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#56: “What does the Koran say about Jesus?” by Brendon Wahlberg
The recent news story about a proposed Koran burning made me wonder… should a church be burning a book which contains stories about Jesus? I knew that the Koran included several figures from the Bible, so I began to ask what the Koran actually says about Jesus. Although I have studied the Bible for many years, I approached the topic of the Koran as a beginner, determined to learn if there is any common ground between what the two Holy books say about the central figure of Christianity.
First, a few Koran basics are in order. The Koran (also written as Qur’an) is the scripture of the religion of Islam, and contains the word of God, Allah, as spoken to the prophet Mohammed (also written as Muhammad) by the angel Gabriel. Mohammed was born in 570CE in Mecca. When the prophet was about forty, while he was praying and meditating in a cave, Gabriel began to recite the words to him that would become the Koran (Koran means “recital”). Mohammed wrote the words on paper, bones, leaves, skins, stones, and bark. Sometimes his followers memorized the words. The revelation continued for about twenty years, when Mohammed finally died in Medina in 632CE. About twenty years after his death, his followers began to compile the Koran as a unified written document in order to preserve it.
The purpose of the Koran was both to confirm and to correct the scriptures that had previously been given to the Jews (the Hebrew Bible) and to the Christians (the New Testament). The idea was that the Jews and the Christians had received God’s word but had gone astray. The Jews had corrupted their scripture, and the Christians had erroneously worshipped Jesus as the Son of God. The Koran was meant to bring them all back to the true religion that Abraham had originally followed before either Judaism or Christianity arose. This religion, called Islam, is about absolute submission to the will of God.
The Koran thus contains stories about Jesus that are meant to correct what the New Testament says about him. The Koran itself is divided into 114 chapters called Suras, arranged in order from longest (perhaps thirty pages or so) to shortest (one paragraph). Each Sura has a number and a name, like “The Cow” or “Noah”. There is no chronological order to the book, and as a result, the brief stories about Jesus, and the places where he is mentioned, are scattered throughout the Suras. There is not really a narrative about Jesus’ life like we find in the Gospels. Because we as Christians are used to thinking about Jesus’ life story in some sort of order, I will take what I found in the Koran about Jesus, and arrange it in a more chronological way. (Note: the English translation of the Koran used here was made by N. J. Dawood in 1956.)
One thing to be aware of as you explore the Koran looking for Jesus, is that several of the Koran’s stories are very similar to other stories which can be found in old Apocryphal Christian writings that did not make it into the New Testament, such as the “Proto-Gospel of James” or the “Infancy Gospel of Thomas” (both of which I have written about in this column.) Western scholars believe that the Koran may have used these writings as sources about Jesus. However, they are somewhat unfamiliar sources to western readers precisely because they were excluded from the Bible. I’ll mention such possible sources as I go along.
The Koran begins the story of Jesus with the birth of his mother Mary (in Sura 3: The Imrans). Mary’s mother dedicates her unborn child to the Lord, and so the child Mary is sent to the Jewish Temple to live under the care of a Priest named Zacharias. Mary is miraculously fed by God. “Whenever Zacharias visited her in the Shrine he found that she had food with her. ‘Mary’, he said, ‘where is this food from?’ ‘ It is from Allah’, she answered.” An angel says to Mary, “Allah has chosen you. He has made you pure and exalted you above all women.” When Mary is older, they cast lots to see which person in the community will take charge of her. Neither the miraculous feeding nor the lottery are details found in the New Testament, but they can be found in the “Proto-Gospel of James”, an apocryphal book that says it is Joseph who takes charge of young Mary. Curiously enough, the Koran does not mention Joseph at all.
The Koran tells of Jesus’ conception in Sura 3 and in Sura 19: Mary. In Sura 19, Mary goes alone to a solitary place in the desert. A spirit-messenger of God tells her that she will be given a “holy son”. Sura 3 elaborates that “The angels said to Mary, ‘Allah bids you rejoice in a Word from him. His name is the Messiah, Jesus the son of Mary.” “’Lord,’ she said, how can I bear a child when no man has touched me?’ He replied, such is the will of Allah. He creates whom he will. When He decrees a thing He need only say: ‘Be’, and it is.” In the words of Sura 3, “Jesus is like Adam in the sight of Allah. He created him of dust and then said to him: ‘Be’, and he was.” Sura 19 concludes that “Thereupon she conceived him, and retired to a far-off place.”
It is important to understand that the Koran’s understanding of Jesus’ origin is similar to the New Testament in some ways, and very different in others. Basically, the Koran agrees that Mary had a virgin birth, but denies that Jesus is the “Son of God”. Sura 19 says, “Those who say: ‘The Lord of Mercy has begotten a son’ preach a monstrous falsehood, at which the very heavens might crack…” The very idea that God could beget a child is impossible in the Koran. God is not physical and can never have a child. Instead, God breathed his spirit into Mary while she stayed a virgin (Sura 21: The Prophets). Sura 112: Unity says, “Allah is One, the Eternal God. He begot none, nor was He begotten. None is equal to him.” Sura 5: The Table says, “Unbelievers are those that say, ‘Allah is the Messiah, the son of Mary’. […] Unbelievers are those that say, Allah is one of three’. There is but one God.” As we will see next, the Koran acknowledges Jesus as an anointed prophet who could do miracles, but denies that he is the Son of God. The idea is that God simply created Jesus, which is of course at odds with basic Christian theology.
