch on fast to the idea of watching and learning and listening to the family dynamics so you don't get your butt kicked all the time.

A: It's real life, that's for sure.

J: That's the thing. It's real life. It's not about going off into the desert to live as a religious hermit. It's not about living inside walled compounds or hilltop fortresses. It's about living with your neighbours and learning to get along with them through communication and compromise and empathy. It's not fancy, but it works.

A: The Gospel of Mark makes this message very clear.

"Then he ordered them to get all the people to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and of fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all. And all ate and were filled" (Mark 6:39-42). Photo of hills in the Cotswolds, UK. Credit JAT 2023.

 
J: Christians have long assumed that the author of Luke truly believed in my teachings and was trying his best to convey them in a fresh way to a new generation of believers. Luke, of course, had no interest in my teachings, and was instead trying to promote Paul's package of religio-political doctrines. This is seen most obviously in the so-called Great Omission -- the complete absence in Luke of Mark's most important theological statement. Luke cut and pasted many parts of Mark's gospel, and thereby changed their meaning. But he didn't even try to include the dangerous theology found in Mark 6:47- 8:27a. He ignored it and hoped it would go away.

A: Why? Why did he want it to go away?

J: Mark's gospel, as we've been discussing, was a direct rebuttal of Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians. Paul wrote first, and in the middle of his letter he included 3 linked chapters on freedom and conscience, authority and obedience, sin and salvation, as these themes revolve around food -- idol meat and, more importantly, the blood and bread of Christ (1 Cor 8:1-11:1). We can call this set-piece the "Idol Meat Discourse." In this set-piece, Paul makes a number of claims about God that Mark, following my example, found particularly galling. Mark countered these claims by writing his own 3-chapter set-piece (Mark 6:30-8:26). I'm going to call Mark's set-piece "the Parable of the Idol Bread." This was Mark's head-on attack against Paul's Eucharist.

A: Mark didn't support the sacrament of the Last Supper?

J: Mark knew that Paul's speech about sharing in the blood and body of Christ (1 Cor 10:14-22) was a thinly veiled Essene ritual, the occult Messianic Banquet that had grown out of earlier, more honest offerings of thanks to God. I rejected the notion of the Messianic Banquet, with its invocation of hierarchy and status addiction. Mark rejected it, too.

A: Right before Mark launches into his Parable of the Idol Bread, he includes an allegorical tale about a banquet held by Herod and the subsequent beheading of John the Baptist (which we know didn't actually happen).

J: Yes. Mark uses a lot of sophisticated allegory in his gospel. (Plus I think the less loving aspect of him wanted to see John's head end up on a platter, which is where he thought it belonged.) Mark leads up to his set-piece -- which, of course, is an anti-Messianic-banquet -- by tipping off the reader to an upcoming inversion of religious expectations. He's telling them not to expect Paul's easy promises and glib words about "Oneness." He's telling them to prepare themselves for an alternate version of Jesus' teachings about relationship with God.

A: What was that alternate version? 

J: It was a radical vision of equality before God, of inclusiveness and non-Chosenness. It was a vision of faith without status addiction. Of faith and courage in numbers. Of freedom from the slavery of the Law. The love of a mother for her children (including our Divine Mother's love for her children!). A relationship with God founded on trust rather than fear. The healing miracles that take place in the presence of love rather than piety. The ability of people to change and let go of their hard-heartedness (ears and eyes being opened). The Garden of Eden that is all around, wherever you look, if you're willing to see and hear the truth for yourself. The failure of both the Pharisees and the Herodians to feed the starving spiritual hearts of the people. The personal responsibility that individuals bear for the evil things they choose to do. The importance of not idolizing the words of one man. (There's no lengthy "Sermon on the Mount" in Mark as in Matthew; in fact, there's no sermon at all, let alone a set of laws carved on stone tablets!)

A: That's a lot to pack into three short chapters.

J: This is why I refer to Mark's set-piece as a parable. As with any properly written parable, the message isn't immediately obvious. You have to use all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength in order to suss out the meaning.

A: I noticed when I was doing my research papers for a New Testament exegesis course that the setting of Mark's Parable of the Idol Bread is crucial. Not one but two major teaching events with miraculous endings take place out in the middle of nowhere near the Sea of Galilee. There's no proximity to important sacred sites such as Jerusalem or Jericho or the Dead Sea or the River Jordan. There's no Greco-Roman temple or Jerusalem Temple. There's no holy mountain. There's no sacred stone. There's no palace or patron's villa. But there's a lot of green grass, with enough room for everybody to recline in groups (as in a Roman banquet) and share the event together.

In the middle section, in Chapter 7, Mark shows you leaving Galilee to carry out more healing miracles, but these healings take place in Gentile areas -- everywhere but the sacred site of David's city. You can tell Mark doesn't think too much of Jerusalem's elite.

J: Mark had a scathing sense of humour, much like Jon Stewart's. When he wrote his gospel, he was thinking of it as a parable and a play at the same time. He wanted the actions of the actors to speak to the intent of the teachings.

A: Actions speak more loudly than words.

J: Yes. He wanted people to picture the actions, the geographical movements, that changed constantly in his story but never went close to Jerusalem in the first act of his two-act play. His Jewish audience would have understood the significance of this.

A: Tell me about the Idol Bread.

J: The meaning of the bread in Mark's parable makes more sense if you look at the Greek. In Mark's parable, and again at the scene of the so-called Last Supper in Mark 14, the bread in question is leavened bread -- artos in the Greek -- not unleavened bread, which is an entirely different word in Greek (azymos). Mark shows me constantly messing with the bread and breaking all the Jewish laws around shewbread and Shavuot bread and Passover bread. At the teaching events beside the Sea of Galilee, the bread is given to the people rather than being received from the people in ritual sacrifice. It's torn into big hunks. It's handed out to everyone regardless of gender or rank or clan or purity. It's handed out with a blessing on a day that isn't even a holy day. Nobody washes their hands first. Everyone receives a full portion of humble food. Everyone eats together.

A: If the fish in this parable are a metaphor for courage and strength (see http://jesusredux.blogspot.com/2011/05/marks-themes-of-understanding-and.html ) then what does the bread represent?

J: Artos -- which is very similar to the Greek pronoun autos, which means "self" and, with certain prepositions, "at the same time; together" -- is a metaphor for the equality of all people before God. Everybody needs their daily bread regardless of status or bloodline or rank. It's about as status-free a symbol as you can get.

A: Something tells me that got lost in the Pauline translation.

JR44: Mark's Themes of Understanding and Strength

This is a research paper I wrote in 2009 for a course on New Testament exegesis. It explains in detail some of the major themes found in the Gospel of Mark. 

The paper pasted here is exactly as I wrote it, including the endnotes, where I confess I don't yet understand how the word "artos" (leavened bread, loaf) is being used by Mark. Since then (with Jesus' help), I've figured it out.

“Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, ‘Watch out — beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.’ They said to one another, ‘It is because we have no bread.’ And becoming aware of it, Jesus said to them, ‘Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ They said to him, ‘Twelve.’ And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?’ And they said to him, ‘Seven.’ Then he said to them, ‘Do you not yet understand?'” (Mark 8:14-21). Photo credit JAT 2021.

