Craig S. Keener

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5. A Jewish Context

AT LEAST SOME IN THE JOHANNINE circle of believers assumed that members of their circle were Jewish, whether by birth or by conversion to faith in Jesus (3 John 7). This should not surprise us in a circle associated with the name of John son of Zebedee, who could be viewed as one of the «pillars» of the Jewish mission (Gal 2:7–9). A Gospel that structures its chronology around Jerusalem festivals, engages in polemic with a Jewish elite as its main competitor, and exploits a variety of Jewish symbols cannot be understood apart from early Judaism. Granted, the author provides some explanatory asides that provide minimal information for new Gentile converts; but a long-term Jewish audience would understand more, and those who remembered Jerusalem before 70, whether from frequent pilgrimages from Galilee or rarer ones from Asia, would comprehend the details of the Gospel most fluently.

The trend of recent scholarship has been away from a non-Jewish Hellenistic milieu and toward a Jewish matrix for early Christianity.1410 Part of this trend may be due to NT scholars» increasing familiarity with Judaism. As Jewish scholar David Flusser points out, «Nobody who knows the ancient Judaism to which Jesus belonged can deny that Jesus» faith and thought were Jewish.»1411 The Dead Sea Scrolls have also had a major impact in the recognition that the supposedly Hellenistic features of John can be explained from a Palestinian milieu.1412 In few places in the study of the New Testament has this shift in perspective proved as dramatic as in the case of the Fourth Gospel, the Jewishness of which has come to be increasingly recognized in recent decades.1413 Many scholars now acknowledge that the thought-world of John is thoroughly Jewish,1414 and by the mid-1970s Bishop Robinson followed Lightfoot in regarding this Gospel as the most Hebraic book in the NT after Revelation.1415 The Dead Sea Scrolls exercised a major impact on Johannine scholarship.1416 Enough similarity has been found that some have even postulated a direct connection, or (not unreasonably, if not demonstrably) that the Johannine community includes some former Essenes.1417 One commentator is undoubtedly right in saying that, had the Qumran Scrolls been discovered a century earlier, the shape of Johannine scholarship in the intervening period would have looked quite different.1418

Even scholars specializing in the broader Greco-Roman milieu often acknowledge the specifically Jewish context of most early Christian literature.1419 Some concurred even earlier in the century;1420 long ago Dodd noted that the Fourth Gospel could «be read intelligently by a person with no previous instruction in Christianity, though no doubt a Christian reader would get more out of it. But it could hardly be so read without some knowledge of Judaism.»1421 Likewise William Ramsay, who thought that John «was written in Asia for Asiatic Hellenes,» confessed that it was not «specially comprensible to the Gentiles,» being thoroughly «Palestinian in its cast of thought and expression.»1422 What was once a concession, however, has now taken center stage in the Fourth Gospel's interpretation.

The Jewishness of the Gospel

Johns familiarity with Judaism and the Jewish Bible are considerations, although they are subsidiary considerations, unable to carry the case for Johns Jewishness by themselves (Gentiles would learn the Jewish Bible before or after their conversion to Christianity). The centrality of Scripture to John's argument1423 may nevertheless constitute one piece of evidence, since its absence would count against our case. Gentile Christians also used the Jewish Bible (nearly always the LXX); but in the earliest period this was precisely because they saw themselves as adherents of a form of faith rooted in Israel's ancient heritage. Only after a separate Gentile Christianity fully emerged could it divorce Israel's Scriptures and God from the heritage of Israel as a people (as in Barn, and to a lesser extent Justin Dial).

John's use of the OT is not dependent on the Synoptics1424 and possibly not even on messianic testimonia.1425 Instead, it apparently demonstrates a thorough knowledge of the Jewish Bible,1426 which should be expected of most first-century Jews.1427 Although some have argued forcefully that John uses only the Old Greek (roughly what we mean by the LXX),1428 not all the examples prove persuasive, and some of the older arguments for John's eclectic use of Hebrew and LXX text types1429 suggests either knowledge of Hebrew or a memorized, strongly Palestinian tradition.

He communicates in a hermeneutic particularly intelligible in his Jewish milieu.1430 His use of exodus typology1431 (though already introduced to the Gentile churches at least as early as Paul and the use of the LXX) and Isaiah1432 are rooted in Judaism and most easily recognized there. The Gospel is at least partly organized around the Jewish liturgical year,1433 and while Diaspora Judaism knew the feasts, very few Gentiles who did not attend synagogue would have known them.

Although Burney's arguments for an Aramaic original of John are unconvincing,1434 they may point to underlying Semitisms in places, particularly in the sayings of Jesus. This at least suggests that some of the traditions were transmitted in a Palestinian milieu or that John was bilingua1.1435 A much stronger argument for Johns Jewishness is that Revelation, very probably issuing from the same community as John,1436 would be incomprehensible to someone unfamiliar with Jewish apocalyptic1437 (although the LXX by itself would be quite helpful).

Such subsidiary arguments need not bear the weight of the case, however. As argued in the last chapter, one need only establish Jewish features unintelligible to those unfamiliar with Judaism to contend that a document issues from and probably addresses a Jewish milieu. The strongest argument for John's Jewishness is the fact that he deals with very Jewish issues in his work, some of which (such as the allusions in 2:6; 7:37–39) would make no sense outside a Jewish context. These issues will recur throughout this commentary, but we treat some briefly here.

Though John's audience, like most Greek-speaking Jews, shared many aspects of the larger Mediterranean culture, the Fourth Gospel drives home apologetic points of special interest for a specifically Jewish audience. These points are clearest in the narrative structure of the main body of the Gospel (the so-called Book of Signs).

Readers are expected to understand the significance of various Jewish customs, for example, purification vessels (2:6) and why Jesus comes to Jerusalem at Passover (2:13, 23); also the arguments about circumcision on the Sabbath (7:22–23) and witnesses (8:13–18).1438 John further structures his Gospel around festivals, whether Passover (chs. 2, 6, 18–19), the Sabbath (ch. 5), Tabernacles (chs. 7–10), or Hanukkah (10:22–39).1439

But John especially reveals his Jewish interests in his articulation of Christology. In 1:19–51 Jesus is the paschal lamb (1:29, 36; 19:36), as well as the king of Israel and Jacob's ladder (1:51). In 2:12–22, Jesus is the Psalmist's righteous sufferer (as also in 13:18; 15:25; 19:24), and perhaps the Lord coming to purify his temple (Mai 3:1–3). He is the uplifted serpent, God's appointed means of deliverance in the wilderness (3:14; Num 21:8–9). He is probably also the well in the wilderness for Jacob's descendants, necessary for their life (4:14; Num 21:16–17).

Jesus is greater than the Sabbath because he is God's agent in creation and, in the future, in judgment (5:18–29). Jesus is the eschatological manna in the wilderness (6:32,35), the promised source of water for Ezekiel's new temple (7:37–39; Ezek 47), the fulfillment of the same Jewish hope associated with the pool of Siloam (9:7). He is Zechariah's pierced one (19:37; Zech 12:10), and perhaps his source of waters (Zech 14:8; cf. 12:10) and shepherd (13:7). Jesus is greater than Jacob (4:12); greater than Moses the bread-giver (5:46; ch. 6); greater than Abraham (8:53) and the prophets (8:53). Indeed, he is divine Wisdom (1:1–18), inscrutable even to the teacher of Israel (3:11–13); the glory witnessed by Moses and Isaiah (1:14; 12:39–41); the agent of God's past and present creation (5:17) as well as the promised resurrection hope for the future (11:25; a hope unintelligible to most Gentiles); even the biblical «I am» (8:58). Disciples were like Moses, friends of Jesus as Moses was of God (1:14; 14:8; 15:15); or like Jacob, for whom Jesus was the ladder connecting heaven and earth (1:47–51).

Jesus is the ultimate, divine shepherd of Ezek 34 (John 10:11) and the Suffering Servant (13:1–11; see commentary). Just as Israel had to depend on God alone for its help, true life comes from depending on Jesus for «fruit» (15:2–6; Hos 14:8). All of this makes perfect sense of the claim that Jesus is the very embodiment and fulfillment of all God's «word» to his people (1:1–18).

Far from being anti-Jewish, John recognizes that all nations are drawn to Jesus at the cross (12:32; cf. 12:19–23), where they recognize him as «King of the Judeans» (19:19–22). That is, in a summation of the irony that he was at first rejected by his own ( 1:11, as well as the world in 1:10), in the end Jesus draws many nations to worship Israel's God, through their submission to the lordship of Israel's eschatological king. I suspect that John might think the present international community of Christians a massive vindication of his perspective, but would appreciate it more fully if they recognized their Lord as Israel's king and Israel as the historic vehicle through which they came to the one true God.

Could Gentile Christians appropriate such ideas? Certainly, but it was because they saw themselves as participants in a Jewish movement in dialogue with the synagogue. By the time of the Epistle of Barnabas and Justin Martyr, apologetic response to Jewish objections was part of Gentile Christianity's public defense; but John is closer in time and substance to Matthew's Gospe1.

We now turn to a discussion of the most relevant forms of Judaism for reconstructing the Fourth Gospel's primary milieu.

Diaspora Jewish Background

If one accepts, as we do, a non-Palestinian audience and probably non-Palestinian provenance for the completed Gospel, one must postulate a background in the Diaspora for at least its final editing (see, e.g., the explanation in 4:9). This invites an analysis of the situation that the Jewish community was facing in Asia Minor, as well as a comparison of the Fourth Gospel with Diaspora Jewish writers.

1. What Kind of Diaspora Judaism?

Although the Philonic trend in Johannine studies, popular in the early twentieth century, has waned considerably, many parallels between John and Philo can be drawn.1440 Some have argued for indirect influence,1441 but more scholars have simply argued for a similar milieu.1442 Brown is probably right in thinking that John would have been the same if Philo had not existed;1443 but Philo certainly expands our range of exegetical options beyond what we find in Palestinian Judaism.

That John writes to Jewish believers is in our opinion difficult to dispute. That John writes to believers whose native language is Greek, however, also seems safe to assume, and Hellenistic influences on the Gospel should not be minimized, regardless of the provenance of Johannine tradition. But John could target believers in Jewish areas. Even in many Mediterranean cities with large Jewish populations, Jews (like other ethnic minorities) generally congregated in their own communities (though doing business in the more integrated agora). House churches in walking distance within those communities thus would often have particular ethnic flavors. This might be less the case in some wealthy and assimilated Asian Jewish communities like Sardis,1444 Aphrodisias,1445 or Corycus1446 than in Rome, Antioch, or Alexandria, but ethnic-particular congregations should not surprise us. Because most Christians still understood the Jewish character of their movement, even Gentiles joining the movement would recognize themselves as following the God of Israel who had acted in the history of Israe1.1447

Some have argued that Johns readers belonged to a «heterodox» form of Judaism.1448 A comparison of the Johannine divine Spirit and the divine Spirit in early Judaism, for instance, would suggest that, on this issue at least, John's own position is closer to that of the Essenes than to that of Pharisaic Judaism as it came to be transmitted by the Tannaim.1449

But the categories «heterodox» and «orthodox» are misleading, since the line between orthodoxy and heterodoxy was only beginning to be drawn in this period, and later «orthodoxy» is established only from the standpoint of the Yavneh rabbis and their followers throughout the world. The most distinctly «heterodox» traits of the Johannine community from the emerging rabbinic perspective would be the nature of their faith in Jesus and probably their experience of the Spirit.

2. Relations with the Provincial Administration

An important feature of the Johannine community's context in Asian Judaism would be its relation to the Roman government. Christianity was often perceived as Jewish,1450 as late as Lucian's Peregrinus.1451 Some argue that it was not until Nerva that Roman policy perceived Judaism as a religious more than an ethnic entity.1452 Others argue that Rome must have been able to distinguish God-fearers and proselytes at an earlier period.1453 In any case, as early as Nerós persecutions Roman officials who wished to do so had been able to distinguish Jews and Christians. Many have claimed, following the language of Tertullian (cf. Apo1. 21.1), that Judaism was a religio licita.1454 Others deny that Judaism was exactly a religio licita1455 but acknowledge that Rome accorded Judaism the status of an ancient, ethnic religion, granting at least the Privilegium of assembly.1456 Because custom acquired potential legal force,1457 precedent became important,1458 as both early Jewish1459 and early Christian1460 writers recognized. Thus the emperor Claudius cited precedents from both his own administration and that of Augustus in supporting the rights of Alexandrian Jews to worship according to their customs.1461

Since «new» religions could face ambiguities of legal status,1462 Christianity's ostensible separation from its Jewish roots could expose it to mistrust and hence ultimately to persecution.1463 Not only early Christian texts but early second-century rabbinic traditions acknowledged that the state sometimes considered Christian practice a crime.1464 Luke in Acts strives to defend Christianity by emphasizing the continuity of Jesus» followers with the ancient religion of Israel,1465 sometimes challenging the divinely sanctioned status of non-Christian Judaism in the process.1466 But the increasing number of Gentiles entering the Christian community without accepting Jewish customs, together with the fact that faith in Jesus remained a minority option within Judaism, probably weakened his case among any Roman officials who knew of it.

After 70, the Diaspora Jewish community, cut off from the now deposed temple hierarchy, might have yet looked to Palestinian authorities permitted by the Romans for a symbol of Judaism's Palestinian centrality. Further, Diaspora Judaism, which suffered serious ill effects from the Palestinian revolt,1467 had strong reasons to avoid any association with apocalyptic messianic movements, especially those which prophesied the destruction of Rome (as in Revelation). Institutional leaders in the synagogue might well side with the Yavneh authorities against prophetic movements like the early Christians, and would have good reason to wish to dissociate themselves from Christian activities.

It is unlikely that much of the Jewish community persecuted Christians directly;1468 but it is likely that some felt they had good reason to hand them over to the Roman authorities, once Christians were perceived as disloyal to the emperor.1469 Revelation seems to presuppose a situation in which emperor worship had become an increasingly important sign of fidelity to Rome.1470 One cannot protest that the imperial cult would not have affected Christians this early; in fact, it probably affected them much earlier.1471 Divine honors had long before been accorded Julius Caesar at the permission of his successor Augustus;1472 Tiberius continued the tradition for Augustus;1473 and most other emperors were posthumously deified in the West,1474 but regarded as divine even in their lifetimes in Roman Asia.1475 Emperor worship was prominent in many of the cities mentioned in Revelation,1476 hence likely in Johns circle of churches; Ephesus was one of the most notable centers of the imperial cult.1477

Many scholars have argued that in the West the gesture was more or less symbolic, but the imperial cult throughout Italy suggests otherwise.1478 Certainly Claudius, who supported the worship of Augustus in Alexandria and permitted Alexandrians to grant himself divine honors,1479 warned that excessive divine honor would offend his colleagues in the Western empire.1480 Demanding worship during one s lifetime in the West usually seemed to be madness1481 and impiety.1482 In any case, in the East, the very antiquity of ruler worship would lead to a more serious interpretation of the act. Given the ancient predilection toward this practice in the East,1483 the social pressures on Christians must have been enormous, especially late in the reign of Domitian.1484

Others besides Christians had reasons to dislike Domitian.1485 His outrageous claims to divinity even in the West,1486 intolerance of perceived challenges to his own authority such as astrologers1487 and philosophers1488 in Rome contribute to the likelihood that Christians were persecuted.1489 Jewish resistance to the cult had engendered some suspicions,1490 but Christian resistance to the cult, without a safe enclave in ethnic religion, was bound to stir serious accusations of disloyalty.1491 Certainly later Christians like Tertullian believed that Domitian had repeated Nerós persecution of the church, though he believed that Domitian, unlike Nero, backed away from it (Apo1. 5.4).1492

The Johannine Christians thus had good reason to claim their continuing Jewishness, even if they, like most Christian communities, had experienced an influx of uncircumcized Gentile converts (which we regard as probable on the basis of their location, but not proven). Christianity's right to be seen as continuous with ancient Judaism is similarly a major feature of Lukan apologetic, especially in Acts 22–26, as noted above. The Jewishness of the Matthean community seems never to have been in question (possibly because of its location);1493 Mark seems not to make it an issue either way; Paul works from the premise, qualifying it for the inclusion of Gentiles (Rom 2:29; 11:18; Gal 3:14,29; 6:16; Eph 4:17; 1 Thess 4:5).

These may be important components of the Diaspora Jewish context that affect the situation experienced by the Johannine community.

A Palestinian Jewish Context?

Given our admission that the milieu of Johns audience was likely Diaspora Judaism and not Palestine, it may be asked why we now turn to a Palestinian Jewish context, not only for the Johannine tradition, but for some elements in understanding the Sitz im Leben of the Fourth Gospel itself.

1. Methodology

Our answer is twofold. First, we return to our methodology stated at the outset, that some evidence is better than no evidence. We have much more complete evidence for Judaism in Palestine than for Asian Judaism in this period, and, while we acknowledge the difference between them, evidence does suggest some elements in common; thus we look to the sources which provide us the most information. But second, despite their differences, Palestinian and Asian Judaism were not airtight categories, and travelers carried both news and reports of shame or honor from one synagogue to another.1494 Palestinian refugees exacerbated social tensions for Jews in Rome, and it is not unlikely that they exercised significant influence in Asia as wel1.1495 In the final analysis, it is not possible, given the state of our extant evidence, to demand the use of only local evidence. Thus, as Claudia Setzer points out in her study of Jewish reactions toward Christians (most often from Christian documents):

Frequently the provenance of a work is unknown, or even if known tells us little. An author may grow up in one place, study in another, and write in a third. He or his teachers may be travelers, garnering traditions from various places. Further, materials from the two most frequently identified locales–Syria-Palestine and Asia Minor–show the whole range of reactions, from tolerance to persecution.1496

At our cultural and chronological remove, locale, however important where we can reconstruct its distinctives, cannot provide the most decisive feature in reconstructing the background as a whole.

In view of such circumstances as the likelihood of some post-70 Palestinian refugees maintaining ties with relatives in Palestine, we suspect that some events in Palestine may have affected views in the Diaspora, just as the pre-66 temple hierarchy and the war with Rome had. It is certainly true that the academy at Yavneh could not yet, and perhaps never did, rival the prestige of the temple hierarchy; but it had a more consistently focused outlook, and after some twenty years of growing power in the Holy Land, sanctioned (whether actively or more likely passively) by the Romans who always ruled through local representatives, had perhaps gained some allies in the Diaspora.

Although different problems confronted different areas (for instance, the imperial cult was less central an issue in Jewish Palestine in this period), there were still some commonalities within synagogue Judaism, early Christianity, and Greco-Roman life in general that would mandate similar responses to similar problems. Because only the rabbinic texts explicitly address many of the questions we have about Jewish-Christian relations in this period, they are our best source (i.e., our only source) for reconstructing how a local hierarchy and those it influenced might look on the Jewish Christians in the synagogues. This means that many of the details of our reconstruction will necessarily be tentative; but it also suggests that our conclusions should represent a higher degree of probability than hypotheses that ignore the data we do have.

It is thus reasonable to appeal to rabbinic texts in a discussion of the particular Sitz im Leben of the Fourth Gospel, provided we keep in mind that: ( 1 ) the first readers of the finished Gospel probably lived outside of Palestine, so these data can at most suggest the Yavneh teachers» influence on some synagogues in the Diaspora (and at least suggests a possible analogy); (2) the Yavneh Academy had not yet gained prominence in the Diaspora (in contrast to what the Palestinian and Babylonian academies eventually achieved); (3) some accuracy in our picture of the Yavneh academy will be lost through the fact that even our earliest rabbinic texts were edited a century after the Fourth Gospel was written. Because we cannot return to these points with every commentary reference to rabbinic literature, these questions are treated in greater detail below.

2. The Diversity of Early Judaism

Judaism as a whole was very diverse before 70 C.E.; many groups, including the messianic Jews (Jewish Christians), existed under its umbrella.1497 Josephus's three «sects» account for only a few Jews, and less prominent other groups probaby existed.1498 The priests probably held an extremely influential position in Palestinian Judaism before 70 C.E.,1499 though their power probably declined quickly after that period. While I believe that the scribes probably influenced popular interpretation through their teaching of children, future scribes, and probably occasional lay instruction in the synagogues, no one school of thought ruled the scribes, whose teachings as a whole thus reflected as much as shaped popular Judaism.1500 Indeed, early rabbinic traditions themselves may imply Pharisaic competition with other views in the synagogues.1501

Most of Judaism was united on general practices and certain very basic issues (such as one God, the law's divine authority, Israel or the remnant as God's covenant people); but different groups could view one another with discomfort or even suspicion without questioning that all were Jewish.1502 Indeed, allegiance to the Jewish community as a whole was an ancient value repudiated only by sectarians and those motivated by a greater self-interest;1503 on the popular level, eclecticism was probably the norm.1504

Admittedly, diversity was not always maintained in tension with continuity in the larger community. The Essenes, for instance, were clearly sectarian, withdrawing from and pronouncing judgment on the larger society. Their claim to be the true Israel (by which they undoubtedly meant the faithful remnant of Israel) distinguished them from the larger Judaism of which they were generally no longer an active part.1505 And whatever unity may have existed in Palestinian Judaism, Diaspora Judaism may be judged even more diverse.1506 But tolerance of diversity remained the norm because it was necessary; Judaism existed in a hostile world, and Jews needed one another to survive.

After 70, this diversity began to diminish in Jewish Palestine;1507 the Sadducees» base of power disappeared with the temple,1508 revolutionary movements (including the revolutionary wing of the Pharisaic movement) were temporarily discredited,1509 and the Essenes appear to have gradually declined in influence.1510 This is not to imply that the aristocrats and other elite gathered at Yavneh immediately began to control Palestinian Judaism. The apparent impression of sudden extinction of other groups may be due in part to the lack of Pharisaic or Christian interest in preserving works attributed to their competitors,1511 but rabbinic and Christian texts alike testify that opposition to their views continued and that «Judaism» was in no sense monolithic in this period.

It is clear, however, that Pharisees, who Josephus tells us were already popular with the people,1512 gained in influence: one of the leaders of the rabbis at Yavneh, Gamaliel II, was son of the aristocratic Pharisee Simeon ben Gamaliel, who figures prominently in pre-70 Palestinian Judaism as a whole.1513 Because John as a biography depicts the «Pharisees"» roles in Jesus lifetime, it is helpful to explore briefly the roots of this influence in the pre-70 period, although Pharisaism's political strength in that period was more circumscribed by other persons and parties exhibiting closer ties to Rome. In the Roman phase of the Second Temple period,1514 the Pharisees lacked overt political power.1515 Apart from the reign of Agrippa I, the descendants of Herod (Antipas and Agrippa II) controlled Galilee, whereas Jerusalem's municipal aristocracy functioned as Romés local agents in Jerusalem.1516 Although the Pharisees may have been represented in that municipal aristocracy, the predominantly Sadducean aristocratic priesthood seems to have dominated.1517

The Pharisees had formed a sort of elite,1518 however, and wielded considerable influence with the masses.1519 Although not all were scribes, they seem to have acquired a reputation for more detailed precision in understanding the law (Josephus Life 191). Some prominent first-century Pharisees participated in Jerusalem's municipal aristocracy alongside the leading priests (Josephus Life 21). Simon ben Gamaliel joins with Ananus the high priest to authorize legates to execute their will in Galilee (Josephus Life 216). When the priestly aristocracy sent aristocratic representatives to Galilee, some of those sent were Pharisees (Josephus Life 196). Thus some scholars have even compared them with a typical «retainer» class.1520 With the demise of the leading priests in Jerusalem during the Jewish revolt, the Pharisees were well-positioned to have their interests represented in a new coalition of power.

The increasing power of some Pharisees after 70 would thus not be surprising. Yavneh was one of the Judean cities controlled by the Herodian family with Romés approval,1521 and there Vespasian settled Judeans willing to submit to Rome, who would have included many aristocrats with vested interests.1522 Some argue that the leading citizens among those settled there were especially Pharisees;1523 others suggest that the leaders were scribes in general, including but not limited to Pharisees.1524 In any case, many of the leaders (such as Gamaliel and Eliezer ben Hyrcanus) were Pharisees–which fits the otherwise probably inexplicable portrait of their role in a hostile Judean leadership in the Fourth Gospe1. The Pharisees and Jewish Christians probably had a more amicable relationship in the sixties,1525 but some factors surrounding the Judean revolt–perhaps the need to consolidate influence afterwards, perhaps the social class or just idiosyncrasies of Yavnehs surviving elite–seem to have changed the relationship to what appears presupposed in Matthew and John.1526

That the rabbis spoke and wrote with authority does not indicate that everyone observed or even understood their legal rulings, even where they were accepted as experts;1527 they achieved only gradually the status they held by medieval times.1528 As late as the fourth century, archaeological evidence shows that observant Palestinian Judaism did not abide by rabbinic norms,1529 although the same evidence shows that popular legal practice and rabbinic opinion often coincided, perhaps because rabbinic opinion often reflected existing legal traditions.1530 Because they became the «winners» in subsequent Jewish history, however, their perspective has often been read as normative.1531

Of course, the average Jewish Palestinian peasant, while influenced by more educated classes, was probably influenced more by the popular trends of the culture than by rabbinic rulings. This need not mean that the rabbis were disrespected, but that untrained people then, like most people today, were eclectic and synergistic; sharing a common basis of morality, popular ideology, and popular stories in folk religion, they may have been no more skilled in the intricacies of rabbinic disputes than the average U.S. citizen is in the details of U.S. case law. Roman legal scholars were likewise heeded at times–and usually ignored.1532 Especially before the abortive Bar Kokhba revolt, apocalyptic ideas must have flourished on the popular level as in the Dead Sea Scrolls. Such ideas probably influenced revolutionaries like the Zealots, though Josephus's Hellenistic apologetic excludes such ideas from mention.

That Diaspora Christians knew something of Palestinian Judaism, whether from the Jesus tradition or from Diaspora Judaisms knowledge of Palestinian Judaism, is evident from other early Christian literature (e.g., Paul assumes it in Phi1. 3:5; cf. 1 Thess 2:14–15).

Davies and Allison are convinced that Matthew addressed local pastoral issues but that these local issues were impacted by the «larger Pharisaic world,» and suggest that the parallels between Pharisaic teachings and Matthew must be more than coincidence.1533 To this one can soundly reply that the clearest parallels may reflect broader Jewish currents than in Pharisaism alone. But their basic point stands, and is applicable to John as well as to Matthew (especially given John's probably slightly later date): ancient Mediterranean Jewry was probably better networked, hence news (or purported news) traveled more freely, than most modern scholars suppose. Couriers in the first century could get from Rome to London in one week; the most important impact of the Reformation spread through much of Europe in five years; in the seventeenth century, in less than three years Sabbatianism circulated through all Europe from Turkey.1534 (For further discussion of the networking of eastern Mediterranean urban areas, including among Christians, see discussion of this point in the introduction, ch. 1, under our treatment of John and the Synoptics.)

3. Excursus: The Value of Rabbinic Texts for Johannine Study

Although in most cases the requisite space constraints of this commentary have prohibited detailed interaction with current disputes in Jewish and classical scholarship, I have felt that NT scholars» frequent dismissal of rabbinic sources from consideration warrants a more thorough response. Although we regularly draw on a wide range of sources from varying periods and locations to illustrate ancient Mediterranean culture in general–most helpfully when in conjunction with diverse sources pointing in the same direction–it is rabbinic sources whose use appears to be most frequently challenged in NT studies. Given the peculiar problems in rabbinic literature (most significantly its dating and diversity), this challenge may be appropriate; nevertheless, on many points rabbinic sources are all we have. When our evidence is limited, our conclusions are tenuous; but some evidence remains better than no evidence, and even a relatively late and isolated source that moves somewhere in the general cultural continuum of Mediterranean antiquity is more likely to provide the basis for a useful educated guess than a modern argument from silence would.

After all, social-sciences approaches to the NT today regularly employ models from cultures totally unrelated to the era in question, or sometimes somewhat related current Mediterranean cultural practices. These approaches are nevertheless helpful because they provide better ways of asking questions than our own cultural presuppositions do, and sometimes enable us to make educated guesses where lacunae remain in our knowledge of Greco-Roman antiquity. In view of the widespread use of later models, it seems inconsistent to rule out the use of Jewish sources within a few centuries of the NT. Of course, similar models need not guarantee the same customs, and some continuity of customs and ideas with broader Jewish life and thought is more likely than accuracy of specific biographic information. But we should not exclude the cultural value of these data when they are more apt to give us culturally relevant comparisons than those we inadvertently assume on the basis of purely modern Western thought.