Sura 19 continues the story of Mary and Jesus. Alone in the desert, she lies beneath a palm tree and gives birth. (This is of course a rather different birth location than in Bethlehem.) To sustain her, the Lord provides ripe dates that can simply fall down to the exhausted Mary from the high tree, and a brook of water starts to flow at her feet. This story is not found in the New Testament, but a very similar miracle is found in an Apocryphal work called “The Gospel of Pseudo-Matthew”, during an account of Mary’s flight to Egypt. In “Pseudo-Matthew”, a very young Jesus makes a palm tree bend down for his exhausted mother, and causes a hidden spring to bubble up. In Sura 19, when Mary returns to civilization with the baby, she is accused of being a whore. To answer her accusers, Mary silently points them towards the cradle with baby Jesus in it. Miraculously, Jesus preaches to them from the cradle, saying, “I am the servant of Allah. He has given me the Gospel and ordained me a prophet. His blessing is upon me wherever I go, and he […] has purged me of vanity and wickedness.” Jesus does not preach from the cradle in the New Testament, but he does so in the very beginning of an Apocryphal work called the “Arabic Gospel of the Infancy of the Savior”.
Sura 3 contains a brief account of the adult life of Jesus, in the form of God describing what the baby Jesus will be like when he grows up. The Koran says, God “will instruct him in the Scriptures and in wisdom, in the Torah and in the Gospel, and send him forth as an apostle to the Israelites. He will say: ‘I bring you a sign from your Lord. From clay I will make for you the likeness of a bird. I shall breathe into it, and, by Allah’s leave, it shall become a living bird. By Allah’s leave I shall give sight to the blind man, heal the leper, and raise the dead to life. I shall tell you what to eat and what to store up in your houses. Surely that will be a sign for you, if you are true believers. I come to confirm the Torah that has already been revealed and to make lawful to you some of the things you are forbidden. I bring you a sign from your Lord: therefore fear him and obey me. Allah is my God and your God: therefore serve Him. That is the straight path.’” As strange as it may seem to Christian readers, this small passage is basically most of what the Koran has to say about Jesus’ adult ministry!
There are a few things to understand about the passage we just read. First, notice that Jesus has no power of his own. Every miracle he performs is only by God’s leave. Second, there is the odd mention of a clay bird that comes to life. This miracle is not found in the New Testament, but it is found in an Apocryphal work called the “Infancy Gospel of Thomas”, where young Jesus brings several clay birds to life. Third, notice how the passage maintains a strict monotheism. Allah is Jesus’ God.
The Koran has a few other things to say about Jesus’ adult life. Sura 5 says that God strengthened Jesus with the Holy Spirit, and protected Jesus from the Israelite unbelievers when they called Jesus’ miracles nothing but plain magic. Sura 61: Battle Array is also notable in that it depicts Jesus predicting the prophet Mohammed. “I am sent forth to you by Allah to confirm the Torah already revealed and to give news of an apostle that will come after me whose name is Ahmed.” (Ahmed = Mohammed.)
In the New Testament, Jesus has twelve disciples during his adult life. These are briefly mentioned in the Koran too. Sura 3 says that the disciples help Jesus in the cause of Allah, saying, “We are the helpers of Allah. We believe in Him. Bear witness that we have surrendered ourselves to him. Lord, we believe in your revelations and follow your apostle. Count us among your witnesses.” Sura 5 says that one day, the disciples asked for a sign from God as proof that what Jesus said was true. “Can Allah send down to us from heaven a table spread with food?” God replied, “I am sending one to you. But whoever of you disbelieves hereafter shall be punished as no man has ever been punished.” And that pair of stories is basically all the Koran has to say about Jesus’ disciples.
Now we come to the topic of Jesus’ crucifixion. The Koran differs greatly from the New Testament in this area. Basically, the Koran says that Jesus was not crucified, but was instead lifted up to heaven without dying. Here is the key passage from Sura 4: Women. “They denied the truth and uttered a monstrous falsehood against Mary. They declared: ‘We have put to death the Messiah Jesus the son of Mary, the apostle of Allah.’ They did not kill him, nor did they crucify him, but they thought they did. [literal translation: he was made to resemble another for them.] Those that disagreed about him were in doubt concerning his death, for what they knew about it was sheer conjecture; they were not sure that they had slain him. Allah lifted him up to His presence.” In other words, according to the Koran, Jesus was not really crucified, and someone else who looked like Jesus was crucified in his place. This idea is, of course, not found in the New Testament, but it is found in one Gnostic Christian work called the “Second Treatise of the Great Seth” (from the Nag Hammadi Library). In “Great Seth”, Jesus looks on, laughing in amusement as someone else is crucified instead, while other onlookers are ignorant of the truth (the Gnostic truth that Jesus was really a spiritual being who could not die).
