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The Historicity of the Feeding of the Five Thousand: An Appraisal of the Evidence

3. Are Miracles Possible?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

It is one of the most iconic incidents in Jesus’ life. We are all familiar with the famous story of Jesus miraculously feeding the five thousand from five loaves and two fish, with no fewer than twelve basketfuls of leftovers. The story is recounted by all four gospel writers: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. But just how historical is this story? In this article, I attempt to highlight several lines of evidence which, when taken as a cumulative whole, strongly suggest that these reports are rooted in a real historical event. I attempt to show this by virtue of appeal to undesigned coincidences, reconcilable variations, and other telltale markers of independence and verisimilitude. What I hope to demonstrate is that the feeding of the five thousand is the second-best attested New Testament miracle, after the resurrection of Jesus. For many of the insights that follow, I am indebted to my friend and colleague Dr. Lydia McGrew, both through her writing, and through her direction towards Christian authors from times past (such as Paley, Blunt, and Birks) who identified many of these hallmarks of verisimilitude in the gospel accounts.

Undesigned Coincidences Relating to the Feeding of the Five Thousand

An undesigned coincidence occurs when you have two or more accounts that casually interlock in a way that points to the truth of both. In its most classic form, one account of an event may raise a natural question that is answered incidentally and casually by the other. Much like a puzzle, it fits like a hand into a glove. This is not at all the type of pattern that one would expect to see in the event of some kind of conspiratorial manufacturing of the story. When taken as a cumulative argument — many instances considered collectively — one has a powerful argument for the overall general reliability and integrity of the gospel narratives. I will now offer a handful of examples pertaining to the feeding of the five thousand narratives.

The Role of Philip

In John 6:1-7, we are told:

Some time after this, Jesus crossed to the far shore of the Sea of Galilee (that is, the Sea of Tiberias), and a great crowd of people followed him because they saw the signs he had performed by healing the sick. Then Jesus went up on a mountainside and sat down with his disciples. The Jewish Passover Festival was near. When Jesus looked up and saw a great crowd coming toward him, he said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?” He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “It would take more than half a year’s wages to buy enough bread for each one to have a bite!”

Now, Philip is a fairly minor character in the New Testament. And one might, naturally, be inclined to wonder why Jesus hasn’t turned to someone a little higher in the pecking order (such as Peter or John). Perhaps even Judas Iscariot would have been a more suitable choice for this role in the account since John informs us elsewhere that he was responsible for the money bag (Jn 13:29).

A partial clue is provided in John 1:44: “Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida.” Likewise, John 12:21 refers to “Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee.” What is so significant about Philip being from the town of Bethsaida? We don’t learn this until we read the parallel account in Luke’s gospel (9:10-17). At the opening of the account (verses 10-11), we are told,

“When the apostles returned, they reported to Jesus what they had done. Then he took them with him and they withdrew by themselves to a town called Bethsaida, but the crowds learned about it and followed him. He welcomed them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed healing.”

And so, we are informed by Luke (who does not mention Philip in this context at all) that the event was actually taking place in Bethsaida — the town from which Philip was from! Jesus thus turns to Philip, whom, he believed, would be familiar with the area. This also perhaps illuminates the involvement of Andrew (who was also from Bethsaida — Jn 1:44) in the reply. Andrew says to Jesus in John 6:9, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish, but what are they for so many?” One may conjecture that Andrew, being from Bethsaida where this miracle took place, knew the boy, or perhaps Jesus had directed his question to Philip and Andrew, both of whom were locals.

The reason for Jesus addressing Philip in John 6:5 is never explicitly spelled out in the text. Instead, one has to do the detective work of piecing together the clues drawn from John 6:5; John 12:21 (and 1:44); and Luke 9:10-17. This is precisely the sort of casual connection between accounts that one might expect to see in historical reportage, though it is more surprising given the hypothesis of fictionalization.

The Green Grass, and the Coming and Going Crowds

Curiously, Mark’s narrative describes the people as sitting down in groups on “the green grass” (verse 39). This is significant, not because Mark mentions people sitting on the grass (Matthew 14:19 also records people sitting “down on the grass”, and Luke 9:15 reports that “everyone sat down”, and John 6:10 notes that “There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down.”). It is significant because Mark reports that the grass was “green”. This is particularly intriguing when one considers that, in Israel (particularly in Galilee) the grass is brown!

What makes this even more intriguing is that Mark’s gospel (6:30-42) also states, in verses 30-31 that,

The apostles gathered around Jesus and reported to him all they had done and taught. Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.

Mark casually alludes to there being many people coming and going, indicating the hustle and bustle and general business of the area during this time. But why were there many coming and going? Mark does not tell us. In John’s account, however (6:4), we are told that “The Jewish Passover Festival was near.” This explains why many people were “coming and going.” Moreover, during the season of the Passover (i.e. in the springtime), there is a small window where the grass is indeed green in that area, due to elevated levels of rainfall. When this is coupled with the detail given to us by John that the Passover festival was at hand, this illuminates and makes sense of the casual (but surprising) statements in Mark that the grass was green and that people were coming and going.

Counting the Number of People

A question that arises when one reads the accounts of the feeding of the five thousand is how the evangelists knew the number of people. Matthew’s account emphasizes that this number specifically refers to men: “And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children” (Mt 14:21). Mark 6:44, Luke 9:14, and John 6:10 also indicate that it was five thousand men who were fed (though the phrase “besides women and children” is unique to Matthew). But how was this number estimated? According to Mark 6:39-40, “Then he commanded them all to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups, by hundreds and by fifties.” Likewise, Luke 9:14-15 indicates that “he said to his disciples, ‘Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each.’ And they did so, and had them all sit down.’” Having the people organized into groups would have doubtless made it easier to distribute the food, and it would also provide a means of arriving at an estimate of their number.

How, though, were the evangelists able to determine that there were five thousand men specifically, besides women and children? John’s gospel, which omits mention of the organization of the people into groups, provides an important clue. In John 6:10-11, we are told, “Jesus said, ‘Have the people sit down.’ Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, about five thousand in number. Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted.” Thus, like Mark and Luke, John informs us that Jesus told the disciples to have the people sit down in groups. However, John uniquely tells us that it was the men who in fact sat down. This, then, illuminates, in a casual and incidental way, how the number of men could be reliably estimated.

Denouncing the Unrepentant Cities

In Matthew 11:21, Jesus denounces the unrepentant cities, saying, “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the miracles that were performed in you had been performed in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sackcloth and ashes.” The reader is left wondering what miracles were performed in these cities. We are not told in Matthew’s gospel. It is only in light of Luke’s account of the feeding of the five thousand (chapter 9), in which we are told of the event’s occurrence in Bethsaida, that this statement begins to make sense. Although Matthew 14:13-21 does narrate the feeding of the five thousand, no mention is made of Bethsaida. Furthermore, Matthew, who often arranged his material thematically rather than chronologically, gives his account of the feeding of the five thousand some three chapters subsequent to the pronouncement of woe upon Bethsaida. Only by comparing the account in Luke do we discover that the feeding of the five thousand in fact transpired before the woes were pronounced by Jesus upon Bethsaida.

Strikingly, not only is Luke’s mention of Bethsaida as the location of the feeding found in a different context from the woes; it is found in an apparently unrelated context — that is, the pericope in which it occurs has absolutely nothing to do with the feeding of the five thousand. Jesus simply refers generally to the mighty deeds performed in Chorazin and Bethsaida. There is nothing in the immediate context to suggest that Jesus is making an allusion to the feeding of the five thousand. Indeed, the fact that Matthew contains no information about any miracle performed in Chorazin undermines the idea that the reason Luke mentions Bethsaida as the setting of the feeding of the five thousand miracle is to fill in the missing information in relation to Jesus’ statement in Matthew 11:21.

The Messianic Secret

Throughout the synoptic accounts, Jesus often sternly warns people not to publicly disclose His identity. In scholarly circles, this is known as the “messianic secret.” We also see Jesus frequently seeking to avoid large crowds. Those features of Jesus’ behavior are illuminated by John 6:15, which immediately follows the account of the feeding of the five thousand, in which we read, “Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, Jesus withdrew again to the mountain by himself.” Given the popular Messianic expectation of an individual who would overthrow the Roman occupiers and re-establish a Davidic reign, Jesus naturally feared that public disclosure of His Messianic identity would result in misunderstandings and attempts by the crowds to make Him King by force. Thus, John 6:15 explains the Messianic secret in the Synoptics.

Eating Jesus’ Flesh and Drinking His Blood?

Another coincidence pertains to Jesus’ statements, prompted by the episode of the feeding of the five thousand, in John 6:51-58:

I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh […] Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.

These words of Jesus, in my judgment, are especially likely to be authentic for at least three different reasons. First, particularly given the Jewish context (recall that the fourth gospel, in which these sayings uniquely are found, was evidently authored by a Jew), this is an exceedingly unlikely thing for the author to make up out of whole cloth. In fact, many of Jesus’ followers, in verse 60, said “This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?” Verse 66 further indicates that “After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.” Second, Jesus’ allusion to the loaves that the crowd had eaten (see verse 26), as the basis of his teaching is in keeping with Jesus’ consistent habit across all four gospels (and across diverse episodes) of drawing lessons from his surroundings and from the occasion (this is an instance of what I call “artless similarities”, which I have discussed in more detail in this article). Third, these sayings are supported by an undesigned coincidence. Jesus’ language in this passage (which is found only in John, and not in the Synoptics) is strikingly similar to His institution of the Lord’s supper (which is found in all three of the Synoptics, but not in John). Here are the words of institution, as given by Luke 22:19-20: “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me…This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” Lydia McGrew suggests that[1],

Jesus was speaking of the Lord’s supper in John 6, not in the sense that the crowds were expected to understand this at that time by his teaching, but in the sense that he was alluding cryptically to something that he would make clearer later to those who continued to follow him. This sort of veiled allusion would hardly be uncharacteristic of Jesus’ teaching as we find it elsewhere. For example, his words to Nicodemus about the Holy Spirit in John 3 would not have been clear to Nicodemus at the time but would have become much clearer in the light of Pentecost. The statement, “Destroy this Temple, and in three days I will raise it up” recorded in John 2:19 is glossed by John in hindsight, as referring to the resurrection, but Jesus himself apparently did not explain it at the time.

It is important to remember that the institution of the Lord’s supper is mentioned only in the Synoptics, and Jesus’ strange statements about eating His flesh and drinking His blood is found only in John. McGrew concludes that “he spoke this way in John 6 in anticipation of instituting the Lord’s Supper at the end of his ministry, expecting his followers to put it all together later if they persevered in discipleship (as contrasted with those who fell away in John 6.66-67).”[2]

Other Markers of Verisimilitude

John James Blunt notes the consistent distinction that is maintained between the number and kinds of leftover baskets that were collected in the two events[3]:

[T]here was, no doubt, a marked difference between these two vessels, whatever that difference might be, for κόφινος is invariably used when the miracle of the five thousand is spoken of; and σπυρίς is invariably used when the miracle of the four thousand is spoken of. Moreover, such distinction is clearly suggested to us in Matt. xvi. 9, 10, where our Savior cautions his disciples against the “leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees” and in so doing, alludes to each of these miracles thus: “Do ye not understand, neither remember the five loaves of the five thousand, and how many baskets (κοφίνους) ye took up? Neither the seven loaves of the four thousand, and how many baskets (σπυρίδας) ye took up?” though here, again, the distinction is entirely lose in our translation, both [words] being still rendered “basket” alike.

This distinction between the words used for “basket” (κόφινος vs. σπυρίς) is also maintained in the parallel account of Jesus’ rebuke in Mark 8:19-20.

Blunt concludes[4],

[S]uch uniformity mark[s] very clearly the two miracles to be distinctly impressed on the minds of the Evangelists, as real events; the circumstantial peculiarities of each present to them, even to the shape of the baskets, as though they were themselves actual eyewitnesses; or at least had received their report from those who were so. It is next impossible that such coincidence in both cases, between the fragments and the receptacles, respectively, should have been preserved by chance; or by a teller of a tale at third or fourth hand; and accordingly we see that the coincidence is in fact entirely lost by our translators, who were not witnesses of the miracles; and whose attention did not happen to be drawn to the point.

Interestingly, the same word for basket that is used for the feeding of the four thousand (σπυρίς) is also used of the basket used to lower Saul over the wall in Damascus (Acts 9:25). This suggests that these baskets were quite large, which explains why there were fewer leftover baskets collected for this event (seven compared to the twelve baskets collected after the feeding of the five thousand).

Reconcilable Variations

Another category of evidence bearing on the case for the resurrection is the phenomenon of reconcilable variations, so-named by the nineteenth-century Anglican scholar Thomas Rawson Birks.[5] A reconcilable variation refers to when there exist two accounts of the same event or at least two accounts that appear to cross over the same territory at some point, and at first blush, they seem so divergent that it is almost awkward; but then, on further thought, they turn out to be reconcilable in some natural fashion after all. When two accounts appear at first so divergent that one is not sure they can be reconciled, that is significant evidence for their independence. When they turn out, upon closer inspection or upon learning more information, to be reconcilable without forcing, after all, one has almost certainly independent accounts that dovetail. A few examples pertain to the feeding of the five thousand accounts.

Is Mark Confused About the Location?

According to Luke 9:10, the event of the feeding of the five thousand took place in Bethsaida. However, according to Mark 6:45, following the feeding of the five thousand miracle, Mark tells us,

Immediately he made his disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd.

This presents an apparent discrepancy. If Jesus and the disciples were already in Bethsaida, why does he tell his disciples to get into the boat and go to the other side of the lake, to Bethsaida? At first blush, this certainly seems to be a clear-cut instance of a contradiction between the accounts. The first thing to note is that we have independent confirmation that the event occurred in a deserted area near Bethsaida, based on two of the undesigned coincidences noted above. Thus, there are good historical grounds for believing that the event in fact took place in Bethsaida.

There is yet further confirmation of the location of the miracle as being somewhere “across the top” of the Sea of Galilee from Capernaum. It is Mark himself who says that they didn’t even have leisure to eat before the feeding, because there were “many coming and going” (Mark 6:31), and that they got into the boat to get away from the crowds. That fits well with their being in the region of Capernaum prior to going away. There is still a further undesigned coincidence involved there which connects Mark and John, also discussed above. It was just before the Passover (John 6:4), and there would have been crowds coming through Capernaum, travelling down to Jerusalem. Thus, the picture is well-explained by their going from the Capernaum region (on the top west coat of the Sea of Galilee) across the top of the region around Bethsaida, and then, when they returned “to the other side”, returned to the northwest side. In fact, Mark explicitly says that they landed at Gennesaret when they had crossed over (Mark 6:53)! Thus, this actually, far from contradicting, confirms the idea of which direction they were going. If they were really crossing over “to Bethsaida” as if to land at or near Bethsaida, they couldn’t have landed at Gennesaret! Thus, πρὸς Βηθσαϊδάν, even within Mark itself, cannot be taken to mean that the feeding of the five thousand occurred in a radically different location from the region of Bethsaida named explicitly in Luke and otherwise confirmed by undesigned coincidences. Therefore, there is good reason to believe that the feeding of the five thousand miracle took place in Bethsaida.