 

 
RADICAL MESSIAH AND THE SHEMA: MARK’S THEMES OF
UNDERSTANDING AND STRENGTH

Graham Stanton, in his discussion about the Gospel of Mark, refers to "Mark’s genius as a story-teller" (41), and says, "perhaps Mark should be seen not so much as a block of toffee (form criticism) or as a string of pearls (redaction criticism), but as a piece of rope with interwoven strands" (41). Later in the chapter, he asks these questions: "Why was this gospel written? Many scholars have proposed quite specific historical or theological settings. But they are usually able to make reasonable sense of only one or two of the many interrelated strands which the evangelist develops" (57-58). One strand which I feel has been overlooked is Mark’s overt addition to the Shema (Deut. 6:4-9) in Chapter12:29 of the Gospel. So obvious would this change have been to a Jewish Christian audience in the early to mid-60's CE that the question of Mark’s purpose must be raised. What was he signalling to his audience with this change? Why did he dare add to a well-known prayer that, according to the Jewish Study Bible, was being formally recited late in the Second Temple period (379)? It is the thesis of this paper that Mark did not accidentally alter the Shema through lack of knowledge, and that he did not accidentally link the Shema to the commandment in Leviticus 19:18 to love one’s neighbour as oneself (12:31). There was a purpose to his addition of the phrase "and with all your mind (διανοίας)" to the existing formulation of "you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart (καρδίας) and with all your soul (ψυχnς) and with all your might (iσχύος)." This supposition is supported by Mark’s repetition of the Shema in 12:32-33, altered yet again, this time without genitive cases, and with a changed emphasis to understanding (συνέσεως). Here the sympathetic – and sensible (νουνεχwς) – scribe is allowed by Mark to voice the two most important commandments: "You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other; and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ – this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices." The penny then drops for readers as Jesus says to the scribe, "You are not far from the kingdom of God" (present tense verb, 12:34). Mark has just presented a major clue to unravelling some of the strands of his gospel.

The altered Shema is part of a teaching chreia (12:28-34) that can be seen, it is argued here, as an early creedal statement, the climax and summary of Jesus’ teachings about what it means to be "not far from the kingdom of God" (12:34). It is difficult to understand Jesus’ teachings about the kingdom of God, says Mark in different ways throughout the Gospel. Even Jesus’ closest friends, the disciples, do not understand (4:10-13). The whole thing can be boiled down to two commandments (12:28-31), which sound easy at first, but are much more difficult to practice than the old system of "burnt offerings and sacrifices," a system which requires Jews to show unswerving loyalty. (Loyalty, not private emotion, is the meaning of the verb aheb, "love," as it applies to the Shema, according to the Jewish Study Bible (380) and Sakenfeld (376)). A big part of Jesus’ version of faith, according to Mark, is the requirement that disciples use their minds. Fideism is not acceptable. God’s faithful must question the specific ways in which religious teachings are being misused (e.g. 2:23-28; 3:1-6; 7:1-23; 12:38-40; 12:41-44), just as in the past Jews once questioned harmful religious and societal conventions (e.g. Exod. 20:2-6; 21:1 - 22:16; 22:20-12). (Mark thus shows Jesus to be following the "wilderness spirit" of the Sinai Covenant in the Torah (cf. Mark 1:3,4,12), as opposed to the Temple and hierarchy-based Zion Covenant presented in the Psalms and the Deuteronomistic History.[1]) God’s faithful must be willing to not only open their hearts and souls to God’s kingdom, but also their minds (διάνοια) – their innate capacity to think and understand in moral ways (Harder 125). Moral thinking and moral decision-making is a higher form of loving God than being obedient and loyal to the laws of the Zion Covenant.

This kind of "thinking faith," directed towards loving God (e.g. 1:35-39; 15:25-32), loving others (e.g. 9:33-37; 10:41-45), and loving themselves (e.g. 12:31)[2], will put them in opposition to others – family (e.g. 3:21; 3:31-35; 10:28-31), friends (e.g. 6:1-3; 14:66-72), Pharisees (e.g. 3:6, 12:13-17), scribes and chief priests (e.g. 2:6-9, 3:16-17; 11:18), and Gentiles (e.g. 5:14-17; 15:16-20) – who choose to follow honour-oriented traditions. Understanding is not an instantaneous gift from God, however (clearly evidenced in 8:14-21)[3]. Nor is understanding a gift conferred only on the disciples closest to Jesus (e.g. 5:33-34; 9:33-37; 10:17-22; 12:34; 14:6-9). Understanding is a long, difficult process which disciples must willingly participate in (e.g. 4:13; 4:33-34; 10:23-27; 13:9-13). It requires strength, a theme which Mark repeatedly intertwines with the requirement for understanding, as shall be shown. God’s faithful must commit their strength (iσχύς) to a process spread out over time and geography (hence Jesus’ travels back and forth across Galilee and adjacent territories) and also over boundaries of class and honour (hence Jesus’ willingness to heal and teach people from disadvantaged groups). It is a process open to all people, regardless of race, religion, gender, state of mental and/or physical health, wealth, or status. But it is a difficult process.

Mark – for all that he is trying to describe a "thinking faith" – seems very wary of directly invoking Hellenistic or Judeo-Hellenistic notions of philosophy, rational thought, or "wisdom" (σοφία). Σοφία is used 51 times in the New Testament, but only once in Mark (on the lips of the surprised synagogue attendees in 6:2). The adjective σοφός appears 22 times in the New Testament, but not once in Mark. Whatever claim Mark is making, it is not a claim for σοφία (wisdom, insight, intelligence, knowledge, divine knowledge). He prefers the cognates of the more "practical" verbs συνίημι (understand, comprehend, perceive, have insight into) and διαλογίζομαι (discuss, argue, consider, reason, wonder about, question). It is notable that, although he uses the adverb νουνεχwς once, and the verb νοέω a few times, he does not use the Greek word νοuς, a noun meaning perception, understanding, thoughts, or reason. Νοuς is attested since Linear B; it was used by Plato to mean "the highest of the three parts of the soul" (Harder 122), and still later used in the post-canonical, apocryphal era of Jewish literature in a sense associated with the will or deliberation (Harder 125). It is difficult to tell whether Mark avoids using νοuς because in Hebrew there is no direct equivalent for it, and the Septuagint rarely uses it (Harder 124) (compare to Paul, who uses it in Romans and 1 Corinthians); or whether Mark avoids using it because he has a general tendency to not include abstract "wisdom words" such as "peace," "hope," and "righteousness" words in his writing[4].

It is interesting to ponder Mark’s non-use of the "wisdom words" frequently attested in books of the Old Testament, as well as in the other Gospels, Acts, and the accepted letters of Paul. Certainly it can be argued that these words are malleable enough to serve any purpose ("Peace in our time!"). Perhaps, by not making abundant use of "wisdom words," Mark hopes to make his readers think, to apply their minds in new ways to the difficult question of what it means to be close to the kingdom of God. (Mark himself lends this impression in 13:14, where he suddenly interjects with "let the reader understand (νοείτω).") "Out with the poetry, in with the praxis," seems to be his approach. He therefore intentionally avoids "telling us" at length what Jesus said, and insists on "showing us" what Jesus did – what Jesus’ actions and choices were, where he went, who he talked to, who he aided, and what he did despite his friends’ lack of courage, faith, and love. Mark’s Radical Messiah is a man of relatively few words who teaches by example, and is not interested in raising his own status. (Even the scribe in 12:28-34 is accorded great dignity by Jesus – and also by Mark.) Therefore, for Mark, the examples are what matter most. (By contrast, Matthew’s Jesus seems very fond of the sound of his own voice, and John’s Jesus has a case of the "I ams.")

It is clear from a review of word usage articles that, by the first century CE, there was a blurring between Jewish and Hellenistic concepts of heart, mind, and soul, and this may explain why Mark felt he needed to add to the traditional phrasing of the Shema. In the Septuagint translation of the Shema, for instance, leb is rendered as καρδία; yet Holloday’s Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon shows 11 different meanings for leb: the physical heart organ; the seat of vitality; the seat of one’s feelings and impulses; mind, character, disposition, inclination, loyalty, concern; determination, courage, high morale; intention, purpose; mind, attention, consideration, understanding; the self; conscience; metaphorically the "interior" or "middle"; and finally the organizing power of living beings (nefesh – the word which is translated as ψυχή in the Septuagint’s version of the Shema ) (171-172). Harder points out that Septuagint translators rendered the Hebrew leb or lebab as νοuς only six times, as διάνοια 38 times, and as καρδία in most other instances (124). Sorg reports that the Septuagint occasionally translates leb as ψυχή (181). Meanwhile, ψυχή itself (used 101 times in the New Testament) encompasses a broad range of meanings: the whole person or creature; a person’s actual, physical life; the seat of the emotions; the inner life or personality of a person; the part of the person that lives on after death (Harder 682-686; Carrigan). Καρδία can be used literally to mean the physical heart, or it can be used metaphorically. In the New Testament, it is used in 148 passages with a variety of meanings: the seat of intellectual and spiritual life; the inner person or personality/ego; the seat of doubt and hardness; the mind or reason; will, desire, intention (Sorg 182-183). To state, as Cameron does, that "since Hebrew psychology lacked precise terminology, there is some overlapping in the use of nepesh, leb/lebab, and ruah" is something of an understatement. Perhaps Mark, aware of the confusion amongst Jews and Jewish Christians about the meanings of leb and καρδία, nefesh and ψυχή, decides to make certain that no one can dispute the necessity of "mind" and "understanding" (as distinct from Hellenistic wisdom!) by his explicitly including both διανοίας and συνέσεως in the crucial teaching chreia of 12:28-34.