So, what is the deal with all of these apparent Koran borrowings from Christian Apocrypha? Western scholars say it is just that – borrowing. When the Koran was being compiled, such apocryphal writings were still in circulation along trade routes, in written form or in popular oral traditions. Perhaps the apocryphal Jesus stories were given equal weight with canonical New Testament stories and included in the Koran. A western reader might say that this means parts of the Koran are based on fictional or fanciful sources, because that is how Christians classify their own apocryphal books. But a Muslim would argue the opposite: every word of the Koran is true and from God. If the Koran’s Jesus stories match those in so-called apocryphal writings, then the apocryphal writings must be really true.
The Koran claims that Jesus will have a role to play in the future. One day, the Day of Judgment will arrive (called the Day of Resurrection in Sura 3.) Jesus has been taken away from the unbelievers and lifted up to God until that day comes. On that day, unbelievers will be punished, and God will judge all disputes. Jesus will be a portent of the coming of the hour of doom and a witness against unbelievers.
The Koran makes passing references to Jesus in several places, adding to the final picture. Each time, the Koran has something to say about what Jesus is, or is not. For example, Jesus is not more than a mortal favored by God to be an example to Israel (Sura 43: Ornaments of Gold). Jesus is a descendant of King David who received scripture, wisdom, prophet-hood, and guidance from God (Sura 6: Cattle). Jesus is not someone who ever asked people to worship him and his mother (Sura 5). Jesus is a sign to all men (Sura 21). All of these details are part of the big picture of Jesus in the Koran. What is that big picture? Well, there are certainly many things which Christians must disagree with: Jesus was never crucified? Jesus is not the Son of God? Of course Christians cannot agree with these statements. But we should not be surprised by them. Islam was once a new religion that was in direct competition with Christianity. It was necessary for the Koran to dispute or deny some of the claims of a rival religion as Islam struggled into being. Look at the way early Christianity disputed and denied the claims of Judaism which came before it. I mean, if Islam had come along before Christianity, what would the New Testament have had to say about the Koran’s claims? Yet, the surprising thing is how much common ground can be found about Jesus. Let’s try for a moment to summarize as many points as we can, where the Koran and the New Testament agree about Jesus.
1. Jesus had a virgin birth and a miraculous conception. 2. Jesus and his mother Mary were pure and without sin. 3. God sent the Holy Spirit to help Jesus. 4. Jesus spoke for God as a prophet. 5. Jesus performed miracles such as curing the blind and raising the dead. 6. Jesus affirmed the Torah and brought the Good News, the Gospel “in which there is guidance and light, corroborating that which was revealed before it in the Torah, a guide and an admonition to the righteous” (Sura 5). 7. Jesus had disciples and preached to Israel, where some believed in him and some did not. 8. After his time on Earth was done, Jesus was taken to Heaven to be with God until the Day of Judgment. 9. Jesus was the Messiah.
Of course, there are disagreements too. What do we do with those? The Koran instructs Muslims to try to persuade Christians. “Say: ‘People of the Book, let us come to an agreement that we will worship none but Allah, that we will associate none with him, and that none of us will set up mortals as gods besides him.’ If they refuse, say: ‘Bear witness that we have surrendered ourselves to Allah.’” (Sura 3) That sounds like a path towards “agreeing to disagree.” And that is a good thing. Finding some common ground, combined with a peaceful disagreement, is the recipe for living together in America. Then there is no need for burning anyone’s books! These words from Sura 42: Counsel, are a good sentiment to end with: “We have our own works and you have yours; let there be no argument between us. Allah will bring us all together, for to Him we shall return.”
Sunday, May 15, 2011
The Whole Megillah
#55: “The Whole Megillah” by Brendon Wahlberg
Pop quiz: which book of the Old Testament never once mentions God in it? Need more hints? This book is the only one in the entire Hebrew Bible not found among the Dead Sea Scrolls. Not even a tiny fragment of it was there. Most scholars think this book is a work of patriotic fiction, not history, because its details disagree with what we know from historical sources. More clues? Martin Luther hated this book, saying of it, “I would it did not exist; for it Judaizes too much, and has in it a great deal of heathenish naughtiness […] it is more worthy than all [the apocryphal books] of being excluded from the Canon.” But despite Luther’s disdain, this book is read out loud every year in a party atmosphere, complete with costumes and noise-makers. Got it yet?
Yes, it’s the Book of Esther. Five points for you. Now, you are probably curious about my title. The word “Megillah” means a rolled scroll. There are five biblical scrolls, or “Megillot”, that are read in synagogues on certain holidays, namely Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Esther. Esther is the most important one, the Megillah, the only one which it is obligatory to hear, read out loud in its entirety, on the holiday of Purim. Anyway, twentieth century Jewish comedians (for example, on “Laugh-In”) took this word and popularized an expression, the “Whole Megillah.” It means a long and boring story, tediously detailed and overly embroidered, long winded and drawn-out, an overextended and overly complicated account, a very involved and unnecessarily lengthy tale…sort of like this sentence, but much longer. Why did this expression make reference to the Megillah, the scroll of Esther? Maybe it was because, when you sit in the Synagogue listening to every word of it, it feels long and drawn-out. Maybe that is why there are noise-makers for the kids to play with…but more on this later.