This still leaves unanswered the question of what Mark means in 6:45. The Greek text says that the disciples were to enter into the boat and προάγειν εἰς τὸ πέραν πρὸς Βηθσαϊδάν. Lydia McGrew argues that the Greek preposition πρὸς can mean “over against” (or “across from”).[6] However, I am at this point unpersuaded by this translation. While one of the possible meanings of πρὸς is “against” (e.g. Mt 4:6; Mk 12:12; Lk 4:11; 20:19; Acts 6:1; 9:29; 19:38; 23:30; 24:19; 26:14), I have been unable to find any instances, in either the New Testament or the Greek Septuagint, where the preposition unequivocally means geographically “opposite to”, as would be required by McGrew’s interpretation.

Another possibility is that, in going over to the other side (to the Capernaum side) they were going to pass Bethsaida — that is, that the actual location of the feeding was slightly to the east of Bethsaida itself (recall that the event actually took place at a desolate area, in proximity to Bethsaida — Mt 14:13; Mk 6:32; Lk 9:12). Indeed, the stated location of Bethsaida, I would argue, is being used in a regional sense (in the same way that I might say I live in Boston even though technically I live in a suburb of Boston). Hence, when they left in Mark to go to the other side, they could have been going “toward” Bethsaida, which would be a legitimate understanding of the preposition πρὸς.

A yet further option, though incompatible with inerrancy (see my article here for those who are concerned about this), is that Mark’s source, quite plausibly the apostle Peter, misspoke a single word when reporting the event. This is not antecedently implausible. Misspeaking a single word on occasion is something that anyone experienced in public speaking is all too familiar with.

Whatever the actual explanation, this apparent discrepancy points to the literary independence of Mark and Luke.

Mark Goodacre has put forward a theory of “editorial fatigue” in the gospels.[7] Goodacre argues that editorial fatigue is “a phenomenon that will inevitably occur when a writer is heavily dependent on another’s work. In telling the same story as his predecessor, a writer makes changes in the early stages which he is unable to sustain throughout.” [3] Goodacre claims that the best example of this phenomenon pertains to the feeding of the five thousand accounts. He cites Mark 6:35-36 and the parallel in Luke 9:12.

Mark 6:35-36: And when it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now late. Send them away to go into the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
Luke 9:12: Now the day began to wear away, and the twelve came and said to him, “Send the crowd away to go into the surrounding villages and countryside to find lodging and get provisions, for we are here in a desolate place.”

Goodacre comments,

The adjective used by both Mark and Luke is ερημος, lonely, desolate, abandoned. Clearly it is nonsense to say ‘we are here in a desolate place’ when in the Lucan setting they are not. After all, if the crowd were in a city, they would not need to go to the surrounding villages and countryside to find food and lodging. Further, since in Bethsaida food and lodging ought to be close to hand, Luke’s comment that the day was drawing to a close lacks any relevance and, consequently, the feeding lacks the immediate motive that it has in Mark. In short, by relocating the Feeding of the Five Thousand, without being able to sustain the new setting with its fresh implications throughout, Luke has spoilt the story.

This argument, in my opinion, is exceedingly weak. Goodacre has succeeded in creating a problem where there isn’t one. The disciples’ statement concerning the surrounding places where the people could go to purchase food indicates that the “desolate place” was not far from those surrounding villages and countryside. As stated previously, the stated location of Bethsaida is being used in a regional sense. This is the most natural way of reading Luke’s account. Furthermore, Matthew — which most scholars agree was independent of Luke, though utilizing at times common source material — also indicates that they were in a desolate place (Mt 14:13,15). Furthermore, there is also the independent evidence, discussed above, that the location of the feeding of the five thousand as indicated by Luke is correct.

Where did Jesus first see the crowd?

In Mark’s account, the narrative concerning the feeding of the five thousand begins with the disciples returning from a preaching ministry to tell Jesus “all that they had done and taught” (Mk 6:30). Given the business of the place, Jesus told the disciples to “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” (v. 31). However, “many saw them going and recognized them, and they ran there on food from all the towns and got there ahead of them,” (v. 33). That the people were able to run on ahead of Jesus on foot and arrive before him fits well with the size of the Sea of Galilee, which is only seven miles wide at its widest point. The people came and met Jesus as he was getting out of the boat. Mark tells us that “When he went ashore he saw a great crowd” (v. 34).

Compare this with the account in John 6. John doesn’t mention the disciples’ preaching ministry and their coming to report to Jesus what they had done and taught. Nor does John report Jesus’ instruction to “come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” However, John does indicate that Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, which John calls by its other name, the Sea of Tiberius (v. 1). According to John, there was a large crowd following Jesus “because they saw the signs that he was doing on the sick” (v. 2). Jesus went up on a mountain and lifted up his eyes and saw the crowd coming toward Him (v. 5). If one were to only read John’s account, one would get the impression that Jesus had gone up to the mountainside with His disciples, and it was only then that He saw the crowd that had been following Him. Note that all four gospels mention the mountain in this region (Mt 14:23; Mk 6:46; Lk 9:28; Jn 6:3). Mark, speaking of the crowd that had followed Jesus, says that Jesus “had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. And he began to teach them many things” (Mk 6:34). In Matthew’s account, we read that “he had compassion on them and healed their sick” (Mt 14:14). In Luke, it mentions both that Jesus “spoke to them of the kingdom of God” and that he “cured those who had need of healing” (Lk 6:11). Thus, we are to picture Jesus having been with the crowd for some time prior to the feeding event. In the synoptics, we are told that when it was getting late, they discussed where to find food for the crowd of people. John, however, does not mention the earlier part of the day. It seems, then, that the crowds converged on him while He had slipped away with His disciples. John’s emphasis, though, is on the feeding through the miraculous multiplication of loaves and fish. The fact that these accounts, which appear upon first blush to contradict one another, fit together so casually reveals the independence of the accounts.

Did Jesus go up the mountain before or after the disciples left in a boat?

A final apparent discrepancy concerns the question of whether Jesus went up into the mountain to escape the crowds and pray following the feeding of the five thousand before or after the disciples left in a boat. John 6:15-16 implies that it was before the disciples left in a boat, whereas Mark 6:45 says that “he made his disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, toward Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd.” The synoptics, however, do not state that Jesus escorted the disciples down to the boat and then went up the mountain. Rather, the gospels simply report that Jesus instructed them to get into the boat and go over to the other side. The instruction could have been given some distance from the shoreline. Indeed, it plausibly could have taken them some time to winnow their way through the crowd and reach the shoreline. Perhaps they could even hear Jesus dismissing the crowds, or Jesus could have informed them of His intentions.

John’s record of events does not in fact conflict with what we read in Mark, if one reads these events as occurring in a somewhat intertwined manner. It is quite conceivable that John’s mind was following the course of Jesus’ actions, and is picturing, as it got dark, the disciples approaching the shore and getting into the boat. That, however, does not entail that Jesus in fact went up the mountain first. Mark (or his source, plausibly Peter), on the other hand, may be thinking of the urgency of Jesus sending them away. If this is the case, then it is not particularly surprising to find the evangelists describing the events in a slightly different order.

Again, this is precisely what one might expect of independent eyewitness accounts.

Other Marks of Independence

In addition to the foregoing, there are also various other marks of independence. Only John mentions the boy, and that they were barley loaves (Jn 6:9), which fits with the time of year, being near the Passover. Only John mentions that it was Andrew who brought the boy forward (Jn 6:8). Only John mentions the other name of the Sea of Galilee (the Sea of Tiberius), a name that we can confirm from other sources (Jn 6:1). Only John records how far the disciples had rowed when they saw Jesus coming towards him, which is given as an imprecise measurement of twenty-five or thirty stadia, or about three or four miles (Jn 6:19). Matthew and Luke both mention that Jesus healed people (Mt 14:14; Lk 6:11), a detail not supplied by Mark. Only Mark mentions that the disciples landed at Gennesaret (Mk 6:53). This fits with the account in John, which says that they set off for Capernaum (Jn 6:17). One could even view this connection as an undesigned coincidence between Mark and John. Matthew alone mentions that the reason for Jesus leaving with His disciples was that Jesus heard about the death of John the Baptist (Mt 14:13). This is at variance, though compatible, with the statement in Mark 6:31 that it was to get away from the crowds that Jesus instructed the disciples to retreat to a desolate area. The disciples, who witnessed the event, would have been able to draw their own conclusions about what had triggered Jesus’ desire to leave for a desolate place. Finally, only Matthew includes the account of Peter’s request that Jesus ask him to walk toward Him on the water (Mt 14:28-31). This reflects Peter’s impulsive nature, a character trait that is consistent across all four gospels and across diverse episodes (see my article on artless similarities for further discussion of the evidential significance of this).

Conclusion

To conclude, I would argue that the feeding of the five thousand event is the second best attested New Testament miracle after the resurrection. This is, in part, because it is attested in all four gospels and the parallel texts show numerous indicators of independence and verisimilitude, including undesigned coincidences and reconcilable variations. Cumulatively, these indicators strongly suggest that the accounts of the feeding of the five thousand are grounded in a genuine historical event in the ministry of Jesus and contribute to the case for the gospels’ overall reliability.

Footnotes

[1] Lydia McGrew, Hidden in Plain View: Undesigned Coincidences in the Gospels and Acts (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2017), 42.

[2] Ibid., 43.

[3] John James Blunt, Undesigned Coincidences in the Writings Both of the Old and New Testament: An Argument of Their Veracity (London: John Murray, 1863), 264.

[4] Ibid., 265.

[5] Thomas Rawson Birks, Horae Evangelicae, or The Internal Evidence of the Gospel History (London: Seeleys, 1852). See also Lydia McGrew, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2019), 316–321.

[6] Lydia McGrew, Hidden in Plain View: Undesigned Coincidences in the Gospels and Acts (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2017), 22.

[7] Mark Goodacre, “Fatigue in the Synoptics,” New Testament Studies 44 (1998), 45-58.

A Reply to Bart Ehrman’s Defense of Jesus, Interrupted on the MythVision Podcast

Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

Nearly a year ago, I published a series of three articles in which I reviewed sections of Bart Ehrman’s book Jesus, Interrupted: Revealing the Hidden Contradictions in the Bible (And Why We Don’t Know About Them). If you have not read those articles already, you can find them at the links below:

Why You Should Not Be Intimidated by Bart Ehrman: A Review of Jesus, Interrupted (Part 1)

More Misrepresentations and Distortions by Bart Ehrman: A Review of Jesus, Interrupted (Part 2)

Finding Contradictions Where There Is None: A Review of Jesus, Interrupted (Part 3)

Bart Ehrman was recently interviewed on the atheist MythVision podcast about alleged contradictions in the New Testament. During the course of the discussion, the host Derek Lambert asked Ehrman to comment on my critiques of Jesus, Interrupted (see this time stamp). This is my response to Ehrman’s remarks.

Before I begin my response to Ehrman’s interaction with my comments, I wish to clarify my methodology, since Ehrman misrepresented my views a number of times during the podcast. Indeed, despite confessing to having no prior knowledge of my work, Ehrman apparently felt at liberty to impute to me certain views that I do not in fact hold. In particular, Ehrman insinuated on multiple occasions that I am an inerrantist and a fundamentalist, whereas in reality I am neither an inerrantist, nor a fundamentalist (at least in the sense in which the word is used in popular parlance). I do not believe that it is proper practice to exclude a priori the possibility that the authors of the gospels have made a mistake or that there exists an actual discrepancy between the accounts (see, for instance, this article for a small handful of examples, albeit non-exhaustive, where I think the best explanation is that a gospel author has made a good faith error). Thus, it is not that I think there can be no errors between the gospel accounts. Rather, it is that I do not believe that the vast majority of the examples Ehrman adduces in Jesus, Interrupted are best explained as an actual contradiction, though I remain open to persuasion in principle. With that clarified, I now turn to those examples touched on in Ehrman’s recent interview on the MythVision podcast.

Matthew’s Dual Donkeys

In Jesus, Interrupted, Bart Ehrman makes the popular claim that Matthew has Jesus riding into Jerusalem seated upon two animals. He states on page 50,

In Matthew, Jesus’ disciples procure two animals for him, a donkey and a colt; they spread their garments over the two of them, and Jesus rode into town straddling them both (Matthew 21:7). It’s an odd image, but Matthew made Jesus fulfil the prophecy of Scripture quite literally.

I pointed out in my previous article that this is not the only way to interpret Matthew’s words, and there is in fact a much more charitable interpretation. Here is the text from Matthew 21:7:

They brought the donkey and the colt and put on them their cloaks, and he sat on them.

What is the antecedent of “them”? The most plausible antecedent is the cloaks. Matthew is indicating that Jesus sat on the cloaks, not that he sat on both the donkey and the colt.

Bart Ehrman responds by pointing out that the cloaks, according to Matthew, are placed on both animals — that is, both the donkey and the colt. Thus, Ehrman argues, we should understand Jesus to be seated on all of the garments, which are spread across the two animals. However, this is a very uncharitable reading of Matthew. Are we really to think that Matthew envisioned Jesus riding on two animals of different heights like some rodeo showman? If that is really what Matthew meant, surely he would have made himself more explicit, since I doubt that it is the interpretation that Matthew’s original readers would have taken from this verse. It did not even cross my mind until I started reading critical literature on the gospels, despite having read Matthew for years. While the cloaks were placed on the two animals and Jesus is said to have sat on the cloaks, it does not follow that Jesus sat on all of the cloaks. Perhaps there were multiple cloaks on one animal and one cloak on the other.

Furthermore, Ehrman’s interpretation depends on the premise that Matthew misunderstood the Hebrew parallelism, erroneously concluding that Zechariah envisioned two animals instead of just one (Zech 9:9). However, Matthew appears to have been quite conversant in Hebrew. For example, consider this text from Matthew 8:16-17:

16 That evening they brought to him many who were oppressed by demons, and he cast out the spirits with a word and healed all who were sick. 17 This was to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah: “He took our illnesses and bore our diseases.”

Verse 17 quotes from Isaiah 53:4. It is of note that Matthew does not here quote from the Septuagint, which reads, “He himself bore our sins and was pained because of them.” Matthew’s quotation does not even match the Aramaic Targum, which reads, “Then for our sins he will pray and our iniquities will be forgiven because of him.” Instead, Matthew translates the Hebrew quite literally, highlighting how it is fulfilled in Jesus performing miracles of healing. Matthew’s acquaintance with Hebrew thus make it quite unlikely that he would so grossly misunderstand the parallelism in Zechariah.

In my previous article, I had also pointed out that, since the colt never had been ridden, or even sat upon (as stated by Mark and Luke), its dependence upon its mother is very understandable (as implied by Matthew). The host of the podcast, Derek Lambert, represented this remark as asserting that the colt required some kind of “moral support” from its mother (though this phrase was not used by me). Ehrman ridiculed this idea as though it were something ludicrous. But this has in fact been suggested by many scholars who have written on this text. For example, Richard Thomas France, in his commentary on Matthew, writes[1],

Garments serve as improvised saddle-cloths, placed on both animals, but there is no need to understand thereon (literally ‘on top of them’, where ‘them’ could refer as well to the garments as to the donkeys) as meaning that Jesus rode on both animals in turn. The mother was brought to help to control the colt as Jesus rode on it, and both animals were therefore decked appropriately for the festive occasion.

