But on Tuesday night I attended the handing over of a festschrift in honour of Prof Andries Van Aarde’s 6oth birthday. Prof Van Aarde was my PhD supervisor and he thoroughly deserves it. He is a prolific author and a great human being.

The presentation took place at the University of Pretoria, and I estimate, about 150 people were present.

Prof Andries Van Aarde

Seventy articles were written in the festschrift!  – covering a wide range of subjects related to New Testament study. You can check it out here (for free!).

Collins, John J, and Collins, Adela Yarbro, 2008 – King and Messiah as Son of God: Divine, Human, and Angelic Messianic Figures in Biblical and Related Literature. Publisher: Eerdmans. Paperback, xiv + 261 pages. 

 This investigation deals with a very important topic, namely, the question of the divinity of the messiah. The authors argue that the divinity of Jesus was not some later development and something unique to Christianity, but had its roots in the changing and fluid Jewish conceptions of the messiah around the turn of the era. Specifically, the idea had its roots in Judaism in the royal ideology of ancient Judah. Ideas about the king or messiah being God’s son were variously repudiated (the Deuteronomist and prophets) or developed in the Hellenistic period where hopes for deliverance often focused on heavenly and supernatural mediator figures.

John J Collins is the author of chapters 1-4 that investigate various Israelite texts.

Chapter 1, “The King as Son of God”, investigates evidence for the divinity of the Israelite king in the royal psalms. The king is called “son of God” in Pss 2 and 89, and Pss 110 and 45 appear to attribute divinity to the king, as he is called elohim or is “begotten”. Collins suggests that the possibility exists that Egyptian conceptions, via Canaan, as well as Assyrian notions of monarchy influenced Israel. This is qualified by the fact that there is no evidence for cultic veneration and the king is not divine as in the same sense as God. The king is empowered to act as God’s surrogate on earth, and the language used refers to the nature and status conferred on him.

Chapter 2, “The Kingship in Deuteronomistic and Prophetic Literature”, traces how the royal ideology was tempered somewhat by Deuteronomist theologians in the late seventh century BCE, extending to the exilic and restoration periods. The king is variously made subject to the law (Deut 17), or is subject to punishment (2 Sam 7; Ps 89), or the Davidic covenant is made conditional (Ps 132; 1 Kings 8). Apart from Isaiah 9, prophetic books make modest claims for the future king and repudiate royal pretensions and claims of divinity.

Chapter 3, “Messiah and Son of God in the Hellenistic Period”, looks at Hellenistic ruler cults and messianism in the Septuagint and Dead Sea Scrolls (DSS). In the Septuagint the royal psalms are faithfully rendered in Greek and were probably not seen as problematic due to the association of divinity with kingship in the Hellenistic world. A few passages, however, also attribute preexistence to the messiah or refer to him as an angel (Ps 110:3 = LXX109; possibly Ps 72:17 = LXX 71:17; Isa 9). The DSS freely draws on biblical language, such as the Florilegium (4Q174; Nathan’s oracle in 2 Sam 7:14), and the Messianic Rule and 4Q246 (Ps 2). In the latter case the Davidic/royal messiah is given the honorific title as “son of God”, and perhaps evinces the willingness to entertain language of divinity with reference to a future king.

Chapter 4, “Messiah and Son of Man” investigates Daniel 7, the Melchizedek Scroll, the Similitudes of Enoch, and 4 Ezra 13. Collins argues that “one like a son of man” in Daniel refers to the archangel Michael (p. 78) not to a corporate symbol or the messiah, but the “son of man” tradition was adapted and later identified as the messiah in 1 Enoch 37-71 and 4 Ezra 13. Here there is a growing tendency to see saviour figures or the messiah as pre-existent and of heavenly origin. Overall there was no orthodoxy when it came to the messiah, “[b]ut there were clear biblical precedents for speaking of the messiah as God or son of God, and there was plenty of speculation about heavenly deliverers … In the context of first-century-CE Judaism, it is not surprising or anomalous that divine status should be attributed to someone who was believed by his followers to be the messiah” (p. 100). The Son of Man, king or messiah was not the object of worship however. The exception is 1 En 48:5 where the people perform proskynesis before the Son of Man, although this is not worship in its fullest sense.

Adela Yarbro Collins authored chapters 5-8 that focus on the New Testament. It is unfortunate that absent here is detailed treatments of James, Hebrews, as well as the Deutero-Pauline, Petrine and Johannine epistles, as her attention is limited to Paul’s (“authentic”) letters, the gospels, and the Book of Revelation. Nevertheless, she builds on and remains in conversation with the work of chapters 1-4 creating continuity for the reader.

Chapter 5, “Jesus as Messiah and Son of God in the Letters of Paul” investigates the close relation between Jesus as Son of God and his status as messiah. Weaving her way through the Pauline corpus she also argues that the epithet “Christ” was a well established tradition before Paul joined the movement, and the messianic tradition was reinterpreted in light of Jesus’ crucifixion. She also suggests that at least one passage points to the pre-existence of Jesus (Phil 2:6-11). Possibly several others do the same (Rom 1:3; 1 Cor 8:5-6; 2 Cor 4:3-4), which, if being the case, Jesus is also identified as personified wisdom.

Chapter 6, “Jesus as Messiah and Son of God in the Synoptic Gospels” conclude that none of these gospels portray Jesus as pre-existent, although scenes such as his transfiguration (Mk 9:2-3), and the virginal conception in Matthew and Luke imply that he is divine. Like Paul, the Synoptics place emphasis on the exaltation of Jesus to his messianic office at the time of his resurrection.

Chapter 7, “Jesus as Son of Man” investigates the origin of the Son of Man sayings and their relationship to traditions of Jesus’ divinity and preexistence. Collins gives an overview of its function in the Synoptics and based on her overview of secondary sources explain that there is still disagreement on whether they allude to Daniel 7, function as a Semitic idiom for “(a) man” or as a circumlocution for “I”. There is also disagreement as the extent to which they originate from Jesus. She also identifies the “son of man” in Daniel as an angelic being, but the Similitudes of Enoch and 4 Ezra understand him as the messiah. Collins then follows the interpretation that Jesus “understood himself and was understood in an apocalyptic or restoration-eschatological context” (p. 170). The oldest Son of Man sayings she argues are allusions to and interpretations of Daniel 7:13-14. Jesus predicted that after his proclamation of the kingdom a heavenly messiah (“Son of Man”) would be revealed (Mk 13:26-27; cf 1 Thess 4:16-17), and subsequently his disciples identified him with that figure in his exalted state. Thus, Jesus did not necessarily identify himself as this figure, at least, nothing in her argument points to this. For Collins the cultural environment led to speculations of his preexistence and divine status. Given the exalted status of Jesus as king over Israel and the world, and given the existence of the imperial cults, “it is not surprising that Jesus was viewed as a god [note: not “God”] and that worship of him became an alternative to the worship of the emperor” (p. 174). The reader, however, is left in the dark as to exactly what it meant for Jesus to be “worshipped” as “a god”. This needs to be explained, and is a problem we also encounter in the next chapter.

Chapter 8, “Messiah, Son of God, and Son of Man in the Gospel and Revelation of John”, argues that the Gospel of John and Revelation represent Jesus as preexistent and divine. In both he is a messiah of the heavenly type, is linked to the Son of Man in Daniel 7, and identified with the “word of God” and wisdom. In both he is also God’s first creature, but is something communicated in different ways. As the son of God in a unique way Collins prefers the reading “the only-begotten god” over “only-begotten son” (Jn 1:18). The Gospel therefore represents him as an emanation of God or being “a god” (note again: not “God”). Revelation appears to portray the risen Jesus, as “one like a son of man” or the “word of God”, as the principal angel or in angelomorphic terms (Rev 1:12-16; 14:14-20; 19:13).

On pp. 204-213 quite a comprehensive conclusion of the work is offered and is well worth reading it for a quick overview. The strengths of the Collins’ investigation are their strong textual analysis, giving each passage detailed attention, complimented by extensive interaction with Ancient Near Eastern, Greco-Roman, and secondary sources. Their conclusions are restrained and generally well argued with their main thesis convincingly demonstrated. Their identification of the Son of Man in Daniel as the archangel Michael will perhaps not be accepted by all. At the same time their overall conclusion as to the nature of Jesus’ divinity is far from an endorsement of traditional Trinitarian theology. Yes, Jesus was in various ways for his earliest followers a pre-existent and/or divine being, but the authors argue against early notions of binitarianism. “Worship” of Jesus and his “divinity” was understood in different terms. In view of 1 Enoch 48:5, Rev 5:14; 3:9 proskynesis (worship; bowing down; self-prostration) does not imply worship in its fullest sense, and the primary “connotation is submission to embodied power and authority” (p. 212). Likewise they appear to prefer a “functional”, not “ontological” divinity for Jesus, based on the need to ask how and to what degree Jesus participates in God’s sovereignty and activity of creation (p. 213).