I chose the title because Esther is the most important Megillah, and also because Esther comes in two versions. One is the original Hebrew version, written around 400BCE, and the other is a newer Greek version, written a few hundred years later. Now, the really interesting thing is, the Greek version is longer. Greek Esther is the same as the Hebrew version, but it has six new chapters added to it. And, while the original Hebrew Esther never mentions God even once, the six new chapters of Greek Esther are jam packed with references to God. What’s the story, here? Which version, in other words, is the “whole” Megillah?
To answer the question, let’s first see what the Hebrew version is all about. The Book of Esther is set in the ancient Persian Empire during the reign of King Ahasuerus (possibly the same person as Xerxes I, 485-464 BCE). The King throws a huge feast in his Palace of Susa, during which he drunkenly commands his wife, Vashti, to appear before his guests and show off her beauty. Vashti refuses, and the King is infuriated. His advisors warn him that her refusal might become widely known and inspire all Persian wives to disobey their husbands (shocking, I know!) He issues an irrevocable decree that Vashti is to be replaced as Queen, as her punishment.
The King orders the collection of all available beautiful young virgins. His favorite will become the new Queen. In Susa, there is a lovely young Jewish woman named Esther. She has lost her parents, and is cared for by her foster father Mordecai. When Esther joins the harem, Mordecai warns her not to reveal that she is Jewish, for as the rest of the book reveals, there was a dangerous level of anti-Semitism aimed at the Jews of the Diaspora in Persia. The King loves Esther more than all the other women, and makes her Queen instead of Vashti.
Mordecai watches over Esther from the Palace gate, and it is there that he overhears a plot to murder the King. He tells Esther, who tells the King, and the plot is foiled. Mordecai’s deeds are written in the royal records. Soon after that, the King happens to elevate a man named Haman (the villain of the story) to high rank. Haman is upset when everyone bows down before him at the Palace gate…except Mordecai. Haman is so angry, that he decides to kill not only Mordecai, but also all of Mordecai’s people, all of the Jews in Persia. The day of the massacre is planned.
Haman then goes to the King to gain his approval for the plan. Deviously, Haman describes a people living among the Persians but apart from them, a people with different laws, who do not obey the King’s laws. He persuades the King that these people, young and old, men, women, and children, should all be killed. Ahasuerus issues an irrevocable decree to do so, on the date chosen by Haman. Learning of the decree, Mordecai begs Esther to go to the King and help her people. She protests, saying that the punishment for approaching Ahasuerus uninvited is death. But finally, she decides to risk it. Fortunately, the King welcomes her, and accepts her invitation to a private banquet, along with Haman, on the following evening.
Meanwhile, Haman continues to fume about Mordecai. His wife suggests that he set up a gallows to hang Mordecai. But the King, unable to sleep, reads about Mordecai in the royal records, realizing that nothing has been done to reward him for foiling the assassination plot. In the morning, Ahasuerus asks Haman what should be done for “the man whom the King wishes to reward.” Of course, Haman thinks the King means him, not Mordecai. Haman suggests that such a person should be given the King’s robe and the King’s horse to ride in public, with a courtier leading the horse and announcing the honor to everyone. Haman is mortified when he is told to go and honor Mordecai in that fashion.
At the private banquet with Esther and Haman, the King offers his Queen anything she wishes. She asks only for the King to spare her life and the lives of her people. The King, not knowing his wife is Jewish, demands to know who would threaten his Queen’s life, and at once, she accuses Haman. The King stands and has to leave the room in his rage, while a stunned Haman throws himself on the Queen and begs Esther for his life. The King returns and interprets this as Haman daring to violate Esther. It is over for Haman. He is hanged on the very gallows he has set up for Mordecai. The exalted position of Haman is given to Mordecai.
But the decree has already gone out to slaughter the Jews in Persia, and it cannot be revoked. Esther and Mordecai are allowed to send out a second decree that when the attack comes, the Jews will be allowed to band together and defend themselves. When the terrible day arrives, the Jews are victorious, killing thousands of armed attackers in all of Persia. A day of anticipated mourning has been turned into a day of celebration and feasting, and Mordecai establishes the holiday of Purim to commemorate it. Purim is still celebrated today, and during the reading of the complete scroll of Esther, children use loud noise-makers to drown out the sound of Haman’s name whenever it is spoken. And that is the whole Megillah. Or is it?
By the time the Book of Esther was a few hundred years old, some Jews were already feeling uncomfortable about the fact that God is never mentioned in it. All of the rest of the Holy Scriptures were all about God. Not Esther – there, the characters save themselves through their own efforts. When the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek (as the Septuagint), a new version of Esther was written to include in it. An unknown writer decided to revise Esther and correct the problem of God’s absence. A total of six new chapters were written and added to the original. So what do these chapters contain?
A new prologue describes Mordecai having a dream vision like something out of Revelation in the New Testament. Two dragons fight in an apocalyptic landscape, symbolizing the conflict between Mordecai and Haman. The entire people, on the verge of destruction, cry out to God, who brings their salvation in the form of light and water, symbolizing Esther becoming Queen. So right away, the new writer establishes that it is God whose actions save his people. A new epilogue gives the interpretation of the dream, concluding that God saved his people by working signs and great wonders.
