“Then he sent forth a dove from him, to see if the waters had subsided from the face of the ground.” (Genesis 8:8)
The dove, a beautiful bird with a lovely cooing sound is one of God’s creatures that has many symbols. We find many of them in the Bible.
Let us learn a little bit about the nature of doves. Doves, turtle doves (a dainty dove), and pigeons (larger in size) are from the order Columbiformes family of birds. A dove’s eyes are on the sides of their head, having a 340° vision. They can see in front and in back at the same time. This is necessary for an animal of prey to watch out for predators.
Doves can fly up to speeds of fifty-five mph.
Doves will only descend when they know it is safe and trust where it will land. Once a dove starts its descent, it doesn’t have the ability to go in reverse.
We first read of the dove in Genesis 8:9. After Noah sent out a raven, he sent out a dove. It flew to and fro, then came back after no place to land. Seven days went by, and Noah sent the dove out again. This time by evening the dove brought back an olive branch. This is where the symbol of hope, peace, and a new beginning came from.
In the gospel accounts we read that the Holy Spirit descended as a dove when Jesus was baptized.
“The heavens were opened to him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and coming to rest on him” (Matthew 3:16b; cf. Mark 1:10, Luke 3:22, John 1:32).
When Jesus was baptized the Holy Spirit came down and rested upon Jesus to stay. Just as when we are baptized, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, there is trust. And I say, “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest” (Psalm 55:6). A symbol of peace.
“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” (Luke 2:7 ESV).
This time of year there are Christmas songs playing on the radio and carolers going about. A few years ago on the school bus, I drove as the children would sang Christmas songs also. One song was, “Away in a Manger.” That brought back memories of learning this song in Bible class when I was small. I’m not sure if it was sung around this time of year or not but it is a wonderful song.
If it wasn’t for Jesus being born then who would be the one to die for our sins? God gave his only begotten Son (John 3:16) so he could die for us on the cross.
The mother of Jesus was Mary, another very important person in this event. She was chosen by God and was visited by the angel Gabriel who told her she was going to have a son.
The scriptures tell us Jesus was laid in a manger because there was no place in the inn. Inn also means a lodging place. We do not know where he was born. It could have been the lower quarters of a dwelling or a stable. The place of his birth is not important.
The main significance was the manger. An angel of the Lord appeared to Shepherds who were tending sheep saying,
“And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger” (Luke 2:12).
Swaddling clothes were not the main significance.
The sign was the manger, a feeding trough where animals eat from. “And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger” (Luke 2:16). God took the lowliest manner of life to lay his Son’s head on, a manger, an animal feeding trough. He the Son of God, the King of kings did not lay in a crib like royalty.
As soon as the angel told the Shepherds the heavens opened up with praise,
“Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest!” (Luke 2:13–14).
What a glorious time, Christ the Savior humbled himself from Manger to Cross.
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are four stories about Jesus that offer four broad perspectives from which they tell specific stories with a “powerful realism” about his ministry, teaching, healings, rejection, crucifixion, and resurrection.[1] This much is very clear. Questions emerge about the genre, historicity, chronology, stages of oral transmission, and history of literary dependence (e.g., “did Matthew and Luke rely on Mark?”), but at the heart of what the gospels are is Jesus and the stories told about him.
I have been reading and studying the four gospels for about a quarter-century, first, as a young Christian, then in my on and off again academic pursuits, and as a local preacher. During this time I’ve arrived at some important conclusions about them:
The genre of “gospel” is historical narratives comparable to the Greco-Roman bios.
The gospels are a blend of theology and history.
This blend of theology and history does not undermine their historical reliability.
The gospels provide a holistic view of Jesus, we cannot pick and chose what is the “authentic” Jesus.
But there was a time I was unaware of Rudolf Bultmann’s (1884–1976) demythologizing existential approach to redefining the meaning of the supernatural elements from the Gospels, and other approaches birthed by liberalism and modernism to reading them. It was a time when I was oblivious of the historical/grammatical-critical approach to studying them with the tools of form criticism, oral-tradition criticism, literary criticism, and so on. I’ve benefited deeply from the types of questions they raise and the kinds of answers they seek to provide.
This essay is not about this process, however. Instead, I am sharing what I can recall from my experience of reading the Gospels as “a knucklehead from the streets” searching for God. I want to share this personal journey while I can still remember how reading the gospel lead me to find God in Jesus Christ and how Jesus’ life and teachings made me want to follow him.
My Background
Here are my “credentials” for the spring of 1996 when I was seventeen: A high school dropout, a three-year freshman, most days starting with cutting school, drinking, smoking weed, and roaming the parks or streets (in that order). In the columns for attendance and absences on my report cards, my poor mom thought they made an error because the numbers looked swapped.
Then there was my street life in a gang. Street fights and violence, jumping over backyard fences running from the police (and dogs), plotting to hurt “heads” from other gangs, all-nighters, drug use, sex, and on and on it went. I am not proud of it, but I ran with my homies and we were “tighter than a glove,” I had my “street-cred,” I earned my stripes, and many can vouch for that.[2] They called me, “Gorilla.”
I grew up in Roman Catholicism. I was christened as a baby at St. Charles on South Van Ness in the Mission District of San Francisco, CA. Although my family is from the Mission, my Abuela brokered a deal so I could attend an Irish Catholic parochial K-8 school in Noe Valley. I wish I could tell you anything I learned in religion class to help me read scripture but I can’t. I can say, the rituals really stuck. I was an altar boy. I know the “Our Father,” the “doxology,” the two “Hail Marys,” parts of the Catholic Apostle’s Creed, and I can genuflect with the best of them. I did my confirmation. I prayed my penance prayers after confession.
I do not however recall ever being taught how to read Scripture, that was the priest’s job. So when I started reading the Bible years after leaving the Roman Catholic Church following 8th grade and diving right into drug use that summer with acid, I had no strategies to work with except my basic education and common sense. I was seventeen years old, getting sober, and walking away from vice and violence. I cried out to God in prayer on the corner of 24th and Mission Streets: “I don’t know how to do this, but I’m going to look for you…. Can you meet me halfway?”
Things did not immediately change for me outside of me stepping away from the streets until one night I went out with my boys. While I was scrambling to get my outfit right, I looked under my bed to find my shoes: Air Griffey Max 1. Behind my shoes, under my bed, was a small Gideon New Testament I had no idea was sitting there amidst the dust and trash. I took the discovery as God prodding me, in effect saying, “I just did my part, now you do your part and start reading it.” I grabbed it. Looked at it with a smirk. Looked upwards and said, “Okay, God, I’ll start reading it.”
I started reading the Gospels and after a few months of reading the stories about Jesus, in December 1996, just after Christmas, I gave my life to Jesus and submitted to baptism in an outdoor hot tub (to learn more read: “Leaving a Street Gang for Jesus“). Up to this point, I had not entered a church, I had not participated in any evangelistic study material outside of some creepy Jack T. Chick (1924–2016) “Gospel” Tracts. I simply read the Gospels and they were sufficient to guide me to obey God.
So here are some things I recall from this several-month journey as a street gang knucklehead,[3] with an eighth-grade education, working through a period of “getting clean.”
Reading the Gospels at Face Value
Let me be clear, I have always been a believer even when I left God and did my thing. If I ever was going to return to religion it was either going to be Christianity (starting point) or Islam (due to some of my closest Egyptian, Palestinian, and Persian friendships at the time). If God exists, then the miraculous is possible. When I read Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, then, I believed the miracles contained in them were possible. I read them at face value.
Today, naturalism may be how many more approach a book like the Bible. For them, the door is closed to anything miraculous in the literal sense (i.e., the blind will never see, the cripple will never walk, demons are not exorcized, water is not turned to wine, the resurrection of a corpse does not happen). I did not approach the Gospels with this assumption. How could I, I called on God to find me!
Today, I recognize such an approach may be called a supernatural naivete (superstitious), but after studying worldview, the logical consequences of naturalism/materialism on ethics and morality, and dealing with the dismal outlook of living in an indifferent universe, keeping the door open to the possibility of the miraculous continues to make the most sense of the evidence in this world.[4]
Today, having worked through issues surrounding the critical study of the Scriptures, along with its anti-supernatural biases, its “mythology” and de-historicizing its narratives, it is clear that such a folklore Jesus would be a dead end. If the Jesus of the gospels does not exist then there are plenty of other historical fictional, or sci-fi, figures of virtue on their own “hero’s journey” I can enjoy instead. A fictional gospel reveals a powerless Jesus.
I believed God was working through Jesus in reality, and it led me to believe that his power could be applied to my own life in some healing way.
Jesus was Compassionate and Morally Firm
I had never read the gospels. I grew up on liturgy and tradition. Liturgy and tradition can be helpful as a tool for theological reinforcement, but it has significant limitations. For the most part, I just “knew”–as best I could know–Jesus loved me and died for me. But why, and why the cross? And is this what Christianity is all about, the story of an executed man? What about this has to do with me? And what would I learn about Jesus?
Again, I was, in the words of Ben Witherington, III, living a “Jesus haunted and biblically illiterate” life.[5] At the time, Jesus was the guy that died for me. I grew up reciting the “Stations of the Cross” every year in Mass. These 14 liturgical meditations commemorate the condemnation, death, and burial of Jesus (though I distinctly remember meditations of his resurrection).
So, I opened up that little New Testament with the small print to see where it would lead me.
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was however truly surprised by the Jesus I was reading about. He drew me in. I was slightly expecting Jesus to be like the street preachers on my block. Those “bullhorn guys” yelling at the top of their lungs, telling us all that we are sinners, that we are all under the judgment of God, that regardless if you were eating donuts, McDonald’s, a burrito, going to the market, or selling weed, it didn’t matter because God hated us until we repented.