This is perhaps where we begin to walk on shaky ground, as an important opportunity was missed to explore the socio-cultural world of the first followers of Jesus in further detail. For example, binitarianism is an anachronistic and ethnocentric (theological) category. And did the ancients distinguish between “functional” and “ontological” notions of divinity? What needs to be established is what was the nature of, as well as the similarities or differences between Israelite and Roman-Hellenistic notions of “divinity” and “worship” in their first-century context? What can the primary ancient Mediterranean value of honour inform us in this regard, or the institution of patronage and clientage? Was the honour ranking of Jesus equal to that of God, or not? Was he viewed primarily as a patron or a broker? Looking at the issues from fresh perspectives may endorse, qualify, or contradict existing answers. It is time that textual analysis be complimented by, or even better, be governed by the insights of the social-sciences.

Faculty of Theology, University of Pretoria

I am looking forward to the bi-annual international conference of the Context Group that will be hosted by the University of Pretoria (Department of New Testament Studies) and UNISA (Department of New Testament and Early Christian Studies). It will take place at the University of Pretoria from 3-4 August 2010. International scholars such as John Kloppenborg, Dietmar Neufeld and Eric Stewart will be present.

Papers at the conference include:

• Paul’s rhetoric concerning himself and Peter in Galatians 1and 2
• Developing Models of Gifting and Friendship in the Ancient Mediterranean
• Regeneration and Resurrection in Matthew
• A social-scientific analysis of the Parable of the Talents
• The role of the forefathers/ancestors and honour in Hebrews
• Poisoned by the illness – disease distinction: an antidote for medico-centrism
• Healing in John
• Making sense of oral history and oral “literature” in the Greco-Roman Mediterranean world
• Women’s economic roles in the early church and honour and shame.

I will give a report of the meeting when it is completed.

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MASON, Steve. Josephus, Judea, and Christian Origins: Methods and Categories. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2009. ISBN 978-1-59856-254-5. xx + 443 pp.

The volume is a collection of previously published work that inter alia, questioned existing analytical categories (“religion”, “Judaism”, “gospel”) in that they do not cohere with ancient conceptions of language, hence a revision as suggested by the title.

The volume is broken up into three main sections. Part I: Josephus: Interpretation and History (chaps 1-4); Part II: Josephus and Judea (chaps 5-8); and Part III: Christian Origins (chaps 9-11).

Chapter 1, “Josephus as Authority for First-Century Judea” (pp. 7-43), looks at using Josephus as a source for historical information. Focussing on Josephus information on Pilate’s tenure as governor, and on Caesarea’s role in the outbreak of the revolt, Mason makes comparisons between Josephus’ various writings. He cautions we are dealing here more with artistic constructions and Josephus’ freedom as a writer when taking the differences and lack of sufficient information into account. Josephus must not be regarded as an authority. Unless verified by independent lines of evidence, we cannot transform his reports into real events, so a huge question mark remains upon underlying historical realities. How is this problem overcome? Mason argues traditional approaches have hitherto overlooked two fundamental problems, “the nature of language and the nature of history” (p. 39). Josephus is much like a contemporary film director – he is producer, writer, director, set designer, and sometimes actor, so we are not dealing with neutral language. And history begins with a historian’s problem, “the careful, examination of relevant evidence in situ, and then the generation of possible hypotheses … The most probable hypothesis will be the one that best explains how the range of surviving evidence came into being” (p. 40). Producing history becomes an insurmountable problem, however, if we only have one source. But the aim of historians is to invite others to follow their analysis and conclusions (hypotheses), to write in a publicly accessible way, and avoiding idiosyncratic and emotional language.

Chapter 2, “Of Audience and Meaning: Reading Josephus’s Judean War in the Context of a Flavian Audience” (pp. 46-67), is an entrance for the reader into Mason’s understanding where more fruitful uses of Josephus can be found, that is, where Josephus the Judean aristocrat writes for an aristocratic Flavian audience. Here the questions is: for who did Josephus write? For an elite audience in Rome. Mason then gives five reasons why (see pp. 51-66). Firstly, writing was a local and social activity. Mason explains: “An author normally composed a work gradually and by constant revision, presenting it in stages to ever-widening concentric circles, moving from closest friends to more remote associates through a combination of oral recitation and distribution of partial drafts … [Authors] met their intended audiences while preparing their works” (p. 52, 54). Second, Josephus gives references of preparation and dissemination of War and responses to it before he wrote the prologue (e.g. Life 361-66; Against Apion 1.46-56; War 1.13-16). Third, the narrative assumes ignorance of Judean persons and places, but substantial knowledge of Roman history. Fourth, the prospectus of the narrative provided in the prologue (1.17-30) consciously reaches out to a Roman audience. Lastly, the major theme of War (civil war) is used to connect the Judean situation with the Roman.

Chapter 3, “Figured Speech and Irony in T. Flavius Josephus” (pp. 69-102) investigates Josephus’ rhetoric in light of the ancient style of elusive language (Greek: emphasis), especially his use of irony (“figured speech”) in Judean War, Judean Antiquities, and Life. Josephus, according to Mason, relied a lot on his audience’s knowledge of ironic effects. For example, Josephus undermines the Flavian presentation of the revolt (66-70 CE). It was not because of their military might or deities, or that it was a Judean revolt against Rome, but because an internal civil war provoked divine punishment. Josephus’ irony extends to mocking flattery of the Flavian emperor’s themselves. It is especially in Life where Josephus happily plays the game of misdirection for an appreciative audience conjuring up a “Tacitean world of appearances detached from reality: everyone attempts to mislead everyone else for his own advancement” (p. 101).

Chapter 4, “Contradiction or Counterpoint? Josephus and Historical Method” (pp. 103-137) investigates traditional approaches to accounts seen to be narrative contradictions, differences between what he claims and the actions he reports. The example Mason investigates are reconstructions of the Judean elite’s involvement in the outbreak of the revolt. On the one hand they are portrayed as against the revolt, but their actions (and so their real intentions) supposedly tell us something different. Infighting between high-priestly factions, as well as Eleazar leadership of the rebels, Mason suggests, are not examples of contradictions, but of counterpoint. A contradiction is also seen in Josephus’ own involvement in the revolt. For example, if you conflate his narratives (Life 17-21; War 2.408-448) he can be identified as a partisan of Eleazar, thus a rebel. Mason therefore questions the methods used in historical reconstructions in view of an ever expanding corpus of literary studies of Josephus. The point is the same as chapter 1. If Josephus is our only source, we have no way of a making a hypothesis probable. His accounts are inseparable from their narrative contexts with their own subtleties and concerns catering for the rhetorical tastes of his audience, where proposed contradictions, to name but one area, are part of the story’s textured fabric, not clumsy mistakes, and therefore an opportunity to get “behind” Josephus’ to construct real history.

Chapter 5, “Jews, Judeans, Judaizing, Judaism: Problems of Categorization in Ancient History” (pp. 141-184) tackles the thorny problem of categories, especially how the ancients understood them. Mason explains that Ioudaismos as a system (“Judaism”) did not exist in Greek or Latin literature before the third century C.E. The Greek –ismos noun represents an ongoing action or activity of the cognate verb in –izo, where early examples of the latter indicate “going over to, adopting of, or aligning with” a people or culture other than one’s own (e.g. LXX Esther 8:17; Gal 2:14). So in 2 and 4 Maccabees the noun refers to a (re)alignment, the effort to bring Judeans back to reinstate the ancestral law. That it did not refer to a system is also clear from the few occurrences in Judean and early Christian literature. Mason also contends that our contemporary notion of religion had no taxanomical support in antiquity, and ancient Judeans understood themselves, and were understood by others, as an ethnos. “Shocking though it may seem,” Mason then explains, “we consistently find both Ioudaioi and outsiders understanding ‘conversion’ as in fact a movement from one ethnos to another, a kind of change in [political] citizenship” (p. 168), something abhorrent to most ancient writers because it involved a betrayal of the native ethnos and its ancestral customs.