Mark wants to talk about the Radical Messiah’s "thinking faith," but at the same time he demonstrates a prudent fear of both Jewish and Roman authorities. He does not wish to be arrested for apostasy or political treason (he is writing during a time of heightened political-religious conflict, both within Judaism itself, and between Judaism and the Roman Empire). Therefore, while he shies away from "wisdom words," he makes ample use of allegory. It is difficult, for instance, to see Mark’s repeated use of boat crossings on the "Sea" of Galilee as anything but a metaphor. It is a lake, after all, and not a very big one, at that – a fact that early Jewish Christian readers in the region would have known. Pheme Perkins points out that the Q Source has no sayings about fishing or grapes, and no stories about storms on the Sea of Galilee (94-95). Mark, however, introduces the Sea of Galilee, fishermen, and boats in his first chapter (1:16, 1:16-20, and 1:19-20 respectively). He is hinting at something. What does a boat do? we then must ask. A boat helps us cross the waters. What have bodies of water traditionally represented in Jewish thought? The forces of chaos that are overcome by the sovereign powers of God (Gen. 1:2 - 2:3). And how does one overcome the forces of chaos? In part, by using one’s strength – at which point it is very hard to overlook the similarity in sound between the word for "fish" (iχθύς) and the word for "strength" (iσχύς). (We know that Paul uses plays on words, so it is not unreasonable to conclude that Mark does the same.) Once this is observed, the two miraculous feedings of the crowd with bread and fish (6:34-44 and 8:1-9) become emblematic of the "strength" with which Jesus feeds the people [5,6] – the same strength that is spoken of in a positive light twice in 12:28-34, in a negative light in 14:37, in a perplexing light in 3:27 and 5:4, and in a contextual way in 15:46, where Joseph of Arimathea has the strength to roll a "very large rock" across the tomb by himself.

In the important verses of 8:14-21, Mark draws an overt link between the allegorical feedings – with their relationship to the theme of strength – and the issue of understanding. Here, while Jesus and the disciples are sitting yet again in their boat (8:14 – the final reference to boats in the Gospel of Mark), Jesus castigates the disciples harshly, in several different ways, because they do not yet understand (νοεiτε) or realize (συνίετε). This pericope is filled with Greek verbs related to the thinking faculties of people (thinking faculties which include input from the senses): the disciples "forgot" the bread (8:14); Jesus cautions them to "see" the yeast of the Pharisees and of Herod (8:15); the disciples "reasoned" among themselves (8:16); Jesus "knows" their attempt at reasoning and asks them why they are still "reasoning" that way instead of "understanding" and "realizing" (8:17); have their "hearts" been hardened? Jesus asks (8:17); do they have "eyes" that don’t see, and "ears" that don’t hear? (8:18); do they not "remember"? (8:18); do they not yet understand? (8:21). Verses 14-21 of Chapter 8 can be seen to conclude and epitomize the first half of Mark’s Gospel, as some scholars have suggested (Perkins 131); however, reading the Gospel in this way does, as Perkins points out, present "as much of a challenge to the audience as the ending of the Gospel does" (131) because of its critical depiction of the disciples. The disciples, both male and female, lack understanding and strength. They have not applied "all their mind" and "all their strength" to loving God or their teacher, Jesus, and therefore – unlike the scribe of 12:28-34 and perhaps unlike Joseph of Arimathea – they have not been able to draw near to the kingdom of God. It is not enough to be loyal, according to Mark. It is not enough to be close to the Rabbi. The disciples will not be able to understand what the kingdom of God is like until they give themselves heart, soul, mind, and strength to the praxis of loving God and loving other people, the sort of praxis which Jesus models on every page of this complex gospel.

ENDNOTES

1. The two covenant thesis in the Jewish Bible is convincingly argued by W.M.

2. Not all scholars agree that 12:29 commands people to love themselves (Klassen 389).

3. Mark does not tell us how Jesus acquired his understanding. We know only that God has adopted Jesus as his son (1:11 and 9:7), and is well pleased with him.

4. In marked contrast to other New Testament authors such as Matthew, Luke in Luke/Acts, and Paul, Mark uses the words "peace" (only 3 times), "hope" (zero times), "love" (X 4), "joy" (X 1), "freedom" (X 0), "glory" (X 3), "just/righteous" (X 3) or "holy" (X 7). (Nelson's Concordance)

5. I have not yet figured out how "artos" is being used in these passages.

6. In this context, the numerological references in the two miraculous feedings (e.g. 5,000 people, 12 baskets of leftovers, 7 loaves) can be read as being indicators to treat these passages allegorically (unlike the healing miracles, which Mark treats in a factual way).


WORKS CONSULTED

Berlin, Adele and Marc Zvi Brettler, Eds. The Jewish Study Bible: Jewish Publication Society TANAKH Translation. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004.

Cameron, W.J. "Soul." New Bible Dictionary. 2nd Ed. Ed. J.D. Douglas. Leicester and Wheaton IL: Inter-varsity and Tyndale House, 1982. 1135.

Carrigan, Henry L. "Soul." Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible. Ed. David Noel Freedman. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2000. 1245.

Coogan. Michael D., Ed. The New Oxford Annotated Bible: New Revised Standard Version with the Apocrypha, College Edition. 3rd Ed. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2001.

Ellison, John W., Ed. Nelson’s Complete Concordance of the Revised Standard Version Bible. New York: Nelson & Sons, 1957.

Harder, Georg. "νοuς." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 122-130.

Harder, Georg. "ψυχή." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 676-689.

Goetzmann, Jurgen. "σύνεσις." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 130-134.

Holloday, William L., Ed. A Concise Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1988.

Klassen, William. "Love in the New Testament and Early Jewish Literature." The Anchor Bible Dictionary. Vol. 4. Ed. David Noel Freedman. New York: Doubleday, 1992. 381-396.

Morrison, Clinton. An Analytical Concordance to the Revised Standard Version of the New Testament. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1979.

Perkins, Pheme. Introduction to the Synoptic Gospels. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007.

Sakenfeld, Katharine Door Sakenfeld. "Love in the Old Testament." The Anchor Bible Dictionary. Vol. 4. Ed. David Noel Freedman. New York: Doubleday, 1992. 375-381.

Schattenmann, Hans-Georg. "Iσχύς." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 3. Rev. Ed. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 712-716.

Sorg, Theo. "καρδία." The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology. Vol. 2. Ed. Colin Brown. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986. 180-184.

Stanton, Graham N. The Gospels and Jesus. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1989.

JR 43: The Case for "Mark Versus Paul"

A: Today, I'm shifting back into academic mode on the question of what Jesus actually taught 2,000 years ago -- as opposed to what the Church says he taught. 

I've had an inquiry about my academic arguments on the "Mark versus Paul" question -- that is, on my thesis that Mark wrote his gospel as a direct rebuttal of Paul's First Corinthians. To present this argument in its entirety would fill at least one big fat Zondervan text (as if Zondervan's editors would publish such a thesis!) so all I can do at this stage is present a brief list of comparisons between the two texts. I'm aware that in order to build a case for each "talking point" in a complete academic format -- a format that would be acceptable to a peer-reviewed journal -- would require many months of research for each point and a long research paper for each. The work would go faster, however, if others were willing to help. If you're interested in helping with this project, please contact me. 