That is not at all what I found!
The Jesus of the gospels did not shy away from pointing to sin in people’s lives, but when he did so you knew he cared about you, you knew he had spent days with the sick to heal them, with the crippled making them walk, with the demon-oppressed liberating them of these evil spirits. He spent time with the kind of people the “really religious” types pushed aside, like the prostitutes and tax-collectors who wanted God.
In one instance, a woman from the city, known as a “sinner” (she likely had a bad reputation as a violator of the law of Moses), came to Jesus to show gratitude because he had forgiven her of her sins (Luke 7:47–48). The Pharisee who hosted Jesus in his home for dinner when this happened, reacted: “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner” (Luke 7:39). She was undesirable, not to be engaged. Jesus however acknowledged her morally troubled past, accepted her, and forgave her of her sins.
Like a protector walking among his people, Jesus offered those that would listen to him a better way of life.
Again, Jesus healed a man who could not walk and had been that way for thirty-eight years (John 5:1–9). Later He ran into him when the man was under scrutiny by some Jews because it happened on the Sabbath. “Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, ‘See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you’ ” (John 5:14 ESV). Jesus heals the man, helps the man, forgives the man (implied), but is morally firm: sin no more.
I really needed and wanted a guide out of all the darkness and evil I was in. I knew I had dug a deeply immoral hole. I said to myself, “Jesus has gotta know my situation… and he knows what it’s going to take to get out of it.”
Meeting Jesus in the Gospels was a real turning point for me. I was moved. Reading that Jesus was the type of person that got to know you, your life, your darkness, and was not afraid to touch it as he embraced you, and then led you out of the sin in your life so you can live a liberated life before God. He was compassionate and morally firm.
Jesus’ Inspiring Inner Strength
The 1990s rap scene was flooded with “gangsta rap.” It was not the only form of rap, but like the “consciousness” of hip hop, this movement provided a peek into the mind and mental of street life. It spoke to what many of us were living through to different degrees. In 1995, the Westcoast hip-hop artist Coolio released the massively successful commercial single, “Gangsta’s Paradise” the theme song for the film, Dangerous Minds (Buena Vista Pictures). I recall me and my homies could not get enough of it. In fact, I called the hip hop station 106.1 KMEL on the request line just to hear it again. It was “the jam.”
It was more than just music, it was a mirror of our experiences. I say that because Coolio says what we all understood about respect in the street. Respect and honor were set on a hairpin trigger. When Coolio dropped this line, it was “gospel”:
But I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it Me be treated like a punk, you know that’s unheard of You better watch how you talkin’ and where you walkin’ Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk
Coolio, “Gangsta’s Paradise”
This was not mere poetry this was street truth. Outside of joking around, you don’t cross your boys or disrespect people. Did it happen? Sure, but there were consequences.
So when I read the gospels, I brought this attitude with me. Call it machismo, call it pride, call it hubris. Somebody hurts your kin, the next time you see that person you confront them, punk them (embarrass them), and flex your muscle.
I was impressed with Jesus. When he interacted with the religious leaders of his day–the Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees–who constantly poked at his school, his teaching, his methods, and his compassion, I stood amazed at how he handled these tests with an inner strength of truth and grace.
I definitely rallied behind him when Jesus flipped over the moneychangers’ tables at the temple, they had turned the place into a “den of robbers.” That language made sense to me. But Jesus was mild compared to what power he clearly had.
And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold access to God, saying to them, “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a den of robbers.” (Luke 19:45–46)
He made a statement. He didn’t end them. That’s the difference.
But for every other challenge, every criticism, every rejection, every attempt on his life, every time Jesus was made out to be crazy, a fraud, a violator of the Scripture, or liable as an ally of Satan, Jesus responded with words to clarify, words to unite, words bluntly stating the obvious, and words that demonstrate the faulty logic, scriptural inconsistency, or the like.
Basically, Jesus was full of zeal but kept his cool nonetheless (John 2:17).
Consider the fact that the gospels report that Jesus could walk on water, make water into wine, give people their sight back, restore the skin of leprosy, and revive the dead.
A man with that kind of power could be tempted to abuse it, but as the temptation in the desert points out, Jesus’ power did not outpace his character (Matt 4:1–11; Mark 1:12–13; Luke 4:1–12). When Jesus was rejected by the Samaritans, he rebuked his disciples for suggesting he retaliate with fire from the sky.
And when his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. And they went on to another village. (Luke 9:54–56)
Jesus showed strength in order to protect people, in order to speak truth to error, and authenticity to hypocrisy. I was captivated by his ability to hold it together when he was betrayed by Judas, when he was lied about in his Jewish “trial” before Caiaphas, when he was publically humiliated by the Romans, publically rejected by the Jewish mob with their frenzied chant, “crucify him, crucify him.” Jesus clearly stated he had the power and authority to be delivered by an overwhelming show of heavenly force (John 18:1–19:16a), but he did not.
I stood in awe at Jesus’ character. Jesus was dismissed by those who knew the Scriptures until the only way they thought they could silence him was to kill him. Here’s the part that really put this strength in context: Jesus predicted his betrayal, his rejection, and his death. John foreshadowed this in his prologue: “He [Jesus] came to his own, and his own people did not receive him” (1:12). He walked right into the fire.
I never heard of anyone who lived like that. Jesus was street-level “hard” (tough) in a way I had never seen. Jesus’ inner strength told me I could trust him. That’s the point.
In describing Abraham Lincoln, Robert G. Ingersol (1833–1899), was recorded in Wisconsin State Journal (16 January 1883) saying,
If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power. Any man can stand adversity — only a great man can stand prosperity. It is the glory of Abraham Lincoln that he never abused power only on the side of mercy. [Applause]. He was a perfectly honest man. When he had power, he used it in mercy.[6]
Robert Ingersol, Wisconsin State Journal (1883)
Whether that was always true of Abraham Lincoln, I’ll never know. But I trusted what I saw in Jesus’ use of power and in the realism of the stories of the gospels. I needed to trust him. I grew to trust him. I trust him still. And in the quarter-century of serving him, he has done no wrong.
Spending Time with Nobodies
In the 1991 urban drama, Boyz n the Hood (Columbia Pictures), director and writer John Singleton (1968–2019) presented a raw depiction of urban violence, racism, and gang culture as the backdrop for the coming of age stories of a group of childhood friends, notably two brothers (“Doughboy” and Ricky) and their close friend Tre. The impact of drugs and violence on the black community of South Central Los Angeles is seen as we follow these friends who grow up fast to survive–only to become victims of their own turbulent world.
After a confrontation between Ricky–a high school football star on track to receive a college scholarship– and a local gangster, the matter escalates into Ricky being gunned down in an alley while coming home from the liquor store. Doughboy and his own crew retaliate that night by killing the gunmen and his posse for killing his brother. In the next scene, the next morning, Doughboy comes out of his home, sells some crack as he crosses the street, and sits with his friend Tre.
In one of the most memorable moments in the film Doughboy says:
Turned on the TV this morning. Had this s— on about how we’re living in a violent world. Showed all these foreign places. How foreigners live and all. I started thinking, man. Either they don’t know… don’t show… or don’t care about what’s going on in the ‘hood. They had all this foreign s—. They didn’t have s— on my brother, man.
“Doughboy” in Boyz n the Hood
Although I was twelve when the movie came out, the movie has the proven realism of its era. What Singleton is voicing through Doughboy is that even though there is violence in the street of our communities, nobody cares about it. It is happening over there, not in our backyard. We put a spotlight on global violence but not in our own communities. We know it happens and the police are doing “something” about it. But it is not worth talking about or getting involved with.
Here’s my point: street life is a very different world. No matter what your starting point is, once you commit to it you live a life on the fringe. The police are not your friends. You can easily lose trust with your own people. You’re the boogeyman parents warn their kids about, “come home soon so nothing happens to you.” You are the reason they need to be careful.
For example, one day I was detained with a group of “us” by the San Francisco Police Department on 24th Street. Officer Callejas who put the twist on me was the father of a childhood friend. A bunch of us were thrown into a “patty wagon,” taken to the Mission station on Valencia Street. You really get a sense of how you are thought of in situations like this. Any mistreatment was seemingly justifiable because we were thugs who likely assaulted a little boy for his shoes. No one really cares when you are a thug. I get why, but it is still the truth.[7] We were probably guilty of something and the pain was just part of the business of the street: we felt like nobodies cause we were treated like nobodies.
Liberal New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan (1934–) once described the “kingdom of God” Jesus focuses on as “a kingdom of nuisances and nobodies.”[8] That description really gets the point across. Crossan points to the fact Jesus spends a lot of time with the kinds of people the “clean” religious people would not associate with. The tax-collectors, the prostitutes, the sinners, the Gentile-tainted, the Samaritan, the lepers, the poor, etc., are all the kinds of people Jesus spend time with at the expense of criticism. This really spoke to me.
German theologian, Helmut Thielicke (1908–1986), really puts into words what I saw in Jesus:
[A]n ineffable love radiated from him, a love that quite obviously attracted from their usual haunts the very people whom nobody else cared for: people with loathsome, repulsive diseases, sinners who cowered before the contempt of society, the dejected and dismayed who normally concealed their misery from the eyes of others.[9]
Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father (1959)
Reading how Jesus ate with sinners just made me think that there was hope that he would share a seat with me at the dinner table. That he would come to my house and eat with me and my friends. Jesus put to those that criticized him for eating with sinners. He said,
Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick.I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. (Luke 5:31–32)
Would Jesus visit with me so he could heal me? I believed he would. He did. He continues to do so.