3A. New Testament Scholarship and Rabbinic Literature

While many NT scholars have used rabbinic sources to represent one stream of ancient thought without detailed explanation, the issue is more pressing in interpreting the Fourth Gospe1. The consensus on the Fourth Gospel's context that emerged after Brown's and Martyn's works of the late 1960s drew heavily on rabbinic sources, but many NT scholars today dismiss the use of such sources even to illustrate one stream of early Judaism among others. Can the basic picture of conflict between Jewish Christians and synagogue authorities in the late first century be maintained, apart from allusions within the Christian documents themselves?

Despite the correspondence of many themes and historical connections between the rabbinic literature and the Fourth Gospel, scholars have understandably questioned the use of the former in interpreting the latter. Jt must be recognized that all extant rabbinic literature is later, that it is diverse, and that it is representative of a particular form of Judaism that had itself only recently begun to develop and exert influence on the rest of Judaism when the Fourth Gospel was written. One of the most perverse traditions in NT criticism has been the polemical distortion of rabbinic sources;1535 as Geza Vermes points out, «Religious writings disclose their meaning only to those who approach them in a spirit of sympathy»1536 (a warning also appropriate, perhaps, to students of early Christian documents). Discussions of the sources have often become heated, even on a popular leve1.1537

Recent scholars have severely critiqued the ahistorical perspective by which previous scholars mined rabbinic literature for Jewish opinions, without recognizing the diversity of early Judaism or the development in the rabbinic sources. Rabbinic literature is one body of Jewish texts among others, and provides some of our evidence for early Judaism; but the later and more specific a tradition, the less valuable it is for understanding first-century Judaism. (One probably should not, for example, suppose that the core of Sipra reflects instructions used by priests in the temple before 70; though it is Tannaitic, it is very specific.)1538 In the same way, editors of specific rabbinic documents clearly redacted stories and sayings to fit the documents as a whole.1539 Further, rabbinic literaturés focus on halakic questions (often defining theoretical questions that likely arose in practice only relatively rarely)1540 reflects the purpose of the literature, but need not limit the religious experience of the rabbinic community.1541

Nevertheless, the utility of the literature for our study should not be ruled out;1542 on some points, in fact, it is all the evidence we have, even if that evidence must be treated as less than certain.1543 Granted, local sources are better than foreign ones and contemporary ones better than later ones, but historians of antiquity regularly have to depend on a single source, often confirmed by later sources. Thus by this usual historical approach, if some reference in the NT «is supported by later rabbinic law, then in accordance with the routine practice of ancient historians, we have to treat it as a terminus post quern» provided it is a view that the rabbis could have derived from the broader continuum of early Judaism.1544

As Vermes points out, many scholars who insist on using only Qumran texts and rejecting rabbinic literature do not know rabbinic texts well, hence are eager to embrace this approach; yet the rabbis certainly did not borrow their traditions from the Gospels. He thus argues for using all available early Jewish sources to shed light on different facets of early Judaism.1545 In this volume, rabbinic literature will be treated as one useful strand of evidence by which we seek to reconstruct the broader cultural and social milieu of early Judaism–not as if implying that the NT borrows from rabbinic tradition, but that notable commonalities probably reflect a common source in early Judaism or at times in the generally Pharisaic movement of scholars that coalesced into rabbinic Judaism.

3B. Neusner's Minimalism

The school setting of rabbinic tradition naturally invited development. Students in Greek and Roman rhetorical schools (depicted, e.g., in Seneca the Elder's Disputes) declaimed on various hypothetical legal issues, thereby developing skills in argumentation. Rabbis and disciples focused more on Jewish law and precedents, but the varied positions and arguments in typical halakic pericopes suggest that the argumentative process was important even if basic halakic content remained fairly stable. Haggadic material, by contrast, probably developed through oral storytelling, analogous to the way Greeks developed accounts of their epic heroes (compare, e.g., mythographers such as Apollodorus). In either case, no one can doubt that centuries of debate and development would lead to change. How dramatic was that change, and what implications does it hold for NT scholarship?

Some NT scholars, rightly wishing to avoid the mistakes of Strack-Billerbeck and lacking firsthand familiarity with rabbinic literature, have understandably become uncomfortable with the idea of using rabbinic texts at al1. They have often been influenced by critiques from Jacob Neusner and some of his students concerning those who ignore proper dating of rabbinic materials, but have not always appreciated the actual empirical results of some of Neusner's works and the distinction between those results and the appropriate contexts for his historical methodology. (I say «some» because Neusner's methodology, like that of most scholars, has developed over time.) Neusner allows that rabbinic literature can be useful to NT studies if one distinguishes what is useful from what is not;1546 in the end, however, he accepts little as useful for history, doubtful that the Mishnah– probably our earliest rabbinic source–sheds much light on the time of Jesus.1547 Granted, the Mishnah's agenda and date hardly ensure historical accuracy for the early first century; but this need not rule out its value as one witness among many to longer-standing customs or ideas.

Neusner has both defenders1548 and challengers in the field. One of his most vocal challengers has been E. P. Sanders,1549 who argues, among other things, that Neusner is extremely inconsistent in his own writings.1550 Neusner in turn criticizes Sanders for arguing for commonalities in early Judaism so banal that his «common Judaism» offers little of substance1551–which I believe most scholars who have read Sanders» work will regard as a caricature of his actual position. Neusner's consistent preference for detail and documents, yielding distinct «Judaisms,» is one legitimate perspective; but like our attempt at a broader portrait from Josephus and Greco-Roman sources, Sanders provides more evidence for common ground among pious Judeans than Neusner acknowledges.

Probably more than any other scholar, Neusner has properly drawn our attention to the importance of taking into account the distinct documents in which rabbinic traditions appear;1552 thus, for example, if we cite for a tradition seven rabbis, all of whose citations appear in Gen. Rab., one may suspect that the editor of Gen. Rab. had something to do with the presentation of this view.1553 (In fact, due to space constraints, I have cited traditions by document and only rarely by attribution anyway, though my personal notes include the attributions.) But Neusner's critique of Vermes's attempt to set early Christianity in a Judaic context1554 is overstated. A thorough study of, say, Matthew, would focus on that document and perhaps traditions shared with other gospels; but one wishing to describe early Christianity or, for that matter, the first-century eastern Mediterranean world, or even elements of ancient Mediterranean culture in general, would nevertheless not be wrong to cite various NT documents for ideas illustrating some of the thought of the day, provided we cast the net as widely as possible and do not pretend that our samples represent a monolithic «early Christianity.»

In his early three-volume work, The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees Before 70, for instance,1555 Neusner shows the tenuousness of attributing particular sayings to pre-70 sages when the attributions surface only later in rabbinic literature.1556 At the same time in this work (perhaps more so than in more recent ones) he «takes seriously» post-70 attributions in Tannaitic collections and regards «post-140 attributions as absolutely reliable.»1557 (Getting attributions right was at least formally considered important in the early post-70 period.)1558 In this work he regards many thematic traditions in the Shammai and Hillel Houses as genuinely pre-70 though «the actual formulation and wording of pericopae» is generally later.1559 In a more recent work he warns that attributions to Hillel are no more necessarily correct than rabbinic attributions to Jeremiah or Moses, the historical authenticity of which we invariably reject.1560

But while Neusner is right that later rabbis stylized earlier traditions and that we do not have access to the ipsissima verba of pre-70 sages,1561 this is hardly the same as implying that we have no pre-70 ethical or legal tradition, a thesis this monumental work on the Pharisees does not actually argue.1562 As of this book's writing there are North Americans alive today who remember firsthand accounts of slavery from their own grandparents. A band of religious scholars concerned with passing on and practice of oral traditions could certainly have done so, even if our extant sources for those traditions are far later than their own sources. Josephus informs us, after all, of the importance Pharisees placed on traditions passed down from their predecessors. While this hardly precludes innovations in sayings material (and such innovations demonstrably occurred, as Neusner in particular has shown), it does suggest some measure of continuity in method and practice, especially where the literature reveals customs or general cultural perspectives. The very popularity of the Pharisees among the people (Josephus Ant. 13.298) may suggest that they more frequently reflect mainstream popular Judean thought than their competitors.1563

In this earlier work Neusner thinks that a rabbi generally quoted traditions in the name of his authority for that tradition when he could do so, except where it was simply widely understood that a certain authority (e.g., Judah ha-Nasi) or collection always depended on a particular source. He thinks that most other anonymous material derives from a rabbís own reasoning, but allows that he may have forgotten where he heard it, have heard it from a nonauthoritative (perhaps nonrabbinic) source, or had a special reason for omitting the name.1564 (Others hold different views on some of the anonymous materia1.)1565 To these qualifications we might add one that is most important for our work: some views may have become such common rabbinic or broader Jewish tradition that they required no specific authority's name beside them.

Attributions to first-century sources are scarce enough in the literature, and when many of them surface only in the latest collections, we are rightly suspicious of them.1566 It is likewise fairly clear that attributions were not for the purpose of preserving historical data for biographies of those to whom attributions were made;1567 in his recent work, Neusner emphasizes that rabbis actually regularly invented attributions as well as sayings and stories.1568

But if sayings or ideas rapidly became the property of the community,1569 their sources could be more ancient than the specific rabbis who first cited them or to whom they were attributed (from whom those reporting them first heard the account).1570 (For an example, one might compare m. "Abot 1:6,16, where the same brief principle is attributed to both R. Gamaliel and the pre-Christian teacher Joshua ben Perachiah.)1571 Although the practice of direct attribution apparently became more common in the post-70 period,1572 this need not indicate a radical break from other earlier traditioning methods (which may have often not reported attributions) after 70. There was, after all, some sort of traditioning before 70 C.E., unless Jewish schools emphasized learning prior opinions far less than other schools in the ancient Mediterranean world.1573 Josephus stresses the Pharisees as conservators of tradition (Josephus Ant. 13.297).

Neusner's is a minimalist approach (the sort followed by many NT scholars, and perhaps originally informed in part by the methodology of NT form criticism). This approach has considerable value; a minimalist approach is very important for ascertaining the critical minimum of most probable historical data. (On these grounds it is interesting how often the Fourth Gospel fits the portrait of pre-70 Judaism.)1574

At the same time, such an approach necessarily excludes much data that reflect a general cultural continuum valuable for studies such as our own.1575 In severely critiquing Shaye Cohen for assertions about the reliability of some traditions Neusner says he has not proved, for instance, Neusner concedes (even if only for the sake of the methodological argument) that Cohen's views «may well be true»;1576 they remain possible, simply impossible to prove. But if onés methodology is not minimalist, one will want to present evidence for what is possible, even if one must rule out such evidence when stronger evidence to the contrary is available. Neusner complains about «pseudocritical» rabbinic scholars (among whom he sometimes seems to place the majority of rabbinic scholars) who accept at face value rabbinic claims unless one can make a case against them; he argues that the «Anglo-American tradition of pragmatism» demands the reverse, that one suspects rabbinic traditions unless one can make a case in their favor.1577 The data do indeed suggest that ancient rabbis were not much interested in history as we define it; but when many customs and matters of worldview confirm those that appear in early Christian or other early documents, and when the influence of those documents on the rabbis may be held to be negligible, minimalism may exclude more evidence than is helpfu1.

For our purposes, fourth-century evidence of a particular view may be better than no evidence at all, but if this material appears in isolation, it is only a little better than no evidence at all, and it thus must be used with caution. However, a specific fourth-century example of what appears to express a more general impulse of the milieu, in its broader attitudes or customs, may prove helpful in conjunction with other evidence, just as a citation from fourth-century Roman sources may. Many details in the literature are later, while themes and principles (including those codified only later) appear more consistently throughout the tradition. Because our data on some ideas and practices in antiquity are limited, we have followed the premise that some evidence is better than no evidence, rather than a minimalist approach useful for the more specific historical reconstruction for which it was designed. Because of limited space, we list all possible sources, trusting that those sufficiently trained to be interested in our sources are also those who will immediately recognize the general dates in which the different documents were edited.

Not all the material that some form-critical and source-critical methods would exclude as necessarily early is necessarily late. For instance, one cannot always assume that Amoraic reports of Tannaitic traditions are Amoraic compositions. The Mishnah and Tosefta hardly report all the traditions; they have their own Tendenz and their editors would have had their own favorite collections and sayings. But plenty of other Tannaitic traditions may have been preserved in collections and oral traditions no longer extant; while these may thus surface in our extant literature only in the Amoraic period, the traditions may be earlier.1578 Neusner's Synoptic charts on the Pharisees clearly do bring into question why so many of these traditions surface only later, and he is surely right that the tradition grew in time. His data make clear that sayings and stories preserved in later materials are at least often (and probably very often) later inventions.

3C. External Support for Some Traditions

But other sources attest that some traditions are definitely early even though they appear only late.1579 Thus archaeological evidence verifies the antiquity of many later reports about Jewish ritual purity practices,1580 burial practices, and other details.1581 Rabbinic halakah can sometimes be paralleled in Josephus,1582 Philo,1583 and the Dead Sea Scrolls,1584 suggesting some Jewish customs far broader than the rabbinic movement; other rules are paralleled enough in broader Greco-Roman literature to suggest that they were part of the general milieu,1585 and may have affected Palestinian Jewish thought at any period, earlier as well as later. Jewish scholars have also found references in the NT helpful as indicators that traditions existed as early as the first century;1586 it is far more likely that the rabbis and the early Christians drew on common elements of Jewish thought and practice than that the rabbis drew on the NT, which they repudiated and usually ignored.1587 (Jeremias may be correct that rabbinic literature purposely ignores early Christianity,1588 but it is also clear that the rabbis deliberately avoided ideas which might be associated with Christianity.1589) Others also find traditions in works like L.A.B.1590 and the Qumran scrolls1591 comparable to later rabbinic haggadah that suggest the rabbis preserved many old stories.

My own unpublished study in haggadic traditions paralleled in nonrabbinic Jewish sources likewise convinced me that some rabbinic traditions reflect earlier common-Jewish traditions, although I did not find anywhere close to the majority of traditions common to the two streams of sources.1592 One may note, for instance, the parallels between haggadic traditions in Jubilees and the rabbis, such as the use of Ps 90 for Adam's lifespan,1593 the activity of angels at creation,1594 Eden's creation on the third day,1595 and the Noahide laws.1596 The contrasts, which sometimes may imply polemic against earlier traditions, may also be telling, for instance regarding the creation of angels on the first day,1597 Enoch haggadah,1598 the fallen angels of Genesis 6,1599 pagan gods as demons versus nonexistent,1600 and of course the often-noted calendrical differences.1601 Where controls from earlier documents are present, they suggest that some rabbinic traditions are early; they do not, however, provide ways to determine which ones are early when such controls are not present.

Some popular ideas (such as demonological speculation attested by amulets and Jewish magical papyri)1602 were also largely suppressed in Tannaitic texts1603 but finally surface abundantly in Amoraic materials;1604 since the rabbinate was not an exclusively hereditary occupation,1605 there were many opportunities for young scholars to take nonrabbinic popular ideas with them into their academies.

3D. Difficulties in Tradition Criticism

Neusner and others have sought to provide criteria for evaluating the dating of respective traditions and eliminating later accretions. This enterprise is important, but necessarily involves some ambiguity. For instance, if two versions of a pericope exist, it need not follow that all the details of a generally dependent version are not original,1606 although such could be (and probably often was) the case. This principle may be demonstrated by a more familiar Synoptic problem; Matthew and Luke may independently add a detail to a Markan account, sometimes suggesting an earlier common tradition which Mark at some points also followed (Mark 3:26–27 vs. Matt 12:28; Luke 11:20). In other words, a secondary account might weave other data into the main source it followed, without the data necessarily being fabricated or late. Or could not rabbinic texts, which tend to be stated concisely, allude to larger stories in the communal memory, the way partial citations of Scripture seem to have functioned in rabbinic texts? Minimalist methodology naturally excludes the «could be»; but in seeking only what is assured such methodology will necessarily exclude some data that are genuine and cohere with our broader picture. Only when we possess sufficient samples to conclude that the addition is consistently later does the argument move from somewhat probable to very probable.

Nor are all arguments advanced for the late composition of certain elements as logical as they might first appear. Most of Neusner's general conclusions in The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees Before 70 are sound, but some of his arguments there are open to question. For instance, some inconsistencies that he attributes to sloppy redaction1607 could instead be a mark of antiquity and lack of tampering. Similarly, while Hillel and other early figures first become central in Ushan material,1608 this need not indicate that the traditions that first appear then were fabricated then. Could a new desire for continuity with the past have led to this emphasis in Ushan material, drawing on general popular stories that had not been counted worthy of specifically rabbinic transmission in the Yavnean period? Further, in some of Neusner's own Synopses, earlier traditions are sometimes fuller in crucial points of the outline of what is recorded than later ones.1609 And some of his suggestions, like those of other form critics, are reasonable but by their very nature necessarily speculative; if we mistrust reconstructed texts, how much more should we be cautious in our historical reconstructions that contradict the only complete account we have before us?1610

Of course, it is not only arguments for the earliest possible date of traditions, but also those for their terminus ad quem (the latest possible date) that remain uncertain; this reinforces the degree to which work in this area must remain hypothetical, as some observations from The Rabbinic Traditions about the Pharisees Before 70 may illustrate. Whereas Neusner suspects that the Shammaites are accorded the rhetorically superior position of a final word in many pericopae because they still maintained some power during the editing of the Houses-material,1611 such a conclusion need not (though may) follow.1612 In that work he argues that Judah ha-Nasi must have accepted the collection in the already-redacted form in which it came to him,1613 but why would Judah not have redacted it further? That Judah did not bring the Hillelites out on top suggests that he was conservative with regard to the tradition; but the collection on which he depends may have been equally conservative in that matter.

It would be far from the mark to suggest that such questions reflect poorly on Neusner's voluminous contribution to the field–regardless how one may pick at particular details, his case for the progressive development of the tradition is difficult to dispute. Further, his translations (which despite detractors on details are generally reliable) made more feasible the breadth of rabbinic citations in this commentary among others. Nor should Neusner himself be faulted for many NT scholars abandoning the use of rabbinic sources: in many cases they did so because he properly eliminated their previous dependence on Strack-Billerbeck. But the current debate should not rule out the use of rabbinic literature alongside other sources for reconstructing early Judaism; while approached with caution, the material need not all be treated with the occasional absolute skepticism, and more often dismissal, to which it has been subjected in current research on early Christianity. Even a total disjunction of thought after the destruction of the temple in 70 would not rule out the utility of post-70 sources for understanding Johannine thought over two decades after 70; and the rabbinic movement probably preserved and developed many aspects of one strand of pre-70 piety.

In the end, Neusner is right that «What we cannot show, we do not know»;1614 nevertheless, much of what we cannot refute we also do not know to be false, and it stands a likelier chance of containing evidence than mere guesswork would. Thus onés methodology must reflect onés objective: to find the certain core or a broader range of uncertain but possible data. Because our goal is general cultural information and not rabbinic biography, we have focused on the latter.

3E. Conclusions

Onés methodology must reflect onés objectives: in establishing a critical minimum of historical data, Neusner's approach appears the best. But if one must draw from the widest possible range of sources to provide plausible historical reconstructions otherwise impossible–a task Neusner probably would not endorse but which historians of the period must often undertake–more of the evidence must be admitted. Neusner's claim, «What we cannot show, we do not know»1615 works with a minimalist objective; for our objective, the better principle is, «Some evidence is better than no evidence,» even if some evidence is less than certain.

While none of these arguments or observations constitutes proof that any particular materials are early, it is meant to answer in advance criticisms raised for our use of rabbinic literature alongside other sources to reconstruct the milieu in which John wrote. This defense is perhaps most significant, though at the same time weakest, where our only evidence is rabbinic, as in the case of the controversy with the minim (below). At such points, rabbinic data may not reflect a direct continuity with the Fourth Gospel's milieu; it does, however, provide the only objective control we have for reconstructing elements of that milieu for which we have no other evidence.

Conflict with the Synagogue

We must understand not only the general cultural milieu but the particular Sitz im Leben, or life-setting, of the Fourth Gospel if we are to uncover the factors influencing John's selection and editing of his sources, and so understand the points he is making in the context of his own milieu.1616 That John would expect his original audience to hear the book in their shared social context is probably safe to assume and implicit within the genre.1617 The general cultural framework is much easier to reconstruct, but as well as possible we should seek to reconstruct the situation as wel1.

1. Scholarly Discussion about the Conflict

Views about setting in life affect the context in which we read the Gospel, for better or for worse. For example, the late second-century church read the Gospel as a polemic against gnosticism, finding it useful for that purpose; the gnostics undoubtedly saw a different purpose for the Gospe1. Many scholars, based on a particular reading of 20:30–31, believe the Gospel was written to evangelize Diaspora Jews and proselytes.1618 Although it is hardly likely that allies of the synagogue authorities would be willing to hear the book, Jewish friends and relatives not yet committed on the issue might. But given the meaning of «faith» in the gospel (which informs our reading of 20:30–31; see our comment there), and the fact that John presupposes his audiences knowledge of many events and people from the Gospel story, he probably encourages the faith of those who are already believers, summoning them to deeper faith.1619 He may wish to equip them for their own debates and witness, however (15:26–27), as Luke may have wished to accomplish in the speeches in Acts. Knowing what conflicts prompted his particular emphasis on how to believe in Christ's signs (20:30–31) is significant.

Even though many no longer go as far as J. Louis Martyn concerning the centrality of the Birkath Ha-minim (see below), most scholars today recognize conflict with the synagogue as part of the Fourth Gospel's setting, usually (though not always) including an expulsion of Johannine Christians from the synagogues.1620 Views on details differ. Some doubt that Johannine Christians had recently been part of the synagogue,1621 or think that they have parted ways with the synagogue and joined forces with Gentile Christians,1622 or that the finished Gospel has substituted a Gentile mission for an earlier and unsuccessful Jewish mission.1623 Many think that they have moved away from their Jewish roots to some degree, though most believe their basic world of thought remains Jewish.1624

But departure from Jewish roots is unlikely within the generation of Jewish Christians who have felt excluded from their synagogue communities; one suspects that such a rapid repudiation of Jewish heritage is plausible only to Gentile Christians, whose traditions have downplayed their own biblical heritage in Judaism. Because such Jewish Christians would have not only a heritage but also extended family ties in the synagogue community, it is likely that give-and-take continued between churches and synagogues, including those in Asia, as long as local leaders did not oppose it too harshly (Acts 18:19, 26; 19:8–9; cf. 9:20; 13:5, 14–15; 14:1). Certainly many Jewish Christians earlier in the century had continued to attend local synagogues (Acts 9:2; 22:19; 26:11; cf. 15:21; 2Cor 11:24). Part of the crisis for many Johannine Christians may have been feeling cut off from the synagogue communities, feeling publicly maligned in the places where family and friends still participated in public prayer.1625

Conflict between the Jewish Christians and leaders in Judean society certainly predate both 70 C.E. and the probably later Birkath Ha-minim (on which see below).1626 Nevertheless, such conflicts undoubtedly intensified as many surviving Judean leaders vied with the Jewish Christians for influence that was no longer determined by control of the temple. Many scholars thus feel that the relation to Judaism pictured in John fits best the period after 70 C.E.,1627 when some believe that church and synagogue were locked in a fierce struggle.1628 This view is in fact much older than its recent popularity might indicate.1629

At this time, the heirs of the Pharisaic sages, who along with the Jewish Christians had survived the 66–70 war with Rome, may have sought to consolidate Judaism along the lines of their own «orthodox» praxis of Torah.1630 Before 70, the Jewish Christians observed the law and functioned as a Jewish sect, benefitting from Judaism's tolerance of diversity; but after 70, some Jewish leaders

would no longer tolerate a religious party, such as the Jewish Christians, advocating a supranational, universalistic outlook. At the same time there is some evidence that after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 the Jewish Christian apostolate gained considerable influence among the Jews and thus became a greater threat to Pharisaic leaders; this was especially the case because Christians saw the destruction of Jerusalem as a judgment Jesus had foretold (Mark 13; Matt 24; Luke 21).1631

This makes sense as a setting for the Fourth Gospe1. The Judeans, who are much less positive toward Jesus in this Gospel than are the Galileans,1632 may represent the heirs of the Jerusalem leaders in Yavneh, which was in Judea. The impression one gets from the Fourth Gospel is that the Johannine community or its allies in Galilee felt repressed by the Judean Pharisees or their allies in Asia (7:13; 9:22; 20:19). After all, the Pharisees represent only part of the opposition in Mark, much more in Matthew, but have become identical with the opposition in John. The Sadducees do not appear in John (the «scribes» appear only in the interpolation of 7:53–8:11, in 8:3). Such a situation of conflict fits what we know of the churches» struggles in at least Smyrna and Philadelphia in Asia Minor (Rev 2:9–10; 3:7–9).1633 Hostility between Jewish Christians and other Jews apparently had early roots in Ephesus (Acts 19:8–9, 33–34; 21:27–29; for the many Jewish Christians there, 19:9–10, 17), but events in Smyrna and Philadelphia were more recent.

Rabbinic sources on the minim, «schismatics,» are not the ideal source for reconstructing the intra-Jewish conflict in this period, but they do resemble the picture we have from some of the Christian sources, and it is important to make use of all the relevant data.1634 It is extremely doubtful that official dialogue occurred between Jewish Christians and the rabbis at Yavneh.1635 Although it is not clear that any rabbis became Christians,1636 rabbinic fear of contamination from heretical ideas intensified.1637 Nevertheless, both Tannaim and Amoraim appear to have engaged in some serious discussions with the minim, or «heretics.»1638 Although minuth, «heresy,» was dangerous, some may have suspected value in dialogue, as R. Judah ha-Nasi reportedly knew from his friend Antoninus.1639 In time the opportunities for dialogue may have declined as the intensity of the polemic increased.1640

As noted above,1641 rabbinic literature includes many brief controversy stories where rabbis debate with various groups, including pagans,1642 «Persians,»1643 «Samaritans,»1644 «philosophers,»1645 «Epikoroi,»1646 emperors,1647 and Sadducees,1648 so it is not surprising that they also debate with minim.1649 How many of these debates actually took place is difficult to determine; probably most accounts are fictitious but reflect the historical reality that Jewish teachers disagreed publicly and privately with other groups.1650 But at least rabbinic texts usually attribute various opinions to the appropriate sectarian groups, and appear accurate on the topics of halakah being debated;1651 at times they may include material from polemical collections and testimonial1652 The conflict dialogues in the Fourth Gospel (which are virtually monologues of the divine Jesus) appear to reflect Johannine polemic against the synagogue leadership.1653 Since the Johannine polemical material often refers «to the beliefs later attested in rabbinic Judaism … It is hard to resist the conclusion that this material forms part of a counter-attack against anti-Christian polemic on the part of emergent normative Judaism».»1654

If the situation of the Johannine community in Asia models the same sort of conflict we find between later Palestinian rabbis and minim, we may expect the Fourth Gospel to treat issues relevant to such a conflict.

2. Theological Issues

Various kinds of minim existed, some perhaps early gnostics,1655 others (perhaps holding Sadducean views) who denied the resurrection or that it was taught by the Torah;1656 not all minim in rabbinic literature fit what we know of Jewish Christians.1657 But despite the objections of some scholars,1658 minim were quite often (although not always) Jewish1659 Christians.1660 The tradition that Roman officials arrested R. Eliezer on the charge of minuth1661 in the first half of the second century1662 does not easily lend itself to any other interpretation than that the minim were Christians of some sort.

Their divisive interest in atonement,1663 keeping Sunday as a holy day1664 (probably originally not to conflict with Sabbath observance),1665 and interest in the Messiah's coming1666 are among many features which support a Christian identity for many of the minim.

2A. Ecclesiology

One of the most basic conflicts between the rabbis and the minim concerned the identity of the people of God. No one questioned that the people of God would be saved;1667 the question was what constituted an individual member of that saved people.

The issue of who constituted the people of God in Pharisaic opinion is somewhat controversia1. Although the statement that the Pharisees claimed to be the true Israel1668 is at best worded anachronistically,1669 it is true that according to probably Pharisaic teaching, not all Israelites remained part of Israel in the world to come.1670 The question is, were the «exceptions» to Israel's salvation major or minor exceptions? They are mentioned in m. Sanh. 10as minor exceptions, but the rabbis may claim more of Israel as pious by their own standards than was actually the case. Thus one also gets the impression from rabbinic literature that rabbinic guidelines were followed in Palestinian synagogues, which is not entirely true even in the Amoraic period, as excavations attest. The rabbis may have overestimated the influence of their own following in their literature.