Chapter 6, “Pharisees in the Narratives of Josephus” (pp. 185-215) examines their role in Josephus’ narratives. Mason explains that they appear only incidentally, a fact too often overlooked. Mason performs an overview of their appearance in Judean War, Judean Antiquities, and Life. A consistent theme that Mason finds is Josephus’ dislike of the Pharisees. Where he writes about them they are always cast in a negative light, forever undermining the proper governance of the people through the traditional priestly aristocracy. They attempt to influence the powerful and cause trouble for the nation, but due to their popular support and influence they must be reckoned with. So any idea that Josephus actually joined the Pharisees (Life 12) Mason blows out of the water. Josephus’ principal concern throughout his writings is to set out the character of the Judean people, a character that is determined by a people’s constitution and leaders. Leaders must have the right breeding and culture, Josephus himself being a shining example, and “Josephus’s accounts are filled with the measures taken by his people’s rightful leaders … to ensure the peaceful life of their citizens under the world’s finest constitution … [the] Pharisees appear as an occasional aggravation to the elite … to stir up the masses against duly constituted authority …” (p. 213).

Chapter 7, “The Philosophy of Josephus’s Pharisees” (pp. 217-238) investigates Josephus’ (confusing) description of the Pharisees (War 2.119-166; Ant 13.171-173; 18.12-22; Life 10-11) within the ancient context of philosophical schools, especially their view on Fate. Mason explains that ancient philosophy was about the discovery of happiness or well-being, but in addition to this that many modern disciplines (physics, biology, mathematics, agriculture, astronomy, political science, anthropology, psychology, language, theology and metaphysics, logic and ethics) fell within its orbit of investigation. It represents a certain type of person, “a man (usually) committed to simplicity of lifestyle, rational mastery of the desires and fears that drove other mortals, and direct, frank speech … personal honor, courage … incorruptibility, liberality … and contempt for suffering and death” (p. 219). Here the classical community of Sparta was used as a paradigm for its discipline, and embodied the “basic goal of ancient philosophical training to make the practitioner impervious to physical hardship, weakness, and desire, to the emotions and human suffering …” (p. 221). These type of values were assimilated into aristocratic Roman social values, that is, of the true statesman. Josephus, by making comparisons of the Judean philosophical schools, demonstrates that he is a man of broad philosophical awareness, although not (by requirement) attached to any specific school. In his narratives he can make opportune digressions to display his erudition. Judeans themselves already interpreted their own tradition from the second century BCE in philosophical terms. Josephus represents figures such as Abraham, Moses and King Solomon as philosophers, and the law especially had a philosophical character to it. So Josephus emphasises the Judean-philosophical virtues of courage, toughness, endurance, and contempt for suffering and death in his writings. In War, “Josephus has entered the Judeans in the competition for the most philosophical nation” (p. 228). But in the end Josephus’ descriptions of the Pharisees help more to confuse than to give real substance, for he manipulates the material for momentary needs. This, according to Mason, should make us wary of using these descriptions for historical purposes.

Chapter 8, “The Essenes of Josephus’s Judean War: From Story to History” (pp. 239-279) questions the methodology to interpret Josephus’ statements on the Essenes in light of the Dead Sea Scrolls (DSS). For Mason, looking at Josephus’ description in isolation and as part of War’s larger story lays new obstacles before the Qumran-Essene hypothesis. Mason begins with an overview of early-twentieth century scholarship on Pliny’s description of the Essene location (Natural History 5.73) and concludes none of it identifies the Essene location as Qumran. This only occurred after the discovery of the DSS. Pliny also suggests that at the time he wrote Essenes were thriving (late 70’s CE) but Qumran was destroyed in 68 CE. But what about Josephus’ material itself? The Essene passage should be seen within the context of Josephus defending the Judean character in War. The character of ancient peoples were seen as a result of their environmental conditions, and were also understood as reflected in their constitutions. In Greco-Roman usage, character or virtue was about manliness (masculinity). Roman males had to avoid being considered feminine in dress, deportment, gait, voice, gestures, and sexual behaviour. Roman men claimed the right to exercise imperium, the right to control others, especially foreigners or women, and had the obligation to control themselves because of their superior masculinity. For Judeans this paradigm was furnished by the leaders of the Hasmonean resistance against Antiochus IV (cf 1 Macc 12:7). But Josephus wrote in defence of Judeans after the failed revolt who were seen as barbarian and womanish. What lies beneath War is “Josephus’s claim that the Judeans deserve respect as real men … Josephus’s description of the Essenes [War 2.119-161] thus embodies his vision of the entire Judean tradition” (p. 255, 258). In fact, he represents them, indeed the entire nation later in Against Apion, as better than the Spartans. So in War the Essenes are useful to speak in the categories and thought world of his Mediterranean peers (see table on pp. 278—279). Mason (pp. 267-274) also points to contradictions between the DSS and Josephus’ passage, and suggests that the DSS represent a mental and cultural world at odds with his own, making it unlikely that he would use them as representatives of ideal Judeans.

Chapter 9, “Paul’s Announcement (to euangelion): ‘Good News’ and Its Detractors in Earliest Christianity” (pp. 283-302) investigates the origins and usage of the term euangelion. Mason notes its usage is found predominantly in Christian writings after the New Testament. In the New Testament itself it is mostly found in Paul. Mason traces its presence across three time periods: the first (ca. 30-65 CE), second (ca. 65-100), and third generations (ca. 100-135) of early Christianity. Mason contends that this unusual term – that he paraphrases as “The Announcement” – does not simply mean “the good news” and it was something originally peculiar to Paul. It revolved around the apocalyptically charged message about the imminent end of the age when Jesus will evacuate his followers from impending divine wrath. Throughout Paul’s letters there is a very strong propriety tone about “The Announcement”; it was something given to Paul and proclaimed by him alone and was something far removed from traditional Judean observance and identity. It sidelines Jesus’ closest associates from their positions of authority and was something Paul had to defend. The second generation, especially Colossians, Ephesians and the Pastorals also understand this term to be peculiarly Paul’s. Mark, who also uses the term, has roughly the same sensibilities as Paul, but Matthew, however, often does not take it over from Mark and also adapts it so that it no longer can be referred to absolutely as “The Announcement” – Matthew is distancing himself from Paul’s distinct usage. In the third generation, represented by Luke-Acts we find a middle ground. In Luke the cognate verb is found, but not in a Pauline way, while in Acts the noun appears first on the lips of Peter (Ac 15:7), and only thereafter on Paul’s (20:24). Paul’s distinctive language has therefore been co-opted in the service of a more comprehensive, less urgently eschatological program by those with links to the Jerusalem apostles.

Chapter 10, “’For I Am Not Ashamed of the Gospel” (Rom 1:16): The Gospel and the First Readers of Romans” (pp. 303-328) has another look at Paul’s usage of to euangelion. Mason argues against seeing Romans as addressing a primarily Gentile, or even a mixed audience. Both the internal and external evidence, so Mason argues, points to Paul writing for a Judean Christian community (perhaps there were some Gentiles, Mason concedes on p. 328, but Paul did not address their concerns). “Paul wrote the letter to persuade a Judean-Christian community to give his ‘gospel’ for Gentiles a sympathetic hearing” (p. 320). Mason argues for several indicators that points to a peculiar usage of euangelion in Romans. It only appears 9 times and nowhere does Paul speak of it as something shared between him and the Roman Christian readers. He associates it, however, with himself and his Gentile converts, and he has especially been assisgned vis-à-vis the other apostles to the euangelion of God. Paul also adopts a defensive posture (e.g. Rom 1:16) responding to concerns from a Judean perspective. Paul is ambivalent towards Judean Christianity, and “his positions are bad news for traditional Judean culture” and “Paul is disinclined to use the language of euangelion for what the readers have already believed” (p. 327). Mason therefore concludes that the usage of euangelion-language was not as meaningful to non-Pauline Christians.