I am always amazed at the power of grace that allows us to be “other than we are.” God’s grace and forgiveness have empowered me to live a different life. No story Jesus told tells it better than the parable of the two sons:
“What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went. And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him. And even when you saw it, you did not afterward change your minds and believe him. (Matt 21:28–32)
Fringe people have an opportunity to be at the heart of what Jesus does. I wanted that.
Jesus Taught about Loving People
Sometimes I would leave the Mission and go with some of my fellas to the Tenderloin District of San Francisco at night. We had a friend with a car and we had a friend with a shop out there. The “TL” is a neighborhood district right in the heart of downtown. It’s the part of the city no one wants to get lost in, but so many people do. Legend has it that the name goes back to the largest bribes and police corruption, big cuts. In reality, it’s the home of “outcasts and outlaws, but it has also served as a welcoming home to the downtrodden and out of luck.”[10] It has been that way for a long time.
You always had to be on your guard in the streets but it felt that way even more so in the TL. I got into plenty of fights over misunderstandings. Sometimes you had to “knuckle up” to prove your point. Every now and then, something would happen that would disarm you. One time a parade of prostitutes hurried single-file by me into the back of the pizzeria I was eating at because the police were cracking down outside. That stuff makes you want to lose your appetite. Sadly, I eventually saw a few girls I went to high school with, out there in the TL “walking” the streets.
One situation really struck me. One night I watched a young girl call home to tell her folks that she was not coming back. A pimp had flipped her, she was gonna become of his girls. I can see her standing in a MUNI bust stop phone booth, surrounded by a bunch of guys as she said the following words:
Momma, don’t worry, I’m fine and I’m gonna make a lot of money…. No, tell dad I’m gonna be fine… he’s gonna take care of me, I’m going to be just fine… No, I’m not telling you where I am… he’s gonna take care of me…
Jane Doe calling home
“No, girl,” I said to myself, “No, he’s not.” You learn to get cold to things like this. I didn’t want to get played but if someone else did, that was on them. This moment, though, would eventually make me really question what it is I was becoming. One thing was certain, I was losing my humanity piece by piece I just did not know it yet.
So when I asked God to find me, and I started reading the Gospels, I learned that Jesus was all about loving his neighbor. What surprised me the most, and continues to be the challenge, is how Jesus applies the “love your neighbor” ethic. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus said:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matt 5:43–48)
When Jesus applies Leviticus 19:18 (“you shall love your neighbor as yourself”) to life, he said my neighbor was not just people I know but even people I hate, and people that hate me. That was a bitter pill to swallow. Looking back, even now, I have learned that this love even protects the vulnerable people in society (the poor, the blind, the deaf; cf. Lev 19:13–14). In a world where hate and anger were the fuel that drove my choices, I thought about how different my choices were going to have to be. I realized that I could not follow Jesus and stay in the gang, that I could not be in a “me vs. them” world. Most of the time I did not even know who the people I hated were.
I was starting to see that the world could be different. That I could be different. God was good to me despite all the things I had done. He gave me the sun, the rain, the wind and rain, different escapes from certain death, and my close trusted cholos over Frisco. I did not know it then, but I had just opened my heart to a very different way of living. Of all the things that changed my life nothing so drastically changed it as learning to love my enemies, people who hurt me, people I had come to hate, and learning to have grief and shame for the joy I got out of hurting people.
Here’s another significant point, Jesus was not teaching some kind of fluffy love. It is a rugged love. It is a love that is independent of what others do. We wait for people to love us and never hurt us, in order for us to love them back. That’s not the kind of love Jesus talks about. We treat people with love even when it might cause hatred, persecution, or attempts on your life. Jesus went through all of that when he lived out God’s love by dying on the cross for all humanity.
That type of love motivated me to learn to forgive those who hurt me, molested me, abandoned me, fought me, or betrayed me; positively, I learned to feed hungry people, give money to needy people, to care for those that struggle, treat people with kindness and patience. Most importantly, I learned to forgive and love myself. Remember, Jesus said the second great commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matt 22:39)–as yourself, as myself. It was a new day in my life when I received Jesus’ words to love my neighbor.
Jesus inspired me to look at loving others in such a way that challenged what it means to love, who are the others and even to love myself.
Ready for the Next Step
Reading the Gospels lead me to take the next step to follow Jesus. While I no longer remember how each Gospel spoke to me, I remember the example of Jesus already making a big impression on me. I also began to see how it affected other people when I quoted Jesus or imitated Jesus, often without even telling them I was. A homeless lady on the BART even asked me, “are you a Christian?”[11] I didn’t even know what that meant. She had to tell me: someone who follows Jesus. I was that “unchurched.”
Still, I was still wrestling with drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed, and I was building my fortitude against sleeping with anyone. Over the months of reading the Gospels, I desired but I didn’t exactly know what the next step was. After all, I had not entered a church during this time. There was no preacher or evangelistic crusade that was guiding my journey. It was quite literally, me and the Gospels, and me and my demons.
I remember talking to Mormon missionaries at this time and they said, “Cry out to God for an audible answer that the Book of Mormon was true, and you will hear him.” I spent many nights crying out to God in tears, scared that I was so close but so far. Never heard a voice. I remember receiving a bunch of creepy Chick tracts that told me to give my heart to the Lordship of Jesus or I would be roasted by Satan in Hell. I wandered into books and advice from outsiders.
My big brother, however, brought me back to the Gospels. “Have you read the Gospels?,” he asked. “Yes,” I responded. “What does Jesus tell his disciples when he sends them out at the end of Matthew?” I opened the text and it was right there:
Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 16–20)
That told me everything I needed to know and do next. I knew I wanted to be a disciple, this text told me how. I knew I wanted to submit to the Lordship of Jesus, this text told me how. I knew I wanted to keep having a relationship with Jesus even though he was not “here” anymore, this text showed me he was still with us. And I wanted to still study under Jesus, and he showed me that it was in the teaching of the disciples. So, I knew I would have to change my life and I made that commitment in a personal hot tub a few days after Christmas in December 1996. The “Gorilla” was “gone” and Jovan was reborn.
Endnotes
See Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Academic Books, 1984), 132. I highly recommend Craig Blomberg, The Historical Reliability of the Gospels, 2nd ed. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2007).
As you may see in this essay, rap lyrics speak for me at times and so it is here. In Eazy-E’s comeback response album, It’s On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa (Woodland Hills, CA: Ruthless, 1993), to Dr. Dre’s The Chronic album (Beverly Hills, CA: Death Row Records, 1991), the song “Real Muthaphukkin G’s” features Dresta who says, “I did dirt, put in work, and many n—- can vouch that; So since I got stripes, I got the right to rap about [gangsta life].” I wasn’t the worst thug out there, and I can only speak for myself, but I did my thing.
I use the “knucklehead” phrase because that’s what Mr. Cee from the RBL Posse said in his rap rhyme: “I’m just a knucklehead from the streets, All I want is a mic and some of that funky a– beat” (“A Part of Survival,” A Lesson to be Learned [Oakland, CA: In a Minute Records, 1992]).
One should read the opening chapter of William Lane Craig’s The Son Rises: The Historical Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus (1981; repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2000). Consistently, atheist Richard Dawkins wrote, “…if the universe were just electrons and selfish genes, meaningless tragedies like the crashing of this bus are exactly what we should expect, along with equally meaningless good fortune. Such a universe would be neither evil nor good in intention. It would manifest no intentions of any kind. In a universe of blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won’t find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference… DNA neither knows nor cares. DNA just is. And we dance to its music” (River Out of Eden: A Darwinian View of Life [New York: Basic Books, 1995], 132–33; bold added).
The actual quote is, “In America we live in a Jesus-haunted culture that is biblically illiterate. Jesus is a household name, and yet only a distinct minority of Americans have studied an English translation of the original documents that tell us about Jesus, much less read them in the original Greek. In this sort of environment, almost any wild theory about Jesus or his earliest followers can pass for knowledge with some audiences, because so few people actually know the primary sources, the relevant texts, or the historical context with which we should be concerned” (What Have They Done With Jesus? Beyond Strange Theories and Bad History–Why We Can Trust the Bible [New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006]).
I can only think of one organization that was brash enough to try to disrupt our comfort with street life, and that was RAP. Unfortunately, there were not a lot of encounters.
John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (New York: HarperCollins, 1994), 61–84. While I am critical of many of Crossan’s proposals about the historical Jesus and his trance and mythic theory of the resurrection appearances of Jesus, he rings true here. See my, “Did Paul Hallucinate the Resurrection?“
Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father: Sermons on the Parables of Jesus, trans. John W. Doberstein (New York: Harper, 1959), 159.
BART stands for the Bay Area Rapid Transit system. It was a subway/train system that connects various cities in the San Francisco/Oakland/East Bay/North Bay areas.
There are always those who jump at any opportunity to disparage the character of the Son of God. They pursue any apparent inconsistency and press it beyond anything resembling its biblical and original intent.
Such is the case with Jesus’s words in Luke 14:26. The passage reads:
If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26 ESV; emph. added)
An antagonistic critic of Jesus declared that these words makes Jesus a “cult leader” bent of intimidating his followers.
At first glance, the words are troublesome and it would be disingenuous to deny that the passage is disturbing. Nevertheless, the problem is skin deep, and is part of a larger flow of thought in which the Lord emphasizes the principle of focused commitment (Luke 14:28–32).
I will unpack this in two basic steps. First, I look at the context of the passage in the Gospel of Luke to see its big picture theme. Second, I show the term translated “hate” (miséō) has a broad spectrum of meaning and reflects a cultural hyperbolic expression of preference.