Two other new chapters claim to be actual letters, copies of the decrees issued by the King, first to doom the Jews, and later to save them. But the letters add nothing to the story. They are only wordy and redundant explanations of what has already been said. These added sections really do turn the book into more of a “whole Megillah” in the sense that I mentioned earlier. However, there is one interesting detail in the letters. The Hebrew version of Esther calls Haman an “Agagite”, a descendant of the Amalekites, ancient enemies of the Jews. But the new Greek additions call Haman a “Macedonian”, which was not an ancient enemy, but a very current one. At the time of the additions to the book, the Macedonians under Alexander had conquered the Persians and were the newest oppressors of the Jews.
Another new section is added in the middle of the story. Maybe it offended the writer that Esther and Mordecai solved their own problems, seemingly without God’s intervention. So a lengthy prayer section is added, at the point where Mordecai learns of the terrible decree. The prayer of Mordecai recognizes God as all powerful and all knowing. Mordecai says that he did not refuse to bow before Haman out of pride, but because he would not bow before anyone except God. He prays to God to have pity and save his people from their enemies. Those who praise God must not be destroyed, so that they may live to continue praising God. Next, Esther discards all her finery and prays in sackcloth and ashes, recognizing that she has no help but God. She acknowledges that she and her people have sinned by worshipping other gods, and that their punishment is just. She begs God not to let his people be utterly destroyed, but instead to make an example for the world by destroying the wicked enemies of the Jews. She claims to hate her own Queenly grandeur, and swears that she has privately abhorred all pagan sacrifices and hated the bed of the uncircumcised. She reiterates that she is alone and that she has no one to help her but God.
The Greek additions to Esther are certainly in keeping with the themes of other Jewish religious writings of the time. And they certainly do correct the perceived flaw of the book not mentioning God. However, the additions are rather heavy handed and extreme in their contrast to the content and tone of the Hebrew original. And speaking of the Hebrew original, remember that it is the version that has been preserved in Jewish Bibles. Catholics have preserved the longer version of Esther as canonical. Protestants have placed the additions to Esther in the Apocrypha. But the Jews were evidently happy with Esther the way it was originally written, despite the fact that it did not mention God. Why was that?
One traditional interpretation is that, by not mentioning God, the book teaches that God’s face is sometimes hidden from us. At some points in history, God acts out in the open, such as in the book of Exodus. But at other times, God acts in a hidden manner, behind the scenes, as in the book of Esther. Things seem to work out in a providential manner, because God has worked much less obvious miracles that appear to be natural occurrences. Or perhaps the book of Esther tries to tell us that sometimes it really is up to us to save ourselves. Maybe the “whole” Megillah is a mixture of all these ideas. We keep and preserve both versions of the book because both messages are necessary to us. Now that I think about it, there’s an old saying that expresses both ideas together: God helps those who help themselves.
Pop quiz: which book of the Old Testament never once mentions God in it? Need more hints? This book is the only one in the entire Hebrew Bible not found among the Dead Sea Scrolls. Not even a tiny fragment of it was there. Most scholars think this book is a work of patriotic fiction, not history, because its details disagree with what we know from historical sources. More clues? Martin Luther hated this book, saying of it, “I would it did not exist; for it Judaizes too much, and has in it a great deal of heathenish naughtiness […] it is more worthy than all [the apocryphal books] of being excluded from the Canon.” But despite Luther’s disdain, this book is read out loud every year in a party atmosphere, complete with costumes and noise-makers. Got it yet?
Yes, it’s the Book of Esther. Five points for you. Now, you are probably curious about my title. The word “Megillah” means a rolled scroll. There are five biblical scrolls, or “Megillot”, that are read in synagogues on certain holidays, namely Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, and Esther. Esther is the most important one, the Megillah, the only one which it is obligatory to hear, read out loud in its entirety, on the holiday of Purim. Anyway, twentieth century Jewish comedians (for example, on “Laugh-In”) took this word and popularized an expression, the “Whole Megillah.” It means a long and boring story, tediously detailed and overly embroidered, long winded and drawn-out, an overextended and overly complicated account, a very involved and unnecessarily lengthy tale…sort of like this sentence, but much longer. Why did this expression make reference to the Megillah, the scroll of Esther? Maybe it was because, when you sit in the Synagogue listening to every word of it, it feels long and drawn-out. Maybe that is why there are noise-makers for the kids to play with…but more on this later.
I chose the title because Esther is the most important Megillah, and also because Esther comes in two versions. One is the original Hebrew version, written around 400BCE, and the other is a newer Greek version, written a few hundred years later. Now, the really interesting thing is, the Greek version is longer. Greek Esther is the same as the Hebrew version, but it has six new chapters added to it. And, while the original Hebrew Esther never mentions God even once, the six new chapters of Greek Esther are jam packed with references to God. What’s the story, here? Which version, in other words, is the “whole” Megillah?