Craig Keener likewise states that “Colts that had not yet been ridden sometimes accompanied their mothers.”[2]

When was the Temple Curtain Torn?

On page 51-52 of Jesus, Interrupted, Ehrman discusses the ripping of the temple curtain, which happened as Jesus died. Ehrman writes,

According to Mark’s Gospel, after Jesus breathes his last, the curtain of the Temple is torn in half (15:38)…Luke’s Gospel also indicates that the curtain in the Temple was ripped in half. Oddly enough, it does not rip after Jesus dies but is explicitly said to rip while Jesus is still alive and hanging on the cross (23:45-46).

In my previous review of Ehrman’s arguments, I had pointed out that the Greek conjunction και is temporally non-specific. Although often translated “then” in our English Bibles, a more precise translation would be “and.” It does not necessarily imply that one event happened subsequent to the other.

In response, Ehrman challenged me to produce three examples in Luke’s passion narrative where Luke narrates a sequence of events and uses και but the second event takes place prior to the first. It appears though that Ehrman has misunderstood my argument. I am not saying that Luke intends his readers to understand that the ripping of the temple veil took place after Jesus’ last breath (or that Mark intends his readers to understand that it took place before Jesus’ last breath). Rather, as I noted in my review, the text in both Mark and Luke is consistent with Jesus’ death taking place simultaneously with the ripping of the temple curtain. Could Mark and Luke have been more explicit if that is what they meant? Yes, they could. However, it is quite plausible that Mark and Luke simply did not know the precise sequence of events, knowing only that Jesus had died and that the temple curtain had been observed to have been torn in two, and so they left the precise sequence of events ambiguous.

Jesus’ Miracles in John

The next example Ehrman addresses is my interaction with this alleged discrepancy internal to John’s gospel, which Ehrman discusses on page 8 of Jesus, Interrupted:

Not only are there discrepancies among different books of the Bible, but there are also inconsistencies within some of the books, a problem that historical critics have long ascribed to the fact that Gospel writers used different sources for their accounts, and sometimes these sources, when spliced together, stood at odds with one another. It’s amazing how internal problems like these, if you’re not alerted to them, are so easily passed by when you read the Gospels, but how when someone points them out they seem so obvious. Students often ask me, “Why didn’t I see this before?” For example, in John’s Gospel, Jesus performs his first miracle in chapter 2, when he turns the water into wine (a favorite miracle story on college campuses), and we’re told that “this was the first sign that Jesus did” (John 2:11). Later in that chapter we’re told that Jesus did “many signs” in Jerusalem (John 2:23). And then, in chapter 4, he heals the son of a centurion, and the author says, “This was the second sign that Jesus did” (John 4:54). Huh? One sign, many signs, and then the second sign?

In my previous review of this argument, I pointed out that this objection quickly dissolves upon a closer inspection of the context of these verses. Here are the full verses with the relevant portions highlighted in bold font:

John 2:11– “This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee.”
John 2:23– “Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover Feast, many believed in his name when they saw the signs that he was doing.”
John 4:54– “This was now the second sign that Jesus did when he had come from Judea to Galilee.”

As can be seen from the above, the first and second signs relate to Jesus’ miracles in Galilee. The many signs between the first and second Galilean signs are performed in Jerusalem.

Ehrman responds by pointing out that whether John contradicts himself depends on how one translates John 4:54. Ehrman proposes that we translate John 4:54 as saying “This is the second sign Jesus did. He did this sign after He came from Cana to Galilee.” Is Ehrman’s proposal a possible interpretation? Yes, it is. But why opt for one possible interpretation over another when the former puts an author into conflict with himself? This is not a charitable way to read literature.

The word ἐλθὼν in John 4:54 is an aorist participle, and I would probably be inclined to translate this verse something along the lines of “Having come from Judea to Galilee, this is the second sign that Jesus did.” However, this translation is quite consistent with my interpretation, namely, that this is the second sign that Jesus performed during his ministry to Galilee. Again, if we have an ambiguous text, the charitable reading is that which comports with what the same author has said elsewhere, not that which puts the author into conflict with his own explicit statements elsewhere.

How Many Women Went to the Tomb?

The next example addressed by Ehrman concerns the identity of the women who visited the tomb on Easter morning. Here is the original quote (p. 48):

Who actually went to the tomb? Was it Mary alone (John 20:1)? Mary and another Mary (Matthew 28:1)? Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome (Mark 16:1)? Or women who had accompanied Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem – possibly Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and “other women” (Luke 24:1; see 23:55)?

According to Bart Ehrman, John 20:1 indicates that it was Mary alone who went to the tomb. However, as I pointed out in my earlier article, in verse 2, we read,

So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know (οὐκ οἴδαμεν) where they have laid him.”

The word οἴδαμεν is the first person plural form of οιδα, meaning “to know,” and the word οὐ / οὐκ is an adverb that negates the verb, hence “we do not know.” Thus, Mary’s use of the plural in this verse implies that there were in fact other women who had been present with Mary at the tomb.

Ehrman responds to this observation by noting that my solution does not in fact reconcile the texts, since Matthew, Mark, and Luke do not all say the same thing either. However, Luke indicates explicitly that he has not given us an exhaustive list of the women who were present at the tomb on Easter morning. Luke 24:10 indicates,

Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles.

Given that Luke indicates explicitly that his list is not exhaustive, it is very difficult to see how Ehrman can allege a contradiction in regards to which women were present at the tomb.

Ehrman asks why John does not tell the reader who the other women were? However, it is not at all clear to me why it would have been necessary for John to do so. John spotlights Mary Magdalene because she is the one who ran to inform Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved (very probably the apostle John) about the fact that the body of Jesus was missing. If the fourth gospel is indeed written by John the son of Zebedee (as I maintain), then it would be natural for him to spotlight Mary Magdalene in this role since he was one of the two disciples that Mary Magdalene spoke to following her discovery of the empty tomb.

Ehrman further asks that if one only read through the end of verse 1 of John 20, what would one think had happened so far? Obviously, one would surmise that Mary Magdalene had gone to the tomb. Ehrman’s point here is unclear, however, since John does not stop at verse 1 but includes verse 2 as well. Even if John had not included the subtle allusion to other women in verse 2, it is difficult to see how John contradicts the other gospels since nothing prevents John from spotlighting Mary Magdalene while omitting to mention the other women with her, in particular in view of her role in reporting to Peter and John what she had seen.

Ehrman also argues that an alternative interpretation of the saying “we do not know where they have laid him” is that she had left the tomb and conferred with other people, who likewise did not know where Jesus’ body had been taken. Ehrman objects, “If you want to play that game, you could play it either direction. So, how do we know what one is right?” But this is not how history ought to be done. The reality is that we have not just one biography of Jesus’ life but four biographies, all of which may be shown to be written by individuals who are close up to the facts, well informed, and habitually reliable (see my other articles pertaining to this topic for a detailed discussion of the evidence for this). That being the case, it is legitimate scholarly practice to allow those sources to illuminate and clarify one another, since they are written from multiple perspectives and, although there is evidently a significant level of literary dependence between them (especially the synoptic gospels), there is also information that the authors appear to have independent access to. In the case of interpreting John 20:2, the hypothesis that the others implied in Mary’s statement are the other women at the tomb has a higher prior probability than Ehrman’s proposed interpretation, since we have independent evidence for that scenario, whereas we do not have independent evidence supporting Ehrman’s proposal. Therefore, the interpretation that I offered ought to be the one preferred.

It is also noteworthy that Matthew and Mark appear to be independent of Luke when it comes to the women’s discovery of the empty tomb, as Lydia McGrew has observed.[3] Luke indicates in Luke 8:1-3 that some women followed Jesus from Galilee, including Joanna, the wife of Chuza, Herod’s household manager. This detail is confirmed by an undesigned coincidence with Matthew 14:1, since it illuminates how the author of Matthew’s gospel might know what Herod had said to his servants, presumably in the privacy of his palace. The names given in Luke’s list are Mary, Joanna, and Susanna, as well as “many others,” (Lk 8:2-3). Mark, describing the women who were “looking on from a distance” at the crucifixion, lists “Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome,” (Mk 14:40). These names overlap only partially with those given in Luke 8. There is no mention in Mark of Joanna or Susanna, and Luke does not mention Mary the mother of James or Salome. It does not appear that Luke added the passage in chapter 8 in order to “put” the women in place earlier in Jesus’ ministry and thus fit his narrative together with Matthew and Mark concerning the women at the cross because the names are only partially the same. Luke would have presumably included Mary the mother of James, and Salome, and probably left out Susanna if he had fictionalized the verses in chapter 8 on the basis of Mark’s mention of the women at the cross. Luke himself mentions the women who came from Galilee at the cross and burial (23:49, 55) but does not even name any of them there. Both accounts, therefore, confirm apparently independently that there was a group of women who had begun following Jesus in Galilee and who continued to do so and who helped Jesus in concrete ways (“ministering” or “providing”).

In Luke 24:6-10, the angels tell the women at the empty tomb, “Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee (v. 6).” This makes it clear that these women really were personally with Jesus in Galilee and heard what He said there. When Luke names various women who brought the disciples news of the empty tomb and the message of the angel (24:10), he names Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Joanna (and says there were other women as well). Once again, he does not seem to be trying to reproduce his own list from chapter 8, for Mary the mother of James was not in that list, and Susanna isn’t mentioned in 24:10. Nor is he reproducing Mark’s list of women at the cross nor Mark’s list of women who came to the tomb (Mk 16:1), since Salome isn’t included in Luke’s list, and Joanna (who is unique to Luke) is not included in Mark’s list. Luke seems to be listing women whom he really knows were present for the events on Easter morning. Evidently, he is not sure about Susanna’s presence or just does not bother to mention her, and he knows that Mary the mother of James was there on Easter morning even though she is not listed in his chapter 8.

Thus, distant parts of Luke’s own narrative fit together in an apparently casual and non-deliberate way — Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and various other women were with Jesus in Galilee and heard there Jesus’ own prediction concerning His crucifixion and resurrection. They therefore subsequently went with him to Jerusalem and were present for the events of the cross, burial, and empty tomb.

Where was Jesus the Day After His Baptism?

On pages 40 and 41 of Jesus, Interrupted, Bart Ehrman, asks where was Jesus the day after he was baptized? He writes,

In Matthew, Mark, and Luke – the so-called Synoptic Gospels – Jesus, after his baptism, goes off into the wilderness where he will be tempted by the Devil. Mark especially is quite clear about the matter, for he states, after telling of the baptism, that Jesus left “immediately” for the wilderness. What about John? In John there is no account of Jesus being tempted by the Devil in the wilderness. The day after John the Baptist has borne witness to the Spirit descending on Jesus as a dove at baptism (John 1:29-34), he sees Jesus again and declares him to be the Lamb of God (John is explicit, stating that this occurred “the next day”). Jesus then starts gathering his disciples around him (1:35-52) and launches into his public ministry by performing his miracle of turning water into wine. So where was Jesus the next day? It depends on which Gospel you read.

As I pointed out previously, John does not narrate the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the Jordan. Rather, John merely says,

And John bore witness, “I saw the Spirit descend from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but he who sent me to baptize with water said to me, “He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain, this is he who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.” And I have seen and have borne witness that this is the Son of God.

This, then, is not the baptism narrative itself but rather John giving testimony to what had happened on an earlier occasion.

In response to my comments, Ehrman points out that you have to start with John 1:29 where the passage begins. It begins with the phrase “on the next day.” Ehrman notes that the next day is in relationship to the day when John the Baptist was speaking (v. 23). It must therefore be taken to be narrating a sequence of events. There is no disagreement there. However, Ehrman appears to have once again misunderstood the argument. I am not contesting that the “next day” of verse 29 stands in relationship to the day when John the Baptist was speaking. Rather, my point is that it is not at all necessary to take verse 23 as pertaining to the event of Jesus’ baptism itself. Rather, John is alluding to what had taken place on a previous occasion. Thus, there is no need to posit a discrepancy in this text.

Does Acts Contradict Paul Regarding His Visit to Jerusalem?

The next example Ehrman addresses is an alleged discrepancy between Acts and the Pauline corpus. The apostle Paul writes, in Galatians 1:16-20:

I did not immediately consult with anyone; 17 nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were apostles before me, but I went away into Arabia, and returned again to Damascus. 18 Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and remained with him fifteen days. 19 But I saw none of the other apostles except James the Lord’s brother. 20 (In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie!)

Ehrman writes in Jesus, Interrupted (p. 55),

This emphatic statement that Paul is not lying should give us pause. He is completely clear. He did not consult with others after his conversion, did not see any of the apostles for three years, and even then he did not see any except Cephas (Peter) and Jesus’ brother James. This makes the account found in the book of Acts very interesting indeed. For according to Acts 9, immediately after Paul converted he spent some time in Damascus “with the disciples”, and when he left the city, he headed directly to Jerusalem, where he met with he apostles of Jesus (Acts 9:19-30). On all counts Acts seems to be at odds with Paul. Did he spend time with other Christians immediately (Acts) or not (Paul)? Did he go straight to Jerusalem (Acts) or not (Paul)? Did he meet with the group of apostles (Acts) or just with Peter and James (Paul)?

Here is the key text from Acts 9:23-25:

When many days had passed, the Jews plotted to kill him, but their plot became known to Saul. They were watching the gates day and night in order to kill him, but his disciples took him by night and let him down through an opening in the wall, lowering him in a basket.

How long a period of time is denoted by “…many days…” (literally, “sufficient days” — ἡμέραι ἱκαναί)? I noted in my previous article that in 1 Kings 2:38-39, the expression “many days” in Hebrew is immediately glossed as three years:

38 And Shimei said to the king, “What you say is good; as my lord the king has said, so will your servant do.” So Shimei lived in Jerusalem many days. 39 But it happened at the end of three years that two of Shimei’s servants ran away to Achish, son of Maacah, king of Gath. And when it was told Shimei, “Behold, your servants are in Gath,”

I also noted that, although Luke is silent regarding Paul’s trip to Arabia, this trip may be placed within the “many days” of Acts 9:23. Paul also informs us in Galatians 1:17 that he “returned again to Damascus” — thus, it is not surprising that his subsequent trip to Jerusalem is from Damascus.

Ehrman mistakenly took my argument as having to do with the wording in the Septuagint Greek translation of the Hebrew Bible (despite the fact that my article had explicitly referred to the wording of the Hebrew text). Ehrman thus objected that the Septuagint is a translation done centuries after the Hebrew text was written, and not written by the author of 1 Kings. Ehrman compared this to translating a verse from the Greek New Testament and then using the translation to prove what the author meant. In fact, the Septuagint text says τρία ἔτη (“three years”), not ἡμέραι ἱκαναί (“many days”), which is what the Hebrew text says (יָמִ֥ים רַבִּֽים). My view is that the expression “many days” was likely an idiomatic expression, meaning a significant period of time of unspecified duration.

The host Derek Lambert noted that Luke uses this same expression when describing Paul’s voyage in Acts 27:7, where he cannot mean a period of three years:

We sailed slowly for a number of days and arrived with difficulty off Cnidus, and as the wind did not allow us to go farther, we sailed under the lee of Crete off Salmone.