Some have proposed that the Pharisees and their successors excluded the am háaretz1671 from the realm of salvation. Rabbinic texts often looked down on the am haaretz,1672 and these people careless about Pharisaic standards perhaps communicated uncleanness1673 to scrupulous Pharisees.1674 On the other hand, they were tolerated by the rabbis1675 and were not viewed in a wholly negative light,1676 except in relation to the Law as it had come to be understood by the rabbis.1677 Jeremias» assertion that they were considered «sinners»1678 is difficult to demonstrate; what would need to be proved is that failing to tithe according to the standards of the Pharisaic fence around the Law was considered sinful (and more so than a variety of other common infringements), in a period when Pharisaic influence was still not settled as the dominant ideological force in Palestine.1679 If the am háaretz comprised the vast majority of Palestinian Jewry in the first century,1680 it would be difficult to assert that the Pharisees of this period excluded them from the covenant, viewing themselves as a true Israel which alone was destined for salvation, and the rest of Israel as «exceptions.»

Less problematic is the assertion that the Qumran community viewed salvation as limited to their own group. While not using the term, they saw themselves as a sort of true Israel1681 in the manner of the OT eschatological «remnant.»1682 In the OT this remnant produced the prophets who called Israel to repentance, and while Israel as a whole recognized God as a national deity, it was the «remnant» who maintained covenant with him.1683

Most clear, however, is the fact that Jewish Christians, who viewed themselves as deeply faithful to their Jewish heritage, were soon joined by Gentile Christians. The Gentiles and those Jewish Christians who embraced them together appropriated biblical titles for the people of God,1684 claiming to be the remnant and present embodiment of the eschatological people of God. John was not, of course, claiming that the church had «replaced» Jewish Israel;1685 he was claiming that it was Jewish and that it continued the faithful remnant of Israel that had always existed. The Jewish Christians still saw themselves as part of Judaism; their position may have been anti-Pharisaic, but not anti-Jewish.1686 This was not a claim of dis continuity with the church's Jewish heritage–a claim their opponents were making for them quite ably–but a claim to continuity.1687

By contrasting Jesus» Jewish disciples with «the Jews,»1688 John assures his readers of their identity and undermines that of their opponents,1689 perhaps trying to avert the threat of apostasy on the part of some of the Jewish disciples (6:60–71).1690 Ecclesiology is ultimately defined by Christology in the Fourth Gospel,1691 and it is thus onés relationship with Jesus that places her or him in right relationship with the covenant.

The conflict such a position might create within the synagogues may be mirrored in the rabbinic traditions of the next two centuries as well: that the identity of the people of God was a «hot issue» between the rabbis and the minim is clearly indicated there.1692 In one text a min argues, in a rabbinic-style exposition of a Hebrew text attributed to R. Gamaliel (probably II, of Yavneh), that Israel is apostate;1693 in another text a min "s denial of Israel's uniqueness is met with an Amorás charge that the min is not Jewish;1694 in some later texts, «the nations» (perhaps Gentile Christians) claim to be Israe1.1695 This argument seems to have attacked both parties where it hurt: their covenant relationship with God as his chosen people.

2B. Bibliology

A related issue is the Jewish Christian view of the Torah. The rabbis often portrayed the minim as having a low view of the Law:1696 their Law scrolls were invalid;1697 they were accused of holding only to the Ten Commandments1698 and holding a lower view of the Torah.1699 John, however, portrays Jesus fulfilling the Law and his enemies violating it.1700 The rabbis often polemicized against books of the minim, which were probably sometimes1701 Christian literature added to the OT, like (at least in later times) their own oral Torah.1702

Rabbis considered minim immoral,1703 worse than pagans,1704 as perhaps one would expect from those who allegedly rejected the Law. Minim were thus assuredly damned,1705 and in some late traditions, their circumcision, the sign of the covenant in their flesh, would be effaced at the judgment.1706

2C. Christology

A major point of division between the Jewish Christians and the synagogue authorities, of course, was the identity of the Messiah.1707 Differences concerning the nature of the Messiah were also bound to create conflict: if Jesus were God, to dishonor him would be to dishonor God (1 John 2:23);1708 conversely, if he were not, «the Jews» in John would be right: worshiping him1709 would be blasphemy.1710 The Fourth Gospel confronts the sort of tensions such a conflict would raise, perhaps both to support the Johannine community and to call for a commitment on the part of some outside who would yet hear the Gospel's message. There are suggestions in the text that John addresses not only believers facing conflict with their synogogue officials, but also purported «secret believers» in the synagogue (12:42–43), and that faithfulness to the Jesus form of Judaism is thought to be worth even the price of schism in those who claimed to be the people of God (7:43; 9:16; 10:19).

This does not mean, as some have argued,1711 that John's readers had a deficient Christology that simply mirrored Judaism.1712 Indeed, a cursory reading of 1 John would suggest that most of the community was able to withstand christological challenges. Instead, they may have been facing persecution because of their high Christology (Jesus as deity), and John may have thus been reaffirming their faith.1713 Minim who remained in the synagogue even at a much later period1714 need not have been Ebionite; although they were afraid to confess Christ openly, the rabbis assumed they would be reluctant to deny him.1715

The later Gentile church recognized the deity of Christ as a major area of conflict with Judaism.1716 In rabbinic literature, minim often argued for a plurality in the deity, sometimes as a ditheism.1717 John 5 also suggests that Jesus» deity had become a major issue of debate between the Johannine community and the synagogue.1718 As Alan Segal observes, «the characterization of the Jews in the FG, though tendentious and exaggerated, must be based on a real Jewish charge against Christians, for the position attributed to them corresponds to the position rabbis take against unnamed heretics in rabbinic literature.»1719 Although Jewish Christians were far from the only Jewish group these rabbis would have criticized as «ditheistic,»1720 they must have been included.1721 Thus the centrality of Christology in Jesus» debates with his opponents in the Fourth Gospel is not surprising.1722

2D. Pneumatology

The conflict between the Johannine and synagogue communities included competing theological claims and competing grounds for epistemological validation of those claims. Whereas the synagogue authorities, like the emerging rabbinic movement in Palestine, seem to have based their claims on interpretation of the Law and limited the scope of acceptable evidence to this area of their special competence, many of the early Christians apparently refused to allow the field of debate to be narrowed so as to exclude additional revelatory data.

For whereas the Palestinian Jewish authorities did not even claim to possess the Spirit,1723 the Christians claimed to possess the Spirit and thus eschatological validation that they spoke for God. Since most of Judaism believed that the Spirit of prophecy was no longer available in its OT fulness, but Jewish people recognized the OT teaching that the Spirit would be poured out in ultimate fulness in the messianic era, Christian possession of the Spirit marked them as the people of the end time.1724 In 1 John, the Spirit also distinguishes the true Christians from the false.1725

The Qumran sectarians may have used their claims to the presence of the Spirit in their community in the same way; in both early Christianity and the Qumran movement, the spirit of truth was the unique possession of the elect community.1726 If the consensus that the Qumran sectarians were Essenes is correct, it is significant that the Essenes considered themselves «seers»1727 (even if the Qumran texts themselves speak more of illumination than the sort of prophesying Josephus attributes to Essenes).

If John has the tendency to emphasize the Spirit as the present possession of the elect, the rabbinic movement exhibits an opposing tendency. The rabbinic view that prophecy and/or possession of the Spirit had ceased may well have been a polemic against the emphasis of the early Christians and, to a lesser extent, other pneumatic movements within Judaism that challenged the goal of rabbinic hegemony.1728 They may have posited the localization of the Spirit of prophecy in the land of Israel for the same sort of reason, that is, to challenge Christian claims that the Spirit had urged them to cross cultural and geographical boundaries.1729 By the time John wrote, the rabbis had probably already refused to accept the validity of new revelation, anchoring as much as possible in prior scholarly tradition; but the charismatic challenge of early Christianity apparently moved them to a further reaction.1730 As Bamberger puts it,

The rising Christian community claimed that it had been newly inspired by God, and it promulgated a revelation that was said to supplement, or even to supplant, «the old covenant.» In reaction, the rabbis insisted that the process of revelation was complete at Sinai. … Anti-Christian polemic accounts for the emphatic, almost violent expression of a viewpoint which in essence was not new.1731

Jewish leaders throughout the Mediterranean world had reason to be concerned about charismatic-prophetic movements within their fold. It is quite likely that prophetic and visionary apocalyptic revelations affected the messianic movements described in Josephus, many of which seem to have depended solely on God for intervention and vindication. It is also likely that the Zealots were informed by such ideals; Josephus laments the «false prophets» in the temple who kept urging the people to believe God for intervention, when in fact destruction was at hand.1732

After the revolts, Palestinian Judaism had great reason to wish to accommodate the Roman government,1733 and Diaspora Judaism, rooted in the communities in which it existed, had always been concerned for proper treatment.1734 Indeed, Judaism throughout the Roman world suffered as a consequence of the revolt of 66–70; the temple tax was now used to support a pagan temple, a humiliating reminder to Jewry worldwide of the folly of their nationalistic siblings in Palestine. Domitian further applied the tax to proselytes and uncircumcised «God-fearers,» discouraging Gentile participation in Judaism.1735 Christians, whose Asian constituency included a large element of uncircumcised Gentile converts, might be an embarrassment to the Jewish authorities. Given such circumstances, as Fiorenza notes, «the self-interest of Jewish communities in Asia Minor demanded that they get rid of any potential political «trouble-makers» and »messianic elements» in their midst,» including Christians.1736

John's portrayal of the violent reaction to the claim that Jesus was king of the Jews may suggest a time when some were reacting against such political claims,1737 and his probable linkage of prophetic and royal Christologies in his Gospel1738 may suggest the sort of atmosphere in which non-Christian Jewish leaders would have felt most threatened by Christian prophecy.

Ancient Near Eastern kings had long used political or military oracles to bolster their position or encourage their armies.1739 Greek rulers likewise used oracles to legitimate their rule.1740 Mithridates and others had used such oracles propagandistically when opposing Rome,1741 and Sibylline oracles, including Jewish Sibylline oracles, also had political ramifications: «The background against which the sibylline oracles should be studied is that of the political oracles of the Hellenistic world. Sibylline oracles usually carried a message related to politics. When a Jewish author decided to use this form of expression he called up the associations which political oracles carried with them in the Hellenistic world.»1742 As negatively as certain emperors–particularly the current one, Domitian–reacted to astrological predictions or implications of his demise, those prophesying his demise invited certain retribution if they came to his attention.1743 Given the frequency of travel to and from Rome, Asian Jews may have been aware of Domitiane distaste for Judaism to begin with.1744 They already had a major concession in that they were not required to worship the emperor;1745 but harboring a movement in which increasing numbers of Gentiles were seeking exemption from participation in the civic imperial cult, and which was charismatic, threatened the Jewish communities for which they as leaders felt responsible.

If, as we suspect, the Johannine communities were located in Asia Minor, it is significant that there were other Jewish charismatic movements that, together with the early Christian movement, threatened the stability of the Jewish communities in this region. (Oracular activity was strong in this region.)1746 Some of these Jewish communities, like the one in Sardis, were wealthy and established; but they, too, bore the reproach of the recent war in the redirected temple tax, and they would have been particularly sensitive to Jewish movements that would challenge their hard-earned prerogatives with civic and imperial authorities. On the other hand, some Jews, including many of the Jewish Christians, felt more alienated from the pagan culture surrounding them, and were ready to denounce it regardless of the consequences. Even in their anti-pagan stance, however, they mimicked the oracular style of pagan prophecy.

Some of the Jewish Sibylline Oracles seem to derive from Asia and to anticipate Gods judgment on the Roman Empire; yet the Sibylline Oracles from Asia as well as from Egypt reflect classical Greek hexameter and Greek oracular concepts (including the Sybil's inability to contain her mantic frenzy). The content was thoroughly hellenized Judaism; the form was unselfconsciously Greek. It is likely that some of the Sibyllists, however, also drifted into syncretism. It has been suggested that a Jewish Christian or converted pagan Sibylline figure may have supplied the prophetess nicknamed Jezebel in Thyatira, the spiritual «fornicator» (Rev 2:20–21) who may provide the figure that coalesced the opposing Jewish and Roman authorities later in the book (Rev 17:1–5; 18:3).1747 Colossians (2:15–23) and possibly Galatians1748 indicate the presence of a syncretistic, visionary (mystic and/or apocalyptic) Jewish Christianity, and probably a Hellenistic Jewish matrix in which it was formed. It is possible that, in addition to the Gospels primary response to synagogue leaders, it may also include a secondary response to earlier challenges from apocalyptics and mystics seeking divine visions through mystic ascents.1749

Whether the synagogue authorities had to contend with a higher level of syncretism in such ecstatics (the degree of syncretism in Asian Judaism probably varied from city to city anyway), or only with concern about political oracles, they had reason to be concerned about the Christians. The early Christian movement was more thoroughly charismatic-prophetic than any of its competitors in early Judaism or, for that matter, in regular associations of any known religious movements in antiquity.1750 Further, its prophecies certainly included a vocal challenge to the authority of Rome, a challenge that would soon spread among the Johannine communities, as aptly illustrated by the book of Revelation.

The reasons for the rejection of Jewish Christians in the synagogues of Asia Minor may well have corresponded to the reasons offered by rabbis who were influential and respected in Jewish Palestine. Jewish Christians» Christology may have seemed unorthodox, and their view that Christ was the only way of salvation (cf. esp. John 14:6) would have certainly branded them sectarian within the broader sphere of early Judaism. But until the late second century, extant rabbinic traditions appear more ambiguous about the particular doctrinal reasons for rejecting Christians, in contrast to the views specifically denounced with regard to other schismatics.1751 It is at least possible that the rabbis perceived in the charismatic nature of early Christianity a major threat to their hold over the affections of the people of the land, and this competition combined with the Christians» apparent doctrinal aberrations to bring them under suspicion.

It was not at all unnatural for participants in this conflict to find its origins in a similar conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees. Jesus» charismatic authority could not be controlled in the way that Pharisaic traditioning could be, and Jesus presented as much a challenge to the authority they vested in their tradition as did other charismatic teachers.1752

3. Unwelcome in the Synagogues

Early Christian literature is clear that Jewish believers continued in the synagogues well into the first century (Jas 2:2; Acts 22:19; 26:11). Many believers in Ephesus had left the synagogue community several decades earlier (Acts 19:8–9), but undoubtedly other sympathizers had risen within the synagogues; if the tension that created the original schism remained, another such schism would have been natural (probably more recent in some nearby cities, Rev 2:9; 3:8–9). Rabbinic texts suggest that even into the second century many Jewish Christians in Palestine sought to maintain their presence in the synagogues as part of their solidarity with Israe1.1753 The probably greater diversity in the Diaspora should therefore allow the same possibility there (hence Chrysostom's later concern with even Gentile Christians frequenting synagogues that, however, apparently welcomed them). In any case, the Fourth Gospel seems to address a milieu where at least secret believers are thought to continue in the synagogue (12:42).

The presence of Jewish Christians in the synagogues undoubtedly posed a problem for the rabbis at Yavneh who hoped to create a more normative halakic Judaism and desired more influence in the synagogues. It probably also posed problems for synagogue authorities in the Diaspora whose authority and beliefs would have been questioned by the sectarians, following the model of these Christians» Palestinian siblings. That this is a problem for at least one Johannine community is clear from Revelation 3:7–9, where the «synagogue of Satan,» falsely claiming to be «Jews,» have sought to expel the Johannine Christians from the people of God.1754

Since the 1970s Johannine scholars have often argued that the expulsion of Jewish Christians from the synagogues represents a primary part of the Gospels setting. Some remain skeptical that conflict with the synagogues is a major issue in the Gospel because it is missing in the Epistles;1755 but the Epistles may address other situations in the Asian churches, whereas conflict with the synagogues is surely implied in two of the communities in Rev 2and 3:9. While conflict at least is central, the question of expulsion from the synagogues is a more vulnerable part of the traditional thesis. Thus others object that biblical evidence for exclusion from the temple might not apply right after 70 and that the clear Qumran evidence for expulsion from the community (cf. 1QS 6.24–7.25) is sectarian.1756 But while the objection is true, by what method of historiography can we exclude the biblical, Qumran, and rabbinic data, which incidentally accord with the claims of this Gospel (9:22; 12:42; 16:2), then extrapolate a case to the contrary from the silence which remains? If we applied this method elsewhere, we would lack evidence for virtually any claim about first-century Jewish Palestine not treated by Josephus. Whether or not such an expulsion occurred, it does not seem tenable to argue that it cannot have occurred.1757 Ezra 10:8, which is clearly pre-70, refers to exclusion from the community. Other societies also used banishments of various durations (e.g., Cornelius Nepos 3 [Aristides], 1.5), and Diaspora synagogues seem to have functioned as the community centers through which local Jewish communities would have acted.1758

Rabbinic literature attests that various degrees of excommunication developed in time,1759 but many scholars have suggested that in the rabbinic controversy with the minim, a full herem–a cutting off from Israel–was employed.1760 Certainly exclusion from the community appears as a discipline in the Dead Sea Scrolls; see various levels of discipline in 1QS 6.24–7.25, including permanent exclusion (cf. also 4Q265 1 1–2; 4Q266 18 4–5; 4Q284a). The conjunction of synagogue expulsion and (illegal or representative) execution in John 16suggests that the nature of the expulsion experienced by the community or anticipated by the writer was severe.

But while an expulsion is possible, it was not likely a wholesale «excommunication» of believers in Jesus; excommunications normally focused on individuals, and no central authority could mandate all local synagogues to implement it in any case. Other means could be employed, however, to make purveyors of deviant ideologies sufficiently unwelcome. If Jewish Christians» insistence that Jesus was deity and the only way (cf. 14:6), perhaps coupled with eschatological and/or pneumatic enthusiasm, had become irritating enough, it takes little imagination to suppose that those responsible for order and unity in synagogues might see them as a threat. Hostile rhetoric from the bema could further shape public Jewish opinion, thereby making Jewish Christians marginal not only in synagogue services on holy days but also in the social networks of the synagogue communities.

Still, in John some form of exclusion urged by the authorities seems to have at least begun,1761 since the Gospel directly addresses the issue (9:34; 12:42; 16:2; cf. 2:15), and the writer draws an explicit connection «between what Jesus suffered and what his disciples will suffer (15.18–21 ).»1762 Some scholars argue, probably correctly, that Jesus» warning in 16stems from authentic Jesus tradition also reflected in Luke 6:22;1763 but the recurrence of the matter in the Fourth Gospel at key points (9:22; 12:42; 16:2) suggests that John has a reason to emphasize it. But if the disciples were not made unwelcome by a formal, person-by-person excommunication, how might it have occurred?

Many scholars have contended that the repudiation of the Jewish Christians was effected or aided by the Birkath Ha-minim,1764 a curse against the heretics reportedly added by Yavneh to the Shemoneh Esreh, a prayer that eventually came to be used in synagogues throughout the ancient world.1765 Yet despite the adequate antiquity of the basic substance of the Shemoneh Esreh, or Eighteen Benedictions, also known as the Amida,1766 the evidence for a unified prayer liturgy throughout the synagogues is disputed; it is not clear that it existed in the Diaspora (or even Judea) by the end of the first century.1767 First-century local leaders in Galilee could call a special public fast day (Josephus Life 290), and people would engage in their prayers (Life 295) in the house of prayer (Life 293). It is likely that they prayed aloud,1768 but it is not clear whether those present recited their prayers in unison.1769

Insofar as the extant traditions are trustworthy, the malediction is probably early enough to reflect the tension between Jewish Christians and synagogue leaders who moved in the same circle of opinion as Yavneh.1770 R. Levi in the early third century reportedly attributes the Birkath Ha-minim to the Yavneh period,1771 and «our rabbis» attribute it to the time of Samuel ha-Katon and Rabban Gamaliel II.1772 If Herford's linking of Samuel the Small1773 with the older Ishmael is correct,1774 this malediction may well have found its way into the Palestinian Amida a decade before the writing of the Fourth Gospe1.1775 Thus even if not recited in all the synagogues, it may reflect the sort of tension that was known to exist more widely;1776 many Diaspora synagogues, after all, had experienced divisive relations with early Jewish Christian missionaries they had allowed to speak there (cf. Acts 13:44–50; 14:2–4, 19; 18:6–8, 12–13; 19:8–9).

Jewish Christians seem to have understood the malediction as aimed at them: Justin, a Gentile Christian raised in Palestine, half a century after the Gospel seems to take this same1777 curse as specifically anti-Christian.1778 Such a curse would not have constituted a formal excommunication,1779 but it could have achieved the same purpose by motivating those who perceived themselves to be its objects to withdraw from a synagogue where they were not welcome.1780 If Jewish Christians in Judean or Galilean synagogues felt threatened, word would spread quickly and informally to other Jewish Christian communities in the eastern Mediterranean, whose commonly apocalyptic worldview would likely have further exacerbated the sense of threat.

Peter Schäfer suggests that the primary point of the malediction is deliverance from political oppression; while it would also have terminated the unpopular schismatics» participation in the divine service, this was not its primary goa1.1781 But its title suggests a different emphasis, a secondary emphasis would have been an emphasis nonetheless, and even had its framers intended no harm against the sectarians (which is unlikely), the sectarians would not have heard it this way.1782 Van der Horst doubts that it was meant to expel Christians even as late as the time of Jerome; its purpose was to unite Judaism against those who threatened its unity.1783 But Rodney Whitacre correctly observes that the curse could have led to the exclusion of Jewish Christians in the synagogues regardless of its «primary» purpose.1784 It is also possible that this was not the only part of the Amida reflecting polemic against a group or groups.1785

Some have argued that the minim cursed may not be Jewish Christians. Evidence for the opposition to those specifically called the Nozrim, «Nazarenes,» which would specify Jewish Christians,1786 is not clear in the late first century,1787 although arguments have been raised for its inclusion.1788 Despite this objection, two factors suggest that, if they are not the only object of the curse (which is indeed probable, given the original use of the broader term minim),1789 they are at least in view enough to be affected.1790 First, the term minim may not be limited to Jewish Christians, but as noted above, it probably addresses them more than anyone else. Even if the curse is directed toward all divisive sectarians in general–which is surely possible–the Jewish Christians are included. Second, the intrinsic probabilities of agitation appear greater with the Jewish Christians than with other sectarians in the late first century because of their numbers.1791 No other sect had sufficient impact on Palestinian Judaism in this period, as far as we can tell, to present such an urgent issue. (One might compare Lukes claim in Acts 21for μυριάδες of Jewish Christians in the area around Jerusalem with Josephus's estimate of 6000 Pharisees in Palestine, and Acts 4with estimates of Jerusalems population.1792 Regardless of the estimate of historical value one assigns to Acts, the writer is not likely to have created figures so implausible to his contemporaries that his audience would have immediately assumed them fancifu1.)

Most likely the sages at Yavneh could at most influence how other Jews applied the already-existing blessings, but their probable elite social status in Judea could have increased their hearing even in the Diaspora.1793 The curse, probably initiated in the latter part of the first century, was certainly perceived in a negative light by any who recognized that they were sectarians by the synagogue officials» definition.

Although we have no extant evidence for how synagogue officials in Asia handled sectarians, the model provided by the Yavneh leaders may be instructive. Even at such a great distance from Yavneh in Palestine, the repercussions of what may have constituted a change in Judean synagogue liturgy may have been felt.1794 It must be frankly acknowledged, of course, that even if a unified liturgy existed the same changes in the liturgy would not have been introduced everywhere,1795 and it is probable that most of the synagogues of the Diaspora did not adhere to a Judean liturgy which later became standard. Yet contacts with Palestine,1796 and the privileged place the Palestinian academy had in the hopes of much of the Palestinian Judaism that knew them (as the most prominent centralized leadership), would render some degree of influence possible.1797 Yavneh rabbis reportedly traveled even to Rome,1798 and thus could gain a widespread forum for their views. Probably as a theoretical exercise, Palestinian rabbis decreed whether laws were valid for Palestine only or also for the Diaspora, and assumed their halakic authority over the Diaspora;1799 by the beginning of the third century they also sent authoritative messengers to try to enforce some decrees.1800 Some Palestinian encyclicals may have been accepted out side Palestine long before the second century C.E. (cf. 2Macc 1:18; Acts 9:1),1801 but these were originally from the temple hierarchy.1802

We regard it as probable that the Birkath Ha-minim occurred before the Fourth Gospel was written and very probable that the Jewish Christians already perceived it as being directed partlly or wholly against themselves. But while Martyn is convinced that it is the main catalyst for the expulsion from the synagogues faced by the Johannine community,1803 we can accept this as at the most possible, and on the whole improbable. As Setzer summarizes the conclusion of her analysis, «I recognize the use of a blessing against Minim in the late first century that in some places included Christians. But I question a link between this blessing and the expulsion of Christians from the synagogue portrayed by the Johannine author.»1804 Setzer and others are correct; the connection between the expulsion in the Gospel and the curse is less than clear.

We would be far more secure, however, in supposing that it reflects tensions between Yavneh and Jewish Christians in Palestine.1805 Certainly conflict between Jewish Christians and Judean members of elite families arose long before the malediction and long before the assembling of leaders in Yavneh.1806 That the Birkath Ha-minim reflects such tensions, however, adequately illustrates the basic point. Whether or not many Asian synagogues would follow suit with Yavneh, Revelation shows that at least several had, and the Birkath at the very least thus illustrates the tension in Jewish-Christian relations in some regions in the final decade of the first century.

There is no specific connection between this curse and the text of the Fourth Gospel, although one could find it in 7or 9if one were looking for it. The issue of exclusion from the people of God could have been raised «officially» or «nonofficially,» locally1807 or throughout the Mediterranean world. Either way, we have seen that serious conflicts were taking place between Christian and non-Christian Jews in this period,1808 and this is reflected in the text of the Fourth Gospe1. It is not hard to understand that the Johannine community was very troubled by being cut off from the Synagogue and thus symbolically from the institutions of its people.1809

Although this kind of persecution was not a death sentence in itself, it could easily have been perceived thus by Christians whose Jewishness might be placed in public question. If they no longer belonged to the fold of ancient, ethnic Judaism, both the public and, if accusers were involved, provincial administrators in Asia would be less tolerant of their non-participation in civic religion, including the worship of the emperor.1810 Although Jewish Christians remained side-by-side with Jewish non-Christians to a much later date (well into the Byzantine period) even in Palestine,1811 tensions among the theologians of both groups did have some practical consequences toward the late first and early second century.

4. Johns Purpose in This Setting

Although some have used the summary statement of John 20to suggest that John's purpose is to evangelize unbelievers,1812 it is unlikely that John expected many non-Christian Jews to read his work, which is not worded toward their popular leaders in the most irenic manner (contrast perhaps Acts 3:17; 13:27). The different levels of belief in John suggest that the passage instead is meant to confirm believers in their faith, that they would «continue» in Jesus» message and thus be his disciples «indeed» (see 8:31–32).1813 As we have been arguing, it is likely that John addresses especially believers in Jesus, many of whom are Jewish. (See further comment on 20:31.)

Given the life-setting we have postulated above, following the lead of many other scholars, it is not difficult to suppose that John's readers needed strong confirmation. They needed special assurance that they remained faithful to their ancestral or adopted Jewish faith, regardless of the charges that others raised against them. John thus reinforces their picture of Christianity as the true form of Judaism, and Jesus» followers as true heirs of the covenant promises of Israel–a teaching that should be understood as a remnant theology, as in the Dead Sea Scrolls, in the context of a late first-century conflict, rather than in light of the use to which many Christians have put this theology in subsequent centuries. John's generally negative use of the term «Jews» for Jesus» opposition in the Fourth Gospel could challenge this interpretation, but, if read in view of John's whole Gospel, may instead confirm it. To this discussion we now turn.