To answer the question, let’s first see what the Hebrew version is all about. The Book of Esther is set in the ancient Persian Empire during the reign of King Ahasuerus (possibly the same person as Xerxes I, 485-464 BCE). The King throws a huge feast in his Palace of Susa, during which he drunkenly commands his wife, Vashti, to appear before his guests and show off her beauty. Vashti refuses, and the King is infuriated. His advisors warn him that her refusal might become widely known and inspire all Persian wives to disobey their husbands (shocking, I know!) He issues an irrevocable decree that Vashti is to be replaced as Queen, as her punishment.
The King orders the collection of all available beautiful young virgins. His favorite will become the new Queen. In Susa, there is a lovely young Jewish woman named Esther. She has lost her parents, and is cared for by her foster father Mordecai. When Esther joins the harem, Mordecai warns her not to reveal that she is Jewish, for as the rest of the book reveals, there was a dangerous level of anti-Semitism aimed at the Jews of the Diaspora in Persia. The King loves Esther more than all the other women, and makes her Queen instead of Vashti.
Mordecai watches over Esther from the Palace gate, and it is there that he overhears a plot to murder the King. He tells Esther, who tells the King, and the plot is foiled. Mordecai’s deeds are written in the royal records. Soon after that, the King happens to elevate a man named Haman (the villain of the story) to high rank. Haman is upset when everyone bows down before him at the Palace gate…except Mordecai. Haman is so angry, that he decides to kill not only Mordecai, but also all of Mordecai’s people, all of the Jews in Persia. The day of the massacre is planned.
Haman then goes to the King to gain his approval for the plan. Deviously, Haman describes a people living among the Persians but apart from them, a people with different laws, who do not obey the King’s laws. He persuades the King that these people, young and old, men, women, and children, should all be killed. Ahasuerus issues an irrevocable decree to do so, on the date chosen by Haman. Learning of the decree, Mordecai begs Esther to go to the King and help her people. She protests, saying that the punishment for approaching Ahasuerus uninvited is death. But finally, she decides to risk it. Fortunately, the King welcomes her, and accepts her invitation to a private banquet, along with Haman, on the following evening.
Meanwhile, Haman continues to fume about Mordecai. His wife suggests that he set up a gallows to hang Mordecai. But the King, unable to sleep, reads about Mordecai in the royal records, realizing that nothing has been done to reward him for foiling the assassination plot. In the morning, Ahasuerus asks Haman what should be done for “the man whom the King wishes to reward.” Of course, Haman thinks the King means him, not Mordecai. Haman suggests that such a person should be given the King’s robe and the King’s horse to ride in public, with a courtier leading the horse and announcing the honor to everyone. Haman is mortified when he is told to go and honor Mordecai in that fashion.
At the private banquet with Esther and Haman, the King offers his Queen anything she wishes. She asks only for the King to spare her life and the lives of her people. The King, not knowing his wife is Jewish, demands to know who would threaten his Queen’s life, and at once, she accuses Haman. The King stands and has to leave the room in his rage, while a stunned Haman throws himself on the Queen and begs Esther for his life. The King returns and interprets this as Haman daring to violate Esther. It is over for Haman. He is hanged on the very gallows he has set up for Mordecai. The exalted position of Haman is given to Mordecai.
But the decree has already gone out to slaughter the Jews in Persia, and it cannot be revoked. Esther and Mordecai are allowed to send out a second decree that when the attack comes, the Jews will be allowed to band together and defend themselves. When the terrible day arrives, the Jews are victorious, killing thousands of armed attackers in all of Persia. A day of anticipated mourning has been turned into a day of celebration and feasting, and Mordecai establishes the holiday of Purim to commemorate it. Purim is still celebrated today, and during the reading of the complete scroll of Esther, children use loud noise-makers to drown out the sound of Haman’s name whenever it is spoken. And that is the whole Megillah. Or is it?
By the time the Book of Esther was a few hundred years old, some Jews were already feeling uncomfortable about the fact that God is never mentioned in it. All of the rest of the Holy Scriptures were all about God. Not Esther – there, the characters save themselves through their own efforts. When the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek (as the Septuagint), a new version of Esther was written to include in it. An unknown writer decided to revise Esther and correct the problem of God’s absence. A total of six new chapters were written and added to the original. So what do these chapters contain?
A new prologue describes Mordecai having a dream vision like something out of Revelation in the New Testament. Two dragons fight in an apocalyptic landscape, symbolizing the conflict between Mordecai and Haman. The entire people, on the verge of destruction, cry out to God, who brings their salvation in the form of light and water, symbolizing Esther becoming Queen. So right away, the new writer establishes that it is God whose actions save his people. A new epilogue gives the interpretation of the dream, concluding that God saved his people by working signs and great wonders.
Two other new chapters claim to be actual letters, copies of the decrees issued by the King, first to doom the Jews, and later to save them. But the letters add nothing to the story. They are only wordy and redundant explanations of what has already been said. These added sections really do turn the book into more of a “whole Megillah” in the sense that I mentioned earlier. However, there is one interesting detail in the letters. The Hebrew version of Esther calls Haman an “Agagite”, a descendant of the Amalekites, ancient enemies of the Jews. But the new Greek additions call Haman a “Macedonian”, which was not an ancient enemy, but a very current one. At the time of the additions to the book, the Macedonians under Alexander had conquered the Persians and were the newest oppressors of the Jews.