Chapter 10, “Chief Priests, Sadducees, Pharisees, and Sanhedrin in Luke-Acts and Josephus” (pp. 329-373) is a lengthy chapter that investigates the portrayal of tradition Judean leaders. Mason is sceptical that we “know” anything (as yet) about them, and his exercise here is to establish a prolegomenon to any kind of historical reconstruction. After doing an overview of Jack T Sanders, Robert L Brawley, and John A Darr, Mason proceeds with his own investigation into Luke-Acts. Here he finds an evolving narrative, where unlike Matthew and Mark, we find an orderly progression of Jesus being found wholly within the Judean world to Jesus moving away from it. The Pharisees in Luke are more complex than merely being “friends” or “enemies” of Jesus and what characterises them is their incomprehension of Jesus’ program and events unfolding before them. The chief priests, Sadducees and Sanhedrin (referring to a building or room) appear at the end of the gospel. The chief priests are the embodiment of the powerful and with whom Jesus is brought into fatal conflict. The Sadducees are flat characters with vague associations with the Jerusalem leadership. In Acts the Pharisees continue as esteemed teachers of Jesus’ world and as cautious observers of Christianity, but they, along with “the Judeans” generally, begin to oppose the Christians only from the time of Stephen’s teaching. At the same time Luke attempts to portray the church as part of Judean culture and as another (philosophical type) school along the Pharisees and Sadducees. For Josephus on the other hand the chief priests and associates are the authorised rulers of the nation and the guardians of the Judean heritage, whereas the Pharisees, Sadducees and Essenes represent “normal” Judaism in contrast to those who encouraged revolt. In Antiquities, however, Josephus does distinguish between the good and bad actions of high priests. Mason then highlights 3 similarities between Luke and Josephus’ portrayal of these groups: 1) the chief priests were the traditional Judean aristocracy and in control of national affairs from Jerusalem, and were always concerned with popular sentiment; 2) the Sadducees are a philosophical school with a tiny base in the aristocracy; and 3) the Pharisees are a philosophical school who occupied the middle ground between the aristocracy and the masses. They were rooted with the people from whom they enjoyed a reputation for precision in the laws and their piety.

One must wonder what the implications are for Pauline studies, now referring to the wideheld opinion that some of the Pauline letters (e.g. Colossians, Ephesians, the Pastorals) were not written by him …? What about the opinion that some Pauline passages were later insertions …? Is it not possible that these “inauthentic” letters/insertions were “written” by Paul, allowing some of his co-workers to add their two cents as well? What about abrupt changes in Paul’s rhetoric that leads to partition theories (e.g. 2 Corinthians) …? You can imagine writing an average NT letter over several days that your train of thought, or mood, or whatever, will not be the same. Perhaps even changes in style could be attributed to whatever scribe/slave/co-worker was on duty that day. (And there were no backspace,  delete or copy and paste functions!)

One can argue that Paul would have controlled what was written. Sure. But maybe when we read the letters it is not only Paul who we are reading, but also those poor scribes who had to sit for hours and for several days writing them.

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Resurrection in Paul as both Affirmation and Challenge to the Israelite Cycle of Meaning

Abstract:
Pieter Craffert correctly insists that scholars must move away from ontological monism, and, inter alia, should interpret the resurrection of Jesus within the Israelite cycle of meaning. In view of 2 Corinthians 5:16, however, this paper contends that for Paul, the resurrection of Jesus not only affirmed Israelite resurrection beliefs, but through “the acquisition of experiential knowledge” (quoting Craffert) also challenged and expanded on them, resulting in a new and unexpected cycle of meaning. This study will be aided by the insights of ethnicity theory and social identity theory. The result of the study is to hint at the possibility that contemporary notions of the resurrection or afterlife, in whatever cycles of meaning they may be found, should also be seen continuously open to challenge and transformation through “the acquisition of (present day) experiential knowledge”.

1.      Introduction

Pieter Craffert’s (2008) recent contribution on the historical Jesus questioned traditional studies, in that they are all trapped in a (Western ethnocentric) positivistic historiographical framework.  For this kind of scholarship, battling to come to grips with the gospel narratives, the “historical” Jesus cannot be like the Jesus portrayed in the gospels.  The real Jesus lies somewhere “beneath” the text and must be approached by identifying “authentic” material.  Historical reconstructions, of which there are as many as there are scholars who engage in them, are then based on these “authentic” materials.  Craffert argues, however, that scholars must move away from their ontological monism and accept that there are pluralities of worldviews, the first century context of Jesus notwithstanding.  In this regard the historical Jesus lies within (not somewhere beneath) the text.  The gospels must be seen as cultural artifacts produced by a particular culture about a specific type of social personage. To avoid ethnocentrism, the gospels need to be interpreted through culturally sensitive engagement utilizing cross-cultural analysis and critique.  It is a bit like putting a fish back in water where it properly belongs, although we cannot swim in the same water. The point is, Jesus and the gospels formed part of a worldview and cultural context quite different to that of the Western world and cannot be interpreted from the values and assumptions about reality that form part of that world. In analyzing Jesus according to the shamanic complex, Craffert’s study quite successfully brings to our attention the “otherness” of Jesus, his person, and socio-cultural context.

As far as the resurrection of Jesus is concerned, Craffert states “that resurrection is a culture-specific notion about the afterlife and dependent for its reality on a whole range of cultural assumptions. Therefore, it is to be suggested that the documents are in the first place not testimonies about Jesus’s resurrection as if that can be taken as a homoversal human phenomenon” (2008:384; emphasis original). Polyphasic cultures would take as real what those in monophasic cultures would not consider as real, so the resurrection does not speak to a common human reality. Israelite afterlife options were cultural realities connected to some kind of body-soul dualism, and “the acquisition of experiential knowledge in a cycle of meaning” (2008:393). In polyphasic cultures ASC experiences could contribute knowledge about what is real and not real, and the resurrection of Jesus, or rather, the outcome of his resurrection, falls into this category.

This paper is particularly interested in Craffert’s insistence that Jesus’ resurrection must be placed within the Israelite worldview, experience, knowledge, and cycle of meaning. Paul gives evidence, however, that the resurrection of Jesus – leaving aside for the moment exactly what it means – showed both continuities and discontinuities with the Israelite knowledge system and cycle of meaning. In other words, notions of resurrection were affirmed and, I would suggest that in view of 2 Cor 5:16, through “the acquisition of experiential knowledge in a cycle of meaning” also challenged and expanded Paul’s understanding. This may also be relevant to us today.

This paper will proceed as follows. At first (1) we will have a look at Craffert’s approach to Jesus’ resurrection in more detail, as well as the biblical features of resurrection belief. (2) A brief and selective overview will then be given of ethnicity theory, complimented by the insights of social identity theory. Viewed from this angle, what is the potential ethnic meaning of resurrection? (3) Our focus will then shift to 2 Cor 5:16 and suggest how Paul articulates a challenge to the Israelite (ethnic) understanding of resurrection. Lastly, (4) its relevance for contemporary scholarship and theology will be touched upon.

2.         Resurrection in the Israelite Cycle of Meaning

Craffert (2008:394-95) explains that two sets of knowledge are relevant to a polyphasic culture’s cycle of meaning. The first concerned beliefs about the human body and the potentials of human existence. The astronomical complex were connected to beliefs about stars and angels. People could experience heavenly journeys, and many texts illustrate that people could transform into angels or astral beings after death, and in any particular case were dependent on, or at least supported by ASC experiences (sleep, mystical ascent). The second set of knowledge concerns the various afterlife options. This involves a circular and feedback process between “the particular ways of obtaining knowledge and views on both the human being and afterlife options. It was experienced souls in souled or spirited bodies that also encountered afterlife experiences” (2008:395; emphasis original).