I'm going to present some of the major contrasts I see between First Corinthians and the Gospel of Mark. I'll assume for this purpose that the extant copies of these two books represent with a fair degree of accuracy the original texts as they were written by Paul and Mark respectively, with the exception of Mark 16:9-20 (the very ending of Mark), which is generally believed to be a later addition.  

If you want to see which researchers I rely on, please refer to the post called "The Author's Research Bibliography" (http://jesusredux.blogspot.com/2011/03/authors-bibliography.html).  

Study of the Gospel of Thomas, which has strong links to the Q Source and the Synoptic Gospels, makes it easier to see what Jesus was actually saying and how Jesus’ teachings differed radically from Paul’s teachings. Ceiling mosaic in the original Queen’s Park entrance of the Royal Ontario Museum, Toronto. Photo credit JAT 2017.

I use more than one form of biblical criticism -- more than one analytical tool -- in this comparison. I tend to start with traditional methods -- socio-historical criticism, source criticism, form criticism, and redaction criticism -- and then I cross-reference these arguments with recent scientific insights from quantum theory, neurophysiology, psychotherapy, archaeology, and recent historical findings. I also use my own personal mystical faculties, but I won't apologize for this, since insights derived from mystical conversations are only a starting point, not an ending point. Other researchers get "aha" moments and call them intuition, or divine revelation, or just plain ol' personal brilliance. Me, I'm being honest about where I get my starting point for this discussion. After that, it's up to me to use logical human tools to make my case. 

Fortunately for me, what Jesus and my angels pointed out to me leads to an extremely strong case. To the best of my knowledge, there are no biblical scholars currently publishing on this topic. So this is original research you're reading. You'll probably wonder straight away how I -- an obscure blogger from Canada who has no PhD and no publishing record of note -- could see evidence of a book-to-book biblical feud that nobody else has seen. To this I must reply that the feud has been obvious "to those who have eyes and those who have ears" (Mark 8:18) since these two texts began to circulate simultaneously in the latter part of the 1st century CE. Christians have always been called to decide whether they choose Paul's teachings or Jesus' teachings (even if they haven't been able to articulate the choice in scholarly terms). However, it's only now that Christians are getting round to being honest about this fact. 

If Mark had simply written about entirely different themes than Paul did, there would be no point in trying to show that Mark wrote his gospel as a rebuttal of Paul's First Corinthians. But Mark didn't write about different themes than Paul did. He wrote about exactly the same topics and inverted them. He also chose his words as carefully as Paul did. He never uses Paul's favourite word: nomos (Greek for law, authority, unbreakable tradition). Nor does Mark use the words charis (grace) or elpis (hope). The words nomos, charis, and elpis are part of the vocabulary of apocalyptic thought. And Mark is trying to show, contrary to Paul's claims about Jesus, that Jesus himself rejected apocalyptic thought.  

Mark never uses the words nomos, charis, and elpis. But for a man who never uses these words, he talks about them a lot in his book. He talks about what it means for a person of faith to be in full relationship with God the Mother and God the Father.  

Here is a point form list of some of the direct comparisons. I reserve the right to edit, modify, add to, and clarify this list whenever additional information comes to light in future. If information is suggested to me by other writers, I will so note the contribution(s).  

Concerns of Form:  

1. Viewpoint Character In Paul: The viewpoint character is Paul himself. In Mark: The viewpoint character is Jesus; the author (Mark) is not present; reference to "a certain young man" in Mark 14:51 may indicate an eyewitness to whom Mark later spoke about events surrounding Jesus' arrest.  

2. Narrator's Voice In Paul: The narrator speaks in first person (Paul himself). In Mark: Third person narration. 

3. Literary Genre In Paul: Written as a letter; uses rhetoric, exhortation. In Mark: Written as a biographical narrative interspersed with parables, sayings, and teaching actions (i.e. teaching chreia).  

4: The Narrative Hook: "The Hero's Journey" In Paul: The hero Paul recounts highlights of his long and arduous journey to save the Gentiles; the focus is on important urban centres; the hero's personal journey is a metaphor for the path of spiritual ascent (i.e. the vertical path that leads to salvation and eventual bodily resurrection). In Mark: The hero Jesus takes many small trips around a small freshwater lake; the focus is on unimportant outlying communities; the hero's journey is horizontal, not vertical; the path is not straight; bad things happen on high hills; good things happen near boats and water.  

Theological and Social Concerns:  

5. Relationship to the Jerusalem Temple: In Paul: The physical Temple has been replaced by Jesus and "believers" (1 Cor 3:9-17; 6:19-20); the Temple is now purely mystical; it is more important than ever. (Note: the actual physical Herodian Temple was still standing in Jerusalem at the time Paul wrote his letter and Mark wrote his rebuttal). In Mark: The physical Temple exists and is the centre of corruption in Palestine (Mark 11:12-24;12:35-44; 15:38). 

6. Relationship to the city of Jerusalem: In Paul: Jerusalem is still favoured as shown by the collection for the Jerusalem church (1 Cor 16:1-4). In Mark: Jesus spends little time in Jerusalem; healing miracles all take place outside the city; Jesus' friends live outside the city; Jerusalem is the place where genuine faith withers away (Mark 11).  

7. Healing Miracles: In Paul: No mention of healing miracles. In Mark: Several healing miracles take place; the theme of healing is introduced early on and repeated until Jesus reaches Jerusalem.  

8. People With Disabilities: In Paul: No special mention of individuals with physical or mental illnesses or disabilities or special needs. In Mark: Those deemed "impure" according to Jewish custom and law are healed, touched, spoken to in violation of purity laws.  

9. The Kingdom of God: In Paul: The Kingdom is a reality outside the self; it depends on power (1 Cor 4:20; 15:24-28; 15:50). In Mark: There is no simple explanation of the Kingdom, but empathy is central to it (Mark 10:13-31; 12:28-34).  

10. Relationship of Body to Soul: In Paul: Influenced by Platonic dualism.; the flesh is corrupt (1 Cor 3:1-4; 7:8-9; 9:24-27; 15:42-49). Souls are in peril without belief in Christ. In Mark: Holistic attitude toward the body; non-Platonic and non-Covenantal; flesh is not impure or corrupt; right relationship with God involves caring for the body. Souls live as angels in the afterlife (Mark 12:24-27)  

11: Forgiveness: In Paul: No mention of forgiveness. In Mark: The theme of forgiveness is introduced early on (Mark 2:1-12); both God and humans can forgive (Mark 11:25).  

12: The Definition of Human Virtue: In Paul: "Foolishness" (morias) and unquestioning faith are the highest expressions of right belief (1 Cor 1:10 - 2:5); obedience, fellowship, holiness, "strong consciousness," and the proper exercise of freedom are emphasized. In Mark: Courage (ischys) and a questioning faith are the highest expressions of right belief (Mark 8:11-21); egalitarianism, service, forgiveness, and insight (suneseos) are emphasized.

JR26: Materialism, Pauline Thought, and the Kingdom

A: For the last couple of days, ever since you introduced the idea that Pauline Christianity has always been in some ways a Materialist religion, my head has been spinning, and I've been trying to figure out exactly what you mean. I can feel that it's right in the part of my self that's intuitive, but the rest of my head hasn't caught up to my intuition yet. So can we take it from the top?

"They asked him: When is the Kingdom coming?He replied: It is not coming in an easily observable manner. People will not be saying,’Look, it’s over here’ or ‘Look, it’s over there.’ Rather, the Kingdom of the Father is already spread out on the earth, and people aren’t aware of it” (Gospel of Thomas 113). Each autumn, this walnut tree yields its harvest to those among God’s creatures who need it most. They receive these gifts without any reliance on human prayers or covenants. There’s wonderful freedom in trusting God to do what God does best when you don’t take on the burden of believing you’re somehow responsible for maintaining the laws of Creation. Photo credit JAT 2014.

J: No problem.

A: How 'bout we start with some definitions? And by the way, I'd just like to comment once again on the fact that you're a true philosophy geek, you know that? Your face lights up like a Christmas tree every time you get to talk about a juicy philosophical dilemma. I can sure see how you ended up being a radical theologian in your time.