However, it is not my position that the expression ἡμέραι ἱκαναί means a period of three years. Rather, the phrase denotes a significant period of time of unspecified duration. It is also an admissible reading of Paul that his sojourn in Arabia was not for three full years but for one complete year and part of two others, and it seems quite difficult to argue strongly that Luke’s use of the expression “many days” cannot denote a period that long.

Could Luke have made himself more explicit? Absolutely, he could. But it is possible that Luke simply did not know precisely how long transpired between Paul arriving in Damascus and his escape from the Jews who plotted to kill him, and so he deliberately chose to utilize a vague expression. Luke may also not have even been aware of Paul’s journey to Arabia, or he may not have considered it of sufficient relevance to include.

Ehrman claims that if three years transpired during those “many days” in Acts 9:23, the chronology of Acts does not work anymore. I would be very interested in hearing Ehrman’s argument for this since I cannot identify any chronological issues that arise on this interpretation.

Ehrman also claims that my approach misses the point of Acts (which says that Paul went to Jerusalem right away to meet with the apostles) and also misses the point of Galatians (which says that Paul did not immediately go to Jerusalem to meet those who were apostles before him). I agree with Ehrman about Paul’s intent in his epistle to the Galatians. I am not convinced by Ehrman’s interpretation of Luke’s intent in Acts, for the reasons stated above.

Does Acts Contradict Paul on the Number of Jerusalem Visits?

According to Jesus, Interrupted, Paul’s own words in Galatians contradicts the book of Acts in regards to the number of visits Paul made to Jerusalem. Ehrman writes on page 57,

According to Paul’s account, [the Jerusalem council] was only the second time he had been to Jerusalem (Galatians 1:18; 2:1). According to Acts, it was his third, prolonged trip there (Acts 9, 11, 15). Once again, it appears that the author of Acts has confused some of Paul’s itinerary – possibly intentionally, for his own purposes.

As I noted in my previous article, Galatians does not say that at all. Paul writes in Galatians 1:18-19,

18 Then after three years I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and remained with him fifteen days. 19 But I saw none of the other apostles except James the Lord’s brother.

That would be Paul’s first trip to Jerusalem following his conversion. In Galatians 2:1, Paul writes,

Then after fourteen years I went up again to Jerusalem with Barnabas, taking Titus along with me.

Where does the text say that this was only Paul’s second visit to Jerusalem? In fact, we learn from Acts 11 that between those two journeys Paul had gone to Jerusalem to bring aid to the saints affected by a famine. There would have been no purpose in Galatians for Paul to have mentioned this trip, as it did not relate to conferring with the apostles about the gospel he was preaching.

Ehrman responds by asserting that, in context, Paul is trying to convey that he did not spend much time in Jerusalem and that he got his gospel from Jesus himself, not the other apostles. Ehrman believes it to be inconceivable that Paul would have gone to Jerusalem and not looked up the apostles. Paul does note in verse 20, referring to the fact that he saw none of the other apostles, except the Lord’s brother James, “In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie!” The purpose of Paul’s emphatic statement that he is not lying is probably to underscore the fact that his gospel has not been received second-hand, nor is it subordinate to that of the Jerusalem apostles. The reality, however, is that we simply do not know what interaction, if any, Paul may have had with the Jerusalem apostles in Jerusalem in Acts 11, since Luke does not inform us. To make historical judgments on the basis of what one asserts Paul would have done is to do a priori history. Paul’s visit to Jerusalem seems to have been primarily for the purpose of delivering financial aid to the brothers in Jerusalem, in the wake of the famine that took place during the time of Claudius. For whatever reason, Paul apparently did not think that visit to be worth mentioning in his letter to the Galatians. However, Galatians does not contradict Paul’s letter on this score, and it seems unlikely, given Luke’s track record as a meticulous historian, that he would invent Paul’s journey to Jerusalem to deliver relief to the believers there.

Ehrman also asserts that Paul’s collection was at the end of his life (c.f. Romans 15:25-27), not right at the beginning of his ministry. However, I would argue that there are in fact two instances when Paul delivers financial aid to the saints in Jerusalem. In fact, Acts agrees quite well with the order of travel that we would deduce from the Pauline epistles, on his way to deliver the funds to Jerusalem — even though Acts does not explicitly mention fund-raising as the purpose of Paul’s travels. Indeed, in Acts 19:21, we read, “After all this had happened, Paul decided to go to Jerusalem, passing through Macedonia and Achaia. ‘After I have been there,’ he said, ‘I must visit Rome also.’” Paul’s intention to visit Rome is also attested to by Paul’s own words in Romans 15:22-28. Furthermore, according to Acts 20:1, Paul left Ephusus, following the riot, and travelled through Macedonia (which coincides with Paul’s traveling through Troas, alluded to in 2 Corinthians 2:12). Acts also indicates that Paul eventually came to Greece, where he resided for three months (Acts 20:3a), and was intending to leave for Syria (Acts 20:3b).

There are independent grounds for thinking that Paul wrote 1 Corinthians towards the end of his Ephesian stay (around Acts 19:22). When Paul wrote 1 Corinthians, he was urging the Corinthians to be prepared with their collection (1 Cor 16:1-4). It may also be established that 2 Corinthians was written while Paul was in Macedonia (around Acts 20:1-2). Paul again mentions the collection, which he just picked up from Macedonia, in 2 Corinthians 9:1-5. The epistle to Romans was probably written towards the end of the three months that Paul resided in Greece (Acts 20:3). All of those conclusions about when those letters were written are made on the basis of clues that relate to the collection that Paul was making for the saints in Jerusalem, which is not mentioned by Acts. Acts 20:1-3 also indicates that Paul had to return to Jerusalem overland, following a plot that was made against him (see Acts 20-21 for the details of Paul’s route). Paul eventually arrived in Jerusalem and had a meeting with the Jerusalem elders (Acts 21:17ff). Paul subsequently was taken into Roman custody and imprisoned (Acts 21:27ff). When making his defense before the governor Felix, Paul makes a very indirect reference to the Jerusalem collection: “Now after several years, I came to bring alms to my nation and to present offerings,” (Acts 24:17). The undesignedness of the allusions to this collection and the itinerary in Acts in fact serves to confirm the account in Acts. William Paley (1743-1805) summarizes the case[4]:

Here therefore, at length, but fetched from three different writings, we have obtained the several circumstances we inquired after, and which the Epistle to the Romans brings together, viz. a contribution in Achaia for the Christians of Jerusalem; a contribution in Macedonia for the same; and an approaching journey of St. Paul to Jerusalem. We have these circumstances—each by some hint in the passage in which it is mentioned, or by the date of the writing in which the passage occurs—fixed to a particular time; and we have that time turning out upon examination, to be in all the same: namely, towards the close of St. Paul’s second visit to the peninsula of Greece. This is an instance of conformity beyond the possibility, I will venture to say, of random writing to produce; I also assert, that it is in the highest degree improbable that it should have been the effect of contrivance and design.

It seems, then, that there were in fact two occasions in which Paul brought a monetary collection to the Jerusalem saints. One of those was a collection received from the disciples in Antioch following the famine during the reign of Claudius and delivered by the hand of Barnabas and Saul (Acts 11:29-30). The other was received from the churches in Macedonia and Achaia.

The Original Reading of Luke 3:22

Another example Ehrman addresses is my remarks concerning Ehrman’s assertion on pages 39-40 of Jesus, Interrupted that what the voice at Jesus’ baptism said: “depends on which account you read.” Though this was in fact the first example addressed by Ehrman in the podcast, I have saved my response to this one till last, since this one is slightly more technical than the others. In Jesus, Interrupted, Ehrman writes,

In Matthew it says, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.” The voice appears to be speaking to the people around Jesus, or possibly to John the Baptist, informing them who Jesus is. In Mark, however, the voice says, ‘You are my son, in whom I am well pleased.’ In this case the voice appears to be speaking directly to Jesus, telling him, or confirming to him, who he really is. In Luke, we have something different (this is a bit complicated, because different manuscripts of Luke’s Gospel give the voice different words. I am taking here the original wording of the verse as found in some older manuscripts of the Bible, even though it is not found in most English translations). Here the voice says, “You are my son, today I have begotten you” (3:22), quoting the words of Psalm 2:7).

In my previous article, I noted that the reading “You are my son, today I have begotten you” in Luke, quoting Psalm 2:7, is only found in a single Greek manuscript (although it is also found in several Latin manuscripts and quotations by church fathers). Most textual scholars argue that this is a non-original reading. For instance, Bruce Metzger writes[5],

The Western reading, “This day I have begotten thee,” which was widely current during the first three centuries, appears to be secondary, derived from Ps 2:7.

Ehrman responds by asking me to address his argumentation for favoring this reading in his scholarly book The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture[6]. However, it is still problematic that Ehrman fails to inform his readers of Jesus, Interrupted that the reading he gives is very highly contested, and the view that Ehrman takes on this point is fringe. When representing a viewpoint that is considered a fringe position in scholarship to a popular audience, one has a duty, or so I would argue, to disclose to the readers that one is adopting an extremely minority position. Nonetheless, I will offer a brief discussion of Ehrman’s argument here.

Ehrman correctly recognizes that the textual variant in question occurs, in terms of Greek witnesses, only in codex Bezae. Although scholars generally do not take a reading to be original that occurs only in Bezae, in The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture Ehrman suggests that “orthodox scribes who could not abide [the text’s] adoptionistic overtones ‘corrected’ it into conformity with the parallel in Mark, ‘You are my beloved Son, in you I am well pleased’ (Mark 1:11),” (p. 62). Ehrman is of course correct that the reading found in Bezae may have offended later scribes due to its potential adoptionist undertones. However, as Tommy Wasserman notes[7],

…the argument can be turned around: the harmonization to Ps 2:7 in some witnesses may ultimately derive from an apocryphal source (from adoptionistic circles), in which the story was modified to include the full citation of Ps 2:7. As in Matt 3:15, this extra-canonical source affected some corners of the New Testament textual tradition.

In support of his preferred reading, Ehrman notes correctly that attestation can be found in various external sources. Those include Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Methodius, the Gospel according to the Hebrews, the Gospel according to the Ebionites, and the Didascalia. However, the evidential value of those sources in confirming Ehrman’s preferred reading is uncertain, since it is difficult to discern precisely what source(s) these writers were dependent on, and it is plausible that some features of these texts may be derivative from apocryphal sources. For example, the attestation in Justin Martyr may be found in Dialogue with Trypho chapter 88, though that same chapter mentions that, following Jesus’ descent into the water, “a fire was kindled in the Jordan.” Ehrman suggests that there is little doubt that Justin Martyr is alluding to Luke’s account because Justin writes that the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus in the form (εἴδει) of a dove, and this word is unique to Luke (footnote 87; p. 99). Tommy Wasserman, however, argues “that Justin or someone else before him has harmonized several sources to include synoptic as well as apocryphal elements.”[8]

Ehrman’s appeal to Origen as supporting his argument is quite misleading. Here is the relevant text (Orig., Comm. Jo. 1.32):

None of these testimonies, however, sets forth distinctly the Saviour’s exalted birth; but when the words are addressed to Him, “Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee,” this is spoken to Him by God, with whom all time is to-day, for there is no evening with God, as I consider, and there is no morning, nothing but time that stretches out, along with His unbeginning and unseen life. The day is to-day with Him in which the Son was begotten, and thus the beginning of His birth is not found, as neither is the day of it.

It is not at all obvious that this text is referring to Jesus’ baptism. It could as well be alluding to Hebrews 1:5, which says, “For to which of the angels did God ever say, ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you?” It could also be alluding to Hebrews 5:5, in which we read, “So also Christ did not exalt himself to be made a high priest, but was appointed by him who said to him, ‘You are my Son, today I have begotten you.’” It should, however, be admitted that Justin Martyr, Clement of Alexandria, the Gospel according to the Hebrews, the Gospel according to the Ebionites, and the Didascalia do explicitly connect Psalm 2:7 with Jesus’ baptism.

In regards to transcriptional probabilities, Ehrman notes that both readings can be interpreted as scribal harmonizations — either to Psalm 2:7 or to Mark 1:11 (p. 63). Ehrman suggests that it is more probable that a scribe would harmonize a passage such that it aligns with a parallel gospel account than with an Old Testament text. It is noteworthy, however, that scribal harmonization is a characteristic of Western witnesses, whereas they are found much more infrequently in Alexandrian witnesses. The variant reading under discussion here is primarily attested by Western witnesses. Interestingly, in Acts 13:33, which quotes Psalm 2:7, Bezae expands the quotation to include Psalm 2:8 as well.

Joseph Fitzmyer, in what is perhaps the best academic commentary on the gospel of Luke, notes that[9],

…despite the importance of Codex Bezae, that is not the best-attested reading; moreover, the similarity of wording between the more common reading (sy ei ho huios mou) and the Greek of Ps 2:7 (huios mou ei sy) was more likely the reason why scribes familiar with the Greek Psalter would have substituted this quotation, derived from a psalm often interpreted in the early Christian centuries as “messianic.” If the quotation of Ps 2:7 were authentic, the heavenly voice would be declaring Jesus to be God’s Son, relating him specifically to the royal, Davidic tradition of Israel. This would, indeed, suit Lucan theology in one sense. But it would be the only place in the NT in which Ps 2:7 would be applied to some event in the career of Jesus other than the resurrection. For it is otherwise used only of the risen Christ (see Acts 13:33; Heb 1:5; 5:5; cf. Rom 1:4).

My own view is that, while Ehrman’s preferred reading does have some plausibility, the balance of probabilities still tends to favor the reading found in the majority of English translations.

I should note at this point that, in their discussion of my remarks concerning this issue in my previous article, the podcast host, Derek Lambert, identified an accidental (but nonetheless important) typographical error in my article. In the quotation from Jesus, Interrupted (reproduced at the beginning of this section), which I had transcribed by hand, I had mistakenly skipped a line. Instead of transcribing Ehrman’s words as “I am taking here the original wording of the verse as found in some older manuscripts of the Bible, even though it is not found in most English translations),” (note the repetition of the word “found”; emphasis mine), my eye had skipped the words between the two “founds”, instead writing “I am taking here the original wording of the verse as found in most English translations).” I regret that I did not catch this while reading through my article before publication and I would like to apologize to Dr. Ehrman for this unfortunate mistake. It has since been corrected. This is in fact a very well documented cause of common scribal errors in ancient manuscripts, known as homeoteleuton (from the Greek, ὁμοιοτέλευτον, meaning “like ending”). Had I read the quotation carefully during proofreading, I would undoubtedly have caught it since it is obvious that Ehrman’s reading is not the one adopted by the majority of English translations. My remarks in the article in which the mistake occurred, however, are based on Ehrman’s original comments, and the typo did not bear on my remarks. I was disappointed with Ehrman’s uncharitable insinuation that this mistake may have been deliberate when it was quite obviously an accidental typographical error.