There was, of course, a variety of afterlife notions (immortality of the soul, astral immortality, or resurrection of the body, or any combination of these), and “each notion was created in a particular Israelite cycle of meaning. Put the other way around: none of them described objective reality or how things were after life, but offered particular cultural constructions thereof” (2008:398). So in the case of Jesus’ resurrection the gospels and Paul give evidence of the following:

He resumed an Israelite continued existence, described as a resurrection, which was based on stories that his tomb was found empty and that he was encountered (seen) by his followers after his death … Jesus’s followers were convinced  … that he had entered an Israelite afterlife existence. None of these sources claim anything about the event itself. (Craffert 2008:399; emphasis original)

Craffert also argues that ASC experiences loomed large in understanding Jesus not as dead in the grave, but as alive, where he was either seen, or appeared to someone (Gal 2:12, 16; 1 Cor 15:5-8). What points to ASC experiences is Jesus is presented as shape shifting, and was often not recognized (Mat 28:17; John 20:14; Luke 24:16). Whatever form they take, “the resurrection accounts are filled with a cultural reality based on a culturally approved way of gaining knowledge” (2008:402). Craffert then explains:

Given the afterlife options available and the cycle of meaning of first-century Israelite people, they were convinced that he was no longer dead, but alive and well in the realm of the ancestors, immortals, or other divine beings. For some, he probably existed as a star somewhere among the other stars (angels, immortals, and divine beings) … For his cultural contemporaries, Jesus’s body was resurrected as a real and truly first-century Israelite resurrected body that after Jesus’s death, happened as a cultural event and via cultural phenomena. (Craffert 2008:405, 407)

Craffert continues that there is ample testimony that in some cultural settings religious leaders, healers or other people of importance were believed to continue their existence as ancestors or as the living dead still having an influence in the life of their followers (2008:408). And Jesus as son of man/son of God (or Galilean shamanic figure) appears to have been familiar with the heavenly territory and expected to resume a postmortem existence as a resurrected figure. Such expectations would have been conducive to ASC experiences of his followers, and visionary experiences often occur during states of mourning and sadness, especially after a violent or unexpected death (2008:410-413).

The study of Craffert is rich, expands our reference framework, and gives us many tools by which to approach the resurrection of Jesus. Yet it leaves us with a problem that appears on the surface to be insurmountable. Jesus’ resurrection becomes so culture-specific, it runs the danger of becoming irrelevant for those of us who did not sit down and eat at the first-century Mediterranean Israelite table. Is there a way that we can make it relevant? I believe so, but more about this later.

Before we proceed we will also look at the work of Bauckham (1998:86-89) who refers to four biblical features that is found in the belief in life after death around our period, especially as it pertains to resurrection. First, Israelite tradition takes death very seriously. Death is an evil that will ultimately be destroyed by God (Isa 25:7-8; Pseudo-Philo 3:10; 4 Ezra 8:53). Second, the human being is viewed as a psychosomatic whole. Although features of a person can survive death, the true life hoped for beyond death was conceived as a fully embodied life. Third, it concerns God’s righteous judgement. The righteous and sinners will face God’s judgement and may expect different destinies (Dan 12:2): vindication for the righteous and condemnation for the wicked. Fourth, individual eschatology is interconnected with corporate eschatology. Bauckham (1998:88) explains:

The fate of the individual after death is placed within the context of the final future of God’s people in the world. This is a consequence of the way Jewish eschatology developed. It was first and foremost a hope for God’s action, in salvation and judgment, in the world, for the coming of his kingdom over Israel and the nations. When hope for the future of individuals entered the picture, it was hoped that they would rise to share in the fulfilment of God’s promises for the redemption and restoration of Israel.

In various ways Jesus’ resurrection was understood according to the four elements noted by Bauckham. Jesus experienced a reversal of death and returned to embodied life. As a righteous martyr he was vindicated and rewarded with life. He stands somewhat apart, however, in that he is the “firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Cor 15:20). Nevertheless, Paul still manages to bring Jesus’ resurrection within the context of a collective eschatology.

The last point of Bauckham is quite important, for in the end resurrection was about Israel and for Israel, as most Israelite conceptions of resurrection as well as rewards and punishments place emphasis or appear in contexts of collective eschatology (cf Puech 2006).  This should not surprise us as Israelites were collectivists (as opposed to individualists), where the concerns, loyalties and demands of the group, not of the individual, take priority (cf Malina 1993). Collective eschatology illustrates a concern, apart from the issue of justice, for the continuation of Israel as a people and Israelite culture. We can bring this into connection with Craffert’s observation that resurrection was about an Israelite afterlife existence. We are dealing with Israelite souls/spirits being reunited with Israelite bodies (see underlined text above), continuing the Judean way of life, the customs of the fathers. In other words, collective eschatology illustrates a concern, not for “theology”, but for the collective honour and continued existence of Israelite ethnic identity.

3.         Israel as an Ethnic Identity

The fact is that more and more scholars are appreciating Israel as an ethnic identity, and rightly so (e.g. Duling 2005; 2008a; 2008b; Esler 1996; 1998; 2003a; 2003b; 2003c; 2006; Stegemann 2006; Mason 2009). In view of this the following needs to be emphasised: We are dealing with a people, an ethnos, who lived out a cultural way of life, and not with a people who practiced a “religion” or “theology”. In antiquity, religion and economics were embedded in the social realms of politics and economics, and I would argue, all of these institutions were embedded in the more encompassing realm of ethnic identity. In other words, “religion” never stood apart on its own as a separate sphere of life (cf Malina 1994).

Here two aspects of Israelite ethnic identity will be highlighted, namely the dynamics of group membership and the cultural content of their symbolic universe (= Israelite cycle of meaning).  The brief description to follow is extracted from work published elsewhere (cf Cromhout 2007; 2010). 

Firstly, one can define Israelite ethnicity as a form of social identity and relation, referring to a group of people (“Israel”) who ascribe to themselves and/or by others, a sense of belonging and a shared cultural tradition. It is a form of extended kinship, which according to larger parameters serve the same needs as kinship (familiarity, protection and support). We are speaking here of a people who perceive that they belong together, have a sense of “us” as opposed to “them”, and have a sense of solidarity.

Here the insights of social identity theory also come into play. People perceive themselves as belonging to a group, and hence, categorise themselves and others accordingly (= social categorisation).  Where there is interaction between two groups, especially within a context of collectivism and competition, there is a general tendency to favour the ingroup, something that normally goes hand in hand with intergroup comparison. The ingroup is positively stereotyped while outgroups are negatively stereotyped, serving the need of people to distinguish themselves as well as the need to create a positive self-value as compared to other groups (Tajfel 1978; 1981; Tajfel & Turner 1979; Brown 1995; 2000; 2001). This process is also reductionist, since members of your own or outsider groups are seen as more similar than what they are (Turner 1987).  So part and parcel of attachment to an ethnic group is that group members desire a positive valuation of their own group and which can be compared favourably with others (Esler 1996; 1998:42-48; Horowitz 1985:143-147).

This is also applicable to Israelites and their interaction with Gentiles in the ancient Mediterranean world. They were collectivists, and found themselves in an agonistic (competitive) context where one of the primary contests between groups was for honour. They also compared themselves favourably, as “righteous”, having honour, being objects of divine favour as God’s chosen people, as recipients of the covenant, having a distinguished ancestry, and being the privileged recipients of God’s eternal law (Sir 24:9; 33; 1 Bar 4:1; WisSol 18:4; T.Naph. 3:1-2).  The law was also the basis on which the Israelites claimed moral superiority, a kind of social differentiation or comparison that normally exacerbates the denigration and contempt for outgroups (Brewer 1999:435). Gentiles were generally stereotyped as “sinners” (e.g. Jub. 23:24). Of course, the law also served as the reference point for who will resurrect from the dead and enjoy an embodied Israelite afterlife existence.

Second, Israelite ethnic identity also concerns culture, or shared meaning. To participate in an ethnic identity presupposes a shared amount of “knowledge”, or alternatively, a shared symbolic universe (cf Berger & Luckmann 1967; Berger 1973).  The Israelite symbolic universe, for analytical purposes, that is, can be divided as follows:

Main Cultural Features of the Israelite Symbolic Universe:

Sacred Canopy                                              Habitus/Israel
(= “Core Values”)                                         (= “Institutions”)

YHWH (monotheism)                                       Name
Divine Election                                                 Language
The Covenant / The Torah                               Kinship
Millennialism (& The Prophets)                         Land
Shared “Historical” Memories                           Covenantal Praxis (Customs)
Myths of Common Ancestry                              Religion

According to Barth (1969), some cultural features function as emblems of ethnic distinctiveness, while others are played down or even ignored.  Those cultural features which do function to serve the purpose of ethnic differentiation are broadly speaking of the following two types.  Esler (1998:80) explains: “First, there are overt signals or signs, features which people deliberately adopt to show identity (for example, dress, language, architecture and lifestyle).  Second, there are basic value orientations, the norms of morality and excellence used to assess performance” (emphasis original).  The second one plays an important role in identity: “Since belonging to an ethnic category implies being a certain kind of person, having that basic identity, it also implies a claim to be judged, and to judge oneself, by those standards that are relevant to that identity” (Barth 1969:14).  It is proposed here that the features listed under the “Sacred Canopy” correspond to Barth’s basic value orientations, while the features listed under the “Habitus/Israel” set out the more overt signals or signs.  Taking our inspiration from Sanders’ (1977; 1992) notion of covenantal nomism, the former corresponds to “getting in”, and the latter to “staying in” the covenant relationship. 