J: I was a much more successful philosopher than I was a carpenter. Honest to God, although I had to work as a tradesman to pay for my room and board, I'm pretty sure some of my handiwork could have ended up on "Galilean DIY Disaster."

A: Measure once, cut twice?

J: I'm not a natural when it comes to tools. I think like a designer, not like an engineer. I would flunk out of civil engineering, I'm sure of it. But redesigning the layout of a home so it supports a person's soul needs -- that I can do.

A: My father, the retired engineer and all-round handyman, would think you're a wuss. But you're so much like most of the other male physicians I know -- great with healing, great with academic study, not so good with the toolkit. (For the record, my ex is a physician, and we socialized with other people who were in medicine. So I know -- or rather, knew -- a lot of the male physicians around here.) Anyway, back to the philosophizing.

J: Okay. Well, the philosophy of Materialism is based on the theory that matter -- by that I mean baryonic matter -- is the only thing that exists. It's a WYSIWYG understanding of reality -- what you see is what you get. What you see is atoms and molecules and measurable substances and Newtonian laws. Therefore, according to this theory, all things in Nature -- including mind, thought, consciousness, even love -- can be explained solely by looking at the small little parts that make up the whole. It's the idea that macroscopic reality -- the daily reality that human beings live and work and breathe in -- is just a bigger version of the microscopic reality of atoms and molecules and gravitational forces, etc. Of course, as researchers in various scientific disciplines now know, there are huge gaps between the "macro" theories and the "micro" theories. At the subatomic or quantum level, the universe is a weird, weird place. At the other end of the scale -- the cosmological or grand universal scale -- the universe is also a weird, weird place. Only at the immediate level of reality, if I can call it that -- the level where human beings happen to live a fairly safe and predictable Newtonian kind of life -- only here is a Materialist philosophy even remotely justified.

A: How does Materialism understand God?

J: A person who embraces Materialist belief in the natural laws of "cause and effect" may or may not believe in the existence of God. Many, if not most, Materialists are atheists. Atheists, of course, believe that existence can be explained entirely on the basis of scientific research. No God is required. However, it's entirely possible to be a religious Materialist, a Materialist who believes in God. Deism is a good example of this.

A: Deism is a belief system that says there's a God, one God who created the universe, but that this God later stepped away from his Creation and doesn't participate in an active way in our lives or our suffering. God is the Great Clockmaker who made a perfect timepiece and now lets it run without interference. However, there's still an acceptance of the idea that God will reward virtue and punish vice in the afterlife. George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, and Thomas Jefferson were all Deists . . . Tell me again why Deism isn't the same as Pauline Christianity and Platonism?

J: It is Pauline/Platonic Christianity. Deism is what you get when you strip away later church doctrines about ritual and sacraments and prayer to saints (intercession) and belief in Marianism and belief in holy relics and belief in holy Crusade and belief in papal infallibility. Deism is Pauline thought in its purest form -- a belief in the inviolability and perfection of Divine Law. Divine Law that governs "cause and effect" in the material world.

A: But Paul goes on and on in Romans about the inherent peril of "the law," how knowledge of the law led him into sin.

J: Paul isn't attacking all Law. He's attacking the laws he no longer agrees with. Paul spends all his time in his letters talking about the "new and improved" Law -- the Law that he himself is teaching. The New Covenant. It's easy to forget that Covenant is Law -- nomos in the Greek. Nomos was a complex idea that included both human authority and divine authority. When Paul talks about the "new covenant," he's talking about a new version of Divine Law. A new version of the Law of Cause and Effect. "If you do this (believe in Christ), then according to the inviolable Law of Creation, you must receive this (salvation plus a reserved parking spot in Heaven)." It's a reductionist philosophy. Just as Materialism is a reductionist philosophy. Everything is reduced to a simple "cause and effect" formula.

A: Just as Wisdom teachings in the Ancient Near East were a "cause and effect" formula: if you obey the instructions on the "virtue lists" and disavow the behaviours on the "vice lists," God is required to reward you because the Law says so.

J: Paul, clever manipulator that he was, observed that there was a "niche market" of people who'd become disillusioned with the certainty of Wisdom teachings. Obviously there was something missing from the formula if slaves were still slaves and women were still being punished for being women. The Hellenistic cities of the Roman Empire were filled to bursting with resentful slaves and restless, intelligent women. Who better to target if you're planning to launch a new religious movement? Slaves with money and women with money. You don't need to slog through the trenches and carry out years and years of missionary work -- you just need to get yourself some patrons with deep pockets. Paul doesn't even deny his reliance on patrons.

A: One staggering fact that jumps out in the Gospel of Mark is the fact that you have no patron. Nor do you seem to want one. This would have shocked readers in 1st century CE Roman-held regions.

J: Part of my objective was to refuse to "play by the rules."

A: In the end, so many of these religious debates and religious conflicts boil down to "the rules" -- the law, the covenant, the nomos. But all these rules . . . they're external. They come from outside the inner self. They pretend to be objective. They pretend to be based on observable realities from nature. Yet enforcement of them relies on brute force, on rote memory, and on loyalty to patrons or other important religious/political leaders . . . at least I think that's right. Is that right?

J: Yes. The one thing Paul doesn't want is for people to know how to tap into their own inner wisdom, their own inner guidance. He doesn't want them to know how to hear God's quiet voice in the still, clear night. He doesn't want his "community of fellowship" to find actual freedom. He only wants them to believe they have freedom (exousia) through the proper use of conscience (suneidesis). He wants them to be willing slaves. Slaves who won't rock the boat of authority.

A: This is really sick, you know that?

J: Of course it is. There's a reason these teachings have spontaneously led to generation after generation of abuses -- abuses against the poor, the environment, against other Christians, not to mention countless non-Christians. Also abuses against God. These abuses are the "weeds" that have grown from the "seeds" that Paul intentionally planted.

A: Is this why Paul never mentions healing miracles in the letters he himself wrote?

J: Yes. Paul can't afford to have his community of hagiasmos and koinonia (holiness and fellowship) distracted by the idea that God is deeply committed to ongoing healing, communication, and relationship with all people through the Kingdom within. The Kingdom within, of course, is the core self -- the soul. The good soul. That's how God connects with all God's children -- through the good soul that everybody is. God can and does communicate by other means, too, but the one connection that can never be taken away is the soul connection. You can cut out somebody's eyes so they can't see any more signs (and, unfortunately, this has been done). You can cut out somebody's ears so they can't hear any more external messages. You can cut out somebody's tongue so they can no longer speak the prayers they long to sing aloud. All these abuses have been perpetrated "in the name of God" at one time or another. But nobody can cut out the connection to the soul. You'd have to carve out the entire brain and central nervous system of a person in order to fully quench the soul connection, the body-soul nexus. Obviously this would lead to death.

A: Hey! It's another thing to add to the Jesus' Seminar's pot for the question of "Why Jesus Pissed People Off So Much That He Got Himself Crucified."

J: Paul works very hard to ensure that his followers believe in a Kingdom that's on the outside -- "out there" in the Materialist world of cause and effect. "Out there" where they have no control over any of it themselves. Even more brilliant, Paul insists the Kingdom of God isn't here yet. It belongs to some maybe-not-so-distant Day of Judgment. So not only is the Kingdom a materialistic reality outside the self, but it hasn't even "arrived" yet [1 Corinthians 15]. This prompts regular people to be thinking about the future instead of the present. This encourages them to shift their focus, their attention, and even their relationships to the future. To the future "effects" of today's "causes." People are so busy worrying about the future that they can't hear God's voice today.

A: Therefore they can't hear the guidance they long for.

J: The guidance they want and need.

A: I like your version of the Kingdom teachings much better.

JR18: The "Trilemma"

A: This morning it seemed like a good idea for me to post part of the cognate paper I wrote for my Master's degree. I've included the abstract, the information from the Schematic Model that underlies my argument, and an introduction to the argument itself. This paper has not been published, but, like all original writing, is covered by copyright laws.