The Propriety of Harmonization

Although I am not committed to inerrancy as a matter of principle, I am an avid advocate of the practice of harmonization. Sources that have been demonstrated to be substantially reliable constitute evidence for their propositional claims. This is true whether dealing with a religiously significant text or otherwise. Therefore, if one identifies an apparent discrepancy between reliable sources (such as the gospels), the rational course of action is to search for a plausible way in which those texts may be harmonized. Though this practice is typically disavowed in Biblical scholarship, I think the scholarly bias against harmonization is quite unreasonable. I view harmonization as good, responsible scholarly practice, whether one is dealing with religiously significant sources or secular ones. Different sources that intersect in their reportage of a particular event should be allowed to illuminate and clarify one another. I also think that sources that have been otherwise demonstrated to be highly reliable should be given the benefit of the doubt when there is an apparent discrepancy. In my view, in such cases, reasonable harmonizations should be sought for as a first port of call and the author being in error should be concluded only if possible harmonizations are implausible. Lydia McGrew puts this point well[10]:

Harmonization is not an esoteric or religious exercise. Christians studying the Bible should not allow themselves to be bullied by the implication that they are engaging in harmonization only because of their theological commitments and hence are fudging the data for non-scholarly reasons. To the contrary, reliable historical sources can be expected to be harmonizable, and they normally are harmonizable when all the facts are known. Attempting to see how they fit together is an extremely fruitful method to pursue, sometimes even giving rise to connections such as the undesigned coincidences discussed in Hidden in Plain View. This is why I pursue ordinary harmonization between historical sources and why I often conclude that a harmonization is correct.

Readers who are interested in the case for the robust reliability of the gospel accounts are invited to read other articles I have published concerning this topic or listen to this interview.

An important consideration in regards to the assessment of harmonizations, often overlooked, is that the evidential weight of a proposed error or contradiction in Scripture relates not so much to the probability of anyone proposed harmonization but rather to the disjunction of the probabilities associated with each individual candidate harmonization. To take a simplistic example, if one has four harmonizations that each have a 10% probability of being correct, then the evidential weight of the problem is significantly less than if you only had one of those since the disjunction of the relevant probabilities would be 40%. Thus, the text would be only slightly more likely erroneous than not (and inductive arguments for substantial trustworthiness may tip the scales in favor of giving the author the benefit of the doubt). In reality, of course, the math is rather more complicated than this, since one has to consider whether any of the harmonizations are overlapping or would imply one another in such a way that the probabilities cannot be added to each other. Of course, if some of the disjuncts have a very low probability of being correct, then they will not be of much help.

Conclusion

Multiple times throughout the podcast, Ehrman points out that it is possible to make nearly any two contradictory texts harmonize if you try hard enough. This is true, but it is likewise possible to make nearly any two complementary texts contradict if you try hard enough. Ehrman has swung to the extreme that is the polar opposite of the fundamentalist. The great majority of Ehrman’s alleged examples completely disregard the principle of charity and assume the worst when perfectly plausible harmonizations are available. When two ancient sources talk about an event, it is a good scholarly practice to search for plausible harmonizations of points of tension before concluding that the sources in fact conflict with one another (especially when these sources prove to be generally otherwise reliable). For sure, we should not rule out a priori there may be discrepancies in the text. But we also should not assume from the outset that anything that appears at first blush to be in tension with another account must be a discrepancy.

Footnotes

[1] R. T. France, Matthew: An Introduction and Commentary, vol. 1, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1985), 302.

[2] Craig S. Keener, The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1993), Mt 21:4–7.

[3] Lydia McGrew, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2019), 272-282.

[4] William Paley and Edmund Paley, The Works of William Paley, vol. 2 (London; Oxford; Cambridge; Liverpool: Longman and Co.; T. Cadell; J. Richardson; Baldwin and Cradock; Hatchard and Son; J. G. & F. Rivington; Whittaker and Co.; Hamilton, Adams & Co.; Simpkin, Marshall, and Co.; Smith, Elder, and Co.; E. Hodgson; B. Fellowes; R. Mackie; J. Templeman; H. Washbourne; Booker and Dolman; J. Parker; J. and J. J. Deighton; G. and J. Robinson, 1838), 323.

[5] Bruce Metzger, A textual commentary on the Greek New Testament, second edition a companion volume to the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament (4th rev. ed.). (London; New York: United Bible Societies, 1994), 112-113.

[6] Bart D. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture: The Effect of Early Christological Controversies on the Text of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996).

[7] Tommy Wasserman, “Misquoting Manuscripts? The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture Revisited,” in The Making of Christianity — Conflicts, Contacts, and Constructions: Essays in Honor of Bengt Holmberg, ed. Magnus Zetterholm and Samuel Byrskog (Coniectanea Biblica: New Testament Series 47; Winona Lake, Eisenbrauns, 2012), pp. 325-50.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–IX: Introduction, Translation, and Notes, vol. 28, Anchor Yale Bible (New Haven; London: Yale University Press, 2008), 485.

[10] Lydia McGrew, The Mirror or the Mask: Liberating the Gospels from Literary Devices (Tampa, FL: Deward Publishing Company, Ltd, 2019), 53-54.

Did John Really Write John?

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Ryan Leasure

The Gospel according to John has received more scrutiny than the other Gospels put together. Case in point, dating back to the 1920s, critical scholars have argued that the apostle John could not have written the Gospel. Rather, they’ve suggested a whole slew of other possibilities (anonymous, John the Elder, Lazarus, John Mark, the rich young ruler, etc.) But is there any evidence to back up their contentions? Should we reject the traditional position which the church has subscribed to for almost two thousand years?

In this post, I will argue that John the son of Zebedee penned the fourth Gospel. I will make my case in three steps: First, I will examine the external evidence. Second, I will examine the internal evidence. And third, I will refute the common objections.

External Evidence for John’s Authorship

Writing around AD 180, Irenaeus of Lyons wrote, “John, the disciple of the Lord, who also had leaned upon His breast, did himself publish a Gospel during his residence at Ephesus in Asia.”¹ In other words, Irenaeus declares that John wrote the fourth Gospel while living in Ephesus. And this John should be identified with the disciple whom Jesus loved and reclined on Jesus’ breast in John 13:23.

How would Irenaeus be privy to such information? He claims to be a spiritual grandson of John himself! Pay careful attention to how Irenaeus reminisces about his childhood experiences.

I remember the events of those days more clearly than those which have happened recently, . . . so I can speak even of the place in which the blessed Polycarp sat and disputed, how he came in and went out, the character of his life, the appearance of his body, the discourse which he made to the people, how he reported his converse with John and with the others who had seen the Lord, how he remembered their words, and what were the things concerning the Lord which he had heard from them, including his miracles and his teaching, and how Polycarp had received them from the eyewitnesses of the word of life, and reported all things in agreement with the Scriptures.²

Notice that Irenaeus claims to have been taught by Polycarp who was taught by John. That is to say, Irenaeus was in a position to know if John was the author of the fourth Gospel.

Other church fathers also affirm John’s authorship. Clement of Alexandria—also writing around AD 180—stated, “But that John, last of all, conscious that the outward facts had been set forth in the Gospels, was urged on by his disciples, and, divinely moved by the Spirit, composed a spiritual Gospel.”³

The Muratorian Fragment—a late second-century document—states plainly, “The fourth of the Gospels is that of John, [one] of the disciples.”

And finally, writing a couple of decades later, Tertullian reports, “Of the apostles, therefore, John and Matthew first instill faith into us; whilst of apostolic men, Luke and Mark renew it afterwards.” ⁴

On top of all this, every titled manuscript of the Gospel lists John as its author. In short, the early church affirmed that John wrote the fourth Gospel.

Internal Evidence for John’s Authorship

John 21:24 reports, “This is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true.” Which disciple is this? Verse 20 tell us. “Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them, the one who also had leaned back against him during the supper.” In other words, the disciple whom Jesus loved and leaned on Jesus’ breast (John 13:23) wrote this Gospel.

But who is this mysterious disciple whom Jesus loved? He was certainly one of the twelve at the Last Supper (John 13:23). The synoptics make clear that only the apostles joined Jesus for this meal. Moreover, the disciple whom Jesus loved is repeatedly distinguished from Peter (John 13:23-24; 20:2-9; 21:20). Finally, he is one of the seven disciples who went fishing in chapter 21:2. That said, he cannot be Peter, Thomas, or Nathanael. He is, therefore, either one of the sons of Zebedee or one of the other two unnamed disciples that were present at the Sea of Galilee in John 21. It must be said, however, that James the son of Zebedee died in the early 40s, which rules him out as a potential author.

An additional note worth mentioning is that John is never mentioned by name in the Gospel. His absence would be extremely odd if someone else wrote this Gospel. After all, the Gospel mentions other prominent characters like Peter and Andrew and even less familiar characters like Philip and Judas (not Iscariot). Moreover, while the synoptic Gospels all refer to the forerunner of Jesus’ ministry as John the Baptist (it was necessary to distinguish him from the other prominent John), this Gospel only refers to him as John. In other words, the author did not feel it necessary to distinguish that John from himself.

Finally, John and Peter are repeatedly shown as close companions in the synoptic Gospels, Acts, and Galatians (Mark 5:37; 14:33; Acts 3:1-4:23; Gal. 2:9). Similarly, the fourth Gospel puts Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved together frequently (13:23-24; 20:2-10; 21:20-23).

The most plausible explanation for this data is that John is the disciple whom Jesus loved, and therefore, the author of the fourth Gospel.

Answering Objections

One of the more frequently cited reasons for rejecting Johannine authorship is the self-description “the one whom Jesus loved.” In other words, John seems rather full of himself to give himself this title. This objection, however, should not deter us from accepting traditional authorship. After all, what Christian doesn’t affirm that God loves them? There is nothing boastful about making this claim. On the contrary, its the mark of humble gratitude. As Carson and Moo assert, it “is scarcely the mark of arrogance; it is rather the mark of brokenness.”⁵ Paul, for example, declares that Christ “loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20). Nothing arrogant about that. Just plain awe and gratitude.

Another frequent objection to the tradition view is that the early church thought a different John wrote the Gospel. This objection stems from a quotation from Papias who mentions a particular “elder John” in addition to the “apostle John.” However, as Carson and Moo point out, the Greek syntax Papias uses, namely the anaphoric use of the article for the second John, strongly suggests that “elder John” and “apostle John” are really the same person.⁶ Also noteworthy is that Peter calls himself an “elder” in 1 Peter 5:1. In other words, the apostles also understood themselves as elders in the early church. Both 2 and 3 John are said to be by “the elder,” and Papias may simply be echoing that language.

A third objection is that an uneducated Galilean fisherman never could have penned this Greek Gospel. This objection fails on multiple fronts as well. First, while Acts 4:13 states that Peter and John were “uneducated,” that description does not imply that they were illiterate. “Uneducated” simply means that they hadn’t been officially trained in Jewish Rabbinical schools—not unlike Jesus (John 7:15). In fact, most Jewish boys received an education so that they could read the Scriptures. Moreover, John came from wealth (his father owned a large fishing business—Luke 5:3,10; Mark 1:20). Therefore, he most likely received an excellent education.

Recent studies also suggest that Palestinian Jews were often able to speak both Aramaic and Greek.⁷ With the discovery of Greek coins, Judean-Greek documents, Greek names on burial inscriptions, and even a Greek-speaking synagogue, it’s not unreasonable to think John wrote this Gospel. These pieces of evidence don’t even take into account that John had several decades in Greek-speaking Ephesus to brush up on his Greek before writing his Gospel.

The Gospel According to John

Based on the external and internal evidence, John the son of Zebedee is the author of the fourth Gospel. While the objections cannot be ignored, none of them undermine the evidence in favor of traditional authorship.

Why Don’t the Synoptic Gospels Mention Lazarus?

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Ryan Leasure

Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead is one of the most well-known stories in the Gospels. Yet, for some reason, Matthew, Mark, and Luke don’t mention it. This head-scratching absence has raised a lot of doubts about its historicity. After all, this story seems too significant to leave out. As you can imagine, skeptics think John made it up. But could there be a good reason that the earlier Gospels left it out?

While it does seem strange that the synoptic writers would leave out this story, I believe we have a good explanation for its absence in what Gerd Theissen calls “protective anonymity.”[1]

Pre-Markan Tradition

Protective anonymity is based on the premise that a pre-Markan tradition stands behind the passion narrative in Mark 14-16. In other words, while Mark composed much of his Gospel based on Peter’s eyewitness testimony, the last few chapters came from another source that dates much closer to the time of Jesus’ death and resurrection. While biblical scholars are somewhat divided on this issue, the evidence tilts in favor of this pre-Markan source.

For example, scholars have long noted that Mark didn’t arrange the pericopes (e.g., miracles, parables, proclamations, narratives, exorcisms, etc.) chronologically. Rather, he ordered them in ways that suited his purposes. In fact, Matthew and Luke’s orders often diverge from Mark’s. Meaning, Mark could have easily rearranged the stories in a different order without impacting the overall message. However, when one gets to the passion narrative, the entire account presupposes a chronological order. Instead of one short story after another, the entire passion account (ch. 14-16, possibly ch. 11-16) flows like one continuous narrative. Certainly, Mark could have composed these last few chapters himself. But a few features from the text suggest that it was composed earlier and in Jerusalem.

One reason for adopting this view is that Mark mentions “the high priest” but never mentions him by name (Caiaphas). This phrasing would be akin to saying “the president” instead of President Biden. If I had a conversation with someone today and mentioned “the president,” no one would think I was talking about Trump, Obama, Bush, or any other previous president. They would assume I was talking about our current president. The same could be said for Caiaphas. Since he ruled till AD 37, the passion narrative that merely refers to him as “the high priest” must have been in circulation before his tenure ended.

Another reason for thinking that the passion account is early and from Jerusalem is the mention of “James the younger” in Mark 15:40. Theissen argues, “It would have been particularly necessary in Jerusalem to distinguish a ‘James the younger’ (or ‘the less’) from the ‘older’ (or ‘greater’).”[2] He suggests that “James the younger” was the brother of Jesus, and “James the older” was the Son of Zebedee. If Theissen is right, then the need to distinguish the two James would have been necessary in Jerusalem where “James the younger” was overseer of the church. Furthermore, the need to distinguish the two James would only be necessary until AD 44 when “James the older” died.

One more reason for thinking the passion narrative is a pre-Markan tradition is the mention of “the insurrection” in which Barabbas was involved (Mark 15:7). Jews, however, were familiar with a significant uprising led by Theudas in AD 44-45 (Acts 5:36).[3] One would think that if Mark wrote this passion account in the 50s or 60s, he would have been careful to distinguish which uprising Barabbas participated in. The mere mention of “the insurrection” suggests that this narrative pre-dates the insurrection led by Theudas in AD 44-45.

Protective Anonymity

With the pre-Markan tradition established, we are now in a position to answer the question of why Lazarus is never mentioned. Theissen argues that people are left anonymous or unmentioned because if their names got back to the Jerusalem authorities, they could be implicated as accomplices in Jesus’ “revolt.”

Consider the person who cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant in Mark 14:47. Mark never mentions him by name. He simply notes that “one of those who stood by drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest and cut off his ear.” Mark doesn’t even make it clear if this is one of Jesus’ disciples. It’s not until John’s Gospel—written around AD 90—that we discover that the identity of this sword-wielding character is none other than Peter himself. John no longer feels the need to protect Peter’s identity because he was long dead by now. Since Peter most likely would have faced arrest for this attempted murder on the high priest’s servant, this early pre-Markan tradition kept him anonymous.