As Pilch & Malina (1993:xiii) explain, the “word ‘value’ describes some general quality and direction of life that human beings are expected to embody in their behaviour.  A value is a general, normative orientation of action in a social system”.  It speaks to having the right kind of attitudes and adhering to rules of behaviour or communicating similarity, that is, if you as a member of the group want to participate and share in the group’s identity.  Arguably it is with these core values where we will find the greatest degree of agreement among Israelites, constituting the source of their collective consciousness or a “minimal consensus” (Schmidt 2001:23).

If values are the focus points for orientation of action, the way that values are realized are through institutions.  “Institutions mark the general boundaries within which certain qualities and directions of living must take place” (Pilch & Malina 1993:xv).  For our purposes here we can also understand it as the means to maintain Israelite ethnic identity, or “staying in” the covenant relationship by responding to God’s divine election and so forth, and living out the expectations of your co-ethnics, and honouring the customs of the fathers. Here we enter the realm of kashrut laws, ritual purity and immersions, circumcision, Sabbath observance and pilgrimage, tithes and offerings, endogamous marriage strategies and the preservation of the patriarchal family on its ancestral land.

That the ingredients of the Israelite symbolic universe, as represented by the model, is more or less on the right track is illustrated by the following passage from Paul.  In Romans we find an emic description of what it means to be an Israelite, where Paul speaks of his co-ethnics in the following way:

 … my kinsmen according to the flesh, who are Israelites [name]. Theirs is the adoption as sons; theirs the divine glory [YHWH, divine election; kinship], the covenants, the receiving of the law [shared “historical” memories implied], the service/worship of God [covenantal praxis; religion] and the promises [millennialism]. Theirs are the fathers [myths of common ancestry, kinship], and from whom came the Messiah according to the flesh … (Rom 9:4-5).

 Now let us return to the last point of Bauckham, namely that of collective eschatology and the concern for the restoration of Israel. The concept of resurrection in its socio-historical context certainly had more of an ethnic, and not so much “theological” or purely “religious” meaning. When viewed from the perspective of ethnicity theory, and to reiterate, resurrection in the Israelite cycle of meaning was ultimately about Israel and for Israel, about Israelite souls/spirits being reunited with Israelite bodies. It is where the “righteous”, that is, those who adhere to the Judean way of life, are vindicated. It was about Israelites enjoying an embodied life on earth centred on the “mother city” Jerusalem, the place of the temple from where the order of the cosmos is regulated through the sacrificial cult. It was about being the same person, continuing in the previous matrix of relationships and kinship patterns with the added advantages of being freed from foreign political, economic, and socio-cultural domination and oppression. Naturally, this new found freedom and experience of God’s justice will include the presence of Israel’s glorious ancestors, taking into consideration that the ancestors were the source of their ascribed honour and covenant relationship with God. Overall, resurrection was about the continuity of the Israelite ethnos and culture. Israel will be restored, and their symbolic universe will not only exist in theory, but will be experienced in day-to-day social realities.

This brings us to another important consideration, namely, understanding Israelites as seeing themselves as a privileged ethnos. Israelite identity encoded “righteousness” and divine favour. Resurrection can now be appreciated as a means by which Israelites compared themselves favourably with Gentiles, the “sinners” and the “lawless”. Perhaps Gentiles will participate in the eschaton, perhaps they will not. But resurrection was about Israel and for Israel. Resurrection will bring honour to Israel in full view of the nations. Resurrection was about the divine patron vindicating his faithful clients. Honourable Israelite souls/spirits will live in glorious Israelite bodies.

4.         Paul and Jesus’ Resurrection as both affirmation and challenge to the israelite cycle of meaning

For Paul Jesus’ life, death and resurrection was grounded in Israelite tradition (Gal 4:4; Rom 1:2-3; 15:8, 12; 1 Cor 5:7; 19:1-4). Paul specifically says that Jesus, the Messiah of Israel died for our sins/was buried/was raised “according to the scriptures” (1 Cor 15:3). Even his own calling as apostle (Gal 1:15-16 with Jer 1:5 LXX and Isa 49:1, 6 LXX) and the present life of the congregations (Gl 4:21-31) were interpreted from the vantage point of Israelite tradition. Viewed from this perspective we can say it made sense within the Israelite cycle of meaning. At the same time, however, Paul’s understanding of the gospel also posed a challenge to the Israelite cycle of meaning on several fronts (cf Cromhout 2009). To this I would add Paul’s understanding of the resurrection of Jesus. In other words, Paul did not understand Jesus to be an Israelite soul/spirit reunited with an Israelite body who entered an Israelite afterlife existence. This comes to expression in 2 Cor 5:16, a matter to which we will focus on next.

4.1       The Approach to 2 Corinthians

The second letter to the Corinthians is complicated by historical and literary problems, and if there are three features that stand out, it is Paul’s struggle with Israelite opponents, the apologetic nature of the letter where Paul is writing in defence of himself and his co-workers, and lastly, what appears to be the composite nature of the letter, although a minority argue for seeing it as a literary unity (cf Johnson 1986; Keener 2005). Six letter fragments have been identified by historical criticism based on content shifts and grammatical breaks (Duling 2008:820-21):

(1) 1:1-2:13 & 7:5-16 (13:11-13)     Paul attempts reconciliation
(2) 2:14-6:13 & 7:2-4                       developing conflict
(3) 6:14-7:1                                       non-Pauline-sounding dualism
(4) 8                                                   the collection
(5) 9                                                   the collection again
(6) 10-13                                             high conflict

These fragments have been rearranged as follows (when 6:14-7:1 is regarded as inauthentic):

(1) 2:14-6:13 & 7:2-4                         developing conflict
(2) 10-13                                             high conflict
(3) 1:1-2:13 & 7:5-16 (13:11-13)        Paul attempts reconciliation
(4) 8                                                    the collection
(5) 9                                                    the collection again

Overall the Corinthians appear to have been attracted to other apostles (cf 1 Cor 1:12), the overall relationship with the Corinthians appear to be strained, and Paul is attempting (chaps 10-13) and/or was successful to reconcile (2 Cor 7:5-16) with them. In the process, Paul is defining the nature of his apostleship, especially in view of the rivalry he is experiencing with the “super-apostles”. I understand the letter(s) to give evidence of the following major themes:

First, Paul defines the nature of the ministry of the new covenant. God is leading a triumphal procession, and Paul follows as a captive. This implies both his death (suffering for the Gospel), but also his future eternal life.  This is why Paul also speaks of the “fragrance/aroma” that he gives off (2:16), pointing to his life of sacrifice (cf 11:23-29), but more so to the fact that God uses his suffering to spread the knowledge of Jesus’ suffering and sacrifice on the cross.  It is therefore a life of suffering (1:3-11) where the apostles as weak vessels (4:7-18) are placed there by God to be of service to believers (2:14-16; 6:3-10; 7:4-5; 11:23-32; 12:7-10; 13:4). It is to be a minister of the new covenant/the Spirit (3:6) which is far more glorious than the ministry of Moses (3:6-11). It is a ministry that preaches Messiah (4:1-6) and is the ministry of reconciliation (5:18-21).

Second, there is the conflict with rival teachers/apostles (11:19). Paul speaks in defence of his sincerity (1:12-14; 7:2) although he had to change his travel plans (1:15-2:2). This is in contrast to those “super/false apostles” (11:5, 13; 12:11), who commend themselves and have letters of recommendation (3:1). They belittle Paul’s body and speech (10:10; 11:6) and make comparisons and commend themselves (10:12, 18). They make claims about being rhetorically gifted and have knowledge (10:10; 11:6). They perhaps performed miracles (12:12), “boasted” a lot (10:13, 15, 16; 11:12), had visions (12:1-6), “boasted” according to the flesh (11:16-22), as well as in their ministering and toils (11:23). They are more than happy to accept the patronage of the Corinthians (11:7; 12:13). For Paul, however, these rivals are encroaching on his territory (10:13-16). They are peddling the word (2:17), handle themselves with craftiness and deceit (4:2; 11:3), and preach themselves (4:5). They focus on the visible (4:18), boast in appearance (5:12; 10:7), walk according to the flesh (10:2-3), and preach another Jesus (11:4).

Third, Paul attempts reconciliation and wants to restore a broken relationship with the Corinthians, and it appears that he was successful. He initially changed his travel plans to avoid another painful visit (1:15-2:2). Paul made a plea to the congregation to be open to him (6:11-12; 7:2). He instructed that a man be punished (6:11-12) – the punishment was seemingly carried out (7:8-12). We read of the zeal they had for Paul (7:7), and their obedience as they received Titus (7:13-16).

What is important for our present purposes, is that I identify a fourth theme in the letter.  If we have a look at 2:14-6:13 & 7:2-4 we find references to the (old) Judean way of life and the (new) life in the Spirit, that is, to issues that relate to ethnic identity. What we do not encounter here is a contrast between “religions” or “theologies” as such, but rather a contrast between political and kinship patterns, communal ways of living, or contrasts between ethnic identities and their related values and honour claims.  In 3:3, 6 we find a contrast between the old and new covenants, where writing on tablets of stone is set in opposition with the Spirit writing on human hearts. “The letter kills”, Paul says, but the “Spirit gives life”. To paraphrase, what kills is the Judean way of life and identity and the values of Israelite culture. And in a midrash of Exodus 34:29-35 Paul compares the glory of the new covenant and of his own ministry with the ministry of death, that of Moses, the law-giver, which only had a temporary glory (3:7-18). He refers to the minds of the Israelites being blinded, a veil being in place when old covenant/Moses is read (3:14-15), as opposed to those who are being transformed into the Lord’s glorious image (3:18). Paul contrasts the flesh and waging war according to the flesh with the new creation and the spiritual warfare of believers (5:16-17; 10:2-4).

As already mentioned, Israelite identity encoded righteousness and divine favour. It was to belong to a privileged or “better” ethnos. They are the elected, the people of the covenant, descendents of the glorious ancestors, those fortunate ones who have received God’s law, their source of an honourable way of life (Sir 10:19-24; cf Jewett 2003; DeSilva 1996). But Paul is questioning the “advantages” of Israelite ethnic identity (cf Rom 3:1; Phil 3:7), and generally speaking, is dishing out serious insults to traditional Israelite honour!

Ethnic identity issues also appear explicitly in 2 Cor 11:21-22. Duling (2008) sees chapters 10-13 as where Paul’s competition with the rival teachers reaches a climax. 2 Cor 11:21-22 in particular is Paul’s statement about his ethnicity in his own self-defense against the “super-apostles” (11:5; 12:11) who challenge his authority and “boast in the flesh” (11:18 cf 10:2-3).  Chapters 10-13 articulate carefully formulated rhetorical responses to defend his honour, using irony, self-praise (boasting), and comparison as rhetorical strategies (Duling 2008).  Duling explains that in his ethnic self-defence Paul is claiming equivalence.  Being a Hebrew, Israelite, and Abraham’s descendent, he is like the super-apostles, those very ones who “boast” in their Israelite ethnic identity.  “Are they Hebrews? So am I. Are they Israelites? So am I. Are they Abrahams seed? So am I”, Paul can similarly “boast” (verse 22). It is these rivals, or “false apostles” (11:13), who take away the simplicity that is in Messiah and who preach another Jesus (11:3-4), and who commend themselves and travel with letters of recommendation (3:1; 10:12).

When we look at the above there is a very strong correlation between the first, second, and fourth themes and the fragments of developing conflict (2:14-6:13 & 7:2-4) and high conflict (10-13). I therefore suggest that Paul’s description of the ministry of the new covenant and his rivalry with the “super apostles” are closely connected to the matter of ethnic identity. In this regard it is noticeable how often “boasting” (kau,chma) appears in the letter(s) (18 times), and a plausible reason behind it are the claims made by the “super apostles”.  Not merely their social status and rhetorical impressiveness are in view here (Keener 2005:183), but the primary ingredient in the whole mix is their honourable status as ethnic Israelites. There ethnic status, however, is even further enhanced by them being Torah-obedient apostles. No wonder they “boast”. No wonder Paul refers to them as the “super apostles”.

4.2       Jesus’ Resurrection as Challenge to the Israelite Cycle of Meaning

In contrast to the “other Jesus” (11:4) who the “super apostles” preach, Paul brings his own Jesus to the Corinthians in aid of his rivalry with them. “Boast” on our behalf, Paul asks, to answer those who “boast” in outward show (5:12). The death of Messiah means that all died, and his followers should lead a life in his service (5:14-15). And because all have died, from now on “we do not know anyone according to the flesh” (nu/n ouvde,na oi;damen kata. sa,rka). 

Though we once regarded Messiah according to the flesh, we know him as such no longer. Therefore, if anyone is in Messiah, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new (2 Cor 5:16-17).

So what does Paul mean by the “flesh”?  According to Jewett’s exhaustive study of Paul’s anthropological terms, “flesh” is mostly used against the “nomists” (21 times), alternatively it is used against “gnostics” (9 times), libertines (6 times), and the “Divine-Man-Missionaries” (7 times) (Jewett 1971:453). Of interest here is his view on the “Judaizers” (or “nomists”) and the “Divine-Man-Missionaries”. Jewett’s analysis is rich in “theological” description, and proposes Paul created the flesh-spirit categories in response to the threat posed by the “Judaizer” movement. Those who boast in their circumcised flesh (Jewett: “religious Jews”) rest on their own virtuous obedience, or depend on their own accomplishments or human capabilities. In Galatians Paul sets trust or confidence in the (circumcised) flesh in opposition to trust in the Lord and the realm of the spirit. Man is falsely lured into an attempt to depend on it, into the idea that it gives life. Paul stands within a particular apocalyptic tradition where flesh is correlated with the old aeon, the law, slavery, as opposed to the new aeon, freedom, and “the church”. Flesh is rooted for Paul in “religious rebellion in the form of self-righteousness” (1971:114).

In 2 Corinthians 5:16 Paul uses “flesh” for the first time against the “divine man” theology (Jewett 1971:125-127). According to Jewett, Paul’s opponents believed in Christ as the “divine man”, which

shifted the accent radically from his death and weakness to his divine authority and miraculous powers; the belief that the apostolic existence corresponded to Christ’s in its demonstration of the divine life provided the basis of the attack on Paul’s apostolicity because Paul made a weak physical appearance and never pointed to himself as the prototype of the divine power on life. (Jewett 1971:126)

Paul, however, so Jewett maintains, rejects the notion of Jesus being judged by fleshly human standards belonging to the old fleshly aeon.

One can agree we are dealing here with eschatological categories, but Jewett’s “theological” approach misses the main thrust of what Paul is countering. In agreement with Dunn (2008:129, 182, 321), “flesh” is at times used by Paul to refer to Israelite ethnic identity (Rom 2:28; 4:1; 9:3; 11:14; 1 Cor 10:18; Gal 3:3; 4:23, 29; 5:19, 24; 6:8, 12-13; Phil 3:3-5; cf Col 2:11, 13; Eph 2:11-12), and I would argue that 2 Cor 5:16 is one such instance. So it is proposed here that Paul is not countering “Divine-Man-Missionaries”, but rather rival teachers who boast in their Israelite ethnic identity, something made even more impressive by their status as (law-obedient) apostles. They identify with Jesus in this way as a fellow kinsman. (Paul, by contrast, is of questionable status, both as Israelite and as apostle.) They identify with Jesus as an Israelite soul/spirit reunited to an Israelite body, and as someone who entered an Israelite afterlife existence. Their matrix of privilege would include something like the following: Our God. Our Messiah. Our resurrection. Our honour. Our Judean way of life based on the law. Our right – as authentic Israelite apostles – to preach Messiah. It is this Israelite sense of privilege and superiority, and the rival apostles’ identification with that agonistic paradigm (i.e. competition for honour) that Paul counters throughout the letter(s), including 2 Cor 5:16.