This research paper was the product of years of combined academic and mystical research. I got a lot of help from Jesus (though I couldn't put that in the bibliography!), and I got little help from my supervising professor, who was somewhat bewildered by the paper. The paper was read and marked by a second professor -- P.H., a theologian of Pentecostal stripe -- who hated the paper and who, strangely enough, accused me of wasting 20 pages in the middle on "nothing" and then in the next breath accused me of not backing up my stated theory about Jesus' teachings. She literally could not see, with her fundamentalist background, that the "wasted pages" constituted an analysis of radical claims about Jesus made by the author of the Gospel of Mark. People see what they want to see, even in academia.

If you're interested in reading the paper in its entirety, it's posted on my website on the Doctrines of the Soul page.


ABSTRACT:
This paper compares different theological claims that were made about the soul in Hellenistic philosophy, Second Temple Judaism, and early Christianity, and shows through the use of a new theoretical model that these claims cannot be grouped by religion. Doctrinal claims about the soul can instead be grouped into one of three main fields of theological inquiry: the physis versus nomos debate; the nomos versus the Divine debate; or the physis versus the Divine debate. These three debates have operated in parallel within Christianity since its inception. The Gospel of Mark provides evidence that Jesus’ own teachings on the soul may have been part of a novel solution to the physis-Divine debate. By contrast, Tertullian’s detailed doctrine of the soul, presented in The Soul’s Testimony and A Treatise on the Soul, draws on the traditions of the nomos-Divine debate, and yields very different claims than those presented in Mark. Tertullian’s doctrine of the soul, and his related doctrine of original sin, have exerted great influence on the orthodox Christian understanding of the soul. The church today has the option of reexamining the history of early Christian soul doctrines and assessing the three parallel strands of thought to uncover a previously overlooked biblically-based understanding of the soul that can meet today’s pastoral needs.


Schematic Model for the Theological "Trilemma":

(c) Jennifer Thomas 2010

1. The Rift Between PHYSIS and NOMOS The Problem: How can we reconcile the necessities of nature with the themes of justice and judgment derived from human laws? The Solution: Elevation of human authority and human status (arete). IN TENSION WITH 2 AND 3.
2. The Rift Between NOMOS and the DIVINE The Problem: How can we reconcile the themes of justice and judgment derived from human laws with the puzzling long-term relationship we have with God. The Solution: Elevation of prophetic authority, and lack of accountability to the necessities of nature. IN TENSION WITH 1 AND 3.
3. The Rift Between PHYSIS and the DIVINE The Problem: How can we reconcile the necessities of nature with the puzzling long-term relationship we have with God? The Solution: Elevation of secret knowledge, mysticism, and cult rituals. IN TENSION WITH 1 AND 2.

The model I propose is shown in diagrammatic format in figure 1, Schematic Model for the Theological "Trilemma." This figure is elaborated on in tables 1, 2, and 3. Although a much longer paper would be needed to examine this model in detail, in the current paper I will use this model to examine three major streams of theological thought that have all, in their own way, used doctrines of the soul to resolve issues of religious and political authority. By placing the different doctrines of the soul mentioned above into this framework, it is easier to see in what way Tertullian’s theology differs markedly from that of Jesus in the Synoptics. The contrast between these two demonstrates clearly that doctrines of the soul do not line up neatly according to the respective religious tradition from which each emerged. In other words, there is not a soul doctrine that is unique to Judaism, a different soul doctrine that is unique to Hellenism, and a third one found only in Christianity. Instead, a distinctive three-fold pattern exists, a pattern that is shared among Judaism, Greek religion/ philosophy, and early Christianity, and this three-fold pattern is the basis of the model I am proposing. This three-fold pattern, or "trilemma" as I have chosen to call it, partly explains the "why" of fierce theological debate. It also helps explain why we are so confused today about the nature of the soul.

The pattern I am proposing as a theological framework to help us analyse our current confusion arose in response to observations made by Walter Burkert in his book Greek Religion. Towards the end of this important book, Burkert discusses the religious and philosophical crisis that erupted in the fifth century BCE when sophists and atheists undermined Greek religious certainty with their observations about nomos and physis:

Nomos, meaning both custom and law, becomes a central concept of sophistic thought. Laws are made by men and can be altered arbitrarily. And what is tradition if not the sum of such ordinances? Horizons are extended through travel and the reports of travel: with growing interest men became aware of foreign peoples among whom everything is different, witness the ethnographic digressions of Herodotus. In this way the unquestioned assumptions of custom can easily be shaken. The discovery of the changeability of custom becomes particularly dangerous when nomos is set in opposition to physis, a concept provided by the philosophy of nature where it is used to denote the growing of the cosmos and of all things contained in it from their own laws. Archelaos, a pupil of Anaxagoras, is supposed to have been the first to formulate this antithesis about 440 BC: the just and the unjust, the ugly and the beautiful are not defined by physis but by nomos, by arbitrarily changing human convention.

But it was on tradition, nomos, that religion primarily rested, as the Greeks knew well. Its foundations were seen to be threatened, at least in theory, as a result of the questioning of nomos.[1]

Burkert then goes on to outline how pre-Socratic thinkers such as Heraclitus, Empedocles, Sophocles, and Diogenes of Apollonia "delivered" the pious from this crisis of uncertainty by asserting that "[t]here are laws of eusebeia which are rooted in heaven, removed from human caprice, and eternal like the cosmos itself."[2] Thus, concludes Burkert, "nature speculation provides a starting-point from which to close the rift between physis and nomos, and so to give a new, unshakeable foundation for piety."[3]

"The rift between physis and nomos" is a phrase so powerful, so meaningful, that it seems almost paradigmatic, and Burkert’s recognition of the pattern opened the door to a pursuit by this author of other such paradigmatic rifts. This line of enquiry led to the observation that there seem to be two other major rifts: the rift between nomos and the Divine, and the rift between physis and the Divine. Each of these rifts is not a simple duality but rather a complex philosophical/theological tension that encompasses perennial questions about what it means to be human, and what it means to be a human in relationship with God.

The three-fold pattern I suggest here can be represented by the triangle shown in figure 1. Each point of the triangle represents one of the three rifts. Although other writers have proposed three-point triangles to highlight both doctrinal and scholarly incongruities[4], what distinguishes the "trilemma" from other three-point models is the fact that each point in the proposed triangular scheme represents not a single concept but a complex tension between two difficult-to-reconcile concepts that seem to be separated by a rift. Each of these rifts, on its own, represents a valid question. For instance, it is perfectly valid for religious seekers to ask in what way human laws and traditions should (or could) align with the laws of nature (nomos in tension with physis; table 1); or in what way religious laws are (or could be) made in the image of our relationship with God (nomos in tension with the Divine; table 2)[5]; or in what way the actual laws of nature reflect our relationship with a God who allows death and suffering (physis in tension with the Divine; table 3). These are all straightforward and important themes of theology. What is not straightforward is the way in which the answers to these questions gradually resulted in three divergent theological solutions, as shown on tables 1, 2, and 3. Each of these three theological solutions presents a different view of who God is, and how we can be in relationship with God. These solutions are mutually incompatible. For instance, if you "cut and paste" the three different versions of how God is perceived in these three different solutions (that is, if you try to put them all together on one point in the centre of the triangle), you arrive at a God who is simultaneously distant and transcendent, fully immanent, unchanging, emotionally detached, interventionist, emotionally involved, in conditional relationship with us, in unconditional relationship with us, and proleptically in relationship with us. This simply cannot be, unless one resorts to the time-honoured tradition of explaining away overt contradictions as mysterion.[6]

What emerges upon examination of the "trilemma" is the extent to which these three theological solutions are mutually incompatible. The questions that underlie the three points are not incompatible; but the solutions that have arisen and been accepted as dogma over many centuries are very much incompatible. A person who attempts to hold all three solutions together as a unified whole is likely to end up confused at the very least. Yet for centuries Christians have been trying to do this very thing. Before that, the people of Judah/Israel and the people of classical Greece wrestled with the same confusion. This is not a new problem. But until we recognize it as a reality that is causing us problems, and until we look for new ways to de-complicate our Protestant theology, we will continue to be confused about our relationship with God.

This same confusion manifests in our current understanding of the soul, which, as I will show in the next two chapters, presents a theological solution based on only one point of the trilemma – the nomos-Divine rift – while using a confusing blend of vocabulary that seems to point to the other two points as well. Thus we will see the emergence of a soul doctrine that means one thing while ostensibly saying another. The intent of this soul doctrine is to entrench the inviolability of divine contract laws (the nomos-Divine rift), but it refers often to the language of free will (physis-nomos rift) and of mystery (physis-Divine rift). In this context, it is little wonder that today’s church is so reticent about the soul – at present, the orthodox understanding of the soul makes no sense!

[1] Walter Burkert, Greek Religion, trans. John Raffan (1977; Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1985), 312-313.
[2] Ibid., 318.
[3] Ibid.
[4]Dr. W. M. pointed out to his Winter 2009 class the triangular models of Mattitiahu Tsevat and James Barr respectively. Tsevat’s model shows the doctrinal dilemma of the Book of Job, which can be summarized as "just Creator, just persons, just rewards: pick two." Mattitiahu Tsevat, "The Meaning of the Book of Job," Hebrew Union College Annual 37 (1966), 73-106. James Barr presents a threefold process for studying the Bible – referential, intentional, and poetic – in The Bible in the Modern World (London: S.C.M. Press, 1973), 61. James Rives, however, comes closest to the model I’m suggesting when he describes the three kinds of advantage offered by religion in the Greco-Roman period: (1) traditional benefits, (2) intensification, and (3) salvation. James. B. Rives, Religion in the Roman Empire (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007), 168-179.
[5]As the entry on nomos in the New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology points out, "[t]he legal, ethical and religious meanings of nomos are inseparable in antiquity, for all goods were believed to come from the gods, who upheld order in the universe and in relations between men . . . . Philosophy (even that of the Sophists), kept alive the awareness that, since human laws are so fallible, man cannot exist unless he conforms to cosmic, universal law . . . . Whereas the Sophists criticized the idea of absolute validity attaching to nomos, Plato and Aristotle each in his own way connected it with the nous, the human spirit, and thereby once again with the divine." Hans-Helmut Esser, "Law, Custom, Elements," in The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, vol. 2, rev. ed., ed. Colin Brown (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1986),439.
[6]Although I am a practising mystic, I would not want to fall back on the excuse of mysterion to try to force these different images onto a single page. Mystery as a concept can be dangerous when used as a catchall to smooth over doctrinal inconveniences or to uphold church authority at the expense of the oppressed. The church needs mystery – but it does not need the kind that has been used to justify longstanding abuses in the church towards women and the disadvantaged.

JR10: Son of David or House of David?

A: You've said more than once that you were the son of a wealthy, aristocratic family, a descendant of priests. Were you a descendant of King David? Was your father "of the house of David," as Luke says in Luke 1:27?  

J: This is the great thing about modern socio-historical criticism of ancient religious texts. Today's research gives so many terrific, irrefutable facts that contradict the Church's teachings. It's like a game of Battleship, blowing up beloved traditions and sacred doctrines one piece at a time. 

A: So I'm thinking the answer to my question is "No"?  

J: With a capital "N." There is no way -- no possible way -- that the Jewish hierarchy or the Roman hierarchy would have allowed a male with a proveable link to the lineage of David to survive, let alone go around preaching a radical doctrine about God. That lineage was dead. Long gone. Jesus scholars trace the last reference to a verifiable descendant of David in Hebrew scripture to the 5th century BCE Book of Ezra-Nehemiah. After that, the Jewish texts are silent on David's genealogy. 

A: This appeared to be no obstacle to the writers of the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke. Matthew and Luke both insist you're an actual descendant of David, and give you a genealogy to prove it. 

J: Yes, but they don't give the same genealogy, which has to make you wonder . . . could it be possible these men made it up? [Voice dripping with facetious humour.] 

A: You mean, invented the genealogy. Lied about it.  

J: Well, there's certainly no truth to either of their genealogies.  

A: If a written record of David's line of descent had actually existed in the first century, where would it have been kept? 

J: In Jerusalem. In the Temple. The records of bloodlines for the high priests and the other priests were highly valuable documents. They were carefully preserved. Any record of Judah's or Israel's ancient kings would also have been preserved. During the Second Temple period, the safest storehouse for valuables was the Temple and its precincts. The originals were kept there.

“His disciples said to him, ‘Who are you to say these things to us?’ [Jesus replied]: ‘You do not know who I am from what I say to you. Rather, you have become like the Jewish people who love the tree but hate its fruit, or they love the fruit but hate the tree'” (Gospel of Thomas 43). In this saying, Jesus is referring to the struggle within 1st century Judaism to reconcile opposing claims about authority. Some taught that bloodline was the key. Others taught that rigorous knowledge and obedience to the Law was the key. Jesus himself rejected both these arguments, even though he came from a priestly family and was highly educated. He taught a holistic approach wherein the ability to love God and to love other people took precedence over both bloodline and advanced study of scripture. Photo credit Hemera Technologies 2001-2003.

A: But in 70 CE, the Romans destroyed the Jerusalem Temple. Any scrolls that were saved were probably taken into hiding. Making them hard to check, hard to verify -- at least until the political situation had settled down. 

J: A fact that "Matthew" and "Luke" both took advantage of. Both of them wrote after the Temple was destroyed. "Mark" wrote just beforehand. Mark was very careful not to make any claims about my background that could easily be disproved. 

A: Yet in the Gospel of Mark, there's reference to you as "the son of David." How do you explain that? 

J: That's an easy one. Mark never says that I'm from the "House of David." Mark says that a blind beggar named Bartimaeus called out to me as the "son of David." The short and simple answer -- plain as can be -- is that "House of David" and "son of David" mean two completely different things.  

A: Explain.  

J: To claim to be of the "House of David" is to make a genealogical claim -- a claim to be a direct blood descendant of a former king. It's like saying, "I'm descended from King Henry VIII" or "I'm descended from Queen Elizabeth I."  

A: Except that everybody knows Queen Elizabeth I died without children, without direct heirs. So anybody making that claim would have a hell of a time proving it to historians and archivists.  

J: Same thing with King David. If descendants of King David were still known, still living, where were they when the Hasmoneans -- the so-called Maccabeans -- claimed both the High Priesthood and the de facto Kingship of Judea in the 2nd century BCE? Why didn't the Davidic family step forward then to reassert their "claim" to the throne? Or when Pompey invaded in 63 BCE and made Judea a Roman protectorate? Or when Augustine officially turned the Roman Republic into an Empire with the Emperor as divinely appointed ruler and keeper of the Pax Romana in Judea, (as well as everywhere else)? It's just not historically realistic to believe there really was a "House of David" by the first century of the common era.

A: So when "Matthew" and "Luke" made their claims about your ancestry, we should understand these as fictional claims -- about as meaningful and factual as it would seem to us today if Stephen Harper were to say he's a direct descendant of King Arthur of the Round Table. Pure hype.  

J: You bet. On the other hand, if Stephen Harper were to liken himself symbolically or metaphorically to King Arthur -- if he were to say he's following the inspiration of his hero King Arthur -- then people would respond differently.  

A: It never hurts for a politician to model himself after a popular hero.  

J: And in the 1st century CE, David was a popular folk hero. Not David the King, but David the humble shepherd lad who brought down the oppressor Goliath with one well-aimed blow of a stone.  

A: Plus a swift sword to the neck.  

J: People often forget that just as there are two different versions of the Creation story in Genesis, there are two different versions of the early David story in First Samuel, and there are two strikingly different "images" of David in the Bible -- one humble, one royal. Which version is going to appeal more to regular folk oppressed by their leaders, both domestic and foreign?  

A: The version where David is the little guy up against the big, mean, nasty Goliath. 

J: Or the big, mean, nasty Herodian Temple, in my case.  

A: It was a metaphor, then. A reference to the heroic folk tale of David. A reminder that God doesn't always choose "the big guy" or "the firstborn son."  

J: Regular people didn't love David because he was a king. Regular people loved David -- the young David, the innocent David -- because they could relate to him. David was a popular symbol amongst the slaves and the hard-working lower classes who longed to be freed from the cruelty of unjust leaders.  

A: Huh. Well, as the Staples commercial says, "That was easy."

JR6: John and the Gospel of Thomas

A: I had a letter from a reader in the U.S. who's curious about the Gospel of Thomas, so I thought we could switch gears a bit and talk about the manuscript known as the Gospel of Thomas.

Papyrus fragment: Gospel of Jesus' Wife (sourced from Wikimedia Commons, author unknown). This fragment is not from the Nag Hammadi collection, but is a good example of an early Christian text written in Coptic on papyrus. This fragment has itself been the source of much recent controversy.

J: Okay. Where do you want to start?

A: Well, for readers who aren't familiar with it, maybe we could start with some background.

J: I happen to know you already have a book on your desk with the relevant facts, so perhaps you'd like to talk about the history of it.

A (referring to textbook): The discovery of the Gospel of Thomas was one of those serendipitous finds, so extraordinary that you'd expect to see it in an Indiana Jones movie. But the history isn't disputed. Late in 1945, two Egyptian men discovered a large sealed pottery jar hidden beneath a large boulder near the village of Nag Hammadi in southern Egypt. They smashed the jar and found 13 leather-bound volumes inside, which were later sold. These volumes, which date from the mid-4th century CE and contain more than 50 texts, soon attracted the attention of scholars. The collection is called the Nag Hammadi library, and it's proven to be a goldmine for scholars of early church doctrine. The texts are considered to be Gnostic Christian rather than orthodox Christian, and some scholars have suggested the texts were hidden to protect them from a wave of persecution against Gnostics. The most famous of the books is the collection of Jesus's sayings -- your sayings -- called the Gospel of Thomas. There's disagreement among scholars as to whether the Gospel of Thomas should be considered a Gnostic text. Some believe it should instead be considered a text originating in a different but very early school of Christianity -- not quite Gnostic but not orthodox, either. Anyway, it's unique because it doesn't follow the narrative format of the four gospels we know from the Bible. Instead, it's a collection of sayings. Some of those sayings have sparked renewed mystical and creative interest in Jesus' original teachings. The movie Stigmata is an example of that interest.

J: And don't forget all those Da Vinci Code type books.

A: Those, too. You don't want to be learning your history from these books and films, but it's fun to sit down with a cup of hot tea and an entertaining novel on a cold snowy day.

J: Like today.

A: Yes. That's quite the storm out there today. A storm front all the way from Texas to Nova Scotia. I hope my boss calls to say we're closed today. Then maybe I could do a little reading. Catch up on the Gospel of Thomas -- which, to be honest, I haven't looked at in about two years. Last time I read it, I hadn't figured out the Gospel of Mark. But I think it's time to revisit the sayings in the Gospel of Thomas and try to figure out how they relate to Mark. All I really know at this point is what you've told in the past about the authorship of the Gospel of Thomas.

J: You mean the fact that the apostle John wrote the Gospel of Thomas.

A: It's so confusing. Who wrote the Gospel of Mark? Oh, that would be Matthew. But not the Matthew who wrote the Gospel of Matthew, because that author would be Paul's disciple Barnabas. And don't forget that Luke and Acts weren't written by a physician named Luke. And the newly discovered Gospel of Thomas wasn't written by Thomas, but was actually written by John. It's enough to give a person a headache.

J: It's interesting, isn't it, that John's name is actually on his other writings -- the Gospel of John, the letters of John, and Revelation.

A: Yes. How is it that John's name got preserved in so many places, and Paul's name got preserved in so many places, and your name didn't get preserved on any writings at all? We have texts we call "Pauline," and we have texts we call "Johannine," but we don't have any "Yeshuan" texts. In fact, we don't even have an adjective in English that corresponds to the name Jesus, so I have to use an adjective based on the Aramaic form of your name, Yeshua. Yet I know you did a lot of writing. So what happened? What happened to your name? And what happened to your writings?

J: Long story. It's complicated. It makes more sense if you understand the cast of characters, the people I actually lived with and worked with. It makes more sense if you understand the personal motivations for each person involved.

A: Including your own motivation.

J. Yes. Mine, too.

A: Okay. Let's start with your motivation, then. Can you describe briefly the core of your motivation?

J: To bring healing to disadvantaged children so they didn't have to go through what my daughter had to go through.

A: Oh.

J: Theologians have been pontificating for centuries about who I was and what I was trying to do. But nobody's taken the time or trouble to ask me. They all want me to be a reflection of themselves -- somebody who's more interested in how many angels can fit on the head of a pin than somebody who's interested in the core questions about humanity. Life and love. Healing. But after my daughter died, I couldn't have cared less about the Covenant or the Law. The Covenant did nothing to help my daughter. In fact, I'd say the Covenant was partly to blame for her death. After you've had a child die -- a child you care deeply about -- your life changes. It's no great mystery. I embarked on a journey of spiritual questioning and spiritual agony because I felt I owed it to my beloved child. It's as simple as that.

A: I understand.

J: Yes, because you've gone through the same thing. Nobody but a bereaved parent can completely understand. To lose a beloved child is to have your heart ripped out. Except that you don't lose your heart. If you accept the grief and you accept the loss, you end up finding your heart. It bleeds a lot, but it's there.

A: Many of the theologians who've written about you over the centuries have been neither parents nor bereaved parents.

J: Augustine of Hippo was a bereaved parent. This didn't help him find his heart, unfortunately.

A: Perhaps he was in denial. It's not uncommon for bereaved parents to withdraw completely from their emotions because it's too painful. They retreat into logic and end up focussing on the "mind" and "reason" so they don't have to feel anything anymore.

J: Exactly. Unfortunately, the orthodox Church is riddled with the immature "victim" psychology that comes with being emotionally crippled, with abandoning healthy, mature relationships with each other and with God.

A: Explain what you mean by "emotionally crippled."

J: I mean men and women who are emotionally immature, emotionally stunted, emotionally dissociated. Adults who don't have the courage of their own hearts and souls. It's hard work to deal with grief. And love. And Pauline Christians aren't good at it because they haven't been taught how. Whenever I hear the phrase "one body in Christ," I think of a zombie -- a lifeless corpse walking around with no heart and no capacity for empathy or deep compassion. There's lots and lots of talk in the Church about free will and reason and blind faith, but if you look closely, you'll see there's little talk about emotional maturity or emotional healing or faith based on empathy rather than on pure logic. That's why the Church doesn't teach people about forgiveness. Forgiveness is part of a messy package that includes love and grief and pain. Forgiveness is very hard work at an emotional and spiritual and psychological level. It has no appeal for people who are emotionally immature.

A: People like Paul.

J: And people like John the Baptist.

A: Hey -- that's a non sequitur.

J: Not when you know that John the Baptist and John the Evangelist were one and the same person.

A: I take it that reports of his death were greatly exaggerated?

J: There are always wars and rumours of wars. Always deaths and rumours of deaths. Sometimes the one prevents the other.


Update on August 9, 2015: (1) Photo of the Gospel of Jesus' Wife was added.

(2) For an interesting commentary on the Gospel of Thomas, please see the article called "The Gospel of Thomas: Jesus Said What?" by Simon Gathercole in the July/August 2015 Biblical Archaeology Review.  In this article, Dr. Gathercole talks about the history of the Gospel of Thomas's discovery, discusses theories for its date, and reviews some the Gospel's major theological themes.

On the question of whether the Gospel of Thomas can be understood as a Gnostic work, he says this:

"Nevertheless, it has always been something of an embarrassment for the "Gnostic" view of Thomas that there is no talk of an evil demiurge, a creation that is intrinsically evil, or of other familiar themes such as "aeons" (a technical term for the divine realms in the heavens).  Properly Gnostic gospels such as the Gospel of Judas and the Nag Hammadi Gospel of the Egyptians, have very complicated accounts of how multitudes of deities and aeons come into existence from a demonic power before the birth of the world.  There is nothing of this in Thomas, though."