Another case of protective anonymity is the woman who anointed Jesus in Mark 14:3-9. Her actions would undoubtedly make her an accomplice in Jesus’ messianic “revolt.” Bauckham remarks,

At the time when this tradition took shape in this form in the early Jerusalem church, this woman would have been in danger were she identified as having been complicit in Jesus’ political subversive claim to messianic kingship. Her danger was perhaps even greater than that of the man who attacked the servant of the high priest, for it was she who had anointed Jesus as Messiah.[4]

It’s worth noting that Judas immediately betrayed Jesus to the authorities following the anointing. Once again, it’s John who reveals the identity of this woman as Mary, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, when she no longer needed protective anonymity.

Lazarus

If we are right to believe that the pre-Markan passion narrative intentionally kept people anonymous for their protection, we could understand how it would leave Lazarus out of the story altogether. After all, John 12:10-11 notes that “the chief priests made plans to put Lazarus to death as well, because on account of him many of the Jews were going away and believing in Jesus.” That is to say, Lazarus was a thorn in the side of the Jewish leaders because he was convincing Jews to become Christians by simply walking around. Because Jewish leaders continued to persecute the early church for decades, this early passion narrative had to leave him out of the story altogether for his own protection.

However, some have argued that perhaps Lazarus does sneak into Mark’s passion narrative after all. During Jesus’ arrest, we read, “And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body. And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked” (Mark 14:51-52). Without sounding too immature, I laugh every time I read about this anonymous streaker. Yet, this account is more significant than it may appear. With all the commotion going on (Peter had just whacked off someone’s ear), none of the disciples probably observed this scene. They had already “left him and fled” (Mark 14:50). Therefore, this story must go back to the eyewitness testimony of the streaker himself.

Again, his anonymity was necessary for his protection. After all, the only reason he must have fled naked is because he resisted the guards. Once they grabbed him, he was able to slip away, leaving his linen cloth behind. Undoubtedly, the Jewish leaders would have been looking to arrest this man who fought against them.

So who was this man? Some have argued that it was Lazarus. Wanting to still acknowledge Lazarus’ importance, this early account allows him this brief and very comical appearance. Others have argued that this person is John Mark himself. Like Alfred Hitchcock appearing in one of his own films or an artist painting himself into his picture, Mark inserted himself into the narrative. I don’t think we can know for sure. Although I kind of hope it’s Mark. That just makes for a better story.

[1] Gerd Theissen, The Gospels in Context.

[2] Gerd Theissen, The Gospels in Context, 178.

[3] Josephus, Antiquities, 20.97-98.

[4] Richard Bauckham, Jesus, and the Eyewitnesses, 2^nd ed. 290.

Yes, Bart Ehrman, Jesus is Yahweh

Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

Bart Ehrman is a professor of religious studies at UNC-Chapel Hill in North Carolina. He is well known for his best-selling popular-level books that are critical of the core tenets of evangelical Christianity and in particular the reliability of the New Testament sources. Frequent readers of my articles will already know that Ehrman is not the most careful scholar when it comes to his utilization of ancient sources. A few days ago, Ehrman published two blog posts (here and here) on his website, claiming that the idea that Jesus is Himself Yahweh is a recent doctrinal innovation, completely foreign to the New Testament and the ancient church. Ehrman even goes so far as to say that this is the view of only “some conservative evangelical Christians” and that “I’ve never even heard the claim (let alone a discussion of it) until very recently.” Furthermore, Ehrman adds,

I, frankly, had never even heard of such a thing until six years ago. Maybe I wasn’t listening in Sunday School, or maybe I was sleeping through those particular lectures at Moody Bible Institute; or maybe … Nah, I don’t think so. If someone knows differently, please let me know. But I can’t think of any ancient Christian source that talks about Jesus as Yahweh himself. Jesus is the son of Yahweh.

Ehrman asserts that,

The first time I heard someone authoritatively say that Jesus was Yahweh and that this was standard Christian teaching was in a debate I had with Justin Bass in 2015 – you can listen to it on Youtube. I can’t remember when in the debate he said it but he made some comment about Jesus being Yahweh, and I was floored. I thought: theologians have never called Jesus Yahweh!

For a scholar of Ehrman’s stature to be uninformed regarding Christian orthodox teaching on such a fundamental matter is absolutely astounding. In this article, I respond to Ehrman’s articles and show that he is profoundly mistaken about the teaching of the New Testament and the ancient church.

Early Christian Theologians

Ehrman wonders “if there are any early Christian theologians who have this view.” Yes, there are plenty. For example, Justin Martyr (~100-165), in his dialogue with Trypho the Jew, wrote[1],

…now you will permit me first to recount the prophecies, which I wish to do in order to prove that Christ is called both God and Lord of hosts…

I do not know how one can get much clearer than that. Irenaeus (~130-202) likewise states[2],

For I have shown from the Scriptures, that no one of the sons of Adam is as to everything, and absolutely, called God, or named Lord. But that He is Himself in His own right, beyond all men who ever lived, God, and Lord, and King Eternal, and the Incarnate Word, proclaimed by all the prophets, the apostles, and by the Spirit Himself, may be seen by all who have attained to even a small portion of the truth.

Ignatius of Antioch (~50-108) also affirmed Christ’s full deity. For example, in his epistle to the Ephesians, he wrote[3],

We have also as a Physician the Lord our God, Jesus the Christ, the only begotten Son and Word, before time began, but who afterwards became also man, of Mary the virgin.

I could continue to quote early church fathers for quite some time, but this should suffice to show that the view that Jesus is Yahweh, the eternal God, is not a new idea but rather goes back to the ancient church. I will now turn to Ehrman’s comments on the New Testament.

Is the Name Yahweh Found in the New Testament?

Ehrman states that,

Of course, the name Yahweh is not found in the NT at all, since it is a Hebrew word, and the NT is written in Greek. The NT does not give God a personal name.

This is obviously true since the New Testament was written in Greek, not in Hebrew. However, the New Testament does use an equivalent word — indeed, the word that is substituted for the Hebrew tetragrammaton YHWH in the Greek Septuagint translation of the Hebrew Bible. This word is κύριος, which is translated “Lord” in our English Bibles. Of course, it is true that this word had a broader range of meaning than simply denoting Yahweh (for example, Paul uses it of earthly masters — see Eph 6:5). However, the meaning of Greek words, as intended by the original author, can be shaved down through an examination of context. For example, Hebrews 1:10-12 quotes from Psalm 102:25-27:

You, Lord, laid the foundation of the earth in the beginning, and the heavens are the work of your hands; 11 they will perish, but you remain; they will all wear out like a garment, 12 like a robe you will roll them up, like a garment they will be changed. But you are the same, and your years will have no end.

Verse 10 uses the word κύριος, which evidently (given the fact that the author is quoting an Old Testament Psalm concerning the Lord God) is intended to denote Yahweh. What makes this text especially noteworthy for our purposes here is that the author of Hebrews applies the words of this Psalm to Jesus. Indeed, this Hebrew Biblical text is one of several applied to Jesus in Hebrews 1, as the author compares and contrasts the exaltation of the Son with that of the angelic beings.

To take another example, consider Paul’s quotation of Joel 2:32 in Romans 10:13: “For ‘everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’” Again, this alludes to an Old Testament text that concerns Yahweh. But Paul introduces this text only a few verses after Paul declared that “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Rom 10:9). The implication here is that the κύριος of verse 9 is the same referent as in verse 13 — namely, Jesus. In other words, Jesus is the Yahweh of Joel 2:32, on whose name we are to call. This point is drawn out even more explicitly by Paul in 1 Corinthians 1:2: “To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours.” This text again clearly alludes to Joel 2:32, except the Lord (κύριος) upon which we are to call is none other than Jesus Christ.

Another example is found in 1 Peter 2:2-4:

2 Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation— 3 if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. 4 As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious…

Verse 3 quotes from Psalm 34:8 (“Oh, taste and see that the LORD [Yahweh] is good!”). However, verse 4 identifies the κύριος of Psalm 34:8 as none other than Jesus Himself (the nearest antecedent of the pronoun “him” in verse 4 is “the Lord” from verse 3). This implies that Jesus is the Yahweh of Psalm 34:8.

Yet a further example can be found in 1 Peter 3:14-15:

14 But even if you should suffer for righteousness’ sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, 15 but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy The Holy…

Admittedly, there exists some level of ambiguity about the original reading of verse 15, since the majority of later manuscripts read θεόν (“God”) instead of Χριστόν (“Christ”). However, Bruce Metzger notes that[4],

The reading Χριστόν, however, is strongly supported by early and diversified external evidence…as well as by transcriptional probability, the more familiar expression (κύριον τὸν θεόν) replacing the less usual expression (κύριον τὸν Χριστόν). The omission of τὸν Χριστόν in the patristic treatise de Promissionibus attributed to Quodvultdeus must be due to accidental oversight on the part of either translator or copyist.

If (as seems likely) the original reading is indeed “Christ the Lord”, then we have another example of an Old Testament text that concerns Yahweh being applied to Jesus. Compare 1 Peter 3:14-15, above, with Isaiah 8:12-13:

12 “Do not call conspiracy all that this people calls conspiracy, and do not fear what they fear, nor be in dread. 13 But the LORD of hosts, him you shall honor as holy.

Isaiah 8:12 is quoted by 1 Peter 3:14. Isaiah 8:13 is quoted by 1 Peter 3:15, except instead of calling his readers to honor the Lord of hosts as holy (as Isaiah did), Peter implores his readers to honor Christ the Lord as holy. Thus, we have yet another instance of the title κύριος (which is properly interpreted here as a substitute for the Hebrew tetragrammaton) being applied to Jesus.

I could continue in a similar vein for a considerable time. However, I trust that this is sufficient to dispel Ehrman’s contention that the New Testament does not use the name Yahweh and therefore never calls Jesus Yahweh.

Does Psalm 110 Preclude Jesus from Being Yahweh?

Ehrman continues,

When Christians wanted to find another divine being in the OT to identify as Christ, they went to passages like Psalm 110: “The LORD said to my Lord, sit at my right hand until I make your enemies your footstool.” Based on what I said in my previous post, you can reconstruct who is talking to whom here (notice the first LORD is in caps and the second not): “YHWH said to Adonai….”

Ehrman’s entire argument here implicitly presupposes Unitarianism. If the doctrine of the Trinity is true, then there is no problem with persons within the being or essence of Yahweh being distinguished from one another and even participating in conversation with each other. Nor is there a problem with the Father exalting the Son, since the Son had previously voluntarily humbled Himself through His incarnation and death on the cross. No Trinitarian is identifying the Son with the Father. Rather, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are each distinctive persons who together totally share the essence of Yahweh, each possessing the divine attributes fully and completely.

Ehrman’s representation of the words used in Psalm 110:1 is not quite accurate, since it does not say that “YHWH said to Adonai…” but rather “YHWH said to Adoni.” This difference make look trivial (especially as these two words are distinguished only by a difference in Masoretic vowel pointing) but it is actually important. The title “Adonai” is exclusively used as a divine title (essentially as a synonym for YHWH). In fact, the ancient Hebrews would, instead of pronouncing the divine name, say “Adonai” instead. The word “Adoni”, by contrast, is simply the possessive form of the Hebrew word “Adon”, which means “Lord” or “Master” (the Hebrew equivalent of the Greek word κύριος). The word can be used of Yahweh, depending on the context, but it is not exclusively reserved for Yahweh. The upshot of this is that, though many Christians have used this text to argue for a plurality of divine persons (and, indeed, the deity of Christ), the reality is that any such argument based on this text is going to require more work and nuance than it often receives. I do not believe this text to be as conclusive as the previous texts discussed in the foregoing. However, it is, I would argue, certainly suggestive as we shall see. The context sheds some light on the intended referent of verse 1. In verse 5-7 of Psalm 110, we read,

The Lord is at your right hand; he will crush kings on the day of his wrath. He will judge the nations, heaping up the dead and crushing the rulers of the whole earth. He will drink from a brook along the way, and so he will lift his head high.

In the Hebrew, verse 5 does indeed identify the one seated at Yahweh’s right hand as none other than Adonai, a word used only ever of deity. Thus, Psalm 110 implies a plurality of divine persons within the Godhead. One possible reply to this is that Psalm 110:5 is merely the reversal of Psalm 110:1. Just as David’s Lord sits at the right hand of Yahweh, so also Yahweh is at the right hand of David’s Lord. For instance, in Psalm 109:31, Yahweh is at the right hand of the needy one, and in Psalm 16:8, Yahweh is at the right hand of the Psalmist David. The problem with this argument is that if one continues reading Psalm 110, it is clear that the “He’s” of verses 5-7 all refer back to Adonai, and in verse 7 this individual is said to drink from a brook — a human function. Thus, the individual seated at Yahweh’s right hand in Psalm 110 appears to be a divine-human person.

Furthermore, Jesus Himself Jesus makes the argument that “David himself calls him ‘Lord.’ How then can he be his son?” (Mk 12:37). The point Jesus is making is that none of David’s descendants could be greater than David. This, then, cannot be referring to an ordinary human descendent of David. The question is thus raised as to what sort of Lord this could possibly be referring to. But we can go even further than that. David’s Lord also cannot be any human king, since in Psalm 2:10-12 all kings are to be subject to David, and Psalm 89:26-27 tells us that,

I will appoint him [David] to be my firstborn, the most exalted of the kings of the earth.

It also cannot be a mere angelic creature since angels serve God’s elect and are servants themselves (c.f. Heb 1:7, 14; Rev 19:10 and 22:8-9). Who, then, is left? God.

The Angel of the Lord

Ehrman notes that Christians (such as Justin Martyr in the second century) have often identified the angel of Yahweh, in the Hebrew Bible, as a pre-incarnate manifestation of Christ. He writes,

I wonder if the confusion among some evangelicals about the Christian understanding of Christ (when they say he is Yahweh) is because the “Angel” of the LORD is so fully representative of YHWH himself that he is sometimes called YHWH after he is clearly identified NOT as YHWH but his angel. Why would he be called YHWH if he was YHWH’s messenger? It would be kind of like if a messenger of the king comes to you and orders you to do something, you tell your neighbors that the “king” has told you to do something. Well, actually, his messenger did, but he was so fully representative of the king that his words were the king’s.

This interpretation, however, fails to account for the fact that various people throughout the Hebrew Bible marvel at the fact that they have seen the angel of Yahweh and yet their lives have been spared (people aren’t supposed to be able to see Yahweh and live — Exodus 33:20). For example, consider the words of Jacob after having wrestled with a man in Genesis 32, one who is identified in Hosea 12:4 as the angel of Yahweh: “So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying, ‘For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.’” Further support for the individual with whom Jacob wrestled being the angel of Yahweh comes from the parallel between Genesis 32:29 and Judges 13:18, in which the man and the angel of Yahweh respectively say, upon being asked for their name, “Why do you ask my name?”