«The Jews» and Johannine Irony

Scholars have long debated whether it is appropriate to call John anti-Jewish. The answer to the question depends largely on whether the document's polemic is intra-Jewish or from Gentiles condemning Judaism. Some regard John's portrayal of «the Jews» as anti-Jewish, the foundation for medieval and modern Christian anti-Semitism,1814 and it is true that Nazi propaganda1815 and anti-Semitic tracts in general1816 have made abundant use of the Fourth Gospe1. This abuse of the Fourth Gospel stems in no small measure from its generally negative portrayal of the group called «the Jews,» as Jesus» opponents or those too dense to understand him.1817 Some limit the anti-Judaic element to a later stratum of the Gospel's redaction, arguing that the earliest layer is Jewish and testifies to the character of first-century Judaism.1818 We would argue, with many others, that the anti-Judaic approach actually derives from reading the Gospel in a very different framework from that for which it was composed.

Schottroff argues, probably rightly (at least on the first part and possibly, if ethnic Jews are in view, both), that John's community continued to consider itself Jewish and practice circumcision; it was only after 135, when Gentile Christians regarded Jewish Christians as an insignificant sect and could read the Gospel in a context very different from the one in which it had been authored, that the Gospel's hostile rhetoric actually became «anti-Jewish.»1819 As Davies and Allison note in commenting on Matthew,

Modern scholars sometimes leave the impression that a Jewish believer in Jesus could leave Judaism as easily as a person can today leave, let us say, the Methodist Church for the Episcopalian. … But.… To leave Judaism meant… to move from one society to another: it involved the painful severing not only of family and cultic ties but being cut off from the whole life of a community upon which one was socially and economically dependent.

Thus they conclude that «Matthew's community was still a deviant Jewish association.»1820 Because most Diaspora Jewish communities lived in their own ethnic sections in cities, the social dislocation of such severence would be great despite examples of a few prominent apostates.

One need survey only some of the virulent anti-Judaism of John's Gentile contemporaries (e.g., claims recorded in Josephus Ag. Ap. 2.145: Moses was a deceiver and Jewish laws promoted immorality) to suspect that John, still writing before Christianity had become a largely Gentile and increasingly powerful religion, speaks from within rather than outside a Jewish framework. Even Roman patrons supporting Jewish claims might warn against their spreading the plague of their practices outside their own communities (P.Lond. 1912.98–100).

Criticisms of onés own people were not necessarily repudiations of onés people; they could be intended as reproofs to bring onés people back to the right way.1821 Thus, for example, the Qumran Scrolls, reacting to persecution at the hands of the Jerusalem high priesthood, denounce the high priesthood in scathing terms and regard the rest of Judaism, outside the righteous remnant they themselves represent, as the «community of Belia1.»1822 Intra-Jewish conflicts are reported to have become violent at times.1823 Thus a large body of scholars today rightly argues that John is no more anti- Jewish than Qumran is, and that the hostility of his polemic is intra-Jewish polemic due to the life-setting we have outlined above. Pointing this out can help alleviate abuse of the text for anti-Semitic purposes.1824 Nevertheless, the picture of «the Jews» in the Fourth Gospel is too strong for us to simply dismiss it as merely internal polemic without further explanation. That reading of the Gospel should have made sense within John s specific setting but, once removed to a Gentile Christian environment, would have immediately seemed an implausible reading. It is thus understandable that many Jewish readers, conditioned by the church's historic abuse of the Gospel, hear the text as anti-Jewish.1825

1. Negative Uses of «the Jews»

Ancient Mediterranean literature was far more sophisticated than many modern readers assume. Despite exceptions like the first-century historian Lucan (C.W. passim), most ancient biographies included both «flat» and «round» characters;1826 as did histories. By reporting fears and motives on both sides of an conflict, often sympathetically, the writer could increase suspense and praise for the victor, while augmenting tragic pathos in the impending defeat of noble characters on the other side (e.g., the Albans in Dionysius of Halicarnassus R.A. 3).1827 Indeed, Lucian criticizes historians who praise their own leaders while slandering the other side as engaging merely in panegyric (History 7).1828 A historian who focuses on what is negative about a character can be accused of malice, unless this is necessary for the telling of the story (Plutarch Malice of Herodotus 3, Mor. 855C). Some characters are wholly good or evil, but most are more believable.1829 Similarly, in fictitious epic poetry, one could allow some tragic tension through a partly good character like Amphinomus (Homer Od. 18.119–156, 412–421), though as one of the suitors he remained basically bad and destined for death (18.155–156). Aristotle advised that characterization was important for the plot (Poet. 15, 1454a), that characters should be appropriate (Poet. 15.4) and match traditions known about them (Poet. 15.5). He also advised consistency of the character throughout the presentation, but this need not require flat characters, for some characters were known to be inconsistent, so one must simply consistently portray the characters inconsistency (15.6).

John's characters, however, are sometimes flatter, theological representatives of the realm «above» (especially Jesus) or of «the world.» «The Jews» in the Fourth Gospel are often a flat composite character, representing the evil attitudes of the world.1830 At the same time, the matter should not be overstated.1831 John normally has no more than two or three speaking characters in a scene, following the staging rules of Greek drama, and this necessitates composite characters functioning as a chorus.1832 Nevertheless, Greek drama sometimes divided its choruses for various responses, and John employs the same liberty. The Jewish people at the feasts were usually divided in their responses to Jesus (7:12, 26, 31, 41, 43; 10:19–21 ),1833 and even the Judean elite proved divided (9:16; 12:42–43). Further, John shifts the responsibility for Jesus» final rejection in the Gospel from the crowds (as in the traditional passion narrative) to the Judean elite (19:6). John appears to believe that his people would have been more open to considering Jesus» claims but were hindered by a small but vocal portion of the Judean elite. John's hostility is not toward Judaism as a whole. Yet in this light some of his uses of the term «Jews"–sometimes contrasted with the Jewish crowds (7:12–13)–appears all the more abrupt. (John sometimes does employ abruptness to draw attention to his language, e.g., 3:2–3.)

John's portrayal of «the Jews» is usually hostile, as the following tabulation shows:

Negative: 1:19; 2:18, 20; 3:25; 5:10, 15, 16, 18; 6:41,52; 7:1, 11, 12, 15, 35; 8:22, 48, 52, 57; 9:18, 22; 10:19,24,31,33; 11:8, (46), 54,55; (18:12,14: rulers); 18:31,36,38; 19:7,12,14,21,38; 20:19

Positive: 4(for readers), 22; 11:45; 12:9,11 (cf. 12:19–20)

Feasts: 2:13; 5:1; 6:4; 7:2; 11:55

King: 18:33, 39; 19:3, 19

Other customs:1834 2:6; 18:20; 19:31,40, 42

The problem is not the unqualified use of the title «Jews»; John's fellow Jews could employ this title with neutral significance,1835 could call themselves «Israel» but when dealing with foreigners call themselves «Jews» («Judeans»),1836 or could apply it to Jewish opponents without in any way detracting from their own Jewishness.1837 (The term had various uses; some inscriptions employ it geographically, as some have suggested for this Gospel; more employ it ethnically or religiously, sometimes including Gentile adherents.)1838 The problem is that John employs the negative use of the term so frequently.

It is clear that the negative use of the term «Jews» predominates in the Fourth Gospel, with second place going to «neutral» uses. More ambiguous cases not listed above do not improve this general picture. Although «ruler of the Jews» may not appear negative in 3:1, it becomes associated with a less than positive character in the following context (19:39, which treats him positively, drops the epithet), as do the «Jews» of 8whose faith in Jesus proves quite transitory. The essentially positive uses in 11:19, 31, 33 and 36 remain theologically neutral; the possibly neutral 13alludes back to the negative context of 7:34; and 19is basically negative.1839 As Robert Fortna points out, «while John's use of Judea and the Jews is not wholly negative, it is rarely unambiguously positive.»1840 Some writers even mingled a small amount of mild praise into stinging criticisms simply to make the latter sound more plausible (Plutarch Malice of Herodotus 8–9, Mor. 856CD), although that is probably not the intent of the few positive statements here (which apply to Jesus).

It has been suggested that Johannine Christians may be ethnically Jewish yet reject the title «Jews» just as the Samaritans did, in response to their opposition.1841 Such a proposal is possible, but it is not at all clear that the Johannine Christians would reject the label «Jew» under all circumstances. If the Gospel does not call Jesus» disciples «the Jews» (and not only because they are Galileans), they are certainly not Gentiles either (cf. 12:20–21). John's theology of incarnation includes Jesus» particularity as a «Jew» (4:9) from Nazareth (1:45) and not only his being bread from heaven.1842 But what seems most significant is that Jesus is called a Jew only by non-Jews–the Samaritan woman (4:9) and Pilate (18:35)–as if «his own» would not own up to him (1:11).1843 The fact that Jesus accepts the designation «Jew» for himself, and that it is never offered by his Jewish opponents, could suggest that it is these opponents» own perspective that is implied in the Fourth Gospel's usual use of the term.

I am suggesting here that John employs the term «Jews» ironically, as a response to his opponents» functional claims that the Johannine Christians are no longer Jewish.1844 By «functional claims» I do not imply that John's opponents denied Jewish Christians» Jewish ethnicity or even regarded them as a separate religion.1845 Such a development may have stemmed from a later period when the large numbers of Gentile Christians insensitive to their faith's Jewish roots, and Jewish Christians» refusal to participate in the Bar Kokhba revolt, created a backlash against the Jewish Christians.1846 But when Yavneh and other leaders closed ranks, defining less cooperative groups as sectarian, they would have made them feel unwelcome in their circles and in synagogues persuaded by their polemic. This «unwelcoming» served to isolate Jewish Christians from the centers of their own communities, which might be especially problematic if it occurred in Diaspora communities, where the «prayer house» was the most visible symbol of local Jewish unity. The Jewish Christians, already sectarian in the sense that they felt they represented the true voice of biblical Judaism, appear to have responded by defining «Jewishness» quite differently from their opponents.

To picture an analogous situation today, one might envision a group of Christians who considered themselves orthodox heirs of salvific truth, but found themselves maligned by a broader community claiming to represent normative Christianity. The minority might respond by calling themselves «true Christians» to distinguish themselves from the «false» ones (compare Rev 2:9; 3:9);1847 or, more to the point here, they might relinquish the title altogether to their opponents, and reserve a special title for themselves. This second solution appears to be the one chosen by the author of the Fourth Gospe1.

2. Previous Discussions of John's «Jews»

The puzzle of John's usage of «the Jews» has provoked a variety of solutions, some more plausible than others. The least commendable suggestion is that over a dozen passages in the Fourth Gospel be excised on doctrinal grounds, without any textual evidence.1848 This reflects more an epistemology of theological convenience than one compatible with historical-critical methodology.

Others have argued that John's use of «the Jews» suggests that his audience was predominantly Gentile.1849 If this were the case, it would certainly compound the suspicions that this Gospel is anti-Semitic,1850 given the prevalence of anti-Jewish sentiments already in the Greco-Roman world.1851 Yet the rhetoric of John is more like intra-Jewish polemic (as in the Dead Sea Scrolls)1852 than like that of Gentile anti-Semites such as Apion or Manetho.1853 Another writer, conversely, suggests that John, far from being anti-Semitic, is calling on Gentile readers, new Christians, to recognize that the whole drama in which early Christianity was originally acted out was Jewish;1854 but this fails to explain why Jesus» opponents, yet not his disciples, receive the title. Both suggestions may be challenged because of the audience they assume; as argued above, if we suppose that the many definitively Jewish elements of the Fourth Gospel would have been intelligible to its intended audience, then at least a sizeable portion of the Johannine community was Jewish.1855

Some have proposed that the Johannine function of «the Jews» could be applied to the sinful people of God or groups resistant to the gospel in any generation.1856 While this may be true, it does not explain why John in his own historical context used this term rather than one with greater specificity, like «Pharisees» (which he also uses, but less frequently), or some form of «official Judean opposition.» The same problem confronts the suggestion that John is merely attacking Jewish separatism in some of his readers.1857

Many scholars have rightly noted that, on a literary level, «the Jews» function as illustrations of the Johannine concept of «the world,» rather than as a specific ethnic entity.1858 Gentiles could not have fulfilled this function during Jesus» earthly ministry, and so «Jews» must fill the role. But this does not explain why the term is nearly always used for those who oppose Jesus, «the world,» and hardly ever for those who follow him. As Sandmel observes, even if «the Jews» represent only «the world» for John, it must be asked why they represent the world so wel1.1859 Then again, intra-Jewish conflict may represent fellow Jews more harshly precisely because faith and obedience are expected among those who are already God's people (4:22; cf. 1QM passim); analogously, others who had been theological kin can epitomize for 1 John the spirit of antichrist (1 John 2:18–19).

«The Jews» in John normally, though not always, implies «Judeans.»1860 This usage may have some parallels in other early Christian literature, for instance, in Acts 28:21.1861 The meaning «Jerusalemites»1862 or (even more often) «Judeans»1863 would usually not be far from the mark in this Gospe1. But Fortna may be correct in arguing that «John's point is not that the Jews are representative of Judea, thought of in a concrete geographical way, but rather that Judea is the place of "the Jews» and symbolizes the mentality, the response to God's truth, which they represent.… It is finally not Judea but the Jews who stand for negative human response.»1864 It remains quite likely, of course, that regional considerations did influence the choice of Judea over Galilee for the dubious distinction of this negative role (see our next section), but the several exceptions to the meaning «Judeans» (6:41, 52; but 4is supported by 4:44) suggest that John was aware of other associations of the term which his readers might naturally infer as wel1.1865

The term is mostly, although again not always, used for the authorities headquartered in Jerusalem.1866 They are the center of Judean opposition to Jesus, and naturally become the spiritual predecessors of the opposition the Johannine community faces in John's own day.1867 In this case, «Judea» embodies these authorities and those who follow them. Some ancient writers were fond of synecdoche, the use of a part to represent the whole or vice-versa.1868 But as noted above, John sometimes applied the broad term «Jews» to non-Judeans as well, portraying them negatively. «His own» as a whole did not receive him (1:11), reflecting genuine historical tradition about early conflict.1869 This does not mean that all Jewish people rejected him (any more than 1means that all Gentiles did), but reflects the disappointment that merely a remnant (1:12) rather than the whole nation turned to Christ (cf. Rom 11vs. 11:26). John lays the responsibility for this rejection especially on the elite.

Most readings of the Fourth Gospel allow that its polemic against «the Jews» represents the situation of John's community, threatened by real opponents, rather than a racial attack.1870 Since in Johns day the leaders of the most powerful competing Jewish sect challenged the orthodoxy of the Johannine Christians, John sees the adherents of this opposing movement as the spiritual heirs of Jesus» persecutors. The primary issue is not ethnic (both persecutor and persecuted are Jewish) but power: a minority feels repressed and believes that their Lord was unjustly executed, and their cause unjustly rejected, by the Judean elite. (This repressed-minority status would place them in a situation analogous, e.g., to the much longer period in which European Jews were often repressed by medieval Christians despite their shared monotheism.) But while this may explain who the Johannine Jews are, it still does not explain why they are called, «the Jews.»

At this point there seem to be two ways to read John. The first would propose that his community has rejected, or John is urging them to reject, links with their Jewish heritage. This could appropriately explain his characterization of «the Jews» as opponents of the Jesus movement for his own period. The other way to read John would be to argue that John writes as a Jew to his fellow Jews, as a prophetic witness within Israe1. In this case, his polemic could be part of his Jewishness, because he defines relationship to Israel's God by onés relationship to Jesus the Christ.1871 John A. T. Robinson's observations remain appropriate here: «Moreover, so far from being anti-Semitic, that is, racially anti-Jewish, it is, I believe, in the words of J. B. Lightfoot's magisterial but far too little known lectures on St John, "the most Hebraic book in the New Testament, except perhaps the Apocalypse.» If Judaism is condemned, it is always from within and not from without.»1872

Most of the Gospel, including the portrayal of Jesus» followers as «true Israelites» (1:31,47,49), could support the second way of reading John.1873 The problem, is that by itself this view cannot explain why the religious authorities retain the title while the Johannine Christians» identity is defined in other ways (albeit ways compatible with earlier biblical imagery for God's covenant people).

If John wishes to preserve not only a Jewish heritage for his church but also a continuity with the people of God before Jesus, he could use the term «Jews» to apply to Jesus» opponents only ironically.1874 Meanwhile his narrative subverts their claims to covenant faithfulness, in a sense reversing their charges against the Jewish Christians.1875 M. C. De Boer is undoubtedly correct to suggest, independently of my own arguments,1876 that John calls the Judean authorities «Jews» «in an ironic acknowledgement of their claim to be the authoritative arbiters of Jewish identity.»1877

To understand why he would use «Jews» ironically, we must examine related uses of irony in this Gospel, the relationship of Jesus» disciples to Judaism, and the particular Sitz im Leben of the Johannine community.

3. Related Uses of Irony in the Fourth Gospel

Literary critics have regularly noted John's prominent use of irony.1878 This Gospel's irony would not have escaped the ancient readers; irony was a common rhetorical and literary device in Greco-Roman literature.1879 One Hellenistic rhetorical handbook defines irony (ειρωνεία) as, in part, calling something by the opposite of its usual name (Rhet. Alex. 21.1434a.l7–19, 27–29); this definition certainly fits the inversion of the use of the title «Jews» for which we argue in John.1880 Paul Dukés thorough work on Johannine irony defines irony as bearing at least two levels of meaning, the two being opposed and there being a play on some apparent or genuine lack of understanding.1881 Duke comments:

The Johannine Jesus is a different sort of ironist than we meet in the other Gospels. He is more Socratic, more the interrogator bemused at the foolishness before him and seeking to expose it. While the Synoptic Jesus is not without humor, his irony is spoken with fire in his eyes. The heavenly revealer of lohn's Gospel speaks irony too, but his eyebrows are raised, and there is the trace of a smile on his lips.1882

The riddles of sages and the fiery irony of biblical prophets fit the Jesus of history. John may have employed a widespread Mediterranean literary device to plumb more deeply the irony of the incarnation and cross (cf. 1Cor 1:21–25). Respected religious leaders were frequently his chosen targets.1883

Johns use of double entendres, clear to the informed reader but missed by Jesus» continually dense opponents, reflects a broader pattern of polemical irony in the Fourth Gospe1.1884 In John, Jesus» opponents repeatedly make ironic self-indictments and glaring errors in understanding Jesus» words. This is first of all evident in regard to Jesus» origin (8:14). On the one hand, «the Jews» assume that they know his origin (6:42): Jesus is not from Bethlehem (7:42), and his alleged Galilean origin is hence nonmessianic (7:41; cf. 1:46).1885 On the other hand, «the Jerusalemites» (7:27) and «the Pharisees» (9:29) admit that they do not know his origin.1886 Jesus replies that in one sense they really do know: he is from God, and they misconstrue this only because they do not know God (7:28). They cannot know Jesus» real place of origin, that is, from above, because they do not know the Father (8:19).

They are also inconsistent in their accusations against Jesus. Jesus, whom the reader knows to be really God's Son, is not permitted to say that he is (5:18; 10:36), but his opponents claim the title (with an admittedly different significance) for themselves (8:41). Likewise, the leaders want Jesus crucified so that the Romans will not take away their place and nation (11:48). But unless J. A. T. Robinson's early dating of John is correct, the original reader would have known that the Romans did in fact take away these leaders» place and nation, either in spite of or because of Jesus» crucifixion.1887 Further, Pilate acknowledges Jesus as the Jewish king, but the Jewish leaders deny it. Indeed, they acknowledge no king but Caesar (19:15; contrast the language of 8:41),1888 although this acknowledgement may be meant to remind the Johannine community of the claims of the imperial cult.

Those who claim to interpret the Law properly repeatedly appear obtuse in their interpretation. Nicodemus, for instance, though a teacher of Israel, misunderstands Jesus (3:1–21), thereby comparing unfavorably with the Samaritan woman in the next chapter (4:7–42). The fact that he later appears to be paradigmatic for first the secret (7:48–51; cf. 12:42–43) and then the open (19:39) believer does not reduce the harshness of this first portraya1.

In ch. 6, those whom Jesus will engage in midrashic discussion similarly misunderstand him. He tells them what to work for (6:27) and how to work for it (6:28–29: believe).

But they fail to do what he requires, and having just seen a sign, they demand another one before they will believe (6:30; cf. 20:8, 29). They want him to do another work (6:30), because they want, not a sign pointing to the truth, but more earthly food (6:26,31), perhaps corresponding to their earthly Christology (6:15). They fail to see where the signs point.

More significantly, they often indict themselves on their own ignorance of the Law. They argue that Jesus is wrong because none of the rulers or Pharisees believes in him (7:48), but their argument works against them in the narrative, since the reader knows that their view is mistaken for both groups (3:1; 7:50; later 12:41). And in light of 5(and perhaps 7with 2 Kgs 14:25), the Pharisees pronounce a curse on themselves in 7:49. They are right that one who does not keep Gods Law is not from God (9:16); but the reader, guided by the normative perspective of 7:19, 8and 8:55, sees this as an indictment of those who declare it, rather than of Jesus. Jesus» opponents are unable to discern who really belongs to the people of God (9vs. 9:3).

The Law in the Fourth Gospel consistently favors Jesus. It bears witness to him (1:45), yet his opponents use it to crucify him (19:7) because they have misunderstood his explanations of his sonship, thinking that he made himself the Son of God (5:19–30; 10:34–36). Indeed, he himself is the Word made flesh, revealing God's covenant character without Moses» veil; thus he is a fuller expression of that Law than even the written Law (1:14–18).1889 His opponents» obedience to the Law is only in ritual matters (18:28; 19:31), and thus ritual purification is repeatedly contrasted with the life of the Spirit in John's water motif, either by substitution or by supplementation.1890 Jesus» opponents further violate the Law when they call Jesus a «sinner» (9:24) without sufficient proof (8:46; and Jesus» appeals to his Father's witness have gone unanswered), for the Law forbids this sort of judgment (7:51). But while they suppose that Moses is their witness (9:28–29), he will ultimately testify against them (5:45; cf. 3:14; 6:32).1891

Yet, despite their clear opposition to the Law in practice, we read that the Law is their Law (7:51; 8:17; 10:34; 15:25; cf. 19:7; Pilate in 18:31). This claim may concede that it belongs to them in some sense, but the claim is ironic insofar as its supposedly obvious meaning is actually undermined by its usage in this Gospe1. As WTiitacre notes, «… this reference to «your law» should not be interpreted as disparaging the Law, but rather as disparaging the Jewish opponents» use of it. Abraham is referred to as »your father Abraham» (8:56), though obviously no disparagement of Abraham is intended (cf. 8:39–40), but rather of their appeal to him.»1892 The Law is thus called «their Law» precisely because, in a functional sense, it is not their Law! This is just the sort of irony that may be found in John's use of the term «the Jews.»

If John and Revelation represent the same community, then Revelation 2and 3may represent an analogous response to a similar situation.1893 Some enemies of John's Jesus movement in Smyrna and Philadelphia are claiming to be Jews, but are apparently rejecting that claim for the Jewish Christians in these churches.1894 The writer of Revelation denies these opponents» claim to the title. Denying their right to call themselves «Jews,» and surrendering the title to them ironically, as John did with «their Law,» are but a short step apart. It is not inconceivable that both responses could have issued from the same community at different times or from different elements of that community at the same time.

4. The Jewishness of the Disciples

Although John consistently avoids grouping Jesus» true disciples with «the Jews,» he nowhere denies their assumed Jewish ethnicity or their connection with the OT people of God. In fact, the common recognition that he uses «Israel» positively for the disciples suggests continuity, rather than discontinuity, in the people of God. Because this point has been thoroughly treated by others, it is noted here only briefly.1895

John came baptizing so that Jesus would be manifest to Israel (1:31), and indeed the true Israelite would recognize him even before his exaltation as Jacob's ladder (1:47–51). «His own» who did not receive him (1:11) are ultimately no longer attached to the vine (15:6), whereas those who did receive him become God's children, heirs of the covenant (1:12; cf. 8:34–47), that is, «his own» (10:3, 14). In John's distinctive irony, disciples–especially those officially excommunicated from the people of God (9:34–41)–inherit the ancient covenantal images for Israel, while their opponents, who claim to uphold Judaism, are presented in OT language as profaners of the covenant (10:1–8). Whether John writes of Jewish Christians only, or of Gentile Christians as well, may be debated; what is clear is that John and his opponents define the people of God in distinct and generally antithetical ways.

Some scholars use John's clear emphasis on his Jewish heritage to «deconstruct» what they regard as John's simultaneous «anti-Judaism» for modern readers.1896 But we should not think John's first audience needed to deconstruct one part of his message by appealing to another part. In a world where most monotheists and adherents to Israel's Bible were Jewish by birth or conversion, the distance between affirming Jewish heritage and repudiating Jewish people would appear even more obvious than it does in our modern period, when Christians (and, to a slighter extent, Muslims) have claimed that heritage. John's emphasis on his Jewish heritage (feasts, biblical citations, etc.) is so thoroughgoing that it seems doubtful he could have been anti-Judaic in his first setting; and his ideal audience must have shared the inside information that made sense of his less savory uses of the term «Jews.»

5. “The Jews» and the Johannine Sitz: Pharisaic Power

We will not repeat our discussion of the Sitz im Lehen of the Fourth Gospel treated earlier, but merely point out here that that discussion seems to be relevant here. Because the Galileans turn out to be more receptive than the Judeans, for instance (1:43; 2:1; 4:3, 43; 7:1, 9; etc.), we may suspect that some regional factionalism is in view (cf. 7:41, 52; see our following chapter). Assuming that John wrote in the last decade of the first century, Jerusalem no longer stood as the center of Judean Judaism, but Yavneh had no doubt begun to take its place. There many Jewish leaders, including many of particular Pharisaic persuasions, freed from much of their ideological competition by the destruction of the temple cult, wanted to centralize and reformulate Judaism.1897

Many groups undoubtedly felt uncomfortable with this new expression of Pharisaic dominance. In the Fourth Gospel there appears to be opposition from some centralized authority, and one gets the sense that other Jewish movements may have felt «pushed around» by «the Pharisees» (7:13; 9:22; 20:19). The dominant movement is repeatedly portrayed as exercising its power coercively over the rest of Judaism. While some Jewish leaders in the Gospel do not even consider Jesus» signs, other members of that community become intellectually dishonest due to the coercion of those with power (9:21–23; 12:42). Dogmatic presuppositions disallow a fair hearing for those who have experienced Jesus» renewing life (9:26–27a): power rather than reason is the opponents» response to honest inquiry (9:34).

Thus expulsion from some synagogues in Roman Asia becomes a necessary price for the Johannine Christians to pay for testifying for Jesus (9:22; 12:42; 16:2; cf. 10:4), and schism occurs in the people of God (7:43; 9:16; 10:19). Even the leaders are divided, though John does not favor the crypto-believers among them (12:42–43). In John's view, it was not only their Lord Jesus whom «the Jews» had betrayed to the Romans, but also his followers (18:35; cf. 16with 18:31–32).

«The Jews» in the Fourth Gospel are for its author precisely the antithesis of what their name implies. The first readers of the Gospel, excluded from the synagogue, felt cut off from their Jewish heritage. John, writing to reinforce their identity as Israel and to undermine that same claim of identity on the part of their opponents, concedes the title to these opponents in an ironic way, just as he does their ownership of the Law. But the whole tenor of his Gospel shows this concession to be an ironic one that in principle is repudiated by the practice of his opponents. It is only the Johannine community that may «say they are Jews,» and really are.

6. Conclusion

As has often been noted, John's «Jews» represent the Jewish leaders in his day who are endeavoring to centralize Jewish authority and to exclude «heterodox» groups like the Jewish Christians. At least some of these authorities had implied that the Johannine Christians could not be true Jews, perhaps due to their more-than-Messiah Christology.

John's response is to ironically reverse this charge, thereby granting the authorities the very title they covet, while undermining their right to it: the authorities «call themselves Jews, but are not» (cf. Rev 2:9; 3:9) Their possession of the Law and claim to belong to the covenant community are undercut by John's subtle portrayal of what he regards as their apostasy from the true way of the Law, that is, faith in Jesus. By reading the language of this conflict back into Jesus» conflicts with his earthly opponents, John portrays the opponents of his own community as the spiritual heirs of the very people who opposed their Lord.

If this reading of the Fourth Gospel is correct, an anti-Semitic usage of it, or even an unexplained rendering of «the Jews» in modern translations, is counter to John's purpose. Instead, the Fourth Gospel reflects a period when many Christians still understood themselves to be the logical climax of Judaism, and thus saw their conflict with the synagogue officials as one precipitated by their own loyalty to the Jewish faith. If translations of the Fourth Gospel retain the term «Jews», they might render it most faithfully by placing it in quotation marks with an appropriate footnote, so that modern readers may share with ancient ones the note of irony in the Fourth Gospel's language.