A Look at Context
In order to appreciate any passage of Scripture its context must be understood. No single verse reveals everything the Bible has to say on a given subject. It is easy to misunderstand a verse when read without getting a handle of the big picture of the passage.
The “big picture” gives us a proper perspective. This saying is found in the context of a dinner party that Jesus attended at the house of “a ruler of the Pharisees” (Luke 14:1). It is part of Jesus’ pilgrimage to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51) where he anticipates his rejection and crucifixion (Luke 9:21–22, 43b–45; 18:31–34).
It would be expected for the traveling rabbi to offer wisdom and instruction. The teaching done at dinner takes up a major part of this journey narrative (14:1–17:10) and provides some of Jesus’ strongest teaching on proper use of one’s life and material blessings for the good of others as members of God’s kingdom (search for the lost sheep, the lost coin; receive the wasteful son; live prudently; live generously, etc.).
Earlier in the dinner scene, inspired by a man with dropsy, Jesus initiated a discussion about the legality of healing on the Sabbath (14:2). Since the Bible experts (i.e., lawyers) and Pharisees “remained silent” Jesus went forward and healed the man (14:4). Jesus then pressed them with a question on compassion:
Which of you, having a son or an ox that has fallen into a well on a Sabbath day, will not immediately pull him out? (Luke 14:5)
Since there was continued silence (“they could not reply to these things”, 14:6), Jesus posed a series of parables to them.
The Parables. Jesus told the parable of honorable seats to the guests that searched for prominent seats at the dinner party to rebuke their sense of self-importance (Luke 14:7–11). He then pressed his host to welcome those who could not repay him, trusting in repayment “at the resurrection of the just” (Luke 14:12–14). This led to the parable of “a great banquet” to which many were “invited,” but these made excuses for why they could not attend. So, “the poor and crippled and blind and lame” were invited to enjoy this banquet instead (Luke 14:15–24).
Clearly, Jesus challenged the hypocrisy of his host and fellow guests as they “dined” while surrounded by the crippled and the poor without so much of a concern for their needs. The rhetorical tool of the parable provided an image-rich narrative designed to teach a spiritual truth in an understandable and comparative way. In this way, he shows that grace of the kingdom of God is not for some future age (Luke 14:15) but an ethic to be practiced in the now.
The host’s table was supposed to be the theater of God’s kingdom. In the end, all they could do was grumble because Jesus ate with sinners (Luke 15:1–2).
The Kingdom of Commitment. The themes of the parables Jesus teaches are initially focused on a disparity between the high society of the Pharisees and scribes with those disenfranchised Jews seeking and needing the grace found in the kingdom of God. The main problem was misplaced loyalties manifested in a dereliction of responsibility.
God seeks those who will hear his invitation to relationship. This parable anticipates the rejection of God on the part of the Jews who delivered Jesus to Pilate, and the global outreach to the gentile world with the Gospel invitation. In connection with this parable, Jesus lays out four “loyalty arguments” (14:26–32):
One must “bear his own cross” and follow him. This phrase foreshadows Jesus’ commitment to God’s redemptive plan to the point of his own execution on a cross. His followers are called to the same level of commitment in the choices they make (14:27).
To build a structure one must first “count the cost” to complete the construction. This statement is parabolic, if not proverbial, illustrating thoughtfulness in commitment. What will following Jesus demand of me? What will be the tradeoffs to commit to the kingdom of God (14:28–30)?
Before entering war one must “sit down first and deliberate.” What are my strength or weakness? Should I act towards war or peace? Jesus illustrates that decisive decisions are based on the awareness of things as they are (14:31–32).
Jesus bookends his sayings with strong words of full total commitment. Jesus speaks of “hating” the closest of human connections (14:26), and “renouncing all” for him (14:33).
Jesus was rebuking the conduct of the Pharisees and scribes at the dinner. They showed no loyalty, commitment, or deliberate reflection to follow through in their service to God, only excuses and self-righteous pretensions. Jesus calls this failure out through hyperbole, an obvious and intentional exaggeration.
Hyperbolic Exaggeration
Jesus, in this setting, is speaking hyperbolically. He was using a common feature that overlaps with our own: exaggeration. Today might say to a long lost friend, “I haven’t seen you in a thousand years!” Or, we may even claim, “I’m so hungry I can eat a horse.” They are not literal statements. Hyperbole is, according to Elena Pasarello, a “grasping beyond what is necessary in order to describe a certain feeling, an experience, or response.”[1] We often forget Jesus speaks with similar conventions and this failure affects how we read Jesus’ words.
Clearly “to hate” is a verb with strong overtones. But whose overtones should we be concerned about? Ours, or that of the ancient setting in which Jesus spoke?
First, the hostile environment provides the right background for the use of hyperbole. Our expectations of hate includes with it ideas of “intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury” or “to feel extreme enmity toward: to regard with active hostility” affect our reading of this text (Merriam-Webster Dictionary). This is not what Jesus had in mind.
In Luke 14:26, the verb miséō is translated “hate” in nearly every major English Bible translation. Greek dictionaries also agree that it corresponds to a spectrum of meaning such as hate, despise, disregard and “be indifferent to” (Matt 6:24; Luke 16:13).[2] Context, however, determines how the term should be translated. In the hostile dinner setting Jesus seeking to awaken the dinner party to their hypocrisy, their indifference to the poor and the outsider. God’s people must be woken up.
Second, Jesus is on record elsewhere in Luke that God’s people should treat their enemies with love. Earlier in Luke 6 Jesus teaches the following:
I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you... 32 If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them... 35 But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. 36 Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful. (Luke 6:27–28, 32, 35–36)
Jesus teaches that God’s people should show a love that is kind toward those who hate them. Whatever miséō means in Luke 14:26 it must be read consistently with Jesus’ other teachings.
Third, Jesus knew, observed and defended the command to “honor your mother and father.” In one of his final encounters on his journey to Jerusalem (Luke 9:51–19:44), Jesus reminds the rich young ruler of this command (Luke 18:20; cf. Matt 19:19: Mark 7:10, 10:19). In Matthew 15:1–20, Jesus defends this command against the subversive traditions and tactics of the Pharisees and scribes:
“And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition? 4 For God commanded, ‘Honor your father and your mother,’ and, ‘Whoever reviles father or mother must surely die.’ 5 But you say, ‘If anyone tells his father or his mother, “What you would have gained from me is given to God,” 6 he need not honor his father.’ So for the sake of your tradition you have made void the word of God. (Matt 15:3–6)
Jesus is calling out the hypocrisy of the traditions of Pharisees and scribes, the very same guild of biblical scholars he is addressing in Luke 14. The non-exaggerated teaching of Jesus legitimately forces us to read Luke 14:26 in a different way. Jesus honored the commandments.
Fourth, parallel sayings of Jesus provide additional clarification evidence. In Matthew 10:37 Jesus provides another lens to understand “hate” in terms of “preference” or deep loyalty:
Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. (Matthew 10:37)
To the Jew this was a very common way to express that one’s loyalty to God was to surpass any human bonds of loyalty.
Another example is found in Matthew 6:24, which highlights a cultural way of expressing ideas of “preference” or “indifference”:
No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despite the other. You cannot serve God and money. (Matthew 6:24 ESV)
This probably explains why the Good News Translation (1992) renders Luke 14:26:
Those who come to me cannot be my disciples unless they love me more than they love father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and themselves as well. (emph. added)
While this is certainly the meaning of Jesus words, the softening of the language robs us of a significant fact. Jesus found value in targeted exaggerations to make a point.
Fifth, the ides of love and preference, or hatred and indifference are also seen in the Old Testament. For example, Jacob loved Rachel more than Leah (Gen 29:30), yet this preference is also stated as “Leah was hated” (Gen. 29.31).
Paul illustrates his affirmation of the justness of God to elect whom he wishes by his election of Jacob over Esau. Jacob elected/preferred over Esau based upon God’s sovereignty (Mal 1:2–3; Rom 9:10–13).
10 And not only so, but also when Rebekah had conceived children by one man, our forefather Isaac, 11 though they were not yet born and had done nothing either good or bad—in order that God’s purpose of election might continue, not because of works but because of him who calls— 12 she was told, “The older will serve the younger.” 13 As it is written, “Jacob I loved, but Esau I hated.”
Finally, in the culture of Jesus notions such as interest, disregard, and indifference are often expressed in terms of “love” and “hate” which do have very limited translations.[3]
On this point, consider the following observation:
[T]he Orientals [Eastern culture], in accordance with their greater excitability, are wont both to feel and to profess love and hate where we Occidentals [Westerners], with our cooler temperament, feel and express nothing more than interest in, or disregard and indifference to a thing.
Joseph H. Thayer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament (1896)[4]
Scholar G. B. Caird observed similarly:
To hate father and mother did not mean on the lips of Jesus what it conveys to the Western reader (cf. Mark 7:9–13). The semitic mind is comfortable only with extremes –light and darkness, truth and falsehood, love and hate– primary colours [sic] with no half-shades of compromise in between.
G. B. Caird, The Gospel of Saint Luke (1963)[5]
Jesus is speaking in an exaggerated hyperbolic fashion to give some shock value to illustrate the kind of deep preferential conviction God’s people must have.
Conclusion
The big picture context of Luke 14:26 demonstrates that Jesus is in the middle of a series of instructive parables focused on proper discipleship in the kingdom of God. They are directed to the host, the guests, and the crowds that joined them. When Jesus speaks to the crowds he outlines the deliberative nature of would-be disciples and should be disciples. These are non-negotiable matters.
The idea of “hate” (miséō) as a cultural hyperbolic expression provides a proper understanding to Jesus’ meaning. Jesus did not violate the mosaic law to honor one’s parents, but he lived it and defended against any corruption by false piety. Instead, Jesus spoke in his own cultural semitic vernacular.
In the final analysis, misguided assaults on the character of Jesus backfire. This should also remind God’s people to take the time to examine the passage adequately.
A few years ago the Barna Group published the results of 2014 survey of “2005 web-based and phone surveys conducted among a representative sample of adults over the age of 18 in each of the 50 United States.”[1] The results showed that while a strong 93% believed Jesus was a historical figure, they held various views of his nature:
43% believed he was “God living among us”
31% believed he was “uniquely called to reveal God’s purpose in the world”
9% he “embodied the best that is possible in each person”
8% he was “a great man and a great teacher, but not divine”
These are the signs of the time. Across generational lines people accept the historicity of Jesus rather than believe he never existed (See my research paper: “Regarding the Divide between the Christ of Faith and the Jesus of History“). The perception that Jesus is God, however, is questioned more by Millennials than their predecessors.
We have to come to grips with the reality that even some “Christians” believe Jesus as only a great teacher, one that should stand at the top of the world’s “Top 10” of most influential religious leaders in human existence. They praise his ethical and moral teachings (e.g. the golden rule) recorded in the Gospels. The New Testament, however, adds a unique dimension to his nature that make it impossible to accept his teachings while at the same time ignore the deity of Jesus Christ affirmed in its pages.
I will look at one historic figure who felt he could separate the ethical teacher, Jesus, from an enfabled supernatural Christ, and then demonstrate that Jesus’ teaching ministry was tightly interwoven with the miraculous.
The Case of Thomas Jefferson
Thomas Jefferson (1743–1826), a “Founding Father” of the United States of America, is an interesting case study. He profoundly shaped the United States as drafter of the Declaration of Independence (1776) and the third President of the United States (1801–1809). And while he was a self-proclaimed “Christian” and even promoted Bible literacy, Jefferson regarded all the miraculous elements in the Gospels as supernatural “rubbish” which must be removed from Jesus’ teaching, as one does “a diamond from the dung heap.”[2]
Jefferson was a theist and often used the language of Natural Theology/Philosophy (i.e., evidence in nature of a Creator-God) when speaking of his belief in God. For example, in the preamble of the Declaration of Independence Jefferson appeals to “Nature’s God,” other times, “Infinite Power, which rules the destinies of the universe,” “overruling providence,” and a “benevolent governor.”
Jefferson did believe that God actively engaged in time, sustaining creation on an ongoing basis; yet, in his rejection of Biblical miracles and belief that natural laws were the language of God, he certainly is deistic.[3]
“Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia: Jefferson’s Religious Beliefs,” Monticello.org
As a product of these tensions, Jefferson was a hybrid rationalistic-deist with a Jesus twist. There is God (without miracles), there is providence (without intervention), and there is the mind God gave humanity to bring about good into the world.
To Jefferson, then, one of the greatest harms that ever happened to Jesus was the corruption of his teaching with the additions of “fabrications… of their own [i.e., disciples’] inventions [of miracles].”[4] This conviction led Jefferson to “edit” the Gospels by cutting out–literally–the teachings, sayings, and discourses of Jesus and then pasting them into his “wee little book.”[5] This project finalized in The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth (1820), today known as, The Jefferson Bible.
Jefferson affirmed that his work was “proof,” as he wrote to Charles Thomson, “that I am a real Christian… a disciple of the doctrines of Jesus.”[6] However,
In neither the eighteenth century nor today would most people consider a person with [his] views a “Christian.”[7]
“Jefferson’s Religious Beliefs,” Monticello.org
Certainly not an orthodox Christian. The problem with Jefferson’s estimation of Jesus as a moral reformer is its inconsistent denial of all the accompanying miraculous elements the Gospels often safeguard interwoven with his mission, nature, and instruction. As I shall illustrate below.
The Authority of the Son of Man
The Gospels reveal that the teaching ministry of Jesus cannot be divorced from their miraculous components without doing damage to our understanding of the nature and mission of Jesus.
The story of the healed paralytic is one of the most touching miracle stories in the Gospels. This miracle in Galilee event is recorded in Matthew (9:1–8), Mark (2:1-12), and Luke (Luke 5:17–26). Jesus had returned to his home in Capernaum, Galilee (Matt 4:13, 9:1; Mark 2:1) where crowds found him once again and flooded the domicile as he was preaching (Mark 2:2). As there was no room, the friends of a certain paralyzed man creatively removed the tiles of the roof so they could drop the man down for healing (Matt 9:2; Mark 2:3–4; Luke 5:18–19). What happened next was a game changer: Jesus doesn’t heal the man, he forgives him (Matt 9:2; Mark 2:5; Luke 5:20).
This episode instructs on the authority and divinity of Jesus. The narrative provides an unexpected conclusion in the first act (forgiveness): forgiveness of the invisible ailments of paralyzed man; after all, they came for healing. This declaration, however, raised the ire of the “scribes and the Pharisees” who were offended at the very idea. This was a blasphemous scandal:
“Who is this who speaks blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?” (Luke 5:21 ESV; Mark 2:6–7; Matt 9:3)
Jesus had committed a spiritual offense of highest magnitude in the eyes of the “scribes and Pharisees.” By declaring forgiveness he claimed a Divine prerogative to forgive sins (Exod 10:17, 32:31-33, Jer 31:34). Remember, for the scribes and the Pharisees Jesus was just a freelancing rabbi, nothing more than a Jewish man.
In the second act (miracle), Jesus called out their inner monologue regarding his sacrilege (Matt 9:4; Mark 2:8; Luke 5:22), and then raised the stakes. Jesus has entered into the spiritual “kill box” of Jewish orthodoxy: a human cannot forgive sins, only God does that; a human cannot claim deity or Divine prerogative, to make the claim is to blaspheme. Jesus then utters an “either…or” challenge like the prophet Elijah against the prophets of Baal (1 Kings 18:20–40).
“Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven you,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’?” (Luke 5:23)
The rhetorical question answers itself. If he can do the “harder” thing that requires an empirical/visible demonstration (“rise and walk”), then he can do the “invisible thing” which is to forgive sins. The entire ethical validity of Jesus’ teaching depends on this challenge. In a public demonstration Jesus tells the paralyzed man:
“I say to you, rise, pick up your bed and go home.” (Luke 5:24)
The miracle was immediate (Luke 5:25), the crowd was amazed (Luke 5:26), and the scribes and the Pharisees received an answer they would never forget – Jesus of Nazareth possesses both the ability and right to forgive sins!
Therefore, in this instance, Jesus exercises his privileges showcasing his God-nature. In the third act (reaction), the people respond with:
“We have seen extraordinary things today.” (Luke 5:26; Mark 2:10; Matt 9:8)
This miracle shows just how impossible it is to sever the miraculous from Jesus’ teaching ministry. Jesus taught and preached on moral excellence, this much is true, but he acted clearly as one who is more than human. As John says it, Jesus is “the word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). The New Testament documents, if they are going to be read properly, must be read on their terms not what we think has happened to the text.
Lunatic, Liar, Lord… Legend?
We conclude this piece with a challenge from C. S. Lewis (1898–1963) in his work, Mere Christianity. Lewis goes into considerable length in calling attention to a problem of viewing Jesus as “a great moral teacher” and rejecting “His claim to be God.” As Lewis sees it:
A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said [in his teaching and about himself] would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic – on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg – or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising [sic] nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that [option] open to us. He did not intend to.[8]
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (Macmillan)
Lewis offers three basic options when it comes to Jesus: He is either (1) a lunatic, (2) a liar, or (3) the very Lord and God revealed in the documents of the New Testament. In Jesus’ words, he affirms his own claim: “unless you believe that I am he you will die in your sins” (John 8:24).
Jefferson, and many who follow in his footsteps, however, would suggest at least a fourth option about the Jesus of the New Testament: (4) legend. If the disciples embellished his divine nature, then, why not embellish his teaching ministry, his compassion, or for that matter his ethics? I wish to press this clearly, one must receive Jesus en toto–that is, completely (miracles and all)–for to accept him partially (only a moral teacher) is to have no Jesus at all.
The strong reliability of the transmission of the New Testament demonstrates that the miraculous elements of the Gospels are original to their presentation of Jesus, which strengthens the internal eyewitness testimony of the New Testament’s message about the Deity of Jesus. Furthermore, the small interval between the events of Jesus life to written accounts is too brief for legend to so transform the “truth” of the historical Jesus. The legend claim is simply not enough.[9]
A Concluding Plea
The biblical accounts leave the issue clear that Jesus pre-existed before coming to minister on this soil. From the outside, he looked and lived as a human; but, inwardly and also through demonstrations showed himself to be the Divine Word (John 1:1–3).
So what will you do with Jesus? How will you view his teaching? His claims to Divinity? His claim to be your Redeemer? You will make a decision either way and that decision will ripple its effects in the deepest crevices of your life. Give Him one real, genuine inquiry. He will not disappoint you.
As for me, I will serve Jesus, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28). May the Lord bless you in your quest to learn about Jesus and his message, and the salvation that he alone can offer.
“Thomas Jefferson to Charles Thomson, 9 January 1816.”
“Jefferson’s Religious Beliefs.”
C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (repr., New York: Macmillan, 2001), 53.
To read a succinct argument in support of these statements, read John Warwick Montgomery, History, Law, and Christianity (1964; repr., Irvine, CA: NRP Books, 2014), 3–44.
Reprinted with permission from the June 2018 issue of Gospel AdvocateMagazine. Slightly revised edition.
I am not a fan of church politics, but I know they exist. Sometimes it reminds me of walking through the streets when I was a kid. You always had to have enough “friends” with you; you had to make sure you were stronger than the “other guy” and never get caught walking alone, especially in an alleyway. It saddens me to admit that “brotherhood alleyways” do exist. It appears in the form of the public shaming of preachers or schools; it appears in certain back channels where preachers or churches are undermined every step of the way due to a difference of opinions. In a word, brethren, we get consumed with the actions of others, and we seek to control them. We can’t seem to mind our own business and be about our Father’s business to love our community with the gospel.
It seems appropriate to begin this discussion with a brief look at the conjoined issue of ego. Jesus always found a way to check the egos of His disciples when they interfered with the priorities of the kingdom of God. Three examples from Mark 9–10 are helpful to point this out. In Mark 9:33–37, the Lord had to refocus the whispers and debate among the Twelve regarding who was “great” in the kingdom of God. Greatness is measured by service, not by wielding power (cf. Luke 22:24–28). In Mark 9:38–41, Jesus corrected the disciples’ sense of managerial entitlement when they failed to stop a “nameless” disciple’s ministry. What matters is Jesus’ authority, not that of the disciples.
A little later, in Mark 10:13–16, the disciples impose their opinion on when Jesus was ready to provide ministry. Jesus undoes their harm by demonstrating that the kingdom of God is to be at the disposal of the vulnerable. I would argue that the actions of the disciples probably emerged from a good place, but these moments should remind us that personal ego often gets in our way of manifesting the kingdom of God. I truly believe the church is the place where our egos are supposed to die (Rom 6:1-10), but sadly they often resurrect.
We need to hear afresh the challenge from three letters: Jude, 1 Peter, and 3 John. At the heart of our church politics problems is that we have, at times, misapplied what it means to “contend for the faith” (Jude 3), become meddlers (1 Pet 4:15), and have failed to curb our egos (3 John 9).
Contending for the Faith
Many an article, sermon, blog, and petition have been published under the premise to “contend for the faith” (Jude 3). This is a very honorable goal. But at times the methods we use “to contend” lack Christian substance. The verb “to contend” (epagōnízomai) may be taken to mean, “to contend about a thing, as a combatant”[1] and give some legitimacy to a “war-time” church culture; but the metaphor should be taken in its natural direction. It may refer to “the intense effort” of an athlete to overcome the challenges of a sporting contest.[2] In this case, “to contend” is about self-discipline in the face of exertion, continuing the struggle for the sake of the faith.
Jude is the voice of reason the church needs to hear today. A careful reading of Jude does not support a “Cry ‘Havoc!,’ and let slip the [spiritual] dogs of war” agenda to demoralize and humiliate our brothers when we disagree theologically. In fact, Jesus warned that such tactics would endanger us with the fire of Gehenna (Matt 5:22). Instead, Jude writes that a proper response to the perversion of the gospel and subversion of Christ’s authority (v. 4) is to stay faithful to the content of the faith (v. 3), to trust in God’s Word, to trust the Lord will judge false teachers (vv. 5–9, 14–16), to trust that such people will self-destruct (vv. 10–13) and to maintain a Spirit-centered culture of grace, mercy, love, and redemption within the church (vv. 17–23)—all while affirming a distinction exists between the faithful and the ungodly false teachers and their corruption of the gospel itself (v. 12).
Jude does not shy away from revealing the errors of false teachers and the dangerous consequences that flow from their influence. The effort Jude speaks of is not to be spent on attacking the defectors, but instead, the exertion must be spent within our own souls, within our own congregations. We must resist the temptation to enable an ungodly inhospitable war-time church culture. With precision, Jude makes this little letter a rich description of the inhospitable environment the false teachers created in the church by their influence (vv. 12-13): they hinder love and community, they consume what others need, they withhold what is needed for life, and create a disappointing chaotic and unreliable spiritual incubator for the people of God. That is not what Jesus has called us to be.
Jude does not authorize intrusive efforts to “defend the faith.” Some among us have thought for quite some time that if they publicize an error long enough; generate enough brotherhood support; vilify the names of brethren or institutions; act like church “newscasters,” showing us the cold fronts of error among us; guide us through “connect the dots fellowship”; or act like church “J. Edgar Hoovers,” then we have contended for the faith. We have been so wrong. In truth, Jude’s brief message is bent on moving Christians to “exert effort” in embracing God’s wisdom, God’s sovereignty, and the Christian call to continue to be a fellowship of grace and mercy, love and forgiveness while affirming a distinction between ungodly false teachers and their corruption of the gospel itself (Jude 12). Those are quite different responses.
Jude concludes his letter by saying,
“But you, beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. And have mercy on those who doubt; save others by snatching them out of the fire; to others show mercy with fear, hating even the garment stained by the flesh” (vv. 20–23).
This is the work of contending. Today, we need to learn that many times the best way to deal with false teaching is to focus on the work of our local congregation, be patient with our brethren, and be gracious to those struggling rather than entering into a shouting match, in other words, staying busy with our own work and minding our own business.
Meddlers and Bullies
Meddlers. In 1 Peter, the apostle Peter addresses a number of Christian churches undergoing a forceful front of localized persecution of “shaming” in the northern provinces of Asia Minor (1:1; 2:12; 3:13; 4:4). Peter reminds them to respond to such shame-based threats by providing a kind and respectful verbal response, explaining their hope in Jesus as Lord (3:14–15). He further exhorts them to refrain from “clashes” with the community due to punishable crimes (murder, thievery, evil-doing, meddling; 4:15). Indeed, the only clash that will glorify God is when Christians are unjustly persecution for the name of Christ (4:16).
We need to give thought to Peter’s word, “meddler” (ESV, NIV). It is listed among the four offenses Christians must avoid. English translations show the difficulty of rendering this compound word (allotri + episkopos), the New Revised Standard Version has “mischief-maker”; the New King James Version, “busy-body”; and New American Standard Bible, “troublesome-meddler.” Quite possibly, Peter coined this word because it is found nowhere in Greek literature before him. At the core, the “meddler” is someone who apparently takes or seizes control of the affairs of others. Peter condemns Christians controlling others “tactlessly and without social graces.”[3] Too many times Christians think their duty is to control the choices of our neighbors. I suspect it is because we seek the right outcome of godliness. This, however, becomes a “no win” scenario. The local church is a fertile field for this temptation. Many cultish tactics have been used in the name of “discipling” our brethren. Pulpits are used not only to “persuade men” but to “meddle” in the affairs of our members. Elders cross the line separating overseeing and control. But those with more daring egos can emerge to be “the overseer” of brotherhood affairs with ungodly force and shame to establish control. Peter reminds us to “mind our own business.”
Bullies. In 3 John, the aged apostle John writes to Gaius an embattled faithful Christian leader, who is part of the collateral damage of a church bully named Diotrephes. The church setting was desperate, requiring his own personal touch (vv. 10, 13–14). The issue? False teaching? Nope. The tension was about control over mission work (vv. 5–8). Traveling preachers were part of early church culture. Over a period of time, John had commended several to this church for support, anticipating their needs would be supplied to reach the next leg of their journey. Instead, he found a polarizing church culture had matured, manifesting in Diotrephes and Gaius.
Maybe Diotrephes began this journey with a proper concern for church autonomy in matters of missions or with a desire to serve the church. The only motive explicitly given in this letter is that he “likes to put himself first” and his rejection of apostolic authority (3 John 9). The outcome, however, was wickedness, suppression, and subterfuge. He created an inhospitable and volatile church culture where suspicion reigns and alternative opinions are silenced and ousted (v. 10). It was all a bit like an Orwellian 1984 dystopia. Diotrephes was the “thought police.” He thrust his voice into areas beyond his authority, and in order to do so, he imposed his opinion by force and manipulation.
There is no question that ego became a problem, and behind that lay sin. Diotrephes became a mission-killing church bully because he chose self over the kingdom of God. He chose “preeminence” (KJV, ASV), “to be first” (NET), “to be in charge” (ISV), “to be number one” (Plain English NT), “to have first place” (FHV), “to be first in everything” (Phillips). Third John shows us the damage rendered by elders and preachers who dominate others like an “intolerant general” when something is not done their way. A church bully by any other name would still reek of wickedness. Brethren, we need to humble our pride and “mind our own business.”
Conclusion
I’ll be honest. Sometimes I feel like an outsider, even after being a part of the church for now over twenty years. But I have seen church bulletins as subtle tools for shaming congregational members and even preachers from outside of the congregation. I’ve known preacher friends receiving a copy of a brotherhood “journal” with a post-it note attached as a “friendly” reminder of how “misguided” they are for their views. Brotherhood magazines have been leveraged to do excessive numbers of exposés about this school or that preacher rather than teaching what the Bible says. For what purpose? To establish unity? None of this brings unity; instead, such actions seem designed to permanently polarize. Church, we can, and must, do better (John 13:35). Part of the solution is to be about our “local work” and to “mind our own business” (Romans 14:4).
Endnotes
W. E. Vine, Merrill F. Unger, and William White, Jr., Vine’s Complete Expository Dictionary of Old and Testament Words (Nashville: Nelson, 1985), 2:125.
E. Stauffer, s. v. “agōn,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964), 1:134-40. [In addition: BDAG 356, “The primary semantic component in the use of this verb in Jd 3 is the effort expended by the subject in a noble cause.” It gives “expression” to the Greco-Roman “ideal of dedication.”]
Thomas R. Schreiner, 1, 2 Peter, Jude (Nashville: B&H, 2003), 224-25.