Another occurrence of this is in Judges 6 where we read of Gideon’s encounter with the angel of Yahweh. In verses 22-24, we read,

22 Then Gideon perceived that he was the angel of the LORD. And Gideon said, “Alas, O LORD God! For now I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face.” 23 But the Lord said to him, “Peace be to you. Do not fear; you shall not die.” 24 Then Gideon built an altar there to the LORD and called it, The LORD Is Peace. To this day it still stands at Ophrah, which belongs to the Abiezrites.

Yet a further instance occurs in Judges 13, which records the appearance of the angel of Yahweh to Manoah and his wife to announce the birth of Samson. In verse 21-22, we read,

21 The angel of the Lord appeared no more to Manoah and to his wife. Then Manoah knew that he was the angel of the Lord. 22 And Manoah said to his wife, “We shall surely die, for we have seen God.”

Thus, we see that numerous texts (and there are plenty that I have not mentioned) bear witness to the deity of the angel of Yahweh. While Ehrman is correct to note that many of these texts also distinguish the angel of Yahweh from God, this is very consistent with a Trinitarian paradigm that views the messenger of God to be Yahweh and yet in another sense somehow distinct from Yahweh.

Ehrman’s interpretation of the angel of the Lord passages also fails to account for the parallelism observed in Genesis 48:15-16, in which we read of Jacob’s blessing of the sons of Joseph. He said,

15 “The God before whom my fathers Abraham and Isaac walked, the God who has been my shepherd all my life long to this day, 16 the angel who has redeemed me from all evil, may he bless the boys…”

Here, we see a poetic parallelism where the angel is identified as God. In fact, in the Hebrew, verse 16b uses the singular pronoun, “may he bless the boys”, implying that the angel and God are one and the same.

I discuss the subject of the angel of the Lord in much more detail here and here.

The Carmen Christi

Ehrman next turns his attention to the Christ poem in Philippians 2:5-11. He writes,

When Christ is exalted after his death, God gives him “the name that is above every name” so that all creation will worship and confess him. That is a reference to Isaiah 45 where Yahweh alone has the name above every name so that all worship and confess him alone.

Possibly these modern Christians are thinking that Christ, therefore, must have been given the name YHWH, and therefore he *is* YHWH. But the passage doesn’t seem to mean that. The ultimate LORD of all, YHWH, is the one who *gives* Jesus the name that is above all others. It’s worth noting that in this very passage, when God gives Jesus his “name,” it does not mean that he’s made a name switch for Jesus. On the contrary, the passage says that the name to which everyone will bow in worship and confess is *Jesus*! (Not YHWH): “That at the name of Jesus every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess.” Jesus’ own name is exalted.

This, however, is not the argument at all. I do not interpret the “name” of verse 9 to be a personal name. Rather, this in my opinion is best understood as referring to Christ’s reputation that He received as a consequence of His humiliation and death upon the cross.

There are at least three mutually supporting arguments for Christ’s deity that may be adduced from this text. First, this text is chiefly concerned with Christ’s humility, since “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped” (Phil 2:6). This only makes sense if Christ is equal in status to God, since one is not commended for humility for not exalting oneself to a higher status than one had a right to. If I refrain from overthrowing the monarchy and exalting myself as king, I am not due praise for my humility in so restraining myself. The text, then, is best understood if Christ voluntarily laid aside the divine privilege that was rightfully His. This reading is also supported by the Greek. Indeed, the construction is known as a double accusative of object-complement. Daniel Wallace explains that[5],

An object-complement double accusative is a construction in which one accusative substantive is the direct object of the verb and the other accusative (either noun, adjective, participle, or infinitive) complements the object in that it predicates something about it.

In this case, the verb is οὐχ ἡγήσατο (“did not count”), the direct object is τὸ εἶναι ἴσα θεῷ (“equality with God”) and the object complement is ἁρπαγμὸν (“a thing to be grasped”). Thus, the relationship between the direct object and the object complement is rather like an equal’s sign. In other words, Jesus did not count equality with God to be a thing to be grasped (ἁρπαγμὸν). Furthermore, Roy Hoover has argued that this is in fact an idiomatic expression, which “refers to something already present and at one’s disposal. The question… [is] whether or not one chooses to exploit something.”[6] Hoover observes that in every instance where this noun ἁρπαγμός is the object compliment in a construction such as this (where the verb is one of regarding or seeing or consideration), it always means something like an exploitable advantage. Thus, argues Hoover, one could reasonably translate this text to be saying that Christ did not regard being equal with God as something to take advantage of.

A second consideration is that Paul uses the Greek word μορφῇ in verse 6 to describe Christ being in the form of God and uses this exact same word in verse 7 to describe Christ taking the form of a servant. This implies that Christ was in the form of God in the same sense as He took upon Himself the form of a servant. Since Christ was very literally a servant, “being born in the likeness of men” (v. 7b), it follows that Christ was also literally God.

Third, Ehrman rightly points out that verses 10-11 allude to Isaiah 45:23, in which we read, “To me [that is, Yahweh] every knee shall bow, every tongue shall swear allegiance.” However, in the context of Philippians 2:10-11, every knee is bowing and every tongue swearing allegiance to Jesus. Indeed, that is what is meant by confessing that Jesus Christ is Lord (κύριος), which literally means master.

Conclusion

To conclude, contrary to Ehrman’s assertions, the view that Jesus is Yahweh has been the orthodox Christian position for nearly two millennia, and it is taught in the New Testament. Ehrman claims that the name Yahweh is never used in the New Testament and so could not be applied by the New Testament authors to Jesus. However, the New Testament does use the equivalent Greek term κύριος. Although this word is also used to describe earthly masters, the word is often used to denote Yahweh when the New Testament quotes the Old Testament, and often these texts are explicitly applied to the person of Jesus. Ehrman’s argument from the New Testament’s usage of Psalm 110 presupposes a Unitarian paradigm. Though Ehrman argues that the angel of the Lord in the Hebrew Bible is only the agent of Yahweh who is invested with divine authority, this argument collapses on the basis of the various exclamations of surprise, following an encounter with the angel of the Lord, that one has survived despite having seen God face-to-face. Finally, Ehrman is mistaken about Philippians 2:5-11, which is best read as indicating that Christ voluntarily laid aside the divine privilege that was rightfully His in order to take upon Himself the form of a servant.

Footnotes

[1] Justin Martyr, “Dialogue of Justin with Trypho, a Jew,” in The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe, vol. 1, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Company, 1885), 212.

[2] Irenaeus of Lyons, “Irenæus against Heresies,” in The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe, vol. 1, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Company, 1885), 449.

[3] Ignatius of Antioch, “The Epistle of Ignatius to the Ephesians,” in The Apostolic Fathers with Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, ed. Alexander Roberts, James Donaldson, and A. Cleveland Coxe, vol. 1, The Ante-Nicene Fathers (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Company, 1885), 52–200.

[4] Bruce Manning Metzger, United Bible Societies, A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament, Second Edition a Companion Volume to the United Bible Societies’ Greek New Testament (4th Rev. Ed.) (London; New York: United Bible Societies, 1994), 621–622.

[5] Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996), 182.

[6] Roy W. Hoover, “The Harpagmos Enigma,” Harvard Theological Review 64 (1971).

Did Jesus Really Rise From the Dead? A Historian, an Atheist, a Skeptic, a Theologian, and an Ex-Con Weigh In

CrossExamined

By Alisa Childers

It’s that time of year again—the time when Christians come together to celebrate the pinnacle of our faith, the resurrection of Jesus. It’s also the time when news outlets like Time, the Discovery Channel, and Newsweek unleash their skepticism about Christianity, the Bible, and the resurrection. It can be confusing to wade through the various historical evidences, personal beliefs, and opinions floating around in scholarship and the blogosphere. Here are quotes from several sources who all have unique qualifications and an interesting take on the evidence:

1. The Historian

Gary Habermas is an American historian, and the Distinguished Research Professor of Apologetics and Philosophy at Liberty University. He is considered to be one of the foremost scholars on the resurrection of Jesus. While researching the resurrection, he combed through the works of both secular and Christian scholars. He wrote:

I recently completed an overview of more than 1,400 sources on the resurrection of Jesus published since 1975. I studied and catalogued about 650 of these texts in English, German, and French. Some of the results of this study are certainly intriguing. For example, perhaps no fact is more widely recognized than that early Christian believers had real experiences that they thought were appearances of the risen Jesus. A critic may claim that what they saw were hallucinations or visions, but he does not deny that they actually experienced something.[1]

There is a virtual consensus among scholars who study Jesus’ resurrection that, subsequent to Jesus’ death by crucifixion, his disciples really believed that he appeared to them risen from the dead.[2]

2. The Atheist

Gerd Ludemann is a German New Testament scholar, historian, and atheist. He was once a professing Christian, but walked away from his faith when he became convinced that very little of what is contained in the New Testament is historically reliable. Even so, he wrote:

It may be taken as historically certain that Peter and the disciples had experiences after Jesus’s death in which Jesus appeared to them as the risen Christ.[3]

3. The Skeptic

Bart Ehrman is the Distinguished Professor of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He is one of the most respected scholars in the field of New Testament studies—and he is agnostic. About the resurrection of Jesus, he wrote:

Historians, of course, have no difficulty speaking about the belief in the resurrection of Jesus, since this is a matter of public record. It is a historical fact that some of Jesus’ followers came to believe that he had been raised from the dead soon after his execution. We know some of these believers by name; one of them, the Apostle Paul, claims quite plainly to have seen Jesus alive after his death. Thus, for the historian, Christianity begins after the death of Jesus, not with the resurrection itself, but with the belief in the resurrection.[4]

In a recent blog post he wrote:

The most important thing to stress is that there are two historical realities that simply cannot be denied. The followers of Jesus did claim that Jesus came back to life. If they had not claimed that, we would not have Christianity. So they did claim it. Moreover, they did claim that they knew he rose precisely because some of them saw him alive again afterward. No one can doubt that.[5]

4. The Theologian

The type of historical evidence above caused leading New Testament scholar, historian, and theologian N.T. Wright to conclude:

As a historian, I cannot explain the rise of early Christianity unless Jesus rose again, leaving an empty tomb behind him.[6]

5. The Ex-con

Charles Colson, who once served as Special Counsel to President Richard Nixon, famously went to prison for his involvement in the Watergate scandal in the early 70’s. He became a Christian in 1973, largely due to the evidence for the resurrection of Jesus. One detail regarding Watergate was similar to the resurrection: in both cases, 12 men claimed something that would affect world history. In the case of Watergate, it only took two weeks for them to crack under pressure:

The real cover-up, the lie, could only be held together for two weeks, and then everybody else jumped ship in order to save themselves. Now, the fact is that all that those around the President were facing was embarrassment, maybe prison. Nobody’s life was at stake.

But what about the disciples? Twelve powerless men, peasants really, were facing not just embarrassment or political disgrace, but beatings, stonings, execution. Every single one of the disciples insisted, to their dying breaths, that they had physically seen Jesus bodily raised from the dead. Don’t you think that one of those apostles would have cracked before being beheaded or stoned? That one of them would have made a deal with the authorities? None did.

Jesus is Lord: That’s the thrilling message of Easter. And it’s an historic fact, one convincingly established by the evidence—and one you can bet your life upon. Go ahead researchers—dig up all the old graves you want. You won’t change a thing. He has risen.[7]

Even the atheists and skeptics confirm that Jesus’ disciples claimed and believed that they had seen Jesus risen from the dead. History tells us that they were willing to suffer and die for that belief. It’s reasonable to confidently agree with what the church has affirmed over the centuries—”Christ is risen. He is risen indeed!”[8]

References:

[1] Gary R. Habermas & Michael R. Licona, The Case for the Resurrection of Jesus (Kregel Publications, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2004) p. 60 (Emphasis mine)

[2] Ibid., p. 49

[3] Gerd Lüdemann, What Really Happened to Jesus?, trans. John Bowden (Louisville, Kent.: Westminster John Knox Press, 1995) p. 80

[4] Bart Ehrman, The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings (Oxford University Press, New York, Oxford, 2004) p. 234 (Emphasis mine)

[5] Bart Ehrman, “Questions on the Resurrection and My Personal Spiritual Experiences: Readers’ Mailbag” www.ehrmanblog.org, March 24, 2017, accessed April 6, 2017

[6] N.T. Wright, “The New Unimproved Jesus,” Christianity Today (September 13, 1993), p. 26 (Cited by William Lane Craig, “The Resurrection of Jesus” www.reasonablefaith.org, accessed April 6, 2017)

[7] Charles Colson, “An Unholy Hoax?” www.epm.org, March 29, 2002, accessed April 6, 2017.

[8] John 11:25-26

Simon of Cyrene, Cleopas, and the Eyewitness Testimony of the Gospels

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Ryan Leasure

Modern critics doubt that eyewitnesses stand behind the four Gospels. In fact, they argue that the first followers of Jesus told others about Jesus who told others about Jesus who told others about Jesus, and eventually someone wrote all those stories down—much like the game of telephone. According to this theory, anonymous figures wrote the Gospels in places like Turkey, Greece, and Rome.

Biblical scholar Richard Bauckham begs to differ. One of the more brilliant ways Bauckham pushed back against the form criticism of the early twentieth century was to highlight that the names in the Gospels correspond to the names in the broader Palestinian record. In other words, one would expect a slew of unrealistic Palestinian names (like Marcus or Gaius) if someone was merely writing hearsay from across the Roman Empire. This point is especially true when one considers that the Jewish names across the Empire were radically different from the Palestinian Jewish names. The fact that the Gospels give realistic names suggests that the accounts can be traced back to Palestine itself.

But Bauckham also looks at the names from a different angle to provide further support for eyewitness testimony. He argues that the presence of certain names seems highly unusual unless they were the eyewitness sources behind their stories.

Anonymous by Default

Most of the people in the Gospels are anonymous. Besides the disciples, government officials, and a few key figures, just about everyone else remains anonymous. Allow me to give you some samples from Luke:

Luke 5:12 — “While he was in one of the cities, there came a man full of leprosy.”
Luke 6:6 — “On another Sabbath, he entered the synagogue and was teaching, and a man was there whose right hand was withered.”
Luke 7:2 — “Now a centurion had a servant who was sick and at the point of death, who was highly valued by him.”
Luke 8:43 — “And there was a woman who had had a discharge of blood for twelve years, and though she had spent all her living on physicians, she could not be healed by anyone.”
Luke 10:25 — “And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, ‘Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?’”
Luke 13:14 — “But the ruler of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had healed on the Sabbath, said to the people, ‘There are six days in which work ought to be done. Come on those days and be healed, and not on the Sabbath day.’”

I could list more. By my count fifty-one anonymous characters appear in Luke. This does not count large groups such as the five thousand or the seventy-two. Nor does this list include generic statements where Jesus heals “many” or interacts with a crowd.

Since obscure characters are usually anonymous, we should take notice when one of them gets mentioned.

Simon of Cyrene

Mark mentions three obscure figures in Mark 15:21. He notes, “And they compelled a passerby, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming in from the country, the father of Alexander and Rufus, to carry his cross.” It’s noteworthy that none of these three figures show up anywhere else in the narrative. Moreover, while Matthew and Luke also mention Simon of Cyrene, they leave out his two sons. What best explains this phenomena?