That we are dealing here with ethnic categories is also illustrated by language of “newness”. Ethnic and collectivist groups look to the past for present meaning. Present generations were socialised to embody the traditions of their ancestors (cf De Vos 1975:17-19; Malina & Neyrey 1996:166). To change things, or seeking novelty is usually disapproved of in the Tanak.  What is valued is the exact opposite, stability and constancy, and change or novelty is usually met with hostility.  It brings into question the value of tradition by demonstrating disloyalty towards it.  At the heart of resistance to change is conformity to God’s changeless law. So what is valued is compliance, the willingness to conform one’s actions to cultural standards.  Adherence to the law, custom and tradition is a matter of honour (McVann 1993a; 1993b). For Paul, however, a follower of Jesus is a “new creation”, everything has become new. These are strong statements against identifying with ancestral traditions and ethnic/kinship loyalties when appreciated within the context of the ancient Mediterranean world. The element of newness is also present in Paul’s statement that Messiah was the means by which God was reconciling the world – not only Israel – to himself (2 Cor 5:19-21).  Elsewhere Paul speaks of this “mystery” that now has been revealed to all nations in reference to God’s universal intent for salvation (Rom 16:25-26; 1 Cor 2:7; cf. Eph 1:9-10; 3:3-9; 6:19; Col 1:27-28).

Paul’s response in answer to the rival apostles is that yes, we once knew Jesus as an Israelite, but not any more. Paul’s vision or ASC experience of the resurrected Jesus was arguably of such a nature that he did not “see” an Israelite man wearing tassels (tsitsit) or phylacteries (tefillin), or as someone having the need of a circumcised foreskin. What Paul saw was the image of God, the new Adam, a Jesus who is glorious (2 Cor 4:4, 6; cf 1 Cor 15:20-22, 45-49). It is universally agreed that Paul’s vision of the resurrected Jesus was the very occasion when he was called to be an apostle to the Gentiles (Rom 11:13; Gal 1:16). The ethnic implications of this should be appreciated since Paul, the Israelite, somehow came to realise that resurrection or the afterlife was not just about Israel and for Israel. This explains why he so often made recourse to an Adam Christology. God is the divine patron of all human beings.

To be “in Messiah” and to be a “new creation” is therefore to be embedded in alternative institutions of politics, kinship, economics, and religion. Specifically, we are dealing with alternative forms of political religion (e.g. Jesus is Lord, not Ceasar) and domestic (kinship) religion (e.g. the “household of faith”, Gal 6:10; God is “Abba”; Gal 4:6) (cf Malina 1994 on relationship between social institutions). Alternatively, followers of Jesus are now embedded in an alternative ethnos, because Jesus himself, as the new Adam, transcends the traditional ethnic categories. What we find here is a serious challenge to the traditional Israelite cycle of meaning. Whatever “objective reality” Paul experienced it proved not be so “culture specific” – Paul encountered something new, acquired  new experiential knowledge that transformed his cycle of meaning.

5.         Resurrection as Present-Day Challenge

Hagner notes that in the synoptic gospels, we have mixed reactions to the appearances of Jesus. What we find is “the mention of terror, amazement, and fear (Mark 16:8); great distress and doubt (Matt 17:23; 28:16); and fear and confusion (Luke 9:45; 18:34; 24:37) … Resuscitation, let alone resurrection, is not familiar territory” (Hagner 1998:120). Perhaps we have evidence here that the disciples of Jesus made somewhat similar experiences to that of the Apostle Paul. Afterlife notions, “packaged” as resurrection, were on the one hand confirmed, but also challenged.

If Jesus’ resurrection was a challenge to the Israelite cycle of meaning, we can also make this relevant to us today. His resurrection can become a transcultural challenge to notions of the afterlife. In Christian tradition specifically, contemporary notions of the resurrection (or afterlife), in whatever cycles of meaning they may be found, can be seen as continuously open to challenge and transformation through the acquisition of (present day) experiential knowledge. In this way resurrection is not a static dogma, or bound by the chains of cultural subjectivism, but becomes a dynamic element in our cognitive evolution. What we “package” as resurrection points to the “objective event” and is a malleable vehicle in a journey of discovery. As Paul writes: “Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (1 Cor 13:12).

Physicists inform us about our weird and mysterious universe. Particles come into existence and disappear. Where do they come from? Where do they go? A particle can also be at more than one place at the same time. Human consciousness, itself a form of intense scientific investigation, is a form of energy, which in our universe can neither be created nor destroyed. The resurrection of Jesus should be allowed to take up its rightful place in this weird and mysterious universe.

On their site it says:

“An new approach to understanding cultural and ethnic identity in 1st Century Judea, with particular reference to the kind of Judaism presupposed by the Q document.”

Publishing Details are as follows:

ISBN-13: 9780227173220
Specifications: 404pp, Paperback
Price: £30.00 • US$62.50
Publication: February 2010

Let’s begin with the downside. 

What I find missing from the movie is the ultimate “wow” factor. There are little “wows” of emotion along the way, but a knock-out punch is missing, even in the ending when Freeman (playing Mandela) hands over the cup to Damon (playing Pienaar). It is a straight forward story told matter-of-factly. Maybe it’s because I’m so familiar with the story, as all South Africans will be, that there is nothing new or cutting edge about it. Somehow the movie does not do the “wowness” of that time justice.

I also find the physicality of the rugby a bit disappointing. Rugby is far more bone-crunching than this. (That’s why I stopped playing when leaving high school!) Truth be told, the 95 world cup final was never good cinematic material – it was hard and grinding rugby, nothing spectacular. But the true physical – and emotional – intensity of the encounter is lost.

On the up side.

The movie has a high degree of authenticity. The attention to detail is commendable when it comes to clothing and different textures in the movie.

Morgan Freeman and Matt Damon also play their characters pretty well, but in different ways. Freeman does a good job of portraying Mandela’s mannerisms and soft demeanor, while Damon’s Afrikaans accent and being one of the rugby boys surprised me.

More importantly, it captures the spirit of the time pretty accurately. On the one side, white fears and apathy. On the other, black triumphalism and the need for getting even. In between steps Mandela, that is, the political and calculated will of forgiveness and reconciliation. He achieves this through the impossible – Springbok rugby. Who would have thought?

Invictus is certainly a feel good movie giving (or recapturing) a very important message, and although I love rugby and the movie’s subject matter, I will give “District 9″ a higher rating. It’s just more enjoyable to watch.

Invictus Poster

Perhaps the movie comes at an opportune time, especially for South Africans. I remember that day we won the rugby world cup in 1995 and there was a black president, Nelson Mandela (played by Morgan Freeman) in a Springbok jersey, handing over the cup to the Springbok captain, Francois Pienaar (played by Matt Damon).  The movie is about this time period in post-Apartheid South Africa when Mandela became president and his struggle to unite a divided nation. According to the movie President Mandela had a meeting with the Springbok captain to help him achieve this, ie. win the world cup that was hosted by South Africa (although in real life such a meeting never took place – here Eastwood is using a bit of creative license. Francois Pienaar and President Mandela did meet, but they discussed more general matters). 

Anyhow, the euphoria of winning the world cup was great, Mandela handed the cup over to Pienaar, and in front of you was a vision that maybe the idea of a rainbow nation could work. In the very least, the seeds were planted. President Mandela embodied reconciliation as the picture below demonstrates. 

President Mandela handing over the Rugby World Cup trophy to Springbok captain Francois Pienaar

Unfortunately, ethnic relations in SA has, due to poor leadership on several fronts, deteriorated. There is a lot of ethnic tension boiling under the surface – the newspapers and blogs are full of it, and it is getting ugly. Where is wise leadership in SA with insight and vision to deal with this matter sensitively? That is what we desperately need. The fact is, the ANC government has since then shown itself repeatedly incompetent to lead in a moral, effective, and accountable way and have, amongst many other things, exacerbated the problem of ethnic relations. The following cartoon from Zapiro captures the problem of leadership well (posted on the Mail and Guardian website): 

Zapiro Cartoon - Showing how Presidents Mbeki (1999-2009) and Zuma (2009 - ??) simply don't have what it takes to fill Mandela's shoes

President Mandela’s work and example  is now but a faint memory. Sadly, for the greatest part the seeds planted are but withered and dried up shoots. 

Hopefully this movie will help South Africans think back and capture a bit of that magic in 1995. A rainbow nation is possible – it’s a choice. Will our leaders (and ordinary people too) wake up and ”be transformed by the renewing of [their] mind” (Rom 12:2)? – if they don’t, trouble is looming. 

I hope to make a contribution next year to a Festschrift for Prof Andries Van Aarde (University of Pretoria) dealing with ethnic conflict in SA. The Apostle Paul may have some answers for us as we investigate his own personal journey with regards to ethnic relations.