Another new section is added in the middle of the story. Maybe it offended the writer that Esther and Mordecai solved their own problems, seemingly without God’s intervention. So a lengthy prayer section is added, at the point where Mordecai learns of the terrible decree. The prayer of Mordecai recognizes God as all powerful and all knowing. Mordecai says that he did not refuse to bow before Haman out of pride, but because he would not bow before anyone except God. He prays to God to have pity and save his people from their enemies. Those who praise God must not be destroyed, so that they may live to continue praising God. Next, Esther discards all her finery and prays in sackcloth and ashes, recognizing that she has no help but God. She acknowledges that she and her people have sinned by worshipping other gods, and that their punishment is just. She begs God not to let his people be utterly destroyed, but instead to make an example for the world by destroying the wicked enemies of the Jews. She claims to hate her own Queenly grandeur, and swears that she has privately abhorred all pagan sacrifices and hated the bed of the uncircumcised. She reiterates that she is alone and that she has no one to help her but God.
The Greek additions to Esther are certainly in keeping with the themes of other Jewish religious writings of the time. And they certainly do correct the perceived flaw of the book not mentioning God. However, the additions are rather heavy handed and extreme in their contrast to the content and tone of the Hebrew original. And speaking of the Hebrew original, remember that it is the version that has been preserved in Jewish Bibles. Catholics have preserved the longer version of Esther as canonical. Protestants have placed the additions to Esther in the Apocrypha. But the Jews were evidently happy with Esther the way it was originally written, despite the fact that it did not mention God. Why was that?
One traditional interpretation is that, by not mentioning God, the book teaches that God’s face is sometimes hidden from us. At some points in history, God acts out in the open, such as in the book of Exodus. But at other times, God acts in a hidden manner, behind the scenes, as in the book of Esther. Things seem to work out in a providential manner, because God has worked much less obvious miracles that appear to be natural occurrences. Or perhaps the book of Esther tries to tell us that sometimes it really is up to us to save ourselves. Maybe the “whole” Megillah is a mixture of all these ideas. We keep and preserve both versions of the book because both messages are necessary to us. Now that I think about it, there’s an old saying that expresses both ideas together: God helps those who help themselves.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Lost in Translations
#54: “Lost in Translations” by Brendon Wahlberg
We should always be aware that when we read an English Bible, we are reading a translation of the original language. The actual wording may vary, depending on which translation we have before us. It can be eye-opening to choose a passage and compare how it reads in different translations. Some will be very literal, and others will be loose paraphrases in modern English. Even the meaning of the passage can seem to change, depending on the translation. Let’s try a comparison, shall we?
To make this more interesting, let’s choose one of the most difficult-to-understand passages in the entire Bible, Exodus 4:24-26. This is a brief story of how Moses is attacked by God on the way back to Egypt. God is suddenly ready to kill Moses. Only the strange intervention of Moses’ wife saves the life of her family.
Here it is, in the translation we use at Calvin, the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). “On the way, at a place where they spent the night, the Lord met him and tried to kill him. But Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son's foreskin, and touched Moses' feet with it, and said, "Truly you are a bridegroom of blood to me!" So he let him alone. It was then she said, "A bridegroom of blood by circumcision.”
This is a strange little story, which raises many questions. Scholars have argued over its meaning and proper translation for many years. For example, when Moses’ wife says “bridegroom of blood”, what does she mean? Why did God try to kill Moses? How did Moses’ wife stop it? Why did she touch Moses’ feet with the…ahem…object? Let’s look at some more translations and see if that helps us to understand.
The King James Version (KJV) is the classic of English literature, but some find its language to be too old fashioned: “And it came to pass by the way in the inn, that the Lord met him, and sought to kill him. Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet, and said , Surely a bloody husband art thou to me. So he let him go: then she said, A bloody husband thou art, because of the circumcision.” Indeed, to modern ears, the KJV, with “thou art”, may feel like a small step backwards in understanding.
The NRSV and the KJV are fairly literal translations. But there are other translations which (for better or worse) put aside strict faithfulness to the original text in favor of a more readable, contemporary experience. One of these is the New Living Translation (NLT), which has been sold under the title “The Book” (as seen on TV). The NLT has this: “On the journey, when Moses and his family had stopped for the night, the Lord confronted Moses and was about to kill him. But Zipporah, his wife, took a flint knife and circumcised her son. She threw the foreskin at Moses' feet and said, "What a blood-smeared bridegroom you are to me!" (When she called Moses a "blood-smeared bridegroom," she was referring to the circumcision.) After that, the Lord left him alone.” Reading a paraphrase like the NLT can be easier, as you can see. Sadly, in this case, easier English does not help with our deeper questions.
Let’s look at another paraphrase, and see how other translators handled the mystery. This one is from “The Message” translation (another paraphrase). “On the journey back, as they camped for the night, God met Moses and would have killed him but Zipporah took a flint knife and cut off her son's foreskin, and touched Moses' member with it. She said, "Oh! You're a bridegroom of blood to me!" Then God let him go. She used the phrase "bridegroom of blood" because of the circumcision.” Here is a difference. The other versions have Zipporah tossing the…ahem…object at Moses’ feet. But “The Message” version recognizes that “feet” might be a biblical euphemism for genitals, and has Zipporah touching the…object…to Moses’…item. However, the reason for doing either act is still very murky, and the meaning of “bridegroom of blood” is still elusive.