Church tradition suggests that Mark’s Gospel is more or less Peter’s account of things. Yet, Peter wasn’t in all places at all times. In fact, he drops out of the narrative in the previous chapter. He’s presumably in hiding after Jesus’ arrest. So how would Peter or Mark know that Simon carried Jesus’ cross? Who’s testimony stands behind this story?

It most certainly has to be Simon of Cyrene. Furthermore, the mention of his two sons Alexander and Rufus suggests that Mark expected his readers to know who they were. In fact, if Mark wrote his Gospel in Rome (as tradition suggests), it’s reasonable to believe that the church heard this story from Alexander and Rufus themselves. Think about it. Alexander and Rufus must have heard the story dozens of times from their dad. And now as they relayed this same story to the church in Rome, imagine how proud they must have felt. That’s our dad! He carried Jesus’ cross! Since neither Matthew nor Luke mention these two sons, we can assume that their audiences (places other than Rome) would not have been familiar with them.

Cleopas

After his resurrection from the dead, Jesus appears to two individuals on the road to Emmaus — Cleopas and an anonymous figure. Why mention Cleopas and not the other? The story obviously does not require him to be named.

The most reasonable explanation is that Cleopas must be the source for this specific account. Again, none of the disciples were present. Luke himself was not present. But as Luke mentioned in his prologue, he spoke with different eyewitnesses before compiling his Gospel account (Luke 1:1-3). Cleopas was one such eyewitness.

Also worth noting is that Cleopas was probably Jesus’ uncle. Elsewhere, John reports, “but standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (John 19:25). While the spelling is different in John, Bauckham argues that “Clopas is a very rare Semitic form of the Greek name Cleopas, so rare that we can be certain this is the Clopas who, according to Hegesippus, was the brother of Jesus’ father Joseph.”[1]

Writing in the early fourth century, church historian Eusebius references Hegesippus’ quote on Clopas. He writes:

After the martyrdom of James and the conquest of Jerusalem which immediately followed, it is said that those of the apostles and disciples of the Lord that were still living came together from all directions with those that were related to the Lord according to the flesh (for the majority of them also were still alive) to take counsel as to who was worthy to succeed James. They all with one consent pronounced Symeon, the son of Clopas, of whom the Gospel also makes mention; to be worthy of the episcopal throne of that parish. He was a cousin, as they say, of the Saviour. For Hegesippus records that Clopas was a brother of Joseph.[2]

According to church tradition, Clopas’ son, Symeon, the cousin of Jesus and James, became the overseer of the church in Jerusalem after James’ martyrdom in AD 62. Thus, we can see why Clopas’ testimony might carry some significant weight in the early church. He was the uncle of Jesus, and his son was a prominent leader in the Jerusalem church.

Names and Eyewitnesses

A few other names also fit this same description (Jairus, Bartimaeus, and Zacchaeus to name a few). By looking at the general pattern in the Gospels, these obscure figures should have remained anonymous. Therefore, their names seem rather significant. I believe Bauckham is correct when he suggests “that many of these named characters were eyewitnesses who not only originated the traditions to which their names are attached but also continued to tell these stories as authoritative guarantors of their traditions.”[3]

Notes

[1] Richard Bauckham, Jesus, and the Eyewitnesses, 47.

[2] Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 3.11.

[3] Richard Bauckham, Jesus, and the Eyewitnesses, 39.

Would Jesus have Really Received a Proper Burial?

Jesus Christ, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Ryan Leasure

Critics of Christianity like to suggest that a crucified victim like Jesus never would have received a proper burial. They point to cases where the Romans left victims on the cross for days while birds ate away at their flesh to serve as a reminder to everyone who walked by not mess with Rome. What’s more, the Romans usually tossed the remains into a common grave. The theory goes, in no case would Rome give permission for a crucified victim to receive a proper burial.

It’s no secret that crucifixion was a horrendous experience. It was so terrible, that ancients made up a new word to describe the agony of crucifixion — excruciating. Furthermore, Rome only crucified non-Romans guilty of the worst of crimes. When you consider this, it seems plausible that the Romans would have forbidden Jesus’ burial in a tomb. But just because something is plausible doesn’t mean that’s what actually happened.

Let me illustrate my point. A few years ago, the U.S. Navy Seals carried out a secret mission to capture and kill Osama Bin Laden. It’s standard procedure for United States special forces to capture the enemy and bring them back to a high security prison for interrogation. In this instance, however, they killed Bin Laden on the spot and dumped his body in the ocean. Now let me ask you this: Should future Americans one hundred years from now be skeptical that the U.S. Navy Seals killed Bin Laden since it was implausible — not an ordinary occurrence? No, of course not, because history is filled with implausible events.

Politics and Jewish Customs

So is it inconceivable that Jesus received a proper burial in a tomb? I don’t think so for a few of reasons. First, Pontius Pilate was a politician who wanted to keep his post. As the Roman governor, it was his responsibility to keep the peace in the region — the Pax Romana. Thus, it was in Pilate’s best interest to cooperate with the Jewish leadership and be considerate of their customs lest he instigate the masses. Jewish historian Josephus writes that emperor Tiberius had previously chastised Pilate for being insensitive to the Jewish culture when he placed pagan symbols inside the temple. This act, of course, led to a mob, which ultimately subsided when Pilate removed the artifacts. Pilate was down to his final strike; therefore, he had extra motivation to cooperate with Jewish leadership.

Now John’s gospel tells us why the Jews wanted to take Jesus’ body down from the cross instead of leaving it up indefinitely. We read in John 19:31, “Now it was the day of Preparation, and the next day was to be a special Sabbath. Because the Jewish leaders did not want the bodies left on the crosses during the Sabbath, they asked Pilate to have the legs broken and the bodies taken down.” In other words, Pilate needed to honor the Sabbath, and the text indicates that he did just that — although the soldiers didn’t need to break Jesus’ legs. Remember, Emperor Tiberius had already rebuked him once. Pilate needed to navigate this situation carefully.

Archeological Evidence

Second, we have archeological evidence that Pilate allowed crucified victims to receive a proper burial. Before I disclose what that evidence is, let me first describe ancient Jewish burial practices. When a Jewish loved one died, they were wrapped in a cloth, adorned with perfumes and spices, and placed in a tomb. After one year, the family members would return to the tomb to collect the bones of their deceased relative and place them in a smaller box called an ossuary. This allowed for more space in the tombs so that all the deceased family members could be near each other.

Amazingly, in 1968, archaeologists discovered an ossuary of a Jewish man named Yehohanan in the north-eastern quadrant of Jerusalem. This young man noticeably had been crucified. I say noticeably, because a six-inch iron spike was still attached to his heel bone with wood fragments from a cross still attached to the spike (see image above). Experts date the bones to the late 20’s — less than a decade before Jesus’ death and still during Pilate’s rule¹. Here is evidence that Pilate permitted Jewish crucifixion victims to receive a proper burial. It seems, then, that Jesus’ burial in a tomb isn’t without precedent.

Joseph Of Arimathea

Third, each of the Gospel writers indicate that Joseph of Arimathea buried Jesus’ body in his tomb. This meets the criteria of multiple attestation which states that if multiple, independent sources report an event, it’s more probable that it happened.

More than that, it also meets the criteria of embarrassment because it makes a Jewish council member look more compassionate than Jesus’ disciples. If the gospel writers lied, why would they go out of their way to make themselves look bad? To be sure, they indicate that Joseph was a believer, but why give credit to a member of the council that was responsible for most Christianity’s early persecution? It’s hard to imagine that the early Christians wanted to give credit to the Jewish leaders for anything.

Furthermore, it makes no sense to credit a prominent member of Jewish society whom everyone knew and could be talked to — someone who could debunk the story if it was false. If the disciples lied about the story, it would have been more prudent to give themselves credit for the burial or invent a character that no one could question. The only reason, therefore, the early Christians had for giving credit to Joseph of Arimathea is that he must have, in fact, buried Jesus in his tomb.

Was Jesus Buried in A Tomb?

On the surface, the claim that Jesus wouldn’t have received a proper burial sounds compelling. Yet, when you dig a little deeper and understand more of the context, Jesus’ burial in a tomb makes the most sense of all the data. Therefore, I think we can confidently say that Jesus’ burial is not fake news.

6 Reasons Why Peter Is The Source Of Mark’s Gospel

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Erik Manning

Many of the early church fathers say that Mark’s Gospel is based on Peter’s preaching. If that’s the case, it’s understandable why an apostle like Matthew or someone like Luke would use Mark as a source. You can’t get much closer to the life of Jesus than through the eyes of Peter.

We’ve looked at what the early church fathers had to say about Mark before. However, skeptics like Bart Ehrman say that this whole idea that Mark based his Gospel on Peter’s preaching stems from Papias, and Papias doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

OK, so now what?

While I don’t think that argument works, what if I said there was a way to bypass this objection? Are there any internal clues in Mark’s Gospel that point to Peter being the source?

In this video, I look at six internal evidences that demonstrate that Peter is Mark’s main source.

When Was the New Testament Considered Scripture? 5 Facts That Point to an Early Canon

4. Is the NT True?, Theology and Christian Apologetics

By Alisa Childers

One of the most common misconceptions about the New Testament canon (the list of books the church recognizes as authoritative) is that early Christians didn’t have any Scripture until hundreds of years after the life of Christ and the Apostles. The church then examined all the books they had and “picked” the ones they thought should go in the canon. However, this is not how it happened.

Most of the earliest Christians were Jews, so they had the Old Testament Scriptures, but concerning the 27 books of the New Testament, there wasn’t an official canon until three or four hundred years later. That doesn’t mean they didn’t have New Testament Scripture. In fact, the word “canon” does not need to be confined to a formal and final list, but rather reflects “the entire process by which the formation of the church’s sacred writings took place.”[1] Here are 5 facts that point to an early canon:

Fact #1: Early Christians differentiated between canonical and non-canonical books.

Christians divided books into four categories:

Recognized books: Certain books like the four Gospels, Acts, and the letters of Paul were regarded as canonical by early Christians and were not disputed. In the 4th century, church historian Eusebius noted that this core canon had existed in Christianity for some time.[2]
Disputed books: Other books such as James, Jude, 2 Peter, 2 and 3 John, were disputed by some, yet accepted by many. These books weren’t officially canonized until later.[3]
Rejected books: Some books were acknowledged to be helpful for spiritual growth, but were not regarded as having the same authority as Scripture. Among these books were the Shepherd of Hermas, the Acts of Paul, and the Epistle of Barnabas, to name a few.[4]

Heretical books: A few books were never considered for canonical status and were rejected as outright heresy, such as the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Peter, and the Acts of Andrew and John.[5]

Fact #2: Certain New Testament writings were cited as Scripture not long after they were penned.

The earliest mention of a New Testament book being referred to as Scripture comes from the New Testament itself. That’s as early as it gets! In 1 Timothy 5:18, the Apostle Paul writes:
For the Scripture says: Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain, and, the worker is worthy of his wages.

The first part of Paul’s quotation comes from Deuteronomy 25:4, but the second part comes from the New Testament—Luke 10:7 to be exact. In other words, Paul quotes Luke’s Gospel and calls it “Scripture.”

Another example comes from 2 Peter 3:15-16, where Peter mentions “all of Paul’s letters,” and warns believers to not be deceived by people who twist them “as they do the other Scriptures.” He obviously believed Paul’s epistles were on equal footing with the Old Testament, and expected this to be uncontroversial among his readers.

When the original Apostles were still alive, they discipled younger converts. One such convert, Polycarp, was believed to be a personal disciple of the Apostle John.[6] In the early second century, he wrote a letter to the church at Philippi, referencing the book of Ephesians as “Scripture.”[7]

Fact #3: Church Fathers began to compile lists of New Testament books long before any councils met to finalize the canon.

22 of the 27 books of the New Testament were listed in what is called the Muratorian Fragment, dated from about 180 AD. This list includes everything but Hebrews, James, 1 and 2 Peter, and possibly 3 John, indicating that the bulk of the New Testament canon was established at an extraordinarily early date.

The first complete list of the New Testament canon is often attributed to Athanasius, around AD 367, but Dr. Michael Kruger argues that all 27 books were affirmed by church father Origen more than a hundred years before that. This means that most likely by the 3rd century, the complete canon was recognized and in place.

Fact #4: Early Christian manuscripts were intended for public reading.

Manuscripts of the Greco-Roman world were made to be appreciated as works of art and not necessarily to be read in public. However, early Christian manuscripts were unique in that they were made for functionality, not beauty. Compared with their cultural counterparts, they had fewer lines per page, an exceptionally large number of reader’s aids, and spaces between sections—all of which suggests they were meant for public reading.
In the early church, and even going back to the Old Testament synagogues, almost all the writings that were read in public worship services were Biblical books. (For example, 2nd-century Christian apologist Justin Martyr tells us that in church gatherings, portions of the Old Testament and the Gospels would be read, followed by a sermon.[8] This indicates that the scribes who copied the manuscripts believed them to be Scripture and intended them to be used as such.[9]

Fact #5: Early Christians primarily used a codex rather than a scroll.

Centuries before it was broadly employed in Greco-Roman culture, early Christians mainly used a codex (similar to a modern book, bound at the spine) rather than a scroll, which was the primary form of a written document in the ancient world. The switch to the codex was sudden, early, and widespread among Christians. This may indicate the church’s need to combine several books into one volume, which only a codex was able to do. Many scholars believe this supports the idea that a canon was beginning to be established as early as the end of the 1st century.[10]
What did the councils actually do?

The councils that eventually convened to established the canon did just that—they finalized the list of books that were already considered canonical and settled a handful of disputes surrounding the remaining texts. However, the evidence suggests that early Christians had a functioning New Testament core canon long before that.

References

[1] Brevard S. Childs, The New Testament as Canon: An Introduction (SCM, 1984) p. 25

[2] Eusebius, Church History, 3.25.1-2

[3] Ibid., 3:25.3

[4] Ibid., 3.25.4

[5] Ibid., 3.25.6

[6] Tertullian, The Prescription Against Heretics, 32.2; Iranaeus, Against Heresies, 3.3

[7] Polycarp, Epistle to the Phillipians, 12.1

[8] Justin Martyr, The First Apology of Justin, LXVII

[9] Michael J. Kruger, “The Origin and Authority of the New Testament Canon,” Reformed Theological Seminary, 4 August 2016, Lecture #20 (Kruger also notes in his article Were Early Christian Scribes Untrained Amateurs? that this fact is well supported by a number of modern scholars.)

[10] Andreas J. Kostenberger & Michael J. Kruger, The Heresy of Orthodoxy (Crossway, 2010) p. 194-195

Tag Archive for: New Testament

Undesigned Coincidences Relating to the Feeding of the Five Thousand

Other Markers of Verisimilitude

Reconcilable Variations

Other Marks of Independence

Conclusion

Footnotes

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Fact #1: Early Christians differentiated between canonical and non-canonical books.

Fact #2: Certain New Testament writings were cited as Scripture not long after they were penned.

Fact #3: Church Fathers began to compile lists of New Testament books long before any councils met to finalize the canon.

Fact #4: Early Christian manuscripts were intended for public reading.

Fact #5: Early Christians primarily used a codex rather than a scroll.

References

Recommended resources related to the topic:

1. The Historian

2. The Atheist

4. The Theologian

5. The Ex-con

References: