Genres of the Gospels and Acts

6 The Genres of the Gospels and Acts [A]A (Few) Word(s) About Literary Genre [EXT]“He once entertained the envoys from the Persian king who came during Philip’s absence … He won upon them by his friendliness, and by asking no childish or trivial questions … the envoys were therefore astonished and regarded the much-talked-of ability of Philip as nothing compared to his son’s eager disposition to do great things.” Plutarch’s Life of Alexander 5.1 , trans. B. Perrin (LCL, p.235).[/EXT] This excerpt from Plutarch’s Life of Alexander, is a species of story similar to the twelve-year old Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2:41-51). The heroes of both stories were boys, precocious in that they both spoke with relevance beyond their years to the surprise of seasoned specialists, in military strategy for Alexander, and in theology for Jesus. The story in Alexander comes between a narrative of his birth, and the exploits of his maturity; likewise for Jesus. Such texts reveal an example of text that illumines in a flash why genre recognition is important. One might call this a child-prodigy story. Its form, content, and function seem clear. It prepares the reader for an amazing life. But as obvious as some examples are of identifiable genre, it is naïve to suppose that the discussion in this chapter is a self-evident one. The question of the genre of the four gospels and Acts is, on the contrary, a difficult one. Some scholars have dismissed all known generic categories for these writings (the gospels) and regarded them, instead, as the distinct products (sui generis, Latin for “of their own kind”) of early Christian communities.2 2Guelich, “Gospel Genre,” 178-208. See also Collins, Mark (2007) 19-22 and Burridge, What Are the Gospels? (2004), 7-15, these who discuss how form critics, like Dibelius and Bultmann, concluded that the gospels were distinguished as non-literary products of primitive Christian communities, and that many redaction critics, like Perrin and Vielhauer, favored this view despite the creative role they assigned to these authors. For different reasons, both the Italian literary critic, Croce, Aesthetic (1909) and the avant-garde Paris journal Tel Quel (1962-66) advocated critical theories which transcended all generic boundaries. Others dismiss discussion of genre for other hermeneutical reasons.3 3 Since genre implies a sort of social contract of known, shared meaning between writer and reader and hence infers necessarily a perception of authorial intent, how we treat the identification/interpretation of genre may be problematic to some postmodern/deconstructionist readers. Jacques Derrida thinks that the impure nature of genres renders classification of them an uncertain and a less than useful enterprise (“The Law of Genre”). It is beyond the scope of this text to explore this subject, and clearly the authors are taking a position that genre is recognizable and valuable. For more discussion, see Eddy and Boyd, Jesus Legend (16-21, 318-20); Thiselton, Collected Works. In order to advance discussion we will first examine Luke and Acts, next Matthew and Mark, then treat the Gospel of John in a separate section. Genre is commonly understood as the broad category of artistic, musical, or literary composition characterized by a particular style, form, purpose, or content. In modern literature, for example, there are the genres of fiction, non-fiction, drama, and poetry. These categories are often self-evident to the modern reader because he or she is accustomed to their style, form, content, and purpose. The classification of ancient writings (e.g., epic, tragedy, history) is more difficult because the modern reader is not as familiar with them. Nevertheless, the discipline of genre criticism is important for interpreting and understanding.4 4 See the ancient categories of epic poetry, tragic drama, dithyramb (1.1-3.6), and history (9.2; 23.2f), in Aristotle’s Poetics. “The critical theory of genres is stuck precisely where Aristotle left it,” Frye, Anatomy, 13, also 246-50. ”Understanding is genre-bound,” Hirsch, Validity in Interpretation (1967) 78, also 80f, 86, 98. See Todorov, Structural Approach to Literary Genre (1973); Gerhart, "Generic Studies,” JAAR 45 (3, 1977) 309-25 and “Generic Competence” in Genre, Narrativity (1988) 29-44; Strelka, ed., Theories of Literary Genre (1978); “genre establishes a relationship between author and reader…a generic contract,” Dubrow, Genre (1982) 31. It greatly assists our understanding of an ancient classic when we know what to expect from it and can discover what the work sought to accomplish. One of the reasons why there is so much disagreement about the nature of the Gospels is because there is general confusion about the type of literature that one is reading. For example, certain lay people read the prophecies of Mark 13 like weather predictions in today's newspaper. They also tend to read the ministry of Jesus in the Gospels like the daily itinerary of the pope. The general reader certainly does not treat modern literature in the same naive manner as the Gospels. For instance, most people correctly read Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller, Sr. by Ron Chernow as biography and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road as fiction. Despite current fascination with historical novels, such as The Rebels of Ireland (US) by Edward Rutherfurd, modern readers are cautious not to read too much fact into fiction. Why, therefore, is there so much confusion about interpreting the Gospels? Reading the Gospels as ancient literature raises another problem. The Gospels are not only classic writings but are also part of a canon of religious literature. This fact tends to encumber the Gospels with various kinds of traditional interpretations. This point might explain some of the confusion about interpreting the Gospels. But whatever our attitude towards these sacred books, our common goal is accurate interpretation (i.e., exegesis). The achievement of this objective requires some adherence to the basic methodologies discussed in chapter 5. Genre criticism also assists in this goal by complementing, correcting, or clarifying internal analysis through external classification. In our discussion of genre, we will be looking at the Gospels of Mark, Matthew, and Luke-Acts. From our study of source and redaction criticism, we have seen that Mark was probably the earliest gospel and Luke-Acts was a two-volume work written by one author. Furthermore, Matthew, Mark, and Luke are called the Synoptic Gospels because they share a similar vision of the life of Christ. Under what categories do we classify Matthew, Mark, and Luke-Acts? To illustrate the practical importance of this question, let us imagine ourselves in different roles at a different place and time. We are a group of librarians at the magnificent library of Alexandria in the third century AD. We have just received copies of Mark, Matthew, and Luke-Acts for the library. The head librarian orders us to categorize and shelve them with appropriate identifying tags.5 5 Ptolemy II (285-47 BC) wants Demetrius of Phaelerum, his librarian, to collect all the books in the world for the library of Alexandria, Demetrius reports an inventory of 20,000 volumes of scrolls, including, e.g., “works by poets and prose-writers, rhetoricians and sophists, doctors and soothsayers, historians and all others too” (Canfora, 20). Demetrius also wants to include a copy of the Jewish law in a Greek translation, Letter of Aristeas (170 BC?) 1-11, 29-31; Charlesworth, OTP 2:7-16ff; Canfora, Vanished Library 20-25,101, 45-50, 147-60. In 250 BC, Ptolemy III had given Callimachus of Cyrene the great task of cataloging the ever-increasing mountain of books, they were classified as written by: (1) dramatists, (2) epic and lyric poets, (3) legislators, (4) philosophers, (5) historians, (6) orators, (7) rhetoricians, and (8) miscellaneous, in Pollard and Reid, Rise and Fall of Alexandria, 146; Casson, Libraries in the Ancient World, 31-47. We must go through these documents and classify them according to the existing generic categories,6 6 The Christian category of "gospel" is not helpful in this context. The word "gospel" (evangelion), for Hellenistic non-Christians, probably had the meaning of a joyful announcement connected with the eventful appearance or activity of a great ruler, BDAG, 402f; LSJ, 704f. The titles "Gospel of Matthew, Gospel of Mark, Gospel of Luke, and Gospel of John" were applied to the first four books of our NT by Christians of the mid-second and third centuries (e.g., Justin, 1 Apol. 66.3) as convenient identifying labels; they do not represent a precise category of genre nor are they infallible indicators of authorship. Each of the Gospels and Acts should also be examined separately, since the source dependence of the Synoptic Gospels does not automatically mean genre dependence, see Shuler, Genre for the Gospels 30-31; Collins, Mark (2007) 19-22. and not according to some religious predisposition (i.e., canon). Under what genres do we classify these books? Three prevalent categories of the Hellenistic world might be suggested: history, biography, and tragic drama.7 7 Let us clarify our study with some preliminary remarks. (1) Other so-called genres could also be considered (e.g., historical romance, monograph), but most of them are modes of the three host ones that we have selected. To illustrate the dominance in antiquity of the genres of history, biography (or bios “lives”), and tragic drama or poetry, see, e.g., the mosaic (ca. AD 100) found at Hadrumetum in Africa (now in the Bardo museum) where Virgil is flanked by the muses of both history (Clio) and tragedy (Melpomene) as he composes the Aeneid. (See also “history” distinguished from “tragedy” in Polybius, Hist. 2.56.10-12.) Virgil describes his own work as an account of the deeds and hardships of Aeneas as he traveled from Troy to found Rome (Aeneid 1.1-7; i.e., an epic bios of Aeneas, perhaps inspired by the muse, Calliope?). Furthermore, see distinctions made between history and laudatory biography (or encomium) in Lucian, How to Write History 7; Plutarch, Alex. 1.2, who states “it is not Histories (historias) that I am writing but Lives (bious);” and also Nepos, Pel. 1.1 (1st cent. BC). (2) Our purpose here is not to develop specific criteria of "genre" and apply it consistently to each gospel as in Talbert, Gospel? 2-5 and Burridge, What Are the Gospels? 105-23. These approaches seem overconfident with the clarity of the criteria plus they assume too much uniformity of style, structure, and intent in all four gospels. In this chapter we seek to introduce the reader to a sampling of diverse (but prevalent) genre categories that a reading of the gospels might have elicited from the ancient reader. Consistent with our purpose, we consulted the authors of antiquity (e.g., Aristotle, Lucian) and certain literary critics (e.g., Hirsch, Frye) for definitions of the genres and tentative criteria to understand their forms and functions. (3) Our study presupposes that the first four books of our NT are not necessarily of the same literary genre merely because they contain common traditions and were labeled "Gospels" by later Christians. It also recognizes the difficulty of categorizing the gospels according to one genre because each book seems to incorporate several (sometimes large) literary types or modes. See Perkins, Synoptic Gospels, 1-16, 23-26, where she surveys comparisons of the gospels with ancient bios, apostolic memoirs (Justin Martyr), Mark as apocalyptic historical monograph, ancient novels, Homeric epic tales and other ancient epics, as well as ancient historiography. [A]The Historical Genre: A Comparison with Luke-Acts Why would any of the Gospels or Acts be compared to ancient history? They are not secular or comprehensive in scope like the Greek and Roman histories. Even when compared to the more religious Israelite-Jewish histories, they are still not as broad and inclusive. In contrast to most ancient histories, the Gospels and Acts do not focus on politics and war or generals and kings. In comparison with the great Greek histories of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Polybius, their style and composition is less cultivated. Finally, when Eusebius of Caesarea wrote his Ecclesiastical History in the early fourth century AD, he considered it to be the first of its kind (1.1). Despite the above contrasts, Luke-Acts lends itself to some comparison with ancient history. There are at least seven points of analogy: (1) prefaces stating the author's method and purpose; (2) chronological notations; (3) attention to factual details; (4) political bias; (5) assumptions about fate or providence; (6) speeches that express the author's understanding of the events; and (7) selective arrangement of events in a line of progression related to the present.8 8The above points are derived from comparisons of Luke-Acts with several ancient histories (e.g., Thucydides, Josephus, Herodotus, Polybius) and the following sources: Lucian, How To Write History, 7, 23-27, 40, 51-53, 58-60; Polybius, The Histories, 10.21.8; “Historiography,” in OCD, 714-17. Attridge, Antiquities of Josephus (1976); Cadbury, "Traditions of Writing History," BC 2:7-29; Dibelius, Studies, 125, 133-38; Gomme, Commentary on Thucydides (1956) 1:1-2, 25-30; Grant, Ancient Historians (1970); Momigliano, Ancient and Modern Historiography (1977); Van Seters, In Search of History (1982); Sterling, Apologetic Hist. (1992) ch. 7; Most Greek and Latin histories cited in this section are from the LCL. Before discussing the points of comparison we will first identify some ancient histories, then mention the similarities and differences of Greco-Roman and Israelite-Jewish histories. [B]Jewish and Greco-Roman Histories Examples of Israelite histories are the Deuteronomistic History (i.e., the final edition of Deut through 2 Kgs, or 1 Kgs to 4 Kgs in Greek LXX) and the Chronicler's history (1 and 2 Chron or 1 and 2 Supplements in LXX, Ezra, Neh). Examples of Hellenistic Jewish histories are 1 and 2 Maccabees, Artapanus, Concerning the Jews, Demetrius, and Josephus, Antiquities and War of the Jews. Examples of Greek and hellenistic histories are Herodotus, Histories, Thucydides, Hist. of the War (Peloponnesian War), Diodorus of Siculus, Bibliothēkē, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Rom. Antiq., and Polybius, Histories. Examples of Roman histories are the works of Livy, Ab urbe condita; Sallust (historical monographs), and Tacitus, Annals and Histories. Although the Israelite-Jewish histories are not as secular and anthropocentric as certain Greco-Roman histories (e.g., Thucydides, Xenophon), they have similarities. Both types deal with the similar topics of politics and wars of nations, as well as the words and activities of rulers and generals. It was probably for this reason that Eusebius in the fourth century labeled his history of Christianity, Ecclesiastical History, although he is selective in his mention of political events and the activities of rulers. Both Jewish and Greco-Roman histories attempt to be comprehensive in their recording of events and people in a linear progression of time (i.e., the origin and development of a people).9 9It has been held that the basic difference between Israelite-Jewish and Greco-Roman histories consisted in their respective concepts of time. See Boman, Hebrew Thought Compared with Greek (ET, 1960). But recent research has raised doubts about these distinctions. See Momigliano, "Time in Ancient Historiography," Ancient and Modern Historiography, 184-89; Gabba, “True History,” JRS 71 (1981) 50-62. For further critiques of the old view, see Barr, Biblical Words for Time, 2nd. ed. (1969); Hengel, Judaism and Hellenism (1979); Brown, Israel and Greece (2003) 1-48; Malina, “Christ and Time,” CBQ 51 (1989) 1-31. Malina contrasts the modern western future linear orientation with the Mediterranean present temporal orientation, where the past is viewed from its impact on the present, 24-28. The past-orientation of Roman elites was often a result of ancestrism and the belief that history teaches us about the present life (Cicero, De Orat. 2.9), but long-range plans for the future were not part of the Roman agenda, Malina, Ibid., 6 n.16; see also Van Seters on ancient history writing in Israel, In Search of History, 4-5; and Greco-Roman “Time-reckoning,” OCD, 1527-8. It also must be pointed out that the pervasive influence of Hellenism made Jewish and Greco-Roman histories increasingly similar (e.g., works of Josephus and Tacitus). Fate, providence, moralism, and value judgments can be found in both Israelite-Jewish and Greco-Roman histories with differences only in emphasis and interpretation. For example, the works of Herodotus, Hist. 1.53-56; Polybius, Hist. 1.4.1-2, Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheke 1.1.3 and Tacitus, Hist., include instances where fate seems to rule in the affairs of people; in Israelite-Jewish histories, however, fate is explicitly ascribed to the providence of God and occurs more frequently in their accounts.1 10 For discussion of fate, prophetic oracles, and providence with primary sources, see “divination,” 487-8, “dreams,” 496-7,“fate,” 589-90, and “oracles,” 1071-2 in OCD; Aune, Prophecy (1983) chs. 2-5,7,10; Talbert, "Prophecy and Fulfillment,” New Perspectives, 91-103; idem, Reading Luke (2002) 263-76; Sterling, Apologetic Hist., 295-56, 358-59; Kurz, “Hellenistic Jewish Narratives,” Heritage of Israel (1999) 147-70; Robbins, Invention (2009) 253-60.0 Value judgments and moralism appear more often in Israelite-Jewish histories (1 Kgs 11:4-6), perhaps because they are more religious in nature than most Greco-Roman histories (but see the judgment of Herodotus regarding a story in his Hist. 1.60.3). The basic differences between Israelite-Jewish and Greco-Roman histories would be in the areas of religious or philosophical bias, reliability of evidence, and motives for writing history. Concerning bias, Israelite-Jewish histories give prominence to the role of the prophet who interprets the religious significance of the events. In certain Greco-Roman histories we find, e.g., oracles of Delphi (often cryptic) impacting the events.1 11 See Herodotus, Hist. 1.46, oracles in numerous localities, 1.53,91 (to King Croesus); discussion in Plutarch, Pyth. orac.; the Sybil at Cumae in Virgil, Aeneid 6.9-101; OCD, 1071-2. For additional similarities and differences, see Momigliano, "Time" 194-95; Schmidt, “Deuteronomistic or Hellenistic?” 417-27; Nielsen, Herodotus and Deuteronomistic History (1997) despite his late date for the final redaction of Dtr Hist, helpful comparisons are made; see excellent overview in Aune, NTLE (1987) ch. 3. 1 Regarding the attention to the reliability of evidence, Greco-Roman histories generally placed a higher priority on it as a criterion for writing history (e.g., Thucydides, Xenophon). Most Israelite-Jewish histories incorporated religious traditions without questioning their reliability (e.g., strange miracles, e.g., 2 Kgs 2:24; 6:6). Some differences also included the motives for writing history. For Greeks it was to cherish the examples of the ancestors and to rescue what was in danger of being unknown (Herodotus, 1.1). For Israelite history, it was more a religious duty to remember the past (Exod 32:13; Deut 7:18). These motives for writing Jewish history, however, are not profoundly different from the pagan Greeks and Romans. It is with the above similarities and differences between Greco-Roman and Israelite-Jewish historiography in view, that we compare Luke-Acts with "ancient history." Let us now look at the seven points of comparison. [B]Points of Comparison with Luke-Acts [C]Similar Prefaces The first point of correspondence between Luke-Acts and ancient history is found in the prefaces: Lk 1:1-4 and Acts 1:1-2 (not to exclude parallels with the academic prose prefaces of e.g., Galen, Hermogenes, and Vettius Valens). Because papyri scrolls were limited in length, ca. 30 feet with about 100 columns of words, an ancient author had to divide his work into separate volumes. He would prefix to the first a preface for the whole and add secondary prefaces to the beginning of each later one.1 12 For Lucian’s views on writing prefaces, see his Hist., 16, 52-53; For comparisons with historiographical prefaces, see Cadbury, "Preface of Luke," BC 2:491; Sterling, Apologetic Hist., 339-46; for parallels to scientific and technical treatises of e.g., Galen, Hermogenes, see Alexander, Preface (1993); see helpful discussion in Moessner, ed., Heritage of Israel, 9-23 (several essayists); Aune, WDNTECLR (2003) 280-81 (Luke and Acts on two scrolls) 367-72 (prefaces). 2 This is apparently the case with the Lukan prefaces. Both are addressed to Theophilus, probably a Roman patron to whom the work is dedicated (or e.g., the book’s publisher, or even a fictional person, theo-philus, i.e., “lover of God”). There are parallels to this practice in the work of the historians Josephus (“Epaphroditus” in C. Ap. 1.1; 2.1; Antiq. 1.8) and Polybius (Hist. 1.1 and 3.1). Like the preface in ancient histories (e.g., Polybius), Luke alludes to the narrative work of his predecessors (diēgēsis, Luke 1:1). The Lukan preface also reflects the historical concern to utilize eyewitness material (autoptēs, Luke 1:2; Polybius, Tacitus). "Events accomplished among us" (pragma, Luke 1:1) echoes the focus of ancient historiography on the facts of the near past (e.g., Herodotus, Thucydides, Polybius). Luke's concerns to "follow all things closely" and "write an orderly account" (akribōs, kathēchēs, Luke 1:3) are in keeping with the practices of ancient historians to work carefully through reports and memoranda and arrange them in an orderly manner.1 13Lucian, How to Write History 43-44, 47-48; Dionysius of Halicarnassus, On Thucydides 6; Alexander, Preface (1993) 102-46. 3 We know that Luke probably made use of at least two documents in his composition, Mark and Q (Quelle, source common of both Matt and Luke). Like the ancient histories, Luke's general purpose is to “preserve from decay the remembrance of what others have done,” (Herodotus, Hist. 1.1). [C]Similar Chronological Notations A second point of comparison is chronological notation. These synchronisms are found in Luke-Acts at numerous points. They link the birth of Jesus with the reign of Emperor Augustus and the census of Quirinius, legate of Syria (Luke 2:1). They also connect the ministry of John the Baptist with the rules of Emperor Tiberius, Pontius Pilate, prefect of Judea, and the Herodian ethnarchs (3.1). Further references are made to: the famine under Emperor Claudius (Acts 11:28); the death of Herod Agrippa I (11:20-23); the expelling of Jews from Rome under Claudius (18:2); Paul's appearances before Gallio, proconsul of Achaia (18:12-17); the procurators Felix and Festus (24-25); and the ethnarch Agrippa II (25:13-14). Such chronological notes are characteristic of ancient histories (Thucydides 2.2; 4.135; Polybius, Hist. 1.3; 2.37; Josephus, Ant. 18.106; 20.1). They are also Luke's attempt to link his account of Jesus and early Christianity with the secular Roman world. Similar Attention to Detail Related to synchronisms is the third point: attention to factual details. This concern for specific names, dates, places, titles, and technical terms is especially evident in the histories of Herodotus, Thucydides, Polybius, and Josephus. However, Luke's concern for factual details is no guarantee of their accuracy. Discrepancies do occur, as in all ancient writing, for example: the linking of Jesus' birth (4 BC) with the census of Quirinius (AD 6) in Lk 2:1, the conflicts with Josephus on the dating of Theudas the rebel (Acts 5:36; Ant. 20.97-98) and disagreements with Paul's letters on the apostle's visits to Jerusalem (Acts 9; 11; 15 with Gal 1-2). Despite the above discrepancies in its narrative, Luke-Acts includes many accurate details. The author's knowledge of the Aegean Sea region is extensive (Acts 15:36-19:20; cf., Thucydides) and numerous localities are correctly identified. Luke's account of Paul's basic itinerary finds many points of agreement with Paul's letters. The narrative of Paul's sea voyage to Rome is one of the most instructive accounts of ancient seamanship (Acts 27:12-8:15). The book of Acts alone contains more than one hundred personal names: Jewish, Christian, and pagan. The identities of many of the personages are corroborated by Paul's letters and ancient history (e.g., Paul's co-workers, Gallio, Claudius, Felix, Festus). Details of time and place, as well as concern for technical terms, also figure prominently. Note for example, the time and place notations on Paul's itinerary: three Sabbaths in the synagogue of Thessalonica (17:2), eighteen months in Corinth (18:11), three months in the synagogue of Ephesus (19:8), and three months in Achaia (20:3). Luke also has an impressive grasp of the technical terms of Roman administration. He correctly distinguishes between imperial provinces governed by legates and senatorial provinces ruled by proconsuls (e.g., Acts 13:7; 16:20,22; 18:12). He is familiar with other titles of local provincial magistrates: "politarchs" (17:6), "city clerk" (19:31). Furthermore, he is informed about appropriate military titles (10:1; 21:31; 27:1). [C]Similar Bias The fourth point of comparison is that of political bias. Since ancient history deals with politics and war, and all historians are partial to certain viewpoints, political bias often surfaces in their work. Herodotus and Thucydides were pro-Athenian, Polybius, Tacitus, and Josephus were pro-Roman. It is also the case with Luke-Acts. Despite some instances of cruelty and corruption (Luke 13:1; Acts 24:25-27), imperial Rome is portrayed in a favorable light. In Luke's Gospel, both the Roman prefect Pilate and a Roman centurion, on separate occasions, declare Jesus innocent (23:4, 14, 22, 47). In Acts, prominent Roman officials are converted to Christianity (Acts 10-11; 13:7-12; 28:7-10), Paul himself claims to be a Roman citizen and enjoys all the privileges connected with that honor (16:37-39; 22:24-29), and in Rome Paul is permitted to live under house arrest and receive visitors (28:16, 30-31). Luke's motive for this pro-Roman bias is probably similar to that of the Jewish historian Josephus: to achieve a favorable standing with Rome for himself and his people. Luke sought to win Rome's favor towards Christianity, whereas Josephus had the same objective on behalf of Judaism.1 14On Luke-Acts and Josephus as apologetic historiography seeking to establish their self-identity in the larger world, see Sterling, Apologetic Hist., 16-19, 255, 297f, 308-10, 385-93. See also Holladay, Hellenistic Jewish Authors (1983).4 [C]Similar Views on Providence The fifth basis of comparison concerns assumptions about fate or providence. Even though Luke's notion of divine necessity in human affairs (e.g., Luke 17:25; 22:22; 24:26; Acts 4:28; 10:42; 13:48; 17:31) has similar functions to the Greco-Roman concept of fate in history, the best context for understanding this theme is in Israelite-Jewish history. In Luke-Acts, divine necessity is closely related to fulfillment of the Jewish Scriptures (Luke 24:26-27, 44-47; Acts 4:24-29; 10:42-43; 13:46-48). Although similar phenomena are found in pagan histories,1 15For example, Herodotus narrates the Delphic oracle’s cryptic prophecy (one of many) to King Croesus of Miletus going to war and “destroying an empire,” Hist. 1.53-56,91, the cosmic consequences of a return to despotism in the speech of Socles to the Spartans, 5.92, and predictions in the visions/dreams of King Xerxes and Artabanos, his advisor, regarding their plans to fight the Greeks, 7.14-19. The prophecy of Vespasian becoming emperor of Rome is recounted in Suetonius, Vespasian 5; and Tacitus, Hist. 5.13; Josephus claims to have made this prophecy concerning Vespasian (B.J.3.399-408); See other predictions of a coming ruler in Virgil, Ecologues 4 and the Sibylline Oracles 11-12. For other hellenistic prophecies (pagan and Jewish), see Aune, Prophecy (1983); Talbert, Reading Luke (2002) 265-69. 5 proof-from-prophecy in Luke-Acts is biblical. Much of Luke's thought on divine election is also informed by biblical texts (Luke 9:35; 23:35; cf. Isa 42:1; Luke 2:31-32; Acts 1:8; 13:47; cf. Isa 49:6). In Israelite-Jewish history, the themes of divine necessity and election occur in the context of God's activity on behalf of his people, called "salvation history." Two examples of this divine activity are God's delivering Israel from Egypt and bringing it into the land of Canaan. In Luke-Acts, salvation history is identified with the appearance of Jesus as savior of the world (Luke 1:30-33; 2:10-14,27-32; Acts 3:13-15; 4:10-12) and the extension of salvation to the nations (Luke 24:46-48; Acts 1:8; 9:15; 13:47).1 16 The following works treat the themes of divine necessity, election, and proof-from-prophecy under Luke's salvation-history scheme: Conzelmann, Theology of St. Luke, (ET, 1961) 149-69; Dahl, "Abraham in Luke-Acts," in SLA 139-58; OToole, Unity 17-32; Squires, Plan of God (1993) 34-36, 137-39, 187f; Sterling, Apologetic Hist., 358-59; Kurz, “Hellenistic Jewish Narratives,” Heritage of Israel (1999) 148-55; Puskas, Conclusion (2009) 5, 23, 75, 94, 100, 121-28. 6 [C]Similar Use of Speeches The sixth point of comparison is the use of speeches that express the author's interpretation of the events. It was common practice in ancient times to adorn historical works with speeches of the actors that expressed the historian's perspective on the events narrated. Thucydides in his introduction to the Peloponnesian Wars (1.22.1) states his method of employ ing speeches. Although its was difficult for him to follow precise wordings, Thucydides would try to keep to the general sense of the word to make the speakers say, in his opinion, what was called for by each situation. Instances can be cited, however, where Thucydides falls short of his methodological objective. Let us look at some examples. The famous funeral oration of Pericles makes little reference to the minor occasion in which it is placed (2.34-46); detailed forensic speeches make little reference to the event that prompted the debate (3.36-50); and the favorite themes of Thucydides are repeated on the mouths of different speakers addressing different audiences (1.120-24; 140-44). Even though some of the above examples may capture the memory of the occasion, the speeches as ancient history reflect the author's purpose and contain teaching to instruct the reader.1 17Cadbury, "Speeches in Acts" BC 5:405 (402-27). See also on Lukan speeches Dibelius, Studies in Acts, 138-91; Schweizer, "Concerning Speeches in Acts," SLA 208-16; Bailey, LFNT (1992) 166-72; Soards, Speeches in Acts (1994) 134-61; Aune, WDNTECLR (2003) 447-49. Two examples from the Roman period revealing the authors' creative use of speeches will also be given. The speech of Caesar to his soldiers in Dio Cassius, Roman History 38.36-46, is very different from the brief address reported by Caesar himself in Gallic Wars 1.40. Josephus, reporting on the same event in different books, puts two different speeches in the mouth of Herod in War 1.373-379 and Ant. 15.53. On the proper use of speeches, see Thucydides, Hist. 1.22.1 and Polybius, Hist. 12.25a.5-25b.1. 7 Approximately one-fifth of the book of Acts, like the history of Thucydides, is speech material. In Acts, there are speeches that proclaim the passion, resurrection, and exaltation of Jesus (e.g., Acts 2:14-39; 3:11-26; 4:18-22; 13:16-41) and those that defend Paul and the Christian mission to the Gentiles (22:3-21; 26:1-23; 28:16-28). As in ancient history, the speeches of Acts enhance the significance of the events, advance the action of the narrative, and allow the author to address his audience through his characters. Although some speeches may capture the essence of the original event, they primarily reflect the author's interpretation and perspective. Many speeches do not even apply to the specific setting in which they are found, but go beyond the historical situation to address the readers of the book.1 18The author of Luke-Acts appears to make creative use of his speeches as in ancient history. First, the speeches and narratives are dominated by the style and thought of Luke. Second, the author's favorite scriptural quotes occur in the mouths of different speakers on different occasions, for example: Ps 16 in both Acts 2:27 (Peter) and 13:35 (Paul); Deut 18 in both 3:22 (Peter) and 7:37 (Stephen); Ex 20 in both 4:24 (the disciples) and 14:15 (Paul). Third, a similar logic of interpreting biblical quotes is presupposed in all of the above speeches: (a) Scripture says this; (b) this must apply to the speaker's time or another era; (c) it does not apply to the speaker's time; (d) therefore since it was fulfilled in Jesus, it may be applied to him. All the Christian speakers of Acts interpret Scripture in a similar manner. Cadbury, "Speeches," BC 5:408; Soards, Speeches in Acts (1994) 182-208.8 [C]Similar Arrangement in a Line of Progression Both Greco-Roman and Israelite-Jewish histories basically follow a line of progression through time, and both were acquainted with a cycle of seasons and festivals (which complements this progression through time). For example, the Greek Herodotus begins his Histories with the rise of the Persian Empire from its beginnings to the sixth century BC (1.1-5.27). He then progresses to the Greek and the Persian wars of the sixth and fifth centuries BC (5.28-9.1). The Jewish historian, Josephus, in his Antiquities, follows the progression of biblical history in his first eleven books: Creation, to the Exodus (12th cent. BC), to the Exile and Restoration (6th and 5th cents. BC). In the remaining nine books, Josephus continues from the death of Alexander the Great (4th cent. BC) to the Maccabean and Hasmonean periods (2nd and 1st cents. BC), ending with the outset of the Jewish revolt (AD 66). The War of the Jews by Josephus begins with a survey of events from Antiochus IV Epiphanes (168 BC) to the death of Herod the Great (4 BC). He continues from the death of Herod up to the time Vespasian was sent to subdue the Jewish revolt (AD 66) and then focuses on the Jewish revolt in the remaining five books (AD 66-73). Luke-Acts covers not the centuries outlined by Herodotus and Josephus, but less than sixty years from the birth of Jesus to the imprisonment of Paul at Rome (4 BC-AD 62). The reason for this brevity is that Luke, like certain ancient historians (e.g., Thucydides, Xenophon, Hellenica), is selective. He reports only what is "important, essential, personal or useful.”1 19Lucian, How to Write History 53; see also in Dionysius, On Thucydides, balanced treatment of content, 6, and avoiding excessive elaborataion, 42. 9 Luke-Acts, similar to ancient histories, moves in a geographical and chronological progression (in Luke-Acts) from Jesus to the Jerusalem church and Paul at Rome. The book of Acts begins with the emergence of Christianity in Jerusalem (1:15-8:3 [AD 33?]). It continues with the spread of Christianity into Samaria and the coastal regions of Palestine (8:4-11:18 [AD 34-36?]). Acts then focuses on the development of Christianity in Antioch, Asia Minor (11:19-15:35 [AD 37-48]), and the Aegean Sea region (15:36-19:20 [AD 48-55]). It concludes with the progression of Christianity from Jerusalem to Rome in the story of Paul's journeys, imprisonment, and appeal to Caesar (19:21-28:31 [AD 57-62]).2 20Cadbury, "Greek and Jewish Traditions of Writing History” 7 BC 2:22-29, for other comparisons, see Ibid., 2:7-21; Peterson, Acts, 32-39; Puskas, Conclusion, 3-4, 83-4, 125-27. 01 8 [A]The Biographical Genre: A Comparison with Matthew The second ancient genre to be examined is biography. Most of the primary sources of ancient biography cited in this section are from the LCL. See also Athanassakis, Life of Pachomius (1975); Aune, "Problem of the Genre of the Gospels” Gospel Perspectives, vol. 2, ed. France (1981); idem, "Greco-Roman Biography" Greco-Roman literature and the NT, ed. Aune (1988), 107-26; idem, Literary Envirionment (esp pp. 17-76); Klaus Baltzer, Die Biographie der Propheten (a study which works not from Graeco-Roman biography, but biographies of the prophets, providing the stimulus for some of Dormeyer’s work, and treated positively by Koester [below]); Barr and Wentling, "Conventions of Classical Biography,” Luke-Acts, 63-88; Berger “Hellenistische Gattungen” (this essay contains a chronological list of Greek and Latin biographies); Burridge What are the Gospels? (2004) with an analysis of the problem and proposed solution makes a strong case for the Gospels as ancient bioi (biographies) allowing this genre to be mixed even with other lesser “modes;” idem. Four Gospels, (pp.5-8 for a quick summary of his conclusions); Cartlidge and Dungan, Documents; Cox, Biography in Late Antiquity (1983); Dormeyer and Frankenmölle “Evangelium als literarischer und als theologischer Begriff;” Dormeyer, Evangelium als Gattung;m Eddy and Boyd, Jesus Legend, 309-361; Guelich, “The Gospel Genre;” Gundry, "Recent Investigations into the Literary Genre 'Gospel " New Dimensions (1974) 97-114 (both Eddy & Boyd, plus Guelich & Gundry argue that the Gospels are unique [sui generis] and kerygmatic expansions in origin); Hadas and Smith, Heroes and Gods, Spiritual Biographies (1965); Koester, Ancient Christian Gospels (Gospels as Hellenistic biographies is especially challenged in ch. 1; the book proposes that there are 7 different genres [or better, “forms”] dealing with the transmission of Jesus tradition: sayings-collections, miracle story chains, parable collections, apocalyptic prophecies, birth legends, kerygma gospel and dialogues); idem, From Jesus to the Gospels (esp. ch.4 “From the Kerygma-Gospel to Written Gospels”); Shuler, A Genre for the Gospels; Talbert, Literary Patterns; idem, "Prophecies of Future Greatness,” Divine Helmsman, ed. Crenshaw (1980) 129-41; idem, What Is A Gospel?; Votaw, Gospels and Contemporary Biographies (1915; 1970); Wardman, Plutarch's Lives (1974). Why would any of the Gospels and Acts be read as biography? Though Matthew refers to his composition as “book” (biblos) and did not read Mark’s opening use of gospel (euangelion) as a title or generic description (though Mark’s opening lent itself to engendering the genre ‘gospel’), it is as ‘biography’ that we will discuss it. The discourse among scholars since the Enlightenment over whether it is appropriate to call (any of) the gospels ‘biography’ has looked like a game of verbal volleyball. Much ink has been spilt, but the evidence in favor of them being some sort of recognizable biography is overwhelming. Still, we will discern other familiar or identifiable genres that have been added, forming a mixtum compositum or “mixed genre,” and we will end our discussion in this section with an example of such. [B]Some Objections There are certainly questions to be raised against the genre biography. They stories have “nothing to say about Jesus' human personality, his appearance and character, his origin, education, and development.” Bultmann, Synoptic Tradition, p. 372. The Gospels and Acts are also not as cultivated in techniques of composition as great literature of this type. Though the episodic and paratactic style often profiled as an example of this gracelessness is a signal feature of specific types of Graeco-Roman biographical literature (cf. Aune, Literary Environment, 31-35). Conversely, they are rich in traditions of divine activity and reflect a communal setting of worship, but this is not typical of ancient biographies. Bultmann, Synoptic Tradition 371-74. Though these are valid observations, their relevance must be assessed within the context of comparable literature. First, regarding silence about Jesus' human personality, appearance, character Character was indeed important to include as a feature of biography, but it was manifested in a person’s words and actions (Xenephon, Memorabalia 1.1.20; where Socrate’s words /logoi/ and deeds /prattein; praxis/ testify to his reverence /sebas/; cf. Luke 24:19; Acts 1:1), hence Bultmann’s inclusion of this as a disclaimer is a misunderstanding of ancient literature on this point. , origin, education, and development, it will be shown that books which follow the three aspects of a bios pattern need not include all of the above characteristics to be a biography. Second, concerning the literary quality of the Gospels, although they were not written in the Attic Greek of Polybius and Xenophon, appear to be more loosely joined collections of folk traditions produced by sectarian communities. Redaction and literary criticisms have established that the final forms of the Gospels and Acts are the designed literary products of creative authors. The Gospels and Acts are not polished Attic Greek but reflect definite techniques of composition and style. Third, it can be shown that numerous ancient biographies: (a) contain myths of immortals and divine men (e.g., Alexander the Great, Augustus, Pythagoras, Apollonius of Tyana); and (b) are linked to communities founded by, or connected with, the hero of the narratives (e.g., emperor cults of Alexander and Augustus, religious communities of Pythagoras, shrines and temples of Apollonius). Talbert, Gospel? 25-113; Despite the above difficulties, the Gospels (especially Matthew) and most ancient biographies share a common bios or life pattern. The pattern manifests itself in at least three areas: (1) similar topoi or topics relevant to the praise of an individual, (2) analogous literary techniques of creative arrangement, amplification, and comparison, and (3) a common intent to praise and honor a great individual. These three characteristics apply to a certain type of ancient biography, encomium, which was well known in late antiquity. The three points are derived from both the remarks of Greek and Latin rhetoricians and a comparison of ancient biographies, as outlined in Shuler, Genre for the Gospels 85-87, 92-106. These characteristics would not include biographies which seek to discredit a teacher (e.g., Lucian, Alexander the False Prophet) or those which combine genres (e.g., Life of Aesop, a romantic type of biography). Before discussing these patterns with their Matthean analogues, we will profile the type of biography of interest, and give examples of similarity. [B]Characteristics of Laudatory Biography The type of ancient biography with which we are concerned is called encomium or laudatory biography. This was a distinct type of literature in the ancient Mediterranean world whose primary concern was to show individual greatness and merit. On formal encomia and the characteristics of the laudatory biography genre cf. Isocrates, Helen, Busiris, Evagoms; Tacitus, Agricola; Lucian, Demonax; Philostratus, Life of Apollonius; Shuler, Genre for the Gospels 57. For further discussion on the criteria for determining genre, see Barr and Wentling, "Classical Biography/' Luke-Acts 63-88. The three characteristics of encomium (i.e., topoi, literary techniques, and common intent) are derived from Greek and Roman experts on rhetoric: Aristotle (4th cent. BC), Cicero (1st cent. BC), Quintilian (1st cent. AD), Theon of Egypt (2nd cent. AD), and Hermogenes of Tarsus (2nd cent. AD). Because of the far reaching influence of many of the above rhetoricians, the techniques of writing encomia would have been known in most areas of the first-century Mediterranean world. See e.g., Marrou, History of Education in Antiquity (1948; 1982) 198-99. [C]Similar Topoi The first identifiable characteristic of ancient biography is topoi (i.e., "topics, common-places, or elements"). This feature of encomium consists of topics of birth, ancestry, character, deeds, virtues, and type of death. The use of such topoi was determined by the design of the author. Detailed explanations of them are given by Quintilian and Theon of Smyrna. Matthew's Gospel contains the following topoi in the accounts of Jesus' birth and infancy: (a) his illustrious lineage through his earthly father (1:17); (b) his upright earthly father (1:19); (c) the time and place of his birth (2:1); (d) his escape from death as an infant (2:13-15); and (e) his home town (2:23). These topoi are accented by dreams, stellar illumination, and the adoration of the child. Many of these elements appear in ancient biographies (e.g., Isocrates, Evagoras, Philo, Life of Moses, Tacitus, Agricola). The above analysis of Matthew as ancient encomium is derived from Shuler, Genre for the Gospels 98-106. See also Burridge, What are the Gospels? (2004) 67-123, for surveys of ancient and modern discussion with his recommended sequence of analysis, i.e., opening features, subject, external (size, length, structure) and internal (function, occasion, purpose) features, In Matthew 3-4, Jesus' baptism and temptation can be viewed as substitutes for stories about the virtues of his childhood and youth. In Ch 3, Jesus is empowered by God's Spirit and his identity is revealed as God's Son. After his messianic identity is disclosed, it is tried and proven in the next scene (4:3, 6). Matthew 4 presents Jesus as a strong messianic figure who can withstand temptation and provide spiritual leadership. In several laudatory biographies, heroes were praised because their vocational choices were not altered by other tempting possibilities. For example, Agricola resisted fame, Moses his royal inheritance in Egypt, and Demonax, wealth. Other topoi of significance are connected with Jesus' death and resurrection. By focusing on these aspects that underscore Jesus' innocence, uprightness, and messianic identity, Matthew transforms a scandalous form of death into a victorious glorification. For example, the predictions of Jesus' impending death (16:21; 18:22-23; 20:17-19; 26:2) underscore its significance. By emphasizing the following two points, Matthew also affirms Jesus' innocence: (1) his death was the result of a treacherous scheme by his opponents (26:3-5; 27:1); and (2) the betrayer Judas realized he was wrong and feebly tried to rectify it (27:3-10). As in the narrative of Jesus' birth, supernatural events surround his death, affirming his innocence and messianic identity. Through his wife's dream (27:19), Pilate is warned to have nothing to do with the upright Jesus. Pilate, Jesus' judge, then becomes convinced of his innocence (27:2426). The divine necessity of Jesus' death is indicated by darkness over the land at his death (27:45) and the tearing of the temple curtain (27:51). There is also mention of an earthquake with a resurrection and appear ance of the dead (27:51-53). A second earthquake also appears on the first day of the week before the women visit Jesus' tomb (28:1). Even his humiliating death is presented in such a way as to elicit faith and praise from the reader. In response to the events connected with Jesus' death the centurion and his men exclaim in unison: "Certainly this was the Son of God" (27:54). Finally, Matthew gives special evidence of the resurrection. In Mt 27:6266, Pilate sets up guards to prevent the theft of Jesus' body and squelch all rumors of a resurrection. Shortly afterward (28:4) it is the soldiers themselves who witness the magnificent angel rolling the stone away from the tomb, and their response is one of fear. Still later (28:11-15) the soldiers are bribed and told to falsify their testimony by stating that the disciples stole the body. Consequently, Matthew's readers can have confidence in the resurrection of Jesus through this carefully worked out defense. [C]Analogous Techniques The second characteristic of ancient biography is found in the literary techniques of creative arrangement, amplification, and comparison. By creative arrangement we mean the subordination of geography and chronology to the author's design. For example, in Agricola by Tacitus, the author's apologetic is veiled in a conquest of Britain without a real concern for geographical accuracy. In Matthew's Gospel, there is no attempt to trace a chronology of Jesus' life. Matthew uses the bios form as an outline on which to organize the traditions that commend Jesus. Traditions which eulogize the hero are historicized, like the Sermon on the Mount and the speeches of both Calgarus and Agricola in Agricola 29-36. Matthew further validates his presentation with numerous Scripture quotations, each prefaced by a fixed formula (e.g., 1:22; 2:15,17,23). In a similar manner, Plutarch incorporates quotations from ancient poets to support the praiseworthiness of its subjects (e.g., Philopoemen 11:2-3 and Aristides 3.4 in Lives). Matthew also tends to arrange materials thematically. For example, the Sermon on the Mount (5-7) concerns righteousness; miracle stories are combined in one unit (8-9), the mission charge (10) focuses on discipleship; the section on parables (13) concerns the kingdom and its growth; rules of church discipline are collected in ch 18; teachings against the Pharisees are in ch 23; and discourses on the return of the Lord and final judgment are collected in chs 24-25. Traditions are also organized in both Philo (Life of Moses) and Xenophon (Agesilaus) to convey special themes of the authors. Amplification is the technique used by laudatory biographers to accent the positive attributes and minimize the negative qualities of their heroes. It is a basic feature of encomium. Polybius described it as a "somewhat exaggerated account of ... achievements" (Histories 10.21.8). Cicero described it as eulogizing actions in a way that enhances merit to the point of exaggeration (Letters 5.12.3). Encomium seeks to magnify the merits of a great person, and not to dissect or criticize that individual (cf. also Josephus, Life; Plutarch, Lives; Cornelius Nepos, Lives of Great Men [Pelopidas 16.1.1]). The literary convention of amplification is used often by Matthew. The progressive disclosure of Jesus' identity as the Son of God (1-4) and the extraordinary topoi surrounding his death (27-28) are two examples of amplification. Both sections are heightened by the use of dreams, super natural phenomena, and the testimony of eyewitnesses. Amplification is also evidenced in the particular segments of Jesus' life chosen by Matthew for presentation. Following most ancient biographies, Matthew concentrates on certain segments of the adult years. Matthew includes Jesus' birth and the beginning of his ministry, but only as preliminary accounts. The ministry itself focuses on a small segment of Jesus' life in comparison with the accounts of his final week. From these concentrated traditions, one can discern the identity and character of Jesus, his message pro claimed, his actions performed, the nature of the opposition as a rationale for his death, and the purposes of God throughout the entire process. The literary technique of comparison was prevalent in laudatory biography. In Isocrates, Helen 16, the technique is used to elevate Helen to a rank above the great Hercules. Much of Helen's praiseworthiness is also derived from the character of her suitors, like the noble Theseus (38). In Isocrates, Evagoras, Cyrus and Conon are compared to Evagoras but neither excels him in greatness (33). In Philo, Life of Moses 2.19-20, the law of Moses is regarded as superior to that of other nations. It was Ptolemy Philadelphus, whose qualities are unequaled, that recognized the value of Moses' law and commissioned its translation into Greek (2.29-37). In the Letter of Aristeas, Ptolemy Philadelphus (285-247 BC) is purported to be the backer of the Jewish translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek (LXX) in Alexandria, Egypt. Use of comparison is evident in Matthew's Gospel. Impressive personages, like John the Baptist, Jesus' opponents, and Roman officials are shown by comparison to neither excel nor equal Jesus in greatness or authority. In Mt 3, John appears as an impressive figure: preaching, baptizing, and attracting disciples. His preaching is identical with that of Jesus (3:2; 4:17). The groups that John denounces become the opponents of Jesus (Pharisees and Sadducees, 3:7). These parallels, for Matthew, are not to argue that John and Jesus are equals or that Jesus was a disciple of John. In Mt 3:14, John's hesitation to baptize Jesus and his own willingness to be baptized by Jesus point to the superiority of Jesus over John. John's identification with Elijah (3:3; 11:14) also indicates Jesus' supremacy: John is the one preparing the way for another greater than he. Following the baptism, both the heavenly voice and the descent of the dove con firm this conclusion. The implication of this comparison is that, since John can be considered great, how much greater is Jesus. This type of comparison was frequently used in rabbinic interpretation. In the hermeneutical rules of Hillel (1st cent.) it was called, qal wahomer or "inference from minor and major.” Matthew's depiction of Jesus and his opponents also reveals comparison. Although direct conflict begins at Matthew 12, readers are alerted earlier to impending conflict. After the Sermon on the Mount it is stated that Jesus taught with authority not as the scribes (7:28-29). In response to an indicting question (9:11) Jesus gives only a general answer (9:1213), and to charges by the Pharisees (9:34) he gives a reply later in the narrative (12:24-32). When Jesus commissions his disciples he warns them that they will encounter the same opposition that he is about to face (10:16-25). These clues alert the reader to expect greater conflicts in the narrative between Jesus and his opponents. In Matthew 12-22 the conflict stories are more direct and intense. The Pharisees criticize Jesus for allowing his disciples to pluck grain on the Sabbath and even condemn him for healing on that sacred day (Mt 12:115a). The clever responses of Jesus to the accusations of his opponents (vv 3-13) indicates his superiority over them. Therefore, since they are incapable of defeating him in debate, they must destroy him (v 14). The conflict stories again become concentrated at Mt 21:23 and climax in 22:45f. Now Jesus appears as the aggressor. After a series of confrontations, the Pharisees refuse to answer a question Jesus initiates and Matthew states that "no one dared ... to ask him any more questions" (22:46). The reader therefore concludes that Jesus is superior to his opponents. Even though Jesus answered all his opponents charges and questions, they were at a loss to answer his challenge, and so their only course of action was to seek his death. In ancient biography, similar comparisons of the hero with his inferior opponents occur. The jealousy encountered by Moses prior to his first flight from Egypt (Philo, Life of Moses 1.46) and the envy successfully avoided by the humble actions of Agricola, which accounted for his longevity (Tacitus, Agricola 44), are two examples. [C]Common Intent to Praise The third element common to the encomium is the intent to praise and honor a great individual. Cornelius Nepos, in his life of Pelopidas, was concerned about building a case for greatness (16.1.1). Xenophon in Agesilaus endeavored to write an "appreciation of Agesilaus" that would be "worthy of his virtue and glory" (1.1). Philo, in his Life of Moses, sought to present "the story of this greatest and most perfect of men" (6.1-2,4). This chief aim of the laudatory biographers determined the content and arrangement of the materials with which they worked. In a manner characteristic of encomium, Matthew sought to focus on the following: (1) Jesus' prominent identity, (2) the significance of his words and deeds, and (3) the kind of response his readers should emulate towards him. This threefold purpose has parallels in Philo, Life of Moses, Lucian, Demonax, and Philostratus, Life of Apollonius. Matthew's distinctive focus might be in the type of response he wished to inspire in his readers: e.g., faith, praise, and obedience. In the narrative, Matthew progressively unfolds the identity of Jesus as the "Son of God." The importance of this identification is evident from the key positions it occupies in the text (e.g., 4:3,6; 14:33; 16:16; 26:63; 27:40,54). The authentication of this identity by numerous scriptural prophecies confirms for the reader the messianic identity of Jesus. The question asked of Peter, "whom do you say I am" (16:15), with its appropriate answer, "you are the Christ . . . " (v 16), is also asked of the reader. The second laudatory focus of Matthew is the recognition of Jesus' messianic activity. The summary of Jesus' messianic activity in Mt 4:23-25 serves as a programmatic statement which introduces both the Sermon on the Mount (5-7) and section on miracles (8-9). The proper response to this messianic activity is both heeding and doing what Jesus proclaims (7:24). To inspire emulation of the messiah's activity, chs. 1-9 constitute a paradigm of discipleship. There is no direct conflict during this period in Jesus' ministry. For Matthew this time of Jesus seems to be identical with the time of the reader, who is being taught and trained before being sent out (ch 10). The Gospel of Matthew seems to presuppose a three-epoch scheme: (a) time of Israel (Jewish Scriptures); (b) time of Jesus; and (c) time of the church (rules for church, mission to Gentiles, all ministry after the resurrection) with some overlap in the last two epochs (the presence of the exalted Christ with his church, Mt 28:20). See Kingsbury, Matthew (1977) 27-28; Meier, "Salvation-History in Matthew,” CBQ 37 (1975) 203-15. After announcing Jesus' messianic identity, Matthew presents his teaching on the Sermon on the Mount (cf. Lucian, Demonax). Matthew concludes chs 1-9 with important instruction for his readers on true discipleship (8:18-22; 9:10-13, 35-38). Only after such instruction is the disciple ready for commissioning (10). In a similar manner as Mt 1-9, chs 12-28 can be understood as providing a model for facing trials, since the teaching to the disciples in Mt 10 includes warnings of future opposition (vv 16-25). In the Lives of Eminent Philosophers, the life of Plato (3.1-45) is recounted, followed by a listing of his disciples (3.46-47) and a summary of his doctrine (3.47109). The same pattern is followed for other founders of philosophical schools (e.g., Pythagoras, Epicurus). In the Christian Life of Pachomius, the early part of the biography deals with the career of Pachomius, the founder of this particular monastic community. In section 117, he appoints Orsisius to succeed him. In sections 118-29 the life and teaching of Orsisius is recounted as one who emulates the life of Pachomius. Then Orsisius appoints Theodore as successor (130). For more discussion on these points, see the following works by Talbert: Gospel? 956; Literary Patterns 125-34; idem Acts (1984) 1-3. [B]The Hellenistic Genre Synkrisis /SYNKRISIS/ Compatible to the host genre being biography, and companionable with the common intent to praise is the skillfully integrated literary genre synkrisis (Latin: comparatio). The basis of seeing a synkrisis operative in the Christian gospels, especially Luke, but also probably Q See Robbins, Testing, esp. pp. 92-95; 135-140. On synkrisis, see also “comparison,” in Aune, WDNTECLR, 110 (includes a comparison of Christ and Melchizedek in Hebrews)., is the elaborate “comparison” made between Jesus and John. Aelius Theon of Alexandria (1st century B.C.E.), in writing about synkrisis in his Exercises (progymnasmata) says “Whenever we compare persons we shall first put side by side their good birth and education … after this we shall compare their actions.” Hermogenes of Tarsus (161–180 C.E.), another contributor to ancient rhetoric of comparison, says, “Synkrisis is comparison of similar or dissimilar things …we compare the cities from which the men came, and family with family and nurture with nurture and pursuits and deeds and external factors and manner of death and what follows death.” Translations by Kennedy, Progymnasmata (2003), 53, 83f. The term synkrisis occurs in Aristotle’s On Rhetoric, Dionysius Thax, & Philodemus, and is part of the discussions of comparisons along with the terms /eikōn/, /homoiōs/ and /parabolē/, (see discussion by McCall, Ancient Rhetorical Theories (1969). Synkrisis is a strange name for a genre, but it is descriptive, comprised of two words that imply the opposite of each other, making it something of a paradox: syn meaning together and krisis meaning separating. In this bringing together, a distinction or separation is made. The bringing together is John and Jesus, the separating or distinguishing is the purpose and achievement of the structure. Two characters are developed together in order to feature one or the other. In the pairing of the two in Luke (especially in the birth narrative), the goal is the exaltation of Jesus, a goal also of laudatory biography. To see the genre synkrisis operative in Luke where the host genre is some form of history/biography, and to see them both working towards the same goals, is a good exemplar of the mixtum compositum mentioned earlier, which is a feature of all of the texts of the New Testament. When two principal characters are conjoined in narrative such as John and Jesus are, artful possibilities exist for dynamic interface. Some hero stories from antiquity, using synkrisis (visible in the pairing of Jesus and John), effect with the pairing of the characters what has been the “second-self” of the hero. While not a pervasive motif, its presence in The Epic of Gilgamesh and The Iliad has been much discussed. Some of the literature on this theme: T. van Nortwick, Hero’s Journey in Ancient Epic (1992); Nagy, Best of the Achaean (1979) esp. ch. 2; N. Van Brock, “Substitution Rituelle,” RHA 65 (1959)117–146; Keppler, Literature of the Second Self, (1972); Campbell, Hero with a Thousand Faces, (1949); Devereux, “Achilles’ ‘Suicide’ in the Iliad” Helios 6 (1978) 3–15; Rogers, The Double in Literature, (1970); Griffin, Homer on Life and Death, (1980). It is a narrative technique for describing such things as the nature of the hero, plotting the direction and nature of his growth, isolating and articulating his weaknesses and strengths, often becoming the manner in which he confronts himself. In its most simple form, the hero is the subject of the story, and the "second-self" is a foil for chronicling his development, preparing him for his destiny. The relationship that exists and is developed between the two is the narrative dynamic, and can be as complex and strategic as the sophistication of the author and his tradition will allow. Definitions are diverse, but seem to be related. For Van Nortwick, the second-self is essentially a hero's companion in the narrative. Enkidu is Gilgemesh's second-self in The Epic of Gilgamesh; Patroclus is Achilles' second-self in The Iliad, etc. In both cases the ‘second self’ is a comrade, friend and mate. For Van Brock it is an alter ego, "un autre soi-même." The Greek word /therapōn/ is traced by her to the Hittite tarpassa-/ tarpan(alli) - 'ritual substitute,' which converges upon the almost universal presence of the motif of death, an historical connection with which Nagy concurs. Nagy, Best of the Achaeans, p.292. In the Iliad (XVI.241-245) Achilles prays to Zeus for Patroclus, who has donned Achille’s armor and is about to engage in battle with Hector: “Far seeing Zeus! Let the glory of victory go forth with him. Make him breathe courage from inside, so that Hector too will find out whether our therapōn knows how to fight in battle alone, or whether his hands rage invincible only those times when I myself enter the struggle of Ares.” Patroclus fell in battle, was unequal to Achilles, being “the recessive equivalent of the dominant hero” (292). But as therapon to Achilles, Patroclus was far more than merely an attendant or companion (uses of the word otherwise attested in the Iliad) but apparently could not fight alone. He was Achille’s equal only as a shadow is the equal of the substance. But he compelled Achilles into the battle. Tragedy, such as death, is usually a fundamental dimension of the experience of the hero and his significant other. Enkidu’s death forced Gilgamesh to face his own mortality. Achilles refused to face his own destiny as a hero of the Achaeans and to do battle with Hector, until Patroclus died brutally at Hector’s hands. This pairing and dynamic is visible in the interface that occurs between John and Jesus. It is exhibitive, not eccentric, to base much of the interaction between John and Jesus upon this motif, especially in Luke, where there is sustained dialogue involving them both. John provides focus for our perception of Jesus, from the leap in the womb at their prenatal encounter (Luke 1:41) The synkrisis between the two begins in grand style with Luke comparing their births (See discussion in Nolland, Luke1-9:20, 19-22). , to his baptism of him and declamation about this “coming one” who is “stronger” This designation of Jesus as “stronger” /ischuraturos/ in 3:16 is a recurring quality, perhaps even a title, which appears in contexts relating to both friend and foe (see 11:22 where it appears in the Parable of the Strong Man). (Luke 3), to his confused queries about what he is doing (Luke 7). But Jesus, in step, seems to be just as occupied with John: from his speech to the crowds about John’s unparalleled greatness (Luke 7), to his repeated encounter with John’s legacy of fame and fear from both the crowds (Luke 9:19) and political authorities (9:7), to his use of John as a foil of protection when under attack from the leaders in Jerusalem (20:1-8). John was so important to Jesus that Jesus even hinges ‘ages’ on him, as we have done with Jesus (Luke 16:16). So it would seem that quantity of material is not nearly as important as the structural relationship of the material. In the increasing complexity of the gospel stories of Matthew, Mark and Luke, the potential of this relationship is enlarged. H. J. de Jonge, “Sonship, Wisdom, Infancy.” NTS 24 (1978) 317–354; Kirchschläger, “Beobachtungen zur Struktur der lukanischen Vorgeschichten Lk 1–2.” Bibliothèque liturgique 57 (1984): 244–251; Minear, “Die Funktion der Kindheitsgeschichten im Werk Lukas”, Pages 204–235 in Braumann (Hg.) Das Lukas-Evangelium. Bd. 280, (1974); Stöger, “Spiritualität der lukanischen Kindheitsgeschichte” in Geist und Leben 36 (1963) 404–417; Tatum, “Die Zeit Israels,” Pages 317–336 in Braumann (Hg.) Das Lukas-Evangelium; Talbert, “Immortals in Mediterranean Antiquity.” JBL 94 (1975): 419–36; idem., “Prophecies of Future Greatness,” Pages 129–140 in Divine Helmsman (1980); Diefenbach, Die Komposition des Lukasevangeliums (1993). Minear reviews scholarly efforts at interpreting the infancy narrative, criticizing the tendency to either study the Lucan corpus in isolation from these narratives (Conzelmann) or vice versa. He then reviews scholarship which has argued for the inclusion of “the childhood history” (der Kindheitsgeschichten) in the exegesis of the Lucan corpus. In any pairing of Jesus and John, the first two chapters of Luke are a programmatic introduction, without which an entire dynamic would be lost. The value of Talbert's essays for the proposal of a synkrisis here is the degree to which he helps verify Luke's familiarity with the complex generic characteristics of hellenistic hero stories. While he may get a little ambitious at times, he has understood exactly the functions of these stories and has been willing to credit a NT author with the competence to understand as well. Diefenbach provides a full-blown defense and exhibition (darstellung) of Luke's competence in ancient rhetoric, and an interpretation of the text as a hero story focusing more on achievement than historical information. The role of the Baptist in this story is important . Describing Luke’s “quasi-biography” of the Baptist as providing a sense of direction and paradigm to the developing narrative- life-path (Jesuserzählkreises) of Jesus, and quoting Cadbury (Making of Luke-Acts, 44) who says "in birth, in ministry and in martyrdom he is the complete forerunner of Jesus" (Cadbury, Making of Luke-Acts, 44), Diefenbach provides this insightful macrostructure: The commission from God to the Baptist (Lk 3:2) The commission from God to Jesus (Lk 3:21-4:13) Public works of the Baptist (Lk 3:7-18). Public works of Jesus (Lk 4:14-19:48). The imprisonment of the Baptist (Lk 3:19-20). The passion of Jesus (Lk 20:1-23:56). The resurrection, appearances and ascension of Jesus Christ (Lk 24:1-53). What is being suggested here is that this macrostructure, combined with the motif of Jesus growth, development, and discourses about John, leaves John in the role of the hero's mentor, second self, and perhaps his guide. I don't think that Diefenbach has made that claim. 22It was after John’s death (Matt 14:3–12; Mark 6:17–29) that Jesus withdrew from Galilee, and, one may assume, from the crowds to Tyre and Sidon, and Caesarea Philippi (cf. Matt 15:21; 16:13; Mark 7:24; 8:27). This change in locale would have taken him (at least) out of Herod Antipas’ jurisdiction, to the sanctuary of his (half) brother Philip’s Tetrarchy. Several interesting things happen here. From the leap in the womb, to the role of John’s death in changing the geographical route, personal focus It was during this retreat that Jesus asked his disciples about himself, and in response to their answers began speaking of his own death (Mark 8:31 par; 9:31 par; 10:33–34 par). and pedagogical axis It is on this retreat also that Jesus articulates that to follow him requires the loss of one’s life, the carrying of a cross (Mark 8:34–9:1 par), and servant-hood to the point of death (Mark 9: 33–37 par; 10:35–45 par). of Jesus, John is a forerunner, helping to prepare Jesus for his destiny. Finding such a synkrisis in Luke does not surprise anyone. But finding it in Q might indeed! [B]The Biographical Genre: Conclusions Much of what we have concluded about Matthew and laudatory biography is, as we have seen, applicable to the other Gospels and Acts. One can hardly deny to Mark, Luke, and John, the basic bios pattern that we find in Matthew. Mark's Gospel, for example, is a major source for both Matthew's and Luke’s outline of Jesus' ministry. Also, both Luke and Matthew contain redactional additions that are of a biographical nature (e.g., birth, infancy, ancestry) and employ many of the same topoi and literary techniques that seek to glorify Jesus. [A]The Dramatic Genre: A Comparison with Mark Let us explore one final ancient genre: tragic drama. For English translations and critical discussions of Greek and Roman drama, see Oates and O'Neill, eds., Complete Greek Drama 2 vols. (1938) and Duckworth, ed., Complete Roman Drama, 2 vols. (1942). For the Greek and Latin texts, see the LCL. For comparisons of Mark and Greek Tragedy, see Bilezikian, Liberated Gospel; Burch, 'Tragic Action in the Second Gospel," JR 11 (1931) 346-58; Stock, Call to Discipleship (1982); Stone, “Gospel of Mark and Oedipus the King,” Soundings 67 (Nashville, 1/84) 55-69; see discussion of “tragic history” in Aune, NTLE, 83-4. Why would any of the Gospels be regarded as drama? Certainly the Gospels were designed for sectarian reading, not stage presentation. And they were written in colloquial prose, not in poetic verse as most dramas were; and even though large sections of the Gospels consist of dialogue, it is more conversational and less poetic than most dramatic dialogue. And finally, they were both too long and lacked songs. [B]Reasons for a Comparison with Mark Despite the above differences, there are a number of significant reasons for comparing the Gospels, especially Mark, with tragic drama. First, both were religious in origin and dealt with religious questions. Second, drama was so prevalent and influential in the Roman era that the Gospel writers must have been acquainted with it. Third, by that time period, drama had become diverse enough in form and function to include a work like Mark's Gospel, written by a religious teacher for a sectarian audience. Fourth, the Gospel of Mark tends to follow many of the basic components of Greek tragedy outlined in the influential Aristotle's Poetics. [C]A Well-known Genre By the Roman period, drama was prevalent throughout the Mediterranean world. Theaters, where comedies and tragedies were performed by a chorus and actors before a live audience, have been discovered in Italy, Greece, France, Asia Minor, Egypt, Syria, Palestine, and Phoenicia. Unlike its modern descendant, ancient drama was connected with religion. Drama was also studied in the classroom. Marrou, History of Education in Antiquity 161-65, 277-78, 403-4. Wherever Hellenism took root, there existed educational institutions to transmit the Greek literary heritage. Therefore, the Gospel writers were probably familiar with ancient drama, as well as other classical literature. [C]A Diverse Genre The form and function of ancient drama also became diverse during the Roman period. There were literary or "closet plays" written for small select groups instead of the public theater. Most of these "closet dramas" were not written by dramatic poets but by philosophers and historiographers who generally used them as a medium for propagating their teachings. Some of these closet plays reflected contemporary historical events. Some examples are: the nine dramas attributed to the Stoic philosopher, Seneca; the play of Daniel and Susanna by the Jewish historiographer, Nicolaus of Damascus; the Latin drama, Octavia, reflecting the turbulent reign of Emperor Nero. Therefore Mark's Gospel could not be excluded from the category of drama, simply because it was not written by a dramatic poet for public stage presentation. [C]A Misunderstood Genre The Gospels, especially Mark, share more basic components with Greek tragedy than with comedy. Although some of his actions and his associations with the "riffraff" might recall ancient comedy, D. O. Via, Kerygma and Comedy 100. Jesus' purpose and fate in Mark qualify him as a tragic hero. This Gospel also follows many of the components of tragedy outlined in Aristotle's Poetics. Whatever the relationship of the Gospels to Greek tragedy, it is an over simplification to associate ancient tragedy only with disaster and misfortune. The religious soul of tragedy has been described as the affirmation of moral order, the assertion of transcendence, the mimesis of sacrifice, and faith in the overruling of justice. The tragic element does not necessitate the destruction of the whole world. In fact, "the stormy heavens may break to shed the light of salvation." Bilezikian, Liberated Gospel 26-27. See also discussion in Hengel, “Literary,Theological, and Historical Problems,” Gospel and Gospels, 213-17. [B]Points of Comparison with Mark Now we will see to what extent Mark follows the characteristics of Greek tragedy as outlined in Aristotle's Poetics. Although the views of this influential philosopher of the fourth century BC are not infallible, they are a helpful guide to the basic features of Greek tragedy as understood in antiquity. Aristotle's Poetics reveals a keen perception of Greek tragedy, and it is possible that his widely acclaimed views on the subject influenced the subsequent writing of tragedy. Aristotle held that tragedy was basically an imitation of human beings in action rather than the disposition of the characters (Poetics 6.2). Chapters and verses of Aristotle's Poetics follow LCL. See also Lucas, Tragedy in Relation to Aristotle's "Poetics," rev. ed. (1958). Therefore, for him, the most important component of tragedy was its plot, which supplies the action in the play (6.12-18). According to Aristotle, the plot in a tragedy includes a complication and denouement (18.1). The complication, or "tying of the knot” includes the incidents from the beginning of the story to the point just before the change in the hero's situation. The denouement or "untying of the knot," consists of everything from the beginning of the change to the end (18.1-3). In Aristotle's plot-structure scheme, the transition between complication and denouement is called the crisis or turning point. It brings about the change in the course of action. To summarize what has taken place before the beginning of the play there is a "prologue" or opening scene. An "epilogue" also closes the play and is generally brief. Complication-denouement plot structure, prologue, and epilogue are evident in most Greek and Roman plays. Like most Greek plays, Mark's Gospel begins with a prologue (1:1-13). This convention of providing an introduction and background for the contemporary audience is found in most tragedies (e.g., Hippolytus, Ajax). The entrance of the protagonist, Jesus, is announced by John the Baptist who soon leaves the scene (1:2-9). The statements of the messianic identity of Jesus (1:1,11), the prophetic expectation (1:2-3), and the conflict with evil (1:13), set the tone and inform the audience of the subject matter. In the complication (1:14-8:26), Jesus is unable to proclaim his messiahship because his contemporaries are unable to recognize the nature of his vocation. Instead, he discloses it only to those who have "eyes to see and ears to hear." Jesus proclaims God's reign and performs various miracles. But those around him fail to perceive the significance of his words and deeds. Their conceptions of a political messiah or great miracle worker have blinded their understanding. The dramatic tension created by the complication of the unrecognized messiah is partially relaxed when the disciples begin to recognize the messianic identity of Jesus (8:27-30). This pericope of Peter's confession at Caesarea Philippi serves as the crisis, or turning point, of the narrative. As a result of Peter's confession, the plot moves to its resolution or denouement (8:31-15:47). The ministry of Jesus now has a central focus: the accomplishment of his messianic task. The denouement unfolds along two lines: (1) Jesus prepares the disciples for his death, and (2) the opponents succeed in putting him to death. Jesus instructs his disciples on the necessity of his suffering and death, but they fail to understand and desert him when he is arrested. After Jesus has effectively challenged the Jewish leaders, they succeed in their scheme to kill him. Even though the death of Jesus was a tragic act, it was also the accomplished goal of his messianic mission. It was a goal to which he, as a tragic hero, nobly submitted. Mark 16:1-8 serves as an effective closure or epilogue. As in the prologue, the contemporary audience of Mark is addressed in the scene. The audience is informed of the successful outcome of the protagonist by a young man (messenger): "He has risen, he is not here . . . but go tell his disciples . . . that he is going before you to Galilee, there you will see him." (16:6-7). This finale is a dramatic counterpoint to the denouement (the necessity of the Messiah's death). The young man's message is directed to the audience as well as the women at the tomb. The audience also shares with the women the response of fear and awe at this final scene. The brief and sudden closure (16:8) appears to evoke a dramatic suddenness that leaves the audience pondering over the meaning of the story. A stage suddenly left vacant by the character is an acceptable and effective device for ending tragedies. This dramatic effect is achieved in the endings of Aeschylus's Choerphoroe (i.e., Libation Bearers), Eumenides (Benevolent Beings) and Seneca's Troades (Trojan Women). See also Bilezikian, Liberated Gospel 135-36; Stock, Call to Discipleship 50-53. Following his essential component of plot, Aristotle's second component of tragedy is character or ethos (6:9). Although his understanding is not limited to it, much of Aristotle's discussion presupposes one dominant figure or hero, which is typical in most tragedies. According to Aristotle, the tragic hero should be: (a) characterized by moral purpose, (b) true to type (appropriate), (c) realistic, and (d) consistent in character throughout the play (15.1-6). Aristotle also mentioned that the main character or hero should be of high station and good fortune (13.6). He continues with his noteworthy statement: "This is the sort of man who is not pre eminently virtuous and just" and yet it is through no evil or villainy of his own that he falls into misfortune, but rather through some "flaw in him" (13.5). Aristotle's mention of "not pre-eminently virtuous and just," coincides with his discussion of appropriate and realistic characterization. Aristotle's reference to the hero's falling into misfortune by some "flaw in him," does not connote moral deficiency, but some error of judgment (Gk. hamartia). It may even consist of a moral bent or quality that is turned into a liability for the hero in unusual circumstances. For example, in Hippolytus by Euripides, it was the determination of young Hippolytus to resist temptation and remain chaste for the goddess Artemis that caused his downfall. Also, in Oedipus the King by Sophocles, it is the tragic hero's obsession to know the truth that revealed his own crime. See Bilezikian, Liberated Gospel 110; Mandel, Definition of Tragedy (1961) 114, Jesus had a certain hybris, passion or obsession, typical of prophets and tragic heroes. In Mark's Gospel, Jesus appears as the tragic hero. His words and deeds are typical of a messianic prophet of first-century Palestine. Exclusive titles, like "Son of God/7 are used to enhance the nobility of his character. The humanness of his feelings and perceptions gives us a realistic portrayal. The moral purpose of Jesus is consistently depicted in his unshakable determination to fulfill his work. Jesus' drive to complete his mission, his refusal to escape his fate, and his passive acceptance of violence, however, can also be viewed as heroic moral qualities turned into liability and misfortune by an exceptional set of circumstances (i.e., hamartia). Aristotle's third component of tragedy is the "element of thought" or the message of the play. It should be intelligible and evoke the appropriate response from the listener (19.2-8). The literary techniques of arrangement in Mark's Gospel also imply a concern for the proper transmission of ideas and the responses they should elicit from the reader. Diction, or the choice of words, expressions, and style figured prominently in Aristotle's discussion (19.7-22.19). He recommended that diction be clear and not commonplace, a style worthy of tragedy but not so ornamental as to be unintelligible (22.1). This advice was important since ancient tragedy was intended for public oral presentation. The choice of vocabulary and style in Mark's Gospel accords with Aristotle's recommendation that clarity in expression should have priority over nobility in form. "Mark's style and syntax produce an effect of actuation similar to the animated reality of dramatic performances." Bilezikian, Liberated Gospel 113. Based on his discussion of the levels of “genre” and their mixing with other lesser “modes,” in What Are the Gospels? ( 2004) 38-67, Burridge would allow Mark as a bios of Jesus to also have a tragic “mode” 239-40. The following can be cited as examples: descriptive use of the Greek historical present, the impression of immediacy with auxiliary verbs of action, use of direct discourse and imperatives to intensify dramatic situations, vividly described scenes, and realism. The Koine Greek of Mark also has close affinities with the spoken dialect of everyday life. Aristotle himself pointed out the similarities between the typical "iambic meter" of Greek tragedy and conversational dialogue (Poetics 4.18-19). Furthermore, it was noted earlier that dramatic poetry contains colloquial expressions and descriptive verbs not unlike those of Mark's Gospel. Aristotle's fifth and sixth components of spectacle and song, are not directly relevant to Mark's Gospel. Both melody (singing and dance) and spectacle (stage presentation) lost much of their prominence in the Roman period. The literary plays by Seneca, which do not emphasize these components, are an example. The Gospel of Mark also contains many literary techniques of tragedy mentioned by Aristotle. Concerning the plot (Poetics 11), Aristotle recommended achieving the ideal tragic effect, (which was, for him, the arousing of pity and fear) by the following three ways: discovery (Mk 8:27-30), reversal of situation (8:31-33) and suffering or pathos (14:43-15:32). Concerning other literary devices, there are at least seven parallels: the use of irony or paradox (1:11-13; 16:6), foreshadowings or forewarnings of disaster (3:6; 8:31), forensic debates between protagonists and antagonists (11:27-33; 12:13-27), hyporcheme (song and dance) or outbursts of joy (11:7-10), final oracles of judgment on antagonists (13), messengers (1:4-9; 16:5-7), and deus ex machina (Lat. "god from the machine"), a divine or human character brought out to resolve quickly some desperate situation in the play (16:5-7). [B]The Dramatic Genre: Conclusion The foregoing analysis indicates that Mark corresponds with many of Aristotle's characteristics of Greek tragedy. Furthermore, the prevalence of the genre in the Roman world, and its diversity which included literary or closet plays, contribute to the similarities of Mark's Gospel with the ancient category of tragic drama. Certainly there are other ancient genres with which Mark could be compared. Our purpose in this section was to show that the content of Mark's Gospel is diverse enough to include characteristics from the genre of tragic drama. [A]The Gospel of John and Genre [B]John and the Synoptics: A Comparison [C]Differences When we read the Gospel of John we seem to enter a different narrative world than that of the Synoptic Gospels. In contrast to the synoptics, John introduces us to a distinctly different Jesus: the preexistent Logos (Word) who is God's only Son, the Lamb of God, messiah, and king of Israel (Jn 1). In the Fourth Gospel, we do not find the straight forward Synoptic parables of Jesus, but rather a few complex allegories. The concise Synoptic aphorisms have become extended discourses in the form of dramatic dialogues or monologues (Jn 4; 9; 10). The miracle stories are limited to seven "signs" that glorify Jesus and teach the meaning of belief. John's emphasis on the Judean ministry of Jesus is evident by the five trips Jesus makes to Jerusalem (2:13; 5:1; 7:10; 10:22,23; 12:12) in contrast to one visit in Mark (Mk 11) and two in Luke (Lk 2:22; 19:45). In Mk 1:14, Jesus7 ministry begins as John the Baptist is imprisoned; whereas in Jn 3:24 the two preachers work side by side. According to the Synoptic Gospels, the temple was cleansed at the close of Jesus' ministry (Mk 11:15-19; Lk 19:45-46; Mt 21:12-13); in John's account it occurs at the beginning (2:13-22). The dialogue on the eating of flesh and drinking of blood (Jn 6) replaces the Last Supper words in the Synoptic tradition (e.g., Mk 14:17-25). John also includes a long farewell discourse of Jesus (chs 13-17) related to the Synoptic prayer at Gethsemane (e.g., Mk 14:32-42). The Synoptic Gospels agree that the crucifixion of Jesus took place on the Passover (Nisan 15), but John has it before the Passover to coincide with the sacrifice of lambs (Jn 1:29,36; 19:30-37). Finally, the length of Jesus' ministry in John is at least three years, whereas in the Synoptic tradition it appears to b*e only one. It becomes evident from a comparison of John with the Synoptic Gospels that the structural arrangement and thematic emphases of the former are distinctive. John 1:19-12:50 seems to be built around the theme of signs (2:11; 4:54; 12:37); chs 13-17 are thematic discourses and a prayer, and chs 18:1-20:31 are a passion narrative. In distinction from the Synoptic tradition, we also find in John a high Christology (e.g., preexistent Word), a moral dualism (light/darkness, life/death), an emphasis on faith, the presence of the Paraclete (chs 14-16), and realized eschatology (e.g., 3:1719; 11:25-26). The Gospel of John also contains stories and discourses not found in the Synoptic Gospels: the wedding at Cana (2:1-11), the narratives concerning Nicodemus (3:1-21) and the Samaritan woman (4:7-42), the heal ing at the pool of Bethzatha (5:1-9), the healing of the man born blind (9:1-12), the raising of Lazarus (11:1-44), and Jesus' farewell discourse and prayer (13-17). [C]Similarities Despite numerous differences, there are noteworthy similarities. Narratives that John has in common with the Synoptic Gospels are: the call of the disciples (1:35-51), the healing of the official's son (4:46-53), the feeding of the multitude followed by a sea crossing miracle (6:1-21), Peter's confession (6:66-70), the entry into Jerusalem (12:12-15), the cleansing of the temple (2:13-22), the anointing at Bethany (12:1-8), the Last Supper with a prophecy of betrayal (13:1-11), and the basic story of the passion. Events in John that follow Mark's sequence are: [NL1-9] (1) The work of the Baptist (2) Jesus' departure to Galilee (3) The feeding of a multitude (4) Walking on the water (5) Peter's confession (6) The departure to Jerusalem (7) The entry into Jerusalem and the anointing (order rearranged in John) (8) The Supper with predictions of betrayal and denial (9) The arrest and the passion narrative The feeding and sea miracles followed by a discourse on bread in John also has parallels with a double cycle tradition in Mark: [NLa-d] Mark Mark John (a) Feeding 6:30-44 (4000) 8:1-10 (5000) 6:1-14 (5000) (b) Sea crossing 6:45-56 8:10 6:16-21 (c) Controversy 7:1-13 8:11-13 6:15 (d) Teaching on Bread 7:14-23 8:14-21 6:22-51 Even though there are verbal differences in the above three accounts, the similar order and themes seem to indicate a common cycle of tradition. There are also similarities between the Markan and Johannine passion narratives. [NLa-e] Mark John (a) The anointing for burial 14:3-9 12:2-8 with similar vocabulary (b) Prediction of betrayal 14:18-21, 13:21-30, and denial The bracketing of John's account of the trial by the narrative of Peter's denial, precisely as it appears in Mark, argues favorably for John's dependency on Mark or a pre-Markan tradition. 27-31 36-38 (c) Trial before high priest 14:54 [55-65] 18:15-18 [19- in the context of Peter's 66-72 24] 25-27 denial (d) Pilate and the "king of 15:2-15 18:33-39 the Jews" (e) Aspects of the crucifixion 15:20-37 19:16-30 Verbal Parallels Mark John (a)"Rise take up your pallet and go 2:11 5:8 home" (different paralytics addressed) (b) bread worth two hundred denariii 6:37 6:7 (c) "a pound (jar) of costly 14:3 12:3 ointment of pure nard" Theatron or Koilon Klimakes Klimakes Kerkis Kerkis Throne of Priest of Dionysus Diagram of Greek theater at Epidaurus. Taken from W. J. Oates and E. O'Neil, Jr., The Complete Greek Drama, vol. 1. © 1938 by Random House. Used with permission. The use of identical words and phrases lends further support to the view that John was familiar with either Mark's Gospel or traditions used by Mark. Some think that John knew of Luke’s Gospel, only Barrett I think. See the review essay of Klaus Scholtissek who says that concensus is swinging towards John’s familiarity of the Synoptic Gospels (p.445). Another literary source relationship seems apparent when John and Luke are compared in the story of the anointing (Jn 12:3-8; Lk 7:36-50). In Jn 12, the two unusual actions of Mary are explainable if John knew Luke's simpler version. In John she first anoints the feet of Jesus then dries them with her hair (!), whereas in Luke the woman wipes Jesus' feet with her hair before anointing them. John's version seems more complicated and unusual. Luke's account is simpler and less problematic. Luke is also the earliest Gospel to include the two ritualistic acts. In Mk 14:3-9, for example, the woman only anoints Jesus' head with no mention of wiping his feet with her hair. Therefore, it seems plausible, that the author of John derived both acts of footwashing and anointing from Luke and added his own curious changes which we read in Jn 12:3-8. Even if John was familiar with the Synoptic Gospels, he did not follow them closely. See discussion on John and the Synoptics by: Kysar in Fourth Evangelist and His Gospel (1975) 54-66; idem, "The Gospel of John in Current Research," RelStRev 9 (4, 1983) 315-16; Keener, John 1:40-42; Scholtissek “The Johannine Gospel” 444-472. [B]The Dramatic Genre: A Comparison with John's Gospel In our comparison of the Gospel of Mark with Greek tragedy, we stressed the similarities between ancient drama and gospel. Like the Gospel of Mark, John's Gospel may also be viewed as a tragedy. See the following works on the dramatic character of John: Connick, "The Dramatic Character of John," JBL 67 (2, 1948) 159-69; Lee "The Drama of the Fourth Gospel" ExpT 65 (1953-54) 173-76; Domeris, "The Johannine Drama," JTSA 42 (March 1983) 29-35; Flanagan, "The Gospel of John as Drama," BibToday 14 (4, 1981) 264-70; Smalley, Evangelist 192ff; Witheringtron, John’s Wisdom, 4-5. An application of Aristotle's theory of tragedy to the Fourth Gospel is likewise appropriate. [C]An Application of Aristotle's Theory John's Prologue. John's prologue (Jn 1:1-18), like most Greek tragedies, provides an introduction and background for the contemporary audience. John's stylistic use of third person singular and plural is reminiscent of the prolegomenon recited by the chorus in Aeschylus' Supplicants. The content of the prologue also recalls the opening speech in Euripides' Hippolytus, where the goddess Aphrodite describes her power and reign before sketching some of the events up to the drama. In John's prologue, the divine identity and preexistence of the Logos (Word) sets the tone and informs the audience. Then John the Baptist announces the entrance of Jesus the central character. John's Plot Complication. The Gospel of John conveniently breaks down into the plot structure of: complication (Jn 1:19-12:19), crisis (12:20-26), and denouement (12:27-20:31). In the complication (1:19-2:19), the audience is immediately drawn into the drama of the divine mission of Jesus the Son of God. The different characters (e.g., Nathanael, Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, the Jews) typify the responses of belief or unbelief to Jesus' identity and mission. The "hours" (2:4; 8:20; "time" 7:6, 8, 30) unfold the story's plot by raising the questions: when will the hour of Jesus arrive? Why could he not attend a certain feast or be arrested— before his time had come? The statements which envelope the complication section (1:14 and 11:40) raise the question: how will God's glory be revealed? The "signs" that Jesus performed manifest God's glory (2:11), but reach a climax in "the hour" when "the Son of Man should be glorified" (12:23). Suspense in the drama is caused by the unbelief and hate of both the Jews and the world (5:16-18,42-47; 8:37-59; 10:19-20,31-33). The schemes and attempts to kill Jesus appear to both jeopardize (8:59; 10:31-33, 39; 11:8) and expedite (11:47-53) the accomplishment of Jesus' mission. Although his disciples are given clues about the "hour" of Jesus' glorification (11:40; 12:7) before ch 12:20-26, the audience has been informed throughout the drama (1:29; 3:14-15; 8:28; 10:11,17; 11:50; 12:16). The disciples and other characters in the story are like those in Sophocles' Oedipus the King who follow their roles unaware of the full story which is known to the audience. John's Plot Crisis. The crisis occurs with the coming of the Greeks (Jn 12:20-26). Their entry was hinted at in Jn 7:35. The many references to the "hour/time" (of glorification 2:4; 5:25,28; 7:6,30; 8:20) make the statements in Jn 12:23 a climactic discovery: "the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified!" In accordance with Aristotle's recommendations of achieving ideal tragic effect in the plot (Poetics 10-11), the crisis of John (as in Mk 8:27-33) consists of the discovery of the hero's tragic role (Jn 12:23), anticipated reversal of the hero's situation (life to death, 12:24, 25), and his subsequent pathos or suffering (12:27; 13:21; 19). John's Plot Denouement. As a result of Jesus' disclosure, the plot moves to its resolution or denouement (12:27-20:31). The denouement has two lines of development: (1) preparing the disciples for Jesus' glorification and departure (Jn 14-17) and (2) the success of the opposition in putting Jesus to death (18-19). The Fourth Evangelist, like Sophocles, uses the well-known farewell discourse form to accomplish the denouement of his plot. Despite its numerous ancient parallels (e.g., Gen 47-49; Dt 31-33; T 12 Patr; Plato, Phaedo), the farewell discourse of Jesus (e.g., Jn 14:18-21) seems to recall the farewell address in Sophocles' Oedipus at Colon: To his wailing daughters he says, "My children, today your father leaves you. This is the end of all that I was, and the end of your task of caring for me. I know how hard it was. Yet it was made lighter by one word—love. I loved you as no one else has done. Now you must live on without me." Both Jn 14:18-21 and the passage from Oedipus at Colon speak of the departure of the father/master, the nearness of the end, and the importance of the ethic of love. Even though the parallels are typical of the genre and the differences are evident (e.g., Oedipus leaves little hope of his return), the concentration of similar themes in two similar passages is noteworthy. Both John and Sophocles appear to use a similar farewell discourse form to accomplish the denouements of their respective plots. The chief antagonist who brings about Jesus' arrest is Judas, whom Satan has possessed (Jn 6:70-71; 13:2,26-27). It is through Judas (and his Jewish collaborators) that the "ruler of this world," the "evil one" is revealed (14:30; 16:11; 17:12,15). The trial scenes provide the forensic debates with the accusers and judges serving as foils for the hero (18:12-19:16). The forensic setting of John is similar to that of Prometheus Bound by Aeschylus. In that play, the attention is on Prometheus and the question of his guilt for breaking a rule of Zeus, i.e., giving humans the knowledge of making fire. The "hour" of glorification (17:1,4) is accomplished with Christ lifted up on the cross (19:25-27). The somber setting of the burial scene (19:3820:11) is enlivened by the surprise appearance of the Lord (20:16ff.; cause for song and dance, hyporcheme). He now affirms the faith of his disciples and bestows on them the Holy Spirit (20:21f.). John's Epilogue. The epilogue or closing narration (20:30-31) We regard John 21 to be a later addition to the tragic drama of which Jn 1:1-18 was already an intrinsic (although added) part. functions like the brief concluding chorus in a Greek tragedy which often summarizes its contents (e.g., Sophocles’ Antigone; Euripides’ Medea; Hippolytus). [C]Common Motifs John's Gospel also shares at least six motifs with Greek tragedies, some of which we have already mentioned. First, the content of the prologue (Jn 1:1-18) resembles of the opening speech in Euripides' Hippolytus, where the goddess Aphrodite describes her power and reign before sketching some of the events leading up to the drama. Second, the sign performed by Jesus at Cana (Jn 2:1-11) recalls the actions of the god Dionysius who also transformed water into wine (Euripides’, Bacchae 704-7). Third, the motif of the vicarious suffering of Jesus (Jn 1:29; 10:11, 17-18; 11:50; 12:16, 23-24; 15:13; 19:36-37) is reminiscent of the self-sacrifice of Alcestis who died in place of her husband Admetus (Euripides, Alcestis). Fourth, the farewell discourse of Jesus (e.g., Jn 14:18-21) recalls the farewell address in Sophocles' Oedipus at Colon. In this play, a messenger relays to the daughters of Oedipus, the king's farewell words explaining the necessity of his absence from them, the great love he has for them, and the need for them to carry on without him (1585-1658). Oates and O'Neill, Complete Greek Drama 1:664-65. Even the theme of universal love (e.g., Jn 15) is found in Sophocles' Antigone 522-523. The motif of union with God (Jn 14; 17) also has parallels in Sophocles' Oedipus the King 314 and Oedipus at Colon 247. Fifth, the trial scenes in John (18:12-19:16) are reminiscent of the forensic debates in Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound. The play focuses on the question of the guilt and punishment of Prometheus for his breaking a rule of Zeus by giving humans the knowledge of making fire. Sixth, the motif of the risen Christ who avoids being touched (John 20:17) recalls the play Alcestis by Euripides. Alcestis is brought back from the dead but cannot speak to her husband until she is consecrated after three days (1140-1150). The above six motifs are only a selection. For other similar motifs of John and Greek tragedies see Barrett, John, 2nd ed. (1978) 380, 444, 474, 520; J. Brant, Greek Tragedy in the Fourth Gospel (2004), the author who studied both classical and theater criticism notes that dialogue in tragedies is always between two or three actors and a collective voice – the same style of dialogue used in John’s Gospel, which functions in many ways is a performance text. Some may be coincidental, and others could reflect John's acquaintance with Greek tragedy, since this form of drama was prevalent in the Roman world. It would also be understandable for the Fourth Gospel to share some motifs with other Greek plays, if John is a type of Greek tragedy. In conclusion, we have looked at several generic possibilities in our attempt to understand the gospels in their ancient context. The gospels as ancient biographies and Acts as Hellenistic historiography, for example, carry generic weight for many today and perhaps those in antiquity. Nevertheless, Walter J. Ong’s cautionary note about literary genre has relevance for both ancient and modern literature: “Just as a poem or other work of art as word resists complete framing as an ‘object’ thought of as clearly and distinctly outlined in space, so it resists complete framing in terms of types and genres. For these represent an attempt to define, to delimit, to mark off… which can never be entirely satisfactory.”4 40 Ong,S.J., “A dialectic of aural and objective correlatives” (1958) in 20th Cent. Lit. Crit., 505.0 Father Ong’s warning should not discourage the pursuit of generic studies regarding the New Testament books, but rather mitigate our attempts to limit or define through overconfidence in the clarity of our criteria regarding the style, structure, or intent of these ancient writings of renown that still challenge each generation of readers with the question “what does this mean?” (Acts 2:12b).