The present study is an inquiry into the interconnected reciprocal nature of patronage in the Greco-Roman imperial social setting, as one background component from the New Testament world. One would be wrong to think that such a social dynamic’s presence was minimal. In actuality, patronage and its vocabulary not only appears specifically in the New Testament (Luke 22:25; Acts 10:38; Rom 16:2; Philm 17-20, Phil 4:14-20, etc), but the social reciprocal dynamics in which its value and cultural powers are also assumed(shame, honor, unity, gratitude, fellowship, etc.). The reader who knows what to look for will see it in numerous contexts shaping the life of the body.[1] Unfortunately, the many elements vital to the matrix of patronage can only be pointed to. Yet, as Bruce J. Malina observes, it was “the most significant form of social interaction in the limited-good world of the first century is an informal principle of reciprocity, a sort of implicit, non-legal contractual obligation, unenforceable by any authority apart from one’s sense of honor and shame.”[2] The challenge in this paper is to briefly and accurately describe it.
In seeking to understand the New Testament accurately, scholars propose various exegetical principles and contextualizing models to accomplish this task.[3] The process here requires an approach which appreciates the cultural background of the New Testament to contextualize its vocabulary. This, Albert A. Bell reminds, is the “crucial part of understanding any written text.”[4] Greco-Roman words have a socially conditioned context that the modern reader may not readily identify. “Without a comprehension of the sociological dynamics of that world, our understanding… is terribly superficial at best and woefully mistaken at worst.”[5] The most crucial need for the reader of the New Testament, then, is to be able to bridge the cultural and time gap between the original (native) context and the reader’s contemporary context. This linguistic and cultural divide can be managed. In advancing a cultural-anthropological reading model, Jerome H. Neyrey argues that one can avoid ethnocentric and anachronistic readings of Paul (and the New Testament) by appreciating the difference between reading him as member of the same culture (an emic reading), and by reading him informed by the analytical and descriptive works of specialists and ethnographers (an etic reading).[6] As one gets closer to this “emic reading,” the modern reader comes closer to better appreciate the symbolic universe of Paul’s and Jesus’ culture.[7] The goal here is to gain a realistic perception from “native informants” which can illustrate and contextualize patronage as a Greco-Roman phenomenon.[8]
The presentation to follow will demonstrate how significant the social form of patronage was in the daily life of the Greco-Roman world, it will outline the vocabulary of patronage in Latin and Greek primary sources, it will sharpen this outline to differentiate between political and social patronage, and then offer a realistic scenarios that can illuminate reading the New Testament in its social and cultural world.
Daily Significance of Patronage
In modern analogy, patronage was like an ancient informal “welfare system.” Social services, like the modern model of the United States, would have been quite foreign. Instead, patronage was a cultural phenomenon in which there was a reciprocal relationship between the upper class and the lower class. It benefited lower classes with protection and patronage by means of reasonable support (legal, financial, medical, marital, etc.) for public support, the running of errands, odd jobs, escorting through streets, and providing social honor in exchange (a return). In exchange for the daily allowance (sportula), the client was at the patron’s call. Thus, it was a form of social investment between patron-client; interestingly, even slaves of wealthy households were known to have clients who hoped the slave could use their influence upon their master.[9] Greco-Roman and Christian scholarship is unequivocal about the daily and social significance of the patron-client network of relationships.[10]
Martial, in his colorful Epigrams, clocks what city life was like in the urbs (4.8.1-4): “The first and second hours wear out clients greeting their patrons.” The imagery evokes the crushing nature of the daily dependence of clients upon their patronus.A step further, Juvenal shows how important this allowance of money was for the everyday professional and collegia with his sarcastic words in the Satires (1.95-126):
For no deity is held in such reverence amongst us as Wealth; though as yet, O baneful money, thou hast no temple of thine own; not yet have we reared altars to Money in like manner as we worship Peace and Honour, Victory and Virtue, or that Concord that clatters when we salute her nest.[11]
This fits the common view that the patron-client phenomena were important to the daily life of every social stratum of the Greco-Roman world. To this point, Jérôme Carcopinodescribes that whether employed or unemployed, freedman or the parasite do-nothing, aristocrats or lower plebeians, clients “were no sooner out of bed than they were in the grip of the duties inseparable from being a ‘client.’ […] there was no man in Rome who did not feel himself bound to someone more powerful above him by the same obligations of respect, or, to use the technical term, the same obsequium.”[12] This honor-bound relationship allowed those in various professions and collegia to survive by means of this small daily “dole as their main source of revenue.”
Patronage in Latin and Greek Sources
Extant Greek and Latin sources (literary and epigraphic) speak of patronage, benefaction, and euergetism (good-doing) from political and social perspectives. Ideas such protection, assistance, help, advocacy, and philanthropy appear. Consider the following samples. It seems that patronage was initially borne out of political power and civic duty, but that distinction apparently broke down over time into a social network between the upper and lower classes in the Greco-Roman world among the rich, the poor, the freedman and freedwoman.[13]
The Roman historian Livy stretches back about four centuries to the early Roman Republic and recounts the story of Cincinnatus, the famed aristocratic plebeian consul, turn poor plebeian farmer, turn dictator, turn savior of Roman (History of Rome 3.26-29). According to Livy, his actions as dictator were reciprocated with honor and status. Livy frames (stylizes?) the response of the army as recognizing “the benefit [beneficii] they had received at his hands,” honored him with a golden crown, and “saluted him as their protector [patronum salutaverit]” (History of Rome 3.29.3). They had become his “clients,” and Cincinnatus would use this social bond to his advantage to “clear” the charges against his son Caeso who was on the run for charges of murder. The protector of Rome, then, returned his powers of dictator and returned to the rustic farm life. Later, when Augustus consolidates his power, Tacitus recounts his use of “gratuities” (donis) among the military and the poor (Annals 1.2). Michael Grant[14] interprets this as Augustus letting “it be understood that the old institution of patrons and clients had been recast, so that henceforward all the people were his own, personal clients, including the poorest citizens.” Thus, as principis Augustus and the emperors after him would portray (politically?) to the citizens of Rome and its subjects a bond of reciprocal loyalty.
Greek sources also illuminate various aspects of patronage. In the fifth century BCE, Sophocles frames the tragic Oedipus as gratefully exchanging protection from Thebes and “help [prostátisi] of the dread goddesses” who reigns in their districts, with obtaining “a great savior [sōtēr’] for this city, and troubles for my enemies” in him (Oedipus at Colunus 455-460). The Apocrypha[15] likewise points to the political upheavals in the Maccabean storyline connected to concepts of patronage. In 2 Maccabees, Simon slanders Onias, who is designated “a plotter against the government the man who was the benefactor [tòn euergétēn] of the city, the protector [tòn kēdemóna] of his compatriots, and a zealot for the laws” (4:2).[16]
In 3 Maccabees 3:13-29, “King Ptolemy Philopater” declares to his “generals and soldiers” that despite his goodwill (philanthrōpía), a desire to do good (eū poiēsaí), and to honor (timēsai) in the Jewish temple (3:15-17), the Jews “manifest ill-will toward us” and are “the only people among all nations who hold their heads high in defiance of kings and their own benefactors [euergétais], and are unwilling to regard any action as sincere” (3:19). The accommodative and benevolent king (philanthrópōs 3:20) declares that such rebellious Jews should be arrested, bound, and deported and that any who harbor them should be severely punished (3:25-29). Eventually, Philopator descends upon the Jews but is subdued by two angels. The king breaks down to pity and tears, and blames and threatens his “friends” (toís phílois): “You are committing treason and surpassing tyrants in cruelty; and even me, your benefactor [euergétēn]” (6:24).
Political and Social Patronage in Rome
In the Greco-Roman world of the first century CE, there appears to be evidence distinguishing between political and social patronage. This can be confusing since sources often use terms like benefactor, euergetes, and patron in the process of discussion. The masculine form of the Greek prostát– (see verbal use above for “help”) is somewhat problematic. It is often considered synonymous with the Latin patronus. Interestingly, the New Testament the feminine form προστάτις is used in Romans 16:2 and translated as patron and benefactor (ESV; NIV, NRSV, HCSB). Erlend D. MacGillivray[17] takes exception to the view that these two forms are completely synonymous. The masculine appears in both Attic Greek and in the Roman Empire and carries both legal and a variety of leadership benefaction roles, but not the feminine form. MacGillivray argues that applying the masculine meaning upon prostátis is exegetically problematic for this reason. Benefaction is in view, but one must distinguish between political patronage from some interpersonal social networking.
MacGillivray argues that understanding prostátis depends, then, upon understanding the fluid nature of ancient Mediterranean reciprocal dynamics, recognizing the patron-client model is far too limiting and misleading. There is a difference between the narrow and nuanced meaning of classical patronage and the broad euergetistic/altruistic benefaction. While epigraphical gratitude evidence shows that prostátis and prostátes imply civic prestige, the nature of the evidence is, however, often weak to force synonymity. Part of the problem stems from the near normative templates in honorary Greco-Roman epigraphs that do not always neatly distinguish between the various kinds of patronage. Thus, the presence of these terms do not prove exclusively a classical patronage/patronus; consequently, MacGillivray’s work argues that prostátis and prostátes are not demonstrably synonymous.
