What Does The Scripture Say - ' - Studies in The Function of Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity, Volume 1 - The Synoptic Gospels

‘WHAT DOES THE SCRIPTURE SAY?
Studies in the Function of Scripture in Early Judaism and

Christianity
Volume 1: The Synoptic Gospels
edited by
Craig A. Evans
and
H. Daniel Zacharias
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Evans, C. A., & Zacharias, H. D. (Orgs.). (2013). “What Does the Scripture Say?”: Studies
in the Function of Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity: The Synoptic Gospels (Vol.
1). London; New Delhi; New York; Sydney: Bloomsbury.
Página 1.
Bloomsbury is a registered trade mark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published 2012
Paperback edition first published 2013
© Craig A. Evans, H. Daniel Zacharias, with contributors, 2012
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ISBN: HB: 978-0-567-38350-1
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STUDIES IN SCRIPTURE IN EARLY JUDAISM AND

CHRISTIANITY
Edited by
Craig A. Evans
H. Daniel Zacharias
Volume 17
Published under
LIBRARY OF NEW TESTAMENT STUDIES
469
Formerly Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series
Página 2.
Editor
Mark Goodacre
Editorial Board
John M. G. Barclay, Craig Blomberg, R. Alan Culpepper, James D. G. Dunn, Craig A.
Evans, Stephen Fowl, Robert Fowler, Simon J. Gathercole, John S. Kloppenborg, Michael
Labahn, Robert Wall, Steve Walton, Robert L. Webb, Catrin H. Williams
CONTENTS
Abbreviations
List of Contributors
Preface
INTRODUCING “WHAT DOES THE SCRIPTURE SAY?”: STUDIES IN THE FUNCTION OF
SCRIPTURE IN THE SYNOPTIC GOSPELS
Craig A. Evans and H. Daniel Zacharias
“FASTING” AND “FORTY NIGHTS”: THE MATTHEAN TEMPTATION NARRATIVE (4:1–11) AND
MOSES TYPOLOGY
Daniel M. Gurtner
“LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AS YOURSELF”: (LEVITICUS 19:18B) IN EARLY JEWISH-CHRISTIAN
EXEGETICAL PRACTICE AND MISSIONAL FORMULATION
Christopher N. Chandler
REST, ESCHATOLOGY AND SABBATH IN MATTHEW 11:28–30: AN INVESTIGATION OF JESUS’
OFFER OF REST IN THE LIGHT OF THE SEPTUAGINT’S USE OF ANAPAUSIS
Elizabeth Talbot
ISAIAH 42 AND THE CHARACTERIZATION OF JESUS IN MATTHEW 12:17–21
Alicia D. Myers
BLOOD AND SECRETS: THE RE-TELLING OF GENESIS 1–6 IN 1 ENOCH 6–11 AND ITS ECHOES
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IN SUSANNA AND THE GOSPEL OF MATTHEW
Catherine Sider Hamilton
THE RIDDLE OF THE HOLY ONES IN MATTHEW 27:51B–53: A NEW PROPOSAL FOR A CRUX
INTERPRETUM
Jens Herzer
MESSIANIC EXEGESIS IN MARK 1:2–3
Jocelyn McWhirter
LEVITICAL PURIFICATION IN THE NEW TESTAMENT GOSPELS
Jamal-Dominique Hopkins
A DIFFERENT KIND OF VICTORY: 4Q427 7 I–II AND THE MAGNIFICAT AS LATER
DEVELOPMENTS OF THE HEBREW VICTORY SONG
Amanda C. Miller
BIBLICAL PROPHECY AND THE FATE OF THE NATIONS IN EARLY JEWISH AND CHRISTIAN
INTERPRETATIONS OF ISAIAH
Adam Gregerman
Index of References
Index of Authors
ABBREVIATIONS
AB Anchor Bible
AGJU Arbeiten zur Geschichte des antiken Judentums und des Urchristentums
AJP American Journal of Philology
ASNU Acta seminarii neotestamentici upsaliensis
BBR Bulletin for Biblical Research
BDB Brown, F., S. R. Driver, and C. A. Briggs. A Hebrew and English
Lexicon of the Old Testament. Oxford, 1907
BETL Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium
BHT Beiträge zur historischen Theologie
BI Biblical Illustrator
Bib Biblica
BibInt Biblical Interpretation
BJS Brown Judaic Studies
BNTC Black’s New Testament Commentary
BR Biblical Research
BT The Bible Translator
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BZ Biblische Zeitschrift
BZNW Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft
CahRB Cahiers de la Revue biblique
CBQ Catholic Biblical Quarterly
CBQMS Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series
CBR Currents in Biblical Research
CJT Canadian Journal of Theology
ConBNT Coniectanea biblica, New Testament
CQS Companion to the Qumran Scrolls
CRINT Compendia rerum iudaicarum ad novum testamentum
CTM Concordia Theological Monthly
DT Dalp-Taschenbücher
ETL Ephemerides theologicae lovanienses
ETR Études théologiques et religieuses
ExpTim Expository Times
FOTL Forms of Old Testament Literature
FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments
Greg Gregorianum
HBT Horizons in Biblical Theology
HSM Harvard Semitic Monographs
HTKNT Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament
HTR Harvard Theological Review
HUCA Hebrew Union College Annual
ICC International Critical Commentary
IEJ Israel Exploration Journal
JBL Journal of Biblical Literature
JETS Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society
JJS Journal of Jewish Studies
JQR Jewish Quarterly Review
JSJSup Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman
Period, Supplements
JSNT Journal for the Study of the New Testament
JSNTSup Journal for the Study of the New Testament, Supplement Series
JSOTSup Journal for the Study of the Old Testament, Supplement Series
JSP Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha
JTS Journal of Theological Studies
KD Kerygma und Dogma
LNTS Library of New Testament Studies
LXX Septuagint
MHUC Monographs of the Hebrew Union College
MT Masoretic text
Neot Neotestamentica
Nestle-Aland E. Nestle and K. Aland, eds., Novum Testamentum Graece, 27th ed.
NETS New English Translation of the Septuagint
NIB The New Interpreter’s Bible
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NICNT New International Commentary on the New Testament
NIGTC New International Greek Testament Commentary
NovT Novum Testamentum
NovTSup Novum Testamentum, Supplements
NRSV New Revised Standard Version
NTOA Novum Testamentum et Orbis Antiquus
NTS New Testament Studies
OG Old Greek (LXX)
OTL Old Testament Library
OTP James H. Charlesworth (ed.), Old Testament Pseudepigrapha
RBL Review of Biblical Literature
RevExp Review and Expositor
RevQ Revue de Qumran
RSR Recherches de science religieuse
SBLDS Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series
SBLSCS Society of Biblical Literature Septuagint and Cognate Studies
SBLSP Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers
SBT Studies in Biblical Theology
SEÅ Svensk exegetisk årsbok
Semeia Semeia
SJOT Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament
SNTSMS Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series
SP Sacra Pagina
SPB Studia postbiblica
STDJ Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Judah
THKNT Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament
VTSup Vetus Testamentum, Supplements
WBC Word Biblical Commentary
WTJ Westminster Theological Journal
WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament
ZAW Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft
ZNW Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft
ZST Zeitschrift für systematische Theologie
ZTK Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche
LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS
Christopher N. Chandler, St. Mary’s College, University of St. Andrews
Craig A. Evans, Acadia Divinity College, Acadia University
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Adam Gregerman, Loyola University Maryland
Daniel M. Gurtner, Bethel University
Catherine Sider Hamilton, Wycliffe College
Jens Herzer, University of Leipzig
Jamal-Dominique Hopkins, Interdenominational Theological Center
Jocelyn McWhirter, Albion College
Amanda C. Miller, Belmont University
Alicia D. Myers, Baylor University
Elizabeth Talbot, University of Gloucestershire
H. Daniel Zacharias, Acadia Divinity College, Acadia University
PREFACE
The papers included in this volume were originally presented at the 2008 and 2009 annual
meetings of the Society of Biblical Literature. The Editors thank the contributors for their
willingness to revise and update their papers and allow them to be published in the Studies
in Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity series. This year marks the twentieth
anniversary of the founding of the Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity program unit
in the Society of Biblical Literature and the series, originally published by Sheffield
Academic Press, now T&T Clark International.
“What Does the Scripture Say?” makes up the seventeenth and eighteenth volumes to
appear in the series. Volume 17 (Part One) focuses on sacred Scripture in the Synoptic
Gospels. Volume 18 (Part Two) focuses on letters and liturgical traditions. Appended to this
volume is a selected bibliography. The Editors are grateful to the many participants and
contributors through the years, whose work has made both the program unit and the
published volumes a success.
Craig A. Evans
H. Daniel Zacharias
Acadia Divinity College
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INTRODUCING “WHAT DOES THE SCRIPTURE SAY?”: STUDIES
IN THE FUNCTION OF SCRIPTURE IN THE SYNOPTIC GOSPELS
Craig A. Evans and H. Daniel Zacharias
The present collection of studies focuses on the function of Scripture in the New Testament
Gospels and letters of the apostle Paul. In keeping with the approach taken in previous
collections of studies in the SSEJC series, the present assortment of studies explores new
methods and overlooked traditions that appear to shed light on how the founders of the
Christian movement understood the older sacred tradition and sought new and creative
ways to let it speak to their own times.
Our volume begins with Daniel M. Gurtner’s study of the Matthean version of the
temptation narrative. His essay examines the unique reference to “forty days and forty
nights,” an expansion of Mark’s “forty days” (Mark 1:12) in Matthew’s narrative of Jesus’
temptation (Matt 4:2). Though scholars routinely recognize the influence of Exod 34:28
and Deut 9:9 on the Matthean text, why the evangelist expands the wording to reflect these
texts has not been explained. Gurtner argues that Matthew draws from these texts and
makes other significant redactional features to depict Jesus as a “New Moses” not yet
primarily in the capacity of a “lawgiver”—rather, in that of a mediator.
Christopher N. Chandler investigates the well-known exhortation to “love your
neighbour as yourself” from Lev 19:18b, which became a central maxim of Jesus and the
early Christian movement. Yet the meaning of this expression attributed to Jesus and the
New Testament authors is often taken for granted as a universalizing principle. The central
ethic of the Jesus movement, “love,” is therefore either understood as a kind/gentle attitude
or is left rather undefined and vague. Chandler believes this discussion needs more nuance.
He draws upon Jewish exegetical traditions surrounding Lev 19:15–18 and suggests that
both Jesus and his brother James understand Lev 19:18b not merely as a summary of the
entire Torah, but firstly as a summary of the laws governing just legal judging in Lev
19:15–18a. Although Paul and Luke, engaged as they are in the Gentile mission, apply with
rigour this principle of “love” in a much broader universalizing manner in order to promote
inclusiveness among Jewish/Gentile relations, this interpretation of the love commandment
should not necessarily be assumed to be the sole view or use of Lev 19:18b in every case in
the New Testament. The conclusion reached in Chandler’s essay is that “love your
neighbour as yourself” was not only viewed by early Jewish Christians as an ethical
principle of universalizing peaceful relations between ethnicities, but was also seen to have
ethical implications to do justice to one’s neighbour in the judicial system as well.
Elizabeth Talbot re-examines Jesus’ offer of rest in Matt 11:28–30, one of the most
unusual sayings in the Synoptic dominical tradition. She considers the Matthean context
and then explores the antecedent traditions, especially the meaning of ἀνάπαυσις in the
LXX. She acknowledges the wisdom parallels but believes in the context of Matthew the
promise of rest is part of the evangelist’s portrait of Jesus as the eschatological David
through whom the kingdom and rest for Israel will come about.
In her study, Alicia D. Myers explores in what ways the evangelist Matthew’s appeal to
Isa 42:1–4 in Matt 12:17–21 affects the characterization of Jesus in his Gospel. Although
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scholars have generally abandoned the thesis that this Old Testament quotation presents
Jesus as the “Suffering Servant,” many scholars still consider this passage to emphasize
Jesus’ submissiveness as God’s “servant.” However, Myers’s essay challenges this
traditional interpretation with a new analysis of Matt 12 in its literary and socio-cultural
context. The study begins with an argument that Matt 12:17–21 appears in the midst of an
inclusio surrounded by 11:2–24 and 14:1–12, both of which recount different aspects of
John the Baptist’s conflict with Herod Antipas. Next, her essay tries to show how awareness
of this larger context reveals the crucial connection of “reed” (11:7–8; 12:20) and kingship
in Matthew’s Gospel. This connection is particularly significant since it raises the
possibility that the “bruised reed” and “smoldering wick” are none other than impotent
kings, like Herod Antipas, whom Jesus will replace with the establishment of God’s justice.
This new reading takes seriously the temporal conjunction “until” in 12:20 as indicative of
the time when Jesus will destroy these unjust rulers: namely, when he brings forth justice to
victory. Finally, her study hopes to demonstrate how Matthew’s appeal to Isa 42 resonates
with the concept of “ideal kingship” in Mediterranean antiquity, which emphasizes the
intimate relationship between king and deity, the need for a king to be both a servant of the
deity and the people, and the role of a king as the one who both establishes and embodies
justice. From her analysis, Myers concludes that rather than portraying Jesus as a non-
confrontational servant, Matthew’s use of Isa 42 contributes to his consistent presentation
of Jesus as God’s divinely appointed king.
Catherine Sider Hamilton investigates 1 En. 6–11 as a retelling of Gen. 3–6. She is
especially interested in how this retelling of Scripture has influenced the book of Susanna
and the Gospel of Matthew. 1 Enoch 6–11 has long been recognized as one of the earliest
instances of re-written Bible, an “ancient Biblical expansion” (Devorah Dimant) that reads
the story of Noah and the flood (Gen 6–9) through the myth of the Watchers and the
women. Hamilton wonders if 1 En. 6–11 is a more complex piece of biblical interpretation
than the standard reading allows. Verbal links, she suggests, connect 1 En. 6–11 to two
other stories from Genesis: Cain and Abel and the blood poured out on the ground (Gen.
4:10, 1 En. 9:1–2 et passim), and Eve and the serpent (Gen. 3:1–13; 1 En. 9:4–6)—woman
learning the secret knowledge of the gods. Her essay argues, first, that 1 En. 6–11
intertwines these two foundational stories from Genesis with the story of Noah and the
Flood and the Shemihazah myth to create a new and powerful tale of the problem of evil
and its divine resolution, a tale haunted by corrupting powers and innocent blood and the
desolation of the land, a tale with cosmic and eschatological import and not, in the end,
devoid of hope. She further argues that 1 Enoch’s re-reading of Genesis influences two
other apparently widely separated texts: the book of Susanna and the passion narrative of
the Gospel of Matthew. Both of these narratives allude to or—in the case of Susanna—
quote 1 En. 6–11, both revolve around the problem of innocent blood and the fate of the
land, both understand the problem as a story of corruption and purgation and creation
restored—through the lens, that is, of 1 Enoch’s rewritten Genesis.
Perhaps the oddest tradition in the resurrection narratives is Matt 27:51b–53, which tells
a short story about the resurrection of “the Holy Ones” immediately after Jesus’ death and
their appearance in the holy city. The understanding of this passage is notoriously difficult,
as shown by many different and sometimes contradictory interpretations. Beyond the usual
tradition-historical approaches, Jens Herzer’s essay seeks to explain the various aspects of
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the story from an intratextual perspective within the context of Matthew’s Gospel. Among
other methodological considerations, the perspective of reader response criticism opens up
surprising possibilities in order to better understand the meaning and the function as well as
the pragmatic and theological significance of this unique passage for Matthew’s story of
Jesus. Herzer’s study argues that the story is not about a partial and prospective
resurrection, as commonly assumed. It rather refers to the holy ones, whose tombs are
already mentioned in Matt 23 and who are coming into the holy city to witness to the
meaningful death of Jesus and at the same time against those who are responsible for it.
Joceyln McWhirter contends that the citation of Exod 23:20, Mal 3:1, and Isa 40:3 in
Mark 1:2–3 does not necessarily reflect a “New Exodus” theology. In any case, it can be
seen as the result of messianic exegesis. Once one establishes that Ps 118:26 concerns the
Messiah, one can read Isa 40:1–11 as a messianic prophecy, since both passages concern a
“Lord” who “comes.” Mark has evidently used shared vocabulary such as “send,”
“messenger,” “prepare,” and “way” to conflate Exod 23:30 and Mal 3:1 with Isa 40:3. This
extends christological interpretation to all three passages. Messianic exegesis can also
account for how Mark uses this shared vocabulary to tell the story of Jesus. Significant
combinations among the words “Lord,” “send,” “messenger,” “prepare,” and “way”
together with the verb “come” appear in Mark 6:6–13; 11:1–10; 13:26–27; and 14:12–17.
McWhirter finds that for Mark, Jesus is the prophesied Messiah who comes to Galilee
(1:14) and Jerusalem (11:9; 14:17), sending disciples to prepare the way (6:6–13; 11:1–10;
14:12–17). Even though the way to Jerusalem is the way of suffering and death (8:27–38;
9:30–37; 10:32–52), the suffering ends when the Messiah comes with the clouds, sending
out his messengers one last time (13:26–27).
Jamal-Dominique Hopkins investigates the manner in which Jesus engages questions
and persons regarding purity and impurity. He is especially interested in the role played by
Leviticus, inquiring to what extent, if any, Jesus was interested in outward purity. With this
question in mind, Hopkins investigates Mark 7, exploring the cultural and religious
dynamics that he thinks led to a lack of social, cultural, and religious egalitarianism due to
certain Levitical purity laws. Hopkins inquires into what really constituted purity and
impurity among Jews in late antiquity and how it is that in time the followers of Jesus
would abandon Jewish laws and traditions, traditions that historically distinguished Jews
from Gentiles.
Amanda C. Miller notes that victory songs are a generally acknowledged, if hard to
define, category of Hebrew poetry. In the purest form, they are directly connected to a
battle scene (e.g. Moses’ and Miriam’s songs, Deborah’s song) where God has brought
about a miraculous triumph for the Hebrews and a violent defeat for their enemies. But the
tradition also eventually encompassed other areas of life. Hannah’s song, replete with
military imagery and rejoicing over the downfall of her enemies, is sung not on a
battlefield, but at the dedication of a small boy to the service of Yahweh. Mary’s song in
Luke 1, the Magnificat, is often identified as having strong identifications with the victory
songs of the Hebrew Bible, especially Hannah’s song. Another parallel for the Magnificat is
presented in Miller’s study: the so-called self-glorification hymn from the Qumran hodayot,
found in its most complete form in 4Q427 fragment 7. Her essay argues that these two
songs were both originally independent from their current settings and represent a later
development in the victory hymn tradition, when victory had to be defined more
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eschatologically. The two hymns are evaluated in comparison to each another and to four
Hebrew-style victory hymns: Judg 5, 1 Sam 2, Jdt 16, and 1QM col. 14. Four specific areas
are explored: the image and role of God, the image and role of humanity, reversal themes,
and eschatology. The most significant areas of change are found in the final two areas.
Reversal themes, for example, are common in victory hymns, but generally for the purposes
of war. In these later interpretations of the tradition, though, reversals have a more universal
nuance. The author concludes that over the centuries, the Hebrew victory hymn appears to
have undergone a gradual change from pure war imagery to a more social and
eschatological orientation.
Our volume concludes with a study by Adam Gregerman, who argues that studies of
early Christian proselytism to Gentiles are largely focused on missionary methods or the
socialization/education of converts and give less attention to missionary motivation. It is
often assumed that Christians naturally assigned a positive value to preaching to Gentiles,
but the reasons for this are seldom explored. However, Christians’ theological justifications
for supporting missionary activity need further investigation, Gregerman contends, for they
rest on complex ideas about the religious status and fate of the Gentiles, and the practical
needs of emerging Gentile churches. Using Luke’s writings, which are devoted to
demonstrating the legitimacy and desirability of mission, Gregerman investigates the issue
of missionary motivation and focuses on Luke’s use of Isaiah’s idea of a “light to the
nations” (Luke 2:32; Acts 13:47; 26:18, 23). Luke, he argues, interprets this idea in
soteriological and ecclesiological terms for a late-first century majority- or exclusively
Gentile church. The Gentile mission is a prophesied extension of the Jewish covenant with
God, and motivated by a desire to extend to Gentiles the spiritual “benefits of membership”
formerly limited to Jews. Importantly, these benefits, while soteriological (comprising
salvation, eternal life, forgiveness of sins), are not primarily eschatological. Rather, Luke,
drawing on Isaiah, emphasizes the present desirability of bringing Gentiles into originally
Jewish churches. That is to say, God wants the “light” to go to them now. To highlight
Luke’s emphases, Gregerman employs a comparative method, situating Luke’s views in
Jewish discourse about proselytism and the Gentiles’ fate. Gregerman contrasts Jewish
interpretations of Isaiah’s idea (Targum and LXX Isaiah; Sib. Or. 3; Wis 18; Tobit 13; 1 En.
48). This comparison is illuminating because the Jewish texts, by contrast, reveal little
interest in proselytism and emphasize eschatological hopes. Gregerman explores the
historical and theological reasons for such differences from Luke’s use of Isaiah to
encourage proselytism and inclusion of Gentiles in contemporary churches.
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“FASTING” AND “FORTY NIGHTS”: THE MATTHEAN
TEMPTATION NARRATIVE (4:1–11) AND MOSES TYPOLOGY*
Daniel M. Gurtner
“FASTING” AND “FORTY NIGHTS”: THE MATTHEAN

TEMPTATION NARRATIVE (4:1–11) AND MOSES TYPOLOGY*
Daniel M. Gurtner
1. Introduction
That the author of the Gospel of Matthew portrays his Jesus as a Moses-like figure is
nothing new to Matthean scholarship. Dale Allison’s seeing fit to produce a nearly 400 page
monograph on the subject while working on his magisterial three-volume commentary on
the first Gospel is itself a testament to the prevalence of this portrayal. For all the
discussion that has arisen concerning the Moses typology in Matthew, one instance seems
to require further discussion in light of its reflecting language from the Exodus tradition on
which it seems to draw—namely, the temptation narrative (Matt 4:1–11), where reference is
made, uniquely by Matthew, to Jesus’ fasting for “forty days and forty nights.”
All three Synoptics record Jesus’ being in the wilderness forty days (Mark 1:13//Matt
4:2//Luke 4:2), but they differ in other points. Mark simply indicates Jesus’ presence “in the
wilderness” (ἐν τῇ ἐρήμῳ) for forty days, there “being tempted by Satan”
(πειραζόμενος ὑπὸ τοῦ σατανᾶ). He (uniquely) mentions the presence of wild
animals (καὶ ἦν μετὰ τῶν θηρίων) but makes no mention of lacking food or drink.
Luke’s account (4:2) also mentions Jesus’ being tempted (πειραζόμενος), but here it is
“by the devil” (ὑπὸ τοῦ διαβόλου). Luke mentions both lack of food (καὶ οὐκ
ἔφαγεν οὐδὲν) and hunger (καὶ συντελεσθεισῶν αὐτῶν ἐπείνασεν), each absent
from Mark.
Matthew’s rendering is expansive on several important fronts. First, he explicitly
mentions Jesus fasting (νηστεύω) and emphatically repeats his lack of sustenance
(ὕστερον ἐπείνασεν). Matthew’s choice of terms is perhaps more christologically
enhanced than that of Luke, since in Luke Jesus simply did not eat anything, whereas
Matthew’s choice of “fasting” may suggest a deliberate, active choice on his part to refrain
from food, which fasting he later describes as an “act of righteousness” (6:1, 16–18). Next,
whereas Mark/Luke both read the tempting as lasting 40 days, Matthew explicitly says it
was the fasting which lasted that long. Moreover, his expansion includes not only forty
days, as in Mark and Luke, but also forty nights (καὶ νύκτας τεσσεράκοντα). Further
comparisons will be considered below in a contextual analysis of Matthean redaction. The
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primary question raised here, however, is: Why the inclusion of “fasting” and the expansion
to include “and forty nights”? These are questions the present study seeks to address.
2. The Matthean “Fasting” and “Forty Nights” in Recent Scholarship

While much scholarly discussion has surfaced pertaining to the “temptation narrative” as a
whole, relatively little has been done to address the uniquely Matthean insertion of fasting
and of forty nights, particularly as it relates to other redactional features in the pericope.
Davies and Allison comment that Luke’s ἔφαγεν οὐδέν “might be influenced by Exod
34:28 or Deut 9:9,” but say nothing further about the matter. On the matter of Matthew’s
“forty nights,” they note it is “no doubt primarily prompted by Exod 34:28 and Deut 9:9,
where we read that Moses ate nothing for forty days and forty nights,” but again offer no
further conclusions on why this addition is placed here and what its contribution might be.
Ulrich Luz comments simply that “Jesus fasts not only forty days but also at night, as
Moses (Exod 24:18; 34:28; Deut 9:9, 11, 18, 25; 10:10) and Elijah (1 Kgs 19:8) did.” He
adds, following Allison’s New Moses, that the connection with forty days and nights is used
exclusively for Moses in early Jewish and early Christian tradition. As with Davies and
Allison, Luz makes no comment on the purpose or contribution of such a connection. John
Nolland comments: “Matthew’s addition of ‘and nights’ may be no more than a logical
completion for the sake of emphasis (cf. Matt 14:21; 15:38), but, given the Moses typology
of chap. 2, it is more likely to echo the forty days and forty nights of Moses’ fast before
God (Ex. 34:28; Dt. 9:9).” This is an important observation, but likewise falls short of
explaining why the typology is present here. Donald Hagner helpfully observes that “the
reference to Moses’ fasting for forty days and nights in Deut 9:9 occurs … in the context of
Deut 6–9, which serves as the basis of the passage.” While he recognizes the insertion, he
fails to comment on if or how it may contribute. Robert Gundry also draws some
comparisons with Moses, but falls short of typology and makes no apparent attempt to
clarify why the Moses comparison is placed at this point. Similarly, R. T. France mentions
that the insertion of “and forty nights” may recall Moses on Sinai or Elijah in the
wilderness, but concludes that it “more obviously serves as a reminder of Israel’s “forty
years” of privation and testing.”
The most complete treatment of this subject, of course, is found in Allison’s monograph
on the Matthean Moses typology. Allison provides a thorough discussion of the entire
Matthean temptation story (4:1–11). Though tracing the similarities between the Israelite
experiences and those of Jesus, he notes that the “and forty nights” is unique to Matthew
and suggests it is employed “as part of a strategy to recall the lawgiver.” Allison’s point
here—that the pericope in general and the present redaction in particular are primarily a
Moses-typology—coheres well with other Matthean redactional elements considered later
in the present study. What requires further consideration at present, though, is the
contribution of the Moses-typology at this point in the narrative. And, consequently, is the
use of Moses-typology primarily one to depict Jesus as a “Law-giver”? I will argue below
that Matthew’s redactional insertion of “forty nights” draws from Moses texts in biblical
pericopae where Moses is presented not as the “Law-giver” but as the “Law-receiver” and,
more specifically, as a “mediator.” Moreover, other features of Matthean redaction in the
pericope point readers to the same Mosaic texts and seem to affirm that the primary
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typology in view is one of covenant mediation. We will see that even Jesus’ quotations from
Deuteronomy in response to his tempter likewise draw from a covenant-mediating context.
Before we can understand Matthew’s use of “forty days and forty nights,” however, we
need to examine the phrase in its original biblical context, both to explore its origins, and to
pick up contextual clues about the portrayal of Moses within them that may be taken over
by the first evangelist.
3. Fasting and Forty Nights in Exodus/Deuteronomy Contexts

Scholars have recognized that the Matthean “Temptation Narrative” (Matt 4:1–11) draws
heavily on Deut 6–9. Deuteronomy 9:9 is particularly underscored as the source for
Matthew’s language. In the context (Deut 9:9–18), Moses recounts his ascent up Sinai to
receive the Law. This context itself, however, is but a recollection of the original events
described twice in Exodus: the initial reception of the stone tablets at Sinai (24:18), and
then Moses’ return to receive replacements (34:28).
a. Exodus 24:18
The initial ascent of Moses up Sinai occurs in the context of a dramatic theophany. A cloud
descends on the mountain and covers it (24:15). The glory of God (ἡ δόξα τοῦ θεοῦ;
MT ‫ )כבוד יהוה‬envelops it for six days (24:16), after which the Lord summons Moses on
the seventh day. Then the glory of the Lord appears like a “consuming fire on the mountain
top” (24:17 NAS). All this is before the Israelites. Undoubtedly the cloud has struck fear into
the hearts of some (compare Exod 19:16; Heb 12:18–20). But Moses (24:18) boldly enters
into its midst (εἰς τὸ μέσον τῆς νεφέλης) and ascends into the mountain. There he
remains (ἦν ἐκεῖ) for forty days and forty nights (τεσσεράκοντα ἡμέρας καὶ
τεσσεράκοντα νύκτας; see Exod 34:28; Deut 9:9). No mention of fasting is found in
this context. Instead, the prior context (24:10–11) reports eating and drinking. (Readers
must look to subsequent texts [Exod 34:28; Deut 9:9] to learn that Moses was not eating.)
Eating before someone is an acknowledgment of that person’s authority and the eater’s
dependence and vulnerability before him (cf. 1 Kgs 1:25; Ezek 44:3). Furthermore, feasting
occurs upon the termination of covenant negotiations (Gen 26:28–31; 31:44–54; Josh 9:11–
15; 2 Sam 3:20–21; Isa 55:1–3). The context here is recognized as the climax of the
ratification of the Sinai covenant.
The use of “forty days” is often used to indicate an extended period of time associated
with purification and purging of sin. The expanded phrase “forty days and forty nights”
seems to “constitute the proper time for the completion of a lengthy process,” such as the
flood (Gen 7:4, 12; cf. Jub. 5:25; 4Q422 2:7), embalming, Nineveh’s repentance, or, as
here, preparing for receipt of the Law (Exod 24:18; 34:28; Deut 9:9, 11, 18, 25; 10:10).
Propp suggests that in this context the reading “and forty nights” may preclude the
impression that Moses fasted only during the daylight. Cumulatively, we see Moses’
presence on Sinai for “forty days and forty nights” in the context of the completion of a
particular task and in the broad context of covenant ratification. There is no mention, at
least at this point, of Moses’ giving the Law to the Israelites. This occurs after the Sinai
experience. So here at 24:18, Moses is not (yet) a Law-giver but a Law-receiver on behalf
of Israel, a covenant mediator.
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b. Exodus 34:28
The next reference to Moses’ presence on Sinai for forty days and nights occurs in Exod 34,
a chapter where Moses returns to Sinai a second time for the reception of replacement stone
tablets. The command is given to Moses to write (34:27) ‫את הדברים האלה‬, a
phrase repeated at the outset of Deuteronomy, presumably the recounting of the
commandments in Exod 34:14–26. Moses, at the top of Mount Sinai at God’s command
(34:2), was “there with the Lord” ( 34:28 ,‫)עם יהוה‬, or as the LXX has it, “before the
Lord” (ἐναντίον κυρίου), for forty days and forty nights without eating bread or
drinking water. Though the word “fasting” is absent from both the MT and LXX, we have a
reference to eating and drinking nothing.
Moses’ task there is clearly one of receiving the words of the covenant: the Ten
Commandments. It is after his descent from the mountain that Moses gives the
commandments to the Israelites (34:32). That is, Moses’ portrayal as the “lawgiver”
(Allison’s term) occurs subsequent to his period of forty days and nights. What occurs
during the forty days and nights is not a giving of the Law by Moses, but his receiving it as
the mediator on behalf of Israel and his receiving the covenant it represents.
c. Deuteronomy 9:9
In Deut 9:7–10:11 Moses recounts his reception of the Law (Exod 24:18), when he went up
the mountain to receive the “tablets of stone,” the “covenant” ( ‫ ;ברית‬διαθήκη) made
with them by the Lord. It was then that he remained on the mountain forty days and forty
nights. He claims to have eaten no bread and drunk no water (9:9). Moses’ fast was
explicitly intercessory in nature: “forty days and nights; I neither ate bread nor drank water,
because of all your sin which you had committed in doing what was evil in the sight of the
LORD to provoke Him to anger” (Deut 9:18 NAS). That Deut 10:10 mentions fasting for
forty days and nights “as I did the first time” suggests that he fasted on both the two Exodus
occasions (Exod 24:18; 34:28). Moreover, the verse continues, “and the LORD listened to
me that time also; the LORD was not willing to destroy you” (Deut 10:10 NAS), suggesting
likewise that on both occasions his forty day/night fast was intercessory in nature. The
entire pericope is an exhortation for Israel to remember “and never forget” their
provocation of the Lord to anger in the desert. Moses here functions as a “powerful
intercessor” without whom Israel “would have been lost.”
d. Summary
We have seen that in the context of fasting and forty days and forty nights, Moses is always
in view. So, following Allison, it is right to see Moses- rather than Israel-typology as
primarily in focus. In each instance, though, we see Moses not as a Law-giver but as a Law-
receiver, a covenant mediator on behalf of his people. His role as “Law-giver” is, of course,
an aspect of his covenant mediation. However, his giving of the Law to the people occurs
only after his descent from the mountain and subsequent to the texts to which Matthew
most clearly points the reader. So far, however, we have only looked at the presence of
“fasting” and the expression “forty days and forty nights” for these observations. Our task
now is to look at other features of Matthean redaction to see what they may contribute.
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4. Fasting and Forty Nights in Early Judaism
Fasting, of course, is a common theme found across biblical and Second Temple Jewish
writings, as is the number forty. Adam is said to have fasted forty days in repentance (Adam
and Eve 6:1). Explicit connection to the Moses tradition, though, is quite limited.
Recounting the Exodus account in Jub. 1, the author begins his narration in the first year of
the Israelites” exodus from Egypt (Jub. 1:1). In that first verse God spoke to Moses,
imploring him to ascend the mountain to receive the “the two tablets of stone of the law and
of the commandment which I have written” so that “you may teach them” (Jub. 1:1). Then
it describes Moses’ ascent up the mountain (1:2), the appearance of the Lord (1:3) and
Moses’ presence on the mount “forty days and forty nights” (1:4a). It was there that God
“taught him the earlier and the later history of the division of all the days of the law and of
the testimony” (1:4b). Then Moses is told to write in a book what he is told on the
mountain (1:4b–6) and told how the people will be rebellious (1:7–18). Then in a climactic
scene Moses intercedes for the people with a stirring prayer (1:19–21), and the Lord
anticipates their restoration. As we have seen in Exodus and Deuteronomy, Moses is here
depicted surely as a Law-receiver and teacher, but arguably also as a covenant intercessor.
Allison cites Apocalypse of Abraham 12, where Abraham fasts forty days and nights. This
is just “one of several features which make the patriarch very much like the Moses of
Jewish lore.” Pseudo-Philo (L.A.B. 11:15) recounts that upon Moses stay with God of forty
days and nights, not only did God command him but also “showed him the tree of life” and
gave him instructions for the tabernacle that the Lord might dwell among his people. Philo
(Som. 1:36) reports that at Moses’ experience in Exod 24:18 he heard music. These
traditions are of varying degrees of helpfulness for our purpose. The most important, it
seems, is that again we can see that Moses’ experience on Sinai was one of forty days and
nights in duration, and one in which he provided intercession or mediation of the covenant.
5. Further Matthean Redaction

Having traced in part the source of Matthew’s redactional allusion to fasting and forty
nights, we will now look briefly at other Matthean redactional features in the pericope.
a. “… but on every word which proceeds from the mouth of God”
Significant Matthean redaction is found in v. 4, where Jesus answers his tempter. Both
Matthew and Luke employ the formulaic γέγραπται, followed by οὐκ ἐπʼ ἄρτῳ
μόνῳ ζήσεται ὁ ἄνθρωπος, from Deut 8:3. Luke, however, ends the quotation there,
whereas Matthew continues the quotation: ἀλλʼ ἐπὶ παντὶ ῥηματι ἐκπορευομένῳ
διὰ στόματος θεοῦ. The context of Deut 8:3 is a profound description of the purposes
of Israel’s wilderness testings. They occurred “that he might teach you” that bread alone
(μόνος) is not the means of one’s sustenance, but also “every word which proceeds from
the mouth of God.” Davies and Allison comment that Matthew’s expansion here is “in
accordance with his interest in obedience to the Torah.” This is an important observation,
for it sets up further affirmations of the Law articulated in 5:17–20. Moreover, the addition
is taken from a context where Moses exhorts the Israelites to attend carefully to the Law
(Deut 8:1) and to remember what the Lord has done for them (Deut 8:2). In Deut 8, the
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covenant mediator may be mediating to Israel by exhorting adherence to the Law, but
Matthew does not use it in precisely the same way. There are no disciples or Israelites
present to receive the New Moses’ teaching. Instead, the redactional emphasis simply draws
the reader’s attention to Jesus’ explicit affirmation of the Word of God. Again, this may
anticipate what he will do in the Sermon on the Mount, among other places.
b. “… to an exceedingly high mountain …”
Another significant Matthean redaction is found in Matt 4:5//Luke 4:5. In Luke’s account,
Jesus is lifted up and is shown a vision (καὶ ἀναγαγὼν αὐτὸν ἔδειξεν αὐτῷ).
Matthew’s description is more vivid: the devil takes Jesus up to an exceedingly high
mountain (εἰς ὄρος ὑψηλὸν λίαν) to show him the kingdoms and their glory. Why
mention a mountain (ὄρος) here? Davies and Allison note that elsewhere Matthew adds
references to mountains to his source (5:1; 8:1; 15:29; 28:16), though they doubt this
contributes to a Moses typology. Yet they give no consideration to the most important
Mosaic ascent of a mountain, to which Matthew has already drawn his readers’ attention, at
Sinai (Exod 24:18; 34:28–29; Deut 9:9, all of these making reference to the mountain [εἰς
τὸ ὄρος]). Instead, his location is one at which he receives the Law on behalf of the
people. Matthew’s unique insertion of this material seems to cohere with his other
redactional tendencies in the pericope, to direct the reader to Moses’ Sinai experience.
6. Cumulative Redaction and Conclusion

Cumulatively, Matthean redaction at these points in the pericope direct the readers’
attention to Moses’ presence at Sinai. We have seen that in the texts to which Matthew’s
redactional hand directs the reader, Moses is not functioning as a “Law-giver,” at least not
yet. It seems that the “Law-giver” typology is begun most explicitly at Matt 5:1, where
Jesus ascends the mountain and sits down to teach. In the temptation narrative, however,
readers are brought to scenes where Moses is on Mt. Sinai, meeting with God on behalf of
the people in order to receive the Law. Matthew’s redactional attention to select pericopae
in the Moses-drama, coupled with his citation from select portions of Deuteronomy,
presents Jesus as a mediator. This is not to deny Jesus as a Mosaic Law-giver in Matthew. It
is instead to attend carefully to how Jesus is portrayed in the temptation narrative and to
make sense of his Mosaic typology in the rest of Matthew. Perhaps this, in some sense,
anticipates the events of Matt 26:28, where Jesus institutes the new covenant in his blood,
poured out for many for the remission of sins. That pericope likewise looks back to Moses
at Sinai (Exod 24:8; cf. Zech 9:11).
“LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AS YOURSELF” (LEVITICUS 19:18B)

IN EARLY JEWISH-CHRISTIAN EXEGETICAL PRACTICE AND
MISSIONAL FORMULATION
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Christopher N. Chandler
1. Introduction: Love as the Central Maxim of Christianity

The well-known philosopher and theologian Albert Schweitzer sums up his philosophical
principle of “reverence for life” as an “active ethic of love.” Schweitzer defined this love,
of course, in humanitarian terms: it was opposite to the torture of human beings, as for
example in the medieval period, and was by contrast respectful of one’s own life and all
other life, including for example the people, hippos, and ants Schweitzer encountered in his
medical mission in Gabon, West Africa. It was this kind of love—this “reverence for
life”—which Schweitzer believed both Jesus and Paul advocated, as evidenced not least by
their adherence to the “great commandments of love and mercy”—a reference to Lev
19:18b.
Schweitzer has not been the only scholar of the historical Jesus to paint Jesus as one
who advocated an ethic of love. Noted British Neutestamentler and theologian John Riches,
in his Jesus and the Transformation of Judaism (1980), takes a stance not far from
Schweitzer’s. Since Jesus lived within the Judaism of his day, reasons Riches, in order for
communication to be possible Jesus had to make use of language which was commonly
understood in that day. However, although Jesus used terms which would have been
intelligible to Jews living in that context, such as “kingdom of God” or “son of man,” and
so on, Jesus transformed this well-known language by charging it with new, perhaps
unexpected, meaning. Thus, for example, the “kingdom of God” is not something which
will come by the violent overthrow of Israel’s Roman oppressors as the Zealots and those at
Qumran thought, but something which comes peacefully, working amidst current
oppression. Arguing similarly in his penultimate chapter, Riches opines that the common,
standard view of God among Pharisees, Essenes, Zealots and the like was that God is a God
of judgment who will punish Israel’s enemies. By contrast, Jesus, so Riches argues,
advocates the love of one’s (Roman) enemies (cf. Matt 5:43–48/Luke 6:27–36), thus
critiquing the view of God as a God of judgment and replacing that view with the notion
(on par with Schweitzer) that God is a God of love and mercy. Jesus’ teaching upon love of
enemies is, of course, his comment upon an interpretation current in his day of the “love
your neighbour” passage from Lev 19:18b (cf. Matt 5:43).
But Schweitzer and Riches are hardly alone in their assessment that the rule of love
from Lev 19:18b is the summative principle of Christianity. The ethical exhortation to “love
your neighbour as yourself” is widely recognized as a central maxim of Jesus and the early
Christian movement. This is perhaps especially true of those engaged in discerning a
unifying ethic of the New Testament. Victor Furnish, for instance, remarked thirty-five
years ago in his The Love Command in the New Testament that, “For most of the New
Testament writers the love command is not just one among numerous important statutes of
the law, but the decisive and central commandment.” Similarly, Josef Blank writes, “the
commandment to love provides the fundamental unity in New Testament ethics and … the
centre of Christian ethics.” Both of these are quoted with approval by Richard Burridge in
his 2007 monograph on New Testament ethics, Imitating Jesus.
In spite of (or perhaps because of) this widely held conviction, the meaning of “love” or
“love of one’s neighbour” is often left vague and undefined, or taken for granted altogether.
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Furthermore, and not altogether unjustifiably, “love” has often been understood through
very Pauline, Gentile-mission oriented terms so that love stands over against the law and
“legalism.” As Schrage puts it, “the law of love takes precedence over all other
commandments.” This notion of a love which transcends the precise keeping of the
commandments becomes, therefore, the glue holding the early Christian communities
together in the face of the niggling casuistry of more law-focused Jews, and it was this
principle of love that transcends the law which must therefore be what Jesus’ advocated
during his ministry.
Yet while the view that Paul made use of the love commandment to produce unity
amidst clashes over the law undoubtedly has an element of truth to it, this perspective also
leaves one less than satisfied. For unless one is willing to argue that Paul was anti-law or
anti-Torah, or at least had a laissez-faire approach to the law, one must take Lev 19:18b as
part of—indeed a very important part of—that same law. And if Lev 19:18b is part of the
law and Paul is indeed not anti-law, then what is Paul’s rationale for drawing upon Lev
19:18b qua law? What, if any, exegetical basis had Paul for appealing to Lev 19:18b, or is
he merely proof-texting? The latter view is what has seemed to produce a view of “love” as
a nebulous ethic detached from the law rather than rooted in it. Furthermore, should the
way Paul uses the love commandment be a template for how we understand every instance
of the love maxim in the New Testament—as a kind of universalizing principle? In light of
these questions, I want to suggest that how Lev 19:18b is understood and used in the New
Testament deserves a more nuanced treatment, especially in light of the bold claim
commonly made that “love” is the central ethic of Jesus and the early Christians.
Therefore, drawing upon some of the Jewish exegetical traditions surrounding Lev
19:15–18 concerning the laws for just legal judging, I shall suggest that there are at least
two principal ways in which the “love your neighbour” maxim from Lev 19:18b was
understood and applied by Jesus and his early followers.
In my 2009 doctoral thesis, I argue that more often than not Lev 19:15–18 is understood
by exegetes from roughly 100 B.C.E.–250 C.E. as a unit to be interpreted together and that
these verses are in essence understood by these writers to be about legal judging. However,
this is not to say that later writers did not sometimes lift certain phrases, words, or
principles from Lev 19:15–18 and moralize them to some degree, as the work of James
Kugel has demonstrated is sometimes the case with Lev 19:17. In the current essay, I want
to demonstrate how Lev 19:18b is handled in both ways. That is, I want to argue for
evidence in the New Testament that Lev 19:18b was read in the context of Jewish
exegetical discussions of the laws for just legal judging from Lev 19:15–18a. At the same
time, the New Testament shows evidence that Lev 19:18b was plucked from its narrative
context and more-or-less moralized (although, however, not apart from contemporary
exegetical discussions surrounding Lev 19:18b) in service of a mission to non-Israelites. In
line with the two ways in which Lev 19:18b was handled among contemporary exegetes in
the first century C.E., I shall suggest that Jesus was likely aware of the way in which the
“love your neighbour” maxim was applied to the judiciary and that he himself moralized it
in his advocacy of Israel’s mission to include Gentiles in the kingdom. These two ways in
which Jesus likely understood and used Lev 19:18b can furthermore be detected in the
writings of two leaders of the early church, namely James and Paul (and Luke with him).
Given the limited space of an essay, not all of the traditions in the New Testament which
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cite, allude to, or echo the love commandment can be dealt with, but only some which are
useful for demonstrating the thesis that Jesus and the early leaders of the Church knew of
and made use of two distinct interpretations of Lev 19:18b.
We begin with a look at how Jewish exegetes understood and used Lev 19:18b within
exegetical and juridical discussions. I make no claim to be comprehensive in my survey of
how Lev 19:18b was used in Second Temple times and beyond. Rather, the examples
provided are merely a sounding of the tradition meant to be demonstrative and illustrative.
2. Leviticus 19:18b Within Exegetical and Juridical Discussions

a. Examples
(1) 4QDa 6:14b–7:4a. The Damascus Document, which can be dated to the late first or
early second century B.C.E., contains two parallel passages—4QDa 1:18b–2:1 and 4QDa
6:14b–7:4a—the latter of which cites phrases from Lev 19:15–18, including 19:18b. These
passages discuss the opponents of the sect and their unrighteous deeds, which includes the
violation of the laws for just legal judging in Lev 19:15–18. The Damascus Document’s
concern with justice and divine wrath due to injustice is explained in the first passage:
For they sought easy interpretations, chose illusions, scrutinized loopholes, chose
the handsome neck, acquitted the guilty and sentenced the just, violated the
covenant, broke the precept, banded together against the life of the just man, their
soul abominated all those who walk in perfection, they hunted them down with the
sword and provoked the dispute of the people. And kindled was the wrath of God
against their congregation, laying waste all its great number, for their deeds were
unclean in front of him. (4QDa 1:18b–2:1)
Those who seek “easy interpretations” or “smooth things” and “scrutinized loopholes” are,
in light of the Nahum pesher, probably references to the Pharisees in power in the Temple
at the time that at least this portion of the Damascus Document was originally written. That
they “acquitted the guilty and sentenced the just” and “banded together against the life of
the just” could readily be taken as references to their unjust practices in the courts. The
latter phrase is a quote from Ps 94:21a. This psalm calls upon God to judge the injustice of
those who “slay the widow and the foreigner” and “murder the orphan” (94:6) and who
“condemn the innocent to death” (94:21b). The triad of widow, orphan and foreigner were
especially susceptible in court since they had no covenant-established male legal advocate
to plead their cases. If these phrases from Ps 94 were understood by the sectarians as
references to using the courts as a means for murder, this would give credence to the
reasoning behind why Ps 94:21a is quoted in 4QDa 1:20 within a discussion of those who
“acquitted the guilty and sentenced the just.”
4QDa 6:14b–7:4a is a parallel passage which provides a fuller treatment of the same
theme found in 1:18b–2:1. The covenanters are,
to keep apart from the sons of the pit; to abstain from wicked wealth which defiles,
either by promise or by vow, and from the wealth of the temple and from stealing
from the poor of his people, making widows their spoils and murdering orphans …
for each to love his brother like himself [Lev 19:18b]; to strengthen the hand of the
poor, the needy and the foreigner; Blank for each to seek the peace of his brother
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and not to be unfaithful against his blood relation [Lev 19:16b]; to refrain from
fornication in accordance with the regulation; for each to reprove his brother [Lev
19:17] in accordance with the precepts and not to bear resentment from one day to
the next [Lev 19:18a]; to keep apart from every uncleanness according to the
regulations, without anyone defiling his holy spirit, according to what God kept
apart for them. (4QDa 6:14b–17a; 6:20b–7:4a, emphasis added)
In the Rule of the Community, the Qumran covenanters are often exhorted to abstain
from “the men of injustice,” “the men of deceit,” or “the men of the pit” in order to
maintain justice. Here in the Damascus Document we find a similar notion as the “sons of
the pit” are polemicized against. The sins of the sect’s opponents are made explicit by
means of what the covenanters are themselves to abstain from. Besides abusing the practice
of Qorban, their wicked deeds include pursuing “wicked wealth which defiles … the wealth
of the temple … stealing from the poor of his people, making widows their spoils and
murdering orphans …” Such accusations may point to corruption within the Temple
hierarchy and again could easily be understood to involve judicial corruption. If what is
envisioned here is the judicial system being used to gain “wicked wealth,” this provides a
plausible context for understanding other statements in this section. “Stealing from the
poor,” for instance, could envision a situation in which the wealthy are shown favoritism in
court cases over against those who are financially disenfranchised and defenseless. In fact,
Wacholder points out that the verb ‫גזל‬, “to steal/rob,” occurs nowhere else in the
Damascus Document except here at 6:16. As a parallel, therefore, he offers the occurrence
of ‫ גזל‬in 11QTa 57:20–21, which speaks of an ideal king, who, acting as judge,
shall not accept a bribe to pervert righteous judgment. And he shall not crave a
field, a vineyard, any wealth, a house or any valuable thing in Israel or steal ( ‫)גזל‬
…
Such robbery, then, would be carried out by means of the judiciary. “Making widows their
spoils” at the end of 4QDa 6:16 may likewise refer to the taking advantage of a widow’s
possessions or property via the judiciary. Finally, an allusion to judicial murder may be
intended by the phrase “murdering orphans” in 6:17.
Such a judicial reading of this text is strengthened by many factors. First, the latter half
of this text contains numerous references to the laws for just legal judging from Lev 19:16–
18, as indicated by italics with the verses in brackets. The text contrasts the abuse of
orphans and widows with the proper judging of legal cases, indicating that the abuse of the
vulnerable in court is what is likely in view here. Furthermore, just as Ps 94:21a (probably
understood to refer to unjust judicial practices) was quoted in 4QDa 1:20, so here in 6:17 is
quoted another verse from Ps 94. Psalm 94:6, which speaks of “murdering orphans,” is
quoted. As suggested above, such a phrase could well have been understood by the
sectarians to refer to judicial murder. Psalm 94:6 is here quoted in combination with Isa
10:2, a verse which is concerned with justice if not specifically—with Ps 94—with fairness
in the courts. Lastly, in place of “sons of the pit” in 4QDa 6:11, the parallel fragment 4Q266
interestingly reads, “sons of [injust]ice” (4QDa 3 2:20–21), creating a more poignant epithet
for those involved in unjust judicial practices.
In the midst of our second passage comes a quotation of Lev 19:18b. The
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commandment, “for each to love his brother like himself,” is quoted in contrast to the
wicked behaviour of the sect’s opponents, which, as I have argued, includes judicial
corruption and injustice. Leviticus 19:18b is quoted, furthermore, amidst references to other
phrases and passages from the laws for just judging in Lev 19:15–18—specifically that of
standing against the blood of one’s neighbour (Lev 19:16), reproving a brother (Lev 19:17),
and not bearing a grudge (Lev 19:18a). Therefore, it would seem that the author of the
Damascus Document makes use of the love commandment as part and parcel of the laws
for just legal judging from Lev 19:15–18. Therefore, loving one’s neighbour or “brother” in
this context refers to the doing of justice to such a one in the courts, that is, judging one’s
neighbour justly.
(2) Testament of Gad 4:1–3. In the Testament of Gad, a document which can be dated
between 150 and 100 B.C.E. but which bears heavily the marks of later Christian redaction,
Gad warns his readers against hatred (3:3; 4:1) since hatred, “leads to lawlessness against
the Lord himself” (4:1). This hatred and lawbreaking is expressed in terms of the laws for
just judging from Lev 19:16–18 in T. Gad 4:1–3:
Beware, my children, of those who hate, because it leads to lawlessness against the
Lord himself. Hatred does not want to hear repeated his commands concerning love
of neighbour [Lev 19:18b], and thus it sins against God. For if a brother makes a
false step [Lev 19:17], immediately it wants to spread the tale to everyone [Lev
19:16a], and is eager to have him condemned for it, punished, and executed [Lev
19:16b].
The reference to Lev 19:18b in the phrase “his commands concerning love of neighbour”
here is obvious, and the references to “hatred” and a “brother” reflect Lev 19:17. The
references to “tale-bearing” or “slander” are likely allusions to Lev 19:16a. Furthermore,
reference to having a brother “condemned … punished, and executed” indicates that the
judicial system is certainly in view here. Such tale-bearing is portrayed as endangering a
neighbour’s life so that he is falsely judged by a court and executed. Such behaviour is
probably best understood as a violation of Lev 19:16b.
Similarly to the Damascus Document, we have a case in which the maxim to “love your
neighbour as yourself” from Lev 19:18b is used as part and parcel of the laws for just legal
judging from Lev 19:15–18. Leviticus 19:18b is not used in isolation from either its context
within Lev 19:15–18 nor from its context within a judicial milieu. “Hatred” here is opposite
to love of brother/neighbour, and such hatred violates not only the commandment to love
one’s neighbour but also the laws of just legal judging in Lev 19:15–18a to which Lev
19:18b is attached. Thus, the “hatred” which is opposite to love of neighbour is expressed
in a “lawlessness” that involves the use of the courts for malicious intent. Love of
neighbour, therefore, can be understood in terms of a lawful use of the courts in relation to
one’s neighbour.
(3) Sifra on Leviticus 19:15–18. Sifra, a tannaitic commentary upon Leviticus, can be dated
to the second half of the third century C.E., but it contains core traditions which can be
dated to well before 70 C.E. This document engages in systematic exegesis of Scripture,
incorporating oral traditions concerning the verses at hand found scattered throughout the
Mishnah and Tosefta.
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Too lengthy to be reproduced here, Sifra’s comment upon Lev 19:15–18 (Parashat
Qedoshim Pereq §4) is thoroughly judicial. The comment begins with the commandment in
Lev 19:15 to do no injustice in legal judgment and ends with 19:18b to love one’s
neighbour as oneself. Sifra explains Lev 19:15 as meaning, “this teaches that a judge who
misjudges a case is called ‘unjust,’ ‘hated,’ ‘an abomination,’ ‘beyond all use,’ ‘an
abhorrent.’ ” The discussion that follows regards not showing partiality to the poor when
such a one comes to have his case decided, as well as a discussion about being fair to
litigants in not having one sit while making the other stand, not speaking gently to one and
harshly to the other, and so on. As Kugel notes, Sifra takes Lev 19:15 as paradigmatic for
19:16–18. Therefore, since Lev 19:15 is understood to be about the judiciary, so the
comments on subsequent verses should be taken to be about the courts. Therefore, when
Sifra explains Lev 19:18b by quoting Rabbi Aqiba that, “This is the encompassing principle
of the Torah,” it is not only explaining the love commandment in terms of a universalizing
principle but is doing so within the context of a discussion of the laws for just legal
judging. In Sifra, therefore, Lev 19:18b is a principle applied to the laws of the judiciary.
The examples from the Damascus Document, the Testament of Gad, and Sifra all serve
to illustrate one important way in which Lev 19:18b was understood and applied by Jewish
exegetes. That is, Lev 19:18b was treated as part of the laws for just legal judging from Lev
19:15–18a so that love of neighbour was understood as the doing of justice to one’s
neighbour in a court setting. Such a use of the love commandment raises the question as to
whether Jesus, as a Torah scholar, knew of and/or made use of such an interpretation of Lev
19:18b. My suggestion is that he probably did.
b. Matthew 7:1–5 as Halakhic Midrash upon Leviticus 19:15–18
The main argument of my doctoral dissertation is that Jesus’ teaching in Matt 7:1–5, which
says, “do not judge, so that you might not be judged” (7:1) and “why do you look at the
speck in the eye of your brother, but you do not notice the log in your own eye?” (7:3),
rather than being about nonjudgmentalism, is actually Jesus’ exhortation concerning just
legal judging in the courts. This, so my argument goes, is based upon the fact that Jesus—
much like the texts cited above—is midrashing upon the laws for just legal judging from
Lev 19:15–18. As demonstrated above, during the time of Jesus the verses in Lev 19:15–18
—including Lev 19:18b—were often treated together as a unit and were naturally
interpreted as laws regarding the proper functioning of the judiciary. So Jesus in Matt 7:1–
5. Furthermore, speck/log proverbs similar to the one Jesus uses in Matt 7:3–5 are
employed in later Talmudic texts in their discussions regarding the courts based upon the
laws for just judging from Lev 19.
It is reasonable to assume, therefore, that Jesus understood these verses in Leviticus—if
he is indeed midrashing upon them in Matt 7:1–5—in much the same way as his
contemporary Jewish exegetes: he would have seen them as a unit, he would have
understood them to be about just litigation in court, and he would assume that a
“neighbour” (or “brother” in the case of Matt 7:3–5) meant a fellow Israelite. And while it
is not explicit, it is also reasonable to assume that Jesus, like the contemporary texts cited
above, understood the love maxim of Lev 19:18b as a part of the laws regarding just legal
judging so that “love your neighbour as yourself” used in this context (a context with which
Jesus was undoubtedly familiar) has the notion of doing justice to one’s neighbour with
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regard to the judiciary. This is obviously impossible to prove, although it becomes much
more plausible in view of the way the Epistle of James makes use of Lev 19:18b.
c. James 2:1–13 and its Use of Leviticus 19:15–18
Numerous commentators over the last two centuries have drawn parallels between the
epistle of James and the Sermon on the Mount. And while it has gone relatively unnoticed, I
argue in my discussion that Jas 2:1–13 picks up on the “do not judge” teaching of Jesus
from Matt 7:1–5 and develops it so that the scene depicted in Jas 2:2–3 is two covenant
members—one rich and one poor—coming before the assembly of a synagogue or church
for a legal ruling. This thesis was argued for by R. B. Ward in his 1966 dissertation, and D.
C. Allison has shown that prior to the twentieth century this view was a well-known
interpretive option among many commentators. Furthermore, the illustration James makes
use of in Jas 2:2–3 of a legal judge showing favouritism by allowing one litigant to sit
while the other stands is a common illustration in Jewish midrash upon the laws for just
judging in Lev 19 in which this very situation is debated and discussed in order to get at a
proper application of these laws pertaining to the judiciary.
Furthermore, just as Matt 7:1–5 is based upon Lev 19:15–18, this same legislation is
clearly important within Jas 2:1–13. Not only is Lev 19:18b cited in 2:8, but the entire
discussion of “partiality” in 2:1–13 is predicated upon the law from Lev 19:15—alluded to
in 2:1—which prescribes that judges show no partiality when judging legal cases and which
heads up the unit of Lev 19:15–18. These twin factors have caused commentators on James
to acknowledge that James likely cites Lev 19:18b with the original context of the
surrounding verses of Lev 19 in mind. It seems highly likely that this is what James is
doing, since when James argues in 2:8–9 that showing partiality (Lev 19:15) stands in
diametric opposition to loving one’s neighbour (Lev 19:18b), he likely sees the laws for just
judging from Lev 19:15–18 as a unit and is referring to them as such here. The interaction
in Jas 2:1–13 with the laws for just judging from Lev 19, consequently, strengthens the
connection between Jas 2:1–13 and Jesus’ teaching in Matt 7:1–5.
Therefore, if Jas 2:1–13 can indeed be seen as a development of Jesus’ teaching in Matt
7:1–5—both of which make midrashic use of the laws for just legal judging from Lev
19:15–18 on a par with contemporary exegetes who see these as referring to the judiciary—
then the quotation of Lev 19:18b in Jas 2:8 is given a specific shape. That is, in 2:8, when
James quotes Lev 19:18b amidst his discussion of just judicial procedures within the
synagogues/churches over which he has charge, he makes use of the love commandment
similarly to the other contemporary exegetes noted above who read Lev 19:18b as part and
parcel of the laws for just legal judging from Lev 19:15–18. For James, therefore, “love
your neighbour as yourself” (as quoted in Jas 2:8) has eminently to do with the fair
treatment of one’s “neighbour” amidst legal trials such as illustrated in 2:2–3. And if this is
indeed how James uses Lev 19:18b, and he is inspired by Jesus’ midrash upon Lev 19:15–
18 in Matt 7:1–5, then it is reasonable to see James as either following Jesus or at least not
being radically different from Jesus in his use of Lev 19:18b, especially with regard to
Jesus’ teaching upon the courts in Matt 7:1–5.
To summarize, therefore, Lev 19:18b is used by exegetes contemporary with Jesus and
James as part and parcel of the laws for just legal judging from Lev 19:15–18 so that loving
one’s neighbour is imminently concerned with how to treat one’s Israelite brother or sister
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in a legal, court setting. And if this is how contemporary exegetes handled Lev 19:18b, it is
reasonable to see Jesus as doing the same thing in his discussion of the judiciary, as also
James who is inspired by the teaching of Jesus upon the courts.
3. Jesus’ Interpretation of Leviticus 19:18b and Mission to Samaritans and

Gentiles
While Jewish exegetes naturally included the love command alongside the laws for just
judging from Lev 19:15–18a, as is the case in James (and probably Jesus before him), Lev
19:18b is also used quite apart from such a judicial context by Jesus and Paul in their
advocacy of their mission to Gentiles. Such usages, rather than being based in exegetical
discussions of the laws of the judiciary from Lev 19:15–18a, hinge upon exegetical
peculiarities relating to the “neighbour” of Lev 19:18b.
When Lev 19:18b is quoted in Jewish sources—whether in the context of Lev 19:15–18
or in isolation—the “neighbour” or “brother” mentioned is almost universally understood
as a fellow Israelite covenanter. However, there was debate about how to understand and
apply various aspects of Lev 19:18b, not least as evidenced by Jesus’ statement, “you have
heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you …” in
Matt 5:43–44, as well as the question arising from Lev 19:18b, “and who is my
neighbour?,” which the lawyer puts to Jesus in Luke 10:29.
a. Matthew 5:43–44—Love Your Enemies
Jesus quotes the love commandment in the concluding antithesis of the Sermon on the
Mount: “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour’ and hate your
enemy. But I say to you love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt
5:43–44). The first half of the quotation Jesus cites derives of course from Lev 19:18b
—“you shall love your neighbour.” While some have detected in the latter half of the
quotation—“and hate your enemy”—teaching which derives from Qumran (cf. 1QS 1:3–4,
9–11; 9:21–22), it is probably best seen as reflecting a more widespread, popular saying.
Kugel suggests, and I think quite convincingly, that the origin of the teaching to hate one’s
enemies which Jesus refers to derives from a “restrictive interpretation” of Lev 19:17–18 in
which the commands not to hate one’s brother in one’s heart (Lev 19:17) but to love one’s
neighbour (19:18b) were taken to imply conversely that one was commanded, or at least
permitted, to hate one’s “enemy.” This is, in fact, the explanation of Lev 19:18b given in
Sifra, which, after quoting the maxim to love one’s neighbour, plainly states the implication
that, however, “You may take vengeance or bear a grudge against others.” Apparently, the
injunction in Lev 19:34 to love the “foreigner” (or “proselyte” as the LXX has it) as oneself
did not apply to one’s “enemy.”
Working on the assumption that the “neighbour” spoken of in Lev 19:18b was widely
understood to be a fellow Israelite covenanter, the “enemy” could naturally be understood
as referring to anyone of non-Israelite stock, that is, Gentiles. As Hagner explains, “the
‘neighbour’ meant fellow Jew; the ‘enemy’ meant Gentile.” And if Kugel is correct to see in
Jesus’ reference to hatred of enemy in Matt 5:43 a restrictive interpretation of Lev 19:18b
in which love is due only to one’s Israelite “neighbour” and hatred permitted towards one’s
Gentile enemy, one may surmise that this “hermeneutic of hatred” apparently being used by
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Jesus’ contemporaries to justify Jewish “hatred” of Gentiles is what Jesus is countering
with his injunction to “love your enemies” in Matt 5:44. Such a reading squares well with
5:46–47, in which “tax collectors” and “pagans” are implicitly contrasted with the one
being addressed so that the addressee and his “neighbour” can rightly be considered fellow
Israelites. To be sure, “enemy” can be construed more narrowly than merely “Gentile,” and
this shall become apparent below. But a hermeneutical parameter of the “neighbour” based
upon ethnicity provides a starting point for understanding Matt 5:43–44 as Jesus’
countering hatred of non-Jews.
One must be careful, however, in assessing both Jesus’ highlighting of this narrowly
ethnic interpretation of Lev 19:18b as well as his counter to “love your enemies …” One
may be tempted to imply from Jesus’ words that an “enemy”—that is, a Gentile—should
automatically be considered a “neighbour.” This, I think, is to take a leap not intended by
Jesus’ words. Even if Jesus teaches that his fellow Jewish brothers’ response to a Gentile
enemy should change, this is hardly to imply that the status of an enemy changes; an
“enemy” remains an enemy. To substitute “neighbour” for “enemy” is to blunt the force of
what Jesus is saying when he teaches his followers precisely to love an enemy. Jesus is not
pronouncing all enemies as equal to brothers/neighbours, thus eliciting a love which is now
possible due to a new enlightenment that one can love one’s enemies because all “enemies”
are in actuality brothers. For, if Jesus automatically considers any and all Gentiles
“neighbours,” then he is merely negating any difference between Israelites and Gentiles and
this ethnic flattening out, I think, would be unthinkable for any first-century Jew—even
Jesus. Yet, what Jesus is saying, in my view, is that Israelites are not only to love their
(Israelite) neighbours, but in addition are to love their (Gentile) enemies as well by treating
them as if they were neighbours, loving and praying for them just as one would treat a
brother. But the “enemy” remains an enemy in the sense that he or she remains outside of
God’s covenant people, even if that enemy is to be loved like a brother. The point, then, is
not so much that love is universalized while hatred is ruled out altogether (although these
points may be implied by what Jesus teaches). Rather, the point is that while Gentiles are in
fact enemies, they are to be loved and prayed for just as one’s fellow Jews are to be so
treated. This squares with the theological reasoning given in the next verse in Matthew
(5:45) that if God causes his sun to rise on the good as well as the evil and sends rain upon
the righteous and unrighteous, then so should God’s children imitate his impartial
beneficence and love their enemies as themselves, as neighbours and brothers.
A final tone regarding the missional nature of Matt 5:43–44 needs to be struck. If the
above argument regarding how to understand Matt 5:43–44 has any merit, and the “enemy”
to be loved refers not to enemies in general but more specifically to Gentiles, then this has
implications both for Jesus at the historical level as well as for Matthew’s theme of mission
to the Gentiles.
Palestine during the time of Jesus was a place under Roman subjugation and this is
perhaps especially true of Galilee. Such a situation meant not only a heavy financial burden
upon Jews in Palestine in the form of new and more taxes, but a cultural and religious
pressure to Hellenize. Besides producing political revolts from time to time, such pressure
produced a cultural and religious insulation in the form of Jewish particularism. As John
Nolland aptly comments,
in the mixed-living situation of Palestine in the first century, which had been
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created by developments that were a constant reminder to the Jews of the loss of
their political autonomy, the non-Jewish populace appeared not as “innocent”
resident aliens [cf. Lev 19:34], but for the most part as an expression of the hated
state of foreign domination.
Thus, Jewish restoration eschatology, in which Israel’s election also meant its vocation as a
light to the Gentiles, was viewed largely in terms of revenge: that is, in terms of an eventual
Gentile subservience to Israel. It is within such a context that Jesus’ injunction to “love
your enemies” should be understood.
What, then, is Jesus’ disposition toward such hostile Gentiles as evidenced in Matthew?
While earlier scholarship typified in Jeremias’ Jesus’ Promise to the Nations held that the
historical Jesus engaged in no mission to the Gentiles, Michael Bird has recently argued on
the basis of Jewish restoration eschatology, in which Israel’s election also meant its
vocation as a light to the Gentiles, that the historical Jesus did not merely inspire or initiate
an incipient mission to Gentiles, but that he fully engaged in one himself during his
ministry. And while Bird’s thesis perhaps goes too far, it is clear that Jesus shared a
common Jewish vision for Gentile inclusion in the kingdom. My own view, which is by no
means wide of the general consensus, is that Jesus’ engagement with Gentiles was indeed
constrained during his lifetime. However, what I think is important to emphasize here is
that his teaching to fellow Jews upon the subject was thoroughly engaging. Matthew’s
Gospel bears this out.
While Jesus’ restrictions upon a mission to Gentiles are plainly evident in Matthew
(10:5; 15:24), it is also readily apparent that Matthew’s Jesus shares a deep sense of a future
Gentile mission as part of Israel’s vocation. Matthew traces in ch. 1 Jesus’ lineage from
Abraham—to whom God’s promise was to be a blessing to the nations—and brackets this
in the final chapter of the Gospel by the commissioning of the disciples to go to “all
nations” (1:2; 28:19). This suggests that Jesus’ entire mission, as particularly focused upon
the nation of Israel as it is, ultimately has the inclusion of other (Gentile) nations as its goal.
The Sermon on the Mount is charged with this vision of Israel’s vocation ultimately leading
to Gentile inclusion. The injunctions that Israel be “salt” and “light” (5:13–16) clearly
recall from Isaiah its vocation to be a light to the Gentiles (Isa 42:6; 49:6; 51:4). Likewise,
the “city on a hill,” which is placed between two statements about Israel shining like a light
(5:14–15), is likely an allusion to Jerusalem, a hint which finds more overt expression in
5:35 when Jesus speaks of swearing by Jerusalem (cf. 21:16–22). Indeed, the notion of
Jerusalem (or “Zion”) as a light toward which the nations shall eventually be drawn is not
unfamiliar to Isaiah’s restoration eschatology (cf. Isa 2:2–5; 60:1–22). The parallel
exhortation attached to the commands to be salt and light spells out quite clearly that
Israel’s vocation is to point the nations to God: “let your light shine before people so that
they may see your good works and give glory to your father in heaven” (5:16). The
encounters of Jesus with Gentiles in Matthew’s Gospel (8:5–13; 15:21–28; 27:54),
therefore, serve not so much to depict him as engaged in a mission to the Gentiles so much
as they serve as relatively extraordinary examples which validate Jesus’ teaching that when
Israel acts as Israel should—that is, as salt and light—that the Gentiles are in fact drawn in
(even if the Gentiles are in general not fully ready to become a part of Israel during Jesus’
lifetime, cf. 8:28–34). For, if Jesus embodies Israel in his being brought from Egypt (2:13–
18) and in his being tempted for forty days and forty nights (4:1–11), then he can also be
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seen to embody Israel in its role as healer of the nations (8:5–13; 15:21–28; cf. Ezek 47:1–
12; Rev 22:1–5).
Therefore, when readers come to Jesus’ injunction to “love your enemies,” the
implication, in my view, is twofold. First, Jesus’ words to love a Gentile “enemy” can be
understood in the context of Roman subjugation, and therefore it makes good sense that the
“enemy” to whom love is being advocated, in both the historical situation of Jesus as well
as the later situation in which Matthew writes, can be understood as Gentile Romans. This
is obviously radically opposed to any form of ethnic particularism on the part of Jesus’
fellow Jews, which would advocate the hatred and (future) vengeful subjugation of Rome
by God/Israel. But such a reading of Jesus’ injunction to love one’s Gentile Roman enemies
also strikes a chord dissonant with the dominant power scheme of Rome so that Jesus’
kingdom and role as “son of God” (cf. 27:54) comes off as an altogether alternative mode
of power to that of Rome too. Left only with an injunction to love rather than hate in the
face of Roman domination, however, would indeed sound utterly utopian to nearly any
variety of Jew in the first century. A second implication, therefore, which is inextricably
linked to the first, is that the exhortation to love one’s Gentile Roman enemies is also a
strikingly missional statement.
Both Philo and Josephus are helpful here, since both advocate the treating of an enemy
with kindness, which has the missional potential for winning over an enemy. Josephus
demonstrates to his Roman readers that Moses encouraged non-Israelites to become a part
of Israel. This was to be fostered by the general kindnesses to be shown to strangers, such
as providing food and water, giving directions to travellers, and burying the dead, as well as
Moses’ teaching that Israel’s military enemies were to be treated with uncommon restraint
so that no burning and pillaging of their land was permitted, nor the cutting down of their
fruit trees, nor should prisoners of war be injured nor their women be abused, nor even their
animals normally used for labor be killed (C. Ap. 2.209–14). Philo is even more missional
when he gives two scenarios—one in which the pack animal of one’s enemy falls down
under the weight of the burden, and the similar case in which an enemy’s animal wanders
away from its owner—and says to his Hellenistic readers that Moses advocates the helping
of one’s enemy by the lightening of the load or the returning of the wandering animal with
the result that the enmity between the Israelite and his enemy will be dissolved and the
enemy be prepared to make peace and be reconciled to the Israelite (Virt. 116–18). Such
examples find resonance with Jesus’ teaching to love one’s enemies and can likewise be
considered concrete examples of Israel living out its vocation to be a light to the Gentiles.
Such also seems to be the missional tone of Matthew’s Jesus in 5:43–44. If an “enemy”
was considered to be a Roman Gentile, and Jesus teaches that Jews should love such
enemies, one may surmise that Jesus—like Philo, Josephus, and probably other Jews—is
advocating the way in which his Jewish countrymen may make peace with these enemies.
This squares well with the injunction, just prior to Jesus’ exhortation to love one’s enemies,
to carry a Roman soldier’s load two miles when forced to go one (5:41). As Roman soldiers
were allowed by law to conscript civilians into carry their pack one Roman mile, Jesus
advocates the carrying of the pack two miles—the implication being that such behaviour is
one such example of loving one’s enemy and being “light” to a Gentile Roman soldier
which as such has the potential of winning over one’s Gentile enemy. Schottroff can
therefore rightly comment that, “the command to love the enemy is an appeal to take up a
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missionary attitude toward one’s persecutors.” Again, she is apt to recall Paul’s instruction,
“do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (Rom 12:21), so that “the
command to love the enemy is thoroughly aggressive though not in a destructive sense.”
Such loving of one’s enemies is no mere passive resistance, but an active overcoming of the
enmity of one’s enemy by an eagerness to show goodness and love toward that enemy, with
the hope and prayer (5:44, “love … and pray for …”) that such acting as salt and light may
aid one’s enemy in coming to know the loving character of Israel’s God. The maxim to love
one’s enemies in 5:44 is an exhortation directed toward the fellow Jew with the expectation
that his behaviour should exceed in virtue that of the “tax collector” and “pagan” (5:46–47)
precisely because of Israel’s vocation to be a light to the Gentiles evoked earlier in the same
chapter at 5:13–16. If Israel is no more righteous than Gentiles, how can it light the way for
the Gentiles to turn to Israel’s God?
One finds similar dynamics regarding the “neighbour” of Lev 19:18b in Luke’s
presentation of Jesus’ telling of the Good Samaritan—a story which has its own missional
thrust.
b. Luke 10:25–37—The Parable of the Good Samaritan
Much has been written on the Parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10:25–37, so much so
that one can scarcely scratch the surface in such a limited treatment as is being given here.
Indeed, the parable deserves extended discussion. It is hoped, however, that the approach
being taken here regarding how halakhic discussions surrounding Lev 19:18b bears upon
the parable will add a unique dimension to the understanding of the parable which has
heretofore not been sufficiently considered.
One approach to this parable, typified by Crossan, has been a redaction-critical analysis
of 10:25–37 in which the preface of 10:25–29 and the concluding remarks of 10:36–37 are
seen as originally separate from the parable proper in 10:30–35. This is often based upon
the fact that the double love command in Luke 10:25–28 closely parallels the occurrence of
the double love command in Mark 12:28–34/Matt 22:34–40, both of which contain no
Samaritan parable. The result of such redactional hypotheses being allowed to drive the
interpretation of the parable is that the parable in 10:30–35 is understood altogether apart
from the lawyer’s question, which is based upon Lev 19:18b, as to who one should consider
a “neighbour” (10:29). Not a few others, however, have seen the love commandment of Lev
19:18b and the lawyer’s question based on this commandment as essential for
understanding the parable.
In my view the first approach cannot be justified. Just because the double love
commandment occurs elsewhere in the Gospels, it does not necessarily follow that Luke
created this parable and attached it to the double love command. First, the pairing of the
love of God (Deut 6:4) and love of neighbour (Lev 19:18b) was not unique to Jesus.
Indeed, that Luke depicts the lawyer citing the double love command, rather than Jesus, as
is the case in Matthew and Mark, need not be regarded as historically dubious. The lawyer
could have just as easily cited the double love command as could have Jesus or any other
Jewish teacher of the time. Second, the love commands (or the double love command) are
used in a variety of contexts to make slightly different points much in the same way that a
proverb or a parable is used. Therefore, it need not be assumed that Jesus used the double
love command in only one way (typified in Mark 12:28–34/Matt 22:34–40) and that any
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variant from this use, such as is found in Luke 10:25–37, must necessarily be attributed to
the evangelist’s creativity with the tradition. Furthermore, the Samaritan parable itself is
best understood with reference to answering the lawyer’s question about the “neighbour,” a
question arising from Lev 19:18b. In my view, therefore, the Samaritan Parable (10:30–35)
cannot be properly interpreted apart from the narrative context surrounding it (10:25–29,
36–37).
The parable can be considered to go back to the historical Jesus. Although it is a
parable, and therefore one would be hard pressed to seek a specific historical incident from
which the parable arose, it can be considered a typical rabbinic-style parable. Furthermore,
the halakhic issues detected in the parable, such as that of corpse impurity or the obligation
to bury the dead, were often attached to discussions of Lev 19:18. Philo, for instance,
attaches to the Golden Rule—a common substitute for Lev 19:18b—the obligation to bury
the dead. Indeed, similar parables concerning one who falls into the hands of robbers may
have often been attached to the legislation of Lev 19:15–18 concerning one’s “neighbour.”
In Sifra upon Lev 19:15–18 (Parashat Qedoshim Pereq §4), for instance, in a comment
upon Lev 19:16, mention is made of one who falls into the hands of robbers:
Scripture says, “And you shall not stand forth against the life of your neighbour”
[Lev 19:16].
And how do we know that if one sees someone drowning in the river, or muggers
coming to attack him, or a wild beast coming to attack him, one is liable to save the
other [even at the risk of one’s own life]?
Scripture says, “and you shall not stand forth against the life of your neighbour”
[Lev 19:16].
Therefore, it is wholly reasonable that the parable of the Good Samaritan be originally
attached to a halakhic question arising from Lev 19:18b regarding the “neighbour” in this
verse, and that the historical Jesus contributed to this scholarly debate so that the entirety of
Luke 10:25–37 be seen as arising from the historical Jesus.
A variety of issues have been raised by those who have commented upon the parable.
Scholars muse over everything from an incipient anti-clericalism in the parable, to what
perspective the parable invites readers to adopt (usually the victim), and even to what the
victim might have been wearing. Indeed, there are a number of socio-political and religious
issues which shed light on the parable. It is helpful, for instance, to know that many priests
likely resided in Jericho. The hostile nature of the relationship between Jews and Gentiles is
surely instructive. To know that Jews and Samaritans engaged in vengeful behaviour
against each other—Samaritans desecrating the Temple in Jerusalem by scattering bones in
the Temple court one night during Passover, or Samaritans slaying a number of Galileans
on their way to Jerusalem for a festival and Jews sacking Samaritan villages in response—
is helpful for understanding the animosity between the two groups. Indeed, one could
surmise that if Jesus had been a Samaritan speaking this parable to Samaritans, he would
have reversed the roles so that it was a Samaritan who was left half-dead on the side of the
road with the hero of the story a good “Jewish man,” since a Jewish man was just as
unlikely to help a Samaritan as a Samaritan help a Jew.
Likewise, there are some key halakhic issues which shed light on the dynamics of the
parable. Richard Bauckham has raised one such important issue, arguing that the reason the
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priest passed by without helping was his concern to keep the law regarding corpse impurity
and thus remain clean. Bauckham’s argument is that the commandment to love one’s
neighbour supersedes any laws regarding attracting impurity from a corpse. But B. B. Scott
raised this issue nearly a decade before Bauckham and concluded that, “in the end there is
no final resolution for the priest and Levite’s motivation, because the parable offers no
clues.” Likewise, Klyne Snodgrass comments a decade after Bauckham that,
The parable pays no attention to the motives of the priest and the Levite in passing
by, whether fear for their own safety or fear of defilement. As interesting as
Bauckham’s proposal is, it does not satisfactorily explain the dynamics of the
parable; most notably, it virtually ignores the Levite. More is going on than corpse
defilement and halakhic debate.
Bauckham, therefore, has raised an important issue which sheds light on the parable, but
one which seems secondary to the main thrust of the parable.
What more can be said, therefore, that does get at the main thrust of the parable? I want
to suggest another halakhic issue which, I shall argue, lies at the heart of both the lawyer’s
question as well as Jesus’ parabolic response. It has already been pointed out above that the
“neighbour” in Lev 19:18b was almost universally understood to be a fellow Israelite
covenanter. It was also noted that Jesus’ teaching to love one’s enemies in Matt 5:43–44
was likely given to countermand a popular interpretation of Lev 19:18b which permitted
the hating of others who were not Jewish neighbours/brothers. Similarly, at the heart of the
lawyer’s question regarding who is to be considered a “neighbour” is, in my view, the issue
of ethnicity. Similar suggestions regarding a restrictive interpretation of the “neighbour”
from Lev 19:18b to shed light upon the parable have been made in the past, but reading the
lawyer’s question in terms of an ethnically restrictive interpretation of “neighbour” in Lev
19:18b (on par with the interpretation of it Jesus’ battles in Matt 5:43–44 discussed above)
may shed light on the main thrust of the text in ways which have not been previously
considered. I suggest both Luke’s Jesus and Luke’s lawyer are aware of the halakhic
debates concerning how to interpret the “neighbour” of Lev 19:18b and that the Samaritan
parable deals precisely with one such halakhic issue.
Much like those Jesus corrects in Matt 5:43–44 for teaching others to hate non-Israelites
based upon a restrictive view of “neighbour,” so the lawyer’s question reflects his search
for the ethnic limitations involved in keeping this command to love one’s neighbour.
Perhaps the issue arose due to the presence of the command in Lev 19:34 (which is nearly
identical to Lev 19:18b) to love the foreigner as oneself? For determining the exact identity
of the “foreigner” (or “proselyte” as the LXX has it) leaves enough wiggle room for later
halakhic debate as to who, even among non-Israelites, could be constituted a “neighbour”
in Lev 19:18b whom the Israelite was bound to love. The lawyer’s question could therefore
be restated to something like, “Who is my neighbour—what are the ethnic boundaries—to
whom I am bound by the law to love, and who is bound by the law to love me?” Only an
ethnic Israelite? Those of mixed ethnicity like Samaritans? Are non-Israelite proselytes also
“neighbours”? As the lawyer puts it to Jesus, “Who is my neighbour?”
Many note the three-tiered expectation of priest, Levite, lay-Israelite and how Jesus’
unexpected insertion of a Samaritan in place of the lay-Israelite would have produced quite
a bit of shock on the part of his hearers. At the same time, scholars debate whether or not
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the parable has an anti-clerical tone due to the lack of aid on the part of the priest and
Levite. What is perhaps going on, I suggest, is that while the three-tiered expectation would
indeed entice a hearer to expect a “lay-Israelite” as the third character and thus the hero,
consequently producing an anti-clerical parable, Jesus instead inserts a Samaritan, thus in
effect shifting the blame from clerics (had a lay-Israelite been the third character) to
Israelites in general (since the third character is a Samaritan, rather than an Israelite). But
this raises the issue of why Jesus chooses a Samaritan as a fulfiller of the highest law and
not a Gentile. After all, there are indications that Gentiles were considered less favourably
even than Samaritans. The issue upon which Jesus’ parable hinges, I suggest, is precisely
whether an ethnic Samaritan lay within the purview of one’s “neighbour” in Lev 19:18b.
The Mishnah evidences an ambiguity regarding a Samaritan’s status as a member of the
congregation of Israel, often categorizing them alongside Gentiles. On the other hand, the
Talmud reports that Akiba regarded Samaritans as genuine proselytes and that Simeon ben
Gamaliel viewed them as equivalent to an Israelite. In other words, due to the Samaritan’s
mixed Israelite ethnicity, the Samaritan is a prime candidate in this halakhic debate over
who would be considered a fellow “neighbour,” that is, a fellow covenantal member to
whom love is due. Indeed, the parable works best on the assumption that the Samaritan’s
ethnic identity and thus his status as an Israelite neighbour is in doubt. Although this debate
is clearly evidenced in later rabbinic writings with regard to a Samaritan’s status, the nature
of the lawyer’s question and Jesus’ response indicates that this debate was, as Schrage
comments, “clearly in full swing at the time of Jesus.”
Therefore, by inserting a Samaritan in place of the expected lay-Israelite, Jesus
intentionally creates ambiguity. It is precisely at this point in the parable that one does not
know whether the Samaritan is bound by the law to stop and help or not, because his status
as a neighbour/brother to the half-dead man is precisely in question. Since a Samaritan’s
status as a fully ethnic Jew was contested, and therefore his status as an ethnic “neighbour”
was in doubt, the only thing left to indicate whether the Samaritan is indeed a “neighbour”
or not is his actions. This is reinforced by the fact that Israel’s chief religious
representatives and keepers of the law—priests and Levites—have neglected to act as
neighbours to their half-dead Jewish brother (whether from motives of purity or otherwise).
Thus Jesus in effect uses the halakhically ambiguous ethnic status of a Samaritan to shift
the focus away from an ethnically restrictive interpretation of the “neighbour” in Lev
19:18b, and shifts it towards an interpretation of the “neighbour” in Lev 19:18b which is
oriented to a limitless application of the essence of the law. Interpreting the law in terms of
such supererogatory (i.e. optional, yet saintly), rather than obligatory, behaviour is not
uncommon in halakhic interpretations of the law. Such interpretations of the law as having
limitless obligations are not foreign either to Matthew’s Jesus or to Paul (cf. Matt 5:17–20;
2 Cor 3:6b–18). In fact, when Jesus, James, and Paul use Lev 19:18b to say that love
“fulfills” or “perfects” the law, this may in part be what they mean—that love goes above
and beyond any minimum obligations one might discern in the law (Matt 5:17–20, 43–48;
19:16–22; 22:34–40/Mark 12:28–34/Luke 10:25–37; Jas 2:8; Gal 5:14; Rom 13:8–10).
Therefore, while the lawyer’s approach seeks to define the limits of the law (“and who is
my neighbour,” 10:29), Jesus’ approach is praxis-oriented (“do this and you will live,”
10:28). The Samaritan thus embodies Jesus’ approach to the law in that the Samaritan
fulfils the law by doing the law (cf. Matt 7:24–27/Luke 6:46–49). This is in contrast to the
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lawyer who seeks to “justify himself” (10:29) by asking a question which seeks to limit his
actions to a minimum obligated standard.
Two observations should be made here regarding how to interpret Jesus’ words. First,
just as Jesus does not universalize who one’s neighbour is in his injunction to love one’s
enemy as a neighbour in Matt 5:43–44 (a Gentile “enemy” remains a Gentile enemy), so
neither does he universalize the “neighbour” of Lev 19:18b by means of the Samaritan
parable. For if one understands Jesus as teaching that the Samaritan is to be considered a
“neighbour” whatever status his ethnicity my oblige, this is to blunt the rhetorical force, as
well as the meaning, of the parable. For there would be nothing extraordinary about a
Samaritan rendering aid to a Jew if the Samaritan was considered a fellow
neighbour/brother. He would merely be keeping the law of Lev 19:18b to love his
neighbour as himself. Indeed, however, the parable works best on the premise of the
dubious nature of the main character’s ethnicity—he is a Samaritan. Here again, therefore,
ethnic boundaries are not obliterated by Jesus.
The second, and most interesting, observation is that while Jesus provides an answer to
the scholar’s query, he never definitively answers the halakhic debate regarding who a
“neighbour” is. He does not answer the legal, technical debate as to which ethnicities—or
whether an ethnic Samaritan—should be considered a “neighbour.” Rather than solve this
issue with a definitive answer regarding the minutiae of the law, Jesus points to a higher
principle to settle this matter. In effect, Jesus says, “If a Samaritan, who may or may not be
bound by the law to love an Israelite, loves an Israelite anyway, then he acts like an Israelite
neighbour whom the Israelite is to love in return—whatever his ethnicity.” So, while Luke’s
Jesus does not obliterate ethnicity, he does transcend the ethnic-centered halakhic
discussions surrounding Lev 19:18b, replacing it with a hermeneutic of active love. The
implication for the lawyer’s ethnically centered question is this: If a Samaritan (despite the
Samaritan/Jewish hostility) can act like a neighbour to a Jew while a Jewish priest and
Levite cannot, then a Jew (such as the lawyer and the listeners) can act like a neighbour to a
Samaritan. Thus, as Craig Blomberg comments, Jesus’ injunction to “go and do likewise” in
10:37 “substitutes the command to model the Samaritan’s neighbourliness for a reply to the
lawyer’s question about who his neighbour was.” This understanding of the parable stands
in line with what was stated earlier regarding Jesus’ vision of a mission to the Gentiles—
namely, that while he did not per se engage in a mission to non-Jews during his own
ministry, he did share a deeply held vision for the eventual inclusion of non-Jews into the
Kingdom.
We now turn to some missiological implications. This parable, fully engaged as it is
with Lev 19:18b and featuring a character whose Jewish ethnicity is in doubt, epitomizes
Jesus’ interpretation of Lev 19:18b as being applicable to other, non-Jewish ethnicities
much like Jesus’ interpretation of Lev 19:18b in Matt 5:43–44. In Matt 5:43–44, love is to
be shown even to a Gentile “enemy.” In Luke 10:25–37, the love to be shown, according to
Jesus’ interpretation of Lev 19:18b, is not limited to the Jewish people but can be applied
from any ethnicity (the Samaritan, for example) to any ethnicity (Samaritan to Jew and,
thus, Jew to Samaritan). How did Luke make use of this story, rooted as it is in the Jewish
Torah, for mission?
Luke has a keen interest in Samaritans throughout Luke-Acts and his overall outlook
towards this ethnic group is positive (besides Luke 10:30–35; cf. 17:16; Acts 8:14, 25). He
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does, however, record an episode in which Samaritans do not welcome Jesus (Luke 9:52–
56). Yet, despite their rejection of him, Jesus does not permit his disciples to call down fire
from heaven to destroy them (9:54–55). That this Samaritan rejection is followed by
statements of Jesus on the costliness of following him (9:57–62), and then by the mission
of the seventy-two (10:1–24), likely indicates Luke’s interest in demonstrating Jesus’
concern for the eventual inclusion of Samaritans in the Kingdom. Jesus’ protection of
Samaritans in 9:52–56, therefore, prepares the reader for the lawyer’s question and the
example of a Samaritan in the parable who loves a Jew like a brother (10:25–37). And
while, “Samaritan and Gentile Christians might hear [the Samaritan parable] as one of
praise for their conversion …,” in my view I think the parable provides an impetus for
mission in a more nuanced way since, after all, the parable is not about the Good
Samaritan’s conversion. The way in which I think the parable does provide an impetus for a
mission to the Samaritans and/or Gentiles is that with this parable Jesus—much as he does
in Matt 5:43–44—teaches against any ethical elitism on the part of his Jewish brothers. As
Klyne Snodgrass points out, this parable “confronts the sin of racism.” Therefore, if Jesus
was concerned to include Samaritans, too, in the Kingdom (9:52–10:24), and if Jesus could
depict a Samaritan acting like a Jewish neighbour by showing compassion upon a Jewish
brother while the Jew’s own clerics would not (10:25–37), then such teaching from Jesus
would combat the racism and hatred for Samaritans evidenced even among Jesus’ own
disciples (9:54). Furthermore, the parable of the Good Samaritan, following on the heels of
the mission of the seventy-two (symbolizing by this number the evangelization of all
nations) in 10:1–24, according to Ford, “introduces the theology of the mission to the
Gentiles.” (Perhaps, it is more precise to say that the parable introduces a theology of
mission to Samaria and Samaritans.) For this incipient mission to Samaria hinted at in
9:51–10:37 finds full expression in Acts when Samaria becomes one of the ethnic groups to
be reached (1:8) and one which responds positively (8:14, 25). This mission to Samaritans,
therefore, can be seen to find support in the ministry of Jesus, who, although rejected by
Samaritans (9:51–56), not only occasionally found favor among them (17:16) but also held
a Samaritan up as an example of one who kept the highest law to love one’s neighbour
(10:25–37).
There is very good reason, therefore, to read the Samaritan parable with Jesus’
injunction to love one’s enemies in mind, as in fact some already do. For if Jesus in Matt
5:43–44 teaches his Jewish brothers (based upon Lev 19:18b) to love their Gentile enemies
as they would a Jewish brother, it makes good sense that in Luke 10:25–37 Jesus would
give the example of the Samaritan (a potential enemy) who becomes a neighbour, thus
fulfilling Lev 19:18b, despite his questionable ethnicity. In both Matt 5:43–44 and Luke
10:25–37, Jesus makes use of Lev 19:18b in ways which provide an impetus for later
mission to Samaritans and Gentiles, even if Jesus’ own interaction with these non-Jewish
groups was at times restrained and/or strained. One thing, however, seems clear: Jesus
countered any ethnically restrictive interpretations of Lev 19:18b in powerful ways,
indicating both his vision of an eventual inclusion of these ethnic groups into God’s
Kingdom. And if this is how Jesus made use of Lev 19:18b, it would seem natural if one
found Paul making similar use of the love command.
4. Paul’s Use of Leviticus 19:18b via the Jesus Tradition

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a. Galatians 5:14
In Gal 5:14 Paul quotes Lev 19:18b to the newly converted Gentile Galatians. Since Lev
19:18b is often understood as a summary of the entire Torah, interpreters are quick to note a
tension here: If the Gentile Christians of Galatia are “free” (5:1, 13) and no longer burdened
by “a yoke of slavery” (5:1; cf. 4:3, 9–11)—which includes freedom from the Jewish Torah
being imposed upon them—why would Paul insist that the Galatians follow what is thought
to be a summary of the entire Torah?
Hans Hübner has drawn a distinction between “the whole law” (ὃλον τὸν νόμον) of
Gal 5:3—understood as the quantitative measurement of the sum-total of all the precepts of
the Torah—and “all the law” (ὁ πᾶς νόμος) of Gal 5:14—the spirit and intention of the
totality of the law—so that the latter, followed as it is by the love commandment, explains
Paul’s use of Lev 19:18b as all-encompassing in a rather different manner than the former.
The former principle can be seen in Paul’s quotation of Deut 27:26 in Gal 3:10, “cursed is
everyone who does not continue to do all (πᾶσιν) these things written in the book of the
law (τοῦ νόμου).” The latter (Lev 19:18b as a comprehensive principle of the law) stands
among a well known phenomenon among contemporaries of Jesus and Paul to summarize
the law in such a way. John Barclay, however, has found Hübner’s argument unconvincing:
Since νόμος has meant “the Mosaic Law” all the way up till this point in
Galatians and continues to bear this reference four verses later in 5:18, and since
5:14 itself contains a quotation from the Mosaic law (Lev 19:18 is one of the
λόγοι contains in the νόμος), it is extremely unlikely that ὁ πᾶς νόμος can
mean anything other than the whole Mosaic law. Moreover the parallel in Rom.
13:8–10 is an unmistakable reference to Mosaic law and the subtle distinction
Hübner maintains between that passage and Gal 5:14 does not carry conviction.
The key to solving this riddle, of course, lay not in Hübner’s subtle distinction between
ὃλος ὁ νόμος and ὁ πᾶς νόμος, but in the difference in the verbs and the contexts in
which they are used. In 5:3, Paul says that a person who undertakes circumcision is
obligated “to do/obey” (ποιῆσαι) the whole law, whereas in 5:14 Paul writes that all of the
law “has been fulfilled” (πεπλήρωται) in the love command of Lev 19:18b. This latter
notion of fulfilment in 5:14 does not have the idea of the keeping of the entire Mosaic law
as does the verb ποιῆσαι in 3:10 (cf. 3:12) and 5:3. Rather, as Barclay argues,
πληρῶσαι has the notion of “the eschatological fullness of time in the coming of Christ.”
In comparison with Jewish texts, this word is used frequently throughout the New
Testament and often carries strong connotations of the eschatological consummation of
God’s will and plan. Paul’s statement, therefore, that circumcision obligates a person “to
do/obey” (ποιῆσαι) the whole law in 5:3 is very different from his saying in 5:14 that all
of the law “has been fulfilled” (πεπλήρωται) in the one word, to “love your neighbour as
yourself.”
There is a striking occurrence of the latter verb in Matt 5:17 in which Jesus declares that
he has come to “fulfil” (πληρῶσαι) the law—and this in contrast to abolishing or
destroying it. Moule thinks this instance carries with it the idea that Jesus simultaneously
fulfils both the Torah’s yet-to-be-achieved ideal as well as the Prophets’ hope of a time
when the Torah would be fulfilled. This statement of the Matthean Jesus comes directly
before the antitheses in which Jesus gives a number of authoritative interpretations of the
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Mosaic law (Matt 5:21–48)—including of course the dictum to love one’s enemies as an
interpretation of Lev 19:18b (5:43–44). This raises the question as to whether Paul is aware
of the Jesus tradition here in which Jesus quotes Lev 19:18b and whether Paul has been
influenced by Jesus’ particular interpretations of the love commandment. If so, a more
important question arises: What is the precise nature of this fulfilment of the law which Lev
19:18b “fulfils” in light of Jesus’ coming and teaching to which Paul refers?
Based upon the way in which Paul introduces Lev 19:18b in Gal 5:14 and Rom 13:8, it
is highly probable that both the Galatians and Romans were already familiar with Lev
19:18b as a Scripture of central importance in the teaching of Jesus. Indeed, in view of
Paul’s general lack of appeal to commandments as the ultimate authority for his ethics,
Michael Thompson can write that “his choice to use a commandment in Rom 13:9 (and Gal
5:14) is unusual, and the commandment he chooses just happens to be that which Christ
elevated to primary importance.” Many, furthermore, see the quotation of Lev 19:18b in
Gal 5:14 and Rom 13:9 as having an origin in the Jesus tradition. There is good evidence
suggesting that Paul in fact did know this Jesus tradition and that he is referring to it in Gal
5:14. Paul had warned his readers in 5:3 that he who undertakes circumcision is “a debtor”
(ὀφειλέτης) to do “the whole law” (ὃλον τὸν νόμον). In 5:13–14, Paul uses an image
not unrelated to debt—that of slavery—when he writes, “be a slave to one another through
love” (5:13), and then states that “all the law” (ὁ … πᾶς νόμος) is fulfilled in one
commandment, “you shall love your neighbour as yourself” (5:14). Similarly, in the parallel
passage in Rom 13:8, Paul uses the imagery of debt to speak of love: “owe nothing to
anyone except the debt to love one another, for the one loving the other has fulfilled the
law.” Paul may have derived such a linking of the imagery of debt/slavery with love of
neighbour from Jesus’ teaching. In Matt 5:21–26 debt and imprisonment is linked with the
opposite of love—hate. Similarly, throughout Luke 6:27–36 Luke’s Jesus emphasizes love
as a debt to all, especially by the direct juxtaposition of lending without expecting
repayment with the teaching upon love of enemies in 6:34–35. Matthew’s version of the
Lord’s Prayer links forgiveness with debts (Matt 1:10). Similarly, the parable of the
unmerciful servant in Matt 18:21–35 connects debt/slavery with the showing of mercy. A
similar parable of Jesus in Luke 7:41–42 directly connects the forgiveness of debts with
love. The Johannine tradition is similar (1 John 3:16; 4:11). Furthermore, a connection is
often made between the love commandment quoted in Gal 5:14 and the “law of Christ”
referred to in 6:2. As Thompson comments, “It is tempting to conclude that the νόμον
Χριστοῦ is none other than Lev 19:18, cited shortly before in 5:14. If that is correct, we
have strong evidence that Paul knew the command not merely as an Old Testament dictum,
but as a teaching given great significance by Jesus.” Therefore, it is likely not only that Paul
knew Lev 19:18b to be a saying of Jesus, but that Paul quoted it precisely because the early
churches such as those in Galatia and Rome knew it to be central to Jesus’ teaching as well.
If Paul was familiar with the Jesus tradition in which Jesus made use of Lev 19:18b,
then it stands to reason that Paul was also familiar with the particular way or ways in which
Jesus interpreted Lev 19:18b. It has been suggested above that Jesus used Lev 19:18b in
Matt 5:43–44 and Luke 10:25–37 to combat and oppose ethnically restrictive
interpretations of the love command. At the same time, Jesus’ use of the love command
suggests that he shared a vision for the eventual inclusion of Gentiles (and Samaritans) into
God’s Kingdom and that his use of Lev 19:18b provided an impetus for later Gentile and
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Samaritan mission. If, as has been suggested above, Paul has been influenced by the Jesus
tradition, then one might further suggest that in Gal 5:14 Paul is making use of Lev 19:18b
in a way which is similar to or inspired by the way Jesus used it. Indeed, if Jesus used the
love command in such a way as to combat ethnic particularism on the part of his Jewish
countrymen and to foster an openness to the inclusion of non-Jews into God’s Kingdom, I
suggest that such a use by Jesus would provide Paul—engaged as he is in a mission to
Gentiles and embattled as he is against those who wish to circumcise Paul’s flocks—with a
powerful principle from the Torah (interpreted, now, by Jesus) for the inclusion of Gentiles
into God’s Kingdom. Some explanation is needed.
Paul’s argument in Gal 5 regards the freedom which believers have through Christ.
They have been liberated by Christ and are now as free from the “yoke” of the law and
circumcision being imposed upon them (5:1–6) as they are from the idolatrous “basic
principles” of the world (4:8–9)—both of which Paul exhorts them not to become enslaved
to “again” (4:9; 5:1). But rather than allowing such freedom to lead to indulgence in the
“flesh,” Paul counsels them to “become a slave to one another through love” (5:13). Then
in 5:14, Paul quotes Lev 19:18b, with the explanation that “the entire law is fulfilled in one
word: love your neighbour as yourself.”
This quotation of Lev 19:18b is not used to combat circumcision and the law per se so
much as it is applied to the conflict which has arisen because of Paul’s opponents who are
advocating circumcision. In Paul’s argument leading up to the quotation of the love
principle, we observe that inter-ecclesial strife is the main issue at hand. The influence of
Paul’s opponents is like evil yeast which has been worked in among the Galatian dough
(5:9), stirring up trouble among the Galatian Christians (5:10). Indeed, Paul’s opponents are
called “agitators” (5:12). In the immediate context the opposite of “love your neighbour” is
factions and infighting. For, directly after quoting the maxim to love one’s neighbour, Paul
writes, “If you continue biting and devouring one another, watch out lest you be consumed
by one another” (5:15). Indeed, as F. F. Bruce writes, “The particular ‘work of the flesh’ to
which the Galatians were chiefly prone at this time seems to have been quarrelsomeness (v
15).” In light of Paul’s preceding argument in which he combats the viewpoint of those who
would wish to impose circumcision (5:1–12), it would seem relatively straightforward that
“love your neighbour” stands in opposition to such infighting.
Yet, the central issue causing such conflict, however, is one which is ethnically based.
For while the Galatians are converted Gentiles, those among the Galatians advocating
circumcision are Jewish and the imposition of circumcision is not only a religious symbol
but an ethnic one too. Therefore, when Paul quotes the love command in 5:14, I suggest
that we are to view Paul as using the love command in a way which is inspired by the way
Jesus used Lev 19:18b. That is, if Jesus interpreted Lev 19:18b in such a way as to combat
ethnically restrictive interpretations of the love command among fellow Jews, then one
could plausibly view Paul here in 5:14 as using the love command in a way inspired by
Jesus’ use of it in order to combat ethnic particularism among the Galatian Christians. For if
Jesus refused to exclude Gentiles on the basis that “love of neighbour” simultaneously
allowed for hatred of a Gentile enemy (cf. Matt 5:43–44), or that only love was due to an
ethnic “Jew” (Luke 10:25–37), then Paul could just as readily use Lev 19:18b (as
understood in light of Jesus’ use of it) to foster social harmony between Jewish and Gentile
Christians in Gal 5:14. Therefore, Lev 19:18b is not merely an authoritative Scripture from
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the Torah, it is as Paul uses it the authoritative interpretation from Jesus of Lev 19:18b.
This is not to say that Paul uses Lev 19:18b with exactly the same nuance as Jesus did.
Indeed, in light of Christ’s death and resurrection and the early Church’s mission as
depicted in Acts, Paul cannot use it in the same way. For, while Jesus did not restrict
neighbourly love only to his Jewish countrymen, he also did not obliterate the definition of
a “neighbour” as a fellow Jew, or an “enemy” as a Gentile, or a “Samaritan” as a Samaritan.
However, the vision Jesus had for the eventual inclusion of Gentiles has come about in
Paul’s ministry (Gal 2:8; cf. Acts 9:15). For Paul, therefore, within the Christian faith
“there is neither Jew nor Greek” (Gal 3:28). Consequently, the way in which Paul
understands the “neighbour” of Lev 19:18b undoubtedly has been transformed in order to
include Gentiles. For Paul, writing to Christian “brothers” (5:13 et passim), reference to the
“neighbour/brother” to be loved will necessarily be to that of the Christian, rather than to
the Jew. This does not, however, automatically lead to a kind of Christian universalism in
which all humanity is to be loved as a neighbour/brother (cf. Gal 6:10); nor does it preclude
the impetus to love those outside of one’s own group (just as Jesus taught his fellow Jews)
from being applied to the Galatian (or Roman) Christians to whom Paul writes. Rather, just
as Jesus did not obliterate the boundaries between who was a neighbour and who was not,
so the boundaries between the Christian brother/neighbour and the non-Christian outsider
are not obliterated by Paul. Paul can simultaneously exhort the Christians in Galatia and
Rome to love one another (i.e. their Christian neighbour/brother) without this being an
exclusive application of Lev 19:18b reserved only for insiders. However, the possibility of
loving outsiders (i.e. those who are not Christian neighbours/brothers) is at the same time
left open. Indeed, as we shall see in our overview of Rom 13:8 below, Paul teaches in Rom
13:1–7—based upon Jesus’ teaching to love one’s enemies—that non-Christian enemies are
to be loved as well.
If Paul knows of and makes use of the Jesus tradition—a tradition in which Jesus
interprets Lev 19:18b in a way which resists an ethnically centered interpretation of “love
your neighbour”—and Paul’s conviction is that the law “has been fulfilled” in the sense that
it has been eschatologically fulfilled by the love commandment as Jesus’ taught it, what is
the nature of this eschatological fulfilment?
If Christ has come to “fulfil” the law (Matt 5:17) and one such authoritative
interpretation of that law is Jesus’ interpretation of Lev 19:18b—understood as including
the obligation to love one’s Gentile enemies (5:43–44)—could it not be, then, that when
Paul says in Gal 5:14 that the law “has been fulfilled” by the commandment to love one’s
neighbour that he is referring both to the coming of Christ whose authoritative teaching
upon Lev 19:18b is part and parcel of this eschatological “fulfilment” of the law, as well to
the eschatological fulfilment of the law by the inclusion of the Gentiles into the Kingdom
which has occurred precisely in and through Paul’s ministry, made possible by Jesus’ death,
resurrection, and commissioning of Paul to the Gentiles? In light of the Galatians’ strife
over whether or not to adopt circumcision and become in essence Jewish, I suggest that
Paul uses Lev 19:18b not as a summary of the entire Torah, but rather as a way to
communicate that, for those Jews who follow Christ and his teachings, the loving of
Gentiles as Christian brothers (and this as Gentiles and not, via circumcision, only as
Jewish Christian brothers) is the eschatological fulfilment of God’s original intention to
include Gentiles in the Kingdom. That Paul received such Gentile-inclusive teaching upon
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Lev 19:18b from Jesus, and that the whole Mosaic law has now been fulfilled by Lev
19:18b, indicates that “in Christ Jesus … faith working through love” is the defining factor
of brotherhood rather than ethnic identity defined by circumcision (Gal 5:6). This is very
similar to Paul’s overall argument in Romans, as we shall see.
b. Romans 13:9
Although Paul directly quotes the love command in Rom 13:9, there is evidence that
throughout Rom 12:9–13:10 Paul has this commandment—and Jesus’ interpretations of it
—in mind. Furthermore, in order to understand the context in which Paul uses this
command, one must keep in mind Paul’s argument in chs. 9–11 of Romans, leading up to
his exhortations in chs. 12–15.
The churches in Rome, although having their beginnings as Jewish-Christian
congregations had, by the time of Paul’s writing, become predominantly Gentile in
orientation with only a Jewish minority. Paul’s anguish over the unbelief of his fellow
ethnic Jews (Rom 9:1–5) is followed by an explanation that election is and always has been
by faith and not human ancestry (9:6–29). The emphasis is upon God’s will and mercy
rather than upon a person or group’s right or merit. Paul’s reasoning following this in 9:30–
33 is a crux in his argument wherein he states unequivocally the irony that although ethnic
Israel pursued righteousness “by works” and via “law” they did not attain righteousness,
while Gentiles who did not pursue righteousness did attain it because righteousness comes
by faith. This leads logically to Paul’s statement in 10:4 that, “Christ is the fulfilment
(τέλος) of the law.” In his extensive study of this concept, Robert Badenas concludes that
the phrase, “fulfilment of the law” is “teleological-eschatological” in nature. That is, the
goal of righteousness which Israel sought through works of the law is only made complete
through faith in Christ. And if righteousness is through faith in Jesus Christ, then Gentiles
can become righteous as well since God’s righteousness is based upon faith rather than
works such as merit or ancestry (10:12, “for there is no difference between Jew and
Gentile”). Paul continues in ch. 11 to express great hope for his fellow ethnic Jews, and
warns Gentiles against arrogance (11:19–21). It is this wider context of Paul’s narrative
which must be borne in mind as one seeks to understand 12:9–13:10. The transitional verse
12:1 also provides good indications that Paul has the Jew/Gentile argument in mind as he
begins his ethical exhortations.
The “therefore” of 12:1 harkens back to all that Paul has said previously, but especially
to chs. 9–11. Consequently, Paul’s exhortation “on account of the mercies of God” in 12:1
harkens back to Paul’s earlier argument throughout chs. 9–11 in which Paul explains that
God has shown mercy to both Jew and Gentile. The term for “mercies” (οἰκτιρμῶν)
occurring in the noun form in 12:1 occurs in the verbal form in only one other place in
Romans: in Paul’s quotation of Exod 33:19 in 9:15 (οἰκτιρήσω … οἰκτιρω). But Paul
uses a synonymous term, ἐλεάω/ἔλεος, throughout chs. 9–11 (9:15, 16, 18, 23; 11:30–
32). Paul’s emphasis upon God’s mercy in chs. 9–11 occurs precisely amidst his discussion
of God’s mercy to Jews and Gentiles so that one could argue that Paul, by recalling in 12:1
this theme from chs. 9–11, is evoking not merely the notion of mercy but more specifically
the notion of God’s mercy to Jews and Gentiles. Commentators have difficulty explaining
the plural “mercies” (οἰκτιρμῶν) in 12:1, and it may just be that Paul has in mind God’s
dual mercy to Jew and Gentile discussed throughout chs. 9–11, a note which Paul struck at
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the start of his letter in 1:14–17. Whatever the linguistic explanation if 12:1, it is clear that
Paul’s exhorting the Roman Christians on the basis of God’s mercy has in view God’s
mercy to Jew and Gentile alike. Furthermore, this exhortation, which is based upon “the
mercies of God” (12:1), coming as it does in a pivotal place in which Paul transitions from
the theology of chs. 1–11 to the praxis of chs. 12–15, also undoubtedly applies to the
entirety of chs. 12–15. It is crucial, therefore, to read the following exhortations in chs. 12–
15 as an ethic to be applied to this new community made up of both Jew and Gentile to
whom God has shown mercy. In other words, the injunctions which Paul is about to embark
upon are particularly poignant for the Jew/Gentile issue.
After further warnings against arrogance (12:3), Paul hones in upon the theme of love
beginning in 12:9. The thrust of 12:9–13 seems generally to be concerned with the love
shown towards those to whom one is amenable (it must be sincere, good, generous,
hospitable, etc.), while 12:14–21 seems generally to be focused upon how to love those
who are hostile (it counters persecutors, those who are evil, and resists revenge). But a hard
and fast distinction between the objects of 12:9–13 and the objects of 12:14–21 cannot be
drawn. For although 12:14–21 seems to be advice more apropos for how believers are to act
towards outsiders, 12:16 is, in fact, directed towards insiders. This will be dealt with more
below, but suffice it to say here that one need not view 12:14–21 as only concerning
outsiders.
The exhortation in 12:14 to “bless the ones persecuting you, bless and do not curse” is
“the most commonly cited ‘allusion’ to dominical teaching (apart from the explicit texts in
1 Cor 7, 9, 11 and 1 Thess 4)” and is widely acknowledged to be an echo of Jesus’ teaching
upon love of enemy (Matt 5:44/Luke 6:27). Furthermore, 12:14 stands close in spirit to
12:17–21. Many have consequently seen these latter verses as being in some way inspired
by Jesus’ teaching upon love of enemy and the related injunctions found in close proximity
to it in the Sermon on the Mount/Plain. The exhortations against revenge (12:17, 19) and
towards peace (12:18), combined with the replacement of such a defensive posture with an
offensive posture which blesses and does “good” (12:17), feeds and gives drink to one’s
“enemy” (12:20), and which therefore replaces evil with good (12:21), clearly have the
same impulse as Jesus’ teaching upon love of enemy. Furthermore, such kindness in the
face of enmity carries within it the impetus to win over one’s “enemy” (12:20). Indeed,
Paul’s summative exhortation in 12:21 not to be overcome by evil but to overcome evil
with good sounds strikingly familiar to Jesus’ injunction to love one’s enemies in an effort
to win them over, as already pointed out above.
It is good to state again at this point that Jesus’ teaching on love of enemy is anchored
in his interpretation of Lev 19:18b, and that it was his response to some who justified
hatred of one’s “enemies” by means of this verse—a fact seldom acknowledged in
discussions of Paul’s alluding to Jesus’ teaching on this subject in Rom 12:14–21. This of
course makes perfect sense in the context of ch. 12 of Romans since Paul will go on to cite
Lev 19:18b in 13:8–9. But Paul’s allusion to Jesus’ teaching upon love of enemies in
12:14–21 also makes sense in light of Paul’s argument in chs. 9–11 regarding God’s mercy
towards Jew and Gentile alike. For if, as has been argued above, in his teaching to love
one’s enemies Jesus is countering the justification of the hatred of Gentiles by means of
appeal to Lev 19:18b (since the “neighbour” to be loved consisted of Jewish brothers only
and the “enemy” consisted of Gentiles), one can see why Paul would make use of this
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teaching from Jesus in his effort to foster unity between the Jews and Gentiles in the church
at Rome. If Jesus taught his fellow Jewish brothers not only that hatred of Gentiles could
not be warranted by appeal to Lev 19:18b but that such Gentile “enemies” were in fact to
be loved, then Paul could—on the basis of Jesus’ interpretation of Lev 19:18b—exhort the
Christians in Rome that love was due to those of other ethnicities, especially those Gentile
believers in Jesus one could now consider a Christian “brother” (12:10). Jesus’ teaching
upon love of Gentile enemies, then, is applied in 12:14–21 primarily to fellow believers of
both Jewish and Gentile stock. Yet, this is not to exclude Jesus’ teaching to love one’s
enemies from being applied to those outside of the Christian faith.
Chapter 13 continues the theme of “the good” found throughout 12:1–21. Whereas
Christians are to be oriented towards what is “good” in 12:2, 9 especially in relation to their
Christian brother, in 13:3–4 the Christian is to do “good” before the governing authorities
who exist not only to check those who do bad, but who exist as “God’s servant to do you
good” (13:3–4). And if Paul has Jesus’ teaching upon the love of one’s enemies in mind in
Rom 12:14–21, it would not be surprising if this notion lingers into 13:1–7.
If Jesus taught that love is to be shown to one’s ethnic “enemies,” and Paul applies this
teaching in Rom 12:14–21 to believers who were formerly such ethnic enemies before
coming to the Christian faith, in Rom 13:1–7 it may be said that Paul applies this teaching
of enemy love more along the lines in which the Matthean Jesus used it in 5:43–44. It was
argued earlier that when Matthew’s Jesus speaks of loving one’s Gentile enemies that the
“enemies” he has in mind are most likely the Romans who have subjugated his fellow Jews
and now stand in governing authority over them. Such love of enemies, furthermore, was to
be done in the fulfilment of Israel’s being salt and light to such Gentiles, and therefore has a
missional thrust. If, therefore, Paul appeals to Jesus’ teaching upon love of enemies in
12:14–21, it is not surprising to find him launch into a discussion of the believer’s
behaviour before the Roman governing authorities in 13:1–7. As Dunn rightly points out,
for Paul such love is to be shown to,
the enemy (12:14, 17, 21) or the state official (12:1–7 [sic: 13:1–7])—an interesting
variation, in effect, of the parable of the good Samaritan, where it was the
(religious) state officials (priest and Levite) who failed to offer neighbourly love
(Lk. 10:30–35).
Dunn is correct that love is to be shown to the “enemy” as well as the state official, and his
appeal to the Samaritan parable as applicable to a situation involving foreign enemies is
apropos, as would be an appeal to Matt 5:43–44. Yet, while the governing authorities may
be considered “enemies,” Paul counsels the Roman Christians to do what is proper and
right before the governing authorities.
Such conduct, furthermore, has a missional thrust for Paul. As Thompson notes, “as an
apostle charged with the spread of the gospel, Paul is concerned here not only about the
well-being of the Christian communities in Rome, but also with their collective witness to
the outside world.” Indeed, Paul in 1 Tim 2:1–7, as well as Peter in 1 Pet 2:11–17, both
evidence not only a similar pairing of love towards outsiders with respect for the governing
authorities, but they do so with a missional concern for Gentiles/non-Christians! Therefore,
Paul’s concern that the believers in Rome conduct themselves with the utmost uprightness
before the governing authorities continues the theme of the love of enemies begun in 12:14
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and carries with it a missional thrust on a par with that of the Matthean Jesus’ teaching
about love of enemies. Throughout 12:17–13:7, therefore, the ethos in which Paul writes is
one in which he exhorts believers to exhibit love towards their enemies (whether they be
Christian brothers of another ethnic stripe or otherwise), as well as to outsiders in general,
including the Roman civil officials. This must be borne in mind when one comes to 13:8–
10, where Paul quotes the love command.
In 13:8, once again Paul links the notion of debt with that of love. This, it was noted
above in the discussion of Gal 5:14, likely evidences Paul’s familiarity with Jesus’ own
linking of debt with love. Paul then quotes a litany of commandments from the Decalogue
and declares that these and any other commandments can be “summed up” with the
commandment to “love your neighbour as yourself” (13:9). It was noted that in 12:14 Paul
makes a very clear allusion to Jesus’ teaching upon the love of enemies. The enemy love
teaching also clearly underlies Paul’s exhortations in 12:17–21 and can also be said to be
felt in 13:1–7. Even more confident are commentators that dominical teaching stands
behind Paul’s words in 13:8–10.
The “neighbour” of Lev 19:18b, it has been repeatedly pointed out, was always deemed
a fellow Israelite within Jewish exegetical tradition. And although even a proselyte could be
bound to obey Lev 19:18b, the unconverted Gentile was not bound to obey it. But Paul also
brackets his quotation of Lev 19:18b in 13:9 with the statement that love “fulfils” the law in
13:8 and 13:10, a statement which, it was argued above, likely signals the fulfilment of the
eschatological hope of Gentile inclusion. Furthermore, as Jewett notes, Paul’s
contextualization of “love your neighbour” in Rom 13:9 effectively redefines who the
“neighbour” is. According to Jewett, “the neighbour” as Paul applies it here is “the
Christian neighbour of whatever cultural background.” This, as we saw, was also the case in
Gal 5:14—Paul applies Lev 19:18b not to Jews only but to Christians of both Jewish and
Gentile stock. In other words, for Paul Christians are the new people of God—a people in
which both Jews and Gentiles can consider one another “neighbours” and “brothers.” Once
again, the concept of a “neighbour” with some kind of restrictions as to who is in and who
is out is not obliterated here by Paul. Rather, for Paul the “neighbour” or “brother” is now
the fellow Christian, whether Jew or Gentile. Therefore, when Paul quotes Lev 19:18b in
13:9, he takes a Scripture which was often interpreted as being applicable only between
fellow ethnic Jews and—informed by Jesus’ handling of it—applies the love commandment
specifically to relations between fellow Christians of mixed ethnicity. While it might seem
natural to treat Paul’s call to love in 13:9 as applying to fellow Christians generically, Paul’s
use of the love maxim as inspired by Jesus’ use of it is nuanced with special regard to
ethnicity. Dunn, therefore, makes an important point here when he writes that, the love Paul
advocates “does not involve a restriction by physical proximity or ethnic acceptability.”
Jesus’ correction of his fellow countrymen that hatred of Gentile enemies be replaced with
love for them in Matt 5:43–44 has not only likely inspired Rom 12:14–21 so that Roman
Christians are to love their Christian neighbours whatever their ethnicity, but this teaching
to love one’s enemy has also inspired 13:1–7 so that non-Christian “enemies” are to be
loved as well. So, when Paul quotes Lev 19:18b in 13:9, it is highly likely that Paul is not
referring generically to “love” between fellow Christians or between Christians and
outsiders, but rather in the narrative context Paul has created he is evoking by the quotation
of Lev 19:18b—in continuity with Jesus’ use of this verse—the ethnic strife present among
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fellow Christians in Rome and probably also within the wider society, while simultaneously
providing the solution to such strife in Jesus’ use of Lev 19:18b.
It has already been noted that love as the fulfilment of the law brackets this section,
occurring in both 13:8 and 13:10. Not only does love fulfil all the commandments, love
“does not work evil towards his neighbour” (13:10). This last statement of Paul’s in essence
defines what he means by love “fulfilling” and “summarizing” the law. If love “does not
work evil” toward one’s neighbour, then of course such behaviour will supersede the
commandments which prohibit evil behaviour such as “do not commit adultery,” “do not
murder,” and so on. In this sense, love fulfils all the commandments Paul lists and more
(13:9, “and any other commandment”).
Yet, since Paul brackets this “summing up” of the commandments by Lev 19:18b with
the notion of a law-fulfilling love, this summarizing of the law is therefore subsumed under
the notion of fulfilment. This word “fulfil,” as observed in our discussion of Gal 5:14, has
eschatological connotations signalling the inclusion of the Gentiles into God’s kingdom. In
light of Paul’s argument in chs. 9–11 concerning God’s mercy towards both Jew and
Gentile, particularly his argument in 9:30–33 that righteousness cannot be attained apart
from Jesus Christ along with his statement that Christ is the completion of the law in 10:4,
as well as Paul’s certain awareness of the Jesus tradition in which Jesus taught the love of
one’s Gentile enemies, one can understand Paul’s words regarding how the love based upon
Jesus’ interpretation of Lev 19:18b fulfils the law as pertaining particularly to the
relationship between Jew and Gentile in the church to which Paul writes in Rome.
5. Conclusion
It has hopefully been adequately demonstrated that Lev 19:18b was interpreted and used in
at least two ways by the writers of the New Testament, who in all probability were inspired
and influenced by Jesus to use Lev 19:18b in these ways. The first way, as part and parcel
of the laws for just legal judging in Lev 19:15–18, and therefore used in the context of the
judiciary, is seen in Jas 2:8. Inspired by Jesus’ teaching as recorded in Matt 7:1–5, which—
like Jas 2:1–13—is a midrash upon Lev 19:15–18, one can only guess and assume that
Jesus would have been familiar with a legal interpretation of Lev 19:18b on a par with the
way it is used in Jas 2:8. Since such a legal reading was a known interpretation of Lev
19:18b not only in the earlier Jewish Damascus Document, but also in the later
Christian/Jewish Testament of Gad as well as in the later Jewish Sifra, and Jesus’ brother
made such a use of this interpretation while engaged with Jesus’ teaching upon Lev 19:15–
18, it is highly likely that Jesus too knew of this interpretation if in fact he did not on
occasion make use of it himself.
The second way Lev 19:18b was interpreted and used by Jesus is much more apparent
in the New Testament. It was argued that in both Matt 5:43–44 and Luke 10:25–37, Jesus
challenges more popular interpretations of Lev 19:18b in which the “neighbour” is defined
in narrowly ethnic (Jewish) terms. Interpretations of Lev 19:18b in which love was due
only a Jewish neighbour/brother so that hatred (Matt 5:43) or neglect (Luke 10:31–32)
doled out to the non-Jew could be justified are categorically rejected by Jesus. Such an
interpretation of Lev 19:18b by Jesus in which love is inclusive betrays an incipient mission
to Samaritans and Gentiles. Naturally, therefore, it is Jesus’ more outward-looking
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interpretation of Lev 19:18b that Paul draws upon in Gal 5:14 and Rom 13:9 in his mission
to Gentiles, in which he deals with ethnic tensions between Christian Jews and Gentiles.
Based upon the above study, some concluding thoughts are in order. First, it does not
seem adequate to discuss Paul’s use of the love maxim in terms of love as standing over
against legalism. It would seem a more apt way of discussing this would be in terms of
hermeneutics, rather than love/legalism or law/works. (If anything, the discussion can be
couched in terms of “love” versus “hate.”) For both Jesus’ reading and the commonly held
views of Lev 19:18b by his contemporaries betray exegetical judgments about how to
understand and interpret Lev 19:18b—however mutually exclusive these readings may be
from one another. Furthermore, Lev 19:18b is a part of Torah and a central tenet of Torah at
that.
Second, although Jesus made great use of Lev 19:18b, it is difficult to hold that
“love”—nebulously defined as it has been—is the central ethical maxim of Jesus and the
New Testament. To be sure, Jesus made use of Lev 19:18b in a way which was much more
open and welcoming to ethnic outsiders. Indeed, if there is a dominant, or at least striking,
way in which Jesus understood Lev 19:18b, surely this missional reading of “love your
neighbour” by Jesus fits the bill. However, in so interpreting Lev 19:18b in a way which
calls God’s people to love without restraint, Jesus did not obliterate the boundary lines
between those who belong to God’s people and those who do not. Nor does Paul, following
Jesus, obliterate such boundaries. For Paul, operating in a drastically different context than
Jesus, the “brothers” or “neighbours” are no longer Jews over against which stand Gentiles,
as in Jesus’ context. Rather, the brothers/neighbours are now Christians of both Jewish and
Gentile stock who stand over against the rest of the world—including, especially for the
Christians in Rome, the Roman Imperial government under which they live. Indeed, the
very missional nature of “love” toward outsiders, as Jesus and Paul seem to conceive of the
notion, presumes that there are in fact outsiders to be reached and, hence, to be loved.
Therefore, rather than speak in terms of a central ethic of love, it seems more appropriate to
speak of the missional nature of love. Undeniably, Paul made use of the principle of “love”
to ease tensions within the Christian communities with which he worked. However, it was
precisely in his mission to Gentiles that this tension arose and that Paul used this principle
of “love.” Moreover, Paul uses the love commandment not as a nebulously defined concept
but as a principle rooted in Torah and in Jesus’ conception of the Torah’s eschatological
inclusion of the Gentiles being fulfilled in and through Paul’s ministry. Therefore, the
inkling noted in the past to see love as a missional principle of Paul’s seems correct and
hopefully this has been fleshed out a bit here.
Although there is sure to be debate about exactly how Jesus, James, Paul or others in
the New Testament handle the love commandment, placing such a discussion within
contemporary halakhic discussions of Lev 19:18b will hopefully provide some helpful
clues for understanding this important commandment within early Christianity. In the space
which an essay provides, I have not dealt with all of the New Testament passages which
cite or allude to the love commandment of Lev 19:18b. It is hoped, however, that this study
can help inform other such uses and allusions to the love commandment in the New
Testament and that similar discussions in the future will help inform broader theological
and ethical engagement with the New Testament. To be sure, such passages will
undoubtedly be found to be influenced by Jesus’ exegesis of Lev 19:18b, whether that
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reading be judicial, whether it be Jesus’ reading of the love commandment which promotes
an ethnically inclusive view of “love” thus providing an incipient missional thrust toward
non-Jews, or whether it be some other reading of Lev 19:18b by Jesus yet to be determined.
REST, ESCHATOLOGY AND SABBATH IN MATTHEW 11:28–30: AN INVESTI

ANAPAUSIS*
Elizabeth Talbot
Jesus’ invitation and promise of rest (Matt 11:28–30) is part of Matthew’s special material.
This section of the Matthean narrative is preceded by Jesus’ praise and announcement of
authoritative knowledge (vv. 25–27) and it is followed by the only two sabbath stories in
this Gospel (12:1–14).
The first verse (v. 28) serves as a summary that will be developed and clarified in the
two verses that follow, and it may be divided into three parts: the invitation proper (v. 28a),
the invitees (v. 28b), and the promise (v. 28c). After disclosing himself as the Son who
possesses all knowledge and revelation and who chooses to whom he reveals the Father (v.
27), Jesus makes an invitation: “Come to me” (Δεῦτε πρός με, v. 28a). The invitation
proper (Matt 11:28a, b) is the link with the previous verse, which ended with the exposition
of the exclusive prerogative of Jesus to “choose” the recipients of the revelation he
possesses: he chooses all who are “laboring and burdened” (οἱ κοπιῶντες καὶ
πεφορτισμένοι, v. 28b). To the wearied and burdened Jesus promises: “I will give you
rest” (ἀναπαύσω ὑμας, v. 28c). He introduces himself as “the giver of rest” in the first
person singular.
The result of heeding the invitation to come to Jesus, defined as taking his yoke and
learning from him, is: “you will find rest (ἁνάπαυσιν) for your souls” (v. 29d). This is the
second time the word ἁνάπαυσις and its cognate terms appear in the invitation; first in
the invitation proper (v. 28), then in the explanation of the invitation (v. 29). The phrase
“and you will find rest for your souls” (καὶ εὑρήσετε ἀνάπαυσιν ταῖς ψυχαῖς
ὑμῶν) is a quotation from Jer 6:16.
Matthew’s use of the Jewish Scriptures is predominantly shaped by the Greek
translation. Given that Matthew uses ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms, can its use in the
LXX illumine the meaning of the Matthean narrative? The present study presents the results
of an analysis of the use of the term ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms throughout the LXX,
proposing that there are three main potential backgrounds for Jesus’ offer of rest, and that
these can be summarized under the categories of “wisdom’s repose,” “sabbath rest,” and
“peaceful inheritance.”
1. General Background of the LXX’s Use of Anapausis

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In the LXX, the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms are utilized 137 times with the
meaning of “resting place” or “rest,” and the word-group is used to portray different and
varied aspects of rest.
a. Pentateuch
There are 24 occurrences of the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms in the Pentateuch
(LXX). Six of the 24 occurrences (25%) relate to Israel’s descendants resting, finding rest,
or not finding rest due to disobedience. Sixteen of the 24 occurrences (67%) relate to the
sabbath concept: the observance of the seventh day, the seventh-month holy convocations,
and the seventh year (including the year of jubilee). The prominent meaning given to the
word-group in the Pentateuch is that of sabbath rest (seventh day, seventh-month
convocations, and seventh year), which is further attested by the fact that every occurrence
of the word in Exodus and Leviticus carries this meaning, making this the only meaning
assigned to the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms in Exodus and Leviticus.
b. Historical Books
There are 19 occurrences of the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms in the historical
books of the LXX. Four of the 19 occurrences (21%) relate to physical rest in which a
physically restful position is assumed, such as sitting or lying down. Fifteen of the 19
occurrences (79%) portray a peaceful state in which peace from evil, wandering, and
enemies is experienced. Within this last category we find that 11 of the 19 times (58%) this
word is used, the meaning specifically refers to peace from enemies for the people of
Israel/Jews. Peace from enemies is the most prominent meaning of the word ἀνάπαυσις
and its cognate terms in this section of the LXX and it mainly relates to two historical
periods: Israel under the Davidic dynasty and the Jews during the Persian reign. Therefore,
ἀνάπαυσις (and its cognate terms) in this section of the LXX, is a term used mainly with
the meaning of “peaceful dwelling” due to the absence of extrinsic or outer trouble, such as
enemies and foes, and it is experienced prominently in a collective or corporate manner, as
the people of God (Israel/Jews).
c. Poetic Books
There are 44 occurrences of the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms in the poetic
books of the LXX. The word is used with various meanings that may be grouped in four
major categories: rest as death; rest from toils, burdens and labors; rest as a residing place
and rest as the state of the wise. An English term that could most conveniently summarize
all predominant meanings is “repose.” It follows that a personal “repose” (not collective as
in the historical section of the LXX) is the main meaning of the word in the poetic books of
the LXX, whether physical or emotional, whether in life or in death. Sirach is the book that
utilizes the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognates the most in this section of the LXX (22
occurrences of the word and its cognate terms; 50% of the overall occurrences in the poetic
books), and it emphasizes rest as a state of being obtained by instruction and wisdom from
the Lord. This type of rest, given when in possession of instruction and education, is the
goal of the book which concludes with an invitation to repose in opposition to labor and
burden and to submit oneself to be in yoke with wisdom in order to experience rest
(ἀνάπαυσις, Sir 51:23–27).
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d. Prophetic Books
There are fifty occurrences of the word ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms in the prophetic
books (LXX) used with three main meanings: ceasing an activity, relief from trouble, anger,
fear and other burdens, and dwelling or settling in the land, the last being the most
prominent (58%), often providing the parallel word of “dwelling” or “inheritance” to
ἀνάπαυσις and its cognates in the same verse. The “collective” sense of the word found
in the historical section of the LXX is regained in this section, with a special emphasis on
the people of Israel settling and dwelling in their own land as part of the Lord’s intervention
to redeem them from captivity. Isaiah carries the weight of the occurrences of the word,
thereby representing the overall usage of the word in the prophetic section of the LXX.
These three predominant meanings given to ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms in the
different sections of the LXX could be summarized as: “sabbath rest to the Lord” in the
keeping of the law, “the promise of a peaceful dwelling for the people of God,” and “the
repose brought about by the possession of wisdom.”
2. Specific LXX Background of Jesus’ Offer of Rest (Matthew 11:28)

The range of possible meanings for the ἀνάπαυσις word-group in the LXX has been
analyzed. What difference could the specific LXX background to the actual offer of rest
make? Jesus makes an invitation: “Come to me … and I will give you rest” (Δεῦτε πρός
με … κἀγὼ ἀναπαύσω ὑμᾶς, Matt 11:28 a, c). The verb ἀναπαύω is translated “to
give rest” in the active voice and “to rest” or “take rest” in the middle voice.
There are three prominent backgrounds found in the LXX for the offer of rest: the first is
found in wisdom literature. The author of Sirach and “personified Wisdom” speak similar
invitations (e.g. “Draw near to me” (ἐγγίσατε πρός με) in Sir 51:23; “Come to me”
(προσέλθετε πρός με) in Sir 24:19). In Sirach, the sage issues an invitation to the
“unlearned” to come to him and dwell in the house of instruction, while he also claims that
he has found for himself much ἀνάπαυσις (cf. Sir 51:23, 27). Sirach can do this because
he has earlier portrayed Wisdom herself as issuing the invitation to come (cf. Sir 24:19).
Now as a teacher, representing and mediating Wisdom, he can offer the invitation in this
form. The same would apply to Jesus, as Wisdom’s representative and mediating teacher.
Wisdom and the teacher of wisdom do not, however, offer rest in the first person singular,
as is the case with Jesus’ promise in the future tense found in Matt 11:28 (ἀναπαύσω). In
wisdom literature, the possession of instruction is associated with giving rest: “Instruct your
son, and he will give you rest, and he will give your soul an ornament” (Prov 29:17, NETS).
In this case, the future tense in the third person singular (ἀναπαύσει) is the result of the
son receiving instruction in the present. A similar case is found in Sir 3:6, “… he who
listens to the Lord will give rest to his mother.”
A second favorable background for this promise is found in Exod 33:14. Moses’
assertion that the Lord has said that he knows Moses and Moses’ prayer that he may know
the Lord (Exod 33:12, 13) are followed by the promise from God to Moses, “My presence
shall go with you, and I will give you rest” (Exod 33:14). That Matthew is presenting Jesus
in a Mosaic context is strongly suggested by the narrative order: the intimate, reciprocal
knowledge is then followed by the promise of rest in the first person singular in the future
tense. However, Matthew uses a different verb than the one used in its Septuagintal
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rendition: “I will give you rest” (καταπαύσω σε) is used in Exod 33:14, while “I will
give you rest” (ἀναπαύσω ὑμᾶς) is used in Matt 11:28c. The promise made by Yahweh
is in the first person singular to the second person singular. The invitation made by Jesus
(Matt 11:28) is made in the first person singular to the second person plural, highlighting
the inclusiveness of all (πάντες) who are weary and burdened (v. 28a). Matthew’s
presentation of Jesus as the new and greater Moses, the ultimate law interpreter in the light
of his exclusive knowledge of the Father (v. 27) should be taken into consideration. The
prominent meaning given to the ἀνάπαυσις word-group in the Pentateuch is that of
sabbath rest. The exclusive meaning of ἀνάπαυσις with the force of sabbath rest in
Exodus and Leviticus (LXX) would also explain Matthew’s deliberate replacement of “I will
give you rest” (καταπαύσω σε) in Exod 33:14, with “I will give you rest” (ἀναπαύσω
ὑμᾶς) in Matt 11:28c.
Thirdly, aside from the Wisdom and Mosaic backgrounds of this promise of rest, a
strong eschatological context can be established. It is in this context that the introduction of
a mostly overlooked background to this text must be brought into consideration: the
promise of rest (ἀνάπαυσις) made by God to the Davidic dynasty in the historical books
(LXX) and to the sheep of Israel in the prophetic books (LXX).
Jesus promises “I will give rest” (Matt 11:28); ἀναπαύσω is found nowhere else in
the New Testament. This exact wording, in the first person singular, appears only three
times in the LXX, and all three come from the mouth of the Lord: 2 Kgdms 7:11; 1 Chr
22:9; and Ezek 34:15. The first two occurrences are promises to the Davidic dynasty and
the third relates to the future Davidic king. In 2 Kgdms 7 the Lord makes a covenant with
David. He reminds David that he took him from following the sheep to leading Israel. He
then goes on to clarify how this covenant, made with the leader of Israel, is also for the
people of Israel: “I will also appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, that
they may live in their own place and not be disturbed again, nor will the wicked afflict them
any more as formerly” (2 Kgdms 7:10). Following the description of a place without
disturbances for Israel, the Lord then promises rest to David: “I will give rest to you
(ἀναπαύσω σε) from all your enemies” (2 Kgdms 7:11). Following the promise of rest,
God discloses to David that he will raise up a descendant after him that would be the one to
build the house for the Lord (7:12, 13). The Lord then uses the “father-son” language, also
present in Matt 11:27: “I will be a father to him and he will be a son to me” (2 Kgdms
7:14). In the Florilegium, from Cave 4 at Qumran, 2 Sam 7:14 is quoted and applied to the
eschatological Son of David, who shall arise with the Interpreter of the Law in Zion at the
end of times. This father-son language is often used of God and the king in the Jewish
Scriptures, but in this case it is applied to the future Davidic king. The background of 2
Kgdms 7:11–14, which contains a direct verbal link to ἀναπαύσω, is of special
significance due to the eschatological implications of such a promise and the Matthean
interest in portraying Jesus as the promised Davidic shepherd King (e.g. Matt 1:1; 2:6;
9:27; 21:9). The narrative that follows (12:3, 4) will further emphasize the Davidic
overtones of this pericope.
The second occurrence of ἀναπαύσω in the LXX is found in 1 Chr 22:9. David relates
to his son Solomon the promise that the Lord has made to him. Solomon would not only be
a man of rest (ἀναπαύσεως), but the Lord also promises for him what he promised to
David: “I will give rest (ἀναπαύσω) to him” (1 Chr 22:9). The Lord promises David that
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he will give him and his son rest (rest for the people of Israel through their leaders is
implied).
The third and last occurrence of the verb ἀναπαύω in the first person singular (future
tense) is found in the prophetic books ( LXX) and it follows a prophecy against the
shepherds of Israel. God will rescue his sheep (Israel) from the false shepherds, and he will
search for them (Ezek 34:10–11) and care for them (34:12–13) himself. The end result will
be rest: “They will rest (ἀναπαύσονται) in perfect prosperity” (34:14). The promise that
follows comes from the mouth of God himself: “I will feed my sheep and I will give rest
(ἀναπαύσω) to them” (34:15), echoing the psalmist’s portrayal of the Lord as his
shepherd, who takes him to green grass and waters of rest (ἀναπαύσεως) in Ps 22(23):2
(LXX). This time the enemies of Israel, from whom God will give them rest, are their own
“shepherds” and through his future Davidic prince, God would break the bars of their
oppressive “yoke” (Ezek 34:27). The relationship between God’s promise of rest mediated
through the future Davidic king and the breaking of the shepherds’ oppressive yoke should
be noted. The restoration of Israel is spoken of in terms of shepherd/sheep (Ezek 34:11–31)
and the eschatological hope of the Messianic rest finds fulfillment when the “one” Davidic
shepherd king reigns over them (Ezek 34:23–24). God’s giving of rest is therefore mediated
by the divine representative, the future Davidic king. The prominence of “rest” and “yoke”
may be observed throughout the Matthean narrative in this section (Matt 11:28–30).
Matthew’s emphasis on the “lost sheep of Israel” is attested in 10:5, 6; 15:24, and on the
portrayal of Jesus as the Davidic shepherd king in, for example, 2:6 and 9:36.
Particularly prominent in current scholarship is the Matthean portrayal of Jesus as the
eschatological Davidic shepherd who heals, gathers, and teaches the sheep of Israel in light
of Ezekiel’s vision (Ezek 34; 37). When Matthew depicts Jesus’ promise that he will give
rest, it may well be then, that this is to be interpreted against the backdrop of Yahweh
promising the final “rest” to Israel, through the Davidic dynasty in the historical books (2
Kgdms 7:11; 1 Chr 22:9) and through the future Davidic king in the prophets (Ezek 34:15;
cf. Isa 11:10).
3. Specific LXX Background of Jesus’ Promise of Finding Rest (Matthew

11:29)
Matthew 11:29 starts in the same manner as 11:28, with an imperative verb, linking this
part of the invitation with the preceding one and further clarifying it (v. 29 is in apposition
to v. 28). What follows the promise of rest is a command to take up “the yoke” (τὸν
ζυγόν); a genitive pronoun qualifies the yoke: “my yoke.” The use of “yoke” is usual in
contexts of dependence and submission. In the LXX the term is often used for the rule of
alien nations as oppressors of Israel (e.g. Assyria in Isa 14:29, Babylon in Isa 47:6). But for
the people of Israel it also became a metaphor for submission to the instruction of the law
and the kingdom of heaven. This is attested in the LXX (e.g. Jer 5:5; Sir 51:26), in later
Judaism (e.g. m. Avot 3:5), and in the New Testament (e.g. Acts 15:10).
The image of the yoke is applied to wisdom and Torah in Jewish writings (cf. 2 Bar.
41:3–5; Sir 6:18–37; 51:25–26), where yoke is used positively and negatively, usually
juxtaposed with each other. The negative use of yoke relates to worldly cares and the
positive use to Torah, wisdom, heaven, and commandments (e.g. m. Avot 3:5–6). Yoke also
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refers to eschatological knowledge. In Ezek 34, in the context of God promising that he
would give rest (ἀναπαύσω) to the sheep of Israel through the coming Davidic prince,
yoke is used of the burden that the religious leaders of Israel place over the sheep of Israel,
which God would break by means of the reign of the eschatological divine agent (Ezek
34:27; cf. 34:23–26).
Jesus proclaims his own interpretation of the law in light of his exclusive knowledge of
the Father (v. 27): “my yoke” (τὸν ζυγόν μου, v. 29a). Jesus is not just inviting others to
join him in the yoke of instruction of the Torah which is considered wisdom (as Sirach does
in Sir 51:26), but he is proclaiming himself the eschatological re-interpreter, revealer and
mediator of the heavenly yoke in light of his mission (vv. 27, 29). Jesus’ yoke is the divine
alternative to the oppressive yoke offered by the shepherds of Israel (cf. Ezek 34:27), and
he will break theirs and offer his.
Those who accept Jesus’ offer are promised: “you will find rest for your souls” (καὶ
εὑρήσετε ἀνάπαυσιν ταῖς ψυχαῖς ὑμῶν, Matt 11:29). In the LXX, this quotation
from Jer 6:16 reads, καί εὑρήσετε ἁγνισμὸν ταῖς ψυχαῖς ὑμῶν (Jer 6:16 LXX).
Matthew agrees with the LXX (against the MT) in both the plural of souls/selves (ψυχαῖς)
and the verbal form, but exchanges Jeremiah’s “purification” ( NETS) for “rest” (MT). In
other words, Matthew quotes the LXX (Jer 6:16) word-for-word with the exception of
“rest,” which he edits to read ἀνάπαυσις, against “purification” (ἁγνισμόν) in the LXX.
By quoting Jer 6:16, Matthew makes an allusion to Yahweh’s peace offer that was rejected
by Israel and resulted in Exile. There are two significant questions to be asked of this
sentence: Why does Matthew replace “purification” with “rest” (ἀνάπαυσις)? And what
is the force of “souls”?
To answer the first question, some scholars argue for a word link with 11:28 and the
Hebrew text of Jer 6:16 as the main reasons for the edition. Matthew wants the link with v.
28, and the Hebrew term ( ‫ )מרגוע‬enables him to make it. The translation proposed by
Matthew renders the Hebrew better than the LXX does, and it agrees with the usual LXX
translation of this verb and noun. The LXX translation of ‫ מרגוע‬is very unusual; the most
common translation of this Hebrew word-group when its meaning is considered to be
“being quiet” is ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms. There are other places where Matthew
turns to Hebrew in a LXX quotation (Matt 2:15; cf. Hos 11:1; Matt 2:18; cf. Jer 31(38):15
LXX). These modifications are usually minor (one or two words) and serve to agree better
with the Hebrew. The exception is Matt 27:9–10, where Matthew’s redaction of Zech 11:13
is not modest and it suggests an effort to fit the narrative context. Overall, Matthew uses a
revision of the LXX text that is in closer agreement with the Hebrew text.
Could it be that the LXX background themes for the meaning of the ἀνάπαυσις word-
group also played a part in influencing Matthew’s search for a more appropriate term
resulting in the change of the text? In the poetic books of the LXX, an important force of
ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms is the rest that implies a state of the soul achieved by
seeking instruction and wisdom from the Lord, and wisdom, in many instances, is opposed
to “laboring” (cf. Prov 29:17; Eccl 9:17; Sir 3:6; 6:28; 18:16; 22:13; 28:16; 30:34[33:26];
51:27). Sirach offers promising parallels to the Matthean promise of finding rest. In Sir
6:27–28, the author promises that those who seek and get a hold of wisdom will also find
“rest” (ἀνάπαυσις). Ἀνάπαυσις is promised in conjunction with “instruction.” Sirach
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33:26(30:34) makes a direct connection between the two, “Work with instruction, and you
will find rest.” The prayer of the son of Sirach also juxtaposes the yoke of instruction with
finding rest (ἀνάπαυσις, Sir 51:26–27). Furthermore, he counsels the uneducated to place
their neck under a yoke (ζυγός), and let their soul (ψυχή) receive instruction (cf. Sir
51:26); both of these words are present in 11:29. Wisdom is identified with the Torah (Sir
24:23). Wisdom’s formulations offer a clear background to Matthew’s choice of “rest” from
the MT in place of “purification” from the LXX rendition of Jer 6:16.
But, might the other LXX background themes also illumine Matthew’s choice of “rest”?
A Mosaic background should be considered. The use of the word ἀνάπαυσις and its
cognate terms in the Pentateuch is very specific: the prominent meaning given to the
ἀνάπαυσις word-group is that of sabbath rest (whether relating to the seventh-day,
seventh-year or seventh-month holy convocation). Furthermore, this force is the only
meaning given to the word ἀνάπαυσις in Exodus and Leviticus. In Matthew’s time, the
word ἀνάπαυσις had become normative for “sabbath day of rest.” A Mosaic background
(Exod 33:12–14) is promising, portraying Jesus as the new and greater Moses, the
definitive interpreter of the law in light of his absolute knowledge of the Father. In the
sabbatical section that follows (Matt 12:1–14), Jesus declares himself “Lord of the sabbath”
(Matt 12:8). In support of this observation, a Mosaic background has already been proposed
as part of the connotation of the offer of rest in v. 28. Furthermore, the Pentateuch also
portrays the relationship between “rest” and “soul” (cf. Lev 16:31; Deut 28:65). The usage
of the word ἀνάπαυσις in Matt 11:29d could therefore be a deliberate Matthean edition
of Jer 6:16 LXX, linking Jesus’ invitation and promise (Matt 11:28–30), with the sabbatical
section that follows (Matt 12:1–14), in which Jesus eventually declares himself “Lord of
the sabbath” (Matt 12:8).
A Davidic eschatological background has been proposed as a possible background for
the use of the ἀνάπαυσις word-group in Jesus’ offer of rest in v. 28 because ἀναπαύσω
appears only three times in the LXX exclusively in this context (2 Kgdms 7:11; 1 Chr 22:9;
Ezek 34:15). The presence of the eschatological kingdom was often promised in terms of
“rest” (ἀναπαυσις), as can be seen from the majority usage of the word ἀνάπαυσις
with the force of “the final dwelling of the people of God” in the prophetic books of the
LXX (e.g. Isa 11:10; 65:9, 10). In later traditions, the kingdom is often spoken of in terms of
ἀνάπαυσις (cf. 2 Clem. 5:5). The specific promise of Yahweh that he will give
ἀνάπαυσις to Israel through the coming Davidic prince is of decisive importance in v. 29.
In Ezek 34:15–27, Yahweh promises rest and the breaking of the “yoke” that enslaves the
sheep of Israel. The prominence of “rest” and “yoke” is observed in Matt 11:28–30.
Matthew proposes a causality relationship between the two words in v. 29: taking the yoke
of Jesus results in rest (ἀνάπαυσις) for the soul.
In the LXX, the force of “soul” (ψυχή) is primarily portrayed as the center of the inner
life/self of a person, as the individual or living being. “Rest” and “soul” are used together in
the LXX. Of relevance is the instance found in Deut 28:65, where God does not allow his
people to find rest among the nations due to their disobedience, and he gives them despair
of soul. In Deut 28:65 there is a parallelism between “no rest” and “despair of soul.” In the
poetic books there are five instances where ἀνάπαυσις and ψυχή are used in direct
connection which each other and all occurrences use “soul” with the force of inner self: Pss
22(23):2, 3; 114 (116):7; Prov 29:17; Sir 6:26, 28; 51:26–27. The narrative of Ps 22(23):2–
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3 proposes that the waters of rest and restoration of soul are related to each other. In Ps
114(116):7 the writer uses both words when he orders his own soul (inner self) to return to
its rest. The two words (“rest” and “soul”) appear in Prov 29:17 in parallel relation to each
other: rest is paralleled to delight of soul.
Sirach 6:26, 28 is an exhortation to seek wisdom with all the soul (inner self) and the
result will be that the soul will find wisdom’s rest. The son of Sirach parallels placing the
neck under a yoke and letting the soul (inner self) receive instruction (Sir 51:26). He claims
that, in doing this, he has found much rest (ἀνάπαυσις, Sir 51:27). All three words (yoke,
rest, soul) in this passage are present in Matt 11:29. Due to the usage of these key words,
Sir 51:26–27 is a clear background for the Matthean text.
The prominent force of soul in connection with rest in the LXX is that of inner self. In
the Matthean narrative (11:29), when Jesus says that those who take his yoke upon them
will find ἀνάπαυσις for their souls, he is promising a benefit experienced in the inner self
that can be interpreted against a three-fold background: an inner sabbath rest offered by the
new and greater Moses (Pentateuch), a present eschatological rest brought about by the
Davidic shepherd/king (historical/prophetic books) and the inner repose realized through
the presence of personified Wisdom (poetic books).
4. Conclusion
The LXX’s use of ἀνάπαυσις and its cognate terms inform the exegesis of Matt 11:28–30
and confirm the Messianic/Christological overtones through the predominant meanings
given to the ἀνάπαυσις word-group: “sabbath rest” in the Pentateuch, and “peaceful
dwelling/inheritance” in the historical and prophetic books and “Wisdom’s repose” in the
poetic books.
The prominent meanings of the ἀνάπαυσις word-group in the general LXX usage of
the term consistently correspond with the three Septuagintal specific backgrounds of Jesus’
offer and promise of finding rest. These dominant forces of the ἀνάπαυσις word-group
provide a new fertile background for the analysis of Matt 11:28–30. These three prominent
Septuagintal themes—wisdom’s rest, sabbath, and eschatology—may in fact color the
message of this passage which re-interprets the sabbath and eschatological hopes of the
Jewish Scriptures by deliberately portraying Jesus and his mission as Wisdom’s teacher,
new Mosaic mediator, and interpreter of the law and eschatological Davidic
shepherd/prince. Jesus can be seen as the embodiment and fulfillment of the eschatological
Messianic rest typified by the sabbath and proclaimed by Wisdom.
In addition, the offer and promise of ἀνάπαυσις could also be interpreted as a three-
fold reality experienced in the inner self of each individual who heeds Jesus’ invitation (v.
29): the inner repose brought about by the instruction and presence of Wisdom (poetic
books), a sabbath rest for the soul, offered by the new and greater Moses (Pentateuch), and
a present eschatological rest experienced within, brought about by the divine Davidic
shepherd/king (historical/prophetic books).
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ISAIAH 42 AND THE CHARACTERIZATION OF JESUS IN
MATTHEW 12:17–21*
Alicia D. Myers
1. Introduction
After reporting Jesus’ healing of the sick in a crowd following him and warning them to tell
no one of his location in Matt 12:15–16, the Gospel writer informs his audience that Jesus’
actions fulfilled Scripture, writing:
So that the word through Isaiah the prophet might be fulfilled which says: “Behold
my servant whom I chose, my beloved in whom my soul is well-pleased; I will
place my spirit upon him, and he will announce justice to the nations. He will
neither quarrel nor will he cry out, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets; He
will not break a bruised reed, and will not snuff out a smoldering wick until he
should drive justice to victory. And in his name the nations will hope.” (Matt
12:17–21)
This appeal to Isa 42:1–4 in Matt 12:17–21 has long been a focus of considerable attention
for Matthean scholars. As a part of what was once traditionally called Isaiah’s “Servant
Songs,” the appearance of Isa 42 in Matthew’s Gospel has often been used to suggest that
Matthew reflects a “Suffering Servant” Christology. In the wake of Morna Hooker’s
revolutionary work Jesus and the Servant, however, many scholars have abandoned such
theories.
Yet, in the ensuing rush to avoid association with a “Suffering Servant” paradigm in
Matt 12, significant aspects of Matthew’s presentation of Jesus as the servant of Isa 42 have
been overlooked. In particular, although recent scholarship is finally recognizing thematic
connections between Matt 12:17–21 and its larger context, important links between
Matthew’s appeal to Isa 42 and the entirety of Matt 11–14 remain unexplored. Moreover,
the aversion some scholars have in recognizing Jesus as “servant” has resulted in limited
exploration into the significance of the designation “servant” in the Mediterranean milieu.
Indeed, the desire to steer clear of servant imagery has even inspired some exegetes to
argue that Matthew’s emphasis on Jesus as Son of God elsewhere in his Gospel trumps any
mention of Jesus as servant in Matt 12.
Rather than shying away from the servant imagery of Matt 12, or relegating it to fit a
predominately “Son of God” Christology, the present study is an attempt to allow the text
of Matthew to speak for itself. To do so, this study will explore how Isa 42 contributes to
Matthew’s larger characterization of Jesus in his Gospel as well as how that presentation of
Jesus resonates with his milieu. The study begins with a brief history of scholarship and
then moves on to examine the quotation of Isa 42:1–4 within the larger context of Matt 11–
14. Next, the way in which this quotation resonates with the socio-cultural background of
the Gospel will be explored with special attention given to discussions of ideal kingship
present in the larger Greco-Roman world. Through this study, it will be argued that
Matthew’s employment of Isa 42 does not compete with other images used to describe
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Jesus in his Gospel. Instead, this text reinforces Matthew’s overarching characterization of
Jesus as God’s divinely appointed ideal king who was sent to vivify God’s will on earth.
2. A Brief History of Interpretation: From a Detached Proof-text to a Key

Quotation
How Matthew’s appeal to Isa 42 fits into the surrounding context of the chapter has not
been an easy question for scholars to answer. In fact, past scholars often remark on how this
Scripture reference seems so loosely connected to the larger pericope. Instead of
functioning as a significant contribution to Matthew’s characterization of Jesus, these
scholars argue that Isa 42:1–4 functions only as a proof-text. The proof-text links Jesus’
withdrawal and call for silence in Matt 12:15–16 with the comment about the servant’s lack
of quarrelling in v. 19 (Isa 42:2). According to this reading, the rest of the quotation is
gratuitous, simply included because of its traditional association with Jesus’ ministry or its
existence in an early Christian testimonia. Interpreting Matthew’s inclusion of Isa 42 as a
separate piece of tradition rather than as a text anchored in its surrounding context has led
these scholars to two extremes: one, either they import the entirety of the “Suffering
Servant” concept into the quotation, believing it to be a part of the tradition Matthew was
forced to include; or two, they exclude any significance of the word “servant” because of its
perceived lack of connection to the rest of the pericope.
More recent scholars, however, have questioned this consensus. They have found
numerous previously unseen connections between Matt 12:17–21 and the larger context of
Matt 11–13. The six themes usually noted by these scholars are in the form of key words
and motifs that are repeated throughout this section of the Gospel, including: (1) the
significance of the “spirit” in 12:18 and again in vv. 22–37; (2) the frequent use of the word
κρίσις throughout this section of Matthew; (3) the description of Jesus’ healing ministry in
Matt 12 as not crushing the “battered reed” or snuffing out the “smoldering wick”; (4)
Gentile inclusion (11:25–27; 12:21, 38–41); (5) the discussion of family with the implied
obedience of the παῖς and Jesus’ words that “whoever should do the will of my Father in
heaven is my brother and sister and mother” (12:47–50); and finally (6) the consistent
theme of rejection that surfaces throughout Matt 11–13 (11:15–19, 20–24; 12:14, 24–37;
13:13–15, 54–58).
Acknowledging the links between Matt 12:17–21 and its immediate context has freed
some scholars to notice connections between the quotation from Isaiah to Matthew’s overall
portrayal of Jesus. Jack Kingsbury emphasizes the similarity between Matt 3:17, 12:18, and
17:5—three texts that describe Jesus as God’s “beloved” and as one with whom God is
“well-pleased.” In light of these parallels, Kingsbury concludes that Matthew’s quotation of
Isa 42 is meant to further strengthen his consistent “Son of God” Christology. David Hill,
on the other hand, perceives a point of connection between Isa 42 in Matt 12 and Isa 53 in
Matt 8. Hill connects these two texts because he still regards Isa 42 and 53 as “Servant
Songs.” According to Hill, both these quotations signify that for Matthew, “Jesus heals as
‘Servant.’ ” Richard Beaton differs from both Kingsbury and Hill, choosing instead to read
Matthew’s use of Isa 42 in light of all of Matthew’s other explicit Isaiah quotations. With
his cumulative investigation, Beaton argues that Jesus embodies a paradox. He is one who
humbly reaches out to the marginalized, while also being the one with the authority to
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establish God’s eschatological reign on earth.
3. Broadening the Scope: Matthew 11–14

The contributions of these more recent scholars recognize the impact Matthew’s appeal to
Isa 42 has upon his overall characterization of Jesus. These exegetes identify some
significant connections between Matt 12:17–21, chs. 11–13, and broader trans-Gospel
themes. Unfortunately, however, they consistently overlook how Matthew’s quotation
reflects rhetorical practices of his milieu and the structural clues that point to Matt 14 being
included in the larger context of Matt 12 as well.
a. Isaiah 42:1–4 in Matthew 12:17–21 as Paraphrasis
Scholars have long recognized that ancient methods of quotation differ from modern
practices in that they are not necessarily verbatim copying of a tradition or text. Instead,
ancient authors have much more flexibility than their modern counterparts through
techniques such as prosopopoeia and paraphrasis. Ancient authors create speeches for
characters in line with that character’s personality, age, temperament, and situation by
means of prosopopoeia. When quoting traditions and texts through their narrators, ancient
authors can use the technique of paraphrasis, or paraphrase, to alter quotations to fit new
contexts. Matthew’s quotation of Isa 42:1–4 does not qualify as an example of
prosopopoeia, since the text is an editorial aside by the narrator. Instead, this quotation,
which differs from any other known version of Isaiah, can be understood in light of the
practice of paraphrase. Theon defends the use of paraphrase by writing,
Despite what some say or have thought, paraphrasis (paraphrase) is not without
utility. The argument of opponents is that once something has been said well it
cannot be done a second time, but those who say this are far from hitting on what is
right. Thought is not moved by any one thing in only one way so as to express the
idea that has occurred to it in a similar form, but it is stirred in a number of different
ways, and sometimes we are making a declaration, sometimes asking a question,
sometimes making an inquiry, sometimes beseeching, and sometimes expressing
our thought in some other way. There is nothing to prevent what is imagined from
being expressed equally well in all these ways. (Prog. 62)
That paraphrase was known and used by biblical authors is supported by John
Kloppenborg. In particular, Kloppenborg explores the employment of paraphrase in the
“Jesus traditions” included in the Epistle of James. According to Kloppenborg, the
similarities behind certain statements in James and material traditionally ascribed to Jesus
in the Gospel of Matthew are the result of the author of James using paraphrase. Taking
Jesus’ words and making them his own, the author of James reworks the Jesus traditions in
order to convince his audience of the authority and truth of his instructions.
Relying on definitions of paraphrase from Theon (Prog. 62–64) and Quintilian (Inst.
10.5.1–5), Kloppenborg notes that paraphrase was used by students at all levels of
education. While young students performed relatively minor changes to well-known texts
in their paraphrases, more advanced students could even go so far as to place a saying in a
completely new context. Students and authors resorted to paraphrasing known traditions in
order to show their mastery of the traditional material and to attempt to improve upon the
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wording of the original text or tradition. In this way, paraphrases were meant to “rival” the
original text in conveying meaning in an even better or more applicable way (Quintilian,
Inst. 10.5.5). As such, paraphrased texts, although usually still recognizable as coming from
another source, were manipulated by authors who placed them in new contexts according to
the meaning they hoped to communicate to their audiences.
Ancient authors resorted to verbatim and paraphrased quotations not only to show their
own skill, but also because such quotations contribute to the authority behind the author’s
words—especially if they have an authoritative or divine origin. Like prophetic oracles in
the larger Greco-Roman world, the application of Isa 42 to Jesus in Matt 12 serves as
divine testimony of Jesus’ authority as God’s appointed “servant.” Matthew makes the
connection to the divine even stronger with his implicit identification of God as the real
speaker of Isa 42:1–4 when he informs his audience that what was spoken came “through”
(διὰ + genitive) Isaiah rather than spoken “by” (ὑπὸ + genitive) Isaiah. This introductory
statement is a modification of Matthew’s original formula found in his first quotation of
Scripture in 1:22–23. Matthew 1:22–23 is also from Isaiah, but Matthew introduces it as
“what was spoken by the Lord (ὑπὸ κυρίου) through the prophet (διὰ τοῦ
προφήτου).” Throughout the rest of his Gospel, and in 12:17–21 in particular, Matthew
abbreviates this quotation formula when the narrator quotes Scripture. Instead of repeatedly
using ὑπὸ κυρίου, Matthew generally identifies the prophet through whom the words of
the Lord were spoken and allows his διὰ-construction to remind his audience of the true
origin of these words (cf. 2:5, 17; 3:3; 4:14; 8:17; 12:17; 13:35; 21:4). As a part of this
larger pattern, Matthew’s quotation of Isa 42:1–4 in Matt 12:17–21 functions as an appeal
to divine authority which Matthew has paraphrased to place in a new context in order to
bolster the authority behind his characterization of Jesus.
Matthew’s own transformation of Isa 42:1–4 in Matt 12:17–21 fits with the common
practice of paraphrase and appeals to divine testimony found in the ancient world. By
reshaping the known tradition from Isaiah, Matthew is able to rely on the authority behind
Isaiah while also showing his own artistry in reshaping the material to fit its present context
of his Gospel’s characterization of Jesus. With the recognition of Matthew’s paraphrase, the
exclusion of Isa 42:3b–4a no longer relies on needing to find an extant text that omits this
same portion (i.e. positing Matthew’s use of a particular testimonia). Nor does it force one
to guess at the legitimacy behind Matthew’s translation of the text, since paraphrase was
useful for translators as well (Quintilian, Inst. 10.5.1–4). Instead, Matthew utilizes a well-
recognized rhetorical practice to incorporate the divine testimony of Isa 42:1–4, which
shows his facility with Scripture and adds to the authority behind his characterization of
Jesus.
b. Matthew 11–14: Reeds, Kings, and Servants
Having recognized Matthew’s application of paraphrase in his construction of Isa 42:1–4 so
that it will fit his interpretive context, it is now time to determine exactly what that context
is and how Matt 12:17–21 relates to it. As discussed in the history of research portion of
this study, scholars have recently begun noticing the connections between Matt 12:17–21
and the surrounding context of Matt 11–13. Among the motifs mentioned by scholars were
comments on the repeated mention of “spirit,” the repetition of κρίσις, the appearances of
Gentiles, and the possible connections between the rejection of Jesus by the Pharisees in ch.
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12 with the broader theme of rejection found throughout Matt 11–13. Yet, there are other
verbal and thematic clues that point to the connection of Matt 12:17–21 to a broader
context than just Matt 11–13. Indeed, these clues indicate that it is necessary to read Matt
12:17–21 in light of all of Matt 11:2–14:12 in order to get a grasp of how Isa 42:1–4 affects
Matthew’s characterization of Jesus.
The first clue that Matt 12:17–21 is part of a larger context that encompasses all of Matt
11:2–14:12 is the two large sections of material that concentrate on John the Baptist in
11:2–24 and 14:2–12. These two passages function as an inclusio that wraps all of 11:2–
14:12 together. Second, two three-fold repetitions that appear only in Matt 11:2–14:12
reinforce this inclusio. The first is the introductory phrase “in that time” (ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ
καιρῷ) in 11:25, 12:1, and 14:1. The repetition of ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ καιρῷ in 11:25 and
12:1 is often cited as bringing the pericopes of 11:25–30 and 12:1–8 together since they
both center on issues of rest and Sabbath. Matthew’s use of ἐν ἐκείνῳ τῷ καιρῷ in
14:1, however, has remained unnoticed. That this verse should likewise be seen as a
unifying factor in Matt 11–14 is supported by the fact that Matthew repeatedly groups
material together in triads, as W. D. Davies, Dale Allison, and others have noted (cf. 5:21–
7:12; 8:1–9:34; 10:5–42; 13; 18; 24–25). The appearance of the triad in 11:2–14:12
reinforces the inclusio concerning John the Baptist in 11:2–24 and 14:1–12 and offers
sufficient evidence to expand the surrounding context of Matt 12:17–21 from Matt 11–13 to
include 14:1–12 as well.
Third, there are also numerous verbal and thematic clues that strengthen the unity of
Matt 11:2–14:12. In fact, many of these correspond to the repeating words and motifs
scholars have already noticed in Matt 11–13. When we broaden the purview to include
14:1–12, many of these words and motifs—along with some previously unnoticed ones—
continue to surface. Table 1 (overleaf) contains a list of these repeating words and motifs.
Those that appear in italics are those words and motifs that surfaced as a result of
expanding the pericope to include 14:1–12.
Table 1
Words/Motifs Matthew 11:2–24 Matthew 11:25– Matthew 13:1–58 Matthew 14:1–12
12:50
1. Seeing (ὀράω,11:4, 5, 7, 8 (×2),12:2 (×2), 16, 18,13:3, 13 (×2), 14

βλέπω, ἰδού,9, 10, 19 22, 25, 38, 46,(×3), 15 (×3), 16
θεάομαι, 47, 49 (×2), 17 (×3)
ἀναβλέπω,
ὀφθαλμός)
2. Hearing11:2, 4, 5, 15 12:19, 22, 24, 41,13:9, 13 (×2), 14,14:1

(ἀκούω, οὖς) 42 15 (×4), 16 (×2),
17 (×3), 18, 19,
20, 22, 23, 43
3. Judgment11:22, 24 12:18, 20, 36, 41,13:39–43

(κρίσις, 42
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κατακρίνω)
4. Generation11:16 12:39, 41, 42, 45

(γενεά)
5. Identity 11:10 12:23, 24 13:19–23, 55 14:2

statements
(οὗτος)
6. Wanting11:14 12:7, 38, 50 13:28 14:5

(θέλω, θέλημα)
7. Reed11:7 12:20
(κάλαμος)
8. 11:8, 11, 12 12:25 (×2), 26,13:11, 19, 24, 31,14:1–2, 9

Kings/kingdoms 28 33, 38, 41, 43,
(βασιλεύς, 44, 45, 47, 52
βασιλεία)
9. Servant/s 12:18 14:2