Galilee versus Judea

Although we have suggested above that John grants the title «Jews» ironically, it is noteworthy that «the Jews» who oppose Jesus and the community are usually Judean rather than Galilean. Even in ch. 6, Galileans who reject Jesus become Ioudaioi («Jews,» «Judeans») in the process.1898 Galileans may also begin with inadequate faith,1899 but they move beyond it more easily than most Judean counterparts (ch. 11 represents a clear exception). Although explicit contrasts between Judean rejection and Galilean acceptance are few,1900 the evidence is sufficient to suggest theological overtones in Johns geography.

Galilee also served a positive theological role in the Synoptics,1901 which may reflect the strength of the Christian movement in the region where Jesus had ministered.1902 It is possible that John has developed this theme because of Gentile connections, but it is more likely that he develops it because of Galileés alienation from the politically more influential circles of Judea.

1. How "Orthodox» Were the Galileans?

Following the work of Schürer, many scholars whose acquaintance with the materials is secondhand have supposed that Galileans, having converted to Judaism little more than a century before Jesus, were not properly Judaized. By 1941 Grundmann took this thesis so far as to argue that Jesus was not Jewish.1903 But whereas Jewish literature describes the forcibly-converted Idumeans as half-Jews, it never does the same for Galileans.1904 This may be partly because Galilee had mainly been resettled by Judeans after the Hasmonean conquests; archaeological surveys indicate that the area became heavily populated only after the Judean conquests.1905 Gentile cities abounded around Galilee1906 and social intercourse occurred.1907 But one should certainly not think the Greek influence to be greater in Galileés villages than in urban Jerusalem before 70 C.E.1908 Whereas the Golan included both Jewish and Syrian elemerits, lower Galilee was nearly completely Jewish by the time of Josephus.1909 The Upper Galilee had quite strong commercial ties with Tyre.1910 And whereas the Lower Galilee may reflect more hellenized art and speech due to its contact with larger cities,1911 it has been questioned whether it was appreciably more hellenized in other respects.1912 The theater of Sepphoris seated only five thousand, hence probably half of Sepphoris's own population; it was not intended for, nor did it likely attract, Galilean villagers.1913 Urban centers, whether in Galilee or Judea, tended to be more hellenized in language and in some respects in culture; by some estimates 40 percent of Jerusalem's epitaphs are in Greek.1914

But while Galileans were clearly Jewish, they were not well liked by all Judeans. They appear negatively in some rabbinic texts.1915 Opposition derives especially from later Babylonian texts1916–after the Palestinian rabbis had settled in Galilee following the abortive Bar Kokhba revolt of 132–135 C.E.–but some earlier rabbinic texts also question Galileans» observance of the law.1917 According to the rabbis, regional differences helped determine whether one could trust that food had been properly tithed1918–perhaps because not everyone followed rabbinic interpretations of the Law. But our first-century sources indicate Galileans» loyalty to the law,1919 and later Palestinian sources can approve Galilean customs even though they differed from the norms of, say, R. Akiba.1920

Although most extant sources, reflecting a Judean perspective, report only those Galilean teachers who taught outside Galilee,1921 the Gospel accounts of scribes in Galilee are intrinsically probable, given the need for such scribes and the non-Galilean nature of most of our sources. But charismatic teachers, less amenable to traditional restrictions than Pharisaic scribes, may have been more common in Galilee.1922 Galileans were loyal to the Jerusalem temple, but not particularly to the Pharisees or their successors (accounting for some subsequent calumnies).1923 Regional bias may have blended with class bias, an urban Jerusalem elite mistrusting the education of rural clients on its frontier.1924 Galilean respect for Jerusalem in Josephus warns us not to press matters too far, but regional prejudice seems to have served some polemical value among Galilean Christians and the Judean elite.1925

2. Were More Galileans Revolutionaries?

The marginalized status of Galileans versus the Judean elite in this Gospel provides a useful resource for narrative liberation theology,1926 but it is doubtful if any image of peasant revolt looms in the background. Judas the Galilean, leader of the infamous and ill-fated tax revolt during Jesus» childhood, was considered Galilean.1927

This does not, however, mean that Galileans were particularly predisposed toward revolution, as some have suggested.1928 Zeitlin and others have argued that Josephus used «Galilean» as a revolutionary rather than geographical title;1929 but this approach omits a significant body of evidence.1930

When Josephus's rhetoric is taken into account,1931 Galilee was clearly unprepared at the time of the first revolt; it hardly proved an ideal base for Zealot sympathizers.1932 Sepphoris, in fact, refused to join the revolt of 66–70, its citizens perhaps recalling its earlier destruction under Varus. Further, the messianic uprisings of the Samaritan, Theudas, and the Egyptian prophet which Josephus reports neither transpired near Galilee nor boasted explicit Galilean support.1933

3. Socioeconomic Differences Due to Urbanization

Literary and archaeological sources both suggest a cultural distinction between upper Galilee (the Golan) and lower Galilee. The latter included larger and more culturally mixed urban areas; although most of its inhabitants lived in villages. Galileés cities, which reflected a larger cultural context, influenced the villages continuously.1934 Nevertheless, archaeological and literary evidence confirm that the heavy population of the lower Galilee was primarily rural and agricultural,1935 and villages, despite cultural influences, were mainly autonomous politically and economically.1936 Differences and hence misunderstandings between rural and urban Mediterranean culture were pronounced,1937 despite the influence of the latter on the former.1938 This clash between urban and rural life obtained in Galilee as wel1.1939

Aside from the different geographical bases of the two movements, the Pharisees seem to have been primarily an urban movement,1940 whereas the Jesus movement began as a mostly rural movement that began to become urbanized shortly after the resurrection,1941 and only later penetrated into the rural areas of the Diaspora.1942

4. Location of the Elite

The Pharisees were centered in Jerusalem rather than in Galilee.1943 Their successors settled in Yavneh, which was also in Judea. Josephus indicates that most Galileans were loyal to Jerusalem and the priesthood.1944 Although Jerusalem exercised no political control over Galilee, Josephus shows that its status as Judaisms center gave it special influence.1945

Yet even in the second century, Galilee did not accept the rabbis» leadership.1946 The rabbis tried to control Galilean Jewry purely in religious matters, but Galileans generally did not accommodate them even here.1947 The rabbis» idealism concerning tithes probably did not commend itself to more agrarian peasants.1948

5. Theological Motivations

One scholar suggests that John's «Criticism of Judea may have been helpful in attracting the sympathetic attention of the Diaspora,»1949 but most Diaspora Jews respected Jerusalem and knew little of Galilee, even if the results of the war in Judea had left a bitter taste in their mouth. Despite this qualification, the Fourth Gospel could indicate the greater openness of Jews away from Jerusalem and its hierarchy,1950 an openness that perhaps explained the success of the Johannine community (and consequent hostility of local synagogue officiais).

Another motivation may have been the strong base Christianity held in Galilee in this period, as mentioned above. John s Palestinian tradition was probably circulated especially in Galilee, may reflect the artistry of a Galilean author (especially if, as we argued above, he is the son of Zebedee), and may in part address Jewish Christians in Asia who had migrated from Galilee in the aftermath of the war of 66–70. As Culpepper points out, the implied reader knows Galilean sites like Nazareth and Capernaum, but the narrator must explain Judean sites and Jerusalem's topography.1951

Finally, John may reflect authentic historical tradition; Jesus as a Galilean teacher was probably more welcome among Galilean farmers and suppliants than among the religious establishments in Jerusalem (cf. 4:43–45; 7:1, 40; 10:40; 11:7–10, 54).1952 The Galilean-Judean contrasts in the Gospel are important to the Fourth Gospel's message to its implied audience.

Conclusion

The Fourth Gospel's primary religious context is early Jewish Christianity, which in this period often found itself engaged in less than amicable relationships with many leaders of more traditional expressions of Jewish faith. The growing conflict between the rabbis and sectarians, who included Jewish Christians in the second and third centuries, may illustrate the sort of conflict the Fourth Gospel presupposes. John's response is to reclaim, not to repudiate, the Jewishness of his community, while at the same time rejecting the leaders who have rejected their message. In short, John confirms his audiencés continuity with their Jewish heritage, while summoning them to retain their commitment to Christ as their first theological priority. Christology thus remained the measure of ecclesiology: only those faithful to the Word made flesh truly remained faithful to the God of Israel and his Torah.

* * *

1410

Scroggs, «Judaizing»; «Scholars» Corner»; cf. Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 70. Even the early Luther recognized the «Hebraic» context of the NT (Lapide, Hebrew, x).

1411

Flusser, Judaism, 505, who also notes Jesus» unique contributions to first-century Judaism (505–7).

1412

Cross, Library, 206, 215–16; Mowry, «Scrolls,» 86; Hunter, John, 9; Brown, Community, 30; idem, Essays, 188–90. Despite common theological vocabulary, the theology does differ (cf. Koch, «Investigation»).

1413

E.g. (the list could be multiplied further), Meeks, «Jew,» 1:163; Smith, «Learned,» 218–22; Charlesworth, «Scrolls and Gospel»; Kaufman, Disciple, 27–28; Braine, «Jewishness»; Quast, Reading, 3–4; Stibbe, Gospel, 62; Sylvia Mary, Mysticism, 61–64.

1414

E.g., Smalley, John, 60; Longenecker, Christology, 19–20, 76; Martyn, «Religionsgeschichte»; Davies, «Aspects.»

1415

Robinson, Trust, 82; cf. Charlesworth, «Reinterpreting.»

1416

Flusser, Judaism, 23–24. Teeple, «Qumran,» 6–25, argues unconvincingly against the parallels. Bultmann's pre-DSS suggestion of Jordanian baptismal sects (Robinson, «Trajectory,» 234, n. 4) read later gnosticizing into the sects, whereas the Scrolls are all before 70.

1417

See Charlesworth, «Reinterpreting»; idem, Disciple, 313 n. 84; cf. Flusser, Judaism, 72–73. Capper, «Monks,» even suggests that the beloved disciple was part of a Jerusalemite Essene group early drawn to the circle of Jerusalemite Christians (cf. Acts 6:7). Despite its clearly Asian provenance, some have cited possible parallels between Qumran literature and Colossians (Bruce, «History,» 45; Longenecker, Christology, 55–56; Yamauchi, «Qumran and Colosse,» 141–52).

1418

Marrow, John, 6.

1419

E.g., Van der Horst, «Acts,» 49; cf. Conzelmann, Theology, 13.

1420

E.g., Sheldon, Mystery Religions, 131–33.

1421

Dodd, «Background,» 334. John explains purely Palestinian usages, but priests, Lévites, Pharisees, Elijah, and Isaiah appear immediately after the prologue without explanation (ibid.).

1422

Ramsay, Teaching, 50.

1423

E.g., in his Christology, Hengel, «OT.» John generally is most interested in the sense of the Bible as a whole, read from a christocentric perspective (see Beutier, «Scripture»).

1424

Dodd, Tradition, 36.

1425

Freed, Quotations, 117–30; cf. Ellis, «Uses,» 201; Lindars, Apologetic, 13; contrast Dodd, Tradition, 46; Fitzmyer, Essays, 59–89. Matthew probably drew from whole sections of the Hebrew Bible (Gundry, Use, 205–8), but not necessarily testimonia (Stendahl, School, 207–17). Allegro, «References,» esp. 182–87, found «Messianic» testimony in the Scrolls, but apart from two such citations in 4Q175, this text and 4Q176,4Q177, are mainly simply eschatological verse collections; more useful would be 4Q174 3.10–13; 4Q252 1 5.1–4; 11Q13 2.15–20.

1426

See Tenney, «Keys,» 303; Freed, Quotations, 129–30.

1427

This would certainly apply to the educated; Vermes, Religion, 186, cites Josephus Ag. Ap. 2.178; Philo Embassy 115,210.

1428

See Schuchard, Scripture, xvi-xvii, who sees most deviations from the LXX as motivated to fit John s editorial purposes (which must at least often be the case).

1429

Freed, Quotations, 129–30; Westcott, John, xiv-xv; cf., e.g., 6:45,13:18,19:37.

1430

See Painter, John, 131; Dahl, «History,» 131 (who compares and contrasts with Philo).

1431

Smith, «Typology,» is convincing, but after he critiques Enz and Sahlin (332), he is in turn critiqued by Lacomara, «Deuteronomy,» 65; cf. Tenney, «Keys,» 305–6; for Pentateuchal language, see Glasson, Moses, 79–81. Shepherd, Liturgy, 82, sees something of a new Pesach symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (cf. Pesiq. Rab. 52:8). Many have also proposed a NT Isaac typology (Wood, «Typology»; Wilcox, «Tree»; Longenecker, Christology, 115), but while there was some in Judaism (Jub. 18:12; Urbach, Sages, 1:502–7), it may have been overemphasized (Sanders, Paul, 28–29).

1432

Young, «Isaiah» (apocalyptic/mystical Judaism).

1433

See Tenney, «Keys,» 306–7; Longenecker, Exegesis, 152–53; Brown, Community, 49–50; van der Waal, «Gospel,» 34.

1434

Burney, Origin.

1435

See above under authorship, pp. 89–90.

1436

Bernard, John, klxivff.; Glasson, Moses, 106; Howard, Gospel, 123–24; Sanders, «Patmos»; Barrett, John, 62; see more fully above.

1437

There are Roman parallels to apocalyptic in Vergil's Eclogues (Knox, Gentiles, 15; cf. Shepherd of Hermas, which Romanizes earlier Jewish-Christian apocalyptic), but it is essentially a Jewish phenomenon (Bultmann, Theology, 2:175), using the style of Semitic poetry (Koester, Introduction, 2:175; cf. Trudinger, «Text,» 82–88). Nearly 70 percent of the verses in Revelation contain allusions to the OT (Ellis, «Uses,» 215 n. 27); for genre, see Fiorenza, «Apocalyptic»; but cf. Kallas, «Apocalypse.»

1438

Other arguments are possible if unclear: Jesus delivers the one afflicted for 38 years, as was Israel in the wilderness (5:5); he provides the wine necessary for the wedding feast, possibly alluding to Jewish traditions about God wedding Israel at Sinai or the Torah as wine (2:3–10; but these comparisons may represent overallegorizing).

1439

Pazdan, «Feasts,» rightly argues that Johannine Christians reappropriated the festivals, rather than that they were «replaced.» Köstenberger, John, 25–28, suggests that after 70 C.E. Jesus» relation to the temple and feasts would fit an evangelistic or apologetic purpose (we would emphasize the latter function over the former).

1440

See Dodd, Interpretation, 54–73.

1441

Lee, Thought, 17.

1442

Barrett, John, 40; Meeks, «Agent,» 60; Martens, «Prologue,» 172. Gunther, «Gospel,» uses Philonic and Hermetic parallels to argue for an Alexandrian provenance for John; cf. Bergmeier, «Frühdatierung.» Osborn, Justin, 73–74, does not even think that Justin used Philo (Chadwick, «Defense,» 296–97, is uncertain on this point).

1443

        John, 1:LVIII. Robinson, «Destination,» 130, sees it as the difference between «commending Judaism to Greek-speaking paganism» and «commending Christianity to Greek-speaking Judaism.»

1444

On which see, e.g., CIJ 2:16, §§750–751; Josephus Ant. 14.235, 259; Mitten, «Sardis,» 65; Kraabel, «Judaism,» 198–240; Hanfmann, Sardis, 168–90; idem, «Campaign»; Bonz, «Approaches»; for some questions, see Botermann, «Die Synagoge.»

1445

See, e.g., Van der Horst, «Aphrodisias.» The meaning of the «God-fearing» benefactors has generated much discussion (e.g., Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 51–82; Feldman, «Sympathizers»).

1446

See, e.g., Williams, «Corycus.»

1447

Although most scholars will agree that the earliest disciples, such as the first users of Q, saw themselves as part of Judaism (Tuckett, «Logia»), many suggest that by later in the first century a rift had occurred, some rooting its origins even in Jesus» teaching (cf. Mealand, «Test»). Passages like Rom 14 indeed suggest tension in some parts of the empire, but I argue that Matthew's audience still saw itself as part of Judaism (Keener, Matthew, 45–51, esp. 48–50) and believe the same for John. I think that only a later Gentile Christian could imagine Jewish Christians feeling the need to discard their Jewish heritage because they affirmed Jesus to be the Jewish Messiah!

1448

Cullmann, Circle, 33,52,96; idem, «Approach,» 8–12, 39–43; idem, «Qumran Texts,» 220–24; Aune, Eschatology, 65–66; cf. Smalley, John, 66–67; Smith, Johannine Christianity, 26–27, 34; idem, «Christianity» (following Martyn but finding heterodoxy); Strachan, «Odes,» op. cit. (although others have found gnosticizing elements there); Braun, «Arrière-fond» (Qumran). For wisdom motifs, see Brown, John, 1:CXXII-CXXV.

1449

See Keener, «Pneumatology,» 65–76.

1450

Despite probable exceptions and later Roman writers cited in Judge, «Rise.»

1451

Lucian Pereg. 11 (Loeb 5:12–13); but Tiede, Figure, 85, is all too accurate when he calls this passage «perplexing.» Wilken, «Christians,» 119–23, notes that outsiders recognized Christianity's Jewish roots well into the third century.

1452

See Goodman, «Nerva»; idem, «Identity.»

1453

Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 3.

1454

E.g., Smallwood, Rule, 539; Reinhold, Diaspora, 74; Selwyn, Peter, 51; Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 6.

1455

Rome treated it as a collegium rather than a religio; see Rajak, «Charter»; Parkes, Conflict, 8; Koester, Introduction, 1:365. For general information on their status, cf. Rabello, «Condition»; Applebaum, «Status»; Whittaker, Jews and Christians, 92–105.

1456

See Pucci Ben Zeev, «Position»; cf. Aune, Revelation, 169–72; Witherington, Acts, 541–44. Some cities had challenged these rights, but rarely in the preceding century (Trebilco, Communities, 13,183–84).

1457

ÓRourke,eLaw,"170.

1458

Cf., e.g., Vespasian rooting his powers in those of Augustus, CIL 6.930.

1459

E.g., Josephus Ant. 16.162–165; 19.280–285, 302–311; see Rajak, «Charter,» 109–16.

1460

Cf. Luke (Kent, Jerusalem, 17; Bruce, Commentary, 20–24); this may be why Acts 18omits mention of the reasons Suetonius later cites for Claudius's expulsion.

1461

P. Lond. 1912.82–88 (41 C.E.).

1462

Koester, Introduction, 1:364–65; though note also Georgi, «Reasons,» 35.

1463

E.g., Borchert, John, 72; some suggest that Christians in Galatia may have accepted circumcision to escape the demands of the imperial cult (Winter, Welfare, 133–43). For persecution in John's Sitz im Leben, see Minear, «Audience,» 340–41; cf. Kysar, Evangelist, 153.

1464

See Dalman, Jesus in Talmud, 36–37; Herford, Christianity, 137–45, 388, 393.

1465

Foakes Jackson and Lake, «Evidence,» 183–84; Aune, Environment, 137. For this practice in antiquity in Judaism, cf., e.g., Josephus Ag. Ap. 1.1,58–59,103–105; Justin 1 Apo1. 44; Parke, Sibyls, 8; Mason, Josephus and NT, 196–98; Ferguson, Backgrounds, 349; Hengel, Judaism, 1:93.

1466

Some accuse Luke of anti-Judaism (Sandmel, Anti-Semitism, 100; Klausner, Paul, 229; Slingerland, «Jews»; cf. Hare, «Rejection,» 27). More likely, Luke-Acts merely emphasizes the veracity and Jewishness of Christianity, despite much of Judaism's rejection (Brawley, Jews, 158–59); Lukés portrayal of the Pharisees (Brawley, Jews, 84–106) and the Jewish people (Brawley, Jews, 133–54; cf. Jervell, Luke, 44, 49; Stowers, «Synagogue»; Hengel, Acts, 63–64) is essentially positive (contrast Justin Martyr). The Christianity of Luke-Acts may have been sectarian like other early Jewish movements, but this hardly makes it anti-Semitic (see Donaldson, «Typology»).

1467

Most notably the fiscus Judaicus, a redirection of the half-shekel temple tax to the temple of Jupiter; see CPJ 1:80–81,2:119–36, §§160–229; Dio Cassius 65.7.2; Hemer, «Ostraka»; cf. Carlebach, «References.» Domitian broadened the scope of this taxation even to Jewish sympathizers ca. 90 C.E. (Gager, Anti-Semitism, 60); Appian R.H. 11.8.50 charges that Jews pay a higher poll-tax because they revolted so often.

1468

A Palestinian Amora learned not to curse even a min (b. Sank. 105b; cAbod. Zar. 4b; cf. also Herford, Christianity, 266–70). See comment on John 16:2.

1469

Cf. Brown, Community, 43, and Lee, Thought, 122, following Justin; cf. episodes recorded by Herford, Christianity, 221–26, 282–85. Cf. the irony in John 19:15.

1470

See, e.g., Barnett, «Parallelism.»

1471

For numismatic evidence for imperial apotheosis in the Julio-Claudian period see Kreitzer, «Apotheosis.»

1472

E.g., Ovid Metam. 15.745–750, 843–851; Strabo Geog. 4.5.4; 17.1.6; Suetonius Julius 76; Aulus Gellius 15.7.3; Cornelius Nepos 25 (Atticus), 19.2; Dio Cassius 51.20.6; Pausanias 3.11.5; in Alexandria, cf. Philo Embassy 151; Fishwick, «Caesar»; idem, «Caesareum.»

1473

E.g., Pliny Ep. 10.65.3; Tacitus Ann. 1.10–11,41–42; 2.20; 3.62; Dio Cassius 56.46.1. See further discussion in Filson, «Ephesus,» 77; Fishwick, «Ovid»; Deissmann, Light, 344–46; Yamauchi, Archaeology, 17, 28.

1474

E.g., Virgil Aen. 9.642; Herodian 4.2.1, 5,11; for deceased relatives, e.g., Herodian 6.1.4.

1475

Tiberius (e.g., Tacitus Ann. 4.13); Caligula (e.g., Philo Leg. 81; Suetonius Calig. 22); Claudius (Tacitus Ann. 12.66, 13.2; Suetonius Nero 9); Nero (Suetonius Nero 31; cf. Tacitus Ann. 15.22, 73; Massa, Pompeii, 116); and Vespasian and Titus (Pliny Ep. 10.65.3; Paneg. 11.1); later, Hadrian (Philostratus Vit. soph. 1.25.534).

1476

See Yamauchi, Cities, 57, 66, 83–85; Ramsay, Seven Churches , 231–32, 283, 366–67, 410; Aune, Revelation, 775–79.

1477

See, e.g., Tilborg, Ephesus, 174–212 (on pp., 40–47, rightly suggesting a contrast with John).

1478

See Horsley, Galilee, 121. For the impact even in Judea and Galilee see Horsley, Galilee, 120–22.

1479

P.Lond. 1912.9,28–29, 60–62.

1480

P.Lond. 1912.48–51. Cf. the similar humility of Tiberius (Tacitus Ann. 4.38; Sinclair, «Temples»).

1481

Like Caligula, Nero, Domitian, and Commodus; e.g., Herodian 1.14.8. This inspired flattery during their lives (e.g., Lucan C. W. 1.63–66) but cost them their posthumous «deification» (e.g., Dio Cassius 60.4.5–6; Herodian 1.15.1).

1482

E.g., Virgil Aen. 6.585–594; earlier for Macedonians, Arrian Alex. 4.11.1–9; 4.12.1. Even Greeks regarded neglect of onés mortality as hubris (Sophocles Ajax 758–779).

1483

See P. Pet. 3.43 (2), co1. 3.11–12 (Ptolemies); Philostratus Vit. Apol1. 1.27–28; Dio Chrysostom Or. 32.26. Scholars regularly refer to this phenomenon (cf., e.g., Brown, «Kingship»; Jones, Chrysostom, 105; Ramsay, Luke, 139; Knox, Gentiles, 11; Conzelmann, Theology, 11; Lohse, Environment, 216–18); some parallels exist even between ancient Egyptian and Roman divine kingship (Ockinga, «Divinity»).

1484

Even early in his reign people had been calling him δεσπότης and θεός (Dio Cassius 67.13.4), and Rome had long been sensitive concerning secret gatherings unsanctioned by the state, especially in Rome itself (Livy 39.15.11; 39.18.9).

1485

The early literature is colored by distaste for Domitians evil temperament and deeds (Pliny Ep. 9.13.2; Tacitus Hist. 4.86; Plutarch Mor. 522E; Suetonius Titus 9), but it may well have been earned.

1486

Suetonius Dom. 12; cf. Koester, Introduction, 2:251; Jones, Chrysostom, 118.

1487

Suetonius Dom. 15.

1488

Philostratus Vit. Apol1. 7–8; Aulus Gellius 15.11.3–5; Philostratus Vit. soph. 1.488; cf. Jones, Chrysostom, 45; Koester, Introduction, 1:316.

1489

See Eusebius Hist. ecc1. 3.17; Koester, Introduction, 1:316; Reicke, Era, 293–302; Ramsay, Churches, 91; Parkes, Conflict, 87. It is unclear whether by «Jewish ways» (LCL) and «atheism» Dio Cassius 67.14.1–2 includes Christians, but the policies described in Pliny's correspondence with Trajan (Ep. 10.96–97; cf. Fishwick, «Pliny») were no doubt instituted under Domitian (Ramsay, Empire, 212–13, 259–61; pace Downing, «Prosecutions»). Pliny himself was usually more humane (cf. Bell, «Pliny»).

1490

Lohse, Environment, 83. Domitian apparently disliked Judaism (Suetonius Dom. 12; Ramsay, Church, 268, 355), despite its official exemption from emperor worship (Goppelt, Times, 107; Reicke, Era, 284–86).

1491

Koester, Introduction, 1:365.

1492

Klauck, «Sendschreiben,» attributes the persecution not to Domitian per se but to pagan urban society as a whole. Significantly, compromise with the world is a greater danger than persecution for most of the seven churches; see Talbert, Apocalypse, 25; Smith, «Apocalypse»; Giesen, «Ermutigung.» But three of the churches faced persecution; both problems are in view (Keener, Revelation, 37–39; Beale, Revelation, 28–33).

1493

See the discussion in Keener, Matthew, 46–50; Saldarini, Community, passim.

1494

Travelers in the ancient Mediterranean regularly brought word from other friends (e.g. Euripides E1. 361–362; Cicero Att. 2.11); see comments under John's knowledge of the Synoptics in introduction, pp. 41–42.

1495

Hemer, Letters, 9, citing especially Juvenal Sat. 3.13–16; 6.542–547.

1496

Setzer, Responses, 165.

1497

On such diversity, cf. Porton, «Diversity»; Luke, «Society»; Boccaccini, «Judaisms.»

1498

Cf. Goodman, «Essenes» (though we still think the Scrolls are Essene).

1499

Sanders, Jesus, 195.

1500

My arguments are summarized in Keener, Marries, 23, and notes 2–6 on 145–46. On scribes, see also Scott, Customs, 165–68; Orton, Scribe, 39–133. Sandmel, Genius, 43, is probably right that the rabbinate was in some sense established before 70, minimizing the difficulty of the transition to Yavneh.

1501

Cf. m. "Abot 3:10, if the reference to «houses of assembly» of the am háaretz means more than nonreligious gatherings in homes.

1502

Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 255–56; idem, Judaism, ix, 3, 11, 449; cf. McEleney, «Orthodoxy»; Aune, «Response»; McEleney, «Replies.»

1503

Cf. the saying attributed to Hillel in m. "Abot 2:4: «Do not separate [אל תפרישס] yourself from the community,» which originally probably would have been meant more broadly than a Pharisaic association. Flusser, Judaism, 483, rightly distinguishes Essene sectarianism from the more usual, growing solidarity in Judaism.

1504

Cf., e.g., Spittler's suggestions for the context of T. Job in «Introduction,» 836.

1505

Cohen, Maccabees, 126, suggests the «true Israel» ideology as the distinguishing mark of an ancient Jewish sect.

1506

Cf. Kraabel, «Diaspora.» Rabbinic literature is far more useful for reconstructing the Palestinian than the Diaspora Jewish social setting (Meyers, «Judaism and Christianity,» 75).

1507

Cf. Thoma, «Auswirkungen»; Overman, Community, 11,15; Schiffman, Jew, passim.

1508

Neusner, Legend, 60, supposes that the pro-Roman Sadducees vied with Johanan ben Zakkaís party for Roman favor; if this is the case, however, they must have been considerably weakened for a Pharisaic party to have ultimately won out.

1509

Although ben Zakkai and his successors were advocates of peace, Akibás openness to Bar Kokhba shows that some revolutionary sympathies survived among them. Cf. also Josephus Ant. 13.288–298; 17.41–44,149–163 (if these were Pharisees), and compare the descriptions of Pharisees and the early first-century revolutionaries in Josephus Ant. 1.23; cf. also War 2.118 (to which Josephus contrasts only the relatively reclusive Essenes at length, War 2.119–161).

1510

Some scholars suggest that some Essenes survived as late as the eighth century, influencing the Karaite sect (Negoïtsa, «Essenes»; Bardtke, «Erwägungen»), a suggestion possibly supported by the parallels between the two groups (Ginsberg, «Scrolls,» 81; Fritsch, Community, 86–89; Kahle, «Karaites»; Wieder, «Sectaries»), although the old view that the documents may have been written by fifth- or sixth-century Karaites (defended as recently as Hoenig, «Fantasies») can no longer be seriously maintained.

1511

Cohen, Maccabees, 225.

1512

Josephus Ant. 13.298.

1513

See Josephus War 4.159; and esp. Life 190–192. Some contend that Gamaliel II controlled much land in Yavneh (cf. comments on m. B. Mesica 5:8).

1514

In contrast to earlier, under Salome Alexandra (Josephus War 1.110–113; Ant. 13.399–405). Neusner, «Pharisees,» rightly argues that their political involvement effectively ended (with individual exceptions like Simeon ben Gamaliel) in the first century b.C.E.

1515

Sanders, Judaism, 388–402, 458–90. Josephus's few statements that could be interpreted otherwise probably reflect his own social situation (see Sanders, Judaism, 410–11; cf. 11,488–89).

1516

Except during Agrippa Ís reign, the aristocracy answered to the Roman governor; but because he lived in Caesarea most of the year the municipal aristocracy would have exercised considerable power, provided they expressed it in deference to Rome.

1517

Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 128–29; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 101. For fuller evidence that the Pharisees did not control Palestine in the time of Jesus, see Sanders, Figure, 388–402, 458–90. Later texts frequently contrast their views with those of the Sadducees (e.g., t. Hag. 3:35; Yoma 1:8; b. B. Bat. 115b; Nid. 33b; Sukkah 48b), with whom they undoubtedly vied for influence (cf. Acts 23:6–9; Josephus Ant. 13.297).

1518

Smith, Magician, 29, 50 is too skeptica1. Even Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 312–13, probably explains away too much evidence (the Gospels, some rabbinic, and some Josephus texts) about Pharisaic presence in the Sanhédrin. For their prominence, cf. Cohen, Maccabees, 163; cf. Neusner, Beginning, 45–61; Mason, «Dominance.» They were probably more influential than Josephus allows in the War (where he apparently wishes to exculpate them from influence in the revolt) but less powerful than many modern scholars have supposed on the basis of his Antiquities; see further Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 195–96; idem, Figure, 410–11, 488–89; though cf. differently Mason, Josephus and NT, 140–43; idem, Pharisees; Williams, «Smith.»

1519

Josephus Ant. 13.298; 18.15, 17; Sanders, Figure, 402–4.

1520

Horsley, Galilee, 149–50; Overman, Community, 128.

1521

Josephus War 2.98; Ant. 17.321; 18.31.

1522

Josephus War 4.444; cf. 4.130; Horsley, Galilee, 95–96.

1523

Cf., e.g., Sanders, Figure, 422–23; Kugel and Greer, Interpretation, 66; Cohen, Maccabees, 154–59, 227. Sanders, Judaism, 422–23, rightly points especially to the heritage in the schools of Hillel and Shammai, although the purported physical descent of Gamaliel from Hillel may reflect a later development.

1524

Horsley, Galilee, 96; cf. Sigal, Halakah, 4.

1525

See Theissen, Gospels, 230–32.

1526

Suspicion of Jewish Christians» disloyalty, on grounds either of their linkage with Gentile Christians or of their flight from Jerusalem, seems less probable, given some degree of client relationship with Rome for the Yavneh elite.

1527

Tannaitic evidence allows that second-century Galilean villages still regulated their own affairs (t. B. Mesica 11in Goodman, State, 120). In the first century seven judges (presumably elders) decided cases for each city, assisted by Levites (Josephus Ant. 4.214–215; cf. 4.287; War 2.571).

1528

Cf. Saldarini, Community, 13–18; Horsley, Galilee, 233–34.

1529

E.g., Groh, «Jews and Christians,» 87–89, including synagogues next to cemeteries and with paintings of uncircumcised nudes; cf. Meyers and Kraabel, «Iconography,» 189–90; Cohen, Maccabees, 223–24; Sanders, Judaism, 246; Horsley, Galilee, 98, 103–4. For synagogue zodiacs, often with Helios at the center, cf., e.g., Goodenough, Symbols, 1:266–67; 8:167–218; May, «Synagogues,» 9; Shanks, «Zodiac»; Hachlili, «Zodiac»; Meyers, «Setting.»

1530

See Goodman, State, 127, especially citing legal documents; Sanders, Judaism, 465.

1531

Cohen, Maccabees, 18–19.

1532

Goodman, State, 127.

1533

Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:698.

1534

Ibid., 3:700.

1535

For the history, see Urbach, Sages, 1:5–9; McNamara, Judaism, 161; Doeve, Hermeneutic, 197; Fisher, «Polemic»; and esp. Sanders, Paul, 33–59; Tyson, Approaches, 1–11; Heschel, «Anti-Semitism.» W. D. Davies has contended that the spirit of Pharisaism might be better captured in Pirke Aboth than in the halakic collections («Aboth,» 127).

1536

Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 63.

1537

E.g., Schwab, «Portrayal»; Wheeler, «Problems.»

1538

A case argued in Finkelstein, «Core.»

1539

Cf. Neusner, Saying, 179–90; idem, New Testament, 41–67.

1540

E.g., the frequent rabbinic discussion of the hermaphrodite, e.g., Sipra VDDen. pq. 18.31.2.1.

1541

Cf. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 128. Neusner, New Testament, 115–17, questions Sanders's appeal beyond the specific legal sources, but Sanders's case makes sense of the broader available data if one does not follow Neusner's methodology of historical minimalism.

1542

So Safrai, «Literature»; cf. Visotzky, «Prolegomenon.» Silberman, «Use,» after critiquing an incorrect use of the sources, notes that he is not suggesting that the use of such sources be abandoned. Buchanan, «Use,» is among those who suggest guidelines.

1543

Cf. Sanders, Judaism, 413, concerning details about the Pharisees, complaining that Josephus provides only general observations.

1544

See Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, 16–17; cf. ibid., ix-x.

1545

Vermes, Religion, 8–9. He may identify the rabbinic movement too closely with common Judaism, however (Vermes, Religion, 184).

1546

Neusner, New Testament, ix.

1547

Ibid., 114, critiquing Sanders.

1548

His mentor, Morton Smith, was among the early defenders, e.g., «Method,» although Neusner reports a later falling out between them (Neusner, New Testament, 4). The conservative Ben Zion Wacholder of Hebrew Union College replied to Smith's article in «Reply.» Arguments for the reliability of early rabbinic sources, especially the Mishnah, were deemed important at least as early as 1925 (Oesterley, Liturgy, 16–35).

1549

Cf. Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 166–254,309–31, where he takes him to task on aspects of his methodology.

1550

Ibid., 110–13. Neusner acknowledges the development of his views on some matters (Saying, 181–87).

1551

See Neusner, New Testament, 106–24. Part of the issue may be semantic; Neusner himself (in «Pharisees») sees only relatively small differences in beliefs between Pharisees and other Jewish groups.

1552

Neusner, New Testament, 41–67.

1553

Ibid., 57–58, claims only 3–5 percent of the materials in Gen. Rab. overlap with Lev. Rab. (This evaluation addresses shared stories or sayings, not customs or ideas.)

1554

Ibid., 48–49.

1555

Because Neusner's scholarship, like that of most scholars, has matured and changed over time, we focus especially on one of his works rather than seeking to generalize about «the views of Neusner.»

1556

«Nearly all pre-70 traditions were thoroughly revised at Yavneh and afterward» (Neusner, Traditions, 3:239). Lieberman, Hellenism, 91–92 also observes that pupils sometimes mixed up which teacher said something, and that teachers also sometimes revised their own opinions, leaving contradictory versions of the teacher's ruling or opinion (cf. p. B. Qam. 2:6, §3); this introduces complications into some post-70 attributions as wel1.

1557

Neusner, Traditions, 3:4. In Legend, 5–6, he argues that disciples in Babylonian materials sometimes assumed their attributions were right, but the following generation knew better; but his appeal to later traditionaries against the earlier ones seems counter to his normal methodology.

1558

E.g., "Abot R. Nat. 24 A (although we admittedly somewhat circularly assume in this case the correctness of its attribution to Elisha ben Abuyah!); cf. p. Ter. 8for the Amoraic period. Baraitot in Amoraic texts are naturally less dependable than sources in Tannaitic collections, but «our rabbis» seems to have normally served as shorthand for R. Judah ha-Nasi and his court (p. Git. 7:3, §1; Nid. 3:4, §3).

1559

Neusner, Traditions, 3:2.

1560

Neusner, New Testament, 68–69.

1561

E.g., Neusner, Traditions, 3:147, 163. The unbroken chains of tradition back to Moses (m. «Abot 1:1; »Abot R. Nat. 1 A; 1, §2 B) are certainly late and probably influenced by Hellenistic models (Culpepper, School 185); the view that «pairs» always had to represent opposing positions ("Abot R. Nat. 22, §46 B) is also questionable, though rabbinic dialectic certainly developed in these terms.

1562

He does argue in a later work (Neusner, New Testament) that one cannot base a case on what one cannot prove to be early, but this view of the burden of proof is a minimalist methodological presupposition, not specifically required by his data and not generally followed by classicists when earlier resources prove limited (cf., e.g., Levinskaya, Diaspora Setting, ix).

1563

For Pharisaic popularity, see, e.g., Mason, «Chief Priests,» 176–77, against detractors.

1564

        Legend, 9–10.

1565

Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 166–73; idem, Judaism, 496 n. 11, argues that some of the anonymous material is early because it is presupposed in Pharisaic debates. Hauptman, «Sugya,» thinks that these passages are late but may contain a Tannaitic stratum. Some Amoraim believed that anonymous material from Akibás disciples like Meir could be safely assumed to be Akibás (p. Ber. 2:1, §4).

1566

Especially if earlier written sources attribute them to post-first-century rabbis; cf. the introduction of Judah Goldin in The Fathers According to Rabbi Nathan, xxi.

1567

See Neusner, «Attributions.»

1568

Neusner, New Testament, 68–82.

1569

Cf. Neusner, Traditions, 3:3; sayings often quickly became property of the schools, and formulaic convention stylized individual utterances for the community.

1570

Cf. discussion of the collective tradition in Stern, «Attribution.»

1571

One could suppose that the later tradition has been read back into an earlier attribution, but the simplicity of the principle («Get for yourself a teacher») could also suggest the reverse.

1572

E.g., Neusner, Legend, 3. This need not imply that anonymity was an important practice in early Pharisaism, as Finkelstein, Making, 187–98, has suggested.

1573

Cf. Culpepper, School, 193–94.

1574

See Thomas, «Gospe1.»

1575

Neusner likewise recognizes a continuity and unity in the ethos of rabbinic Judaism, though not in the sayings or stories (Saying, 189). Horsley, Galilee, 198 finds Mishnaic references «to local folklore or customs» most helpfu1.

1576

Neusner, New Testament, 134.

1577

Ibid., 10, 86.

1578

Methods of testing in such cases could include common attestation in both Talmuds and attempts to evaluate from which generations literary features derive (Kraemer, «Reliability»).

1579

See, e.g., the argument of Sanders, Judaism, 10. Segal, «Voice,» 3 is correct that the traditions must be evaluated individually.

1580

Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 243.

1581

E.g., Avigad, Jerusalem, 171.

1582

E.g., Goldenberg, «Halakha»; Goldenberg, "Antiquities iv.» Sanders, Judaism, 463, rightly warns that the parallels reflect common custom, not Josephus's dependence on rabbinic rules.

1583

See Belkin, Philo, passim.

1584

Cf. Schiffman, Law; idem, «Light»; Mantel, «Oral Law,» especially from CD; cf. Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 100–114. Neusner, Traditions, 3:175–76, accepts such parallels as valid evidence that particular traditions are early, though he rightly points out that this does not make them peculiarly Pharisaic or rabbinic (his point in that work).

1585

See both volumes of Cohen, Law.

1586

See Jonge, «New Testament,» 40–41.

1587

Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 84–85; cf. also Stegner, «Homily,» 66.

1588

Jeremias, Sayings, 24–25.

1589

E.g., the hostile reaction to Akibás explanation of the thrones in Dan. 7(as reported in b. Hag. 14a; Sanh. 38b); the punishment of R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus for appreciating a saying of Jesus (Moore, Judaism, 2:250; Dalman, Jesus in Talmud, 36–37, cite t. Hu1. 2:24; b. cAbod. Zar. 16b-17a; Ecc1. Rab. to Eccl 1:8); and prohibited interpretations of Scripture that could support Christian «ditheism» (e.g., baraitot in b. Sanh. 38a; R. Johanan in 38b).

1590

Feldman, «Antiquities,» also suggests that some of L.A.R's traditions sound closer to those later preserved in the rabbis than to Josephus.

1591

Martin Abegg in Wise, Scrolls, 355, on 4Q389 frg. 3 (though the text is fragmentary, making the parallel less clear).

1592

Cf. also, e.g., the story told by Judah ha-Nasi in b. Sank 9lab (cf. Mek. Sir. 2), which appears in more elaborate form in Apocr. Ezek. 1–2, a document which may have been in circulation by the late first century c.E. (assuming that the Clement quote represents this document; cf. comparisons in OTP 1:492,494).

1593

        Jub. 4:30; Gen. Rab. 19:8; Pesiq. Rab. 40:2. These were the results of an unpublished study in Essene and Pharisaic haggadic (with some halakic) trajectories from common Judaism.

1594

        Jub. 2:3; b. Sanh. 38b; Gen. Rab. 17:4; Lev. Rab. 29:1; Num. Rab. 19:3.

1595

        Jub. 2:7; Gen. Rab. 15:3.

1596

        Jub. 7:20–25; Finkelstein, Making, 223–27; Schultz, «Patriarchs,» 44–45, 48–49, 55–56; Mek. Bah. 5; b. cAbod. Zar. 64b; Sanh. 56a; 59a; 74b; Yebam. 48b; Gen. Rab. 26:1; 34:14; Exod. Rab. 30:9; Deut. Rab. 1:21.

1597

        Jub. 2:2; Gen. Rab. 1:3; cf. Gen. Rab. 1:7; 8:3–4, 8.

1598

        Jub. 4:17–23; 10:17; Gen. Apoc. 2.19; 1–3 Enoch; T. Ab. 11:3–10B; contrast Gen. Rab. 25:1; on Jubilees special Enoch traditions, cf. VanderKam, «Traditions,» 245. Cf. perhaps also Noah haggadah (Jub. 10:17; Gen. Rab. 26:6; 28:8; 29:1, 3; 36:3; more positive in b. Sanh. 108a), especially his birth (Gen. Apoc. co1. 2; extraordinary birth narratives apply especially to Moses in b. Sanh. 101a; Sotah 12a; Exod. Rab. 1:20,23,26: Lev. Rab. 20:1; Pesiq. Rab. 43:4; also in Philo Moses 1.3, §9; Josephus Ant. 2.217–37, but not in Jub. 47:1–8).

1599

        Jub. 4:22; 5:1; 7:21; 2 Bar. 56:10–15; T. Reu. 5:5–6; CD 2.16–18: Philo Unchangeable 1; rare in rabbis except perhaps Gen. Rab. 31:13.

1600

LXX; Bar. 4:7; Jub. 1:11; 22:16–17; 1QM 14.15–16; 15.13–14; 17.5–8; 1 En. 19:1; 1Cor. 10:20; Did. 6; Athenagoras Plea 26; Tertullian Apo1. 23:4–5; cf. Urbach, Sages, 1:23.

1601

        Jubilees» and Qumran's continuance of the old solar calendar (see Morgenstern, «Calendar»; Marcus, «Scrolls,» 12), possibly influential in the second century B.c.E. (Wirgin, Jubilees, 12–17, 42–43; for a consequent pre-Hasmonean dating, see Zeitlin, ««Jubilees,»» 224), naturally created a rift with the lunar-based temple service and Pharisaism (Noack, «Pentecost,» 88–89; Brownlee, «Jubilees,» 32; Baumgarten, «Beginning»; cf. Jub. 2:9–10; 6:17, 32–38). Rivkin, «Jubilees,» even argues that Jubilees was written against the Pharisee-scribes because they had created their own calendar. This may also indicate why the sun is extolled (Jub. 2:12; 4:21; cf. 1QS 10.1–5; CD 10.15–16; cf. Smith, «Staircase,» who may go too far, given synagogue zodiacs and Josephus's astrological interpretations of temple imagery).

1602

See, e.g., Incant. text 17.1–2; 19.2; 34.1; 47.1; Rahmani, «Amulet» (second or third century C.E.). Cf. also, e.g., 1 En. 15:9; 69:12; Jub. 10:1–14; 1QM 13.11–12; T. Jud. 23:1.

1603

Though both demons (m. "Abot 5:6) and protection from them (Sipre Num. 40.1.5; cf. b. cAbod. Zar. 12b, bar.) do appear at times.

1604

E.g., b. Ber. 6a; B. Mesica 86a; Qidd. 29b; Pesah. 110a-12b; Sanh. 101a, bar.; Gen. Rab. 36:1; 56:6;Num. Rab. 12:3; Deut. Rab. 4:4; SongRab. 3:7, §5; Midr. Pss. 17:8; Pesiq. Rab.5:10; 15:3.Admit-tedly, such practices became most dominant in the Amoraic period.

1605

This is not to deny, of course, that some rabbis grew up among the sages, such as Simeon b. Gamaliel, whose father was one (m. "Abot 1:17).

1606

Neusner, Traditions, 1:7, argues that the divergent details in the secondary account are not original, a generally but not universally valid deduction.

1607

Ibid., 1:11–13.

1608

Ibid., 3:283.

1609

See many of the parallels on Joshua b. Perahiah and Nittai the Atbelite, Judah b. Tabbai and Simeon b. Shetah (ibid., 1:82–141). Other accounts of Hillel seem to expand little on the Tosefta version (cf. ibid., 1:292).

1610

Ibid., 1:21–22.

1611

Ibid., 2:3.

1612

For instance, in Chariton 6.1.2–5, the protagonist's side is twice mentioned first.

1613

Neusner, Traditions, 2:21.

1614

Neusner, New Testament, passim.

1615

Ibid., passim.

1616

So Brown, Community, 17 (even if he reconstructs hypothetical redaction history in too much detail).

1617

Martyn"s «two-level» hypothesis fits ancient Hellenistic biographic and historiographie conventions (Aune, Environment, 62; against Kümmel, Introduction, 231); since it was normal procedure for educated readers to read a forensic speech in light of the context in which it was originally delivered (Quintilian 10.1.20–22), but all the original recipients of such a speech would unconsciously be able to read it in the right context without having to reconstruct it, we may appeal to situational context in interpretation even on the level of authorial intent.

1618

Carson, Moo, and Morris, Introduction, 171; Carson, John, 8,87–95; Milne, Message, 24–25; cf. Glaze, «Emphases.»

1619

See Whitacre, John, 28, 30.

1620

E.g., Koester, «Brown and Martyn»; Dunn, «John,» 302–4; Perkins, Reading, 249–50; Tuni, «Teologia»; ÓDay, «John,» 658; Hasitschka, «Anmerkungen»; Lindars, John, 16; Rensberger, Faith, 26; Kysar, «Gospel,» 918; Tolmie, Farewell, 3; Quast, «Community.»

1621

Witherington, Wisdom, 7. He suggests that Johannine Christians were instead trying to evangelize there (Wisdom, 13), a not implausible suggestion (cf., e.g., Acts 9:20; 13:5,43; 14:1; 17:10, 17; 18:4,19, 26; 19:8; but 24seems curious), though not incompatible with them being there (cf. Acts 9:2; 22:19; Jas 2:2).

1622

Blasi, Sociology, 288.

1623

This is adequately refuted by Martyn, «Mission.»

1624

E.g., Moloney, Belief, 14–17.

1625

Lohse, «Synagogue,» doubts that a total break had occurred in Revelation.

1626

See, e.g., Hagner, "Sitz,» 64–65, persuasively, and Dunn, «Antioch,» 10, which he cites; France, Evangelist, 101; 2Cor 11:24; 1 Thess 2:14. We lack reason to attribute conflict narratives to Mark's imagination (pace Mack, Myth, 375); intra-Jewish disputes were common in the Second Temple period (e.g., 4QMMT in Overman, Community, 224), and conflict pervaded the ethos of Mediterranean society (cf. sophists in Winter, Philo and Paul; politics in Marshall, Enmity). Controversy stories may fit a Greek form (Mack, Myth, 195), but it was also a Jewish form (Theissen, Gospels, 122).

1627

Reicke, Era, 305; Harrington, People, 104; cf. Bruce, Commentary on Acts, 452–53. For Yavneh and its successors, cf., e.g., Gen. Rab. 97 (NV). Flusser, Judaism, 636, thinks the real break occurred only in the Bar Kokhba revolt of 132–135 C.E., but recognizes that the «same sectarian, separatist trend» which characterized Qumran also quickly separated Christianity from the rest of Judaism (36).

1628

Allen, «Church,» 91–92; Kysar, Evangelist, 149,156; idem, «Vectors,» 366; Manns, «Réponse.» For rabbinic authority at Yavneh, see Bowman, Gospel, 25.

1629

Wrede, Origin, 83–84. Ashton, Understanding, 108, cites far earlier Aberle, «Zweck» (1861).

1630

See Neusner, Beginning, 30.

1631

Baum, Jews, 105, although he probably implicitly identifies the leaders of the synagogue too closely with Pharisaism.

1633

Cf. also Beasley-Murray, John, xlvii. See comments in Setzer, Responses, 101,114–15.

1634

Visotzky, «Prolegomenon.» The archaeological data encourage a more positive picture of Jewish Christians with their neighbors, but so far sheds little light on the polemic reported from various documentary sources.

1635

Concurring with Urbach, Sages, 1:303; pace Davies, Sermon, 89–90.

1636

The proposal that Simeon ben Zoma converted to Christianity (Levey, «Secret») has been hotly disputed (Zeitlin, «Plague»; against Elisha ben Abuyás conversion, see Ayali, «Apostasie»).

1637

See «Abot R. Nat. 2 A; »Abot R. Nat. 2, §13 B; b. Hag. 14a; Ber. 12b; cAbod. Zar. 16b-17a (R. Eliezer; cf. Ecc1. Rab. 1:8, §3), 27b (R. Ishmael with a Christian faith healer); Ecc1. Rab. 1:8, §4; Pesiq. Rab. 13:6; Justin Dia1. 35; cf. Herford, Christianity, 218–19; Schiffman, Jew, 64–67. On Justin in the above connection, see Williams, Justin, xxxii, 74 n. 3. Kalmin, «Heretics,» finds the emphasis on their seductiveness especially in early Palestinian materia1.

1638

E.g., b. Sanh. 33b; Hu1. 84a (Amoraic); Herford, Christianity, 226–27; Dalman, Jesus, 36–37. The discussions may be simply a literary form to glorify the rabbis and to present the minim as foolish, but the substance of the debates suggests that some genuine controversies occurred (e.g., perhaps memories of conflicts in Lydda; cf. Schwartz, «Ben Stada»).

1639

        Gen. Rab. 34:10.

1640

Palestinian rabbinic anti-Christian polemic appears sophisticated by the fifth and sixth centuries C.E.; cf. Visotzky, «Polemic.»

1641

Cf. the introduction, ch. 2, on Jesus» discourses, pp. 65–68.

1642

        Num. Rab. 4:9, 9:48; Ecc1. Rab. 2:8, §2; Pesiq. Rab Kah. 1:2, 4(all purportedly from the Johannine period); p. Meg. 1:11, §3 and 3:2, §3 (claiming to reflect Tannaitic tradition); see Barrett, «Anecdotes.» Some antipagan polemical collections may have later been adapted against Christians (Hirschman, «Units»).

1643

E.g., b. Sanh. 39a.

1644

E.g., p. Yebam. 1:6, §1.

1645

E.g., t. cAbod. Zar. 6:7; b. cAbod. Zar. 54b.

1646

E.g., m. «Abot 2:14; b. Sanh. 38b [= »Abot 2:14]; cf. t. Sanh. 13:5; p. Sanh. 10:1, §7; see Geiger, «Apikoros.»

1647

E.g., b. Sanh. 39a; Bek. 8b; Ecc1. Rab. 2:8, §2 (all purportedly Tannaitic; this category is probably fictitious, maybe in response to anti-Jewish propaganda like Acts of Alexandrian Martyrs).

1648

E.g., b. cErub. 101a, purportedly Tannaitic.

1649

B. Hu1. 84a; Sanh. 38b (purportedly Tannaitic), 39a, 43a, 90b, 99a; Meg. 23a; Ber. 10a; cf. b. Yoma 56b-57a (textual variant and probably a Sadducee); cf. further Moore, «Canon,» 123–24; Maier, Jesus in Überlieferung, 170–71; Bagatti, Church, 98ff.

1650

The forms are culture-specific and are even used of God with his angels (e.g., b. Roš Haš. 32b). Despite this stylization of form, there may have been some similarity to actual debate techniques and issues; cf. Stylianopoulos, Justin, 124.

1651

See Baumgarten, «Source.»

1652

Cf. Hirschman, «Units»; Manns, «Altercation.»

1653

Hickling, «Attitudes,» 352; P. F. Ellis, John, 5. Thus John restates and reapplies traditions in targumic style; see Howard, Gospel, 229; Goppelt, Theology, 1:15.

1654

Hickling, «Attitudes,» 352, although we disagree with Hickling's emphasis on discontinuity; cf. also Ellis, Genius, 5.

1655

Herford, Christianity, 365–81, esp. 371–72, shows that they were not always gnostics, although they may have been more often than Herford allows. R. Jose ben Halaftás retort to the «matrona» need not be antignostic (against Agus, «Gnosticism»; Gershenzon and Slomovic, «Debate»), though it could have been, and the creation mysticism has pregnostic roots and need not be initially antignostic (against Thoma, «Reaktionen»). Threats from Christian gnosticism or its Jewish equivalent may well have been real, and mixed with the Jewish-Christian challenge (cf. Basser, «Practices»).

1656

E.g., m. Ber. 9:5; t. Ber. 6:21; b. Sanh. 90b (purportedly Tannaitic).

1657

E.g., b. Ber. 29a [of John Hyrcanus!]; Moore, «Canon,» 106–8; Urbach, «Self-Isolation,» 290; Pritz, Nazarene Christianity, 103); nevertheless, identifying groups like Essenes in the rabbinic literature (as Lieberman, «Scrolls,» seeks to do) is still more problematic.

1658

E.g., Sandmel, Judaism, 391,476 n. 32

1659

In earlier texts they were probably always Jewish (Jocz, People, 52; Abrahams, Studies, 2:63), although some passages could imply otherwise (b. cAbod. Zar. 4a; Sank. 97a [purportedly Tannaitic]; 99a; Song Rab. 2:13, §4 [purportedly Tannaitic]; cf. in Herford, Christianity, 207–10): references to the Roman Empire converting to minuth are necessarily from the later period, after Christians had begun to achieve power in the West.

1660

See Schiffman, «Crossroads,» 149; Kimelman, «Birkath,» 232; Bowman, Gospel, 2; Pritz, Christianity, 103; Abrahams, Studies, 2:63; Herford, Christianity, 365–81; Dalman, Jesus, 36–37; Carroll, «Exclusion,» 22. For archaeological evidence from the late first to mid-second century, cf. Smith, «Sarcophagus.»