R. A. Kearsley[18] extends this trajectory and explores several first century CE gratitude (honorarium) inscriptions shedding light on the first-century distinction between political and social patronage. These aristocratic women are named, Iunia Theodora and Claudia Metrodora, and are celebrated as female benefactors/patrons who operated in mid-first century CE Asia Minor. The cities of Lycia (Myra, Patara, Tel-messos) recount the influence of Theodora. Theodora apparently had multiple-citizenships, she freely shared her wealth, applied influenced for political and commercial purposes, and is described consistently in benefactor terms (sōphronōs, philolúkios) in Lycia. Such amounts to Theodora functioning as a social benefactor. On the other hand, Metrodora of Chiot Island likewise held multiple-citizenships, did hold political office as magistrate (stephanephoros), which required benefaction toward the people although she surpassed such requirements. She functioned in banquets, directed imperial games, gymnasiarch, public bathhouse donation, basileia in Ionia, and was praised for her public virtue. She was a benefactor as part of holding office.
Realistic Patronage Scenarios for Reading the New Testament
The above illustrations provide insight into the deep and ancient tradition of patronage and how such played out in various settings. There are two passages where patronage vocabulary is explicitly found in the New Testament.
First, in Luke, the political aspect of patronage is evident in Jesus’ counter-intuitive teaching on greatness. Jesus corrects the “greatness debate” among the disciples by saying,
“The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them, and those in authority over them are called benefactors [euergétai]. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves” (22:25-26).
Frederick W. Danker observes, euergétai “served as a title for rulers in Syria and Egypt… In many cases the title would conceal tyranny under extravagant expenditure” (cf. Greek Esther 16:2-3, 13-14).[19] One might argue that Jesus is taking for granted a political euergétai known to abuse such roles, and parts from the fundamental principle of the patron-client relationship: “a service performed or a favor done shall not be transformed into status and honor.”[20] Jesus’ leadership principle, then, is that one serves detached from the demands of reciprocity and the honor and status it brings (cf. Acts 10:38).[21]
Second, in Romans 16:1-2 patronage appears to have a social component. Paul commends Phoebe to the church as “a servant of the church at Cenchreae” and as one who should be helped —reciprocally— “for she has been a patron [prostátis] of many and of myself as well.” Caroline F. Whelan[22] relates this passage to the context of Roman reciprocal social conventions within associations (collegia). Whelan maintains that women not only had the Roman legal standing to operate their wealth independently of guardians, they also functioned as civic patrons for collegia. Secondly, comparable “recommendation” letters reveal two types of reciprocal relationships. There is the superior-inferior recommendation rhetoric, and two, the social-equals recommendation rhetoric; each reflecting in some sense the inherent nature of reciprocity in Rome’s social structure, the matrix of which fuses together the economic and social. Romans 16:1-2, then, points to one of these realistic scenarios. Whelan argues that the patronage between social equals (amica, friends) is probably in view. Phoebe needs Paul’s influence among those addressed in Romans 16 (thus the recommendation), but as “equals” such rhetoric is not for his own social benefit. Instead, it is a gesture of gratitude for her own social activity as a social patron (euergetistic) to the collegia of the church in Cenchrea.
Conclusion
Robert Wilken asserts: “We have a distorted view of the history of early Christianity… The historian of Christianity has given the impression that the rest of the canvas is simply background for the closeup —relegating the general history of the times to an introductory chapter of vague generalities.”[23] Hopefully, this paper provides a closer, native (emic) reading. The smaller the cultural and linguistic gap is, the more accurate the reading. May this paper accomplish its task, to gain realistic perceptions from primary sources which can illustrate and contextualize patronage as an important Greco-Roman imperial phenomenon.
Endnotes
David A. deSilva, “Honor and Shame,” “Patronage,” DNTB 518-22, 766-71; Donald Walker, “Benefactor,” DNTB 157-59; Halvor Moxnes, “Patron-Client Relations and the New Community in Luke-Acts,” in The Social World of Luke-Acts, ed. J. H. Neyrey (1991; repr., Peabody: Hendrickson, 1993), 241-68; Everett Ferguson, Backgrounds of Early Christianity, 3rd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 66-69.
Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World (Louisville: John Knox, 1981), 80.
Ralph P. Martin, “Approaches to New Testament Exegesis,” in New Testament Interpretation, ed. I. Howard Marshall (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977), 220-51.
Albert A. Bell, Jr., Exploring the New Testament World (Nashville: Nelson, 1998), 2.
M. Robert Mulholland, Jr., “Sociological Criticism,” in Interpreting the New Testament, eds. David A. Black and David S. Dockery (Nashville: B&H, 2001), 171.
Jerome H. Neyrey, Paul, In Other Words (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1990), 13.
Neyrey, Paul, 14-17. Neyrey’s distinctions and concerns have value, but he makes a hardline dichotomy between Paul as one who receives supra-cultural insight (i.e., from God) and Paul as a fully incarnated product of his times (18). This distinction ignores Paul’s stated role from God. This is one of Mulholland’s four critiques of this model, it tends to be human-centered, often grounded in dynamic models foreign to the Roman world, imposes the model on the evidence, and lends itself to sociological reductionism (“Sociological Criticism,” 178-80).
David A. deSilva, The Hope of Glory: Honor Discourse and New Testament Interpretation (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1999). The “native informants” are “our best instructors” (xi).
Bell, Exploring the New Testament World, 191-92.
Ferguson, Backgrounds, 67; Florence DuPont, Daily Life in Ancient Rome, trans. C. Woodall (Oxford: Blackwell, 1993); Micahel Grant, A Social History of Greece and Rome (New York: Scribner’s Sons, 1992).
Jérôme Carcopino, Daily Life in Ancient Rome, ed. Henry T. Rowell, trans. E. O. Lorimer (1940; repr., New Haven: Yale University, 1968), 171.
Grant, Social History of Greece and Rome, 30, 54, 70-76, 114-119.
Grant, Social History of Greece and Rome, 75-76.
See also the verbal, and substantival, usages in Wisdom 3:5, 11:5, 13, 16:2, 19:13-14; 2 Macc 8:6; 4 Macc 8:6; Greek Esther 16:2-3 = 8:12c (tōn euergetoúntōn), 13 = 8:12n (euergétēn). Of these sources, Mordecai is framed as sōtēra and euergétēn (cf. God in LXX Psa 12:6, 56:3, 114:7).
Quotations for the Old Testament Apocrypha are taken from New Revised Standard Version of the Holy Bible (Nashville: Nelson, 1989). The Greek text is from Septuaginta (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 1996).
Erlend D. MacGillivray, “Romans 16:2, prostátis/prostátes, and the Application of Reciprocal Relationships to New Testament Texts,” NovT 53 (2011): 183-99.
R. A. Kearsley, “Women in Public Life in the Roman East: Iunia Theodora, Claudia Metrodora and Phoebe, Benefactress of Paul,” TynB 50.2 (1999): 189-211.
Frederick W. Danker, Jesus and the New Age According to St. Luke (St. Louis: Clayton Publishing, 1979), 222.
Moxnes, “Patron-Client Relations,” 261.
Halvor Moxnes, The Economy of the Kingdom (1988; repr., Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2004), 158.
Caroline F. Whelan, “Amica Pauli: The Role of Phoebe in the Early Church,” JSNT 49 (1993): 67-85.
Robert L. Wilken, The Christians as the Romans Saw Them (New Haven: Yale University, 1984), xiv.
Bibliography
Bell, Albert A., Jr. Exploring the New Testament World: An Illustrated Guide to the World of Jesus and the First Christians. Nashville, TN: Nelson, 1998.
Carcopino, Jérôme. Daily Life in Ancient Rome: The People and the City at the Height of the Empire. Edited by Henry T. Rowell. Translated by E. O. Lorimer. 1940. Repr., New Haven, CT: Yale University, 1968.
Danker, Frederick W. Jesus and the New Age According to St. Luke: A Commentary on the Third Gospel. 1972. Repr., St. Louis, MO: Clayton Publishing, 1979.
deSilva, David A. “Honor and Shame.” DNTB. 518-22.
deSilva, David A. The Hope of Glory: Honor Discourse and New Testament Interpretation. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1999.
deSilva, David A. “Patronage” DNTB. 766-71.
DuPont, Florence. Daily Life in Ancient Rome. Translated by Christopher Woodall. Oxford: Blackwell, 1993.
Ferguson, Everett. Backgrounds of Early Christianity. 3rd edition. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2003.
Grant, Michael. A Social History of Greece and Rome. New York, NY: Scribner’s Sons, 1992.
Kearsley, R. A. “Women in Public Life in the Roman East: Iunia Theodora, Claudia Metrodora and Phoebe, Benefactress of Paul.” TynB 50.2 (1999): 189-211.
MacGillivray, Erlend D. “Romans 16:2, prostátis/prostátes, and the Application of Reciprocal Relationships to New Testament Texts.” NovT 53 (2011): 183-99.
Malina, Bruce J. The New Testament World: Insight from Cultural Anthropology. Atlanta, GA: Knox, 1981.
Moxnes, Halvor. The Economy of the Kingdom: Social Conflict and Economic Relations in Luke’s Gospel. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 1988. Repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2004.
——-. “Patron-Client Relations and the New Community in Luke-Acts.” Pages 241-68 in The Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation. Edited by Jerome H. Neyrey. 1991. Repr., Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1993.
Mulholland, M. Robert, Jr. “Sociological Criticism.” Pages 170-86 in Interpreting the New Testament: Essays on Methods and Issues. Edited by David Alan Black and David S. Dockery. Nashville, TN: B&H, 2001.
Neyrey, Jerome H. Paul, In Other Words: A Cultural Reading of His Letters. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 1990.
Walker, Donald D. “Benefactor.” DNTB. 157-59.
Whelan, Caroline F. “Amica Pauli: The Role of Phoebe in the Early Church.” JSNT 49 (1993): 67-85.
Wilken, Robert L. The Christians as the Romans Saw Them. New Haven, CT: Yale University, 1984.
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