(παῖς)
By repeating words and motifs, Matthew encourages his audience to hear the revelation
of Jesus as servant in 12:17–21 not only in light of Matt 11–13, but also in conjunction with
the larger section of material in 11:2–14:12. Without the inclusion of Matt 14:1–12 several
repetitions that contribute to our understanding of Isa 42 in Matt 12 can be overlooked. In
particular, the final three new elements in Table 1—reeds, kings, and servants—have a
radical impact on our interpretation of Matt 12:17–21.
The word κάλαμος is rare for Matthew. In fact, this word only appears a total of five
times in his entire Gospel (11:7; 12:20; 27:29, 30, 48). When looking closely at these five
occurrences, one notices that each of them exhibits connections to kingship. Matthew
27:29, 30 are the clearest examples. In these verses the soldiers who arrested Jesus dress
him up as a king and give him a κάλαμος as a staff (v. 29). This mock coronation turns
violent in v. 30 when these same soldiers take the κάλαμος from Jesus and begin to beat
him with it. In v. 48 Jesus is offered a sponge of sour wine from a κάλαμος near his
death. The proximity of this final use κάλαμος with vv. 29 and 30 encourages the
connection between kingship and κάλαμος to continue—along with the fact that that
Jesus is crucified as the “King of the Jews” (27:11, 29, 37, 42).
David Garland also notices images of kingship in connection with Matthew’s use of
κάλαμος in 11:7. Garland highlights the syntactic parallelism he finds in 11:7–8.
According to Garland, the parallelism equates the “reed being blown about by the wind”
with “a man dressed in soft clothing” who lives in the “houses of kings.” This parallelism is
illustrated below:
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As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John,
A. “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at?
B. A reed being blown about by the wind?
A. What then did you go out to see?
B. A man dressed in soft clothing?
A. “Look, those who wear soft clothing are in the houses of kings.”
Garland suggests that one could deduce that Herod Antipas was the implied target of Jesus’
statement just from these words. Yet, Garland points out that the reference to Herod is made
explicit when one recalls that Herod used the image of a reed on coins he minted in
recognition of his foundation of Tiberias, a city which Herod transformed from a Jewish
graveyard into a Greek polis and established as the capital of Galilee. Not only does
Herod’s presence in 11:2–24 alongside John the Baptist buttress the inclusio of 11:2–24 and
14:2–12, it also contributes to Matthew’s contrast between Jesus and Herod found in this
section of the Gospel. With this jibe, Jesus hints at Herod’s willingness to compromise his
Jewishness for political advancement in the Roman world. Furthermore, Jesus characterizes
Herod’s actions as passive or powerless by describing his clothing as μαλακός, which
carries a connotation of effeminacy along with the meaning of “soft.” As will be
demonstrated below, this suggestion of Herod’s impotence is strengthened throughout the
rest of Matt 11:2–14:12.
According to this pattern of reeds and kings from Matt 11 and 27, one would expect to
see some kingship imagery in Matt 12:20 as well; but no scholar has of yet noticed any
ideas of kingship in that verse. Instead, scholars universally understand the “bruised reed”
alongside the “smoldering wick” as the marginal persons to whom Jesus shows compassion
in his healing ministry (12:15–16). This traditional consensus argues that Jesus heals those
who seem worthless to society, just as he healed the crowd that followed him in 12:15. The
focus on Jesus’ compassionate care for the marginalized is a nice sentiment, and it fits
Jesus’ healing ministry found elsewhere in Matthew (4:23–24; 8:16–17; 9:35; 14:14; 15:30;
19:2). Yet, it ignores other signifiers in the text pointing us in a radically different direction.
First, Matt 12:20 does not say that Jesus heals the “bruised reed” or “smoldering
wick”—it merely records he will not destroy them. At the very most, then, Isa 42 portrays
Jesus as ignoring the plight of these “marginalized” individuals rather than remedying
them. While this could be seen to display some compassion, it is a portrait that is
inconsistent both with the Matthean Jesus’ healing ministry and particularly with his
healing of everyone (ἐθεράπευσεν αὐτοὺς πάντας) who followed him in 12:15!
Second, and even more striking, is the temporal conjunction ἕως (“until”) that appears
right after Matthew’s audience is informed about the servant’s dismissal of the reed and
wick in v. 20. Scholars have consistently ignored the appearance of ἕως in this passage.
They have therefore missed the startling implications it entails. With the use of ἕως the
text reads that the servant will not destroy the reed or wick “until he should bring out
judgment into victory.” The logical implication of this reading is that when the servant
establishes justice, he will then break the reed and put out the wick. If the previous picture
of Jesus ignoring those in need is inconsistent with Matthew’s presentation of Jesus, then
this picture of Jesus destroying the marginalized in the eschaton is diametrically opposed to
Matthew’s portrayal of Jesus elsewhere.
This disturbing problem is solved, however, if one follows Matthew’s pattern of
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connecting kingship imagery to κάλαμος. Acknowledging Matthew’s allusion to Herod
Antipas in 11:7 with his mention of “reed being blown about by the wind” a different
understanding of 12:20 emerges. Matthew’s use of κάλαμος in 12:20, with its close
proximity to 11:7, would conjure up a similar image of Herod in the mind of Matthew’s
audience. Having been “blown about by the wind,” Herod now appears as the “bruised
reed.” Read in this light, therefore, it is the unjust and ineffective earthly king—the
“bruised reed” and “smoldering wick”—that the servant will destroy when he establishes
justice upon the earth.
This reading is strengthened by the entrance of Herod the Tetrarch in ch. 14. As has
already been noted, Matthew connects 14:1–12 to chs. 11–13 with the introductory phrase
“in that time.” He then reinforces this connection with the repetition of motifs found in
Matt 11–13. These motifs include: (1) that Herod “hears a report” but does not understand
who Jesus is, thus bringing back Jesus’ quotation of Isa 6:9 in Matt 13:14 (ἀκοῇ
ἀκούετε καὶ οὐ μὴ συνῆτε); (2) Herod speaks to his “servants” (παισὶν) in 14:2,
resonating with Jesus’ description as the “servant” (παῖς) of God in 12:18; and (3) Herod
is called a king in 14:9, connecting him to the previous discussions of kings and kingdoms
throughout Matt 11–13.
With these links established, Matthew proceeds to paint Herod as an impotent ruler—a
useless “bruised reed” and “smoldering wick”—whose efforts to prevent John the Baptist’s
death in 14:3–12 prove completely futile. Although a “king” (14:9), Herod is tricked by his
daughter and too ashamed to disappoint his guests by refusing the girl’s desire to bring her
the head of John the Baptist (14:9–10). He is therefore forced to execute the Baptizer
against his will. Even more significant is the fact that Herod acknowledges his impotence in
14:2. Matthew tells us that Herod believes Jesus to be John resurrected (14:2). Not even
Herod’s execution of John is effective! As Dorothy Jean Weaver points out, Herod himself
realizes his own limited power and reacts with fear in spite of his powerful political
position.
In contrast, Jesus, a seemingly insignificant man who is repeatedly rejected (11:22–24;
12:14; 13:54–58) and even plotted against (12:14), is shown to have true power. It is Jesus
who pronounces judgments (11:22–24; 12:38–45), who effects healings (12:9–13, 22;
14:14), who triumphs in confrontations with his enemies (12:1–8, 9–13, 22–37), who
miraculously feeds the multitude (14:15–21), and who conquers the raging sea (14:22–33).
With his paraphrased quotation of Isa 42, Matthew informs his audience that even though
Herod Antipas seems to be the one in power, things are not quite what they would seem.
Instead it is Jesus, as the spirit-filled servant, who will eventually crush faltering and
impotent kings to establish God’s justice on earth (12:17–21).
The royal overtones of Matthew’s servant language become even more apparent when
compared to his first-century context. The surrounding literary context of Matt 11–14
emphasizes the political aspects of Matthew’s depiction of Jesus as “servant”; moreover, his
presentation of Jesus through Isa 42 also resonates with language of ideal kinship common
in his Mediterranean milieu.
4. Socio-cultural Context: The Divinely Appointed Servant as the Ideal King

Having unearthed the stark contrast between Jesus and Herod present in Matt 11–14, the
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traditional reading of Matt 12:17–21 has already been radically challenged. Most scholars
believe that Matthew characterizes Jesus as the “unobtrusive” and gentle servant. From the
analysis presented in this study, however, it is argued that Matthew’s version of Isa 42
actually presents Jesus as divinely elected and empowered one sent to replace the
ineffective rule of earthly kings with God’s just reign. While such a description may seem
incongruent with modern notions of servant-hood, it reverberates with overtones of ideal
kingship present in Mediterranean antiquity.
The qualities of an ideal, or good, king was the topic of numerous philosophical treaties
and general writings throughout the Hellenistic period. Surveying these writings, Francis
Cairns highlights twelve characteristics that consistently surface, including justice, a
connection to the divine, and wisdom. Several of these characteristics appear in the writings
of Diotogenes and Philo. In Concerning a Kingdom, Diotogenes emphasizes the connection
between the justice of a king and that of the divine writing, “In judging and in distributing
justice, whether as a whole in Public Law, or to individuals in Private Law, it is right for the
king to act as does God in his leadership and command of the universe.” He continues,
“For the state, made as it is by harmonizing together many different elements, is an
imitation of the order and harmony of the world, while the king who has an absolute
rulership, and is himself Animate Law, has been metamorphosed into a deity among men.”
Likewise emphasizing the special relationship between the king and the divine, Philo
describes Moses as an ideal king whom all people should imitate:
Again, was not the joy of his partnership with the Father and Maker of all
magnified also by the honour of being deemed worthy to bear the same title? For he
was named god and king of the whole nation, and entered, we are told, into the
darkness where God was, that is into the unseen, invisible, incorporeal and
archetypal essence of existing things. Thus he beheld what is hidden from the sight
of mortal nature, and, in himself and his life displayed for all to see, he has set
before us, like some well-wrought picture, a piece of work beautiful and godlike, a
model for those who are willing to copy it. (Vit. Mos. 1.158 [Colson, LCL])
Cairns also notes that an ideal king was the characterized as the generous father and
shepherd of his people. This king also possessed good looks, a love of peace, but great
ability in war.
Of the traits listed by Cairns, however, the most significant for our purposes is that of
the connection between the king and deity. Not only was this connection a source of the
king’s authority, but, as illustrated in the quotations above, it also paved the way for his
sense of justice. Returning again to Diotogenes’ statement above, he describes the king’s
rule over earth as being parallel to the reign of gods over the universe. For this reason, the
ideal king was to have god-like attributes and virtues. Ecphantus describes the king as “the
most divine” man whose “virtues may be considered as works of God,” while Sthenidas the
Locrian writes, “A king should be a wise man; thus will he be honored in the same manner
as the supreme divinity, whose imitator he will be,” and even Philo calls Moses “god and
king.” Finally, as the savior of his people, the ideal king retained the loyalty of his subjects
through love, rather than fear, as the embodiment of the divine will.
In light of such a background, it is not surprising that kings repeatedly emphasized their
connection to the divine. Rome’s first king, Romulus, is figured by Livy as the son of Mars
whose powerful voice could be mistaken for that of Jupiter’s in the heat of battle (Hist. 1.4,
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13, 16). Their second, Numa, firmly linked kingship and religious observance with his
introduction of various religious rites to be performed before entering into battle.
Nevertheless, it was Augustus’ famous title as divi filius (“son of god”) that paved the way
for later emperors to desire divinization even while still in office.
Kings were also considered servants of both the gods and of their people. Jewish
examples of this kind abound in stories of David and Moses, but there are plenty of Greco-
Roman parallels as well. Roman rulers regularly acted as servants of the gods by taking the
office of Pontifex Maximus (Suetonius, Aug. 31), by appointing another to be the Pontifex
Maximus (Livy, Hist. 1.20), or at least by offering numerous tributes to favored deities.
Tiberius conveys the idea of being a servant of the people when he says to the Senate, “I
have always found you to be generous, just, and indulgent masters” (Suetonius, Tib. 29). In
a similar manner, Suetonius informs his audience that Augustus “always felt horrified and
insulted when called ‘My Lord,’ a form of address used by slaves to their owners.” Instead,
Augustus preferred to give this title to the Senators (Aug. 40.5; 53).
As both sons and servants of the divine, ideal kings manifested the will of the gods on
earth by establishing and maintaining justice. Narrowly defined, this meant that ideal kings
often settled disputes between their subjects and administering laws in their domain. Indeed
one of Augustus’ virtues was that he “proved assiduous in his administration of justice”
(Suetonius, Aug. 33). More broadly, though, justice also included the king providing food
or gifts for his people, defending them in war, and, in exceptional cases, even healing them
from various illnesses (Tacitus, Hist. 4.81).
The connections between these expectations of ideal kingship and Matthew’s
presentation of Jesus are unmistakable. As other scholars have repeatedly noticed, Jesus is
frequently characterized as a king in Matthew. The emphasis on Jesus’ royal status begins
in Matthew’s genealogy (1:17) and birth narrative (2:2). It continues through Jesus’ baptism
in 3:17, in which he is anointed with God’s spirit and called God’s Son—an identification
that is repeated in 17:5 and augmented with the “servant” title in 12:18. Jesus accepts the
title “King of the Jews” in Matthew’s passion narrative (27:11) and dies as a political
revolutionary upon the cross (27:29, 37, 42). Matthew finalizes his characterization of Jesus
as king with the victory of the resurrection, after which Jesus is given all authority on
heaven and earth (28:19). Jesus also acts as an ideal king should throughout Matthew’s
Gospel. He acts as a type of law-giver in the Sermon on the Mount (5:1–7:29), frees people
from oppression by healing them of various diseases and releasing them from demonic
possession (4:23–24; 8:2–17, 28–34; 9:2–7, 18–35; 12:9–13, 22; 14:14), and provides for
those who follow him with miraculous supplies of food (12:1–8; 14:15–21).
With his paraphrase of Isa 42 in Matt 12, the Gospel writer reinforces his portrayal of
Jesus as an ideal king by appealing to divine testimony. The designation of Jesus as
“servant” resonates with the fact that ideal kings were to serve the gods and the people.
This service is reinforced as Isa 42 goes on to offer a description of Jesus as the one who
pleases God’s will, the one in whom God’s Spirit rests, and the one who will establish
God’s justice. According to Matthew, where kings and other earthly rulers have failed in the
past, Jesus will succeed as the hope for the nations (12:21).
5. Conclusion
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In the course of this the present study Matthew’s appeal to Isaiah in light of Matt 11–14 and
the rhetorical/socio-cultural contexts of the first century have been investigated. All of these
contexts contribute to challenging the traditional reading of Matt 12:17–21 found before
and after the advent of Hooker’s study. On this reading, Matthew’s characterization of Jesus
as both Son and Servant contributes to his larger portrayal of Jesus as the ideal king. By
recognizing Matthew’s use of the rhetorical technique of paraphrase one sees how Matthew
shaped his quotation of Isa 42 in order to fit the Gospel context to act as divine testimony in
support of his characterization of Jesus. Moreover, expanding the scope to include
connections from all of Matt 11–14 uncovers Matthew’s consistent linking of κάλαμος
and kingship here and throughout his Gospel. This realization finally makes sense of the
temporal conjunction ἕως in 12:19, thereby drastically changing the prophecy from a
message of compassion for the marginalized to a pronouncement of coming judgment
against an impotent king. Finally, the brief survey of ideal kingship in Mediterranean
antiquity illustrates how identifying Jesus as God’s chosen servant resonates with political
propaganda of his milieu. Matthew makes use of Isa 42 and the language of his time to
characterize Jesus as God’s divinely appointed king who is sent to establish God’s will and
justice.
Such a reading allows Matthew’s text to define his use of servant imagery with an ear
open to his socio-cultural context. In this way, one stays clear of importing any type of
attachment or aversion to the concept of Isaianic “Servant Songs.” Moreover, the
significant contribution Isa 42 makes to Matthew’s overall characterization of Jesus as ideal
king is finally made plain. For Matthew, Isa 42 does not present Jesus as a vicarious
sufferer or an unobtrusive servant. Instead, this Scripture reference boldly announces Jesus’
divinely inspired and highly confrontational mission to replace earthly kingdoms with the
Kingdom of Heaven.
BLOOD AND SECRETS: THE RE-TELLING OF GENESIS 1–6 IN

1 ENOCH 6–11 AND ITS ECHOES IN SUSANNA AND THE
GOSPEL OF MATTHEW
Catherine Sider Hamilton
Introduction
At the climactic moment of Jesus’ trial, the Gospel of Matthew describes the death of Jesus
in the stark language of bloodshed. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” Pilate says, and the
people respond, “His blood be upon us and upon our children” (Matt 27:24–25).
This interchange has been the focal point for a long history of scholarly analysis of
Matthew’s relation to early Judaism. The majority of commentators read in it a
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condemnation of Judaism and, indeed, the roots of a long and brutal history of Christian
anti-Semitism: in thus “heaping guilt upon the Jews” Matthew seems to reveal a disturbing
anti-Judaism that will come to facilitate later violence and hostility against the Jewish
people. In this reading (in its current version), the scene is taken to be an historical
reconstruction (“a hostile fiction,” F. W. Beare calls it), reflecting Matthew’s own situation
vis-à-vis the contemporary Jewish community: the words arise out of and reflect tension,
even hostility and division between the Jewish community and Matthew’s emerging
Christian community, though scholars differ as to degree of separation between
communities.
I propose a different interpretive template, one that in looking to Matthew’s inherited
background of images discovers the Gospel to be structured by an early-Jewish imaginative
world, thus calling into question the charge of anti-Judaism and at the same time enriching
our understanding of the Gospel. For the most obvious context for these words is not
simply historical, but scriptural and traditional. Pilate’s words echo almost verbatim the
words of Daniel at the climax of Susanna, as the innocent and righteous woman is
condemned to death: καθαρὸς ἐγὼ ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος ταύτης (Sus θ 46). Indeed,
Matthew’s passion narrative imitates the story of Susanna in key particulars; to hold the two
stories together is to discern a narrative of innocent blood as it appears in its essential
contours in Matthew. These two works, in their turn, reflect as a key element of the
narrative—and precisely in regard to the problem of innocent blood—the story of rebel
angels and rampaging giants and blood poured out upon the ground as told in 1 En. 6–11.
To trace the interrelationship of these three narratives with regard to the problem of
innocent blood is to discover a world shaped not just by historical event or situation, but
also by a tradition of reflection that begins from Scripture—with the retelling of Genesis in
1 Enoch—and that is, as a reflection on scripture, authoritative. It is to discover that the
world of 1 Enoch, and of Susanna in its turn, is constitutive of the world for Matthew. This
scriptural world, this tradition of reflection on scripture—and not simply a historical
situation—illuminates the interchange between Pilate and the people in Matt 27:24–25. To
explore the world of innocent blood in 1 Enoch and in Susanna is to find the Matthean
passion narrative taking its place in an early Jewish interpretive context. It is to find an
intricate and intimate relationship between Jewish texts and traditions of interpretation and
Matthew’s story of Jesus—so that the stark divisions implied in such categories as “anti-
Jewish” lose their heuristic value.
1. 1 Enoch and Genesis

1 Enoch 6–11 is typically read as a re-telling of Gen 6 and the story of the flood through the
Shemihazah and Azael myths. Indeed, in 1 Enoch’s story of the corruption that brings on
the flood, scholars stress the lack of reference to Genesis’ larger narrative about sin—Eve
and the serpent, Cain and Abel; the humanness of evil. In his magisterial commentary on 1
Enoch, George Nickelsburg writes, “Because they do not recapitulate the whole of
primordial history (with the exception of the Animal Vision), the Enochic writings all but
ignore the Eden story and thus identify the Watchers as the source of all substantial evil.”
This view of 1 Enoch holds both for those, like Devorah Dimant, who read 1 En. 6–11 as an
“ancient Biblical expansion” of Gen 6, an instance of re-written Bible, and for those who,
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with Gabriele Boccaccini, see it instead as divergent from Genesis, even opposed to
Genesis (though incorporating the story of the flood), so that the term “re-written Bible” is
inappropriate. In both cases, commentators hold that it is only Gen 6:1–4, with its cryptic
mention of the “sons of God who saw the daughters of men” (Gen 6:3) and the flood
narrative that follows on, which 1 En. 6–11 reflects.
The interpretive consequences of this reading of 1 Enoch are significant, ranging from
the discovery in 1 Enoch of a unique (and antipentateuchal) understanding of evil to the
discovery of a sectarian priestly group behind it. That 1 En. 6–11 focuses on the rebel
angels and the flood to the exclusion of Genesis’ larger narrative about sin points, for many
scholars, to a basic dichotomy between pentateuchal traditions about sin and evil and
Enochic ones. 1 Enoch, Paul Hanson writes, insists on a cosmogonic explanation of sin and
evil that is, in its dualism, “quite alien to any of the levels of pentateuchal tradition in
Genesis.” Gabriele Boccaccini, similarly, finds at the core of 1 Enoch (and, indeed, of the
whole apocalyptic tradition) a distinctive conception of evil: evil as “an autonomous reality,
antecedent even to humankind’s ability to choose,” originating with and centred in the rebel
angels. Andreas Bedenbender, following Boccaccini, draws a socio-historical conclusion:
behind 1 En. 6–11 is a displaced Levitical group that is hostile to the Zadokite priestly
establishment and therefore hostile to Genesis as Zadokite-controlled Scripture. The
implications of seeing in 1 En. 6–11 a reading only of Gen 6 (or 6–9) are therefore far-
reaching: in this story we find a new and dualistic concept of evil, a rejection of Genesis as
Scripture, and a sectarian priestly group.
In this section I argue, first, that the majority reading of 1 Enoch (that sees in 1 En. 6–
11 a reading only of Gen 6) may be fruitfully expanded to include Genesis’ larger story of
sin in Gen 1–4. This expanded reading, in turn, points toward a more nuanced
understanding of 1 Enoch’s theology and social situation. First: contrary to consensus, 1
En. 6–11 does not jettison the early chapters of Genesis in its re-telling of the Flood story. 1
Enoch is a complex piece of biblical exegesis. It reads Gen 6 through the lens not only of
the Shemihazah/Azael myths, but also through Gen 1–4, finding in the particular words of
Gen 6–9 pointers back to creation, to Eve, to Cain and his bloody deed, pointers to tales of
primordial rebellion and bloodshed that illuminate, for the authors of 1 En. 6–11, the flood
story and shape the story of the rebel angels. Fruitfulness, for good or ill, frames the story,
and blood and the secret knowledge of the gods are the problems that drive the narrative to
its crisis.
Second, to see the echoes of Genesis’ story of sin in 1 En. 6–11 is to see, further, two
things. While it is true that 1 Enoch does not simply reiterate but interprets and expands
upon Genesis, the import of that re-telling is consonant with the import of Genesis rather
than opposed to it. This is the case even regarding 1 Enoch’s treatment of evil. In 1 En. 6–
11 evil has the shape that it has in Gen 1–6: the plot moves, as I will demonstrate, from the
fruitfulness of creation to rebellion and the illicit knowledge of the gods, to bloody
offspring and an earth that cries out to heaven. If 1 Enoch makes of this a cosmic drama in
which angels as well as human beings play a part, it is nevertheless the drama of Genesis
that the whole cosmos enacts. Far from overturning Genesis’ story of the beginning of evil
on earth so as to offer an alternative aetiology of evil, 1 Enoch looks to Gen 3 and the story
of Eve and the serpent, and Gen 4 and the story of Cain, to understand how it is that the
desire of the sons of God for the daughters of men in Gen 6 should lead to devastation and
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flood.
Finally, the shaping influence of Genesis’ primordial history on 1 Enoch suggests the
following conclusion: the dichotomy drawn between pentateuchal traditions and
communities and Enochic ones does not reflect accurately 1 Enoch’s own use of Genesis. If
the reading of Genesis in 1 En. 6–11 is a pointer to the historical situation out of which the
Enoch traditions emerged, as scholars like Hanson and Boccaccini indicate, then a revised
understanding of the role that Genesis plays in 1 Enoch must lead to a revised
understanding of the tradition that 1 En. 6–11 represents. The pervasive influence on 1
Enoch of Genesis’ own story of sin and evil points to a theological and social situation
more complex and less clearly demarcated than we have imagined.
a. Creation and New Creation: Genesis 1 in 1 Enoch 6–11
1 Enoch’s use of the primordial history in Gen 1–6 is thorough-going. Most strikingly, 1
Enoch shapes its story of the rebel angels by means of two motifs from Gen 3 and 4:
women and the secret knowledge of the gods, and the blood of human beings that cries out
from the earth. In addition, and more subtly, it frames the whole as Gen 1–9 is framed, with
the “multiplying” that marks creation and new creation. Taken together, all three motifs
create a powerful, and fresh, evocation of and reflection upon Genesis.
We begin with the least obvious echo. The story of the rebel angels takes up and
expands the parallel drawn in the Genesis flood story between creation and new creation, in
the time after the flood. The Watchers’ drama begins with a near-quotation of Gen 6:1: “and
it happened that when the sons of men multiplied, in those days beautiful and comely
daughters were born to them” (1 En. 6:1). The word “multiplied” (ἐπληθύνθησαν CP
and Sync) here is significant. Genesis 6:1 MT reads: “and it happened, when humankind
began to become many upon the face of the earth …” ( ‫ויהי כי־החל האדם לרב‬
‫)על־פני האדמה‬. The LXX renders this literally, word-for-word: καὶ ἐγένετο ἡνίκα
ἤρχαντο οἱ ἄνθρωποι πολλοὶ γίνεσθαι ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς … 1 Enoch, however, reads
“when the sons of men multiplied” (ἐπληθύνθησαν, in the Greek) instead of “began to
become many.”
This word picks up a correspondence between the multiplying of humans on the earth in
the days of the flood and the multiplying of humans on the earth in the days of creation.
When God creates humankind he says to them, as he has already said to the fish of the sea
and the birds of the air, “Be fruitful and multiply …” ( ‫ פרו ורבו‬MT; αὐξάνεσθε καὶ
πληθύνεσθε … LXX; Gen 1:28 cf. 1:22). In insisting on the word “multiply” at 6:1, 1
Enoch insists (against the LXX) on a precise echo of the creation story here at the beginning
of its story of the distortion of creation.
It is an echo already present in the larger Genesis flood story. Genesis 9 describes the
time after the flood as the time of new creation. When the waters have finally receded and
the olive begins again to put forth leaves, God tells Noah to bring out of the ark onto the
dry land “every living thing with you of all flesh, birds and animals and every creeping
thing that creeps on the earth, so that they may abound on the earth, and be fruitful and
multiply on the earth” (8:17: ‫ ופרו ורבו על־הארץ‬MT; καὶ αὐξάνεσθε καὶ
πληθύνεσθε ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς LXX). Several verses later, God blesses Noah with the same
words: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth” (9:1: ‫פרו ורבו ומלאו‬
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‫את־הארץ‬ MT; αὐξάνεσθε καὶ πληθύνεσθε καὶ πληρώσατε τὴν γῆν …
LXX). In the creation narrative, God utters the same two-fold command (Gen 1:22, 28). The
flood story, as commentators note, names the story of the waters that cover the earth to
wipe out all life, and the dry land and olive leaf and new life that emerges, a story of new
creation: first the return to primordial chaos, and then the dry land and creature and
possibility of fruitfulness.
In taking up from Gen 9 the word “multiply” (‫ רבה‬/ πληθύνω), in contrast to the
LXX’s “began to become many” (ἄρχομαι πολλοὶ γίνεσθαι, rendering ‫רבב‬, Gen 6:1),
1 Enoch, in the Greek, emphasizes the parallel with the creation story that Gen 9 proposes.
1 Enoch’s πληθύνω attaches these days, when the sons of heaven look upon the daughters
of men with disastrous consequences, to the days of creation when God created fish and
bird and human being, male and female, to be fruitful and multiply. And, like Gen 9, it sees
in the story’s end—after the devastation, after the flood, after the tragic battle of giants and
the punishment of rebel angels—a story of new creation. Now all the righteous multiply in
years and offspring (1 En. 10:17); the earth is planted with trees and vines and worked in
righteousness (1 En. 10:18–19) and yields abundant fruit (1 En. 10:19).
As these images reveal, 1 Enoch takes the image of new creation further than does Gen
9. Its description of the new creation makes use both of Genesis’ own creation story and of
the prophetic tradition of reflection upon creation in relation to God’s final restoration of
the land. Reading Gen 9 through the eschatological vision of Isa 65 (with reminiscences
also of Ps 85:11, Zech 8:12 and Ezek 36:29–30, 35—the restored land being explicitly
likened, in Ezekiel, to the garden of Eden), 1 En. 10 describes the time after the flood as a
time not just of new creation, but one in which the blessings of creation are multiplied
exponentially. Now “the righteous” shall not simply be fruitful (as in Gen 9), but “they
shall live until they bear thousands” and fulfill all their days in peace (1 En. 10:17; cf. Isa
65:20–22). The earth, too, will produce a thousandfold: for every vine, 1000 jugs of wine;
for every measure of seed, 1000 measures, for every measure of olives, 10 of oil (1 En.
10:19).
Note that, in contrast to Gen 9 and Isa 65:21, it is not simply vines that are planted here,
but also trees and seed—the elements of the first creation (Gen 1:11–12). So, too, in
Ezekiel and in Zechariah: in the day of the land’s restoration the blessing of fruitfulness
proper to creation is restored. “I will make the fruit of the tree and the produce of the field
abundant; … And they will say, ‘This land that was desolate has become like the garden of
Eden …’ ” (Ezek 36:30, 35; cf. Zech 8:12; compare in Zech 8:12 the connection between
fruitfulness and peace that is essential to 1 En. 10). And as Ezekiel’s trees thrive in the day
of the Temple’s restoration, so in 1 Enoch “all the trees of the earth are glad” (1 En. 10:19;
cf. Ezek 47:12). 1 Enoch takes up the suggestion of new creation in Gen 9 and expands
upon it, in the tradition of the eschatological hope of the prophets, and with an eye to Gen
1. Long life and offspring and the fruitfulness of every tree bearing seed belong to the time
of restoration in 1 En. 10 and in the prophets, as they belonged to the garden in the time of
the first creation.
The Greek, indeed, emphasizes the echo in 1 En. 10 of the Genesis creation story:
“Then the whole earth will be worked in righteousness and a tree will be planted on it, and
it will be filled with blessing” (CP 10:18, cf. Gen 2:9). Like the first garden, this one too
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has a tree which shall, this time, be a blessing. All this goes beyond Gen 9 and its reflection
on the time after the flood as new creation. The command to fruitfulness that is central to
the story of creation here frames the story of the Watchers and the women, acted out at its
beginning for evil and at its end for good. Thus 1 En. 6–11 as a whole unfolds within the
contours of Genesis, as a story about the distortion of creation and its restoration.
The final form of the Book of the Watchers underlines the way in which 1 En. 6–11 is
told as a story about Edenic fruitfulness both frustrated and fulfilled. At the very end of 1
En. 5, immediately before 6:1, there is a vision of eschatological blessing for the chosen. It
ends with the same increase of life and joy imagined in 1 En. 10: “but the number of the
days of their life they shall fulfill, and their life will increase (Grk αὐξηθήσεται) in
peace, and the years of their joy will be multiplied (πληθυνθήσεται) in gladness and
eternal peace in all the days of their life” (1 En. 5:9). “Be fruitful and multiply,”
αὐξάνεσθε καὶ πληθύνεσθε (Gen 9:1; cf. 1:22, 28), rings in the background, as the
story of the Watchers and the women begins.
b. The Knowledge of the Gods: Genesis 3 and 1 Enoch 6–11
If 1 En. 6–11 is a story shaped by the creation narrative in Gen 1, it is also one that
incorporates the story of sin in Gen 3. That 1 Enoch’s tale of Shemihazah and Asael has
anything to do with Adam and Eve and the forbidden fruit is anathema to commentators. As
VanderKam has said, “The relative amount of space given to the Genesis account (no
mention) and the Watcher story (virtually more than any other episode) underscores the fact
that in the Enoch tradition Gen 6:1–4, not Gen 3, was the primary narrative about sin.”
Boccaccini and others, as we have seen, read 1 Enoch as a rejection of the Gen 3 narrative
about sin in favour of a different aetiology of evil and theology of sin.
1 Enoch 6:1 begins, however, with a verbal echo of Gen 3. In the days of the first
creation, when the sons of men had multiplied, there were born to them (1 Enoch’s story
goes) daughters beautiful and fair (ὡραῖαι καὶ καλαί, Grk). Here 1 En. 6:1 compresses
Gen 6:1–2: “When humankind began to multiply upon the face of the earth, daughters were
born to them. And the sons of the gods (God, LXX) saw the daughters of humans, that they
were fair (‫ טבת‬MT; καλαί LXX). But it uses two adjectives to describe the women.
VanderKam deems the change noteworthy; its purpose, he suggests, is to highlight “the
physical, lustful side of the angels’ action.” Ryszard Rubinkiewicz, however, has pointed
out that these are precisely the adjectives used to describe the tree of the knowledge of good
and evil in Gen 3:6. There the woman sees that the tree is good ( ‫ טוב‬MT; καλόν LXX) for
food and pleasant (‫ ;תאוה‬ἀρεστόν) to the eyes and desirable (‫ ;נחמד‬ὡραῖον) to
make one wise.
Is this correlation coincidence, or is Rubinkiewicz right to see here an echo of Gen 3? 1
Enoch correlates the story of the rebel angels with the story of the fruit in other ways also.
1 Enoch adds to its paraphrase of Gen 6 two things missing from Gen 6 but present in Gen
3: the element of desire, and the partnership in crime. 1 Enoch 6:2 reads, “And the angels,
the sons of heaven, saw them and desired them, and said to each other, ‘Come, let us
choose for ourselves wives.…’ ” This follows in part Gen 6:2: the sons of God see that
women are fair and take wives of all they choose. But it follows also Gen 3 in stressing the
element of desire. In Gen 3:6, the woman sees fruit, sees that it is to be desired, and
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therefore takes it. Further, Eve does not eat alone: she gives the fruit “to her husband with
her, and he ate” (3:6; LXX “they ate,” ἔφαγον, emphasizes the joint nature of the deed).
The following verse underlines their partnership in the deed: “and the eyes of both ( ‫עיני‬
‫ שניהם‬MT; οἱ ὀφθαλμοὶ τῶν δύο LXX) were opened” (Gen 3:7). In 1 Enoch, the
Watchers emphatically draw each other into their act: “Come, let us choose for ourselves
wives …” and, when Shemihazah fears lest the others should back out and he alone (ἐγὼ
μόνος 6:3) “shall be guilty of a great sin,” they swear an oath “all together” (πάντες
ὁμοῦ) and bind each other with a curse. None of this is in Gen 6; the elements both of
shared guilt and of desire are in Gen 3.
This kind of close correlation between the texts of Gen 3:6 and 1 En. 6:1–2 finds a
parallel in a broad thematic correlation between the two stories. 1 Enoch 6–11 takes up
themes that are fundamental to Gen 3 but absent from Gen 6. The first is the theme of
rebellion associated with distorted sexuality, with terrible consequences for the earth. From
the outset it is clear that the desire of the sons of heaven for the daughters of men is a thing
the Watchers ought not to do. Shemihazah calls it a “great sin” and is afraid the others will
not wish to do “this deed” (1 En. 6:3). The danger of this mingling of human and heavenly
is implied in Gen 6: God immediately limits the length of human life as a result, and the
descent of the sons of God to the daughters of men stands back to back with the wickedness
that multiplies upon the earth. 1 Enoch, however, goes beyond Gen 6 in making the descent
of the angels a conscious act of rebellion: they know it is something they ought not to do,
and they do it anyway, driven by desire for the beautiful and comely women. The
consequence of this rebellion is disastrous for angel and human alike. The angels “defile
themselves” by going in to the women; their issue is monstrous, giants who devour first the
labour of humans and then humans and finally even each other, who sin against bird and
beast and creeping thing and fish and who drink blood (1 En. 7:2–5). They fill the earth
with blood and injustice (9:9). The angelic rebellion, as God says in his indictment of them,
this desire for human women, has desolated the earth (10:7, 14, Grk).
This complex of ideas—rebellion, distorted sexuality, a stricken earth—governs also
Gen 3. The woman knows that she ought not to eat the fruit: “God said, ‘You shall not
eat’ ” from it, she reports to the serpent (Gen 3:3). Seeing, however, at the serpent’s
suggestion that the tree is good and beautiful and desirable to make one wise, she takes
from its fruit anyway. Like the angels’ “taking” of the women, her “taking” of the fruit is an
act of rebellion. Its consequence is, in the first place, a disruption of the sexual harmony
that has formerly marked the relationship between the man and the woman: the unabashed
nakedness which marked their “cleaving” in Gen 2:24–25 becomes to them in 3:7, 10
something to be hidden; God says to the woman, “in pain you shall bring forth children, yet
your desire shall be for your husband and he shall rule over you.” Helpmate becomes
subject, and bearing children causes pain. For the man, the consequence of taking the fruit
is an earth no longer lush but thorny; instead of a garden, a field of pain: “cursed is the
ground because of you; in toil (LXX ‘in pain’) you shall eat of it all the days of your life;
thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you …” (Gen 3:17–18). In both 1 Enoch and Gen
3, then, there is a taking that is an act of rebellion, resulting in a distorted sexuality and an
earth made desolate.
David Suter noticed a broad parallelism between 1 En. 6–11 and Gen 3 some time ago.
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The myth of the fallen angels, he suggests, is “structurally similar” to the Adam myth.
These are in his view independent but parallel stories about evil: “the two myths are thus
more or less redundant: they communicate a similar message about the presence of evil in
the world.” I would go further: 1 Enoch is not just a parallel myth running alongside the
Adamic myth and making a similar point, but a deliberate and close reading of the Adam
story, and indeed of Gen 1–6.
A second large thematic parallel, crucial to both stories (and noted also by Suter), points
still more decisively to the link between Gen 3 and 1 En. 6–11. Together with the problem
of rebellion and distorted sexuality and the desolated earth, 1 Enoch introduces the problem
of the knowledge of the gods, illicitly revealed. Scholars have for years been exercised over
the shape of the story-line in 1 En. 6–11, precisely because these two motifs are intertwined
in it. The narrative of angelic rebellion which begins with Shemihazah and the desire for
human women and the gigantic offspring that result is, they say, “interrupted” by a second
narrative. This one is about Asael and the teaching of heavenly secrets to the daughters of
men; it disrupts the flow of the narrative, for instance at 7:1–2. There the angels begin to go
in to the women (7:1), but before the women “conceive in the womb and bear great giants”
(7:2), we hear that the angels “began to teach them sorcery and charms and to reveal to
them the cutting of roots and plants” (7:1). Here and in 9:8, Nickelsburg says, the “motif of
instruction is secondary … [I]t intrudes between action and result, that is, intercourse and
conception.” Nickelsburg separates the two strands—so all the material about instruction is
secondary to the original Shemihazah narrative and does not belong there; it appears
without warning and has no function or consequence in the Shemihazah story.
Nickelsburg’s detailed study of the logic of the Shemihazah and Asael narratives taken
separately may indeed indicate that there were originally two distinct traditions that were
combined in 1 En. 6–11. But the question surely is why these traditions, if they were
originally separate, were combined in 1 En. 6–11 in this way. Why bring together the motif
of instruction—the illicit knowledge of the gods—and the motif of rebellion and sex and
bloody offspring?
The answer, I suggest, lies close at hand. There is already a story in which rebellion and
sex and bloody offspring, on the one hand, and the secret knowledge of the gods, on the
other, come together with disastrous effect. In the garden, the serpent says to Eve, “You will
not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be
like gods (or God), knowing good and evil” (Gen 3:4–5). It is, after all, the tree of the
knowledge of good and evil with which we have to do in the Garden of Eden. Genesis 3
names it the knowledge of the gods; when Adam and Eve take from it, their eyes are
opened. Likewise, 1 Enoch moves from the taking of the women directly to the impartation
of heavenly knowledge. From this perspective—that of the logic of the Genesis story—the
teaching of divine secrets in 7:1 does not interrupt the flow of the narrative, but belongs
there. It is the necessary first consequence of the act of rebellion and its main point; the
bearing of bloody children follows. From this perspective, too, the way in which God’s
indictment of the rebel angels in 1 En. 10 highlights Asael and the instruction motif follows
from the logic of the story: the revelation of divine knowledge is the problem at the heart of
the story, in Gen 3 and in 1 Enoch. It is not that the Shemihazah narrative gives way in the
divine indictment to the now more prominent Asael tradition. It is that the revelation of the
knowledge of the gods in this way undergirds the story of rebellion and its consequences as
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a whole. If we allow the shape of 1 En. 6–11, in its final form, to govern our reading, this is
what we find: not a story in which the theme of divine secrets is secondarily and awkwardly
added to the theme of illicit desire and bloody offspring, but one in which from the
beginning both are intertwined: the twin consequences of rebellion, the twin causes of the
earth’s desolation, with the secret knowledge of the gods coming at beginning and end and
encompassing the whole.
John Collins has suggested, in response to Nickelsburg’s and Hanson’s debate about the
sources of the Shemihazah and Asael myths, that the source-critical argument is
tendentious, based as it is on an insistence on a “doctrinal clarity and economy of
expression” in an ancient narrative that may be foreign to its nature. His conclusion is as
follows:
while there are no doubt distinct traditions identifiable in 1 En. 6–11, the only
version we have [of the Shemihazah tradition] is combined with the Asael material,
and I see no compelling evidence that the story isolated by the excision of the Asael
material ever circulated in precisely that form. So I would argue that we cannot
purposefully discuss the meaning and function of the Shemihazah story apart from
the Asael material.
The narrative’s two parts, that is, belong together. To understand the story, it is necessary to
read it as a whole. It is, I propose, the shape of the Genesis narrative, in which the
knowledge of the gods is tied to the forbidden “taking,” for the desolation of the earth,
which offers an explanation for the intertwining of these themes in 1 En. 6–11.
The story of rebellion in heaven reveals, thus, an intricate intertwining with the story of
rebellion in the garden. 1 Enoch 6 opens with a verbal echo of Gen 3; it continues with a
story of desire-driven disobedience, distorted sexuality and a desolated earth that follows
the contours of the story of human disobedience and the cursing of the earth in Gen 3.
Further, the taking of the women leads to a revelation of heavenly secrets that parallels the
knowledge that follows from Eve’s taking of the fruit, a knowledge of good and evil that
makes one like gods.
c. Cain and Abel, and the Blood that Cries Out from the Ground: Genesis 4 and 1 Enoch
6–11
This motif, the secret knowledge of the gods, is one of two major motifs describing the
results on earth of the angels’ deed. The second is that of violent giant offspring, and the
bloodying of the earth. This motif, too, finds a parallel in Genesis. Adam and Eve’s issue in
the time after the taking of the fruit is a son, Cain, and his brother Abel. Cain famously and
immediately kills Abel. When Cain pretends innocence (or at least ignorance), God says,
“What have you done? Listen: your brother’s blood is crying out to me from the ground”
(Gen 4:10). Cain, God continues, is cursed “from the ground which has opened its mouth to
receive your brother’s blood from your hand” (Gen 4:11).
The same blood-stained ground, and the earth that cries out to heaven, appear in 1 En.
6–11. In 1 Enoch, as in Gen 4, the first act of the offspring of rebellion is murder, with an
emphasis on blood: the giant offspring of the watchers and the women devour all life on
earth, “and they drank blood” 1 En. 6:5 concludes. In response, the earth cries out: “Then
the earth made accusation against the lawless ones” (1 En. 6:6). The accusation of the earth
recurs twice more, at 8:4 and 9:1–2, in a kind of refrain. At 8:4, after the teaching of
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warfare and self-ornamentation, when humans have gone astray and been made desolate in
all their ways, “while people were perishing, the cry went up to heaven.” “Cry,” here, is
nicely ambiguous, encompassing both the cry of the dying, and the accusation of the earth
on which they perish. 1 Enoch 9:1–3 brings both elements together. The archangels looking
down from heaven see “much blood being poured out upon the earth.” They say to each
other, “The voice of those crying out upon the earth (comes up) to the gates of heaven.
People’s souls make accusation, saying, ‘Bring our suit to the Most High’ ” (9:1–3). The
clamour at the gates of heaven comes from a bloodied earth and the restless souls of those
who have died upon it.
This image—the blood-stained earth crying out to heaven with the voice of those who
have been killed upon it—comes straight from Gen 4:10. There the blood of Abel cries out,
and cries out from the ground which has opened its mouth to swallow it. Indeed, 1 En. 9:1–
2 (as the Greek texts clearly indicate) uses the same words as Gen 4:10. In Gen 4:10 it is
the voice (‫ קול‬MT; φωνή LXX) of the blood (‫ ;דמי‬αἵματος) of the brother that cries
out (‫ ;צעקים‬βοᾷ) to God (‫ ;אלי‬πρός με) from the ground (‫ ;מן־האדמה‬ἐκ τῆς
γῆς). In 1 En. 9:1–2, much blood (αἷμα πολύ) has been poured out on the ground (ἐπὶ
τῆς γῆς); hence the voice (φωνή) of those who cry out (βοώντων) upon earth (ἐπὶ
τῆς γῆς) reaches to heaven (and so to God). Nickelsburg suggests an allusion to Gen 4:10
here, yet it is not just an allusion. Genesis 4:10 supplies not only the passage’s conceptual
framework but also the words themselves.
The link here to Gen 4:10 comes by way of careful exegesis of Gen 9:4–6. In Gen 9:4,
as Nickelsburg notes, blood is equated with life (or “soul,” ‫ ;נפש‬ψυχή Gen 9:4); hence
the connection between blood and souls that cry out in 1 En. 9:1–3. But the connection is
much closer than this: 1 Enoch sees in Gen 9:4–6 a reference to the story of brother’s blood
poured out and requiring a reckoning, the story of Cain and Abel. In Gen 9:5,
shedding/pouring out (‫ ;שפך‬ἐκχέω) a brother’s blood (‫ )דם איש אחיו‬brings down
God’s reckoning (Gen 9:5). 1 Enoch describes the slaughter of humans as “blood poured
out” (= “shed”: αἷμα πολὺ ἐκχυννόμενον, 1 En. 9:4, 6); blood that requires a
reckoning, and attaches it to the story of brother’s blood poured out upon the earth, blood
that cries out from the earth to heaven, in Gen 4:10. Cain’s act of bloodshed, that is, serves
to describe the violence that in Gen 6:11 corrupts the earth: now that violence becomes,
specifically and graphically, blood poured out.
The story of Cain and Abel thus underlies and informs the story of the Watchers’
gigantic offspring that springs from Gen 6:1–4, and makes sense of its focus on blood.
There is, in Gen 6, no mention of bloodshed in relation to the Nephilim—the text is neutral,
perhaps even positive, in regard to them: they are “heroes,” “warriors of renown” (in the
NRSV translation), known in Numbers as giants (Num 13:32–33). In 1 Enoch they have
become rampaging monsters, sinning against the earth’s creatures, filling the earth with
blood until the earth and those slaughtered upon it cry out alike to heaven. Nor in Gen 6 is
there any mention of blood in relation to the flood: there it is simply wickedness ( ,‫רעה‬
‫;רע‬ κακίαι, Gen 6:5) and violence (‫ ;חמס‬ἀδικία, Gen 6:11) that fill the earth and
corrupt it. The exegetical key to this transformation is Gen 4:10, and the sin of Cain, and
the blood of Abel crying out from the ground. Now the problem that corrupts the earth and
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brings down upon it the waters of the flood is bloodshed, an earth awash in the blood of the
murdered, and crying out to heaven for cleansing. As the archangels say to God, “And the
women bore giants, by whom the whole earth was filled with blood and oppression”
(αἵματος καὶ ἀδικίας, 1 En. 9:9 CP and Eth): the oppression (ἀδικία, cf. Gen 6:11
LXX) that fills the earth and cries out for recompense (1 En. 9:10) is the blood of the
innocent dead.
The connection 1 Enoch makes here between the blood shed by the giants and the blood
shed by Cain illuminates a striking feature of 1 Enoch’s characterization of the flood: it
comes not only to destroy but also to cleanse. “Cleanse the earth (God says to the angel
Michael) from all impurity and from all oppression (ἀδικία CP) and from all sin and
impiety and remove all uncleanness that has come to pass on the earth” (1 En. 9:20). This
emphasis on the flood as cleansing goes beyond Gen 9; Hartman notes it, and notes that
though it is a small step from destroying evil from the earth to cleansing the earth, it is
nevertheless a step which “has seldom been taken in ancient Judaism.” It is precisely in the
connection between the flood and the blood poured out upon the earth, in 1 Enoch’s reading
of the flood story through the story of Cain and Abel, that the characterization of the flood
as cleansing makes sense. Read through the story of the brother’s blood that cries out from
the ground, the story of the flood becomes the story of an earth stained by blood. Therefore,
in the tradition of the Scriptures of Israel, it is an earth polluted and in need of cleansing.
Already in Gen 4 the connection between blood and the pollution of the earth is hinted.
Abel’s blood cries out restlessly from the ground; God says to Cain, “And now you are
cursed from the ground, which has opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood from
your hand.” The earth thus bloodied is barren: “when you till the ground, it will no longer
yield to you its strength.” Cain, in fact, is cast out from the ground on which he has poured
out his brother’s blood: “you will be a fugitive and wanderer on the earth” (Gen 4:11–12).
This sequence—blood poured out on the ground, earth made barren, earth casting out its
inhabitants—points toward a long tradition of reflection in the Hebrew Scriptures on the
problem of bloodshed and its devastating effect on the land. Innocent blood ( ‫—דם נקי‬
murder, wrongful death both private and judicial) pollutes the land. So in Numbers God
declares, in a discussion of the penalty for murder: “You shall not pollute the land in which
you live; for blood pollutes the land, and no expiation can be made for the land, for the
blood that is shed in it, except by the blood of the one who shed it. You shall not defile the
land in which you live, in which I also dwell” (35:33–34). Un-expiated blood renders the
land barren (cf. Gen 4:12 and 2 Sam 21:1; Ezek 36:17–18); the blood of the innocent
poured out upon the ground brings disaster upon the whole people’s head (cf. Deut 19:10–
13). Indeed, the land defiled by blood will, like the earth in Gen 4, vomit out its inhabitants
(cf. Lev 18:25–28). Hence the land must be purged (Deut 21:1–9). This complex of ideas
connecting innocent blood to the devastation of the land and the casting out of its people is
found also in Jewish literature more widely, from the literature of Qumran—the Temple
Scroll, the Damascus Document, Jubilees—to that of the rabbis, where, for instance, the
blood of Zechariah poured out in the Temple leads finally to the devastation of Jerusalem;
where also the ritual of the unworked heifer (Deut 21:1–9) is still referred to, in Mishnaic
times, precisely as the necessary expiation of the land.
Against this background, 1 Enoch’s vision of the flood as cleansing makes sense. The
problem is an earth corrupted and defiled by blood. The generic violence of Gen 6 has
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become, in 1 Enoch, specifically the violence of Cain: blood poured out, and the cry of the
earth in response. Thus the solution is an earth cleansed. God’s promise in 1 Enoch,
mirroring the rainbow promise of Genesis, is a promise not just (as in Gen 9) of no more
total destruction, but of a purified earth: “And the whole earth shall be cleansed from every
stain (Grk μίασμα, i.e., pollution) and from all impurity and wrath and plague, and I shall
never again send [a flood] upon them for all generations” (1 En. 10:22). When 1 Enoch
reads Gen 6 and the story of the flood in conjunction with Gen 4 and Cain’s act of
bloodshed, it brings to the flood story the whole problem of innocent blood and the
pollution of the land. Read through the lens of the story of Cain, 1 Enoch’s story of the
flood becomes a tale of blood and pollution, of an earth stained and crying out for
cleansing.
If Cain and the blood-stained ground informs 1 Enoch’s story of the flood, 1 Enoch in
its turn shapes the tale of blood poured out that begins in Gen 4. Now giants stalk the earth,
and a single murder becomes a bloodbath that pollutes the whole world. Giants devour
plants and animals and humans alike, and humans, in 1 En. 8, given the art of weaponry,
devastate the earth. Bloodshed is, in 1 Enoch, the defining characteristic of the world. Even
this multiplication of bloodshed, however, has a kind of precursor or exemplar in Genesis.
Genesis moves from Cain’s murder of Abel to the story of Cain’s descendants, ending with
Lamech and his sons. The last named is Tubal-cain, “who made all kinds of bronze and iron
tools” (Gen 4:22 NRSV). Then Lamech says to his wives,
I have killed a man for wounding me,
a young man for striking me.
If Cain is avenged sevenfold,
truly Lamech seventy-seven-fold. (Gen 4:23–24)
Commentators on Genesis see in Lamech’s words, juxtaposed with Tubal-cain and the art
of working bronze and iron—the craft of weaponry—a tale of violence run amok. Like
Cain, Lamech kills, but the vengeance he threatens against those who would kill him in
return is multiplied seventy-fold. And here the story of Cain and his descendants ends, with
a reference to Cain: the story that began with Cain and bloodshed ends with Cain and
bloodshed multiplied exponentially.
In 1 Enoch, the bloodshed of the giants that ends, in 7:6, with the first cry of the earth
leads to a chapter (1 En. 8) detailing the teaching of the rebel angels first mentioned in 7:1.
Here the arts of weaponry have pride of place: “Azael taught men to make swords and
weapons and shields and breastplates and showed them metals and how to work them …
(8:1)”; then people “made desolate all their ways” (8:3). At the end of the chapter, while
people are perishing, again “the cry goes up to heaven” (8:4). Here, as in Gen 4, there is a
cycle of violence—the bloodshed of the giants leading into the teaching of the arts,
including weaponry, and human devastation—framed by a reference to Cain’s act of
bloodshed: the cry of the earth goes up, in 7:6 and in 8:4, to heaven. Thus even 1 Enoch’s
tale of the multiplying of bloodshed on earth finds a starting point in the larger tale of Cain
in Genesis.
Blood, then, poured out upon the ground and polluting the earth, and secrets—the illicit
knowledge of the gods with which humans go astray and are destroyed—are for 1 Enoch
the two-fold problem that corrupts the earth and leads to the flood. In this vision, I have
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argued, 1 Enoch follows Genesis and its tale of the fruit that leads to the knowledge of the
gods, and the blood that cries out from the earth. When, therefore, the angelic intercessors
make the plea of the earth to God in 1 En. 9, their summary reflects the two sins of Gen 3–
4, even in its order: Asael has taught oppression and revealed eternal secrets (1 En. 9:6;
10:4–8) and Shemihazah and his minions went in to the daughters of men, and revealed to
them all sin, and produced giants who filled the whole earth with blood (1 En. 9:7–10;
10:9–15). Secrets and blood, in that order, constitute the problem that devastates the earth.
1 Enoch, it would appear, finds its structure in the structure of Genesis. Its exegesis of Gen
6–9 draws the whole primeval history into the myth of the Watchers and the women: the
story of sin in Genesis is, as it were, the story that shapes the world.
d. The Literary Logic of 1 Enoch 6–11
To read 1 En. 6–11 against the background of Gen 1–6 is to discover a literary tour-de-force
—not two distinct myths awkwardly patched together, but a brilliant interweaving of two
(perhaps indeed originally separate) stories into a coherent narrative. To separate out the
Shemihazah and Asael myths is, as a reading of 1 Enoch, to work exactly against the grain.
The point is how they are combined: precisely in the conjunction of blood and secrets in the
wake of angelic rebellion lies the meaning of the story. Here, in the desire for beautiful
women and the dangerous knowledge to which it leads, and in the blood that is poured out
upon the earth, is the reason for the earth’s devastation. This, like Genesis, is a story of
creation gone awry, and the divine destruction and restoration that follows. So the
punishment of the rebel angels that accompanies the flood is described as a return to chaos
(“then they will be led away into the fiery chaos,” 10:13) and the deliverance of the
righteous as a new creation. The story of the Watchers and the women begins and ends with
creation, and visits Eve’s tree and Cain’s killing field in between.
It does so, to be sure, in its own way. 1 Enoch 6–11 describes a cosmic and
eschatological event: the human drama of Genesis is “ramped up” so that angels and giants
walk where only a man and a woman walked before, and the single murder of Gen 4
becomes a slaughter that stains the whole world. Heaven and earth alike play a part, as do
the fiery pits of some dark netherworld, and the realm of chaos, and finally an age in which
all the trees of the earth are glad, and the whole earth is purified, and the blessings of
heaven rain down upon the labours of human beings, forever. 1 Enoch, that is, takes
Genesis’ story of the beginning of human history as a template for the end of history, and a
drama of sin and devastation, punishment and new creation that involves the whole cosmos,
divine and human together. Urzeit becomes Endzeit, as many commentators have noted, in
the story of the Watchers and the flood.
What they have not noted is that this eschatological vision is thoroughly shaped not just
by Gen 6 and the flood, but by the story of sin and the corruption of the earth that precedes
it, in Gen 1–5. What 1 Enoch brings to the flood story that is truly new—blood and secrets,
the devastating effect of the knowledge of the gods and the blood poured out upon the earth
—derives from Gen 3 and 4 by way of careful exegesis of Gen 6–9. Its use of the Genesis
material is distinctive, insofar as its focus on blood and divine secrets gives to the flood
story a concern with corruption and pollution, corruption of knowledge, of the earth, of the
ways of humans and angels, on a grand scale that lends it a large, even cosmic, theological
reach. But this reach is not opposed to the story of sin and flood in Genesis. It is thoroughly
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coloured by that story. If it includes angels in its scope, it includes also women; if giants
drink the blood of the innocent so that the earth cries out, men use the weapons of war to
devastate the earth. And the problems the angels in their concourse with women cause—
bloodshed and the knowledge of divine secrets—are the very problems that plague the first
humans in the primordial history of Genesis. This is not an alternative aetiology of evil. It
is, rather, a cosmic version of the story of rebellion and bloodshed and the knowledge that
ruins the earth already told in Gen 1–6. 1 Enoch tells the same story, and draws the heavens
into its purview. It is the primordial history told in a time of angels and demons, in the time
also, perhaps, of a vast violence that threatens to overwhelm the earth.
So far from being hostile to pentateuchal traditions, then, 1 Enoch is shaped by them.
Its exegetical use of Gen 6 is governed by a vision on which Gen 1, 3, and 4 is stamped.
There is a comprehensive quality to this reading of Scripture that takes up (to use a good
Enochic phrase!) the narrative as a whole, and as paradigmatic, even as it expands upon it.
We have here not just isolated incidents or themes from Gen 3 and 4 combined with mythic
material to make a narrative foreign to Genesis, but the words of Genesis and the themes as
they arise in Genesis underlying and structuring the story of Shemihazah and Asael and the
flood to make a story about sin and evil, about the corruption of the earth and its necessary
purgation, that follows the contours of Genesis even as it reflects upon it.
e. Conclusion
To read 1 En. 6–11 in conjunction with Gen 1–6 is to discover an intellectual tradition, a
way of understanding the world, that is not only profoundly theological, reading the whole
cosmos as a drama of creation, corruption and purgation, but also steeped in Scripture,
precisely in the primordial backdrop to the pentateuchal narrative. Though it is telling the
story of the flood and not of creation and garden and the field of Cain, 1 Enoch incorporates
the entire primordial history into its telling of Gen 6. The sin of the angels and the women,
and the corruption of the earth, is a sin that can only be imagined in the categories of Gen 3
and 4, as a matter of blood and secrets and the rebellion that devastates the earth, as a
matter of creation gone awry and its cosmic restoration. The focus on the moment of the
flood, and its cosmic scope, is appropriate for an eschatological drama, but it does not
negate the human drama of Genesis. Rather, 1 En. 6–11 claims Gen 1 and 3 and 4 as the
true story, the story that structures the world. If in fact a “non-conformist movement of
dissent” at odds with the Jerusalem priesthood lies behind 1 Enoch, it cannot be discovered
from the way in which 1 Enoch uses Genesis. The wholesale adoption of the narratives of
Genesis in 1 En. 6–11—if it does not throw into question the whole project of reading from
a text directly to an underlying historical situation—suggests either that no such non-
conformist movement underlies 1 Enoch, or (more probably) that the dividing lines
between groups in early Judaism are not as straightforward as we like to make them.
Whether or not the Enoch traditions represent an alternative to the priestly traditions
centred in Jerusalem, it is clear that they claimed Genesis, and its vision of good and evil,
for themselves.
In its reflection upon Genesis, 1 En. 6–11 articulates a link between Gen 6 and the flood
that cleanses the earth, and Gen 3 and 4, with its story of sin: the corruption of the woman
on the one hand and Cain’s bloodshed on the other. The problem to which the flood is a
response becomes specifically the blood that cries out from the ground (a problem that is
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intertwined with and follows upon the taking of the women and illicit divine knowledge). It
is a problem that arises from powers that pervert their way, and in so doing lead the people
astray. And it gives rise finally to the act of God: a cleansing of the earth that is first flood
and finally the judgment-cataclysm of the last days. This pattern—from corrupt and
corrupting powers to blood to judgment-flood—finds an echo, as I hope to demonstrate, in
other early Jewish (and Christian) literature.
Susanna and the Gospel of Matthew, two works quite different in scope and widely
separated in time, both tell stories in which the problem of blood is pivotal. In their own
ways, I suggest, they present the problem of blood in terms of the pattern evident in 1 En.
6–11. They present it, that is, with an eye to the reading of Genesis that 1 Enoch makes
possible, as a story of blood that stains the land and puts the whole people at risk, blood
crying out for the judgment-act of God. Susanna tells this tale with an emphasis on the first
part of Genesis’ (and 1 Enoch’s) story of sin: corrupt and corrupting powers and the woman
in the garden. Matthew tells it focusing on the second part: the blood that cries out from the
ground, blood of Abel unjustly shed. In both, the blood of the innocent, “innocent blood,”
becomes the story’s ominous centre.
2. Susanna and 1 Enoch