1661

See Herford, Christianity, 137–45, 388; Moore, Judaism, 2:250; Dalman, Jesus, 36–37. Falk, Jesus, 70–82, is too speculative here.

1662

Pliny Ep. 10.96, attests the detention of Christians in Asia.

1663

B. Meg. 23a (late Tannaitic).

1664

B. Tacan. 27b (early third century); cf. Herford, Christianity, 171–73, though note Baggati, Church, 10; Marmorstein, «Attitude,» 388.

1665

Cf. John 20:1; Rev 1:10. The latter's reference to «the Lord's Day» probably adapts the image from regular days of pagan worship (see t. cAbod. Zar. 1:4; Deissmann, Light, 358–59; Beasley-Murray, Revelation, 65; Ford, Revelation, 382) and may play on the eschatological sense of «the day of the Lord» (cf. Shepherd, Liturgy, 78; Bowman, Drama, 23). While most scholars assume this is Sunday (e.g., Cullmann, Worship, 10–11; Rissi, Time, 28; Nock, Paul, 58; cf. Bruce, History, 428), the text itself is unclear (Strand, «Day»), clarified only by patristic references ( Vanni, «Giorno»; contrast Lewis, «Ignatius»). But Sunday as a worship day apparently did not give way completely to Sunday as a new Sabbath till Constantine (Chadwick, Church, 128; cf. Bacchiocchi, Sabbath).

1666

B. Sanh. 99a.

1667

Bonsirven, Judaism, 57–58; cf. 2 Bar. 48and references in Montefiore and Loewe, Anthology, 95, 103. Moral and theological apostates such as Sadducees were excluded (m. Sanh. 10:1; Sanders, Paul, 369–70).

1668

Jeremias, Jerusalem, 246,248; idem, «Qumran Texts,» 69; Goppelt, Judaism, 52–53.

1669

See the stronger critique in Sanders, Paul, 152ff.

1670

E.g., b. Roš Haš. 17a; for racial purity, see Jeremias, Jerusalem, 270.

1671

The term originally simply meant free men, but changed in time (De Vaux, Israel, 70–71) to lower-class peasants, perhaps illiterate in Pharisaic Torah (Sandmel, Judaism, 166–67), though they could have been God-fearing (Finkelstein, Pharisees, 2:754).

1672

E.g., m. "Abot 3:11; b. Pesah. 49b.

1673

M. Demai 2:2; Macas. S. 3:3; Hag. 2:7; Tehar. 4:5, 8:3, 5; t. Ahilot 5:11; b. Ned. 20a.

1674

See Moore, Judaism, 1:60.

1675

M. Git. 5:9.

1676

Urbach, Sages, l:632ff.

1677

Ibid., 633.

1678

Jeremias, Parables, 132; idem, Theology, 118.

1679

Especially for the period to which Jeremias refers, i.e., the ministry of Jesus, well before 70, when Pharisaism was a definite minority lifestyle, attested by Josephus's numbers. In the Johannine period, Pharisaic influence would have been felt more strongly from Yavneh.

1680

Simon, Sects, 15; cf. m. Qidd. 4:14.

1681

1QS 8.9–10; 9.6; CD 3.12–19; 1QM 3.13. See further comments in Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 117; Simon, Sects, 48; Jeremias, «Qumran,» 69; Goppelt, Judaism, 33; Sanders, Paul, 242–49; cf. idem, Law, 175–76.

1682

Cf. Jeremias, Theology, 171–72.

1683

Davies, Paul, 77–79. For one view of the OT remnant, see Hasel, Remnant.

1684

There are eleven in Eph 1:1–14 alone; cf., e.g., Cerfaux, Church, 143–44.

1685

Brown, Community, 48; cf. Sandmel, Genius, 21.

1686

See Boccaccini, Judaism, 16–19, 215; idem, «Judaisms.» Genuine examples of anti-Judaism, e.g., Gentiles who treated Moses as «a deceiver» or claimed that Jewish laws taught immorality (Josephus Ag. Ap. 2.145) place merely intra-Jewish conflicts in more appropriate historical perspective.

1687

So also Knight, «Anti-Semitism,» 83; see on «the Jews,» below, pp. 225–27.

1688

For a treatment of one of the major issues involved in the debate regarding continuity and discontinuity, see under «The Jews,» below, pp. 214–28.

1689

Whitacre, Polemic, 25; cf. Bowker, «Origin,» 407; Pancaro, «People.»

1690

Cf. the similar issue in Hebrews; Justin Dial 47.

1691

Painter, «Israel,» 112, although he subordinates ecclesiology too much to Christology; it had become an independent issue in itself.

1692

Herford, Christianity, 247–51, 290–91; Neusner, Beginning, 12; Cohen, Maccabees, 167–68; Pancaro, «People,» 114–29. Painter, «Israel,» 103–12, is also helpful here, although he sees too much discontinuity between Israel and the disciples, and subordinates ecclesiology to Christology too much.

1693

        B. Yebam. 102b.

1694

        B. Sanh. 39ab; the dialogue is, of course, a setup favoring the rabbi to win.

1695

        Song Rah. 7:3, §3; Pesiq. Rab. 5:1. Cf. b. Sanh. 44a, where the rabbis must argue that Israel's election can never be revoked.

1696

In Justin Dia1. 10, Tryphós objection to Christianity was its purported rejection of the Law. For the later use of oral Torah to counter heretical use of Torah, see, e.g., b. Šabb. 31a (purportedly Tannaitic); Exod. Rab. 47:1. But minim sometimes knew Scripture better than the rabbis (b. cAbod. Zar. 4a), and pagans argued against Israel from "your Torah» (Gen. Rab. 61:7).

1697

B. Menah. 42b.

1698

B. Ber. 12a; p. Ber. 1:4; Urbach, Sages, 1:361–62; cf. Oesterley, Liturgy, 81–82.

1699

B. Ber. 10a; Herford, Christianity, 308–15; Bowman, Gospel, 3–6; perhaps b. Roš Haš. 17a. More than likely, Law-keeping Jewish Christians were receiving bad press due to the polemics of their Gentile siblings; cf. Pritz, Christianity, 58, 110 on the Nazarenes.

1700

See esp. Pancaro, Law.

1701

        It was not always specifically Christian: m. Sank 10:1; b. Sanh. 90b; p. Sank 10:1, §8; Ecc1. Rab. 12:12, §1 (though Sirach is quoted earlier in this document!); cf. 4 Ezra 14:45–47.

1702

        M. Sanh. 10:1; t. Šabb. 13:5; b. Hag. 15b (purportedly Tannaitic); Šabb. 116a (purportedly Tannaitic); Num. Rab. 14:4; Pesiq. Rab. 3:2. See Herford, Christianity, 146–55; Schiffman, Jew, 62–64. Urbach, «Self-Isolation,» 290–91, thinks the gilionim are not the Gospels, but rather the minims copies of Scripture. Contrast the horror of burning real books of the Law in 1Macc 1:56; Josephus War 2.229–231.

1703

        Sipre Deut. 331.1.2; b. Ber. 56b (purportedly Tannaitic); Hu1. 13a; many readings of b. Hor. lia (cf. Lev. Rab. 2:9!); cf. Herford, Christianity, 181–91, 325–26, and particularly 215–18.

1704

        T. Šabb. 13:5; "Abot R. Nat. 16 A; b. Git. 45b; Šabb. 116a (purportedly Tannaitic); cf. t. Β. Mes?a 2:33; Herford, Christianity 173–80; Schiffmann, «Crossroads,» 144–46.

1705

B. Ber. 10a (purportedly Tannaitic); Roš Haš 17a; cf. Herford, Christianity 118–25.

1706

        Exod. Rab. 19:4; cf. Herford, Christianity 191–92.

1707

Cf. b. Sanh. 99a.

1708

Christ's significance in this way provided a strong deterrent to apostasy both in the Fourth Gospel and in Hebrews (Painter, «Israel,» 112). Matsunaga, ««Theos,»» thinks that faith in Jesus» Deity gave them reason to withstand persecution; Herford, Christianity, 383–84, that their high Christology is what made them minim. Fuller, ««Jews,»» 35–36, also sees Christology as centra1. The view of Fortna, «Christology,» may thus be contested.

1709

A motif in Revelation (Rev 5:8–14; 7:9–10; 22:3; cf. 1 En. 48:5–6 in the Similitudes); also the pagan perception of Christianity: Pliny Ep. 10.96; cf. Lucian Peregr. 11.

1710

Justin claimed that rabbis conceded the Messiah's deity in some sense (Dia1. 68:9), but this is plainly false (see Higgins, «Belief,» 305); the Fourth Gospel itself criticizes existing Jewish views as inadequate (cf. Jonge, «Expectations,» 266).

1711

Cf. Jonge, «Expectations,» 266.

1712

Cf. Whitacre, Polemic, 17.

1713

Cf. McGrath, Apologetic Christology, who argues that Johannine Christology developed in conflict with the synagogue, but much of the Christology was pre-Johannine.

1714

Herford, Christianity, 378–79, 387.

1715

Ibid., 203–6, although m. Meg. 4:8–9 may not refer to the Jewish Christians as he thinks.

1716

Note the charge of deicide, e.g., in Melitós Paschal Homily, 96 (in Hawthorne, «Translation,» 172).

1717

M. Sanh. 4:5; Sipre Deut. 329.1.1; b. Sanh. 38ab (mainly third century but with some second-century tradition); Pesiq. Rab. 21:6; 3 En. 16(but cf. 12:5); cf. b. Menah. 110a (purportedly Tannaitic); Justin Dia1. 55, 63; Klausner, Jesus, 34–35. Akibás famous error with the two thrones in Daniel almost certainly addresses this charge (b. Sanh. 38b; Hag. 14a). Exod. Rab. 29accepts the late Christian equation of God and «Son of God» but rejects the possibility of God having a son. Cf. Irsai, ««ny mkzb hw.»» Some evidence in the Palestinian Targumim, however, calls into question whether the «ditheists» were always Christians; gnostic dualists are sometimes possible (cf. Bassler, «Cain»).

1718

Martyn, «Glimpses,» 162. John uses the same formula to cite both Jesus and the OT (Smith, Parallels, 194).

1719

Segal, «Ruler,» 254.

1720

The rabbis probably «conflated» their polemic against various groups of adversaries (Goodman, State, 105).

1721

Segal, «Ruler,» 255; cf. Dunn, Partings, 207–29. Tg. Isa. on 9is reworded to avoid the idea that the royal child is God; Gen. Rab. 1and p. Ber. 9:1, §6 guard against multiple powers in creation; p. Šabb. 6:9, §3, rejects the «son of God» idea that could be read into Dan 3:25; and b. Hag. 14a; Sanh. 38b report the hostile reaction to Akibás view of two thrones in heaven.

1722

Cf. Ashton, Understanding, 150.

1723

See Keener, «Pneumatology,» 77–94 (assuming also the connection between the Spirit and prophecy, 69–77).

1724

Schäfer, Vorstellung, 89–114, esp. 116–33. Schäfer is convincing despite the critique of Reif, «Review,» 158, who complains that Schäfer «offers no concrete evidence to convince the reader that his interpretation is preferable to that of Urbach» and others who suggest that Judaism was polemicizing against Christianity. Undoubtedly the influence worked in both directions.

1725

See Burge, Community, 171.

1726

Flusser, Judaism, 54; cf. Coppens, «Don,» 209; Foerster, «Geist» (though it was especially on the Teacher of Righteousness and those of special position). As the early Jewish-Christian material in Ascen. Isa. 9declares, the Holy Spirit speaks in all the righteous.

1727

See Daniel, «Prophètes,» 59–64.

1728

Cf. Aune, Prophecy, 104; Greenspahn, «Prophecy»; Keener, Spirit, 15–16. Some Gentiles also believed that oracles had declined in their era (Lucan C.W. 5.139–140; Plutarch Obsol), though their assertion is questionable.

1729

Davies, «Mekilta.» Davies suggests that this accounts for the greater discussion of the Spirit in the Mekilta than in later documents («Mekilta,» 104).

1730

Glatzer, «Prophecy,» 115–16,121–22. In contrast, the rabbis seem to have effected a compromise to resolve the tension between spontaneity and orderly prayer in early Judaism (Cohen, Maccabees, 67).

1731

Bamberger, «Prophet,» 306–7.

1732

Josephus War 6.285–288.

1733

See, e.g., Sipre Deut. 344.3.2. (P. Hor. 3.1, §2 might be relevant, but the «ruler» to which it refers is probably Judah ha-Nasi himself.)

1734

Josephus lists numerous local decrees which probably functioned as precedents by which Diaspora Jews sought to defend their status; he also reports the desire of Alexandrian Jews to be equal citizens with the Greeks who dominated the city's cultural elite; see Rabello, «Condition»; Rajak, «Charter.»

1735

Cf. Suetonius Dom. 12.

1736

        Revelation, 194.

1737

Dodd, Tradition, 120, suggests that it must be pre-70, but the decades shortly after 70 would function just as wel1. The period following 135, after the demise of the Bar Kokhba revolt, witnessed a consolidation of rabbinic antipathy toward inadequately substantiated messianic claims.

1738

Meeks, Prophet-King, 25.

1739

Egyptian («The Instruction for King Meri-Ka-Re,» ANET 416; cf. also enthronement oracles, e.g., «The Divine Nomination of Thut-Mose III» and «The Divine Nomination of an Ethiopian King,» ANET 446–48; Wilson, «Prophecy,» 3–16, 10); Ugaritic (Craigie, Ugarit, 35); Mari Moran, «Prophecy,» 17; Craghan, «Mari,"48, and Paul, «Prophets,» 1160, citing ARM.T 13.23,114); Akkadian («Assyrian Oracles,» ANET 449–50); Assyrian («Babylonian and Assyrian Historical Texts,» ANET274–77,281,286,292); classical Greece (Nilsson, Cults, 123–42). Cf. Ross, «Prophecy,» 17; Hayes, «Oracles,» 81–85.

1740

See, e.g., Bremmer, «Prophets.»

1741

Collins, Oracles, 4–5 for Mithridates; 9–12 for Persia; 12–19 for Egypt. In general, cf. Aune, Prophecy, 73–77.

1742

Collins, Oracles, 117. Not surprisingly, Tiberius banished all Sibylline oracles considered spurious (Dio Cassius 57.18.5).

1743

This was true not only under Domitian; cf. Tacitus Ann. 14.22; Suetonius Nero 36; MacMullen, Enemies, 133; Kee, Origins, 71. Some philosophers also suffered at Domitian's hands; cf. lones, Dio Chrysostom, 45; Aulus Gellius 15.11.3–5; Philostratus Vit. Apoll, books 7–8.

1744

Suetonius Dom. 12; Williams, «Domitian»; though cf. Ramsay, Church, 268; Reicke, Era, 286; Josephus Life 429 (Josephus found a patron in the Flavians). The disdain was evidently reciprocated; cf. Sib. Or. 5.39–46 (toward Rome in general, among the early sources, cf., e.g., 4 Ezra 6:9; 11–12; m. "Abot 1:10; 2:3; Sipre Deut. 317.4.2; 320.2.3; Mendels, «Empires»).

1745

Josephus Ag. Ap. 2.73.

1746

See, e.g., Robinson, «Oracles»; Hemer, Letters, 119; Collins, Oracles, 317.

1747

Though others oppose this view, e.g., Moffatt, «Revelation,» 360.

1748

If the angelic revelation in 1anticipates a literal threat. Cf. Gal 4:9–10; Knox, Gentiles, 108.

1749

So Whitacre, John, 31–32, citing esp. 1and 3:13; cf. also DeConick, Mystics.

1750

We do not include oracular shrines here, only religious associations, which are more comparable to the community-based congregations of Christians springing up throughout the empire.

1751

So Flusser, Judaism, 636, though he may overstate the case.

1752

See Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 11.

1753

B. Ber. 24b; Finegan, Records, 59; cf. Herford, Christianity, 203–6, 387; Bruce, History, 386. The usefulness of Herford's citation of m. Meg. 4:8–9 (Christianity, 203) depends on whether it really applies to the Jewish Christians, which may be doubted; his arguments on 204–6 are better (although in b. Ber. 24b loud praying suggests unbelief; in t. Ber. 1onés praying style shows whether he is a disciple or an ignoramus; allegedly tannaitic tradition in p. Ber. 2:3, §3 prohibits those with accents from leading prayers lest they mispronounce a word; cf. t. Ber. 3:3); cf. 387, especially the reference to Jerome.

1754

The same metaphor of «keys,» «opening,» and «shutting» appears in Matt 16:19, 23:13. Cf. Moffatt, «Revelation,» 366–67.

1755

Witherington, Wisdom, 38.

1756

Davies, Rhetoric, 296.

1757

The objection that one who followed a false messiah would not be excluded if he practiced Torah (Davies, Rhetoric, 297) falls back on rabbinic evidence and may miss possible status differentiation in the community (R. Akiba was by this point part of the elite).

1758

Banishment also appears in philosophic (e.g., Iamblichus V.R 34.246) and early Christian (1Cor 5:5; 1Tim 1:20; Matt 18:15–17; for a lesser form, see 2 Thess 3:14–15) communities.

1759

See Brown, John, 1:374; Ridderbos, Paul, 472; Edersheim, Life, 407. In the DSS, see 1QS 8; Harrison, «Rites,» 27.

1760

Swete, Discourse, 110; Barrett, John, 361, and John and Judaism, 69, thinks this herem presupposes but is stronger than the Birkath; Hare, Persecution, 56, thinks that the Birkath itself was sufficient.

1761

As argued by Brown, Community, 22; Smith, John, 65; idem, Johannine Christianity, 23; Hoskyns, Gospel, 356; Schnackenburg, John, 3:21; esp. Martyn, Theology, 66. Robinson, Redating, 273, questions Martyns «highly imaginative reconstruction,» preferring to date John in the sixties.

1762

Whitacre, Polemic, 6.

1763

Dodd, Tradition, 410; Beasley-Murray, John, 277–78; cf. Ridderbos, John, 343; Smith, John (1999), 292. Cf. also Mark 13:9; Matt 10:17; Luke 21:12; Dodd notes that Christians suffered beatings (Acts 5:40; 2Cor 11:24) but not exclusion before Luke wrote.

1764

See Painter, John, 13; Bonsirven, Judaism, 130; Simon, Sects, 136; Goppelt, Judaism, 190; Hanhart, «Structure,» 45; Lindars, John, 54; Burridge, One Jesus, 91; Smith, John (1999), 36–38. Mandell, «Tax,» proposes a similar function for m. Seqa1. 1:5, but his case appears dubious, requiring «Samaritan» to stand for «Jewish Christian.»

1765

Martyn, «Glimpses,» 173; for importance of the prayer, see, e.g., Gen. Rab. 69:4; Lev. Rab. 1:8.

1766

E.g., m. Tamid 5:1; the themes appear in many pre-Christian documents (Oesterley, Liturgy, 54–67; Levine, «Synagogue,» 19; cf. Arbel, «Liturgy,» 650–51). Sanders, Jesus to Mishnah, 72, cites m. Ber. 4as implying that «something close to a set text» existed at Yavneh; cf. idem, Judaism, 203, where he contends instead for basic themes.

1767

For evidence that does not suggest a common liturgy, cf. Levine, «Synagogue,» 19–20; Cohen, «Evidence,» 175; thus Talmon, «Prayer,» 273–74, thinks Qumran's early institutional prayer (1QS 9.26–10.3; 4Q504; 4Q507–9; see Abegg, «Liturgy,» 648–49) unusua1. For evidence that could favor some common Jewish liturgy, cf. Schiffman, «Scrolls»; Maier, «Kult»; Goodman, State, 86. One can only be sure that the example in Harding, «Prayer,» predates the fifth century C.E.

1768

On the analogy with traditional Greek and Roman prayers, on which see Van der Horst, «Prayer.»

1769

If they did it privately, it was nevertheless in the place of public assembly, large enough to hold Tiberiass citizens (Josephus Life277).

1770

Often estimated ca. 85 C.E.; cf. Herford, Christianity, 125–35; Parkes, Conflict, 77–78; Carroll, «Exclusion,» 21.

1771

B. Ber. 28b.

1772

Purportedly Tannaitic tradition in b. Ber. 28b; b. Ber. 29a. On Samuel ha-Katon, see Song Rab. 8:9, §3.

1773

His temporal coincidence with Hillel the Elder, as a younger contemporary (p. Sotah 9:16, §2; cAbod. Zar. 3:1, §2; Hor. 3:5, §3) would establish the case (his existence at Yavneh, e.g., Song Rab. 8:9, §3, is not in dispute), but there are enough anachronisms in rabbinic literature to keep the matter from being certain (e.g., Sipre Deut. 343.1.5 attributes the Shemoneh Esreh itself to the former prophets; in Gen. Rab. 69:4, an Amora argues that there are eighteen benedictions because the patriarchs appear eighteen times in the Torah; in Tg. Ps.-J. on Exod 18Moses decrees the prayers for the synagogues; p. Ber. 4:3, §1 connects it with the 18 vertabrae of the spinal column; cf. p. Tacan. 2:2, §2; Lev. Rab. 1:8; Tg. Amos 6:3; Tg. Zechariah 9:17).

1774

Herford, Christianity, 129–32; cf. Pritz, Christianity, 103; Parkes, Conflict, 77–78.

1775

See also Katz, «Separation,» 63; Schiffman, «Crossroads,» 151–52; Carroll, «Exclusion,» 21.

1776

As often noted, e.g., Joubert, «Contention.»

1777

Schiffman, «Crossroads,» 151, observes that the Amida was «the only thrice-daily recitation in the synagogue services» (fitting Jeromés later testimony, and t. Ber. 2:9; 6:24; cf. p. Ber. 4:1, 3; Tacan. 2:2, §6).

1778

Horbury, «Benediction,» 19; Barnard, «Judaism,» 400; idem, Justin, 44–45; Shotwell, Exegesis, 83–84; Pancaro, Law, 253; Williams, Justin, xxxii; cf. Bauer, Orthodoxy, 274; Parkes, Conflict, 79; Flannery, Anguish, 29. Kimelman, «Evidence,» 235–38, accepts Epiphanius's and Jeromés evidence, but not that of Justin or Origen; but even if Justin misunderstood the implications of the curse, it is unlikely that he created the view ex nihilo; the Jewish Christians who heard it apparently interpreted it as applying to themselves.

1779

See Katz, «Separation,» 46–49. There may, however, be early evidence for the full herem: see Horbury, «Extirpation»; cf. R. Eliezer in p. Mo"ed Qat. 3:1, §6. Grounds for excommunication eventually could include casting doubt on a ruling of the Sages, even if one did so on the basis of the Sages» words (p. Móed Qat. 3:1, §§7,9).

1780

Katz, «Separation,» 51; Hare, Persecution, 56; Barrett, John and Judaism, 69.

1781

«Synode,» 61. Stemberger, «Synode,» also believes that it was not mainly against Christians. Finkel, «Liturgy,» thinks the minim rejected are those that deny the resurrection and Jerusalem's restoration.

1782

Yee, Feasts, 24, suggests that the object of the execration went beyond the Christians, but rightly observes that they would see it as directed toward themselves.

1783

See Van der Horst, «Birkath.»

1784

        Polemic, S.

1785

For heretics as slanderers, see p. Ber. 4:3's most likely reading (with t. Ber. 3:25). Finkelstein, Making, 266–67, suggests that the blessing of the resurrection may have been directed against the Sadducees; Flusser, Jesus, 638, dates the Birkath to the Maccabean period as originally a Pharisaic, anti-Essene prayer (cf. Flusser, «Mqst»). The hope of redemption is, however, paramount in the Amida (Kimelman, « Amidah»).

1786

Despite a possible medieval application to Mandaeans (Zalcman, "Noserim»).

1787

Urbach, «Self-Isolation,» 288; Jocz, People, 54–57; Flusser, Judaism, 638; and Marmorstein, «Attitude,» 389, believe that the Nozrim were specified later (cf. idem, «Amidah,» 417); Flusser dates the original Birkath to the Maccabean period (Judaism, 638).

1788

Schoeps, Christenheit, 55–56; Moore, «Canon,» 111–12, suggest that the reading Nozrim appears in the curse from an early period (for patristic support, see Carroll, «Exclusion,» 22; Townsend, «Jews,» 85–86; Pritz, Christianity, 104–5).

1789

See Katz, «Separation,» 69–74; Segal, «Ruler,» 256–57 (both allowing that it included Jewish Christians); Urbach, «Self-Isolation,» 288; Sandmel, Judaism, 149–50 (though polemic against dualists is probably less likely in this period). It may have been anti-Essene and become anti-Christian (Flusser, «Mqst,» citing 4QMMT), though certainly before the late third century C.E. (pace Flusser).

1790

Schiffman, Jew, 53–61; Herford, Christianity, 207–9, 365–81; Dalman, Jesus in Talmud, 36–37; Carroll, «Exclusion,» 22 (although Jerome is probably mistaken); Scott, Customs, 366–67. For minim being in the malediction, see Pritz, Christianity, 103–4; Horbury, «Benediction,» 19–61, makes a quite strong case for the Jewish Christians being included in the curse.

1791

Cf. Lerle, «Reformen»; Reicke, Era, 305. Competition would become a danger both because of challenges to institutional authority and because of missionary zeal among Gentiles; both of these were fueled by a sectarian mentality compatible with Greco-Roman perceptions of Jewish monotheism but too narrow for the rabbinic authorities.

1792

Rabbinic estimates such as t. Pisha 4are fanciful; even Josephus's figures (cf. Byatt, «Numbers») appear somewhat inflated. Extrapolating from archaeological and other evidence Jeremias, Jerusalem, 77–84, suggests 25,000; Wilkinson, «Water Supply,» more accurately estimates about 76,000; Broshi, «Jérusalem»; idem, «Population,» 14, has about 80,000; but it is, as Bruce, History, 39, notes, difficult to estimate.

1793

Setzer, Responses, 91, following Heinemann, Prayer, 225, thinks that they fixed the blessings» general subject matter but local communities determined specific matters.

1794

As contended by Brown, Community, 66–67; Parkes, Conflict, 79.

1795

The evidence of Binyamin, "Birkath,» may not be conclusive, but he is probably right that different forms were adapted to the situations of local communities; cf. also Pritz, Christianity, 104–6, who rightly observes that it was known only in the East.

1796

Its very location had always given its teachers a privileged place in the opinions of the Diaspora Jews; cf., e.g., the Letter of Aristeas; cf. the privilege Galileans accorded Judean representatives in Josephus's accounts.

1797

Whether the conflict was widespread (cf. Whitacre, Polemic, 9; Martyn, «Glimpses,» 173), the conflict's effects would have been widespread (Katz, «Separation,» 45–46; Parkes, Conflict, 79). On the authority of the Sanhédrin in various periods, see Safrai, «Relations,» 204–12.

1798

        Sipre Deut. 43.3.7.

1799

T. cOrlah 1(in R. Jose ha-Galilís name, thus early second century); Sanh. 3:10; Sipre Deut. 59.1.2; 188.1.2; perhaps p. B. Qam. 4:1, §3; Git. 5:6, §3; although relations do not always appear good (t. cAbod. Zar. 4:6). Diaspora pilgrims had to abide by the calendrical codes established in m. Roš Ha§. as well, if Yavneh controlled the Holy Land. Gager, Anti-Semitism, 89, thinks the Nasi gained recognition in the Diaspora only after 135, but after that war it would seem unlikely for Diaspora Judaism to begin looking to a Palestinian authority.

1800

        Pesiq. Rab Kah. 15:5. CIJ 1:438–39, §611, could refer to this, although the editor, following Graetz, may well be correct that merely local officials are in view. Eventually Talmudic Judaism influenced the Diaspora; but it is doubtful how much influence Palestinian rabbis held in this period.

1801

Aune, Environment, 180. See esp. Safrai, «Relations,» 204–7, citing a great quantity of rabbinic literature, but also Letter of Aristeas, Josephus (Ag. Ap. 1.32–33), and Acts (28:21); cf. Safrai, «Self-Government,» 404–8. Traces of rabbinic traditions in Philo may suggest that the Pharisees had much in common with a broader spectrum of Jewish halakic and haggadic tradition, but Philo may also have had some acquaintance with Palestinian tradition; cf. Bamberger, «Philo»; Belkin, Philo.