George Brooke, in his article “Susanna and Paradise Regained,” has shown that Susanna
reads as a reversal of the “Eve in the garden” story of Gen 3. Sarah Pearce independently
demonstrated that Susanna provides an “explicit contrast” to Eve. This reversal, or contrast,
is accomplished by assimilating the narrative of Susanna to the narrative of Gen 3. As
Brooke and Pearce both show, there is extensive overlap of vocabulary in a story set in a
garden (παράδεισος; cf. Gen 2:8 and Gen 3:1 et passim) about a woman whose beauty is
lush and desirable (καλή, Sus θ 2, 31; τρυφερά, OG/θ 31; cf. καλόν, Gen 3:6;
παράδεισος τῆς τρυφῆς, Gen 3:23); and beguiles (ἀπατάω, OG/θ 56; cf. Gen 3:13)
elders who seek to force her into an action that is (like the taking of the fruit in Genesis)
death to her; by her risky refusal, a refusal that is obedience to the commandments of God,
she—and the people—are saved from shedding “innocent blood” (Sus 62). So, as Brooke
concludes, “The Eden narrative is reversed; paradise is regained. Just as through Eve’s
disobedience death came into the world, so through a woman’s obedience vindication is
shown to be available for all who fear God and stand under the authority of the Law.”
The connection with the Genesis story is thus clear. Why, though, as Robert Doran asks,
the motif of the false accusation of adultery against an innocent woman? Whence, one
might also ask, the lecherous elders? Nickelsburg finds the source for the adultery motif in
the Joseph story, which has echoes also in Daniel proper; Mackenzie points out that with
adultery, the Susanna story fills out the trio of sins in Daniel—unclean food, idolatry and
now unchastity. I suggest that the answer lies in 1 Enoch. Concinnities between the
narrative of Susanna and the narrative of 1 En. 6–11, as well as occasional and striking
verbal echoes, give rise to the possibility that the story of the Watchers and the women,
itself in part a reflection on Gen 3, lies in the background of the story of Susanna.
a. Angels and Elders: Illicit Desire
Susanna begins with a beautiful woman (γυνή … καλή, Sus θ 2; γυνὴ ἀστεία, 7/8
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OG). That she is the wife of one of the “sons of Israel” is stressed in the Old Greek; that she
is also a daughter (θυγάτηρ) is stressed in θ (three times). She is, in any case, out of
bounds. Enter two elders, judges in the community of Israel in Babylon. Seeing the
beautiful woman, they desire her (ἐπιθυμήσαντες αὐτῆς, 7/8 OG; ἐπιθυμία αὐτῶν,
θ 14). “And they turned aside their mind and bent down their eyes so as not to look at
heaven or to be mindful of just judgments” (9 OG/θ), Susanna recounts. At first they hide
their shameful/wicked (ᾐσχύνοντο, 11 θ; τὸ κακόν, 11 OG) desire; nor, the Old Greek
adds, does the woman know about “this business” (τὸ πρᾶγμα τοῦτο, 11 OG). But
when they discover their mutual passion, they make a pact: “and one said to the other,” the
Old Greek relates, “ ‘Let us go in to her,’ and having made a pact they went to her and tried
to force her” (καὶ εἶπεν εἷς τῷ ἑτέρῳ Πορευθῶμεν πρὸς αὐτήν· καὶ
συνθέμενοι προσήλθοσαν αὐτῇ καὶ ἐξεβιάζοντο αὐτήν 19 OG; cf. θ 14: καὶ
τότε κοινῇ συνετάξαντο καιρὸν …).
All this parallels, in word and deed, the beginning of the story of the Watchers and the
women. The plot unfolds in the same way, and in the same words: it begins with beautiful
women (καλαί, 6:1; γυνή, 6:2, 7:1), daughters (θυγατέρες 6:1) of the sons of men
(υἱοὶ τῶν ἀνθρωπῶν, 6:1) who ought to be out of bounds; the angels (like the judges,
power figures) see them and desire them (ἐπεθύμησαν αὐτάς, 6:2) and in doing so turn
their eyes away from heaven (the “sons of heaven,” the text specifies, look upon the
“daughters of men”); knowing their desire is a “great sin” they make a pact with each other
to do “this deed” (τὸ πρᾶγμα τοῦτο, 1 En. 6:3). Then they go in to the women
(εἰσπορεύεσθαι πρὸς αὐτάς, 7:1), and, in 1 Enoch, the story of bloodshed and the
earth’s devastation begins.
Susanna’s story of the lustful elders thus calls up, in its overall shape and in its detail, 1
Enoch’s story of the Watchers and the women. There are several more striking similarities.
In both stories, the woman is trapped by the wicked desire of the judges/angels. In 1 Enoch,
the angels simply “take” the women, with the result that death visits the earth in the bloody
rampage of their giant children. For Susanna, the only choice is death: either the death of
sin, death before God, or immediate death at the hands of the thwarted elders.
Again, the texts describe the situation of the people in the hands of the giants and
Susanna in the hands of the elders in the same terms: as the groaning of the trapped. When
the archangels finally hear the cry of the slaughtered in 1 Enoch they say to God, “And now
behold, their groaning (ὁ στεναγμὸς αὐτῶν) has gone up and they cannot get out from
the face of the lawlessness (τῶν ἀνομημάτων) that has come to pass upon earth” (1 En.
9:10). Susanna, surrounded by the lecherous elders (called frequently “the lawless ones,” οἰ
ἄνομοι, Sus 35a OG; cf. 28 OG; θ 5, 28, 32, 57), cries out—“groans” in θ
(ἀνεστέναξεν) and says, “Στενά μοι πάντοθεν (θ 22): I am hemmed in on every
side.” “For if I do this, it is death to me, and if I do not do it, I shall not escape from your
hands” (22–23 OG and θ). Susanna, like the children of earth, is trapped by lawlessness
and cannot get out.
b. The Blood of the Innocent
Secondly, the desire of angels and elders that hems in Susanna and the women and, in 1
Enoch, eventually the whole earth, is defiling. The angels, going in to the women, defile
themselves with them (μιαίνεσθαι ἐν αὐτᾶις, the Greek reads at 1 En. 7:1). The word
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μιαίνω means, in origin, “stain”; Daniel in the Old Greek calls the elders’ desire
“defiling” (ἡ μιαρὰ ἐπιθυμία, OG 56)—literally, “stained with blood.” Indeed, the
consequence in both cases is bloodshed: the blood of murdered humans that does in fact cry
out from the ground in 1 Enoch; the innocent blood of Susanna that is, by divine
intervention, saved.
In both stories, in fact, the blood of the innocent becomes the problem that haunts the
narrative. In 1 En. 6–11, the giants devour people and drink blood until the earth cries out
(7:6); the cry of those who have been killed goes up to heaven (8:4); it is precisely the
blood poured out upon the earth that finally gets the attention of the archangels (9:1). This
blood “brings suit” (ἐντυγχάνω in the Greek): that is, it is blood unjustly shed, blood of
the innocent, blood that cries out like the blood of Abel to heaven for requital. Those who
shed it are the ἄνομοι, the lawless ones (1 En. 7:6; cf. 9:10).
At its critical moment, Susanna’s narrative likewise defines the problem as being one of
blood unjustly shed, the blood of the innocent that (because it is innocent) demands
requital. When Susanna has been (unjustly) condemned and is being led off to death, Daniel
(inspired in OG by an angel and in θ by God who wakes in him the holy spirit) protests:
καθαρὸς ἐγώ, he cries in θ, ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος ταύτης: “I am innocent of this
woman’s blood.” In LXX he says, more explicitly, “Sons of Israel—you fools! Have you
condemned a daughter of Israel without knowing the facts?” And to the judges he says,
“You condemned the innocent (ἀθῷον κατέκρινας) but let the guilty go, although the
Lord said: ‘You shall not kill the innocent and righteous’ ” (ἀθῷον καὶ δίκαιον οὐκ
ἀποκτενεῖς, Sus 53, cf. Exod 23:7). Susanna’s death is a problem of innocent blood.
In both 1 Enoch and Susanna, blood—the blood of those murdered by devouring giants
and weapons of war; the blood of the innocent woman condemned to death—brings the
story to its crisis. In both cases, this bloodshed is also injustice: in Susanna it is obviously
the result of unjust judgment engineered by corrupt judges; in 1 Enoch the giants devour
people who are helpless against them and the angels say, “the whole earth has been filled
with blood and injustice (or oppression)” (ὅλη ἡ γῆ ἐπλήσθη αἵματος καὶ ἀδικίας,
9:9). This is not just any bloodshed, not the violence of warfare or just execution, but
“innocent blood”: murder, judicial or otherwise. Because it is unjustly shed, this blood of
the innocent is also defiling. As in 1 Enoch the earth cries out at the blood of the perishing
people that has been poured out upon it and must be cleansed, so in Susanna too, in the
LXX, the shedding of innocent blood is connected with defilement. The desire of the elders
is μιαρά, blood-stained and defiling.
Further, the consequences in both cases are dire. The earth stained by blood cries out in
1 Enoch and the whole earth is destroyed (10:2). Daniel, in θ, invokes the penalty for
shedding innocent blood: “I am innocent of this woman’s blood,” he says. “For your own
lifeblood,” God says in Genesis, “I will surely require a reckoning … Whoever sheds the
blood of a human, by a human shall that person’s blood be shed” (Gen 9:5–6 NRSV). The
shedding of innocent blood is ominous because innocent blood pollutes the land in the
tradition of the Hebrew Scriptures, a tradition reflected in the cry of the blood-stained land
in 1 Enoch and Daniel’s dismay at judicial murder. “You shall accept no ransom for the life
of a murderer … You shall not pollute the land in which you live, for blood pollutes the
land, and no expiation can be made for the land, for the blood that is shed in it, except by
the blood of the one who shed it” (Num 35:31, 33 NRSV). Those who kill the innocent by
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unjust judgment or (like Joab) by weapons of war have the blood of the innocent on their
head—the very blood that stains the land, that cries out to heaven from the earth that has
opened its mouth to receive it; and only (ominously) by the blood of the one who shed it
shall the land be cleansed.
When Daniel, in Susanna, declares this woman’s death a matter of innocent blood the
whole story stops. At his words πᾶς ὁ λαός, the people as a whole, turn in their tracks to
hear his charge. For innocent blood will pollute the land, will stain the city and the
παράδεισος in which the woman walks, and the people will bear its cost. Like Cain, they
will be “cursed from the ground that has opened its mouth to receive the blood” of a brother
from their hand; the land itself will cast them out (Gen 4:11; cf. Num 35:33–34 and Lev
18:25–28—the land will vomit out the people who shed innocent blood upon it). There is
more at stake, in the story of Susanna, than the wrongful death of one woman. The whole
people are at risk, together with their life in the garden.
As in 1 Enoch, here too the question of innocent blood brings us back to creation and
the garden, and the walk with God. The urgent question that underlies the whole story is
this: Shall the people be saved? What will become of the garden where the people gather?
The narrative of Susanna θ sets up precisely this question at the story’s beginning. In the
beginning there is the παράδεισος, the home of the most worthy man and the woman
who fears the Lord, the beautiful garden where all the people gather (Sus θ 2–4). Enter,
then, the elders: “concerning whom the Lord said ‘Wickedness went out from Babylon,
from elders who were judges, who were thought to govern the people’ ” (Sus θ 5). The
garden, that earthly paradise—like the ordered world of God’s creation in 1 Enoch—is
under threat, drawn into corruption by the presence in it of the wicked elders. Their
wickedness—their hypocrisy, their lust, their anger, their thirst for blood—culminates in
“innocent blood”: the wrongful condemnation of the innocent woman. Here is the fruit and
sum of ἀνομία in the garden: the blood that taints paradise, the expulsion from the garden
that looms, unspoken, over the people. Therefore the people stop in their tracks at Daniel’s
cry; therefore the story ends with a vast sigh of relief: “and innocent blood was saved on
that day.” It is not just that Susanna has been saved. It is that innocent blood, with its vast
consequences for land and people, was not shed. If with the elders’ arrival the garden stands
under threat, corrupted by the wickedness that culminates in innocent blood, with Susanna’s
prayer (as we will see) and Daniel’s intervention innocent blood, and the garden, are saved.
This is, in fact, the progression that marks the narrative of 1 Enoch. Both stories
describe the παράδεισος, the ordered world of God’s creation (cf. 1 En. 2–5), under
threat, suffering at the hands of powers who pervert their proper role—angels who take
mortal women; judges who are lawless. Both stories sum up that threat in the image of the
blood of the innocent; both stories move through corruption and innocent blood to a final
purgation and restoration. There is this difference, however: in Susanna innocent blood is
not shed. In 1 Enoch the women are helpless against the rebel angels, and mingle with
them, and the earth is defiled by blood and secrets alike. Only in the wake of blood and
defilement and destruction, only by an eschatological act of God, is there renewal, and a
return to the garden and the walk with God. In Susanna, the woman, though helpless
against the errant judges, nevertheless does not accede to their wickedness. Instead she
prays, and at her prayer God acts and Daniel intervenes to save the people from shedding
innocent blood. The restoration, in Susanna, is this-worldly; because of the faithfulness of
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the woman and the wisdom of the young man it need not wait until the eschaton. But it is,
just as in 1 Enoch, a restoration. As in 1 Enoch the rebel angels are cast out and imprisoned
and the giants destroyed and the earth healed so that it may be again a paradise, so in
Susanna the elders are punished with the death they would have meted out to the innocent
woman, and “no shameful thing” is found in Susanna or, any longer, in her garden.
This happy ending, the restoration of innocence in the garden, comes about, in both 1
Enoch and in Susanna, in the same way. In both stories it is a prayer uttered at the critical
moment, a prayer prompted by innocent blood, which moves the narrative to its resolution:
in 1 Enoch, the prayer of the angels as they look down upon the bloodied earth; in Susanna,
the woman’s prayer as she faces the shedding of her own blood.
Susanna’s brief prayer at the moment of her condemnation (or of her trial, in LXX) is the
hinge on which the plot turns—away from blood, toward salvation: “and the Lord heard her
prayer,” the narrative reads (Sus θ 44, OG 35a). In the wake of her prayer, at the moment
she is about to die, Daniel prompted by God cries out against the shedding of her innocent
blood—and the time of reckoning for the judges arrives. In the same way, the angels’ prayer
in 1 Enoch occurs as they see “much blood being poured out upon the earth”; it prompts,
finally, God’s act. At their prayer the narrative turns from the bloody hegemony of the rebel
angels and their brood, to the cataclysm in which the rebels are overthrown: the flood and
final judgment that cleanses and restores the earth.
As it serves the same narrative function (to turn the plot), so too Susanna’s prayer
echoes the final words of the angels’ prayer in 1 En. 9. Κύριε ὁ θεὸς ὁ αἰώνιος,
Susanna says, “Lord God Eternal, you who know all things before they come to be (ὁ
εἰδὼς τὰ πάντα πρὶν γενέσεως αὐτῶν, 35a OG; 42/43 θ); you know that I did not
do what these lawless men have wickedly brought against me.” Her prayer is simply this: a
witness to her unjust death before the God who knows all things. There is no petition, no
plea for help. It is rather a bald statement of the inconcinnity of things, of the gap between
what is—innocent blood being shed—and the omniscience and omnipotence of God.
So, too, in 1 Enoch. The angels, praying to the one who is “Lord of Lords and God of
Gods and eternal king (βασιλεὺς τῶν αἰώνων)” (1 En. 9:4) state the facts: the whole
earth is filled with blood and injustice, and the souls of the dead cry out, and their groaning
goes up to the gates of heaven, and they cannot escape the lawlessness that reigns upon the
earth: “And you,” they conclude, “know all things before they come to be”; you see these
things and allow them, and you do not tell us what we are to do (1 En. 9:9–11). Σὺ πάντα
οἶδας πρὸ τοῦ αὐτὰ γένεσθαι: the statement is the same in 1 Enoch and Susanna.
Though God’s omniscience is a common theme in Jewish prayers of petition, nowhere else
is it said exactly like this. Further, as Nickelsburg notes, only here, only in 1 En. 9 and Sus
42–43, is there no petition. Susanna, caught like the women of 1 Enoch and their world in
the vise of unjust powers, in an earth threatened by innocent blood, makes, like the angels,
a plea that is no plea, but simply the cry of the innocent in the hands of the unjust to the all-
knowing God.
God, in both stories, acts. In 1 Enoch God sends the angel with a message of
punishment and restoration: the coming flood and the imprisonment of the rebel angels and
the healing of the earth. In Susanna God sends, through an angel, a spirit of understanding
to Daniel (or, in θ, awakens a holy spirit in Daniel), enabling Daniel’s witness and the
punishment of the elders and Susanna’s deliverance—which is the salvation of the people
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too. The elders meet a fate like that of 1 Enoch’s rebel angels: they are, in the OG, gagged
and led away and cast into a chasm (cf. 1 En. 10:4–5, 10–13). “And innocent blood was
saved on that day,” the narrative triumphantly concludes. This is the happy ending of the
story of the garden and the elders and the beautiful—and faithful—woman, and the story’s
point. Where in 1 Enoch blood has already been shed and the earth with the voice of Abel
has cried out and must be destroyed before it can be healed, here by the steadfastness of the
woman, innocence and the garden are preserved.
If this is a story that reverses Gen 3 and the tale of the first woman in the garden, it is
also a story that reverses, even as it echoes, 1 En. 6–11. Innocent blood shall not be shed,
and the earth and the people shall not be made desolate, because the woman is faithful.
Whereas 1 Enoch turns the human story of Genesis into a cosmic drama of angels and
giants and an earth that looks to the eschatological action of God for its healing, Susanna
takes up the problem of evil powers and innocent blood and humanizes it again. Evil and
salvation alike are matters of this world, present-tense rather than eschatological. The
garden is the home of the faithful Judahite, and the powers are Israel’s unjust judges, and
the woman who is both powerless and true becomes the source, not of the people’s
devastation, but of its salvation. “And innocent blood was saved on that day.”
3. Matthew, Susanna and 1 Enoch

a. Matthew and Susanna
At the climax of the Matthean passion narrative, Pilate utters words that link the trial of
Jesus to the story of Susanna: “Pilate, seeing that nothing could be done, but that, rather, a
riot was beginning, took water and washed his hands before the crowd saying, ‘I am
innocent of the blood of this man’ ” (ἀθῷός εἰμι ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος τούτου, Matt
27:24). At the climax of Susanna’s trial, as she is condemned to death and is being led
away, Daniel cries out, “I am innocent of the blood of this woman” (καθαρὸς ἐγὼ ἀπὸ
τοῦ αἵματος ταύτης, Sus θ 46). Most commentators note the echo without pursuing it.
Robert Gundry says simply, Pilate’s statement “may well display influence from Sus 46
(Theod).” Van Tilborg, alone among commentators on Matthew, goes further. In this echo
he sees a pointer to a broad correspondence between the two narratives: “the story of
Susanna could have provided and probably did provide the pattern for the [Matthean]
passion narrative. C. B. Tkacz has argued in a number of articles for a deliberate and
extensive correspondence between the figure of Susanna and the figure of Jesus in
Matthew. Susanna, she says, serves for Matthew as a type—indeed, the key type—of
Christ.
The correspondences between the two narratives are impressive. Both narratives set the
scene of the betrayal and arrest “after two days” (Matt 26:2)/“on the third day” (Sus θ 14–
15). Both narratives introduce “elders of the people” (πρεσβύτεροι τοῦ λαοῦ, Matt
26:3, 47; 27:1; Sus θ 41, cf. 5, πρεσβύτεροι ἐκ τοῦ λαοῦ—the phrase occurs only in
Matthew in the New Testament, and rarely in the Old Testament) who conspire together
against Jesus/Susanna (Matt 26:3–4, 14–16; Sus θ 14) to entrap them by treachery (Matt
26:4, 14–16; Sus θ 18–22); Jesus and Susanna are both betrayed in a garden; both are
innocent; both are silent during their trials; both trials involve two false witnesses; both
trust in God (the phrase is similar: πέποιθεν ἐπὶ τὸν θεόν, Matt 27:43; πεποιθυῖα
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ἐπι τῷ κυριῷ, Sus θ 35); both are condemned to death. There are also verbal parallels.
The elders’/elders’ and priests’ intent to condemn to death is described with a nearly
identical five-word phrase: κατὰ Σουσαννης τοῦ θανατῶσαι αὐτήν (Sus θ 28);
κατὰ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ὥστε θανατῶσαι αὐτόν (Matt 27:1; cf. 26:59). At the point of
death both Susanna and Jesus cry out to God in a loud voice: ἀνεβόησεν … φωνῇ
μεγάλῃ (Matt 26:46; Sus θ 42–43). And, of course, the narratives correspond at their
climax. Pilate and Daniel say, “I am innocent of this one’s blood,” and “the whole people”
(πᾶς ὁ λαός) responds (Matt 27:25; Sus θ 47).
Some of these parallels—the structure of the trial; the cry φωνῇ μεγάλῃ—occur also
in Mark and/or Luke; hence Tkacz argues that Susanna serves as a type of Christ not just in
Matthew but broadly in early Christian tradition. But the πρεσβύτεροι τοῦ λαοῦ and
the charge of innocent blood, together with πᾶς ὁ λαός before whom the charge is made,
are found only in Matthew and in Susanna. In these elements (as, indeed, in the other
parallels Tkacz notes) there is more than the correspondence between the figure of Susanna
and the figure of Jesus. There is the outline of a story. Moreover, it is a story whose pattern
owes something not only to Susanna but also to the earlier reflection on Genesis that helps
give Susanna its particular shape: the story of blood poured out upon the ground in 1
Enoch.
In many ways Matthew’s story has the same overall shape as that of Susanna. It begins
with elders who pervert their proper role to lead people astray, by treacherous teaching, by
violence against the innocent and righteous, and culminates in the cry of innocent blood.
And it affects the whole people. In Susanna the elders who are judges enact lawlessness
(ἀνομία, ἄνομοι, παράνομοι, Sus θ 5, 28, 32 et passim; cf. OG 28, 32); they
condemn the innocent and let the guilty go (Sus 53); as the story puts it at its beginning,
“they perverted their minds and bent down their eyes so as not to look to heaven nor to
remember just judgments” (Sus 9). In Matthew the leaders likewise pervert justice, acting
with treachery (δόλῳ, 26:4), calling false witnesses, persuading the people to condemn the
innocent and let the guilty go (27:20, chief priests and elders persuade the crowds to ask for
the “notorious prisoner” Barabbas and to have Jesus killed). They are, as Matthew says of
the Pharisees in ch. 23, hypocrites who lead the people astray; in Matt 23, as in the passion
narrative, the leaders’ false teaching culminates in violence: innocent blood poured out
upon the ground (Matt 23:35). Matthew ties the Pharisees’ shedding of innocent blood in
this passage to the shedding of Jesus’ blood at the instigation of the priests in ch. 27 (“all
this [innocent blood] will come upon this generation,” 23:36; “the whole people replied,
“his blood be upon us and upon our children,” 27:25). In this way the story moves from
corrupt leaders to innocent blood, the blood of the righteous person wrongly condemned,
the blood of Susanna, the blood of Jesus.
It is a story, too, that affects not just the one condemned, but the whole people. The
innocent blood shed by the Pharisees will come upon the heads of the whole generation
(23:36); when Pilate washes his hands of Jesus’ innocent blood it is the whole people who
take that blood upon their heads (27:25). So, too, in Susanna. When Daniel protests the
shedding of Susanna’s innocent blood, “the whole people” turns to him in dismay; at the
story’s beginning lawlessness in the person of the two elders goes out like a miasma over
the garden, and at its end it is not just Susanna but “innocent blood” that is saved that day.
This is a story that has to do not only with the wrongful execution of one woman, but with
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the garden and the people who dwell in it (see above, pp. 118–20).
The common shape of the story, in Matthew as in Susanna, its movement from
treacherous elders to innocent blood, the way in which the leaders’ corruption culminating
in the shedding of innocent blood draws the whole people into its dangerous web, suggests
that it is not just Susanna who is of interest to Matthew in his structuring of the passion
narrative. Matthew, that is, does not simply see in Susanna a type of Christ; this is not the
point of the parallels between the two narratives. It is rather a matter of a narrative yielding
a pattern. And what is central to this pattern—the elders, innocent blood, the doom that
hangs over the whole people—is central not to Susanna alone, but also to 1 Enoch.
In fact, the nature of Matthew’s borrowing from Susanna, though it indicates the
influence of Susanna, points ultimately beyond Susanna to the narrative that underlies it:
the tale of rebel angels and blood poured out upon the land and a whole people perishing
found in 1 En. 6–11. There is, indeed, an anomaly in Matthew’s use of Susanna to inform
the trial of Jesus: the problem in Susanna is adultery. Jesus’ trial has nothing to do with
adultery; the charge, as far as there is a charge, is blasphemy. The common element in the
trial of Jesus and Susanna is not the charge, but the condemnation: the cry of innocent
blood. This is what Matthew finds illuminating—and paradigmatic—in the story of
Susanna. And it is in his focus on the problem of innocent blood that the deeper roots of his
narrative become evident. For if innocent blood in Susanna appears suddenly at the climax
of the story, in Matthew blood permeates the whole narrative. Matthew departs from
Susanna in two key ways: in his focus on innocent blood, and in the outcome of the story.
Susanna lives, and “innocent blood was saved on that day”; Jesus dies, and the earth is
convulsed … even as resurrection stirs the land. Precisely these departures bring Matthew
closer to the story that underlies Susanna: 1 En. 6–11 and innocent blood not just at risk,
but poured out upon the land. To trace Matthew’s emphasis on innocent blood and its
consequences is to hear the echo of 1 Enoch underneath the echo of Susanna.
b. Innocent Blood in Matthew
In Matthew the charge of innocent blood at Jesus’ death does not stand alone. In contrast to
Susanna, where Daniel’s cry of innocent blood emerges from nowhere, in Matthew Pilate’s
solemn statement and the people’s response is the climactic reiteration of a charge of
innocent blood that has been made twice already: at Judas’ death in 27:4–10 and in Jesus’
woes against the Pharisees, culminating in 23:35. Both of these passages have to do with
corrupt leaders and the problem of innocent blood and its cost for the people.
Seeing that Jesus is handed over to Pontius Pilate and so to execution, Judas tries to
return the thirty silver pieces, now blood-money, to the priests. “I sinned,” he says, “in
betraying innocent blood” (ἥμαρτον παραδοὺς αἷμα ἀθῷον, 27:4). “What is that to
us?” the priests respond. “See to it yourself” (i.e. it is your responsibility) (τί πρὸς ἡμᾶς;
σὺ ὄψῃ, 27:4). Their exchange anticipates the exchange between Pilate and the people at
Jesus’ sentencing: “I am innocent of the blood of this man,” Pilate says, reversing Judas’
formulation. “See to it yourselves” (ἀθῷός εἰμι ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος τούτου; ὑμεῖς
ὄψεσθε, 27:24). Pilate and the priests alike refuse responsibility for the blood they are
about to shed, leaving it upon Judas’ or the people’s heads. Judas, ominously, hangs
himself. The priests buy with the blood-money—which, as the price of blood and therefore
unclean, cannot stay in the temple—a burial ground for foreigners, a place doubly unclean.
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That field is called “to this day,” Matthew says, “field of blood” (ἀγρὸς αἵματος, 27:8).
Innocent blood and its taint linger upon the ground and upon the people.
Innocent blood and its ominous effect upon the land and the people is, in fact, already
suggested in Matt 23, in the passage that finds an echo in 27:25 at the climax of the passion
narrative. Matthew 23:35 forms the culmination of Jesus’ charges against the Pharisees:
hypocrites, blind guides, claiming to know the laws of heaven they make their converts
children of hell (23:13–15); claiming to be innocent of the blood of the prophets they kill
prophets and wise ones and scribes (23:30–34), so that, Jesus says, “upon you may come all
the innocent blood poured out upon the earth from the blood of Abel the righteous to the
blood of Zechariah … Amen I say to you, all this will come upon this generation” (ὅπως
ἔλθῃ ἐφʼ ὑμᾶς πᾶν αἷμα δίκαιον ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς ἀπὸ τοῦ
αἵματος Ἅβελ τοῦ δικαίου ἕως τοῦ αἵματος Ζαχαρίου … ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν,
ἥξει ταῦτα πάντα ἐπὶ τὴν γενεὰν ταύτην, 23:35–36). As teachers and guides and
judges the leaders pervert their proper role; their corruption culminates in the shedding of
innocent blood, and the whole people bear the consequences. Not only upon the Pharisees,
but upon “this generation,” the stain of innocent blood will come.
Jesus moves directly from this word to the lament over Jerusalem: “Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, city that kills the prophets and stones those sent to it … behold your house is left
to you, desolate.” The prediction of the Temple’s destruction, and the general cataclysm,
follows (Matt 24). The proximity of the prophecies of desolation and destruction—
precisely of temple and city, the centre of the life of the people of God—to the warning that
innocent blood will come upon the people, invites us to see the two statements in
relationship. The cost of the leaders’ corruption and the shedding of innocent blood is the
destruction of the holy place, city and temple alike. Indeed, the desolation of Jerusalem
becomes, in the order of Matthew’s narrative, a sign and harbinger of the cataclysm that
marks the end of all things and the coming of the day of the Lord: immediately after the
prophecy of Jerusalem’s desolation, upon hearing of the destruction of the Temple the
disciples ask, “When will these things be, and what is the sign of your parousia and the end
of the age?” The Matthaean apocalypse follows (cf. 24:3–51). When, therefore, the people
at the decisive moment of Jesus’ trial say to Pontius Pilate, “His blood be upon us and upon
our children,” their cry points to the fulfillment of Jesus’ words in 23:35 and the lament
over Jerusalem sounds in the background.
Matthew departs from Susanna not only in his emphasis on innocent blood, but in the
story’s immediate outcome. In Susanna, the people turn back at Daniel’s cry from shedding
innocent blood. Daniel, inspired by an angel of the Lord (OG) or with the holy spirit
awakened in him by God (θ) becomes for the people the true leader who makes justice
possible—and so “innocent blood was saved on that day.” In Matthew there is no just
judge, either in Rome or in Israel, and Jesus’ blood is shed. The moment of divine
intervention, of overturning the threat of innocent blood, is not yet. As a result, innocent
blood in Matthew’s narrative is poured out upon the land, and Jesus’ death augurs the
cataclysm.
When Jesus is crucified, at the moment he gives up the spirit with a great cry, we read:
“behold the veil of the temple was torn from top to bottom in two, and the earth was shaken
and the rocks were split” (καὶ ἰδοὺ τὸ καταπέτασμα τοῦ ναοῦ ἐσχίσθη ἀπʼ
ἄνωθεν ἕως κάτω εἰς δύο καὶ ἡ γῆ ἐσείσθη καὶ αἱ πέτραι ἐσχίσθησαν …,
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27:51). These are standard images in Old Testament theophanies: when God descends the
mountains reel and rock, the earth shakes, rocks break in pieces; in Zech 14:4 the Mount of
Olives is split. In the prophets such signs usher in the Day of Judgment and the reign of
God. Cosmic signs mark, too, the apocalypse in Matt 24: “the sun will be darkened and the
moon will not give its light and the stars will fall from heaven and the powers of the heaven
will reel and rock” (24:29, quoting Isa 13:10, cf. Joel 2:10; 3:4; 3:15 and Ezek 32:7).
Matthew, that is, collapses the death of Jesus into the Last Day and the upheaval of the
earth that marks the final cataclysm. The parousia of the Son of Man will be a cataclysm,
even a second flood (κατακλυσμός, 24:37–39). The cosmic consequences of innocent
blood—culminating in the blood of Jesus—announced in Matt 23 already begin at Jesus’
death.
c. Innocent Blood and Cataclysm, in 1 Enoch and in Matthew
Matthew’s account is unlike Susanna: there is in that humanistic tale no cosmic upheaval.
But it is very much like 1 Enoch. For in 1 Enoch it is precisely the shedding of innocent
blood that, at the angels’ prayer, brings on the cataclysm, a cataclysm imaged, as in Matt
24, as a flood; a cataclysm that is finally eschatological. Or rather, the story of the flood
becomes in 1 Enoch’s hands a vision of the last days, a cosmic drama driven by blood
poured out upon the earth. As the giant offspring of the Watchers and the women devour
human beings and each other and drink blood, “the earth made accusation against the
lawless ones” (τότε ἡ γῆ ἐνέτυχεν κατὰ τῶν ἀνόμων, 1 En. 7:6, Grk). As Asael
teaches weaponry and Semihazah and his minions sorcery and people are wandering and
destroyed, “the cry [of the perishing people] went up to heaven” (τῶν ἀνθρώπων
ἀπολλυμένων ἡ βοὴ εἰς οὐρανοὺς ἀνέβη, 1 En. 8:4). The archangels looking
down from heaven see “much blood being poured out upon the earth; and they said to each
other, ‘the voice of those crying out upon the earth goes up even to the gates of heaven’ ”
(αἷμα πολὺ ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς· καὶ εἶπαν πρὸς ἀλλήλους φωνὴ
βοώντων ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς μέχρι πυλῶν τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, 1 En. 9:1–2). It is the blood of
the giants’ helpless victims, of the perishing people, crying out upon the earth that drives
the angels to intercede
And at their prayer, at the cry of blood poured out, God, who has until now been silent,
acts: “then the Most High said about these things …, ‘Say [to Noah] in my name, hide
yourself! And show him the coming end, for the whole earth will be destroyed and the
cataclysm is going to come upon the whole earth’ ” (1 En. 10:1–2). Then the earth is
opened and Asael the rebel angel cast into it and rocks thrown down upon him, at God’s
command (1 En. 10:4–5). The immediate cataclysm shades into the judgment of the last
day: “and in the day of the great judgment they will be taken away into the place of
burning” (1 En. 10:6). Innocent blood, here as in Matthew, leads to the splitting of the earth
and the cataclysm.
The similarity with Matthew is, indeed, even more obvious when 1 En. 10 is read (as
Lars Hartman demonstrates it should be read) together with the judgment scene that
introduces the Book of the Watchers in 1 En. 1. The short account of the splitting of the
earth at 1 En. 10 finds a more elaborate complement in 1 En. 1:5–7. In this opening
theophany, 1 Enoch employs standard Old Testament images for God’s coming in judgment
—the same ones used in Matthew, at the death (and again at the resurrection) of Jesus:
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“And the high mountains will be shaken, … and the earth will be split apart in a cleaving,
by a chasm,” as the Greek puts it (καὶ σεισθήσονται … ὄρη ὑψηλά …
σεισθήσονται τὰ ἄκρα τῆς γῆς … καὶ διασχισθήσεται ἡ γῆ σχίσμα
ῥαγάδι, 1 En. 1:5–7, Grk; cf. Ethiopic: “Mountains and high places will fall down … and
earth shall be rent asunder …” [trans. E. Isaac]). Lars Hartman shows that 1 En. 1–5
provides the interpretive framework for the tale of rebel angels that follows: the cataclysm
that arrives for the rebel angels is an instance of the cataclysm to descend upon all the
unrighteous in 1 En. 1. In the “desert opened” in 10:4 so that Asael may be cast into it, in
the binding of the rebel angels in the “deep places of the earth” (τὰς νάπας τῆς γῆς),
we see the schism of the earth in 1 En. 1:7. In the judgment of the rebel angels in 1 En. 10
we see the judgment of the wicked in 1 En. 1, now linked in particular to the shedding of
innocent blood.
This is the logic of Matthew’s passion narrative. The blood of the innocent poured out
upon the earth cries out to heaven, bringing the cataclysm. The images, too, are found also
in Matthew: earthquake and rocks split or thrown down are used to describe the cataclysm
that follows upon innocent blood. Even the words Matthew uses parallel 1 Enoch
(ἐσείσθη / σεισθήσονται, Matt 27:51/1 En. 1:6; ἡ γῆ / τὰ ἄκρα τῆς γῆς, Matt
27:51/1 En. 1:6; ἐσχίσθησαν / διασχισθήσεται, Matt 27:51/1 En. 1:7). Though it is
true that these words are commonly used in the Old Testament for the day of God’s coming,
the pairing of these words with a cataclysm brought about by the shedding of innocent
blood is unique to Matthew and 1 Enoch. Indeed, Matthew’s description of the onlookers at
Jesus’ death is reminiscent of the reaction of the watchers at God’s coming in 1 Enoch. All
are afraid when the Holy One comes, 1 Enoch says (φοβηθήσονται πάντες, 1:5), and
are seized with trembling and great fear (φόβος μέγας, 1:5) and the Watchers will
believe (πιστεύσουσιν οἱ ἐγρήγοροι, 1:5): the description of the earth’s quaking
follows. At Jesus’ death the centurion and those keeping watch over Jesus are greatly afraid
(ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα, Matt 27:54) when they see the earth quake, and they say, “Truly
this man was Son of God” (ἀληθῶς θεοῦ υἱὸς ἦν οὗτος, Matt 27:54)—a statement
that is often read as a confession of faith, but seems, in light of 1 En. 1, more a statement of
the incontrovertible power of God. The reaction of the guards in Matthew parallels the
reaction of 1 Enoch’s Watchers: in the earth’s upheaval, those who watch recognize the
visitation of God, and are afraid.
d. αἷμα ἐκχυννόμενον: 1 Enoch 9:1 and Matthew 23:35
If Matthew and 1 Enoch describe the consequences of innocent blood in broadly the same
terms—as a cataclysm that shakes the earth, bringing fear and obeisance in its wake—the
most striking correspondence between them in the sequence of innocent blood and
cataclysm is a precise verbal echo. Both narratives announce the crisis of innocent blood in
virtually the same words. In 1 Enoch the archangels, looking down from heaven on the
havoc wrought upon the earth, see αἷμα πολὺ ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς (9:1). In
the culmination of his woes against the Pharisees, Jesus sums up the damage the leaders
have done on earth in terms of bloodshed: the murder of prophets and wise ones and scribes
crowns the Pharisees’ ἀνομία so that πᾶν αἷμα δίκαιον ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς
γῆς (“all the innocent blood poured out upon the earth”) will come upon them (Matt
23:35). Five of the seven words in this phrase in Matthew and in 1 Enoch are the same:
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αἷμα ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς. Even the words in which Matthew differs from 1
Enoch convey 1 Enoch’s meaning. In πᾶν as in πολύ there is an emphasis on the vastness
of the blood poured out. In Matthew’s addition of δίκαιον there is the crucial point—a
point never articulated in 1 Enoch but everywhere implied: this is innocent blood, the blood
of people helpless against their oppressors, τῶν ἀνθρώπων ἀπολλυμένων, blood that
raises a cry to heaven. The cry that goes up to heaven is a demand for justice: “the souls of
humans are bringing petition, saying, ‘Bring our case to the Most High’ ”
(ἐντυγχάνουσιν αἱ ψυχαὶ τῶν ἀνθρώπων λεγόντων Εἰσαγάγετε τὴν
κρίσιν ἡμων πρὸς τὸν ὕψιστον, 1 En. 9:1). Likewise, in 1 En. 7:6 the earth “makes
accusation” (ἐντυγχάνω) against the lawless and in 8:4 the cry of the dying goes up to
heaven. The blood that cries out to heaven is precisely “innocent blood”—wrongful death,
murder judicial or otherwise—and therefore it demands redress.
Indeed, Matthew is closer in his phrasing to 1 Enoch than to Luke 11:50–51, or “Q,”
usually thought to be Matthew’s source. Luke reads (ἵνα ἐκζητηθῇ) τὸ αἷμα πάντων
τῶν προφητῶν τὸ ἐκκεχυμένον ἀπὸ τῆς καταβολῆς κόσμου—replacing the
stark πᾶν / πολύ, with παντῶν τῶν προφητῶν, using the perfect participle instead
of the present and ἀπὸ καταβολῆς κόσμου instead of the concrete ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς. In
Luke, as a result, the sense of blood crying out from the ground to demand cleansing and so
to invite the cataclysm—that is, the whole significance of innocent blood in Matthew as in
1 Enoch—is missing. Luke also separates this passage from the lament over Jerusalem and
the apocalypse, again losing the logic of innocent blood that orders the narrative in both 1
Enoch and Matthew. The tight logic of Matthew’s sequence, from blood poured out on the
ground to the destruction of the holy place and the final catastrophe, is absent from Luke. It
is a logic central to 1 Enoch.
e. The Blood of Abel
There is a second precise correspondence between Matthew and 1 Enoch in the matter of
innocent blood. Both Matthew and 1 Enoch link this blood poured out to the blood of Abel.
For Matthew, the blood poured out upon the ground is paradigmatically the blood of Abel:
πᾶν αἷμα ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς ἀπὸ τοῦ αἵματος Ἅβελ τοῦ δικαίου
ἑώς τοῦ αἵματος Ζαχαρίου υἱοῦ Βαραχίου … (23:35). Abel is the first instance
and paradigm, and Zechariah the last, of the blood that cries out from the earth, blood of
prophets, wise ones and scribes, and finally of the crucified. For 1 Enoch, as we have seen
(above, pp. 105–10), the blood that cries out from the ground echoes the cry of the blood
shed in Gen 3 by Cain.
That the blood shed now by the Pharisees, even the blood of Jesus, is linked to the
blood of Abel is not self-evident. To make the link requires the kind of exegetical reflection
that Matthew does not do here, but that characterizes 1 En. 6–11. When, in 1 Enoch, the
archangels see αἷμα πολὺ ἐκχυννόμενον ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς (9:1), they describe this blood
—blood of the innocent devoured by the giants, blood of the people taught warfare by the
Watchers—in terms that recall the bloodshed of Cain (see above, pp. 105–7): “And they
said to each other, ‘The voice of those crying out upon the earth (φωνὴ βοώντων ἐπὶ
τῆς γῆς) goes up even to the gates of heaven.’ ” In Gen 4:10, the voice (φωνή, LXX) of
the blood (αἵματος) of the brother cries out (βοᾷ) to God from the earth (ἐκ τῆς γῆς).
By means of a close reading of Gen 9 and its command in the aftermath of the flood against
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shedding a “brother’s blood,” the violence (ἁδικία, ‫חמס‬, Gen 6:11) that brings on the
flood becomes specifically the violence of Cain: innocent blood, blood of a brother poured
out unjustly upon the ground. Indeed, 1 En. 22:7 names the voice that goes up to heaven
and makes an accusation: “the spirit of Abel whom Cain his brother has murdered.” The
blood of the perishing people crying out to heaven in 1 En. 9 is, here as in Matthew,
paradigmatically the blood of Abel.
It is surely no coincidence that Matthew makes precisely this link between innocent
blood and Abel in a passage whose wording echoes the wording of 1 En. 9:1 and in a
narrative that proceeds, like 1 Enoch, from the blood of Abel to cataclysm and the
apocalypse, an apocalypse, moreover, described finally as the flood:
Ὥσπερ γὰρ αἱ ἡμέραι τοῦ Νῶε, οὕτως ἔσται ἡ παρουσία τοῦ υἱοῦ
τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. ὡς γὰρ ἦσαν ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ἐκείναις ταῖς πρὸ
τοῦ κατακλυσμοῦ τρώγονωτες καὶ πίνοντες, γαμοῦντες καὶ
γαμίζοντες, ἄχρι ἧς ἡμέρας εἰσῆλθεν Νῶε εἰς τὴν κιβωτόν, καὶ
οὐκ ἔγνωσαν ἕως ἦλθεν ὁ κατακλυσμὸς καὶ ἦρεν ἅπαντας, οὕτως
ἔσται ἡ παρουσία τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. (24:37–39)
So innocent blood and flood and cataclysm form, in Matthew as in 1 Enoch, a narrative
complex moving from the blood of Abel to the last days.
f. Further Correspondences: The Prayer that is No Prayer and the Restoration
In two further details the narratives of Matthew and 1 Enoch resemble each other. Both
narratives interpose between the bloodshed of Cain and the cataclysm a prayer that is no
prayer, but the cry of innocent blood to the God who permits it. And in both stories the
cataclysm that follows upon this cry is also a restoration.
First, the cry. In 1 Enoch the archangels, seeing “much blood poured out upon the
earth,” say to God, “You are Lord of lords and God of Gods and King eternal … [B]ehold
the souls of those who have died cry out … [A]nd you see these things and allow them” ( 1
En. 9:4, 10, 11). In Matthew, Jesus, last of the righteous whose blood has been poured out
upon the earth, cries out in a loud voice as he is crucified, “My God, my God, why have
you forsaken me?” Jesus here quotes Ps 22 to make exactly the point the archangels make
in 1 En. 9: the blood that corrupts the earth and offends against the justice of God is poured
out and God is silent. Nor is there any plea, but simply the question: “Why, Lord of Lords?
Why, my God?”
We have seen that Matthew is like Susanna in this prayer: both Jesus and Susanna at the
point of death “cried out with a loud voice” (ἀνεβόησεν … φωνῇ μεγάλῃ, Matt
27:46; Sus θ 42). And we have seen that Susanna’s prayer echoes the prayer of 1 En. 9
even in its wording. Only these two prayers, of the many prayers to God at the point of
death in early Jewish literature, contain no petition, no plea for deliverance. This is true also
of Jesus’ prayer in Matthew. Jesus, like Susanna, like 1 Enoch’s angels, makes no plea but
sums up the anguish of innocent blood.
In Matthew, as in Susanna and 1 Enoch, the prayer is followed by the act of God. In
Susanna, Daniel, inspired by an angel, intervenes to save Susanna, and so innocent blood
was saved on that day. In 1 Enoch, God does not act until innocent blood has been shed. So,
too, in Matthew. Jesus dies, and the earth shakes and the rocks are split and the tombs are
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opened. Whereas in Susanna the act of God is this-worldly, the establishment of divine
justice in the garden through the young man Daniel, in Matthew, as in 1 Enoch, it shades
into the cosmic cataclysm of the last days.
It is first of all judgment: innocent blood spells devastation, the verdict of divine justice
upon the corrupted earth. It means, in the short run, the flood in 1 Enoch; in Matthew the
destruction of Jerusalem. These things, however, are signs and foretastes of the universal
judgment to come. In 1 Enoch the rebel angels, initially bound in the chasm in the earth, in
the last days are cast into the fiery pit. In Matthew the cosmic signs at Jesus’ death call up
the prophetic vision of God’s coming in the last days in judgment. These signs find, for
those who shed innocent blood, an ominous echo in the narrative of the resurrection. Again
the earth is shaken—ἰδοὺ σεισμὸς ἐγένετο μέγας (28:2). The guards, too, are shaken
at the coming of the angel of the Lord (ἐσείσθησαν οἱ τηροῦντες, Matt 28:4). They
are filled with fear (φόβος) and (in deliberate contrast to the holy ones who are raised at
the death of Jesus [27:52]) become as dead (ἐγενήθησαν ὡς νεκροί, 28:4). The fate of
the guards at Jesus’ resurrection, their corpse-like state, standing as it does opposite the
coming to life of the holy ones at Jesus’ death, suggests a judgment scene. For the Watchers
and the unrighteous in 1 Enoch, for the guards in Matthew, the shaking of the earth means
fear and destruction and even death (ἀπολέσει πάντας τοὺς ἀσεβεῖς, 1 En. 1:9, Grk;
ἀπόλεσον πάντα τὰ πνεύματα τῶν κιβδήλων καὶ τοὺς υἱοὺς τῶν
ἐγρηγόρων διὰ τὸ ἀδικῆσαι τοὺς ἀνθρώπους, 1 En. 10:15, Grk). The final
judgment of the earth announced in Jesus’ death, in Noah’s flood, falls already upon those
who deal in death, guards and rebel angels alike.
For the holy ones (ἅγιοι, Matt 27:52), however; for the righteous in 1 Enoch
(ἐκλεκτοὶ δίκαιοι, 1 En. 1:1; 10:17), the cataclysm means new life. 1 Enoch’s chosen
righteous will see peace and God’s light will shine upon them (1 En. 1:8); after the
destruction of all injustice and violence they will escape and be living (1 En. 10:17). The
saints in Matthew at the shaking of the earth rise from their tombs and walk. In Matthew as
in 1 Enoch the announcement of judgment means not destruction only, but also restoration.
Further, it is a restoration that touches not only the individual holy one, but the whole land.
1 Enoch gives us the image of a new Eden, the earth putting forth fruit a thousand-fold
while the trees are glad, an image born from the vision of the prophets, especially Ezekiel.
Likewise the vision of the time of restoration in Matthew springs from Ezekiel’s hope.
After Jesus’ resurrection, Matthew’s text tells us (as Jesus dies), “the tombs were opened
and many bodies of the holy ones who had fallen asleep were raised, and going out from
their tombs after his resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many” (Matt
27:52). Matthew’s meaning here depends on Ezek 37: though this striking proleptic
resurrection is reminiscent of a number of Old Testament passages linking the Day of
Judgment to the raising of the dead, the closest correspondence is with Ezekiel. There the
Lord says to the dry bones of the house of Israel, “I will open your tombs and lead you up
from your tombs and lead you into the land of Israel” (ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ ἀνοίγω ὑμῶν τὰ
μνήματα καὶ ἀνάξω ὑμᾶς ἐκ τῶν μνημάτων ὑμῶν καὶ εἰσάξω ὑμᾶς εἰς
τὴν γὴν τοῦ Ισραηλ …, LXX 37:12). Matthew has the same three-stage action: the
tombs are opened (τὰ μνημεῖα ἀνεῷχθησαν [27:52], the passive indicating God’s act)
and the holy ones come out of their tombs and go into the holy city.
Moreover, in Ezekiel as in Matthew the rising from the tombs is coordinated with τὸ
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πνεῦμα. In Ezekiel God commands τὸ πνεῦμα to breathe into these dead bodies and let
them live (Ezek 37:9–10). To the bones God promises, “I will put my spirit within you and
you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil.” In Matthew Jesus gives up the spirit
(τὸ πνεῦμα, rather emphatically; contrast Mark and Luke’s ἐξέπνευσεν, which might
be read simply, as in the NRSV, “breathed his last”) and at that moment the dead are raised.
In his giving up the spirit there is life for the dead.
In Ezekiel this is an image of restoration for Israel. The bones given new life are “the
whole house of Israel” (πᾶς οἶκος Ισραηλ, Ezek 37:11), and it is into the land of Israel
that the risen ones go (εἰς τῆν γῆν τοῦ Ισραηλ, 37:12). This is the land that the people
defiled by blood and by idolatry, so that the land cast out its people, so that the people
became dry bones in a dry valley (cf. Ezek 36:17–19 MT). God’s promise is that the
desolate land shall bloom again and the exiled people shall dwell in it:
The land that was desolate shall be tilled (ἡ γῆ ἠφανισμένη ἐργασθήσεται),
instead of being the desolation (ἠφανισμένη) that it was in the sight of all who
passed by. And they will say, “This land that was desolate has become like the
garden of Eden; and the waste and desolate and ruined towns (αἱ πόλεις αἱ
ἔρημοι …) are now inhabited …” I, the Lord, have replanted (κατεφύτευσα)
that which was desolate (τὰς ἠφανισμένας). (36:34–36)
When Matthew calls up Ezekiel’s vision of the tombs opening and the dead rising he calls
up also its scope. It is into the holy city that the risen ones go: it is Israel that is at issue
here, and Jerusalem that sees new life. In Ezekiel it is the land that has been defiled by
blood so that it is a desolation that is restored when the dry bones rise. Matthew, too, ties
the resurrection of the holy ones to the restoration of the land defiled by blood. The tombs,
he says, are opened (τὰ μνημεῖα ἀνεώχθησαν, 27:52) and the bodies of the holy ones
who have fallen asleep are raised. The tombs of the holy ones are, in Matt 23, precisely the
sign of the pollution of the land. “You adorn the tombs of the righteous (τὰ μνημεῖα
τῶν δικαίων),” Jesus says to the Pharisees, “… and you say, ‘If we had lived in the day
of our fathers, we would not have shared with them in the blood of the prophets.’ So you
bear witness to yourselves that you are sons of those who murdered the prophets …
Therefore I send to you prophets and wise ones and scribes; some of them you will kill and
crucify … so that upon you may come all the innocent blood poured out upon the land,
from the blood of Abel the righteous.…” (23:29–31). The tombs of the righteous witness to
innocent blood poured out upon the land, blood that comes upon the people’s head, blood
that leaves Jerusalem desolate (ἔρημος, 23:37–38). Now at the resurrection these very
tombs are opened and the righteous, the holy ones, return to Jerusalem—the city called now
not ἔρημος but ἅγια πόλις. The effect of innocent blood, in Matthew as in Ezekiel, is
overturned—by the act of God, in the resurrection made known at Jesus’ death—for the
good of Jerusalem.
g. Only the Holy
Thus far Matthew’s vision resounds with Ezekiel’s hope. But in one respect Matthew
differs from Ezekiel. In Matthew, in contrast to Ezekiel, it is οἱ ἅγιοι, the holy ones in
particular, who rise and go out from their tombs into the holy city. Nowhere in the Old
Testament promises of resurrection and restoration that Matthew echoes do we see this kind
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of specification. The resurrection is always general. “Your dead shall live, their corpses
shall rise!” Isaiah says (26:19). “Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall
awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt” (Dan 12:2).
“Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel … I am going to open your graves, and
bring you up from your graves, O my people …” (Ezek 37:11–12).
In 1 Enoch, however, we find the same kind of focus on the righteous in the context of
restoration. 1 Enoch moves, like Matthew, from cataclysm to restoration. And it is the
righteous alone who have a share in the earth’s new life. Once the rebel angels have been
cast into the fiery chaos and the giants have been slaughtered and injustice destroyed, then
the righteous will escape and live: καὶ νῦν πάντες οἱ δίκαιοι ἐκφεύξονται καὶ
ἔσονται ζῶντες (10:17). This is not quite a resurrection in 1 En. 10, but it could be read
that way: it is a vision of life beyond the changes and chances of this temporal life, bliss
envisaged as a new creation.
The new creation is an Eden restored: the gifts of the first garden appear again on the
earth. Long life (taken away in Gen 6:3) belongs again to the righteous (10:17); the earth
produces its fruits in abundance (11:19) and “a tree is planted in it” (10:18). The earth, this
time, is filled not with curse but with blessing. It is a vision inspired in part, as we have
seen, by Ezek 36, where the land that was desolate becomes, on the day that God cleanses
the people, “like the garden of Eden.” “I will save you from all your uncleannesses,” God
says to the people through the prophet, and the grain and the fruit of the tree and the
produce of the field will be abundant (Ezek 36:29–30) and the people will increase like a
flock (36:37). So in 1 Enoch the people will bear thousands (10:18), and the vine and seed
and olive will yield ten- and one thousand-fold (10:19), and the earth will be cleansed from
every uncleanness, and violence, and sin and impiety (10:20). 1 Enoch finds in Ezekiel, as
in Isaiah and Zechariah, a pattern for the end-time bliss, as Matthew finds in the same
chapters of Ezekiel the pattern of the resurrection hope. In 1 Enoch, as in Matthew—but not
in Ezekiel—it is a bliss prepared specifically for the righteous.
Matthew’s proleptic resurrection scene thus resonates with the vision of 1 Enoch,
permeated by Ezekiel in its promise of restoration for the land, a restoration that overturns
the land’s uncleanness. At Jesus’ death and resurrection the tombs that carry the curse of
innocent blood are opened and the righteous dead go out; in 1 Enoch’s apocalypse the
righteous “escape out” and the land is cleansed from violence and from every impurity. And
it is, in Matthew as in 1 Enoch, only the holy who are saved. Why should Matthew, who
owes so much to Isaiah and Daniel and Ezekiel in his resurrection scene, limit that
resurrection to the holy? Because he sees with eyes shaped by 1 Enoch, in which the new
creation, the time of the land’s cleansing, is for the righteous alone.
Conclusion
Matthew thus creates a narrative in which innocent blood and flood and cataclysm form an
ancient and constant progression that begins with the blood of Abel and opens out into final
judgment and restoration. It is a narrative to which the problem of blood poured out upon
the land is central. It envisages a land made desolate by the blood poured out upon it and
crying out for healing. It sees in the desolate land the folly and the violence of the powers-
that-be, who pervert their proper role and lead the people astray. And it finds in the cry of
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innocent blood—in the voice of the perishing people, in the prayer of Susanna, in the cry of
Jesus at his death—the catalyst for cleansing. At this cry God acts, in a cataclysm that is
both the earth’s destruction and its new beginning.
If Matthew finds in Susanna’s tale of innocent blood a pattern for his own, he goes
beyond Susanna’s very human fable to the cosmic and apocalyptic roots of her story in 1
Enoch. If our ears are attuned to the echoes of 1 Enoch we will be able to understand the
fundamental features of Matthew’s narrative: its sweep—running from Abel to the
eschaton; its urgency—for the land is stained by blood and cries out for cleansing; its
condemnation of the authorities—for they are dangerous and violent teachers and they
bring blood upon the people; and its eschatological hope for the people and for the land, as
well as that hope’s limitation—for only the holy go into the land. Matthew’s narrative lives
in a world in which 1 Enoch’s story of blood and flood and new creation is real and
explanatory. In its reflection on the primordial history of Genesis, 1 Enoch illuminates for
Matthew the world.
So we come full circle. For the world that speaks from the Gospel text, “Matthew’s
world,” is a world shaped and molded by the scriptures of Israel, and by their interpretive
history in the literature of early Judaism. To say that Matt 27:24–25 is “a historical fiction”;
to find its explanation in a socio-historical situation of division and hostility between
“Matthew’s community” and the contemporary Jewish community, is to miss the scriptural
and interpretive web that informs it. It is to miss its rootedness in a Jewish tradition of
reflection on the problem of Israel’s suffering and the devastation of the land. Pilate’s
interchange with the people at the crucial moment of Jesus’ trial rises out of this tradition,
out of the narrative of innocent blood and its history and consequences that shapes 1 Enoch
and Susanna. When Pilate attempts to wash his hands of Jesus’ innocent blood, when the
people take blood upon their own heads, they stand in the tradition of rampaging giants and
perishing people, of corrupt judges and a people caught up without their own knowledge in
shedding innocent blood, the tradition that speaks from 1 Enoch and Susanna and that
issues not only in judgment but also in restoration.
In this perspective, the term “anti-Jewish” is not hermeneutically useful. This is a
narrative about Israel, told by the people who read the Scriptures of Israel, from within an
interpretive tradition that belongs to the communities of Israel. And it speaks finally a word
of hope. If it takes corruption and the cost of corruption seriously, it takes seriously also the
promises of God: Gen 1 and 9 and the new creation, Isaiah and Ezekiel and the hope of
creation restored. It is a hope for the land and the people of God, for the cleansing of the
land that has been defiled by blood, for the new life of the holy people in the holy city. In
Matthew it is a hope realized—at the moment of the death and resurrection of Jesus—in the
return to Jerusalem. To read Matthew in the perspective of 1 Enoch and Susanna is thus to
find easy demarcations between “Matthean” and “Jewish” communities, as well as the
charge of anti-Judaism, thrown into question. It is to discover a vision that incorporates the
story of “Jesus called the Christ” into an ancient narrative of blood and secrets, of the
pollution and restoration of the land, rooted in the Scriptures of Israel and in a long
tradition of reflection upon them in the communities of early Judaism. It is to say, too, that
there is in Matthew no justification for Christian anti-Judaism: the story of Jesus, for the
Gospel, is inextricably and centrally the story of Israel and of the Jewish people.
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THE RIDDLE OF THE HOLY ONES IN MATTHEW 27:51B–53: A
NEW PROPOSAL FOR A CRUX INTERPRETUM
Jens Herzer
1. An Enigmatic Text—The Problem

There are texts in the Bible that remain enigmatic in spite of the fact that their context has
been subject to intensive exegetical research. One of them is Matt 27:51b–53, a passage
unique to the Matthean passion narrative, having no parallel in other Gospel traditions.
Matthew here expands the concomitants of Jesus’ death known from the Gospel of Mark—
darkness and the tearing of the temple curtain—by signs that seem to underline the
apocalyptic character of Jesus’ death.
The short episode about the earthquake that opened the graves, from which the
“resurrected bodies of many saints who had died” rose in order to appear—if only after his
resurrection—“in the holy city” has troubled interpreters ever since Matthew decided to
place it just here in his story. The enigmatic character of the passage stimulates the
speculative potential of interpretations, and many of them assign more significance to the
text than it actually entails. This does not only refer to details of the story but also to the
meaning of the story as a whole within the context of the Matthean account of Jesus’ death.
For a reader of the twenty-first century, the episode on the resurrection of the “sleeping
hallows” may at first glance look like a Halloween thriller, a whimsical ghost story like
many others from antiquity to the present time. The interpretations of Matt 27, however,
evaluate this “resurrection of the holy ones” rather positively: the death of Jesus, so the
tenor of scholarly arguments, marks an eschatological and apocalyptic turning point in the
history of salvation, which emblematically inaugurates the eschatological resurrection of
the dead. Of course, as the text mysteriously notes, this occurs only after his resurrection.
A brief overview may illustrate the most important positions. Adolf Schlatter reads Matt
27 from the λύτρον-saying in Matt 20:28 and points particularly to the soteriological
meaning of Jesus’ death: the appearance of the saints explains that the death of Jesus is a
λύτρον because a first resurrection is connected with his death as a sign of the coming
aeon. Joachim Gnilka argues that Matthew wants to prove Jesus’ death and resurrection as
the foundation of the new life of the believers. In his extensive interpretation of the
passage, Raymond Brown interprets the apocalyptic signs as an illustration of the “partial
fulfilment of the divine judgement.” The most common view interprets the resurrection of
the holy ones as a prolepsis of the eschatological resurrection of the dead and a sign for the
raising of the new aeon and the triumph of the new life over death: “Vv. 51b–53
harmonizes with what we otherwise know of primitive Christian theology. In the earliest
period Jesus’ resurrection was closely joined to the general resurrection.” Some scholars
even argue for an interpretation in terms of a realized eschatology.
An important argument for such eschatological-apocalyptic readings of Matt 27:51b–53
is the parallel story about the opening of Jesus’ tomb and the message of his resurrection in
Matt 28:2–10. As plausible as an interpretation in light of Matt 28 may seem, such an
endeavour raises questions that bring the interpretative problems of the story to light. Why
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does Matthew not tell this episode in the context of ch. 28, namely, after Jesus’ resurrection,
especially since he anchors it chronologically at this very point in time—“after his
resurrection”? Why does he intertwine the resurrection of the saints and the resurrection of
Jesus in such a peculiar way? Do the motifs of Matt 27:51b–53 actually indicate a prolepsis
of the eschatological resurrection of the dead? Or do they rather refer to a partial and
limited return only of some to mundane life in order to make an appearance in the holy
city? And if so, why? Who are actually meant to be the “many saints”? Who are “the many”
to whom these holy ones appear? What exactly is the reference of the “holy city”—the
earthly city of Jerusalem or the heavenly? There are lots of questions still unanswered.
In what follows, I would like to offer a reading that so far has not been considered
among scholars, yet seems interesting with regard to the literary setting of this peculiar text
within the Jesus story in Matthew. In this respect, the intra-narrative “local color” and the
intratextual references play a key role, in which Matthew assumes his readers to follow
him. As we will see, the common search for traditional motifs is important and
indispensable for interpreting this passage. Yet, this search for motifs must not be detached
from the question of the text’s literary anchorage within the broader plot of the story. This is
particularly important with regard to texts that in themselves remain unclear. Thus, there is
a strong methodological risk attached to searching for some possible parallels and to
transferring the meaning of these parallels into the supposedly unclear text. But to find any
possible parallels or allusions does not necessarily provide an appropriate background in
order to interpret a text which does not give explicit hints to those parallels. The very
different and sometimes contradictory explanations point to this methodological problem.
Thus, I propose that the significance of Matt 27:51b–53 cannot be unlocked by an
eschatological-apocalyptic interpretation based on traditional motifs or parallels, but only
by an interpretation from the context of Matthew’s Gospel and its christological and
martyrological concept. An important reference point for my interpretation is the veneration
of the tombs of the prophets and saints in the popular belief of contemporary Judaism. This
reference is not only meaningful because of the tombs of saints in Jerusalem and its
vicinity, but—and this is crucial—because it is explicitly anchored in Matthew’s story.
2. The Contribution of Source-Critical Observations

Scholars have expended a lot of source-critical effort in an attempt to extract a core story
which Matthew may have received from the tradition and inserted into his narrative. The
results of these enquiries vary considerably and, in my view, are hardly plausible, especially
since they do not determine the function and significance of the episode within the context
of Matthew’s Gospel, and since they also fail to provide any answer to the question why
Matthew would have inserted this piece at this very point of the narrative.
Whereas Philipp Seidensticker and Wolfgang Trilling assume a Christian Easter
fragment, Wolfgang Schenk reconstructs a Jewish-apocalyptical hymn, which has been
edited by Matthew. Delvin Hutton supposes a Passion tradition that formed the common
Vorlage for the Gospel of Peter and Matthew’s Gospel. According to Raymond Brown, the
Evangelist expanded a given “poetic piece” (Matt 27:51b–52b) on eschatological
phenomena at the death of Jesus by inserting v. 53.
Indicators for reconstructions of certain pre-texts are usually the interruption of the
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Markan narrative and particularly the characteristics of the passage in terms of language,
for example the paratactic use of καί, the non-Matthean style (passive verbs), or the term
ἔγερσις, which is unique in the New Testament. Particularly difficult is the phrase μετὰ
τὴν ἔγερσιν αὐτοῦ. In literary reconstructions it is mostly seen as a Matthean addition
to the traditional piece. Those who attribute the whole passage to Matthew as its author,
mostly identify it as a gloss or a “dogmatic correction,” which corrects the chronology
because according to references like 1 Cor 15:20 or Col 1:18 the resurrection of the holy
ones can only happen after “his” (Jesus’) resurrection. This solution, however, would insert
a Pauline idea into the Gospel of Matthew, and is thus implausible for the first Evangelist.
The implausibility would be even higher, if Matthew himself is responsible for this phrase.
These considerations suggest that the reconstruction of earlier traditional pieces do not
improve the understanding of the passage of Matt 27:51b–53 within the context of the
crucifixion narrative, not least because the meaning of the reconstructed tradition depends
on the conditions of the reconstruction itself and their assumed character (Christian, Jewish,
apocalyptic, and so on). In terms of methodology, one also has to be careful with
considerations about realistic aspects of the story, for example, questions such as: What
exactly have the soldiers seen? When have the dead been resurrected? When did they come
out of the graves? when did they appear in the city? To what does the phrase “after his
resurrection” refer? Where have the saints been in the meantime? In the graves or only at
the graves? Or did they immediately go to Jerusalem? All these questions are highly
speculative, not to mention their respective answers. There can be reasonable doubt
whether Matthew intended to raise those questions to his audience at all. By now, we would
rather assume that with the literary character and shape of the episode the Evangelist aims
at pointing his readers to a certain intertextual relation.
3. The Yield of Traditional Parallels

Apart from source-critical hypotheses, there are motifs from different traditions that played
an important role in the interpretation of our passage. Such parallels would of course also
have an impact on the assumed formation of earlier pre-Matthean versions of the text.
However, on the basis of the assumption that Matthew himself created this passage we
could conclude that he might have had traditional motifs in mind that would hint at the
intention of his new text. Thus, the conclusion would be that by identifying the motifs from
tradition and their assumed intention we would most probably unlock the meaning of the
passage.
In the interpretation of Matt 27, the identified parallels come from Early-Jewish
writings as well as from the Greco-Roman world: for example, Vergil’s poem Georgica
1.466–97, which mentions an earthquake at Caesar’s death accompanied by darkness and
the destruction of graves (1.497: effosis sepulcris), an apparition of the dead (καὶ νεκρῶν
εἴδωλα ἐφαντάζετο) at the conquest of Alexandria by the Romans reported by Dio
Cassius 51.17.5, or a similar story by Ovid, Metamorphoses 7.2.205, which records the
shaking of the mountains (tremescere montes) and coming of the “Manes” out of the graves
(manesque exire sepulcris). All of these alleged parallels impressively illustrate that an
ancient reader would not find such stories strange. Such parallels, however, do not
illuminate the understanding of Matt 27:51b–53 in its current Gospel context. A similar
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evaluation pertains to Old Testament and Hellenistic-Jewish parallels: earthquakes,
darkness, and so on, are classical concomitants of a theophany and, as such, signs of divine
judgment (cf. Judg 5:4; 2 Sam 22:8; Ps 68:9; Isa 5:25; 24:18; Jer 4:23; 8:16; Ezek 38:19;
Joel 2:10; T. Levi 3:9; 1 En. 1:3–8) or signs of apocalyptic times (Zech 14:4–5; 1 En. 1:6;
51:4).
Scholars often attribute specific significance to the vision of Israel’s revival from the
tombs and its return from exile to the land in Ezek 37:
I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people;
and I will bring you back to the land of Israel (ἐγὼ ἀνοίγω ὑμῶν τὰ
μνήματα καὶ ἀνάξω ὑμᾶς ἐκ τῶν μνημάτων ὑμῶν καὶ εἰσάξω ὑμᾶς
εἰς τὴν γῆν τοῦ Ισραηλ). (Ezek 37:12)
In the course of tradition, Ezek 37 advanced to a rather graphic scenario of an individual

resurrection belief in Pharisaic circles, which found its genuine expression in the wall
painting of the synagogue in Dura Europos dating to the third century C.E. One has to note,
however, that the description of the bones to which new flesh and skin grow is only a
metaphor of Israel’s revival, and only the Pharisaic reception made it refer to the
reconstitution of the dead during resurrection. In Matthew, however, this motif does not
play a role at all, not even allusively, since with the term σῶμα he simply uses the
common expression for a corpse.
Some scholars expand the traditional context of the motif by referring to Zech 14:4–5,
since this passage connects the splitting of the Mount of Olives during God’s arrival for
judgment with the leading of the holy ones into the city (καὶ ἥξει κύριος ὁ θεός μου
καὶ πάντες οἱ ἅγιοι μετʼ αὐτοῦ). In contrast, Ezek 37 speaks only of the people’s
return “to the land of Israel” (37:12) and thus does not sufficiently explain all the motifs in
Matt 27:51b–53. Therefore, scholars have also pointed to Isa 26:19 in order to illustrate the
motif of the appearance “to many” in Matt 27:53. Another verse that is often understood as
a potential source of motifs is Dan 12:2.
Against this traditional background, the combination of the motifs of earthquake,
opening of graves, revival of saints and their appearance in the holy city seems to suggest
an apocalyptic reading of Matt 27:51b–53: the resurrection of the “sleeping hallows” marks
the dawn of a new aeon in the history of salvation and is thus a fulfilment of Scripture.
This kind of apocalyptical reading is, however, problematic, not only because of the
cumulative character of the argument, which merges different motifs from different
traditions, but also because of the fact that not every theophany is of apocalyptic nature,
and not every apocalyptic sign is part of a theophany. If motifs from scripture are essential
for understanding the episode, and if fulfilment of Scripture would be the motivation of the
Evangelist in adding v. 53, then it is at least significant that Matthew does not mention any
such reference, although the fulfilment of Scripture is particularly characteristic of his
Gospel. Therefore it is very unlikely that the events following the death of Jesus can be
understood as fulfilment of scripture in Matthew.
From these considerations, the value of the assumed references to traditional motifs is
very limited and they do not help to find the meaning of the passage. Therefore, a closer
look at the broader context of the gospel is necessary in order to avoid inscribing a meaning
into the passage that stems from only assumed parallels.
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With regard to the earthquake, Ingrid Maisch has pointed out that Matthew consciously
goes beyond his Markan Vorlage by inserting this motif into the story and even changing
the given text of the Vorlage. Even the hapax legomenon ἔγερσις in 27:53, a description
of the resurrection of Jesus that is mostly considered non-Matthean, can easily be seen as an
ad-hoc formulation by Matthew, since Matthew prefers the stem εγερ-. This is not only
obvious from the immediate context on the resurrection of the holy ones in 27:52, but also
from his consequent changes of the Markan Vorlage from the stem ανιστ- to the stem
εγερ- in the announcements of the passion (16:21; 17:23; 20:19) as well as in the story of
the transfiguration (17:9). Even the proclamation of the appearances μετὰ δὲ τὸ
ἐγερθῆναί με in 26:32 (cf. Mark 14:28) parallels 27:53.
In sum, the proposed motifs from various traditions illuminate the literary possibility
that Matthew himself was capable of writing the passage Matt 27:51b–53. While these
parallels must not be over-interpreted as keys to the interpretation of the passage within the
Gospel of Matthew, they do have to be related to the literary purpose. This purpose,
however, depends primarily on the intratextual traces and propositions the author provides
for his readers. The similarities of the passage to resurrection motifs in Ezek 37, Isa 26:19,
Dan 12:2 or even Zech 14:4–5 does not suggest a direct reference of the author to those
texts; that is to say, they do not suffice to shape the meaning of his story. These references
rather provide a certain traditional pharisaic or even apocalyptical background that focuses
on the common belief in a bodily resurrection from the graves, which is shared by Matthew.
Yet, the resurrection of the holy ones as such is not the main focus of the episode, as often
argued. The particular meaning of the passage is closely connected to the death of Jesus,
narrated immediately before.
4. The Tombs of the “Sleeping Hallows” as Key to Understand Matthew

27:51b–53
An appropriate interpretation should consider the following narrative aspects in relation to
each other. The emphasis on the opening of the “graves of the sleeping saints,” the fact that
“many” sleeping “saints” have been resurrected, the close connection to the “holy city,” the
appearances of (only) “many saints” before “many” in the city, and not least the literary
context in which the dying of the “Son of God” (27:54) is much more emphasized than in
the Markan Vorlage.
Thus, the resurgence of the saints’ bodies from the graves is specifically related to the
death of Jesus, because it is one of the signs that—along with the fall of darkness, the
rupture of the Temple curtain, and the earthquake—appear immediately after his death. The
resurgence of the saints is one image used to illustrate the meaning of the death of Jesus as
the son of God as it is prepared throughout the Gospel. It is also important to note that the
episode does not speak of a general resurrection of the dead, but only of “many saints” who
appear in the city. Which “all saints” should Matthew’s readers think of? Finally, the term
ἅγιοι is not used elsewhere in Matthew in relation to persons. Therefore, the meaning is
defined by the semantic setting in which the term appears—tombs, sleeping saints, raising
of their bodies—and, most importantly, their relation to the holy city.
A particular problem is the identification of the holy ones coming out of the opened
tombs. Significantly, Matthew does not generally speak of “all saints,” but only of “many.”
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Some scholars have identified them with the “ἅγιοι of the Old Covenant” or the
“Righteous of the Old Covenant,” while others have opted for the holy angels or even the
ruptured heroes of the past. With regard to Dan 7:18–27, one could also think of the pious
and just members of God’s people, who are suffering from evil according to 1 Macc 1:46
and Dan 7:25 but will finally be saved by God. Being aware of the speculative character of
these proposals, Joachim Gnilka suggested thinking of the prophets and righteous ones
mentioned in Matt 23:29, who suffered and were killed, but now have been released from
death by the death of Jesus and bear witness to the inhabitants of Jerusalem.
This interesting suggestion of Gnilka has not been followed so far, although it does give
an important clue to an appropriate interpretation. If all the aspects mentioned above are in
any way significant for the understanding of Matthew’s story, the motif of sleeping saints
and the twofold remark on their tombs prompts the readers of Matthew to think, indeed, of
Matt 23:29–33 (NRSV):
Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you build the tombs of the
prophets and decorate the graves of the righteous, and you say, “If we had lived in
the days of our ancestors, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the
blood of the prophets.” Thus you testify against yourselves that you are
descendants of those who murdered the prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of your
ancestors. You snakes, you brood of vipers! How can you escape being sentenced to
hell?
Jesus talks about the tombs of the Prophets and the Righteous and he accuses the Pharisees
of hypocrisy: they venerate the tombs of the Prophets, but in so doing they only disguise
the fact that they are responsible for the violent death of those whom they revere. And Jesus
is clear about the consequences: they are guilty and doomed of God’s judgment. Thus,
Matthew clearly depicts Jesus as a prophet of doom, who announces God’s judgment over
the Pharisees and those who are responsible for the death of the righteous ones.
As far as I can see, the intra-textual meaning of Jesus’ chastisement against the
Pharisees has never been seriously considered in the interpretation of Matt 27, although
there are further elements that underscore this specific relationship between both texts. In
Matt 27, as well as in Matt 23, the saints, that is, the righteous, are already dead and their
tombs play a significant role. In ch. 23, the mission of the prophets to Jerusalem builds the
most important focus, and it is Jerusalem that kills the prophets sent to it (23:37).
Furthermore, Matthew explicitly relates the fate of the prophets to the fate of Jesus: he
himself will be killed by “Jerusalem,” that is, by those who represent the city.
It has to be noted that Matthew in ch. 27 does not pick up the same terms “prophets” or
“righteous” he uses in ch. 23. Although this might not be significant at all, there may be
different reasons for this variation. First, if Matt 27:51b–53 stemmed from an earlier
tradition, the term ἅγιοι could simply be part of the tradition. Yet, even as a traditional
term it must have made some sense to Matthew within the context of his Gospel. However,
“prophets,” “righteous,” and “holy ones” thoroughly belong to the same semantic field. The
terms “righteous” and “holy” are even used synonymously. In Wis 7:27, for example, the
wisdom of God infuses “holy souls” (εἰς ψυχὰς ὁσίας) and renders them “friends of
God and prophets” (φίλους θεοῦ καὶ προφήτας). In Rev 11:18, 16:6, and 18:24 the
phrase “holy ones and prophets” stands for the killed servants of God (cf. also 18:20: “holy
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ones and apostles and prophets”). And finally, the term ἅγιοι in Matt 27:51b–53
corresponds to the adjunct ἅγιος used for Jerusalem. From this perspective, the term
ἅγιοι in Matt 27:52 summarizes the various terms given in Matt 23. Thus, the variation
from “prophets and righteous ones” in Matt 23:29 to “holy ones” in ch. 27 is at least
plausible, even if Matt 27:51b–53 is not part of a tradition.
Besides the semantic aspects there are also narrative features that connect Matt 27 and
23. In Matt 27:51b–53 as well as in ch. 23 it is important that the persons in view are
already dead and their graves are mentioned. In the immediate context of Matt 23:29, vv. 34
and 37 speak of the mission of the “prophets, wise and scribes” to Israel and particularly to
Jerusalem. It is Jerusalem that does not believe the words of the prophets and kills them, a
fate which the Evangelist explicitly assigns also to Jesus. And it is in Jerusalem that the
tombs of the prophets and the righteous ones are located and hypocritically venerated by
the “pharisees and scribes.” With all these narrative elements Matthew goes far beyond
Mark’s version of the story and thus highlights the mission of Jesus particularly to Israel
and to Jerusalem in the tradition of the prophets.
In the context of the Matthean Jesus-story, the appearance of the “many saints” coming
out of their tombs in Jerusalem has a significant affinity to ch. 23, which again for Matthew
has a significant meaning. Jerusalem, who killed the prophets, has also killed Jesus (cf. also
Matt 21:33–44). Thus, we are led to conclude that the appearance of the holy ones in the
holy city has something to do with Matthew’s understanding of the death of Jesus as the
result of his mission to Israel, just as Jesus himself pointed out in his speech about the
prophets in Matt 23. The “sleeping hallows” of Matt 23 are those who have been killed in
Jerusalem and whose tombs are still venerated, who appear to “many” in the holy city after
the crucifixion of the “last saint” Jesus, the Son of God, who was also killed by Jerusalem.
And thus, the “many,” to whom the saints appear, are most likely those, who are
responsible for the death of Jesus. They appear in the city as witnesses of Jesus’ death in
order to accuse those who are responsible for his violent fate, just as Jesus accused them of
killing the prophets. Matthew stylistically places the appearance of the saints “after his
resurrection” in order to show that it is only Jesus’ resurrection that justifies him and proves
him to be killed as the innocent Son of God. This underlines again the prophecy of doom in
ch. 23 upon those who are guilty of killing the Son of God. This interpretation also
corresponds to the salvific meaning of the death of Jesus as it is announced from the
beginning of the Gospel and culminates on the cross. In Matt 1:21, the name of Jesus is
explained as “the one who will save his people from their sins.” Then, Matthew replaces
the saying about the forgiveness of sins from the baptism of John the Baptist into the words
of the last supper (cf. Mark 1:1–4 with Matt 3:1–2 and 26:28). Finally, again in addition to
Mark, Matthew extends the titulus on the cross by inserting the name of Jesus and thus
highlights its meaning a final time: “This is Jesus, the King of the Jews” (οὗτός ἐστιν
Ἰησοῦς ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν Ἰουδαίων, 27:37; cf. Mark 15:26: ὁ βασιλεὺς τῶν
Ἰουδαίων). The reference to the beginning of the Gospel is obvious. Thus, the confession
of the soldiers gets a special meaning: Jesus, who was sent to Israel in order to save his
people from their sins and who was condemned by “all the people” (Matt 27:25) and killed
by Jerusalem—he, indeed, is the Son of God.
Given the intratextual correlation between Matt 27:51b–53 and the speech against the
Pharisees in ch. 23, there is one further consideration supporting this line of argument.
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More than fifty years ago, Joachim Jeremias wrote about the veneration of the
“Heiligengräber in Jesu Umwelt,” the tombs of the prophets and kings in Jerusalem
representing the archaeological background of Matt 23:29. Pieter van der Horst recently
supported this view with further evidence. With regard to this archaeological evidence, the
“complexion” of Matt 27:51b–53 could be particularly interesting. In the vicinity of
Jerusalem we would have to think of the tombs of the prophet Hulda (2 Kgs 22:14; 2 Chr
34:22), the prophets Isaiah (Liv. Pro. 1:1, 9; cf. Ascen. Isa. 5:11–14), Haggai (Liv. Pro.
14.2), Zechariah ben Jojada (2 Chr 24:20–22; Liv. Pro. 23:1) and also Zechariah ben
Berechja (Liv. Pro. 15:6), some of whom have been venerated as martyrs. Not only
prophets but also other “wise,” “righteous” or “scribes” have been venerated in their tombs,
including the High Priest Simon the Just (cf. Sir 50) and, according to Josephus (Ant.
11.158), also the biblical Ezra. Besides, we also find the traditions of the tombs of such
Israelite kings as Hiskia (2 Chr 32:33), but most importantly the tombs of the Davidic
dynasty. The “Holy Ones” are believed to be bodily present in their graves, from where
they act as miracle workers and intercessors. The tombs of these Holy Ones are the
destination of pilgrimages.
5. Conclusion: The Death of the Son of God and the Tombs of the Saints, or:
What Matthew Expects From His Readers
The significance of the tombs of the prophets in Matt 23 and the tombs of the “sleeping
hallows” of Matt 27 for Matthew’s story is impressively illustrated by the traditions of the
tombs of the “big ones” of Israel’s history. However, these traditions of the prophets’ tombs
do not only illuminate Matt 23:29–33, but also Matt 27:51b–53 in its intratextual relation to
ch. 23. Matthew expects from his readers not to have in mind all possible texts or traditions
that deal with similar apocalyptic signs and motifs in order to understand the mysterious
story of the saints at the death of Jesus. First of all, he expects—as every writer does—that
they follow the plot of the story he tells. In his Gospel, the salvific meaning of the death of
Jesus plays an important role from the very beginning. He starts with the explanation of the
name of Jesus in Matt 1:21, inserts the topic of the forgiving impact of his death in 26:28,
and again the name of Jesus on the titulus of the cross in the crucifixion scene (27:37).
According to Matthew, Jesus’ death is the consequence of his mission to Israel and it is
explained by the parallel of the violent fate of the prophets and the righteous ones of Israel
who are sent to the people (cf. Matt 21:33–46). Jesus dies the same death, and yet his death
is more than theirs, for the “sleeping saints” raise and become witnesses of the one who is
dying on the cross and whose death saves his people from their sins.
Thus, in the plot of Matthew’s Gospel, the resurrection of the saints and their
appearance in the holy city is not a prolepsis of the eschatological resurrection. Rather, their
appearance underlines the meaning of the death of Jesus as the consequence and the
purpose of his mission to Israel. At the same time, the resurrected saints accuse those who
are responsible for his death, just as Jesus did with the Pharisees in Matt 23. It is, however,
Matthew himself who provides a clear concept for his readers. And if they read carefully
and follow his narrative, they are finally able to understand the otherwise mysterious
“riddle of the Holy Ones.”
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MESSIANIC EXEGESIS IN MARK 1:2–3
Jocelyn McWhirter
Mark famously begins his gospel with two incomplete sentences. The first introduces his
work as good news about Jesus, the Messiah. The second contains a citation of Israel’s
Scriptures:
As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,
See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way;
the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.” (Mark 1:2–3)
It is generally agreed that this citation conflates three biblical prophecies:

I am going to send an angel in front of you, to guard you on the way and to bring
you to the place that I have prepared. (Exod 23:20)
See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom
you seek will suddenly come to his temple. (Mal 3:1)
A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” (Isa 40:3)
There is no general agreement, however, on several other questions raised by Mark 1:2–3.
Why does Mark introduce the citation with an incomplete sentence? Why does he attribute
a conflation from three sources to “Isaiah the prophet”? Why does he interpret all three as
prophecies about John the Baptist and Jesus?
The last of these concerns is the subject of the present study. I will argue that Mark
applies Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3 to John and Jesus because he interprets them as
messianic prophecies on the basis of shared vocabulary with acknowledged messianic texts.
The process probably starts with Ps 89, a lament about the downfall of God’s “anointed”
one. Such words as “reject” and “enemies” link Ps 89 to Pss 110 and 118, allowing Mark to
apply Pss 110 and 118 to Jesus the Messiah (Mark 11:9–10; 12:10–11, 36; 14:62). The
connection from Pss 110 and 118 to Isa 40 is established by the words “Lord” and “come.”
Finally, as is widely acknowledged, Isa 40:3 is conflated with Exod 20:23 and Mal 3:1
because they share the words “messenger,” “prepare,” and “way.” For Mark, the Lord of Isa
40:3 whose messenger prepares the way is the coming Lord of Pss 110 and 118—the
rejected Messiah of Ps 89. Mark then demonstrates this by using the words “send,”
“messenger,” “prepare,” “way,” “Lord,” and “come” throughout his narrative to describe
how various messengers—John the Baptist, Jesus’ disciples, and the angels—do in fact
prepare the way for the coming Lord. They proclaim repentance (1:4–8; 6:7–13), procure a
colt (11:1–6), fix the Passover meal (14:12–16), and gather the elect (13:26–27).
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Defining the Problem
My argument starts with the premise that Mark applies Exod 20:3; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3 to
John and Jesus because he interprets them as messianic prophecies. That Mark applies them
to John and Jesus seems fairly obvious. According to Mark 1:4, John appears “in the
wilderness.” According to Mark 1:7, “He proclaimed, ‘The one who is more powerful than
I is coming after me.’ ” This fits the descriptions given in Mark 1:2–3, which depicts John
the Baptist as a messenger who cries out in the Judean wilderness, preparing Jesus’ way.
If John is the messenger of Exod 20:23 and Mal 3:1 and the “one crying out” in Isa
40:3, then Jesus is the one who follows the messenger; the “Lord” whose way is prepared.
Here is our first clue that Mark interprets Isa 40:3 as a messianic prophecy, because
elsewhere in Mark “Lord” (κύριος) refers to the Messiah. This is made especially clear in
Mark 12:35–37, where Jesus addresses the scribes’ teaching that “the Messiah (χριστός)
is the Son of David.” He cites Ps 110:1:
The Lord said to my Lord,
“Sit at my right hand,
until I put your enemies under your feet.”
In this way, Jesus demonstrates that the Messiah is David’s “Lord (κύριος).”
That Mark 1:2–3 is meant as a messianic prophecy is also indicated by the emphasis on
Jesus’ messianic identity in the surrounding verses, and indeed in the Gospel as a whole.
Mark 1:1, which leads right into the composite citation, concerns little else: “The beginning
of the good news of Jesus Christ (χριστός), the Son of God (υἱοῦ θεοῦ).” Here Mark
introduces another messianic title, “Son of God,” derived from the LXX version of 2 Sam
7:14 and Ps 2:7:
I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son (υἱόν) to me.
The Lord said to me, “My son (υἱός) you are;
today I have begotten you.”
Jesus’ messianic identity is then confirmed by two supernatural powers: a voice from
heaven that proclaims (in the words of Ps 2:7), “You are my Son” (1:11), and an unclean
spirit who declares, “I know you are, the Holy One of God” (1:24).
Jesus’ human companions, on the other hand, are quite slow to recognize that he is the
Messiah. Jesus stills a storm (4:35–41), feeds two large crowds (6:30–44; 8:1–10), and
walks on water (6:45–52), but the disciples consistently fail to understand (4:41; 6:52;
8:17–21). Such is the burden of the Gospel’s first half, up until Peter’s confession in Mark
8:29: “You are the Messiah.”
The context of Mark, then, makes it quite easy to read the three verses cited in Mark
1:2–3 as messianic prophecies. What makes it difficult is our own context as twenty-first-
century biblical scholars. When we read these prophecies in their historical and literary
settings, their messianic significance does not exactly leap off the page. Exodus 23:20
seems to be about an angel whom God will send to bring Moses and the Israelites safely
into the Promised Land. Isaiah 40:3 addresses the people’s return from exile in the sixth
century B.C.E. The “way” now leads through the wilderness from Babylon to Judah, and the
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“voice” is never clearly identified. Malachi 3:1, written early in the Second Temple Period,
concerns “the messenger of the covenant.” The Lord is about to visit the temple, and this
messenger will prepare his way by purifying its priests.
If Mark is applying these verses to John and Jesus, then he is not interpreting them
within their historical and literary contexts. He must have some other context in mind.
Recent proposals have suggested that this context involves one or more dominant
theological concepts, derived from Mark’s reading of the Scriptures. For Ulrich Mauser,
that concept is the wilderness. John Drury and Ronnie Poon agree. According to Drury,
Mark 1:1–15 is structured on a biblical pattern of emerging from and entering the
wilderness. Poon contends that the wilderness theme is especially underscored in Mark
1:1–3. Sharyn Dowd, however, emphasizes a different theme. She argues that Mark draws
heavily on Isaiah’s notion of “blindness, deafness, and hardness of heart as metaphors for a
fatal incomprehension of God’s will and God’s ways.” John Donahue and Daniel
Harrington focus on a third theme: Second Isaiah’s “universalist ideology.”
The most popular theory, however, proposes that Mark develops the theological concept
of a “new Exodus.” One of the leading proponents of this theory is Joel Marcus. In his book
The Way of the Lord, Marcus explains that the “new Exodus” concept is based on “second
Exodus” theology as articulated primarily in Isa 40–55 and interpreted by first-century Jews
for whom Roman occupation was a kind of exile. For Marcus, this concept makes sense not
only of Mark 1:2–3 but also of the entire Gospel. Mark’s Jesus wields God’s kingly power
to lead God’s people along the way of eschatological victory. This is affirmed in the
acclamations at Jesus’ baptism (Mark 1:11) and transfiguration (9:7), and illustrated in his
journey on the “way” to Jerusalem (Mark 8:27; 9:33; 10:17, 32, 46, 52). Jesus’ “way,”
however, does not lead to military triumph. Instead, it is patterned after that of the Suffering
Servant in Isa 40–55. For Jesus, as for his followers who have endured the ravages of the
Jewish War, the way of eschatological victory is the way of suffering and death. Mark
confirms this by relating that, when Jesus finally arrives in Jerusalem, he goes to the cross
and rises from the grave.
Marcus and his colleagues offer compelling and comprehensive arguments about a
theological context for Mark’s interpretation of Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3. The idea
that Jesus is leading a “new Exodus” explains Mark’s royal imagery, eschatological
orientation, and themes of suffering and discipleship. Their arguments also raise two
serious questions, however. For one, would Mark’s quotation of Isa 40:3 and a handful of
allusions to Isa 42:1; 50:6; 52:13–53:12 have sufficed to evoke the “new Exodus” theology
of Isa 40–55 for Mark’s original audience? More generally, was first-century interpretation
concerned with the biblical authors’ broader theological themes as recognized by modern
critics? There is no direct evidence to suggest that twentieth-century concepts like “new
Exodus” or “Suffering Servant” drove first-century exegesis, either by Christians or by
Jews. The surviving literature never mentions such concepts, nor does it indicate that
interpreters located them in specific portions of Scripture like Isa 40–55.
A second concern is that Marcus and others neglect to explain why Mark interprets
Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3 as prophecies about the Messiah. This is largely because
they tend to emphasize Mark’s eschatology at the expense of his christology. According to
Marcus, for example, Mark’s christology cannot be understood apart from his eschatology.
The citation of Isa 40:3 serves not so much to identify Jesus as “Lord” as to introduce the
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concept of “the way.”
Many scholars, however, agree that Mark’s central concern is christological. From the
introduction in Mark 1:1 to the centurion’s confession in Mark 15:39, Mark consistently
demonstrates that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God. This is especially apparent in his
Passion Narrative, which is rife with royal acclamations (14:61–62; 15:18, 26, 39) and
fulfilled prophecies (14:27, 49–50; 15:24, 34, 36). Since Mark’s christology dictates his
story, his eschatology cannot be understood apart from his christology. Even Mark 13,
where eschatological themes come to the fore, is punctuated by a concern that Jesus’
followers recognize the true Messiah. “Beware that no one leads you astray,” warns Jesus.
“Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray” (Mark
13:5–6). Later, in a passage that is often taken to refer to the anticipated end of the Jewish
War (66–74 C.E.), Jesus reiterates the admonition: “And if anyone says to you at that time,
‘Look! Here is the Messiah!’ or ‘Look! There he is!’—do not believe it. False messiahs and
false prophets will appear and produce signs and omens, to lead astray, if possible, the
elect” (Mark 13:21–22). Mark is most likely warning his readers of revolutionaries who
made royal claims. His message is clear: followers of Jesus should not be taken in by
messianic pretenders. Instead, they are to follow in the way of the crucified Messiah (8:31–
38; 15:29–32), suffering patiently (13:9–13) and watching (13:23, 32–37) for the Son of
Man to come with the clouds (13:26; 14:62).
Mark’s christological emphasis dictates that we should look for a more christological
context in which to understand Mark 1:2–3 and its function in Mark’s narrative as a whole.
We can supply such a context by using the theory of messianic exegesis. This theory
focuses on an exegetical method that is widely attested among ancient Jewish and Christian
interpreters. It explains how the first Christians applied this method to their most pressing
exegetical task: to explain how Jesus, although the Romans executed him by the most
humiliating means at their disposal, was in fact the prophesied Messiah. The theory of
messianic exegesis is a useful tool for understanding how Mark reads Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1;
and Isa 40:3 because it emphasizes christological interpretation and first-century
methodology. These emphases also make it useful for understanding Mark’s other
christological citations. Together, these citations interpreted with this method yield a
compelling context for reading Mark 1:2–3 as a prophecy about the Messiah who comes,
sending messengers to prepare his way.
Messianic Exegesis
Ancient exegetes did not understand a passage in terms of its literary and historical context.
They did not take a biblical author’s theological themes into account. They simply were not
trained in modern methods for discerning authorial intention. For first-century exegetes, the
author of Scripture was God. Moses, the prophets, David, Solomon—all of these men
faithfully recorded God’s own word. Moreover, because all of Scripture is God’s word, an
exegete could use any one verse to shed light on any other verse, as long as that exegete
could demonstrate that both verses treat the same subject.
One way to demonstrate this is to show that both verses share the same vocabulary. For
example, Exod 23:20 and Mal 3:1 both begin with similar clauses:
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I am going to send an angel …
‫… הנה שלח מלאכי‬
ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ ἐξα ποστέλλω τὸν ἄγγελόν μου … (Exod 23:20)
See, I am sending my messenger …
‫… הנה אנכי שלח מלאך‬
ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ ἐξα ποστέλλω τὸν ἄγγελόν μου … (Mal 3:1)
The location of the messenger is “before your/my face” ( ‫לפניך‬/‫ ;לפני‬πρὸ προσώπου
σου/μου), and the mission of the messenger concerns a “way” ( ‫ ;דרך‬ὁδός). These
similarities are sufficient for a first-century exegete, working either in Hebrew or Greek, to
conclude that God refers to the same messenger in each verse.
A twenty-first-century interpreter might label this kind of exegesis “atomistic,” pointing
out that his or her first-century colleague is taking both verses out of context. There are no
historical or thematic ties to link the angel sent to bring Israel safely to the Promised Land
with the “messenger of the covenant” sent to purify the levitical priests. For the first-
century exegete, however, historical and literary context are not important. The important
context is the whole of Scripture, containing the words of God.
This exegetical method was very useful for clearing up ambiguities in various passages.
A less ambiguous passage with the same vocabulary could shed light on the difficulty.
Rabbinic literature is filled with examples of this technique. Interestingly, one of them cites
Exod 23:20 together with Mal 3:1. The question at hand is the identity of the angel in Exod
23:20. God promises a guardian angel, but nowhere are we told that such an angel actually
did lead Israel to the Promised Land. To what angel, then, does Exod 23:20 refer?
Exodus Rabbah 32 is devoted to answering this question. In Exod. Rab. 32:9, the
following explanation is given: it is the same “angel” ( ‫ )מלאך‬who guarded Isaac (Gen
24:7) and Jacob (Gen 48:16). He appears to Israel when they cry for help (Exod 3:9; Judg
6:11–14). In the end, he will visit Israel at the day of salvation (Mal 3:1). In order to
understand a confusing aspect of Exod 23:20, the Rabbis have referred to passages from
elsewhere in the Pentateuch as well as from the Prophets—passages that contain the word
“angel” (‫)מלאך‬.
Ancient interpreters found shared vocabulary useful not only for clarifying ambiguities
but also for arguing a point, as it enabled them to find support by assembling a variety of
relevant texts. Paul, for example, seems to make such arguments in Gal 3. Here he is trying
to convince his Gentile converts not to get circumcised. He marshals verses from such
disparate sources as Genesis, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, and Habakkuk:
Abraham believed (ἐπίστευσεν) God, and it was reckoned to him as
righteousness (δικαιοσύνην). (Gen 15:6 in Gal 3:6)
All (πάντα) the Gentiles shall be blessed in you. (Gen 12:3; 18:18 in Gal 3:8)
Cursed is everyone (ἐπικατάρατος πᾶς) who does not observe and obey all the
things written in the book of the law. (Deut 27:26; 28:58 in Gal 3:10)
The one who is righteous (δίκαιος) will live (ζήσεται) by faith (πίστεως).
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(Hab 2:4 in Gal 3:11)
Whoever does [them] will live (ζήσεται) by them. (Lev 18:5 in Gal 3:12) Cursed
is everyone (ἐπικατάρατος πᾶς who hangs on a tree. (Deut 21:23 in Gal 3:13)
Apparently Paul has assembled these verses because they either refer to Abraham or share
words like “believe/faith,” “righteousness/righteous,” “all/everyone,” “curse,” and “live.”
Together, they show that Gentiles are made righteous and thus inherit the blessing promised
to Abraham, not by doing the law (i.e. getting circumcised), but by having faith (Gal 3:14).
Paul seems to be interpreting them out of context. Habakkuk 2:4, for example, contrasts
the faithful and righteous with the arrogant and greedy, not with doers of the law. For Paul,
however, the literary context of Hab 2:4 is not as important as the broader context of what
God’s word says about righteousness, life, and faith—and how God’s word can be used to
explain that “faith in Jesus Christ,” rather than “the works of the law” (Gal 2:16), leads to
righteousness, life, and blessing.
The utility of the shared words extends beyond the point they prove. Along with
constructing a context for interpreting the passages, they provide a vocabulary for setting
forth the interpretation. In Gal 3:1–14, for example, the words “believe” or “belief” appear
in vv. 2, 5, 7, 9 (×2), 12, and 14; “just” (δίκαιος) and “justify” (δικαίοω) in vv. 8 and
11; and “curse” in vv. 10 and 13 (×2). The very words that link the relevant passages are
now used to argue those passages’ significance.
In his book Messianic Exegesis, Donald Juel contends that the first Christians made
extensive use of this method to argue the most important point of all: that Jesus is the
Messiah. This was a difficult point to prove, since accepted messianic prophecies never
indicated that the Messiah would be executed by Gentiles. To get around this difficulty,
Christians used shared vocabulary to link accepted messianic prophecies with texts more
reminiscent of Jesus’ life and death.
These arguments are not explicitly spelled out in the New Testament, chiefly because
none of the New Testament authors sets out to write a logical case that Jesus is the Messiah.
By and large, their audiences are already convinced of this. They now need to be persuaded
about other matters, such as the futility of Gentile circumcision. Nevertheless, traces of
early messianic exegesis remain. For example, in Gal 3:16, Paul quotes Gen 17:7 to
demonstrate that the “Messiah” (χριστός) is the sole heir of God’s promise to Abraham:
“I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you … to be
God to you and to your offspring after you.” Paul concludes that Abraham’s “offspring”
(σπέρμα) is the Messiah, apparently because of 2 Sam 7:12, an accepted messianic
prophecy about David’s “offspring” (σπέρμα). For Paul, the offspring who inherits
David’s throne is the offspring who receives God’s promise to Abraham.
In my view, messianic exegesis also accounts for the christological citations in Mark. It
is reasonable to think that it might, since Mark’s story largely functions as an apology for
the cross. Mark explicitly mentions that Jesus’ sufferings were foretold in Scripture (8:12;
14:21, 49). Most of his christological citations occur in Mark 11–15 and seem to explain
that Jesus’ rejection by the religious authorities (Ps 118:22–23 in Mark 12:10–11), desertion
by his followers (Zech 13:7 in Mark 14:27), abuses by the Roman executioners (Pss 22:18;
69:32 in Mark 15:24, 36), and even abandonment by God (Ps 22:1 in Mark 15:34) all fulfill
some prophecy about the Messiah. In addition, Mark assures his readers that the Messiah’s
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crucifixion is not the end of the story. There are other prophecies yet to be fulfilled.
Specifically, Jesus cites Ps 110:1 and Dan 7:13 in answer to the high priest’s question,
“ ‘Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?’ Jesus said, ‘I am, and “you will see
the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power,” and “coming with the clouds of
heaven” ’ ” (Mark 14:61–62).
Why did Mark believe that these prophecies—none of which explicitly refers to the
Lord’s “anointed”—concern the Messiah? To answer this question, we should look for a
chain of shared vocabulary that would link Mark’s citations to one or more accepted
messianic texts. Elsewhere, I have shown how all the christological citations in Mark 11–15
can be interpreted as messianic prophecies in light of Ps 89. This psalm concerns God’s
promises to David, and contains this crucial verse:
But now you have spurned and rejected him;
you are full of wrath against your anointed. (Ps 89:37)
The lament continues:

All who pass by plunder him;
he has become the scorn of his neighbors. (v. 41)
Juel had already pointed out that the verb “scorn” ( ‫ ;חרפה‬ὀνειδισμός) or its cognate
noun also appears in Pss 22:6; 69:7, 9, 10, 19, and 20. It remained for me to show that Ps
89 also shares significant vocabulary with Pss 118 and 110, and then to extend the
argument from Ps 118 to Zech 9:9; 13:7 and from Ps 110 to Dan 7:13. Key words include
“come” (‫ ;בוא‬ἔρχομαι) (Ps 118:26; Zech 9:9; Dan 7:13), “reject” (‫ ;מאס‬ἐξουδενέω)
(Pss 22:6; 69:33; 89:37; 118:22), and “save” (‫ ;ישע‬σώζω) (Pss 89:26; 118:14, 21; Zech
9:9). These and other words bring together various passages from the Writings and the
Prophets to show that the man who was scorned, rejected, and deserted was, in fact, the
prophesied Messiah. They create a scriptural context for understanding Jesus.
As in Galatians, the significance of the shared vocabulary extends beyond the
connections it forges and the context it creates. Like Paul, Mark uses these words at critical
junctures in his discourse. For Mark, Jesus is the Messiah who “comes” to the Jordan (1:7,
9) and then to Galilee (1:14), beyond Galilee (6:53), and finally to Jerusalem (11:15;
14:17), where he is “rejected” (8:31) and condemned to a death that “saves” (8:34–35;
15:29–32). The words that justify the Scriptural argument are the words used to make the
theological point.
Messianic Exegesis in Mark 1:2–3

What, then, can we say about Mark 1:2–3? First, it seems obvious that some kind of
exegesis by means of shared vocabulary is at work. It provides Mark with a rationale for
conflating the three passages he cites. As we have seen, Exod 23:20 and Mal 3:1 both
concern a “messenger” (‫ ;מלאך‬ἄγγελος) whom God will “send” (‫;שלח‬
ἀποστέλλω) along a “way” (‫ ;דרך‬ὁδός) “before” someone’s “face” ( ‫ ;לפני‬πρὸ
προσώπου). Interpreting these two verses together on the basis of shared vocabulary is
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not an anomaly in Jewish tradition. Exodus Rabbah 32:9 does it in order to show that the
“angel” (‫ )מלאך‬who accompanies Israel in the wilderness is the same angel who will
visit Israel at the day of salvation. Mark’s interpretation is quite different: the “messenger”
(ἄγγελος) is John the Baptist. Mark seems to have inherited the rabbis’ method, but not
their conclusion.
Mark’s conclusion is shared by Q. According to Luke 7:27/Matt 11:10, Jesus describes
John as “the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending your messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare the way before you.’ ” The wording of Luke 7:27; Matt 11:10; and Mark
1:2 is virtually identical. This raises the questions of dependence on a common tradition.
For our purposes, however, the answer to this question is irrelevant. For Mark, the
important innovation is not the conflation of Exod 23:20 with Mal 3:1, but rather the
addition of Isa 40:3.
This, too, finds its warrant in shared vocabulary. The “way” ( ‫ ;דרך‬ὁδός) of Exod
23:20 and Mal 3:1 can easily be identified as the “way” ( ‫ ;דרך‬ὁδός) of Isa 40:3—the
way of the “Lord.” A Hebrew exegete would also recognize that both Mal 3:1 and Isa 40:3
affirm that someone will “prepare” (‫ )פנה‬it. These connections allow Mark to conclude
that the messenger who prepares the way, according to Moses and Malachi, has the voice
that cries, “Prepare the way!” as described by Isaiah.
The next step is to explain how Mark comes to identify the “messenger” with John the
Baptist and the “Lord” with Jesus. We have only to show that Isa 40:3 can be interpreted as
a prophecy about Jesus because of shared vocabulary with texts that Mark regards as
messianic. One such text is Ps 110:1:
The Lord says to my lord (‫ ;אדני‬κύριος),

“Sit at my right hand
until I make your enemies your footstool.”
We have noted that Mark’s Jesus quotes this verse in order to demonstrate that the Messiah
is David’s Lord (Mark 12:36). Clearly, Mark reads Ps 110:1 as a messianic prophecy,
possibly because of its affinities to Ps 89. The logic behind messianic exegesis of Isa 40:3,
then, goes something like this: the enthroned “lord” of Ps 110:1 can be identified as the
“Lord” (‫ ;יהוה‬κύριος) whose way is prepared in Isa 40:3. For Mark, that Lord is Jesus.
Therefore, the messenger who prepares his way must be John the Baptist.
This strategy only works in Greek, but there is another one that works in both Greek
and Hebrew. It starts with Ps 118:26: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the
Lord.” Mark puts this verse in the mouths of the people who acclaim Jesus as he rides a colt
into Jerusalem. The royal significance of this scene is barely disguised. It strongly evokes
Zech 9:9:
Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
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In addition, the crowd follows its citation of Ps 118:26 with, “Blessed is the coming
kingdom of our ancestor David!” (Mark 11:10). It is hard to escape the conclusion that, for
Mark, Ps 118:26 refers to the Messiah. As with Ps 110, Ps 118 shares significant vocabulary
with Ps 89. In addition, it contains both the noun “Lord” ( ‫ ;יהוה‬κύριος) and the verb
“come” (‫ ;בוא‬ἔρχομαι), which also appear in Isa 40:10: “See, the Lord God (‫אדני‬
‫ ;יהוה‬κύριος) comes (‫ ;יבוא‬ἔρχεται) with might.” It is not too much of a stretch to
determine that the “Lord” who “comes” in Isa 40:10—the coming Lord and Messiah of Ps
118—is the “Lord” of Isa 40:3 whose way is to be prepared.
There is some external support for the notion that the connection between Ps 118:26
and Isa 40:3 was made via Isa 40:10. For example, it would account for the citation of Zech
13:7 in Mark 14:27:
Strike the shepherd (‫ ;רעה‬ποιμένα),

that the sheep may be scattered.
It is possible that Mark reads Zech 13:7 as a messianic prophecy in light of Isa 40:10–11.
According to Isa 40:10–11, the “Lord” who “comes with might” “will feed his flock like a
shepherd (‫ ;רעה‬ποίμνιον).” The shepherd of Isa 40:11 can easily be identified as the
stricken shepherd of Zech 13:7—the Messiah deserted by his disciples.
Malachi 3:1 provides additional support for the theory that the link between Ps 118:26
and Isa 40:3 relies on the words “Lord” and “come.” These two words also play an
important role in Mal 3:1: “See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me,”
proclaims the prophet, “and the Lord (‫ ;האדון‬κύριος) whom you seek will suddenly
come (‫ ;יבוא‬ἥξει) to his temple.” “Indeed, he is coming (‫ ;בא‬ἔρχεται).” Psalm 118:26;
Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:10 all refer to a coming Lord. Malachi 3:1 simply reinforces the idea
that the coming Lord is the one whose way the messenger prepares, as expressed in Isa
40:3.
The Fulfillment of Exodus 23:20; Malachi 3:1; and Isaiah 40:3

To summarize the argument thus far: Mark applies the composite citation in Mark 1:2–3 to
Jesus and John because he interprets Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3 as messianic
prophecies due to shared vocabulary with Pss 110 and 118. Surely Mark thinks that Pss
110:1 and 118:26 (quoted in Mark 11:9; 12:36; 14:62) concern the Messiah, possibly on the
basis of shared vocabulary with Ps 89. The word “Lord” provides a direct link (in Greek)
from Ps 110:1 to Isa 40:3; indirect links can be traced through Isa 40:10 to Ps 118:26 using
the words “Lord” and “come.” These two words in turn provide connections to Mal 3:1.
The word “way” is shared by Isa 40:3; Exod 23:20; and Mal 3:1. In addition, Exod 23:20
and Mal 3:1 both refer to a “messenger” whom God will “send” before someone’s “face.”
If Mark 1:2–3 really constitutes the fruit of messianic exegesis, we should expect some
of these words to appear at important junctures in his story. This would show that Mark’s
concept of Jesus has been formed by the exegetical process, just as Paul’s teaching on
righteousness through faith has apparently been formed by his interpretation of select
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verses from Genesis, Leviticus, Deuteronomy, and Habakkuk. Mark does seem to follow
this pattern elsewhere. As we have seen, words such as “reject” and “save,” which link
some of the citations found in Mark 11–15, play critical roles as Mark develops his portrait
of a crucified Messiah (Mark 8:31, 34–35; 15:29–32). Therefore, words that link Exod
23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3 should be similarly featured, demonstrating how Jesus fulfills
these prophecies as the narrative progresses.
It is not difficult to spot the relevant occurrences. We have already noted that Mark uses
the words “come” (ἔρχομαι) and “way” (ὁδός) to pace his story. Mark’s Jesus “comes”
first to the Jordan (1:9) and then to Galilee (1:14), beyond Galilee (6:53), and Jerusalem
(Zech 9:9 in Mark 11:1–7; Ps 118:26 in Mark 11:9–10, 15; 14:17). Soon he will return,
“coming” with the clouds (Dan 7:13 in Mark 13:26; 14:62). That Jesus travels along a
“way” is apparent in Mark 8:3, 27; 9:33–34; 10:17, 32, 46, 52; 11:8. By using these words
to mark Jesus’ journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, Mark portrays Jesus as the Messiah of Ps
118:26; Zech 9:9; Mal 3:1; Isa 40:3, 10; Exod 23:20; and Dan 7:13—the Lord who comes
along a way.
We can also identify four passages in which Jesus “sends” “messengers”—to preach
and heal in Mark 6:7–13; to procure a colt in 11:1–6; to prepare the Passover in 14:12–16
and angels gather the elect in 13:26–27. Together with the introduction of John the Baptist,
the first messenger (1:4–8), these four passages are located at critical turning points in
Mark’s story. Marcus offers an explanation for the sending of messengers in Mark 6:7–13;
11:1–6; and 14:12–16. Together with passages like Mark 3:9; 8:6–7; and 15:41, they show
how people “prepare the way” of the new Exodus by making various arrangements for
Jesus. This explanation is consistent with Marcus’ emphasis on the way of eschatological
victory that, ironically, leads to the cross.
Even more striking than the fact that Jesus’ followers get a boat ready, distribute food to
a crowd, find a donkey, and prepare the Passover, however, is the recurrence of the words
“send” (ἀποστέλλω), “messenger” (ἄγγελος), “prepare” (ἑτοιμάζω), “way” (ὁδός),
“Lord” (κύριος), and “come” (ἔρχομαι)—words that appear in Mark 1:2–3 and link the
prophecies cited there—in Mark 6:7–13; 11:1–6; 13:26–27; 14:12–16. This makes it likely
that Mark is not simply emphasizing the theme of preparation. He is alluding to the
prophecies in Mark 1:2–3. Having stated that a messenger will be sent to prepare the way
of the Lord, Mark then shows how Jesus consistently fulfills these prophecies. The coming
Messiah frequently sends messengers to prepare his way.
First of all, Jesus “comes” (ἦλθεν) from Nazareth to the Jordan (Mark 1:9). After his
baptism there, he “comes” (ἦλθεν) to Galilee (v. 14). These initial comings bracket the
appearance of the first “messenger” (ἄγγελος), John, who will “prepare the way”
(ἑτοιμάσατε τὴν ὁδόν) (v. 3) by “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the
forgiveness of sins” (v. 4). This seems appropriate, as Jesus himself brings a similar
message to Galilee: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent,
and believe in the good news” (v. 14). As the story progresses, it becomes apparent that
recognizing this Messiah does indeed require repentance and belief. Jesus inaugurates his
kingdom by offering forgiveness to sinners (2:1–12) and challenging the fearful to turn to
faith (4:40; 5:33–34, 36).
The purpose of the first messenger, then, is to call on people to repent in order to
prepare the way for a Messiah who forgives sins. The message of repentance is reiterated
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just before Jesus expands his ministry beyond Galilee in the first of four passages that
repeats terms introduced in Mark 1:2–3. It is associated with a second sending of
messengers, as recorded in Mark 6:7–13. Jesus “called the twelve,” writes Mark, “and
began to send (ἀποστέλλειν) them out two by two” (Mark 6:7). “He ordered them to
take nothing for their journey (εἰς ὁδὸν) except a staff” (v. 8). Here Jesus sends his
disciples along a way, as prophesied in Mark 1:2: “See, I am sending (ἀποστέλλω) my
messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way (τὴν ὁδὸν σου).” The connection
between Mark 6 and Mark 1 becomes even more apparent when we read what the disciples
did: “So they went out and proclaimed (ἐκήρυξαν) that all should repent
(μετανοῶσιν)” (6:12). They have taken on the ministry of John the Baptist, who was
“proclaiming (κηρύσσων) a baptism of repentance (μετανοίας) for the forgiveness of
sins” (1:4). As if to reinforce this idea, Mark goes on to explain that John is no longer in
business. He has been executed by Herod Antipas (6:14–29). Meanwhile, Jesus is preparing
to “come” (ἔρχομαι/ἀπέρχομαι/ἐχέρχομαι) to Gennesaret (6:53), Tyre (7:24), and
the Decapolis (7:31). He therefore sends new messengers to prepare the way with the
proclamation of repentance.
The disciples’ mission changes as Jesus enters Jerusalem. He is about to fulfill a
messianic prophecy, and he needs some help arranging the details. The episode begins in
Mark 11:1: “When they were approaching Jerusalem … he sent (ἀποστέλλει) two of his
disciples.” Their job is to borrow a colt for Jesus to ride into the city. Verse 3 makes it clear
that the one who sends them is “the Lord” (ὁ κύριος), and v. 8 mentions that he is riding
the colt “on the road” (εἰς τὴν ὁδόν). Again, the story is told in terms of Mark 1:2–3. As
in Exod 23:20 and Mal 3:1, the “Lord” is “sending” messengers. As in Isa 40:3, they enable
him to proceed along his “way.” They also enable him to fulfill Zech 9:9:
Lo, your king comes (ἔρχεται) to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
The people, apparently recognizing Jesus as the Messiah, acclaim him in terms of Ps
118:26: “Blessed is the one who comes (ὁ ἐρχόμενος) in the name of the Lord! Blessed
is the coming (ἐρχομένη) kingdom of our ancestor David!” The very next verse reads,
“Then he entered (εἰσῆλθεν) Jerusalem” (Mark 11:11). Here a remarkable concentration
of messianic images is accompanied by an equally remarkable concentration of the words
ἀποστέλλω, κύριος, ὁδός, and ἔρχομαι. As the Lord comes to Jerusalem, he
continues to send disciples to prepare his way—this time for a royal entrance into the holy
city.
Jesus “comes” (ἔρχεται) to Jerusalem for the last time in Mark 14:17. Here Mark
begins the countdown of Jesus’ final hours. Before the next evening, Jesus will be dead. At
this critical juncture, Mark once again explains that Jesus’ disciples have preceded him:
“He sent (ἀποστέλλει) two of his disciples” (Mark 14:13). Since Jesus is no longer on
the road, however, this sending does not refer to his “way.” Instead, it is more concerned
with preparation. The verb “prepare” (ἑτοιμάζω) is used three times—when the disciples
ask their initial question in v. 12, when Jesus gives his instructions in v. 15, and when the
disciples carry them out in v. 16 by making ready for the Passover. Again, we hear echoes
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of Mark 1:2–3: “See, I am sending (ἀποστέλλω) my messenger ahead of you.” “Prepare
(ἑτοιμάσατε) the way of the Lord.”
Jesus thus sends his disciples three times, each time with a mission appropriate to the
phase of ministry he is about to enter. First, as he prepares to travel beyond Galilee, he
sends his disciples two by two to proclaim the message of repentance. Second, before he
enters Jerusalem, he sends two disciples to procure a colt so that he can fulfill a messianic
prophecy. Third, on the day before he dies, he sends two disciples to prepare the Passover.
When Jesus symbolically breaks his body and pours out his blood (Mark 14:22–24), we see
the end of the way that his messengers have so carefully prepared. We realize that this
Messiah has come in humility, riding on a colt, in order to die.
There is yet one final coming for Jesus, according to Mark. It does not take place before
the end of the Gospel, but it is foretold in Mark 13:26: “Then they will see the Son of Man
coming (ἐρχόμενον) in clouds with great power and glory.” Sure enough, at this final
coming there is also a fulfillment of Mark 1:2–3: “Then he will send out the angels
(ἀποστελλεῖ τοὺς ἀγγέλους), and gather his elect from the four winds” (13:27). Here
the messengers have a new mission, which Mark describes in terms of Zech 2:6 (LXX): “I
will gather you from the four winds of the sky, says the Lord (κύριος).” Perhaps Mark
interprets Zech 2:6 as messianic prophecy in light of Ps 110:1 and Isa 40:3 because all three
passages describe the “Lord” (κύριος). He then adds the agency of messengers. This very
different coming, however, requires different messengers with a different mission. Now that
the Messiah has come in humility to forgive sins (2:10) and “to give his life a ransom for
many” (10:45), he will come again in triumph to accomplish what many expected of him
the first time: the ingathering of God’s people. For this, he needs heavenly messengers.
Conclusion
Messianic exegesis offers a compelling account for the composite citation in Mark 1:2–3.
Not only does it provide a warrant for the conflation of Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3,
it also explains Mark’s christological interpretation of all three verses with reference to a
common first-century exegetical technique. In addition, it makes sense of Mark 1:2–3—
along with the Gospel’s other christological citations—in light of the evangelist’s
christological concern. Mark’s twice-repeated warning about messianic pretenders (13:5–6,
21–22) lends some urgency to this concern. Jesus’ followers should not be deceived by
false messiahs who “will come (ἐλεύσονται) in [Jesus’] name and say, ‘I am he!’ ”
(Mark 13:6). The true Messiah has already “come” (Mark 1:9, 14; 6:53; 11:15; 14:17),
sending his messengers before him to prepare his way (Exod 23:20; Mal 3:1; and Isa 40:3
in Mark 1:2–3; 6:7–13; 11:1–6; 14:12–16). When he came to Jerusalem, he was scorned,
rejected, and deserted (Ps 118:22–23 in Mark 12:10–11; Zech 13:7 in Mark 14:27; Ps 22:18
in Mark 15:24; Ps 22:1 in Mark 15:34; Ps 69:32 in Mark 15:36). Soon, however, he will
come again, sending out the angels to gather his elect (Dan 7:13 and Zech 2:6 in Mark
13:26–27). Convinced that Jesus is the Messiah, Mark uses messianic exegesis to show
how Jesus’ life and death fulfill messianic prophecies. Mark 1:2–3 is simply the first of a
series of citations demonstrating that “the Son of Man goes as it is written of him” (Mark
14:21).
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LEVITICAL PURIFICATION IN THE NEW TESTAMENT GOSPELS
Jamal-Dominique Hopkins
Introduction
Situated against the backdrop of late Second Temple Judaism and its religious regulations
are persons found within the New Testament Gospels. Akin to the religious traditions of
Israel throughout the Hebrew Bible, Jewish society within the Gospels likewise functioned
under Levitical laws. Particular focus of these laws was on Israel’s observance of ritual
purification and relational status to a holy God. Levitical laws were concerned with the
right attitude (i.e. obedience) of Israel and its priesthood to God ( ‫)יהוה‬. At the center of
ritual purification was the sacrificial cult and the temple whereby Israel’s relation and status
before God was determined. The purification of persons within Judaism was central to
individual and communal life; this not only was viewed as reflecting God’s holiness, but it
was key to maintaining God’s presence and protection. Based on this, and in correlation
with the liberating ministry of Jesus of Nazareth, one is intrigued by the peculiar tone and
focus within the Gospels on the relaxing of purity stipulations concerning the marginalized;
this is especially curious in the way impure persons are declared clean by Jesus, however,
in most cases without following common Jewish ritual procedures. Hence, these acts of
Jesus solicit the question, what really constituted purity and impurity during this time, and
what was the actual force of the Levitical purity laws (particularly regarding the wider
society) in the Gospels? Moreover, is purity as it relates to Jesus and the Gospels more
concerned with inward as opposed to outward purity and impurity? Here, Mark 7:1–23 may
be informative, especially regarding Jesus’ theological notion of what makes one unclean.
Despite the complicated factors in determining original literary source material of Mark
from its redactional elements, the Gospel accounts will be examined in light of their fixed
literary corpus and on the strength of their synoptic correlation. On the basis of this, this
essay seeks to explore the cultural and religious factors that led to a lack of egalitarianism
due to certain Levitical purity stipulations. Determining the status and meaning of pure and
impure will be explored in light of Jesus’ liberative actions. This meaning, perhaps, also
indicates (at some level) the emphasis of the author-redactor(s) of Mark which, indeed, are
informed by this first-century C.E. period.
Within the Gospels, purity can be understood in a fourfold manner whereby its status is
determined. (1) Purity is related to a physical bodily state (spelled out in the case of bodily
discharge or corpse contamination); (2) it relates to a person’s behavior or disposition
(engaging in adulterous activity, eating without washing, observing certain stipulations on
the Sabbath); (3) it holds social implications for a person’s social status (e.g. determining
whether a person can participate in the social sphere of daily life) and (4) it determines a
person’s status of consecration relative to a holy God. The former two aspects (the physical
bodily state and behavior) correlate to and thus determined the status of the latter two
aspects. Whether pure or impure, a person’s classified bodily or behavioral state was
directly linked to their social and consecrated state. In this sense a person could not engage
in social or religious activities (thus marginalized) unless their bodily or behavioral state
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was whole; this notion, however, is challenged in the Gospels as expressly spelled out in
the synoptic account of the healing of the paralytic in Matt 9:1–8; Luke 5:17–26; and Mark
2:1–12. Here a certain paralytic man is lowered from a house rooftop to where Jesus is
present. Jesus, leaving him in his physical state, says, ἀφίενταί σου αἱ ἁμαρτίαι
(“your sins are forgiven you”). The perfect passive indicative verbal use here does not
indicate that the man’s outward bodily condition is related to sin. Rather, Jesus deals with
this man’s inward condition and desire, offering him spiritual wholeness.
The religious establishment of the late Second Temple period associated one’s outward
bodily state with the status of consecration. Thus, in the case of the paralytic, while he
remained on his sick bed he was viewed as (inwardly) being in sin. This same ideological
notion is held in the case of the blind man in John 9:1–40; at the beginning of this
Johannine passage, the disciples ask, “who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born
blind?” Jesus’ response in both passages asserts that one’s state of purity (or notion of sin)
should not be determined by an outward bodily condition. Unlike other characters, the
individual in this John passage displays an inward right ethical attitude (like the woman
with a flux in the synoptic accounts of Mark 5:25–34; Matt 9:20–22; and Luke 8:43–48).
Conversely, in both John 5:4 and 8:11 (highlighted in n. 9), Jesus uses μηκέτι
ἁμάρτανε, the negated present active imperative command after healing these respective
persons; this constructed verbal command suggests that these individuals were healed in
relation to a kind of inward ethical moral disposition. This disposition also happens to be
manifested in the outward impaired physical condition of the latter.
In relation to behavior or disposition, Hannah Harrington describes this aspect as either
exhibiting or not exhibiting ethical goodness. She notes that ethical goodness reflects the
essential character of God wherein persons who function as holy, likewise, exhibit ethical
goodness:
… ethical goodness, in Judaism describes the quintessential nature of God and so it
is part of what holiness means. When an Israelite defrauds a fellow Israelite or
simply withholds wages he is violating the command, “Be holy as the Lord your
God is holy.”
In seeking to determine the force and nature of first-century C.E. Jewish purification, the
present study will explore the fourfold notions of purity with particular focus on Jesus’
liberating acts.
Situating the Gospels in Their Historical Cultural Milieu

Grounded in the cultic system of ancient Judaism, and primarily related to the notion and
status of holiness, purity thus was required by a God who, himself, was holy. The import of
Jewish purification is keenly attested in other late Second Temple literature, including the
Dead Sea Scrolls and Pseudepigraphical material (which along with harmonizing with
some of the teachings of the New Testament, also is contemporaneous with and further
sheds light on the religio-traditional milieu of the New Testament period). As outlined in
the sectarian Dead Sea Scrolls, the related community, who understood itself as the priestly
descendants of Zadok, observed a more rigid view regarding the laws of purification; some
of these stipulations (dealt with in this essay) are noted in the Damascus Document (CD),
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4QMMT, the Temple Scroll and the book of Jubilees. Issues related to Levitical purity
found in the Gospels include leprosy (Matt 8:2–4; Mark 1:40–44; Luke 5:12–14; 17:11–19,
which corresponds to Lev 13 and 14); purification before meal consumption (Mark 7:1–24
and its parallel accounts in Matt 15:1–20 and Luke 11:37–41, which relates to Lev 7:19;
11:1–23; 15:11; 23:3); purification relating to corpses (Luke 7:11–17 and Mark 5:21–24,
35–43, which relates to Lev 21:11); purification pertaining to bodily discharge (Mark 5:25–
34, which implicitly relates to Lev 12 and 15); the prohibitions concerning the Sabbath
observance; and purity issues regarding adultery (John 8:3–11, which correlates with Lev
20:10). Due to space constraints, the present study will deal principally with the first four
issues only.
The aspect of contagion or pollution was a major concern regarding the impure.
Thomas Kazen and others keenly note this concern in relation to its transmission:
It [impurity] can be transmitted to people and objects (utensils, food, clothes and
liquids), and different items are susceptible to different degrees. Possible means of
transfer are mainly through touch, but also, in some cases, through air, moist
(liquid), pressure and overhang.
Under Jewish religious law, regular means of dealing with impurity and its transmission
(e.g. purifying oneself) included sacrificing, ritual bathing and waiting a certain number of
prescribed days for purification to take effect. A priest would usually declare one clean only
after the impure recipient adhered to certain suggested prescriptions. Although it was
believed by some Jews that contact with Gentiles also caused impurity, this study will
primarily focus on specific individuals who, prior to Jesus’ liberating pronouncements,
were socially and religiously regarded as unclean under Jewish Levitical law.
Jesus and Jewish Purification: Contagion or Social Oppression?

Determining the purity status of an individual continued to hold import during the time of
Jesus’ ministry. Outlined throughout the New Testament Gospels, the notion of what
determined actual impurity wrought conflict between Jesus and his contemporaries. John
Pilch keenly observes that the point of concern in the Gospels was less about sickness and
the ability of certain individuals to function; rather, it was more about a devalued state of
being:
The sickness problems presented to Jesus in the New Testament are concerned with
a state of being (blind; deaf; mute; leprosy … death; uncontrolled hemorrhaging)
rather than an inability to function. What a Western reader might interpret as a loss
of function, namely lameness, an ancient reader would see as a disvalued state of
being.
Pilch further notes that this notion of disvaluing is stressed in the Levitical code of those
disqualified from priestly service: for example, the blind, the lame or those who suffer
mutilation. In the case of the leper and others who suffered bodily, Pilch rightly argues:
Jesus reduces and removes the experiential oppressiveness associated with such
afflictions. In all instances of healing, meaning is restored to life and the sufferer is
returned to purposeful living.
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In consideration of a person’s social standing, outward physical and bodily sickness had
more to do with social disvaluing than contagion or contamination. Moreover, the
disvaluing of persons ignored their inward disposition. The gate keepers of religious and
social purity and impurity largely lacked concern for the inward ethical dispositions; rather,
they had a penchant for singling out persons with visible ailments.
Eating with Unclean Hands
A passage that further clarifies the notion of purity is Mark 7:1–23. Despite contention
regarding its literary-textual form, and thus historical veracity, a close reading of this
passage, and its synoptic parallels, provides a conceptual understanding for what actually
constituted purity and impurity during first-century Judaism. Here, as the Pharisees and
scribes gathered where Jesus was, they began to question his and his disciples’ purity status
with regard to the Jewish custom of eating with defiled hands (e.g. eating without washing
their hands):
Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem
gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with
defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews,
do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of
the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and
there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots,
and bronze kettles.) So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your
disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled
hands?”
Purity with regard to washing was significant throughout the late Second Temple period.
The numerous miqva’ot and cisterns found at Khirbet Qumran attest to the importance of
ritual washing. These archaeological finds cohere with the description of washing for
purification in both the Dead Sea Scrolls (CD 10:10b–13; 4Q266 8 iii 9b–10; 11Q19 45:16;
49–51; 1QS 3:4–6, 7–9; 5:12–14; 4Q284 5; 4Q512) and Josephus (J.W. 2:129, 138, 147–
49, 150, and 161). With regard to washing before meals, the scrolls (1QS 6:4–6) and
Josephus (J.W. 2:129–31) appear to shed further light on the tradition noted in the Markan
passage. Kazen similarly highlights some of this evidence as further pointing to the
historical reliability of Mark 7:
The combined evidence from archaeology, Qumran texts and rabbinic sayings
suggest that the impurity of hands was a well-known problem in Jesus’ time, due to
the susceptibility of liquids, and that the hand-washing conflicts in Mark 7 is
historically credible.
In Mark, Jesus’ first response was to distinguish between doctrine, which comes from God,
and human tradition:
He said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,
‘This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do
they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.’ You abandon the
commandment of God and hold to human tradition.” Then he said to them, “You
have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your
tradition!” (Mark 7:6–9)
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By quoting Isa 29:13, Jesus suggests that the Pharisees and scribes are less concerned with
inward matters: matters of the heart whereby a person’s status is fundamentally determined.
Rather, according to the writer of Mark, Jesus suggests that these religious authorities were
keen on purity regulations only in that these stipulations proved beneficial for them as
leaders. This is suggested by their appeal to Corban (see Lev 1:2), while at the same time
disregarding the Mosaic command to honor father and mother. Jesus contends that these
acts nullify the word of God:
For Moses said, “Honor your father and your mother”; and, “Whoever speaks evil
of father or mother must surely die.” But you say that if anyone tells father or
mother, “Whatever support you might have had from me is Corban” (that is, an
offering to God)—then you no longer permit doing anything for a father or mother,
thus making void the word of God through your tradition that you have handed on.
And you do many things like this. (Mark 7:10–13)
Jesus further suggests that although a person may be outwardly or physically whole, it is
their inward disposition that characterizes their purity status. This, of course, does raise a
larger concern with regard to real bodily contaminations that may lead to actual disease;
despite some real concerns, the Markan passage, as with other Gospel passages dealt with
here (including its synoptic parallels), focus more on matters regarding inward dispositions
related to social and religious significance. Jesus’ acts and priest-like pronouncements of
wholeness, deliverance and forgiveness expose a Jewish institutional breakdown, especially
with how persons with outward circumstances (bodily discharge, leprosy, corpse
contamination, etc.) are viewed and dealt with. The status of Jesus above statement
suggests that the religious authorities were less concerned with actual issues that lead to
contamination and disease, or with person’s inward dispositions (i.e. their heart, which is
informed by doctrine which comes from God), but, rather, with malicious motives which
eventually result in social and religious disenfranchisement. Jesus further contends that
their tradition enforces this stance.
Corpse Contamination
A passage that deals with contamination is Mark 5:35–43; after being approached by a man
named Jairus (the man is unnamed in the Lukan parallel), upon his request Jesus enters his
house where his daughter has just died. As he expels the neighbors and enters the room
where the young girl was lain, he intones, “Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping.”
According to the writer of the Gospel, Jesus reaches out and touches her hand, essentially
breaking the Levitical stipulation forbidding one to have contact with a corpse. Against the
backdrop of Lev 21:11, Jesus thus becomes unclean, suffering under the edict further
spelled out in Num 19:11–13. He is to be in a period of impurity whereby he must go
before the priest, wash himself and wait seven days before being pronounced clean by the
priest. Not only does Jesus fail to adhere to this common traditional ritual procedure, he
raises the young girl who miraculously comes back to life. Jesus’ theological
reinterpretation of Levitical purification seems to affirm his messianic nature, which
purports his ability and authority to heal and pronounce one clean. This re-envisioning
further demonstrates the variant ideological stances regarding Second Temple ritual
purification.
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Leprous Contagion
Another passage dealing with contamination and contagion is the synoptic account of the
leper from Matt 8:1–4; Mark 1:40–44; and Luke 5:12–14; here, a leper appeared before
Jesus asking to be made clean. Whereas the Matthean account has the leper appearing from
the great crowd that had followed Jesus, Luke describes the leper as coming from one of
the cities that Jesus visited. Kneeling down before him he asked Jesus to make him clean.
The law concerning the leper is outlined in Lev 13–14. Against this backdrop, the authors
of the synoptic accounts do not specify the nature of the leprosy nor its severity. Although
various stages of leprosy are described in Leviticus, the most severe form required
quarantine. It is possible that the leprous individual in the Gospels had a more severe case,
as seems telling by his seeking out and particular appeal to Jesus:
λεπρὸς προσελθὼν προσεκύνει αὐτῶ λέγων· κύριε, ἐὰν θέλῃς
δύνασαί με καθαρίσαι. (Matt 8:2)
Καὶ ἔρχεται πρὸς αὐτὸν λεπρὸς παρακαλῶν αὐτὸν καὶ γονυπετῶν
καὶ λέγων αὐτῷ ὅτι ἐὰν θέλῃς δύνασαί με καθαρίσαι. (Mark 1:40)
ἰδοὺ ἀνὴρ πλήρης λέπρας· ἰδὼν δὲ τὸν “Ιησοῦν, πεσὼν ἐπὶ
πρόσωπον ἐδεήθη αὐτοῦ λέγων· κύριε, ἐὰν θέλῃς δύνασαί με
καθαρίσαι. (Luke 5:12)
In all three passages Jesus responds to the leper in the positive; Jesus offers the aorist
passive imperative command, καθαρίσθητι (“be made clean”). The leper’s case is
similar to the healing of the woman with a flux (in Mark 5:25–35; Matt 9:20–22; and Luke
8:43–48) and the paralytic (in Mark 2:1–2; Matt 9:1–8; and Luke 5:17–26). Jesus offers
them both spiritual and bodily wholeness based on their inward attitudes. Jesus thus
positions the leper to be socially and religiously restored.
In priest-like fashion, Jesus usurps Jewish procedural law; he pronounces the leper
clean while at the same time instructing the man to go show himself before the priest as
well as offer the respective sacrifice as instructed by the Torah. This revisionist notion of
purification regarding leprosy introduces both a miracle and a slightly variant attitude
regarding Jewish ritual procedure. It is not likely that the priest will find the man unclean
with leprosy. Because of Jesus’ act, the priest can only confirm what has already been done.
Jesus both affirms the law of purification for the leper (taking seriously the issue of
contagion) and expands on this notion: he performs this miracle and then, himself,
pronounces (in a priest-like manner) the leper clean.
A Woman with a Flux
In Mark 5:25–34, a woman with a flux (discharge) receives a miraculous healing at the
hands of Jesus. This woman receives her healing after doing the unimaginable; she touches
the boarder of Jesus’ clothing. According to the Gospel accounts, this woman, suffering an
abnormal discharge for twelve years, falls under the purity regulations described in Lev 12
(indirectly) and 15. She is highly contagious and needs to be quarantined. She is socially
and religiously marginalized in that she is restricted from touching anyone or allowing
anyone to touch her or touch anything she has touched. The purity state of this woman can
further be examined in light of the pseudepigraphal work Jub. 3:8–14 (indirectly); which
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also corresponds to the Dead Sea sectarian works 4Q265 7 ii 11–17 and 4Q266 6 ii 1–13;
the former relates to the purification of a woman who upon entering the Garden of Eden has
given birth. According to Jub. 3:8–14 (where the Garden of Eden is described as a
sanctuary), Gen 2 (particularly concerning Adam and Eve entering Eden) is harmonized
with the purity regulation of the parturient in Lev 12:2–8. According to Leviticus, after a
woman had given birth to a child, she was considered impure, thus not being able to touch
holy things or enter the temple. She had to wait a number of days (forty days for a male
child and eighty days for a female child) before bringing her offering to the priest and being
atoned; only after this could she participate in social and religious activities.
On the basis of Levitical law, this woman places the crowd as risk of contamination and
the due penalty for her actions. She touches Jesus, thus, theoretically, contaminating him.
Similar to the leper and the paralytic described above, Jesus, again, fully fails to adhere to
the common ritual purification procedure; upholding a particular variant view, he
reinterprets the Levitical purity stipulation with the priest-like pronouncement (hence
usurping the priest), “Daughter, your faith has made you well.” Unlike the leper (in Mark
1:40–44), who is told to show himself to the priest and offer a sacrifice, Jesus tells the
woman to go in peace. Whereas there may be a real concern with contagion on the part of
the leper, this notion is lacking in the case of the woman with the flux.
Akin to the position of Jesus regarding corpse contamination in Mark 5:35–43; leprous
contagion in Mark 1:40–44; the case of the paralytic in Matt 9:1–8 and the blind man in
John 9:1–40, the author-redactor(s) of this account (the woman with a flux) describe Jesus
as dealing with her inward desire, offering her spiritual and bodily wholeness.
Summation
In light of this study, several things can be offered here. Jesus’ liberating acts suggest that
the force and nature of Levitical purity was understood variantly during the late Second
Temple period. While it is true that numerous manuscripts of Leviticus, along with other
works, were held as authoritative by the Jewish groups during this time, there was,
however, no fixed biblical canon during this period (this is certainly the case regarding the
Hebrew Bible and its textual variants); this attests to variant theological and ideological
views during this time. Interpretative notions concerning Levitical purity likely underwent
redactional activity, hence, resulting in nuanced meanings; this in turn led to contentious
confrontations between sectarian groups, including the followers of Jesus’ teachings,
particularly regarding the purity status of so-called contaminants (the leper, the woman with
a flux). With the heterogeneous culture of Jewish sectarianism, and notions of religious
purification, Jesus was able to assert his doctrine in opposition to the tradition of the
Pharisees and scribes.
Jesus’ actions suggest a particular theological notion with regard to the observance of
Judaic purity laws. His focus on inward dispositions and ethical moral attitudes challenged
the notion of determining purification based on bodily conditions. Where there was
evidence of bodily infirmity, Jesus challenged their ethical attitudes. Akin to later New
Testament Pauline thought, which appeals to a more Gentile audience, the followers of
Jesus in the Gospels are described as having less rigid attitudes with regard to Jewish legal
stipulations, thus giving primacy to a kind of spiritualization (the idea that the concrete
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practice of partaking in acts of ritual purification is transferred to the inner attitude of those
desiring purity: i.e., a deeper ethical disposition—a purity of the heart). In consideration of
this, the followers of Jesus in the Gospels can be viewed in a diachronic way with regard to
purification practices: moving from the observance of common ritual procedures to a more
spiritualized ideology. As noted by Pheme Perkins, this is certainly attested in the above
Markan passage (7:1–23):
Mark and his readers are uninterested in the details of Jewish legal debates. The
explanation Mark provides for the reader … reflects an outsider’s almost sarcastic
view of Jewish customs.
The followers of Jesus in the Gospels are the early predecessors of later followers who
would eventually wholly abandon Jewish legal stipulations in place of the liberating acts of
Jesus.
A DIFFERENT KIND OF VICTORY: 4Q427 7 i–ii AND THE

MAGNIFICAT AS LATER DEVELOPMENTS OF THE HEBREW
VICTORY SONG
Amanda C. Miller
Bless the one doing majestic wonders and showing the strength of his hand,
to seal up mysteries and to uncover hidden things,
to raise up the ones who are stumbling and those of them who are falling,
to restore the walk of those waiting for knowledge
and to lay low the haughty meetings of the eternally proud ones,
to complete majestic mysteries and to establish glorious wonders.
(4Q427 7 i 18b–21a)
He has shown strength with his arm,
he scattered the arrogant because of the thoughts of their hearts.
He threw down rulers from thrones,
and he lifted up lowly ones.
Hungry ones he filled with good things,
and rich ones he sent out empty. (Luke 1:51–53)
1. Introduction
The Magnificat, the poem attributed to Mary in the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel, has long
been noted not only for its beauty, but also for its rich allusions to the Septuagint and its
strong images of radical status reversal. A frequent parallel is drawn to the Hebrew victory
song tradition, particularly Hannah’s song in 1 Sam 2:1–10, which also rejoices in the
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revelation of God’s deliverance through the life of a child. Beyond this contextual
connection, however, more similarities reveal themselves as Mary and Hannah both praise
God for carrying out status reversals, for raising up the poor and powerless while throwing
down and humbling the rich, arrogant, and mighty. Such reversals were a powerful imagery
technique throughout the ancient world, although probably too common to use them to
posit a direct connection between the hymns of Hannah and Mary. Stephen Farris notes that
the Magnificat’s reversals have an equally close relationship with various psalms and
prophetic oracles of the Old Testament. Thus the similarities that are evident between
Hannah’s song and Mary’s song situate them both as poetic expressions of a larger tradition
celebrating God’s dramatic action on behalf of the “least of these.” Aside from Hannah, the
psalms, and the prophets, Mary also echoes other biblical women. Her status as especially
honored by God (Luke 1:48) places her in the company of such prominent figures as Leah
(Gen 30:13), Jael (Judg 5:24), and Judith (Jdt 13:18); the latter two women are also
celebrated in song, and Mary and Leah both acknowledge God’s careful attention to their
ταπείνωσις, that is, lowliness, humility, and state of need (cf. LXX Gen 29:32; Luke
1:48). Kenneth Bailey notes connections between the Magnificat and the Song of the Sea
sung by Moses and echoed by Miriam in Exod 15: both move from personal to communal
praise for God and rhythmically alternate between the themes of salvation for God’s people
and divine judgment on the powerful who oppose them. Indeed, a quick survey of posited
scriptural quotes and allusions for the Magnificat shows that Luke’s infancy stories,
especially the songs, form something of a mosaic or pastiche of Old Testament and
apocryphal language and images, of which I have named only a few here.
Our third evangelist, however, was not alone among turn-of-the-era authors in his
attraction to this “mosaic” technique of allusions and quotations. It is also in abundant
evidence throughout the Dead Sea Scrolls, even inspiring the commonly used title of
4Q174, Florilegium. For this and other reasons, the hymns embedded within the narrative
of the War Scroll (1QM) have also been compared to some degree with Mary’s song. There
is, though, another poem from the Scrolls that should be included in the discussion, as it
embodies many of the same victory song themes as the Magnificat, albeit in a somewhat
different setting: one of the Hodayoth, whose most complete form is found in 4Q427 7 i–ii.
Sometimes referred to as the “self-glorification hymn,” this song appears in several
different manuscripts, yet does not seem to fit easily with the rest of the Hodayoth. Like the
Magnificat, it is voiced by an individual who exhibits an interesting combination of
humility and high honor, and moves from such individual reflections to the corporate
experience of a wider community. It also contains, most significantly for our study, several
sections exalting God as the executor of radical status reversals (i 18b–23; ii 3–7a, 7b–11),
a strong connecting point with the Magnificat. Its poetic nature and celebration of God’s
salvific might against arrogant enemies are shared with the Lukan hymn, but also with the
greater tradition of the Hebrew victory song. Both of these texts can be productively and
informatively placed within this context, providing some illumination for possible audience
expectations about content and Sitz im Leben. But in a similar manner, 4Q427 7 i–ii and
Luke 1:46–55 also inform our understanding of the victory hymn tradition, particularly as
representations of a later development of the genre that shows some significant changes in
eschatological orientation and reversal and resistance themes.
In this study, I shall first introduce the hodayah, as it is much less commonly known
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than the Magnificat, and then proceed to examine the designation “victory hymn.” Four
examples of the genre from the Hebrew Bible, Apocrypha, and the Scrolls (the songs of
Deborah, Hannah, Judith, and the War Scroll) will provide useful points of reference. They
will be briefly considered in turn and then compared with the Magnificat and 4Q427 7 i–ii
in four areas: theology, anthropology, status reversals, and eschatology. I will conclude with
a short summary and consideration of this study’s implications.
2. 4Q427 7 i–ii Among the Hodayoth

This song, referred to as the “self-glorification hymn” because of its opening lines, is
usually singled out from the rest of the Hodayoth. In general, it does not match the layout,
theology, or linguistics of the other sectarian hymns very well, yet it appears multiple times:
in the main hymnic manuscript (1QHa 26) and in several fragments from Cave 4 (4Q431,
4Q471b; cf. 4Q491c; the latter two are usually identified with the War Scroll as well as the
Hodayoth). As mentioned previously, this study will use the more complete version found
in 4Q427 7 i–ii, a document dated by its late Hasmonean or early Herodian cursive script to
75–25 B.C.E.; the poem itself, of course, was likely composed prior to the time of writing.
For ease of reference, I have provided my own translation here, based on the transcription
of Martínez and Tigchelaar.
Column I
(7) … it is not like my instruction.
(8) … Who is like me among the gods?
(9) … and the utterance of my lips who will comprehend?
Who with the tongue will summon me?
(10) I am beloved of the king, friend to the holy ones,
and … will not come (11) with me
And cannot compare to my honor,
for I am with the gods,
my position (12) and my honor is with the children of the king.
I will not crown myself with refined gold,
and the gold of Ophir (13) they did not place upon me …
it will not be considered by me.
Make music, beloved ones!
Sing to the king (14) of glory,
rejoice in the congregation of God,
Give a ringing cry in the tent of salvation,
praise in the holy dwelling place,
(15) Exult together with the eternal army,
ascribe greatness to our God and honor to our King.
(16) Sanctify his name with strong lips and an enduring tongue,
lift your voice as one (17) in all times,
Cause the proclamation to be heard,
pour out eternal rejoicings,
and without (18) ceasing bow down in a united assembly.
Bless the one doing majestic wonders and showing the strength of his hand,
(19) to seal up mysteries and to uncover hidden things,
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to raise up the ones who are stumbling and those of them who are falling,
(20) to restore the walk of those waiting for knowledge
and to lay low the haughty meetings of the eternally proud ones,
(21) to complete majestic mysteries and to establish glorious wonders.
He judges with destructive anger
(22) … with kindness, righteousness, and with abundant compassion.
A supplication …
(23) … compassion to those who make fruitful his goodness and greatness,
and a source …
Column II
(3) … raging behavior …
(4) … and there are no sins that are not known.
Light shines out, and rejoicing will flourish …
(5) … mourning, and sorrow flees.
Peace shines out, terror ceases.
A source has been opened for eternal blessing,
(6) and (there is) healing in all eternal times.
Iniquity is at an end, plague ceases,
so that there is no disease.
… has been removed.
(7) … and it will be no more.
Proclaim and say:
Great is God, who is doing wonders,
(8) for he has laid low the exalted of spirit so that there is not a remnant,
and he has raised the needy from the dust so that …
(9) and as far as the clouds he will make him mighty in stature,
and with the gods in the united congregation.
And he will heal him …
(10) anger for eternal destruction.
And the ones stumbling to the earth he will raise up, so that there is no price,
and eternal might (11) is in their steps,
and eternal rejoicing in their established places,
enduring honor, and without ceasing …
(12) And they will say,
“Blessed be God,
the one doing majestic wonders and making himself great,
so that his might shines out …
(13) with knowledge for all his works, and goodness upon their faces,
in their knowledge, in his many kindnesses,
and his abundant (14) mercies to all the children of his truth.
We have known you, O God of righteousness,
and we have understood … (15) the honor,
for we have seen your zeal in the power of your might,
and we have recognized … (16) your mercies,
and the wonder of forgiveness.
What is flesh to these things, and what is …?
(17) to recount these things for all time,
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and take one’s position … (18) the children of the heavens,
and there is no interpreter to answer a matter … (19) to you,
for you established me according to your goodwill …
(20) power to return to you, to hear your wonders …
(21) We have spoken to you and not to a fighting man …
(22) … ear to the utterance of our lips.”
They have proclaimed and said …
(23) the heavens in his power and all their thoughts …
… earth with his might …
The song opens with the so-called “self-glorification” section, one of its distinguishing
features. In the first few extant lines, the speaker compares himself or herself with the gods
and claims to be “beloved (‫ )ידיד‬of the king, friend to the holy ones,” whose “honor is
with the children of the king” (i 10–12a). It switches very quickly, though, to a larger
section that evokes a feeling of communal worship and praise, as the speaker issues plural
imperatives to the hearers or readers (called ( ‫ ידידים‬in i 13) to make music, sing, rejoice,
cry out, praise, exult, sanctify, bow down, and give greatness and blessing to God (i 13–18;
ii 7, 12). Such plural imperative forms, and the first person plural verbs used repeatedly in
ii 12–22, are quite rare in the usually individual-focused Hodayoth. This juxtaposition of
glorified individual and worshipping community has led to some confusion in classifying
this hymn as a Teacher or Community hodayah, identifying a possible author, and positing
the intended identity of the speaker. Schuller, noting its uniquely communal and liturgical
aspects, identifies it as a community hymn of praise, but Collins and Dimant call attention
to the Teacher characteristics as well, particularly the exceedingly distinctive position of the
speaker in i 7–13a. This particular song, then, seems to break from the usual classifications
and instead combines the thoughts of both the individual sectarian member and the
community as a whole within one text.
A few more points are important to note for our study. First, the speaker’s sentiments
about his or her very exalted position are quite unusual compared to the low view of
humanity normally taken by the sectarian hymns (e.g. 1QHa 5:20b–22a: “What is someone
born of woman among all your awesome works? He is a structure of dust fashioned with
water, his counsel is the [iniquity] of sin, shame of dishonor and so[urce of] impurity, and a
depraved spirit rules over him”). In a like manner, the gathered community is also viewed
highly, addressed as ‫“( ידידים‬beloved,” “companions,” “friends”) in i 13, rather than the
more usual Hodayoth referent for humans as ‫“( עפר‬dust”). This lack of reflection on
human lowliness is accompanied by the complete absence of any confession of sin, a
normally important piece of post-exilic prayer as evidenced in the Scrolls and other
contemporaneous communities: a leader blesses God and the congregation responds,
followed by a confession of sin and a declaration of God’s justice. 4Q427 7 i–ii fits this
overall pattern with the exception of the confession; instead it dwells repeatedly on God’s
divine characteristics and extensive acts of justice, particularly through status reversals. A
sharp contrast is drawn between the proud ( ‫גאים‬, i 20b) or arrogant (‫גבהות‬, ii 8a) and
the poor or needy (‫אביון‬, ii 8b); the former are humiliated and brought low ( ‫)שפל‬, while
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the latter are raised up and exalted by God ( ‫)רום‬, even as God is raised up and exalted by
the community (i 15). These reversals are concentrated in several places, namely in the first
and second doxological sections (i 18b–23 and ii 7b–11) and an eschatological section in
between (ii 3–7a). This latter is another characteristic of 4Q427 7 i–ii that is quite unusual
for the Hodayoth. Its focus is on the reversals that will occur in the final restoration as God
replaces all evil in the world with blessing and good. The usual eschatology for these
hymns deals more with upheaval, battle, and the defeat of evil than with restoration and
blessing (but see a single-line parallel to our text in 1QHa 19:26).
These observations, together with a scarcity of typically sectarian language, have led
some scholars to posit 4Q427 7 i–ii’s original independence from the rest of the Hodayoth,
and perhaps from the Scrolls community entirely. The only truly explicit sectarian
references are found in ii 16, as the author is discussing the compassion and forgiveness of
God and asks the classic Hodayoth question, “What is flesh to these things?”; and in ii 14,
where God’s kindness and compassion are said to be given to “all the children of his truth.”
The rarity of these references gives rise to the possibility (although admittedly it is only a
possibility) that this might be an outside composition that was taken over and reworked by
the Scrolls community. The association of this hymn with possible War Scroll fragments
(4Q471b and 4Q491c) also indicates that it was likely a fluid tradition in the Scrolls library,
and, significantly, reinforces my proposed designation of 4Q427 7 i–ii as a later
development, alongside the Magnificat, of the Hebrew victory song tradition, a
phenomenon to which we shall now turn in more detail.
3. The Victory Song “Genre”

Victory songs have been classified somewhat confusingly by form critics, and there is no
clear scholarly consensus on their exact definitions or elements. Yet the existence of the
tradition itself is seldom questioned, as it is to be found not only among the Israelites, but
also in other cultures of the ancient Near East, for example, the inscriptions on stelae from
such Egyptian rulers as Thutmose III, Amenhotep III, and Merneptah. These songs all
include a poetic celebration of the respective ruler’s military victories, put into the mouth of
the deity who praises the ruler as his son and recounts the many victories that have been
granted to him, usually in a formulaic setting. Although there are obviously significant
differences, such examples do establish that the celebration of military victory in poem or
song was a common practice, perhaps connected to an ancient tradition of women greeting
their victorious warriors with music, songs, and dancing.
From a form-critical perspective, victory songs are often portrayed as both the origin of
thanksgiving psalms, and as a specific subset of them. In Mowinckel’s view, the
congregational thank-offering psalm grew out of the traditional victory song and eventually
encompassed other areas of life besides war, but he also then lists victory songs under
public thanksgiving psalms. He defines the thanksgiving psalm as “an adaptation of the
hymn to some individual, specific, divine work of salvation. It seeks to give honour and
praise to God for some definite benefit and thank him for it … it will also witness to his
honour before [people] and therefore turns to them.” Gerstenberger also relates
thanksgiving songs to victories, among other things, saying that they are “jubilant cultic
songs to celebrate victory, divine help, good harvests, and all sorts of joyful occasions.”
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Westermann, on the other hand, is more stringent in his classification; for him, an actual
battle must take place in order to give a hymn the designation “song of victory.”
It appears, then, that the victory song is not truly a form-critical designation, but one
based on content. The form of a victory song is simply that of a thanksgiving psalm or a
hymn of praise, often including both individual and congregational sections, as can indeed
be seen in both the Scrolls song and, to a lesser degree, the Magnificat. It is mainly,
however, the content of the victory songs which separates them out and links them to one
another. Some of these important identifying characteristics include the following: military
language and imagery, a setting involving some kind of triumph (in war or otherwise), a
reprisal of the enemy’s threat and the heroic actions of the battle, joy and pride in the
people’s show of power, and ultimate attribution of the victory to God’s saving actions.
Because of this direct divine intervention, the songs often extolled God’s strength, power,
and might as the Savior of the people. The idea that this story, including the deeds of God
and the deeds of the humans through whom God worked, will be remembered by future
generations is usually included. The common war-like setting of victory hymns leads to a
nationalistic bent, expounding upon God’s love and mercy for the chosen people Israel and
their often-miraculous escapes from danger.
The examples of victory songs in the Hebrew Bible are extensive; Exod 15, Deut 33,
Pss 68, 98, and 118, and Hab 3, for example, have all been proposed as fitting this genre or
at least some of its motifs. I have, however, chosen four specific victory songs from the
Hebrew Bible, the Apocrypha, and the Dead Sea Scrolls to compare with 4Q427 7 i–ii and
the Magnificat: the song of Deborah and Barak (Judg 5), Hannah’s prayer (2 Sam 2:1–10),
Judith’s song of praise (Jdt 15:14–16:17), and the victory song or “Hymn of Return” in the
War Scroll (1QM 14:4b–18). The first three are attributed to women, like Mary’s song, and
the fourth is found in the Dead Sea Scrolls, like the hodayah, and offers another parallel
from the Second Temple period.
Like the Magnificat and 4Q427 7 i–ii, these four songs make use of military language
and imagery with regard to the people themselves, but especially concerning God, perhaps
related to the Divine Warrior tradition. They all relate, either explicitly or implicitly, the
struggle and threat facing God’s people and their eventual victory over the enemy. There is
a celebration of the divine deeds and intervention that led to the victory; God is praised,
blessed, and exalted for wondrous salvation acts. In addition, though, individual humans are
also lifted up, celebrated, and usually blessed for their heroic and faithful deeds. This is a
distinctive feature of these particular victory songs that is not found in many others. Several
of these songs are explicitly connected with women, although not, unsurprisingly, those
from the Scrolls corpus. One final common, but not universal, theme is that of status
reversals. The victory hymns often rejoice in the poor, hungry, and lowly being lifted up
and made strong, while the arrogant, rich, and powerful are brought low by the hand of
God. The song of Deborah and Barak is a possible exception to this, but the defeat of Sisera
at the hands of the woman Jael and the pivotal military role played by Deborah can be
viewed as something of a reversal in and of themselves. These songs, as we have them
today, are generally connected to a narrative setting; 4Q427 7 i–ii is the only one found in a
poetic collection. Every individual victory song of course deviates slightly from this
pattern. I will briefly outline some particular characteristics of the first four songs, and we
shall then deal more extensively with the theology and themes of the hymns found in the
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4Q427 7 i–ii and the Magnificat.
The song of Deborah and Barak in Judg 5 is regarded as one of the earliest examples of
the Hebrew victory hymn. It is somewhat different from the later songs we will consider,
functioning mainly as a poetic retelling of a story already told in prose, and probably
predates its current setting (as do many of the victory songs). It opens with a command to
the people to bless God and tell of the mighty divine acts for the people of Israel (vv. 2–5),
and then moves into a description of the actions of the people, including Deborah (vv. 6–
12), Barak (v. 12), the various tribes (vv. 13–18), and finally Jael’s defeat of Sisera (vv. 24–
27). It closes with an ironic scene that serves to emphasize the arrogance of Israel’s enemy
through the mouth of Sisera’s mother (vv. 28–31). The people are encouraged to remember
and repeat (vv. 10–11) the victory of the Hebrews and the presence of God in battle with
them (vv. 4–5). There are no overt reversal statements as we find in other victory hymns,
although the story itself contains some exceptional status reversals as mentioned above.
The battle is led by Deborah, with the male commander Barak acting as second in
command; Sisera is slain by a woman, but she is a housewife named Jael rather than the
judge and warrior Deborah; the wealthy mother of mighty Sisera imagines him bringing
home riches and captive Israelite girls, but instead he is dead and she is the one who will
mourn.
The song of Hannah (1 Sam 2:1–10), on the other hand, is not actually related to a war
or battle victory at all. It is set during the dedication of the boy Samuel to God’s service in
the Temple. His once-barren mother Hannah interprets the situation as God granting her
victory. Despite this domestic setting, however, the language is decidedly warlike. It
celebrates the defeat of the enemies of both the speaker (v. 1) and of Yahweh (v. 10). This
hymn also makes extensive use of reversal imagery in vv. 4–9; in fact, it is the most
extended status reversal section of these four victory songs. The contrasts made by Hannah
are many and varied and only slightly connected to her own situation: the mighty and the
feeble, the full and the hungry, the barren and the fertile, death and life, the poor and the
rich, the needy and the princes, the faithful and the wicked. Those who speak arrogantly are
specifically singled out and reminded that the weak and powerless will be saved at the
expense of the strong and powerful (vv. 3–4).
The song of Judith (Jdt 15:14–16:17) is a combination of the first two, taking different
aspects from each. Like Deborah’s hymn, it recounts the story of a great and unexpected
victory where the people of Israel are saved by the hand of a woman. The two songs also
share a similar structure, beginning with a call to praise God (16:1–2), reciting the
arrogance and threat of the enemy (16:3–4), and finally relating Judith’s singular action in
beguiling and slaying the enemy leader (16:5–10). The status reversals here, however, are
more explicit than in Judg 5 (although still quite distinct from those of Hannah’s song). The
people are called weak and oppressed, but the enemy is terrified merely at their shouts.
Even the low-status “sons of slave girls” are said to help in the defeat of the enemy (16:11–
12). The greatness and vengeance of God are exalted, along with the divine mercy and
honor given to the God-fearing people (16:13–16). As many songs of thanksgiving do, this
song contains both individual and congregational sections of praise, but somewhat
unusually they are in the reverse order, with the congregational call first (16:1) and the
individual praise much later (16:13–16).
The final victory hymn to consider is, like 4Q427 7 i–ii, found among the Dead Sea
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Scrolls. This “Hymn of Return” sung by the victorious children of light after the great
eschatological battle of the War Scroll is found in 1QM 14:4b–18. It definitely includes
much sectarian theology and language, but many traditional themes of the victory hymn are
also present. Obviously, like Judith and Deborah, it is set in the context of battle, although
the battle reprisal so prominent in those two songs is much more generalized here. While
God’s mighty power is praised, the quality most often associated with the deity in this song
is ‫“( חסד‬kindness,” “mercy,” “covenant loyalty,” “steadfast love”). The reversal themes
are also present, but they are nuanced specifically for the battle setting (as in Jdt 16) and to
fit into the ideology of the Scrolls community. The tottering, the feeble, the fearful, and the
dumb are lifted up and strengthened, but this is done specifically for the purposes of war
and battle (lines 5b–7). The poor are also mentioned, but they are the poor in spirit, not
necessarily those who are actually economically disadvantaged. A very classic reversal
emphasizing the ultimate fate of the arrogant is found in line 11: “You lift up the fallen ones
with your strength, and those who are arrogant in stature you cut down to lay them low.”
When the presence of war language, reversal imagery, and battle setting are considered,
these four victory hymns seem to line up on a continuum. Deborah’s song, the earliest, uses
the most straightforward war imagery. The song of Judith and the War Scroll hymn are also
close to this model. Sung after a battle, they both bring in themes of divine reversal, but
only so that the poor and weak might be strong enough to fight their enemies. Reversal is
present, but it serves to advance the cause of war rather than that of social justice. Hannah’s
prayer moves a little further along the continuum. It is triumphant over the defeat of the
singer’s enemies, but this defeat does not come through battle. Instead, it is accomplished
(according to the current context in 1 Samuel) through the birth of a child and his
subsequent dedication to God, an act of life and nurture rather than death. Of these four
hymns, the reversal themes are strongest in Hannah and in such a context carry emphatic
connotations of divine concern and justice for those who are without power or protection.
4. The Magnificat and 4Q427 7 i–ii Among the Victory Hymns