1802

This is clear in all the pre-70 references, as pointed out by Sanders, Jesus to the Mishnah, 255–57. Despite Romés apparent privileging of the Yavneh academy, it would have taken time for the Diaspora synagogues to have transferred their former allegiance to temple Judaism to the authority of the Palestinian rabbis. Indeed, given nonrabbinic practices even in Amoraic Palestine, we may question whether others ever ceded the same authority to the rabbis which they ascribed to themselves; but the existence of Babylonian Amoraim building on Palestinian Tannaim suggests some degree of centralization in the Tannaitic period.

1803

        Theology, 42–62. Whitacre, Polemic, 6–10, accepts it only as probable. For an extensive study of the curse itself, see esp. Jocz, People, 52–57, particularly his conclusions on 57, with which I am in basic agreement.

1804

Setzer, Responses, 91.

1805

Cf. likewise Davies and Allison, Matthew, 1:136; Overman, Gospel and Judaism, 54–55; Stanton, New People, 281.

1806

Cf., e.g., Hagner, «Sitz,» 41–42; Ridderbos, John, 342–43.

1807

Kimelman, «Evidence,» 234; Cohen, Maccabees, 227, believe that the problems the Johannine community encountered were purely loca1. Many Johannine scholars allow this possibility (e.g., Rensberger, Faith, 26).

1808

This is widely agreed; see Katz, «Separation,» 50; Sandmel, Judaism, 391; Whitacre, Polemic, 8. Cf. Young, «Cult,» 331–33; Justin Dia1. 17 and other early Christian sources; compare the view of Rost, Einleitung, 97, on the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch. Sonne, «Use» 163–68, disagrees with Lieberman's view of rabbinic sources» sympathy for Christian martyrs.

1809

Cf. Segal, «Ruler,» 252. One may adduce a later parallel in the pain experienced by the Karaites after the rabbinic herem against them; cf. Wieder, «Exegesis,» 93–94.

1810

See above; even in the Martyrdom of Polycarp, Jewish involvement in the execution is limited to their role as delatores, or accusers. Cf. Brown, Community, 43.

1811

Meyers, «State,» 134–35; Meyers and White, «Jews and Christians»; Kinzig, «Non-separation»; Hoppe, «Synagogue»; cf. Mancini, Discoveries; Saldarini, Community, 18–26.

1812

E.g., Carson, Moo, and Morris, Introduction, 171; Carson, John, 8,87–95; Milne, Message, 24–25.

1813

Cf. Von Wahlde, «Structure,» 583–84; Grässer, «Polemik,» 90.

1814

Vermes, Religion, 213.

1815

For references, see Sikes, «Anti-Semitism,» 23; Wilson, «Anti-Judaism,» 28.

1816

This is often noted. See Michaels, «Anti-Semitism,» 12; Baum, Jews, 98; Kysar, Maverick Gospel, 56; Yamauchi, «Concord,» 161; Parkes, Conflict, ix; Smith, Theology, 169–70.

1817

Lowe, «ΙΟΥΔΑΙΟΙ,» 130; cf. Gager, Anti-Semitism, 151. Winter, Trial, 115, thinks that John develops the theme of Jewish enmity beyond Mark. The Johannine «trajectory» later becomes outrightly anti-Jewish (Acts of John 94).

1818

Cf., e.g., the view in Selkin, «Exegesis,» 166.

1819

Schottroff, «Aspects,» 205–7.

1820

Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:695.

1821

E.g., Diogenes Ep. 28, to the Greeks.

1822

On the community of Belial, see 1QH 2.22–23; cf. 1QS 1.22–23; against the priesthood, see, e.g., lQpHab 9.4–5; 2 Bar. 10:18; further support in Keener, Matthew, 536, 561, 613–14.

1823

In the Scrolls, see lQpHab 8.8–12; 9.4–7; 12.5; 4QpNah 1.11; between Pharisees and Sadducees, Josephus Ant. 18.17; m. Yad. 4:7; t. Hag. 3:35; Nid. 5:3; see further documentation in Keener, Matthew, 352–53. Later rabbis even accused some Shammaites of such violence against Hillelites (p. Šabb. 1:4).

1824

E.g., Vouga, «Antijudaismus»; Harrington, «Jews»; idem, «Problem,"4; Kysar, «Polemic»; Kusmirek, «Zydzi»; also Porsch, «Antijudaismus» (adding John's dualism that makes «Jews» part of the «world»); Dunn, Partings, 143, 156–57; idem, «Embarrassment»; Motyer, «New Start.» Those who believe that John's community is Christian but no longer Jewish, however, must view the polemic as anti-Jewish (Culpepper, «Culture,» 112–16), or even part of the Gospel's metaphysical agenda (Kelber, «Metaphysics,» 131–36, 147–52).

1825

E.g., Reinhartz, «Jews,» 356, argues that John's usage of «Jews» really was anti-Jewish. Nevertheless, Reinhartz, in «Reads,» hears the Gospel sympathetically, like listening to a friend with whom one disagrees. This is a helpful reading in our postmodern (and hopefully increasingly post-Christian-anti-Semitism) context; but it is not meant to reflect the likely responses in a first-century polemical context (just as less sympathetic anti-Semitic readings would not).

1826

Burridge, Gospels, 182–84.

1827

Cf. also the plebeians and patricians in Dionysius of Halicarnassus R.A. 9.39.1–6; Romans and Carthaginians in Livy 21.1.3; or the even greater evenhandedness of Homer's portrayal of Greek and Trojan heroism in the Iliad, which allowed such later works as Euripides Trojan Women and the Roman adoption of Aeneas (e.g., Virgil Aen.).

1828

Such poetic descriptions are inappropriate within history (Hist. 8), though praise is permissible within careful bounds (Hist. 9).

1829

E.g., Marcius as the greatest general of his era, but with fatal character flaws (Dionysius of Halicarnassus R.A. 8.60.1–2; 8.61.1–3).

1830

Davies, Rhetoric, 157 (though noting that Jewish individuals like Nicodemus and Joseph are more well-rounded).

1831

Many minor characters in the Gospel are round and «ambiguous,» qualifying its moral dualism (see Grant, «Ambiguity»).

1832

Aristotle Poet. 18.19,1456a declares that the chorus should be treated as an actor.

1833

Noted also by others, e.g., Beasley-Murray, John, lxxxviii-lxxxix.

1834

This use also appears in other early Christian texts, where it virtually functions as an ethnic adjective, «Jewish,» e.g., Acts 13:5; 14:1; 17:1,10.

1835

Cf, e.g., CIJ 1:495, §683; 1:509, §697; 2:13–14, §746 (Ephesus), 158, §972 (Palestine); CPJ 1:134–35, §9; 1:149–50, §18; all Jacob's descendants in Tg. Neof. 1 on Gen 49:8; Gen. Rab. 98:6. Cf. also Overman, Community, 401.

1836

Ashton, Understanding, 153, citing, e.g., usage in 1Maccabees.

1837

Saldarini, Community, 34–36. Cf. Tomson, «Israel»; Acts 28:19.

1838

See Kraemer, «Jew.»

1839

For other counts, all detecting a similar pattern including the use for Jesus» opponents, see Baum, Gospel, 101; Fuller, ««Jews,»» 32–33; Bratcher, «Jews,» 404–9.

1840

Fortna, «Locale,» 92. Fortna identifies nearly every use of «the Jews» as Johannine redaction (89). Von Wahlde, «Terms,» 242–51, employs a supposed distinction between the use of «the Jews» and «the Pharisees» to distinguish between different literary strata (see also White, «Jews»), but fails to offer persuasive reasons why John should have used both terms in the same passages. The use of both terms more likely indicates the specific party intended by «the Jews» (cf. Whitacre, Polemic, 21–22).

1841

See Ashton, Studying, 69–70.

1842

Cf. Söding, «Kann aus Nazareth» (contending that Jesus» Jewishness is part of John's Christology).

1843

Judeans and Galileans might distinguish their regions, but from the Diaspora standpoint Galilee was part of «Judea» (e.g., Pliny Nat. 5.15.70).

1844

On such claims, cf. Whitacre, Polemic, 10, 23; Baum, Gospel, 106. It may be true that Jewish Christians were not yet officially excluded from Judaism (see Katz, «Issues,» 50; Schiffman, «Crossroads,» 153–55), but the denial of their orthodoxy would have contributed to a popular, functional denial of their Jewishness.

1845

Schiffman, Jew, 48–53,61, though he notes that the rabbis believed them excluded from the covenant.

1846

Ibid., 75–78. Even then, I doubt that they stopped perceiving themselves as Jewish.

1847

Such rhetoric appeared also in urban politics, e.g., Cornelius Nepos 7 (Alcibiades), 4.6.

1848

The view is noted in Michaels, «Anti-Semitism,» 12–13. ÓNeill, «Jews,» excises them as scribal glosses based on their supposed redundancy. For a complete survey of views, see White, «Jews,» 14–83.

1849

Burton, "Plan,» 36.

1850

Vasholz, «Anti-Semitic,» reasonably doubts John's anti-Semitism because he was Jewish. Tomson, «Jews,» 339–40, thinks that the term «Jews» was for non-Jewish hearers and that the Gospel is anti-Jewish like the Gospel of Peter or the Acts of John.

1851

E.g., Cicero Leg. 2.10.25; Rhet. ad Herenn. 3.3.4; Juvenal Sat. 14.96–106; Persius Sat. 5.179–184; Horace Sat. 1.4.141–144; 1.5.100–101; Tacitus Hist. 5.1–5; Sib. Or. 3.271–272 (probably second century B.C.E.); Philo Flaccus 47,85; Josephus Ant. 18.81–83; Ag. Ap. book 2; Tertullian Apo1. 16:1–4; Acts 16:20–21. For further detail, see Daniel, «Anti-Semitism»; Whittaker, Jews and Christians, 3–130; Cohen, Maccabees, 46–58; Meagher, «Twig»; Soramuzza, «Policy»; Sevenster, Anti-Semitism; but the most useful diachronic treatment, providing valuable perspective on the source of much of the anti-Judaism (a reaction to pro-Jewish currents and proselytization), is Gager, Anti-Semitism; cf. idem, «Judaism»; Yavetz, «Judeophobia.»

1852

As noted also by others (e.g., ÓDay, «John,» 507). On intra-Jewish polemic, see, e.g., Johnson, «Slander»; Overman, Gospel and Judaism, 16–23.

1853

Apion may have reinterpreted earlier, more positive portraits of Judaism (Feldman, «Intimations»). Egyptian priests proved very anti-Jewish (cf. Frankfurter, «City,» on 116–17 C.E.), and Tacitus Hist. 5.2–5 follows such Egyptian and Greco-Egyptian sources (cf. Heinen, «Grundlagen»), while adding less anti-Judaic material (Rokeah, «Tacitus»).

1854

Nothomb, «Juifs,» 68–69. Purvis, «Samaritans,» 172, has a similar thesis with regard to Samaritan usage. Cf. Culpepper, «Jews.»

1855

As Sikes, «Anti-Semitism,» 30, observes, at least some of John's readers must have been Jewish for some of the content of his Gospel to be intelligible (cf. likewise Dodd, «Background,» 334).

1856

Knight, «Anti-Semitism,» 86–87; cf. Michaels, «Anti-Semitism,» 23. Knight's argument that «Israel» would not be relevant to communities in Asia Minor (84) would not hold true in churches which had the Jewish Scriptures; and his argument that «Jews» would not be relevant in Asia Minor (ibid.), if it were true, would not help his case that the indictments are situational rather than ethnic.

1857

Sikes, «Anti-Semitism,» 30.

1858

Fortna, «Locale,» 93–95; Grässer, «Polemik,» 83–89; Kümmel, Introduction, 231; Dahl, «History,» 128–29; idem, «Kristus»; Kysar, Maverick Gospel, 57; Barrett, «John and Judaism,» 417. Cf. Crossan, «Anti-Semitism,» 193; Lee, Thought, 121; Michaels, «Anti-Semitism,» 17–19; Burney, Origin, 145. Cf. the view that «the Jews» against whom John really polemicizes represent Christians with low Christology (Jonge, «Jews,» 258–59; cf. 8:30; 1 John 2:22–23).

1859

Sandmel, Anti-Semitism, 117–18. Cf. also the objection raised by Pancaro, Law, 532–33, that the portrayal is far more specifically Jewish than would be necessary for such a general typification.

1860

The clearest exceptions are 6and 52, where those who were originally Galileans seem to fall into the pattern of «the Jews» when they begin to oppose Jesus» real message. Jesus himself is a Galilean who accepts the title «Jew» from a Samaritan woman (4:9,22), but the value of this for the argument depends on the interpretation of 4:44–45. «Jews» in ancient sources did not always have a geographic referent (see Meeks, «Artificial Aliens,» 130 n. 2; Williams, «Ioudaois in Inscriptions»).

1861

In 28:19, Paul addressing Jewish listeners uses «Jews» to distinguish Jews from Romans, but unless Luke simply ignores inherent plausibility in his narrative, even in a negative context it seems not to cause affront when uttered by a fellow Jew. Their reply in 28could imply that they take «Jews» as Judeans, although this is not the usual sense in Acts. Note that while Jewish Christianity was favored in Jerusalem (2:47) and only the Hellenists received much initial opposition (cf. 8:1), Herod Agrippa sought Peter's death to please «the Jews» (12:3); Luke may intend this as an architectonic link with 24and similar passages. In 22:12–13 it is used for a specific Jewish group opposing Pau1. For some other passages in early Christian literature, see Robinson, «Destination,» 129.

1862

Cuming, «Jews,» 290–92. His arguments are convincing.

1863

Ibid.; Lowe, «ΙΟΥΔΑΙΟΙ,» 101–30; Meeks, «Jew,» 181–82; cf. Geyser, «Israe1.»

1864

«Locale,» 93. For Galileés schematic role in the Fourth Gospel, cf. «Locale,» 85; Bassler, «Galileans» (who argues that the Galileans represent those receptive to Jesus). This does make sense of the movement from apparent Galileans to «Jews» in ch. 6.

1865

Ashton, «Ioudaioi,» 71, does not even think the Galilean-acceptance/Judean-rejection theme is as prominent as we have allowed it, which would weaken Lowés thesis further.

1866

See Brown, John, l:lxxi; Crossan, «Anti-Semitism,» 199; Baum, Gospel, 111; Bowman, Gospel, 41; Pereyra, «Significado»; Tsuchido, «Anti-Semitism»; Beutler, «Identity,» 230–31; Motyer, Father the Devil, 54–56 (as cited in Blomberg, Reliability, 147); for a range of meaning, including the Judean elite, see Lea, «Killed.» Von Wahlde, «Survey,» notes that the common people are included only in 6and 52. For a more detailed reconstruction, see Brown, Community, 66–67.

1867

John purposely uses anachronistic language for Pharisaic authority, for instance, in 7and 9(cf. Haenchen, John, 2:18, 39; Von Wahlde, «Terms,» 233). This should not surprise us, since later rabbis could see «the rabbis» as leaders of pre-70 Judaism (e.g., b. Git. 56a), and naturally saw the Yavneh and post-Yavneh academies as successors of the Jerusalem Sanhédrin (Danby, Mishnah, xix-xx).

1868

See, e.g., Rhet. ad Herenn. 4.44–45; Rowe, «Style,» 127; Anderson, Glossary, 112 (though noting it was more common in poetry than in prose).

1869

See 1 Thess 2:14–16; see further discussion and sources in Keener, Matthew, 351–53.

1870

So many scholars: Harrington, People, 113–14; Motyer, «Anti-Semitic»; Gryglewicz, «Pharisäer,» 157–58; Michaels, «Anti-Semitism,» 15; Bowman, Gospel, 144; Brown, Community, 41; Baum, Gospel, 126; Whitacre, Polemic, 24; Pancaro, «Israel,» 401–2; Shepherd, «Jews» (although his detection of docetic teaching is doubtful). Pippin, «Fear,» sees John's anti-Jewishness in the context of a concrete historical situation, but thinks this understanding is still inadequate to mitigate its anti-Semitic effects (Leibig, «Jews,» agrees, unless it is supplemented by creative reinterpretation).

1871

Cf. Harrington, People, 113–14; Robinson, «Destination,» 118–19, 129; Wilson, «Anti-Judaism,» 46; Brown, Community, 42 n. 66. For comparable attacks in the Hebrew Bible and in Qumran, cf. Townsend, «Jews,» 75–76; in other apocalyptic literature, Rost, Judaism, 149.

1872

Robinson, «Destination,» 118–19.

1873

Wright, People of God, 457, argues that early Christians saw themselves as «the continuation of Israel in a new situation,» but not as ethnic Israe1. On our view, the Jewish Christians, like the Essenes, saw themselves as the faithful remnant within Israe1.

1874

See at length Keener, «Pneumatology,» 330–49; more briefly, idem, Background Commentary, 262–63; cf. also WTiitacre, John, 226: «the insinuation «the supposed true Jews.»»

1875

Reversing charges was a standard debate technique; see Plato Apo1. 35D; Cicero Or. Brut. 40.137; Rose. Amer. 30.82–45.132; Dionysius of Halicarnassus Lysias 24; Matt 12:24, 45.

1876

Keener, «Pneumatology,» 330–49; idem, Background Commentary, 262–63; though I argued this earlier, neither of my works was widely circulated in academic circles, so we arrived at the conclusion independently.

1877

De Boer, «Jews,» 278. He believes that this led to John's audience ultimately abandoning the title while seeking to remain faithful to their heritage (p. 279).

1878

E.g., Duke, Jrony; Culpepper, «Irony»; ÓDay, Revelation, 31–32.

1879

Cicero Brutus 292 traces the use of irony back to Socrates» dialogues in Plato, Xenophon, and Aeschines. It was certainly common enough in satire and in debate (e.g., Plato Sophist passim; Dio Chrysostom Or. 31.9–10; Plutarch Stories and Poets 4, Mor. 1058c; Apuleius Metam. 3.4–6; Tertullian Apo1. 40.2; forensic speech in Cicero Verr. 2.5.10.25), but also occurred in interpersonal hostile exchanges (Achilles Tatius 6.12.1); for Jewish examples in the Greek language, see, e.g., Josephus Life 340; Ag. Ap. 1.295 (though sarcasm also had a long history in Israelite tradition, e.g., 1 Kgs 18:27). For more nuanced and detailed pictures of ancient irony, see esp. Duke, Irony, 8–12; ÓDay, Revelation, 12–19; Anderson, Glossary, 39, 108.

1880

Cf. similarly the definition in Rowe, «Style,» 128–29 (citing, e.g., Demosthenes Ag. Androtion 22.32; Cicero Cat. 1.1.2).

1881

Duke, Jrony, 14–16. Ancient narrators, unlike some modern ones, were always reliable and gave reliable clues to irony (pp. 29–30).

1882

Ibid., 53.

1883

Cf. Mark 1:23; 12:38–40. Both biblical prophets (Isa 1:10–15; Amos 5:18–27) and Juvenal (Stewart, «Domitian») satirized religious hypocrisy. Cicero approved the use of humor in attacking opponents if it was witty (De or. 2.58.236; 2.61.251; cf. Tertullian Apo1. 40.2).

1884

See esp. Culpepper, Anatomy, 165–80; cf. also Shedd, «Meanings.»

1885

One should keep in mind John's use of geography; his vertical dualism also figures into his «geography.»

1886

Many commentators cite the «hidden Messiah» tradition in this context (e.g., Cadman, Heaven, 356), but the idea is somewhat different in John from what it was in Judaism (see Thompson, Humanity, 19–22), and the idea is, unless I am mistaken, not clear in Judaism before the time of John. At any rate, the conflicting opinions of Jesus» opponents sound more like a «heads I win, tails you lose» argument, and this is characteristic of the dishonest ideological inconsistencies John portrays as characterizing ]esus» opponents.

1887

This is not to deny the historical plausibility of such an explanation for official hostility towards Jesus; compare the sensitivity of the Jewish officials in Josephus War 2.237 and Life 104 (not merely reflecting Josephus's apologetic Tendenz). On the irony, see Barrett, John, 405, followed by Culpepper, Anatomy, 169–70.

1888

The irony is pointed out by a number of scholars, for instance Meeks, «Agent,» 58; Strachan, Gospel ,216; Dahl, «Church and History,» 135.

1889

See commentary on this passage.

1890

See Keener, «Pneumatology,» 115–216; and below on the appropriate passages.

1891

See Exod 33:12–16; Whitacre, Polemic, 51; Pancaro, Law, 256. Compare Jesus» superiority over Abraham (John 8:33–58) and Jacob (4:12–14; cf. 1:51).

1892

Whitacre, Polemic, 65–66. Cf. Pancaro, Law, 517–22; Caron, «Dimension.»

1893

Shepherd, «Jews» 108–10, argues that those who «claim to be Jews but are not» were actually Christians flirting with gnostic speculation, but this view has little to commend it. A syncretistic Judaism is possible (Ford, Revelation, 393), but not particularly suggested by the text; the wording probably simply suggests a hostile community of non-Christian Jews; see Fiorenza, Revelation, 118; cf. Goodenough, Symbols, 2:79–81; Yamauchi, Cities, 61–62; Stern, «Diaspora,» 151.

1894

Cf. similarly Setzer, Responses, 100.

1895

See esp. Whitacre, Polemic, 68–90; Pancaro, «Relationship,» 365–405.

1896

Culpepper, «Problem for Interpreters,» 91; cf. Bieringer, Pollefeyt, and Vandecasteele-Vanneuville, «Framework,» 43–44.

1897

Cf. Neusner, Beginning, 30; S. Safrai, «Self-Government,» 404–8.

1898

Bassler, «Galileans,» 257. The Galilean response thus challenged John's Jewish contemporaries (see Matsunaga, «Galileans»).

1899

Freyne, Galilee, 116–32.

1900

Ashton, «Ioudaioi,» 71.

1901

Freyne, Galilee, 50–68, 82–90,103–15.

1902

For a survey of the abundant archaeological evidence, see Saunders, «Synagogues»; Meyers, «Judaism and Christianity,» 69, 71. Julian repeatedly calls later Christians «Galileans» (see in Stern, Authors, 502–72, passim); cf. Epictetus Diatr. 4.7.6.

1903

Freyne, Galilee, 2, citing Walter Grundman, Jesus der Galiläer und das Judentum (Leipzig, 1941).

1904

Freyne, Galilee, 169.

1905

Ibid., 170.

1906

Ibid., 143–44. For an earlier period, see esp. 1Macc 5:15.

1907

Goodman, State, 41–53; Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 93; cf. Overman, «Archaeology.»

1908

See Levine, Hellenism, 94–95; Strange, «Galilee,» 395–96. See above on the hellenization of Palestine; Jerusalem was a mercantile and tourist center. Pace Mack, Crossan, and others, we lack evidence for a significant Cynic presence in Galilee (Eddy, «Diogenes,» 463–67; Boyd, Sage, 151–58; the contrary response of Seeley, «Cynics,» is helpful on details but does not affect this general picture).

1909

Goodman, State, 31–32.

1910

Vale, «Sources.»

1911

Meyers, «Regionalism»; cf. Crossan, Jesus, 19.

1912

Goodman, State, 88–89.

1913

Horsley, Galilee, 250–51, also commenting on the lack of public baths in the villages. Public baths were a necessity for urban Hellenists (e.g., Diogenes Laertius 6.2.40; Martial Epigr. 12.82; Pausanias 2.3.5; Apuleius Metam. 2.2; Yegül, «Complex»; among Palestinian Jews, cf. t. Ber. 2:20; Β. Qam. 9:12).

1914

E.g., Kaufman, Disciple, 27–28. Levine, Hellenism, 182, has 35 percent; this may be restricted largely to middle and upper classes (ibid., 78), but the same restriction would hold in Galilee, with much smaller urban elites.

1915

E.g., b. cErub. 53b; p. Hag. 3:4, §1; Freyne, Galilee, 1–2; he also cites Josephus War 2.237, but this does not support his case.

1916

Freyne, Galilee, 216–17.

1917

Although most of the texts cited by Vermes, Jesus the Jew, 54, do not support his case, m. Ned. 2does. The Palestinian Amoraic account of Johanan ben Zakkaís rejection in Galilee may also be instructive (Vermes, Jesus the Jew, 56–57).

1918

        T. Demai 1:10. Most cities and regions in the empire had some idiosyncratic traditions (e.g., Pausanias 2.1.1).

1919

Malinowski, «Tendencies»; Horsley, Galilee, 152–55; cf. Mayer, «Anfang»; Manns, «Galilée»; Meyers and Strange, Archaeology, 37–38,45.

1920

        P. Ros Hal 4:6, §1. That halakic customs varied is clear (e.g., p. Ketub. 4:14, §1, following m. Ketub. 4:14; p. Ned. 2:4, §3).

1921

Freyne, Galilee, 201–2.

1922

Vermes, Jesus and Judaism, 5,153 n. 8; Davies, Setting, 450; Liefeld, «Preacher,» 144.

1923

See Freyne, «Religion.» For Galilean loyalty to Jerusalem, see esp. Josephus Life 198.

1924

Urban dwellers could despise them as uneducated rural dwellers, especially if from less respectable regions (Aelian Farmers 20, Phaedrias to Sthenon, end).

1925

Cf. Malina, Windows, 62.

1926

For one useful liberationist reading, see Samuel, «Kairos.»

1927

Technically he was from Gamala across the Jordan (Josephus Ant. 18.4; Witherington. Christology, 88–89).

1928

Vermes, Jesus the Jew, 46–48; idem, Jesus and Judaism, 4–5 (especially on Upper Galilee).

1929

Zeitlin, «Galileans»; Loftus, «Note»; cf. idem, «Revolts» (though he may be correct about continuing Hasmonean sympathies).

1930

Armenti, «Galileans»; Freyne, «Galileans»; Bilde, «Galilaea.»

1931

E.g., his military praise in Josephus War 3.41.

1932

Freyne, Galilee, 162.

1933

Ibid., 195; Witherington, Christology, 88–90.

1934

Freyne, Galilee, 171.

1935

Ibid., 144–45, citing Josephus Life 58; cf. Freyne, «Galileans.»

1936

Goodman, State, 120; Horsley, Galilee, 251. Freyne, «Ethos,» argues for some limited trade connections but notes that this does not indicate a cultural or religious continuum.

1937

Finley, Economy, 123–49; Meeks, Moral World, 38; Lee, «Unrest,» 128; MacMullen, Relations 15, 30, 32; cf. idem, Enemies, 163–91; e.g., Longus 2.22; Cicero Rose. Amer. 14.39; Philostratus Viz soph. 2.5.573. In Palestine, cf. Applebaum, «Life,» 663–64; Neusner, Beginning, 24–25; m. Meg. 1:3; p. Meg. 1:3.

1938

Cf. Millar, «World,» noting that Greek villages were not isolated.

1939

Freyne, Galilee, 146–47.

1940

Stambaugh and Balch, Environment, 101, cite Josephus Ant. 18.15.

1941

In Matthew and Mark, Jesus appears to the disciples in Galilee; skipping this, Luke-Acts, the focus of which is particularly urban, reports the establishment of the apostolic church in Jerusalem. Contrast Goulder, Matthew, 141, who speculates that Peter, James, and John remained in Jerusalem when the others returned to Galilee, providing two independent traditions.

1942

Cf. Judge, Pattern, 60–61.

1943

Vermes, Jesus the Jew, 56–57; Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 292; Neusner, Crisis, 38. This does not mean that no Pharisees may have been Galilean; see Horsley, Galilee, 150–52, 256; Witherington, Christology, 66; perhaps Eleazar in Josephus Ant. 20.43.

1944

Freyne, «Relations»; Freyne, Galilee, 178–90 (the exception being Sepphoris, Josephus Life 348–349).

1945

Freyne, Galilee, 150–52.

1946

Goodman, State, 93–118; cf. Freyne, «Religion.»

1947

Goodman, State, 107.

1948

Ibid., 178.

1949

Richardson, Israel, 184.

1950

Cf. Meeks, Prophet-King, 41. Geyser, «Israel,» relates the anti-Judean polemic of the Gospel to its special interest in Diaspora Jewry's restoration to the land.

1951

Culpepper, Anatomy, 216–18; but gospel tradition made Capernaum familiar.

1952

Compare how many Germans rallied around Luther, the local scholar, when the pope condemned his writings (cf., e.g., Chadwick, Reformation, 47,61).


Источник: The Gospel of John : a commentary : Volumes 1-2 / Craig S. Keener – Massachusetts : Baker Academic, 2003. – 1636 pages.

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