As the following examination of themes and theology will show, both the Magnificat and
the hodayah in 4Q427 7 i–ii are at home in the tradition of the victory hymn, but they are at
the far end of the continuum. The Magnificat, despite its Greek language, is nearly as
deeply Jewish in form, vocabulary, and tradition as is the hodayah. Raymond Brown points
out that the closest parallels to Mary’s song are all intertestamental victory hymns, such as
those found in 1 Maccabees, Judith, the Hodayoth (1QHa), and the War Scroll (1QM). Both
of our focus texts emphasize the image of God as Savior (the Magnificat makes not even a
mention of Jesus) and share vocabulary and phraseology with the Hebrew Bible and the
Septuagint. Particularly important is their use of Hebrew poetic techniques such as
parallelism and repetition, which serve to keep the reader from moving too quickly to the
next thought, encouraging meditation and participation. Another shared technique that is
not quite as common is that of scriptural allusions, defined by Julie A. Hughes as “a
reference which is recognized by a reader as referring to a textual source, knowledge of
which contributes to the meaning for the reader.” It is not a direct quotation, but a veiled
(yet still definite) reference. This technique is much in evidence in the Dead Sea Scrolls and
in the Lukan narrative, especially the birth stories. Such allusions invoke the authority of
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well-known sources, promote a sense of solidarity and insider knowledge, and put two texts
in “hermeneutical dialogue” with each other. Thus we see that it is not a stretch to connect
the Greek Magnificat with this very Jewish tradition of victory songs, and to place 4Q427 7
i–ii in the same category, especially as some of their allusions are to the victory songs
already discussed.
Like the victory songs discussed above, Mary and the speaker of the hodayah celebrate
the mighty acts of God for both individuals and communities, proclaim status reversals, and
use some military language and imagery. Yet, as already mentioned, they must be placed at
the opposite end of the continuum from a song like that of Deborah. There is no war or
enemy mentioned in Luke 1 or in the hodayah, and the main military references allude to
God’s power and strength. The human heroes celebrated are not great warriors; rather, the
Magnificat is sung by a young pregnant woman, and the speaker of the Scrolls song, though
highly exalted, is no warrior, but like a prince or a “holy one.” Their main purpose is to
praise God for divine might and divine mercy, as shown to those beloved by and fearing
God, through wondrous deeds and radical acts of social reversal. Such similarities add to
previously identified commonalities between the Lukan hymns and the Hodayoth in
general: praise and thanksgiving, God’s salvific work, revealed knowledge through chosen
interpreters, and the contrast of the humility of humans with the might and glory of God.
With these connections as a starting point, we will look at the image and role of God, the
image and role of humans, themes of reversal, and eschatology in victory songs in general,
and in 4Q427 7 i–ii and the Magnificat in particular.
a. Theology
These two songs exhibit a theology quite similar to one another that also fits very well with
the traditional God of the victory hymns. God is strong, powerful, and mighty with his hand
in the hodayah (i 18b) and his arm in the Magnificat (Luke 1:51). A plethora of synonyms
is used to describe this divine power: ‫ גבורה‬,‫ כוח‬,‫ כבוד‬,‫( גדול‬i 15–18; ii 12–16),
δυνατός, κράτος (Luke 1:49, 51). God is seen as working ‫“( נפלאות‬wonders,” i 18;
ii 12) and μεγάλα (“great things,” Luke 1:49). But God is also loving, caring, and
nurturing to God’s people. In 4Q427 7 i–ii, the ‫ חסד‬and ‫ רחם‬of God are emphasized
over and over again in these same passages of praise, along with the divine ‫טוב‬ and
‫צדק‬, while the Magnificat’s word of choice is ἔλεος (Luke 1:50, 54). God has acted to
help both the individual and the community, but it is not entirely universal. Both hymns
qualify the extent of God’s mercy: it is to “those who make fruitful his great goodness”
(4Q427 7 i 23), to “all the children of his truth” (4Q427 7 ii 13–14), and to “the ones who
fear him” (Luke 1:50). These sentiments fit seamlessly with the theology of the victory
hymn. God is portrayed as both mighty and tender, strong yet merciful. The great deeds of
the Lord are lifted up and celebrated by the people who have been blessed by them. Judith’s
song, like the Magnificat, speaks of God’s mercy for those who fear him (Jdt 16:15), and
Hannah and 4Q427 7 i–ii share the association of God with ‫“( דעת‬knowledge,” 1 Sam
2:3; 4Q427 7 ii 13).
b. Image of Humanity
On the theme of anthropology, our two hymns show slightly more variation. There is a
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slight tension throughout; is humanity merely flesh and dust, or do people help God work
the divine wonders? The traditional victory song does not emphasize human weakness and
frailty, even as it exalts and glorifies God. People such as Deborah, Judith, and Jael are held
up for their brave and courageous deeds, but God is still acknowledged to be the one who
ultimately made the victory possible. How, then, does this compare with the role of
humanity as presented in these later songs?
Both the speaker and the greater community in the Magnificat and 4Q427 7 i–ii are
glorified as divinely favored. The Scrolls song, as noted before, has been set apart from the
rest of the Hodayoth, which are generally self-debasing, for this very reason. The narrators
of both hymns speak of themselves as having unusual glory, honor, or status. In the
introduction of the hodayah, the word ‫כבוד‬, which usually refers to God, is ascribed to the
human author, who sets himself on the highest level possible, with the sons of the king and
the holy ones (i 7–13). Likewise, the Magnificat author refers to herself in Luke 1:48 as
being looked upon by God with care, favor, and respect (ἐπέβλεψεν), and she will be
called “fortunate,” “blessed,” and “honoured” (μακαριούσιν) by future generations. One
of the most striking claims made in both hymns is the power of humans, both the speakers
and the hearers of the text, to add to God’s glory. Whereas in other victory hymns, God’s
mercy and intervention allows humans to gain glory, here the speaker of the Magnificat
enlarges (μεγαλύνει) the Lord (Luke 1:46), and the community of the hodayah is able to
ascribe greatness and glory to God the King (i 15).
There is, however, some ambivalence present in this rather high anthropology. In the
victory song reversal themes, almost without fail, human arrogance is pictured as the
supreme folly. This designation appears repeatedly, possibly representing those who show
no need of God or divine aid. The proud, haughty, and “exalted of spirit” are brought low
by the action of God, to be replaced by the lowly and the poor, those previously thought to
be powerless and now shown to be strong and victorious in the Lord. 4Q427 7 i–ii fits this
profile relatively well, although it elevates the faithful even higher than might be expected.
When God raises up the stumbling ones in ii 10–11, they are raised almost to the level of
the divine, being described by words like ‫ גבורה‬and ‫כבוד‬, honorifics previously
attributed to God. Its only real concession to humanity’s lowly status is the question asked
in response to God’s compassion and forgiveness, “What is flesh to these things?” (ii 16).
The Magnificat, however, takes a more down-to-earth view of humanity. Mary, while
acknowledging the care shown to her by God, also emphasizes her own ταπείνωσις
(lowly estate, humility) and her status as a slave (δούλη) in Luke 1:48. This humble
attitude sets the Magnificat apart from other victory hymns, including 4Q427 7 i–ii, whose
triumphant natures do not generally include very much humility on the part of the victors.
c. Themes of Reversal
The explicit reversal themes of 4Q427 7 i–ii and the Magnificat find their closest parallels
in the song of Hannah. The reversals in the hymns of Judges, Judith, and the War Scroll are
present, but more implicit and implemented mainly for the purposes of the present battle. In
Judg 5, Deborah takes command and Jael kills Sisera because the men were apparently not
going to get the job done. In both Judith’s song and the War Scroll, God strengthens the
weak and those of lower status so that they can fight in the pivotal battle. Even Hannah’s
reversals use clear military imagery: “The bows of the mighty are shattered, but the
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stumbling ones gird on strength” (1 Sam 2:4). But the Magnificat and the hodayah seem to
have moved beyond these connotations of war to a more general idea of God’s work in the
world. As noted by Hugo Zorilla, these types of reversals transcend nationalistic concern to
become universal representations of God’s revolutionary power.
The primary reversal imagery in these two poems is vertical (especially in i 18–21; ii 7–
11; Luke 1:51–53). God lifts up and raises from the dust the poor, the lowly, and those who
have fallen. God also throws down and lowers the princes, those who are rich, and
especially the arrogant and proud. 4Q427 7 i–ii seems to have a special concern with those
who have fallen or stumbled into the earth and dust, and how God is lifting them up (see i
19; ii 8, 10). The Magnificat, on the other hand, expands on this vertical imagery to include
also an account of the hungry being filled with good things while the rich are sent away
empty (1:53). This particular reversal forms a chiasm with the previous verse, pointing to
the lowly and the hungry in the center: princes thrown down-the lowly lifted up-the hungry
filled-the rich sent away empty. Robert Tannehill also notes a triangular tension between
the humble (represented in the Lukan context by Mary), the powerful, arrogant, and
oppressive worldly rulers, and the positive power and might of God.
One issue that is often raised with regard to these reversals is whether they were meant
literally or symbolically. There seem to be examples of both interpretations among the
victory hymns themselves. Hannah’s song includes a contrast between a barren wife and
one who has many children (1 Sam 2:5b), a very literal reference to Hannah’s own
situation. Raymond Brown has noted, though, that the idea of the “poor” (anawim) in post-
exilic times became something of a symbol for the faithful pious remnant of Israel. This
certainly seems to be the case within the Scrolls community. The War Scroll specifically
mentions the poor in spirit in the Hymn of Return (1QM xiv 7), and in the Messiah of
Heaven and Earth, the poor appear in synonymous parallelism with the pious, the
righteous, and the faithful (4Q521 ii 5–8). The Lukan context of the Magnificat, however,
would imply a more literal understanding of these reversals. In the rest of the Gospel, Jesus
tends to act out the proclaimed reversal principles very literally; for example, his beatitudes
bless the poor and the hungry (Luke 6:20–21), not, as in Matthew, the poor in spirit and
those who hunger for righteousness (Matt 5:3, 6).
d. Eschatology
The eschatological focus found in both 4Q427 7 i–ii and the Magnificat is unique in the
victory hymn genre. The song of Judith mentions, in its final verse, the coming “day of
judgment” when God will punish Israel’s enemy nations (Jdt 16:17), and Hannah’s prayer
alludes to a future time of judgment when “the wicked shall be cut off in darkness” (1 Sam
2:9–10). Yet for the most part, these are passing references in works that deal mainly with
God’s past actions of salvation. The victory hymn in the War Scroll is of course a notable
exception, being set in the midst of an apocalyptic battle, but this is not surprising coming
from the very eschatologically focused Scrolls community. Interestingly, Westermann wrote
the following in 1965: “In the later history of Israel the song of victory could live on only
as an eschatological song that anticipated the coming victory of Yahweh.” He did not find
any real evidence of this in the texts available at the time, but an eschatological
development of the victory song is precisely what we see and will proceed to examine in
4Q427 7 i–ii and the Magnificat.
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The eschatological imagery is more explicit in the hodayah than it is in Mary’s song,
but it is nevertheless present in both. This is most notable in the second column of 4Q427 7,
which begins in the midst of an eschatological section describing the disappearance of all
evil from the world and the coming reign of all that is good and peaceful (ii 3–7a). The
timing of this event is somewhat unclear, due to the mixture of perfect and imperfect tense
verbs, leading to the possibility of a realized eschatology in this song. Perhaps the best
argument for this is that, as Schuller notes, the vision is followed by the command to praise
God now, in the present, rather than “on that day,” which is more common elsewhere.
Otherwise, though, the eschatology of 4Q427 7 i–ii is one of the few areas where it fits
better with the Hodayoth, which typically express gratitude both for God’s past acts of
deliverance and for the promised deliverance in the “last days,” than with the Hebrew
victory song tradition.
The Magnificat is less forward with its eschatological views, but its realized
eschatology is still generally recognized. Whereas the verbs of 4Q427 7 i–ii are imperfect,
almost all verbs in the Magnificat are in the aorist tense, which could be argued to
symbolize either past action or a general characteristic of God’s work in the world. The
reversals themselves and some of the vocabulary in this canticle have strong eschatological
overtones. For example, ἀπὸ νῦν can sometimes imply the beginning of eschatological
time, and phrases like εἰς γενεὰς καὶ γενεάς and εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα are also
eschatological markers parallel to the hodayah’s ‫ קצי עולם‬and ‫( מקץ לקץ‬ii 6 17).
Additionally, the Magnificat’s setting in the Gospel of Luke emphasizes its eschatological
import quite clearly, at least as interpreted by the author who preserved this song in
connection with the birth of Jesus of Nazareth. Thus we have in both of these songs
eschatological components that are much more well-developed than those in other victory
hymns, perhaps due to their later dates of composition, at a time when apocalypticism was
very popular.
5. Conclusion
In conclusion, the evidence seems to indicate that both the Magnificat and the hodayah in
4Q427 7 i–ii were originally composed in the tradition of the Hebrew victory song and only
later placed in their current settings, thus confirming the hunches of Scrolls and Lukan
scholars. The theology, anthropology, reversal themes, and military imagery of these two
hymns identify them as the inheritors of victory hymn singers such as Deborah, Hannah,
and Judith. Their eschatology, expanded reversal theology, and blunted martial tone,
however, set them slightly apart as a later development in the tradition. This designation, of
course, brings up many fascinating questions about which we can only speculate. What is a
tradition so strongly associated with women doing in the poetic collection of an apparently
predominantly (although not exclusively) male group such as the Scrolls community? What
might have caused these hymns to be adopted by the author of Luke and the compiler of the
Hodayoth?
I would like to venture just a few short observations as a start in exploring these
questions. Anthropologist and political scientist James C. Scott notes that the reversal or
“world-upside-down” imagery so prominent in these two songs is a common feature in
peasant, serf, and slave cultures, often as part of what he calls the “hidden transcript of
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resistance” against domination. Reversal of the status quo was one of the many strategies
powerless groups used to express their dissatisfaction with the state of subordination in
which they lived, while at the same time avoiding the very dangerous and likely fatal step
of out-and-out revolt. It makes sense, then, that such reversal themes gained more and more
prominence in the later victory hymns, written when early Judaism and early Christianity
were both struggling with the problems of domination by Jerusalem elites, illegitimate
client rulers, and ultimately the Roman Empire.
Gordon Zerbe argues that both of these groups identified and stood in solidarity with
“the poor.” I would offer a more nuanced understanding of this statement. The two
movements were indeed politically and economically marginalized from the ruling classes
(although somewhat by choice, especially in the case of the Dead Sea Scrolls), but there is a
slight difference in identifying oneself as “the poor” and being in solidarity with them. The
Scrolls community saw themselves as the Anawim—the faithful pious remnant. They likely
viewed the promised reversals of 4Q427 7 i–ii as vindication for their faithfulness. The
Lukan Jesus movement, on the other hand, seemed to interpret the Magnificat’s reversals
quite literally, referring to actual humility, hunger, and poverty, and they sought to carry
them out in the world, as Jesus did. This is closer to the solidarity posited by Zerbe.
We must also note a slight difference in the two groups’ implementation of these
potentially resistant reversals. The Scrolls community was already in a state of open
resistance against the Jerusalem temple authorities, so the presence of such a possibly
incendiary song is not surprising. They were easily able to adopt it into their collection of
psalms and essentially espouse it as part of their beliefs. The Gospel of Luke, on the other
hand, was likely written to Jesus-followers living in the daily presence of Roman imperial
might. Thus this socially subversive song of reversals has to be couched within a story,
sung by a character rather than openly voiced by the Lukan community. We should not,
however, make the mistake of thinking that this would have blunted its message for an
oppressed people; it merely added a protective layer of anonymity to their call for justice
and equality. Both the Scrolls community and the early Jesus movement sang these songs
of victory as an affirmation—for themselves and for those with whom they were in conflict
—that God was actively working for justice in the world.
BIBLICAL PROPHECY AND THE FATE OF THE NATIONS IN

EARLY JEWISH AND CHRISTIAN INTERPRETATIONS OF ISAIAH
Adam Gregerman
1. Introduction
In this essay I seek to investigate how a study of exegesis of Isaiah’s phrase “light for/to the
nations/peoples” (42:6; 49:6; 51:4) and the few surrounding verses can be used to
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contribute to our understanding of a wide divide in early Jewish and Christian attitudes
toward a mission to the Gentiles. I consider how some Jews and Christians, through their
interpretations of the biblical text, thought about Gentiles, and especially their ultimate
fates, as well as their motivations for either preaching or not preaching about their religious
beliefs to Gentiles. I have chosen to track this one biblical phrase as a way to comparatively
assess roughly contemporaneous views toward proselytism. It appears in works concerned
with the Gentiles, in both Jewish texts from the late Second Temple period (roughly the last
few centuries B.C.E. and first century C.E.) and in Luke-Acts, an early Christian text
especially focused on a Gentile mission.
We find in the late Second Temple period Jewish texts numerous interpretations of this
phrase, from a time prior to or contemporaneous with Luke, and I have chosen from them
some prominent examples. By comparing it with Luke, it will be clear that the phrase has in
the Jewish texts very different meanings. Luke, I demonstrate, uses it at key moments in his
work when he defends the Gentile mission and the creation of Gentile churches.
Revealingly, the same phrase, when cited in late Second Temple Jewish literature, is never
given a similar application to justify missionary activity. This reflects a wide divide
between Christian (in this case, Lukan) and non-Christian Jewish attitudes toward the
Gentiles and specifically toward proselytism, one that is especially clear in the second
volume of Luke’s two-volume work. As I argue, different goals prompt different
interpretations of Isaiah, and helpfully reveal the ways that Jews and Christians
appropriated aspects of the biblical tradition to very different ends.
I begin by looking at attitudes toward a Gentile mission in Luke-Acts and in late
Second Temple Judaism. I first consider Luke’s views, and highlight the prominence he
gives to this theme. Then, I review the current scholarly consensus that Jews in the late
Second Temple period were almost without exception uninterested in and sometimes hostile
to precisely the types of missionary activities that Luke values most highly. Though
persuasive, this relatively recent consensus has seldom been applied to comparative studies
of Jewish and Christian exegesis. Next, I turn to exegesis of the Isaian phrase. I briefly
situate it in its biblical and historical context. However, my focus is not on the original
meaning of the phrase itself but on interpretations of it in passages from Luke-Acts and late
Second Temple Jewish texts that reveal different attitudes toward the Gentiles and the
desirability of efforts to bring them, in the present, into one’s religious community. These
two groups of texts are the main foci of the present study. A comparative exegesis
demonstrates wide divergences between, on the one hand, Luke, and on the other, late
Second Temple Jews, that are significant for understanding how scriptural interpretation is
used to support diverse approaches to theologically and socially complex issues of mission
and conversion.
2. Luke-Acts and a Mission to the Gentiles

Scholars have long recognized the centrality of the Gentile mission in the first few
generations of Christianity, and above all in Luke’s two-volume work. The first volume,
Luke’s Gospel, contains important indications of the future expansion of Christianity
beyond the land and people of Israel. Luke provides the attentive reader with hints about
events that will occur, in some cases, decades later. The second volume, Acts of the
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Apostles, narrates the remarkable spread of faith to the far reaches of the Roman Empire.
Through the zealous and indefatigable efforts of Peter, Philip, Paul, and others, many
Gentiles, and some Jews, hear their message about Jesus and come to believe in him. The
mission slowly gathers steam until it bursts forth in ch. 10 with the conversion of Cornelius.
After this paradigmatic event, the conversion of the Gentiles becomes the dominant
narrative trajectory of the work. Paul’s contributions are especially significant. While the
mission did not originate with him, during his lengthy and dangerous journeys he not only
boldly proclaims the word of God but plants and tends to new communities of believers.
This mission is a fulfillment of God’s plan for all people. It begins with successful
preaching and eventually leads to the growth of communities filled with Gentile believers.
This last result is remarkable and long-lasting. The founding of new churches and
creation of communities of Gentile believers inaugurates a major change in the
constituency and organization of the early Jesus movement. This change goes beyond the
outcomes in vague stories about one or a few Gentiles being convinced by a Christian
preacher’s claims about Jesus. For example, in both Acts 8:38 (the Ethiopian eunuch) and
10:48 (Cornelius), after dramatic scenes of successful preaching followed by Gentile
baptism, the preachers disappear. There is no indication of a broader mission, nor is any
Christian community planted. However, after these and other early scenes, the missionaries
begin to do more than preach and baptize. They are not “simply traveling evangelists, but
are leaders of communities who are concerned for their identity and stability.” Preaching to
large groups and setting up communities are their preeminent goals. Already in Syrian
Antioch, before Paul’s work begins, Luke narrates the birth of these local communities,
now called “churches,” a noteworthy first use of the term for Gentile believers (Acts
11:26). After this he describes similar groups of Gentiles gathering together in local
congregations. Importantly, they are called “disciples” and “brothers,” terms formerly
reserved for Jews.
Luke says it was God’s will that a mission to the Gentiles, followed by the founding of
churches of Gentiles, should succeed. This was an immediate and present outcome, the
fruits of zealous preaching. These groups, in which all believers (including Gentiles) are
welcomed as equal members of the church, are new, indeed model types of faith
communities. Instead of the Jewish (both Christian and non-Christian) communities that
welcomed Gentiles as visitors without extending full membership, these communities
welcomed all who had faith in Christ, whether Jew or non-Jew. Actually, by Luke’s time,
probably late in the first-century, churches had become increasingly, perhaps overwhelming
Gentile, while there had been little success among Jews. His narrative of the expansion
produces a portrait of scattered Christian communities—largely urban, largely Gentile,
largely indifferent or opposed to observance of the Torah’s commandments—undoubtedly
familiar to his own readers.
Luke wants to demonstrate that there is nothing accidental or incidental about the
Gentile mission. On the contrary, he believes that God had always intended for the Gentiles
to be welcomed as Gentiles (i.e. not as Torah-observant converts to Judaism) into the young
churches. Luke justifies the successful Gentile mission, along with the surprisingly
disappointing failure to convince many Jews of the claims made about Jesus, in a number
of ways: with accounts of miracles, speeches, and citations of the Hebrew Bible. It is the
last category I want to focus on, the use of Scriptural proof-texts, for these texts constitute
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an essential defense of the Gentile mission, which was controversial not only among Jews
but even among Jewish Christians. Luke’s emphasis on the divine imperative to preach to
Gentiles and to found non-Torah-observant communities of Gentiles relies on his
application of passages from Scripture. These are valuable sources of legitimacy, for they
link present events with ancient promises.
3. Late Second Temple Jews and a Mission to the Gentiles

Until the last few decades, scholars were widely convinced that Judaism in the Second
Temple period was a missionary religion. Such claims, however, were often highly
speculative, and discussions lacked nuanced treatment of Jews’ views of Gentiles.
Assumptions about dramatic increases in the Jewish population in the late Second Temple
period, for example, are not only unreliable because of a lack of sound demographic data,
but, even if true, would prove little about the reasons for the increase, such as proselytism.
Statements about Gentile interest in Judaism seldom indicate that such interest is the result
of Jewish missionary activity, and nearly always emphasize that Gentiles were attracted to
Jewish monotheism or ethical living, rather than to observance of the detailed
commandments in the Torah. Some scholars say that the many examples of Jewish
literature in Greek, while often intended for Jews (e.g. to present Judaism in respectable
Hellenistic terms for assimilated readers), were also missionary tracts. Embellishments of
biblical narratives, like those by Artapanus; usage of Greek philosophical language, as in
Philo’s writings; the fictional attribution of works praising Judaism by non-Jews, as in the
Letter of Aristeas and the Sibylline Oracles; direct defense of Judaism, as in Josephus’
Contra Apion—all might have been useful for converting Gentiles. Yet there is no evidence
that this was either the purpose of the texts or that they had any such effect, especially in
convincing Gentiles to take on Torah observance. On the contrary, this material can much
more likely be explained as intended for a Jewish audience, both by design and also on
practical grounds (i.e. it would only be understood and also only be read by and accessible
to Jews).
Also, scholars gave little attention to any possible Jewish motivations for missionary
activity. Claims that Jews vigorously sought to convince Gentiles of the truth of Judaism
and to bring them into their synagogues should account for such supposed activity by
explaining why Jews would even bother with something so potentially onerous and possibly
even dangerous. In fact, many Jews held positive views about Gentiles and believed that
upright Gentiles could be saved at the end of days, without circumcision, conversion,
observance of Torah, and so on. They therefore lacked a compelling religious motive for
advocating a change in their present religious affiliations. According to this (probably
dominant) position, “it is hard to see why they should have thought good gentiles needed to
become Jews to win divine approval.” Most Jews simply did not believe this was necessary.
Other Jews had such negative views of the Gentiles, and of Gentile idolatrous and immoral
behavior, that they showed no interest in interacting with them, let alone interest in
converting them to Judaism. They too therefore lack any motive for proselytism.
These alternative perspectives illustrate the types of topics that should be considered in
such a study of missionary motivation, for the lack of interest in proselytism from opposite
ends of the spectrum of views about Gentiles reveals the near-unanimous opinions of late
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Second Temple period Jews. There is, to put it simply, almost no evidence of support for
intentional efforts at missionary outreach. While I of course do not want to deny that some
Gentiles did actually convert to Judaism, claims that Judaism was a missionary religion, or
even that some Jews were missionary-minded, must demonstrate an underlying
intentionality. For without any explicit intentionality, conversions are incidental, and may
say more about an inherent appeal of Judaism than about any missionary zeal.
A skeptical view of Jewish interest in proselytism is one of the most important advances
in our understanding of Judaism in this period, and explains why many scholars, such as
Martin Goodman, Scot McKnight, Paula Fredriksen, and Shaye Cohen, doubt that Jews
sought converts. Scholars therefore increasingly approach the topic of proselytism with a
carefully nuanced idea of what types of behavior might be relevant, and why. Rather than a
broad-brush approach that lumps diverse texts and acts together as evidence for mission, it
is essential to focus on specific behaviors that reflect specific theological claims. These
specific behaviors, to use Goodman’s classification, would not simply be intended to make
Judaism look reasonable or appealing, to make Gentiles act morally, or to convince
Gentiles to accept Jewish religious claims (e.g. about God’s greatness). Rather, they would
be intended to “bring people perceived as outsiders into a particular community” through
some type of conversion process. The end result, at least as a motive, is clear: to increase
the present membership of a group by successfully convincing non-members to join. On
these grounds, “our evidence does not allow us to speak of a pre-Christian Jewish mission
in the sense of intended activity.” Cohen offers the same conclusion: “I would argue that
Judaism never was [a missionary religion].”
The absence of some theological justification for undertaking such activity—like an
altruistic desire to extend salvation to non-Jews otherwise cut off from it—naturally
explains the absence of evidence for it. Actually, many Jews ignored this topic entirely.
They expected that only at the end of days would God (who was of course the God of all
humanity, not just of Israel) decide the fate of the Gentiles.
I have summarized the consensus opinion of scholars of this period about a lack of
interest in proselytism among late Second Temple Jews in order to highlight a stark contrast
to Luke’s views. This contrast is directly relevant to our study of exegesis of Isaiah’s
prophecy. Luke, as noted above, saw preaching to the Gentiles, and the creation of
communities of believing Gentiles (and sometimes Jews), as an expression of God’s will as
found in the words of the prophet. So important is the missionary imperative that it is the
main point Jesus makes in his post-resurrection appearances. Faithfulness to the Bible and
the missionary command at Luke 24:47 is manifest in precisely the type of activities that
earlier and contemporaneous Jews shun.
4. Second Isaiah’s “Light to the Nations”

Before turning to the main texts, it is necessary to introduce briefly the Isaian phrase “light
for/to the nations/peoples” (42:6; 49:6; 51:4). This phrase appears in a section of the book
(chs. 40–55) attributed to a prophet modern scholars call “Second Isaiah,” which was likely
composed in the mid-sixth century B.C.E. This was a time of optimism about return to the
land of Israel following an end to exile in Babylonia. The original referent of the one who
God has called to bring forth this light is uncertain. However, the emphasis is on the future
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creation of a just social order under the rule of Israel’s God (42:1–4; 51:4). This order will
be marked by dramatic changes and reversals. Most prominently, Israel’s present condition
of exile and powerlessness will be brought to an end (49:5). God will uphold the ancient
promises to care for the beloved people (49:7; 51:2). Those scattered far from home will be
gathered together again (49:6), and brought back to a land once devastated by violence but
soon to be a new “Eden” (51:3).
As one would expect in any biblical prophecy, the focus is on God’s covenant with
Israel. Yet the light that goes forth will bring God’s “salvation” not just to Israel but—the
indirect objects of the phrase “light”—to all peoples as well (42:1–6; 49:6; 51:4–8). It is to
them that the light is sent. They will recognize the greatness of God (49:7), and can expect
God’s aid and assistance too (42:7; 49:9–10). There are few details, for the hope is for the
future and awaits fulfillment. It should be noted that there is no missionary command, and
no expectation of present action or outreach on behalf of the people of Israel. Instead, we
have a broad demonstration of God’s concern for all humanity in the three passages.
We find here early stirrings of a characteristically post-exilic interest in God’s
relationship with and rule over the nations. This Isaian phrase is a rich and also usefully
vague text for raising this issue of the fate of the Gentiles vis-à-vis the God of Israel. It is
no surprise, then, that it was cited by later Jews and Christians alike, and it appears in
numerous Second Temple and early Christian texts with very different interpretations. I
want to turn to these next, beginning with selected passages in Luke-Acts that I believe
illustrate Luke’s distinctive treatment of this phrase.
5. Luke-Acts
a. Luke 2:32
While in a very early passage Luke briefly and ambiguously refers to the sending of “light
to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (1:79), the Isaian theme of the
light of future salvation for the Gentiles emerges more fully a chapter later. In an important
scene in Jerusalem (2:25–32), the baby Jesus is brought into the Temple by his parents so
they can offer the requisite animal sacrifice after a birth. He is seen by a pious old man,
Simeon, who speaks “in the spirit” upon the presentation of the boy (2:26–27). In a short
speech while he holds the boy in his arms, he celebrates the salvation that Jesus, here linked
directly with the light, will bring: “for my eyes have seen [God’s] salvation, which you
have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for
glory to your people Israel.” At this early scene in the narrative, in the Jerusalem Temple,
no actual Gentiles are present. Rather, Simeon’s message is forward-looking, characteristic
of the Lukan trend to introduce central themes later developed in Acts.
In this passage, Luke, drawing on Isaiah’s language, sets up a sort of parallelism in the
“salvation” (2:30) Jesus brings to Israel and to the nations: “light” for the nations, “glory”
for Israel. His application of light imagery to the Gentiles alone is consonant with the use of
the term in Isaiah. There as well, light is not applied to the Jews. This careful use of
terminology preserves some of the differences in the original prophecies between the two
groups. Yet in Luke there is no privileging of the promise to Israel, unlike in Isaiah, which
first emphasizes Israel and then turns more briefly to the nations. By contrast, Simeon
speaks of the hope that the coming of Christ be directed equally to all people and be
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relevant to all people. In his statement, the two promises stand alongside each other, with
Luke perhaps even privileging the promise to the Gentiles by its occurrence in the first
position.
Luke does not quote from any of the three biblical passages exactly. Also, he adds the
phrase “revelation to the Gentiles.” This hints at a more concrete content to the light
imagery not present in Isaiah. For example, the biblical prophet refers to God’s “teaching” (
‫)תורה‬, though apart from one very ambiguous reference to “the coastlands [that] wait for
his teaching,” the message is sent to Israel alone (42:4). Isaiah says that the Gentiles, while
recognizing that God is both real and faithful to Israel (49:7), know God mainly through his
salvific deeds on Israel’s behalf.
By contrast, Luke’s addition of the phrase “revelation to the Gentiles” reveals an
interest in a comparatively deeper religious awareness on the part of the Gentiles. He
indicates something beyond a peripheral role for them in what was originally an Israel-
focused futuristic scenario in Isaiah by referring to their exposure to some content
(“revelation”) of the Christian message. Gentiles will not simply benefit from the (side)
effects of the coming of God’s justice and salvation. Rather, they are, Luke says, fellow
witnesses to the kerygmatic revelation, for it has been “prepared in the presence of all
peoples” (κατὰ πρόσωπον πάντων τῶν λαῶν, 2:31). This is significant, for, as
noted, there are no Gentiles present at this scene, though they will soon be eagerly
committing themselves to this revelation and joining churches. Luke foreshadows this
future “presence” or inclusion with a word used elsewhere for a literal presence.
It is even more striking and unexpected that, though Simeon’s announcement begins
with references to Jews and Gentiles, his universality is immediately qualified. Simeon
ominously alludes to future Jewish resistance to Christ and the message being sent to them
as well as to Gentiles. Jesus is, Simeon says, a “sign that will be opposed,” with many Jews
“falling,” presumably by not believing in the claims made about Jesus (2:34). By contrast,
there is no concern about a mixed reception to the salvation in Christ offered to the
Gentiles, or hint of resistance. Only the Jews are mentioned as future opponents, signaling
Luke’s expectation that the Gentiles will be more enthusiastic followers. This is of course a
key theme for Luke, and the dominant trajectory in the narrative of Acts. Revealingly,
Simeon’s hope for the Gentiles’ acceptance is not consistently confirmed by later events in
Acts; Jews but also Gentiles resist Christian preaching. However, Luke does not
foreshadow this challenge. Rather, he presents, at this early stage, an unqualified hope for
the inclusion of the Gentiles when interpreting Isaiah’s prophecy.
b. Acts 1:8
There are hints in Luke’s Gospel about the call of the Gentiles, and Christ gives an explicit
missionary command after his resurrection at the very end of the volume (24:47). However,
only in Acts are there practical steps taken to bring Gentiles into the churches. Clear
support for this comes early, in a statement by Jesus quoting Isa 49:6 (“I will give you as a
light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth”). At Acts 1:8, the
resurrected Christ replies to a question about the fate of Israel at the end of days by offering
a bold endorsement of a Gentile mission in Isaian language: “But you will receive power
when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all
Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” Christ, discouraging eschatological
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speculation, instead sets forth a future, open-ended hope for a universal mission by his
followers, beginning in Israel but expanding to all places and, by extension, all people. In
this scenario, the followers implicitly are given the role of Isaiah’s servant, and likewise
charged with a similar task: bringing forth the “light.”
Luke appropriates Isaiah’s prophecy of a “light to the nations” that brings forth
“salvation” (49:6) for his Christological and missiological interpretation. That is, Luke is
filling in some of the ambiguities of the Isaian prophecy by making Christ the center of the
proclamation (“my witnesses”) and suggesting that his followers are the light in their role as
“witnesses.” It is to Christ that missionaries will give testimony. In comparison to Isaiah,
who is vague regarding the content of the salvation, Luke later repeatedly spells out in
detail the many benefits to those who come to believe in Jesus.
It is important to note the centrifugal pattern described in 1:8, for this fits the narrative
trajectory of Acts, away from the land of Israel and the (disbelieving) Jews and toward the
(believing) Gentiles. Luke does not portray a linear or entirely consistent development, but
the overall trend in the book is clear. Even though Jews will continue to play a prominent
role in the narrative (Paul preaches to them again and again, up to the last scene), the
salvation of the Gentiles is the dominant theological trend. They are not tangential to the
divine plan or an only-occasional focus, as they are in Isaiah. The Gentile conversions are
not sporadic or limited. Luke in Acts first describes the conversions of a few individuals,
but starting at 11:19–26 and increasingly afterward he describes groups of Gentiles being
brought to faith in Christ and joining or founding churches scattered throughout the Eastern
Mediterranean.
c. Acts 13:47
We turn next to Paul’s visit to Pisidian Antioch (13:13–51). This is a section containing a
noteworthy reinterpretation/reapplication of Isaiah’s prophecy at 13:47 that shifts its
meaning from future, unfulfilled promise to present, fulfilled reality. Because of its length,
careful construction, and prominence in the narrative, this section is “of special
importance” to understanding the missionary pattern of Acts, especially the practice of
preaching to the Jews first. These verses, recounting Paul’s two synagogue visits, can be
seen as a sort of sustained introduction to his remarkable career. Luke narrates his activities
and quotes his speeches. In this setting, Paul naturally offers an Israel-centric message. He
reviews past examples of God’s kindness to the chosen people in order to demonstrate that
the messiah Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promises. He then offers an unexpected
rebuke, warning the Jewish listeners against disbelief even before they have had a chance to
respond. However, his sense of foreboding is well-founded, for some Jews reject the
message, and even try to assault him.
At the climactic moment of his second speech, after facing some Jewish opposition,
Paul quotes Isaiah’s prophecy at 49:6: “ ‘It was necessary that the word of God should be
spoken first to you [Jews]. Since you reject it and judge yourselves to be unworthy of
eternal life, we are now turning to the Gentiles. For so the Lord has commanded us, saying
[in Isaiah], “I have set you to be a light for the Gentiles, so that you may bring salvation to
the ends of the earth” ’ ” (13:46–47). Note that Paul offers no biblical warrant for beginning
with the Jews, the first point he makes. Following his review of God’s goodness to Israel,
this presumably was obvious. Rather, Isaiah’s quote furnishes a justification for the less
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obvious aspect of his work, a mission to the Gentiles, the implied referents of those at “the
end of the earth.” Importantly, Gentiles are present in Antioch and even hear his speeches
(13:16, 26), though they are less visible. Unlike the Jews, they respond positively: “When
the Gentiles heard this, they were glad and praised the word of the Lord; and as many as
had been destined for eternal life became believers” (13:48).
This may seem unexpected, for Gentiles are largely tangential to the bulk of this
section. For example, in his first sermon Paul reviews the history of Israel; the few
mentions of the opportunity for all to be saved through belief in Christ are brief and
undeveloped (13:26, 39). Nonetheless, the hint about salvation for “everyone who believes”
(13:39) is key because it demonstrates the relevance of the message about Jesus to both
Jews and Gentiles. This makes it possible for Luke to elevate the Gentiles to a dominant
theological role in this section. God had always intended that they hear the Gospel and their
positive response is immensely significant.
Though Gentiles start out as silent visitors to a Jewish synagogue, the changes are rapid
and consequential. Even before Paul leaves, many Gentiles separate from the hostile Jewish
community and become “believers” (ἐπίστευσαν, 13:48). This is an important term used
elsewhere in Acts for those who are members of Christian churches. In Pisidian Antioch, it
designates an emerging group of the faithful who are endowed with spiritual rewards upon
their initiation. The promise of “eternal life” is something Gentiles can be assured of now,
through membership in the Christian community, for they had been “destined” for it already
(13:48; cf. 13:46). These benefits of salvation are not simply deferred to a later date, or
even the end of days.
Isaiah’s phrase therefore furnishes a powerful link between the ancient prophecy and
the Gentiles’ positive response. For the first time, Luke departs from the originally future-
oriented message found both in Isaiah and even earlier in Luke-Acts, as shown above. In
this scene, the prophecy of a shared message of “salvation” going forth to all people is no
longer a distant hope but a present reality. It even offers guidance for the direction of Paul’s
current mission. This application of the prophecy to his missionary activity among Gentiles
resembles the commission in 1:8. However, it is immediate and, in the able hands of Paul
(now cast as the Isaian servant: “I have set you”), sure to find success in his subsequent
travels.
d. Acts 26:18, 23
Paul, in prison in Caesarea because “the Jews” convinced the Roman authorities to arrest
him, is given a chance to defend himself before king Agrippa (26:2–32). While Luke makes
clear that Paul has done nothing to deserve punishment, the lengthy speech Paul gives is
largely tangential to the charges. Instead, Paul reviews his call by Jesus to preach to the
Gentiles and his subsequent missionary activity. In a speech before this Jewish king it is
perhaps appropriate that he focuses on religious themes. However, the near-exclusive
interest in biblical and Jewish themes of messianism, resurrection, and the salvation of all
peoples reveals Luke’s primary purpose: to justify the Gentile mission as the will of God
and the fulfillment of prophecy, despite Jewish doubt and opposition. The secular, judicial
context of the speech is largely ignored, as Paul instead offers biblical quotations,
kerygmatic statements, and exhortations to each hearer (even Agrippa, who sits in
judgment) to “become a Christian” (26:28).
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Isaiah’s prophecies, as reinterpreted by Luke, again provide vital support to the Gentile
mission, which has emerged as the work’s dominant theme and Paul’s main responsibility
and accomplishment. In his speech, Paul reports to Agrippa about his call years earlier on
the road to Damascus, when Jesus unexpectedly spoke to him and presented him with a
momentous task: “I will rescue you from your people and from the Gentiles—to whom I
am sending you—to open [the Gentiles’] eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light
and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a
place among those who are sanctified by faith in me” (26:17–18). This recalls the statement
in Isa 42:6–7, that the servant is to be “a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are
blind,” while drawing on traditional Jewish ideas about transformation and spiritual
rewards. Luke applies the role to Paul, casting him, once again, as the appointed servant.
He is to be the agent of this transformation, sharing the message and, most importantly,
bringing Gentiles into the community of believers. The transfer language—“from darkness
to light and from the power of Satan to God”—supports the identification of Gentiles (as
former idolaters) as the likely audience. By setting out this ambitious goal, the statement
maps out a missionary strategy. Now no longer a persecutor of Jesus, Paul will reorient his
life to carry out this demand. He personally takes on this responsibility of sharing this
“enlightening” message with the Gentiles in particular.
A few verses later Paul returns to Isaiah’s prophecy, investing it with a kerygmatic
sense reminiscent of similar statements. Boldly, he says, “I stand here, testifying to both
small and great, saying nothing but what the prophets and Moses said would take place:
that the Messiah must suffer, and that, by being the first to rise from the dead, he would
proclaim light both to our people and to the Gentiles” (26:22–23). It is not clear if Luke has
a specific biblical verse in mind, for Paul’s quotation does not reproduce exactly any phrase
from the Septuagint, but generally reflects the idea of a “light to the nations” in Isa 42:6;
49:6; and 51:4. However, the vagueness of Isaiah’s “light” motif is useful, for Luke invests
it with a distinctly christological meaning. He links it to the image of a suffering messiah
whose experience is universally relevant to all people. That is, the content of the “light” is
none other than Jesus himself, in whom all are to have “faith” (26:18). While believers are
also expected to reform their lives (to “do deeds consistent with repentance” [26:20]), the
emphasis is on coming to right belief about Jesus as the resurrected messiah announced
long ago.
Here as well, the practical implications of the citation should not be missed. Alongside
the kerygmatic message in 26:22–23 is Luke’s support for a missionary strategy of
preaching to Jews and Gentiles. This reflects the idea that the salvation promised in Isaiah
is intended in some vague way for members of both groups, albeit primarily for Israel, so
that Paul commits himself to bring to all (“to our people and to the Gentiles”) the message
of Jesus. Jews are not exempt. This diverges from the first citation in this section (26:17),
discussed just above, that also draws on Isaiah, but most probably only to endorse only a
Gentile-alone mission. That is, Jesus, in this earlier statement, wants to elide any mention
of a mission to the Jews. Yet in the latter citation, 26:23, Paul insists that Jews and Gentiles
must both hear the Gospel. This discloses an ambiguity about preaching to the Jews.
However, this inconsistency between the two mission fields is predictable, for, as noted,
Luke is convinced that Jews must hear the Gospel, but also knows that few will be
convinced. The Jews cannot be ignored; neither can their lackluster response be denied.
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This constitutes an “unresolved problem” for Luke, and can be glimpsed here in the two
ways that Isaiah’s phrase is applied.
As in Acts 13, Luke’s allusions to Isaiah’s prophecy reveal his interest in reapplying
what was originally a future hope to a present reality. Hopes for the salvation of the nations
are now linked with events already taking place. In Paul’s recounting of his past vision to
Agrippa, Jesus’ charge naturally pointed toward Paul’s future responsibilities among the
Gentiles. The demand was for Paul to try to convince them about Jesus. Yet in the context
of this speech in Caesarea, as Paul looks back later on his experience on the road to
Damascus, this mission of course already has achieved significant momentum. Through
Paul’s work and that of others, these efforts began and are still ongoing, so that Paul’s
retelling of the epiphany should be seen in the context of his current missionary strategy.
Though Paul is not boastful, it is clear that this commission has come true. Even when Paul
faced violent opposition from some Jews, with God’s support the prophetic word has not
failed.
Though this scene contains no conversions of Gentiles, Luke’s terminology signals the
immediate and practical implications of Isaiah’s prophecy, the inclusion of Gentiles in
Christian churches. The “place” (κλῆρον) promised to those who believe in Jesus (26:18)
is not an abstract notion of inclusion, but more specifically refers to membership in the faith
community. Luke uses the term with a similar meaning elsewhere. It also recalls earlier
usages in biblical and Jewish literature. The “turn” (ἐπιστρέψαι) in the same verse, and
also in 26:20, likewise fits with Luke’s descriptions elsewhere. Though it sometimes is used
for repentance by Jews, as the mission throughout the Empire progresses it refers to
Gentiles’ converting and entering churches. The word still retains a sense of individual,
spiritual transformation—believers “should repent and turn to God” (26:20)—but it should
not be limited to an internal process of change alone. Rather, it suggests an actual influx of
new converts and the formation of new communities of believers as a result of Paul’s
preaching. The assumption by this point of the narrative is that these changes have begun to
occur, and on a larger scale than the scattered conversions early in Acts. In these
remarkable events the reader would see Luke’s claim that Isaiah’s prophecy has been
confirmed.
6. Late Second Temple Jewish Texts

Isaiah’s prophecy appears numerous times in late Second Temple Jewish texts. Just as Jews’
views of the Gentiles (e.g. regarding their morality, their ultimate fate, etc.) vary widely,
interpretations of the phrase “light to the nations” also vary widely. However, there is
agreement on one key issue: it is not cited as support for efforts to convert them to Judaism.
On this there is no diversity in the sources. Martin Goodman summarizes this viewpoint as
unanimous, writing, “I know of no Jewish text that interpreted the passage [Isa 49:6] in this
way,” that is, as an exhortation to seek proselytes. At most, some later Jews with favorable
views of the Gentiles expect that it will be in the future when salvation will come to the
nations. While a complete review of all appearances of the phrase is impossible here, I have
selected a representative sample in order to demonstrate the consistency of this position.
These texts include both translations of Isaiah and quotations or allusions to phrases from
the relevant verses. A comparative approach makes clear the wide gap in missionary
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motivation between the views in these late Second Temple Jewish texts and in Luke-Acts.
a. Septuagint Isaiah
The Septuagint’s translation (better, interpretation) of Isaiah is complex. For our verses it
evinces a favorable attitude toward the Gentiles in the future, without any interest in
converting them. The rendering of the “light to the nations” phrase is straightforward in all
three places, preserving the focus on the Gentiles’ salvation in the future found in the
Hebrew text. Interestingly, in a few key places the Septuagint ratchets up hopes for the
Gentiles by presenting phrases that were vague or Israel-focused in the Hebrew with an
explicit focus on the Gentiles.
For example, the Hebrew of Isa 42:4, usually translated “the coastlands wait for his
teaching/Torah” (‫ )ולתורתו איים ייחילו‬is in Greek rendered “in his [God’s] name
shall the Gentiles trust/hope” (ἔθνη ἐλπιοῦσιν). This not only clears up the murkiness of
the Hebrew original but more directly links the Gentiles to the salvation offered by Israel’s
God. Similarly, in the Hebrew of Isa 49:8 the servant is sent to establish a “covenant to/of
the people” (‫)ברית עם‬, in which “people” likely has a singular meaning, referring to
Israel. In the Greek, however, the covenant is to the “peoples” (ἐθνῶν), using the plural to
refer to the Gentile nations. This formulation leaves no ambiguity about who have been so
designated. Also, the Septuagint of Isa 51:4, a passage that in the Hebrew focused on Israel
alone, is expanded to include the Gentiles as well. The demand to listen to God’s teaching
was originally addressed to Israel in the Hebrew. Both addressees of the first half of the
verse were the same: “Listen to me, my people, and give heed to me, my nation (
‫)ולאומי‬,” which is a type of repetition common in biblical parallelism. In the Septuagint,
the second phrase no longer issues a demand to “my nation” (i.e. Israel) but rather to “the
kings” (οἱ βασιλεῖς). They stand for the Gentile leaders and by extension the nations
generally. Just like Israel, they are asked to listen to God as his salvation goes forth like a
“light.” In these examples, trends present in the Hebrew text foreshadowing God’s
blessings on the nations are emphasized, but there is no redefinition of Israel’s role vis-à-vis
the Gentiles. The eschatological nature of the Gentiles’ ingathering remains unchanged.
b. Tobit 13:11
The Septuagint text Tobit (from the third or second century B.C.E.) draws on prominent
themes in Second Isaiah. In chs. 13–14, the hero Tobit, supposedly living in exile following
the eighth-century B.C.E. deportation of Israelites from the Northern Kingdom (1:2), speaks
of the time when Israel will return and all people will recognize God’s greatness. His two
speeches in these chapters in particular resemble statements of Isaiah, evincing hopefulness
like that found in LXX Isaiah (above) regarding the salvation of the Gentiles. The context of
these chapters is a future, not present, expectation, that all people will cast aside their idols
and praise God’s greatness and majesty (13:9–10).
Then, referring to Isa 49:6, he says, “A bright light will shine to all the ends of the
earth; many nations will come to you [i.e. to God in Jerusalem], from far away” (13:11).
This merges pilgrimage-tradition imagery of the nations coming up to Jerusalem (along
with exiled Jews) with words taken from Isaiah’s prophecy. The Isaian “light,” sent forth by
God, will somehow make known to them God’s greatness and prompt them to want to
worship him at the holy city. There is no role for Israel in this process. We might have
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expected otherwise, for a few verses earlier Tobit emphasized that Israel lives in exile
among the very people who are later to turn to God: “he has scattered you [i.e. Israel]
among them [i.e. the nations]” (13:3). Yet the Gentiles will receive no guidance from the
people of Israel. This vision of the Gentiles’ eschatological participation in Israel’s
salvation through the agency of the mysterious “light” therefore has no direct implications
for Israel in the present or in the future.
c. Testament of Levi 14:4
A passage from the Pseudepigraphal Testament of Levi (probably from the second or first
century B.C.E.) evinces an especially positive view of Gentile salvation in language drawn
from Second Isaiah. However, it generally conforms to Jews’ lack of interest in a mission to
the Gentiles. Levi says to his sons, “you should be the lights of Israel as the sun and the
moon. For what will all the nations do if you become darkened with impiety? You will
bring down a curse on the nation, because you want to destroy the light of the Law which
was granted to you for the enlightenment of every man, teaching commandments which are
opposed to God’s just ordinances” (14:3–4). This text is more specific than the Isaian
prophecy in two ways. First, by calling the sons, and by extension the people of Israel, the
“light” in 14:3, this text makes explicit what is at most implied in Isa 49:6 about the
identity of the light. Levi says Israel is most definitely the “light” and has some type of role
in guiding the Gentiles to enlightenment. Second, the author may envision not just the
Gentiles’ rejection of idolatry, but their observance of the “commandments” of the Torah. If
so, this goes beyond similar references to the Torah in Isaiah, which lack any explicit
connection with the many specific commandments that fill out the content of the Law. This
may go beyond what we saw above, in the previous examples, and also beyond what is
found in most other contemporaneous Jewish texts, namely the expectation that the
Gentiles will share in Israel’s salvation without actually observing the Law. Yet it is
impossible to be precise; in other texts the widespread lack of the expectation that Gentiles
are saved only through conversion and observance of the Torah, and the vagueness of this
passage, caution against reading this text as a demand that Gentiles be saved through some
type of conversion followed by Torah observance.
Furthermore, the text is ambiguous about the timing of the demand. The chapter begins
with Levi’s reference to “the writings of Enoch” about “the end of days” (14:1). This gives
his message an eschatological context. He then moves to his insistence in the quoted verses
that Israel be faithful to the Law, for their own benefit as well as for the benefit of the
nations. This may refer to the present, though scholars generally place this in the future.
However, with regard to proselytism, there seems to be no indication that Jews are actually
to preach to Gentiles, let alone strive to bring them into their community. This passage at
most seems to reflect an abstract conviction: Israel’s behavior has implications for all
humanity, and God’s commandments, if humanity observed them, would benefit everyone.
The high standard set here reflects this conviction and links it with a common hope that not
only Israel but the entire world may one day be saved. Yet there is no encouragement to do
anything to bring this about. Most likely, the author’s expectation is in line with that seen
elsewhere, that the changes will occur at the end of days, and that Israel has no
responsibility for actual missionary outreach. Levi’s warning against disobedience to the
Law is a typical prophetic exhortation, focused on Israel and its faithfulness to the Torah,
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without any practical implications for Jews’ outreach toward Gentiles.
d. Wisdom of Solomon 18:4
Another text that draws on Isaiah in seemingly similar ways is Wis. 18:4 (probably first
century B.C.E.). This verse, in a section (17:2–18:4) retelling the story of Exodus, contrasts
God’s harsh punishment of the Egyptians (in this case, with the plague of darkness) to
God’s kindness to Israel. While their enemies were blinded, Israel was able to see, for God
“provided a pillar of fire as a guide” (18:3). This image of light is then transferred to
another context. The next verse begins with a literal meaning (“light” as necessary for
sight) and then shifts to a symbolic association of light with Torah: “For [Israel’s] enemies
deserved to be deprived of light and imprisoned in darkness, those who had kept your
children imprisoned, through whom the imperishable light of the Law was to be given to
the world” (18:4). It reflects Isaiah’s interest in the Gentiles (Isa 49:6), with the idea that
Israel has in theory a message that is intended for all people (“the world”). They are
assigned the role of servants, and bearers of the “light,” though this does not imply a
mission to the Gentiles. While the scenario may not clearly be eschatological, the verse
offers no guidance for present action. At most, it expresses a vague hope for all humanity
not much different than Isaiah’s.
The most favorable reading to the Gentiles is to see this as reflecting a genuine desire
that they somehow profit from the Law that Israel possesses. They are not expected to take
on observance of the detailed commandments and join the Jewish community. Rather, the
Law’s relevance to the Gentiles is generic, reflecting the author’s confidence in the Jews’
“possession of the light of truth.” Gentiles, once somehow exposed to Israel and their
Torah, might then turn from their idolatrous ways. This is the most common expectation in
late Second Temple Jewish literature, though, as elsewhere, it is likely that the Gentiles
were expected to take the initiative themselves. This is not Israel’s task.
On the other hand, a more pessimistic explanation is possible as well. In a section that is
very critical of the Egyptians (and in a book often critical of Gentiles generally), the author
hints at his sense that such hopes were fanciful and unrealistic. This is not the fault of the
Torah, for it is “imperishable” and “divine” (18:9). Rather, the nations are murderous and
impious. One should not expect that they would respond positively. The phrase “the light of
the Law was to be given (ἤμελλεν … δίδοσθαι) to the world” may suggest a past
intention that is unfulfilled. That is, God wanted all to learn from the Torah, but this will
not come to pass. By sandwiching this “hope” between stark reminders of Egyptian
malfeasance (e.g. imprisoning children, killing infants [18:4–5]), the author may say more
about the greatness of the Law in general than about any possibility that the nations will
learn from it. Though drawing upon Isaiah’s imagery, the author, according to this
interpretation, shares none of his hopefulness. Needless to say, this interpretation offers
even less support than the previous one for a missionary motivation.
e. 1 Enoch 48:4
This verse, from the section of 1 Enoch (second century B.C.E.–first century C.E.) known as
the Similitudes or Parables (chs. 37–71), is found in a chapter replete with references to the
book of Isaiah. The author, focusing here on the coming of the pre-existent, messianic Son
of Man, links this eschatological figure with the servant of Isaiah’s prophecies. For
example, the naming of the Son of Man before creation in 1 En. 48:3 recalls the naming of
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the servant in Isa 49:1. The worship offered to the Son of Man by those who fall down
before him in 48:5 recalls the “princes” who shall “prostrate themselves” in Isa 49:7. The
same is true for Isaiah’s “light” imagery. The Son of Man, the author of 1 Enoch writes in
48:4, will “become a staff for the righteous ones in order that they may lean on him and not
fall. He is the light of the Gentiles and he will become the hope of those who are sick in
their hearts.” While there is some murkiness regarding the identity of the one(s) who
bring(s) forth “light to the nations” in the Hebrew of Isa 42:6/49:6/51:4, here the author of
1 Enoch directly applies Isaiah’s phrase to the expected redeemer. Second Isaiah’s vague
phrase, perhaps originally associated with the people of Israel generally or the prophet
himself, is reapplied to a superhuman agent of God. After a long period of concealment, he
will appear on earth to inaugurate a reversal of present unjust conditions, benefiting both
Jew and Gentile (50:1–5). His activity, the author writes, is foretold in Isaiah’s prophecy.
The author’s primary concern of course is Israel. They are the “righteous” and “elect”
ones who have faced persecution and perhaps martyrdom (47:1, 4; 48:4–9, using traditional
language of chosenness). Their deliverance is eagerly awaited; no longer will they be
mistreated by “sinners” (50:2). Yet the Son of Man’s arrival also bodes well for some of the
Gentiles. Apart from the grievously sinful, they need not fear the divine judgment. That is,
the coming of the Son of Man does not spell doom for all but the members of the author’s
group, or even for all but the Jews. Most Gentiles seem to be included in this vision. Not
only are they the counterparts of the “righteous” who benefit from the arrival of the Son of
Man in 48:4, but the thankful praise offered him at his arrival by “[a]ll those who dwell
upon the earth” in 48:5 must include both Jews and Gentiles.
Importantly for our purposes, this scenario regarding the Son of Man as “light of the
Gentiles” is an eschatological vision, without any implications for missionary conduct.
While this section offers an inclusive view of salvation at the end of days, it does not alter
relations between Jews and Gentiles in the present or future. Isaiah’s phrase is not linked
with any missionary command, and there is no exhortation that all Jews should aspire to
convert the Gentiles. The Son of Man will somehow help righteous Gentiles at the end of
days. However, if they come to know God, they will do so not as Jews but as non-Jews, for
there is nothing about Torah observance or conversion to Judaism. As if to minimize any
actual responsibility for the people of Israel or even the Son of Man for the Gentiles, the
author casts even the Son of Man’s role in largely passive terms. While ambiguity about the
referent of Isaiah’s “light” is dispelled (i.e. it is the Son of Man), ambiguity about his
responsibilities is not (i.e. what does it mean to “become the hope of those who are sick in
their hearts”?). The intense focus on the glorious Son of Man seems to reveal, at the core,
indifference to the Gentiles. By emphasizing their recognition of his greatness and the
benefits they will receive at his arrival, without saying much about what if anything he
accomplishes or is expected to do, the author simply identifies yet one more reason to
revere him. The Gentiles are peripheral at best to this Israel-centric vision.
7. Conclusion
The prominence of eschatological interpretations of Isaiah’s phrase in these late Second
Temple texts fits well with a widespread, well-documented lack of interest in the
conversion of the Gentiles in other Jewish texts. By largely situating Isaiah’s prophecy in
Página 148.
the future, the authors reflect their indifference toward the inclusion of Gentiles in Jewish
communities. Some also maintain vague future hopes for the Gentiles, again without
immediate conversion. On the other hand, Luke has composed a narrative of two periods in
the past, of Jesus and of the early Church, and frequently draws on biblical prophecies to
explain events that have already occurred. Above all, these include the conversion of
Gentile believers to faith in Christ and their incorporation into churches. Isaiah’s phrase is
one of many used in his two-volume work this way. Yet when comparing these sources, we
should not overlook the different genres and chronological periods covered by them. Luke’s
historical-style narrative (of course, one heavily influenced by his theological convictions),
for example, can be easily contrasted to the futuristic vision of 1 En. 37–71, in which the
author interprets many prophecies eschatologically.
However, the different interpretations of Isaiah can be explained by reference to more
than simply different genres and foci. Luke’s decision to apply Isaiah’s phrase to events in
the early church reveals a profoundly different attitude from many Jews’ vague hopes for
the Gentiles. This reflects his experiences and theological views about the Christian
kerygma. By his time, likely late in the first century, the Jesus movement, which began as a
reform movement entirely within Judaism, has undergone major changes. It was
increasingly separate from and self-consciously at odds with non-Christian Judaism. By
then, most churches were largely or exclusively composed of Gentiles. This was a stunning
development, for, as noted above, in the first decades after Jesus the (non-Torah-observant)
Gentile mission prompted both resistance and surprise. Yet the influx of Gentiles continued,
a source of consternation for some and celebration for Luke and others like him. The
reasons for this demographic shift are complex, but by Luke’s day the trajectory was clear.
By interpreting Isaiah in terms of past and present fulfillment, Luke draws on biblical
prophecy to suit the pressing needs of his own community, above all to legitimate its
present composition and likely expansion. He is not the only ancient Jew or Christian to do
this. Many others believed that earlier sacred texts were relevant to—indeed, written for—
them in their present. They solved current conflicts, answered pressing questions, and
above all explained how things got to where they were (and why this reflects God’s will).
The contrasting approaches to Isaiah’s “light to the nations” phrase reveal these starkly
different underlying contexts. There was nothing remotely like the influx of Gentiles in
these Jewish communities to which Isaiah’s prophecy might be applied. Widespread
indifference to Gentile conversion in the present, along with a desire to maintain traditional,
stable boundaries between Gentiles and Torah-observant Jews, obviated the need to turn to
Isaiah, or other possible passages. Luke, who witnessed remarkable, dynamic changes in
the early Christian world, naturally turned to this powerful image from Isaiah to explain
them.
Página 149.

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‘WHAT DOES THE SCRIPTURE SAY?

Studies in the Function of Scripture in Early Judaism and

Bloomsbury T&T Clark

London New York

WC1B 3DP NY 10018

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

STUDIES IN SCRIPTURE IN EARLY JUDAISM AND

“FASTING” AND “FORTY NIGHTS”: THE MATTHEAN

2. The Matthean “Fasting” and “Forty Nights” in Recent Scholarship

3. Fasting and Forty Nights in Exodus/Deuteronomy Contexts

5. Further Matthean Redaction

6. Cumulative Redaction and Conclusion

“LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR AS YOURSELF” (LEVITICUS 19:18B)

1. Introduction: Love as the Central Maxim of Christianity

2. Leviticus 19:18b Within Exegetical and Juridical Discussions

3. Jesus’ Interpretation of Leviticus 19:18b and Mission to Samaritans and

4. Paul’s Use of Leviticus 19:18b via the Jesus Tradition

REST, ESCHATOLOGY AND SABBATH IN MATTHEW 11:28–30: AN INVESTI

1. General Background of the LXX’s Use of Anapausis

2. Specific LXX Background of Jesus’ Offer of Rest (Matthew 11:28)

3. Specific LXX Background of Jesus’ Promise of Finding Rest (Matthew

2. A Brief History of Interpretation: From a Detached Proof-text to a Key

3. Broadening the Scope: Matthew 11–14

1. Seeing (ὀράω,11:4, 5, 7, 8 (×2),12:2 (×2), 16, 18,13:3, 13 (×2), 14

2. Hearing11:2, 4, 5, 15 12:19, 22, 24, 41,13:9, 13 (×2), 14,14:1

3. Judgment11:22, 24 12:18, 20, 36, 41,13:39–43

4. Generation11:16 12:39, 41, 42, 45

5. Identity 11:10 12:23, 24 13:19–23, 55 14:2

6. Wanting11:14 12:7, 38, 50 13:28 14:5

8. 11:8, 11, 12 12:25 (×2), 26,13:11, 19, 24, 31,14:1–2, 9

9. Servant/s 12:18 14:2

4. Socio-cultural Context: The Divinely Appointed Servant as the Ideal King

BLOOD AND SECRETS: THE RE-TELLING OF GENESIS 1–6 IN

1. 1 Enoch and Genesis

2. Susanna and 1 Enoch

3. Matthew, Susanna and 1 Enoch

1. An Enigmatic Text—The Problem

2. The Contribution of Source-Critical Observations

3. The Yield of Traditional Parallels

In the course of tradition, Ezek 37 advanced to a rather graphic scenario of an individual

4. The Tombs of the “Sleeping Hallows” as Key to Understand Matthew

It is generally agreed that this citation conflates three biblical prophecies:

The lament continues:

Messianic Exegesis in Mark 1:2–3

The Lord says to my lord (‫ ;אדני‬κύριος),

Strike the shepherd (‫ ;רעה‬ποιμένα),

The Fulfillment of Exodus 23:20; Malachi 3:1; and Isaiah 40:3

Situating the Gospels in Their Historical Cultural Milieu

Jesus and Jewish Purification: Contagion or Social Oppression?

A DIFFERENT KIND OF VICTORY: 4Q427 7 i–ii AND THE

2. 4Q427 7 i–ii Among the Hodayoth

3. The Victory Song “Genre”

4. The Magnificat and 4Q427 7 i–ii Among the Victory Hymns

BIBLICAL PROPHECY AND THE FATE OF THE NATIONS IN

2. Luke-Acts and a Mission to the Gentiles

3. Late Second Temple Jews and a Mission to the Gentiles

4. Second Isaiah’s “Light to the Nations”

6. Late Second Temple Jewish Texts

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