Curiously, it does not help us very much to go to a Jewish translation; the Jewish Publication Society Bible (JPS) is just as cryptic as most of the rest. “At a night encampment on the way, the Lord encountered him and sought to kill him. So Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin, and touched his legs with it, saying, “You are truly a bridegroom of blood to me!” And when He let him alone, she added, “A bridegroom of blood because of the circumcision.”” A footnote states only that “Meaning of verses 26-26 uncertain.” One might think the JPS version would offer more insight into the Hebrew text.
Here is a translation from the “Contemporary English Version.” Notice how this version’s footnotes (which I inserted) offer two very different versions of some of the verses, in an attempt to make the whole story clearer. “One night while Moses was in camp, the Lord was about to kill him. But Zipporah circumcised her son with a flint knife. She touched his [Either Moses or the boy] legs with the skin she had cut off and said, "My dear son, this blood will protect you." [Or "My dear husband, you are a man of blood" (meaning Moses).] So the Lord did not harm Moses. Then Zipporah said, "Yes, my dear, you are safe because of this circumcision." [Or "you are a man of blood."] But there is quite a difference between saying to her son, “you are safe” and saying to her husband, “you are a man of blood”. Which is correct? It is amazing how ambiguous or uncertain the ancient languages can be for us in the present. Each of these translations may be able to make the English a little clearer, but we are still confused as to what the story actually means, because the translators are not sure. Because it can be hard to recover the meaning of certain ancient words and expressions, sometimes no one is sure.
Yet another interesting translation inserts explanations and clarifications right there in the text. This is the “Amplified Bible” and the words in brackets are added by the translator: “Along the way at a [resting-] place, the Lord met [Moses] and sought to kill him [made him acutely and almost fatally ill]. [Now apparently he had failed to circumcise one of his sons, his wife being opposed to it; but seeing his life in such danger] Zipporah took a flint knife and cut off the foreskin of her son and cast it to touch [Moses'] feet, and said, Surely a husband of blood you are to me! When He let [Moses] alone [to recover], Zipporah said, A husband of blood are you because of the circumcision.”
Okay, with that last version, we are far from the familiar NRSV where we started, but we are starting to get down to what some scholars believe is the meaning of the passage. There is no definitive explanation, but we can take a look at a couple of interpretations that make sense. A possible explanation begins with the commandment (in Genesis 17:12-14) to circumcise one’s children. “Throughout your generations every male among you shall be circumcised when he is eight days old, including the slave born in your house and the one bought with your money from any foreigner who is not of your offspring. Both the slave born in your house and the one bought with your money must be circumcised. So shall my covenant be in your flesh an everlasting covenant. Any uncircumcised male who is not circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin shall be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant.’”
As the Amplified Bible version suggests, Moses has failed for some reason to carry out the commandment and circumcise his son Gershom. Was he forgetful, or, as the Amplified Bible suggests, did his wife object and prevent it from happening? It is possible to speculate that Zipporah, who was a Midianite, objected to the operation for cultural or personal reasons. In the passage, God is ready to kill Moses. Is it because of this failure? Moses was the special messenger of God. Perhaps Moses, of all people, could not be allowed to get away with not observing a central commandment of the Covenant. Moses, and maybe also his son, are to be “cut off.” The Amplified Bible version suggests that God afflicted Moses with severe illness. Perhaps for that reason, it was up to his wife to take action when Moses could not. Grabbing a flint knife, Zipporah does what she must in order to save her family. Was she furious and afraid? Did she hurl the results at Moses’ feet in anger, calling him a bloody husband, upset at being forced to do what she did? Was that the meaning of the enigmatic phrase, bridegroom of blood?
There is another possible meaning, say other scholars. Perhaps Zipporah never objected to the circumcision, and it was an oversight that it was never done, or an omission by ignorance. Look at the Contemporary English Version again. There the translation suggests that Moses’ wife took quick and heroic action to protect her son. I found a discussion online by someone named Rabbi Hord, who suggested that the Hebrew which is translated as “bridegroom of blood” (hatan dimim), has roots in an older language called Akkadian (spoken in Midian), where it means “to protect”. If this is true, then perhaps Zipporah never called Moses a Bridegroom of Blood at all, but merely said that she was protecting him with her actions.
So now we have seen some of the different meanings that can result from reading different English Bibles. All of the translations above are, nevertheless, still generally similar to each other. To see just how different a pair of translations can be, take a quick look at the following two translations of Matthew 6:9-13.
KJV: “After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.”
The Message: “With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this: Our Father in heaven, Reveal who you are. Set the world right; Do what's best— as above, so below. Keep us alive with three square meals. Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others. Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil. You're in charge! You can do anything you want! You're ablaze in beauty! Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Wow.
We should always be aware that when we read an English Bible, we are reading a translation of the original language. The actual wording may vary, depending on which translation we have before us. It can be eye-opening to choose a passage and compare how it reads in different translations. Some will be very literal, and others will be loose paraphrases in modern English. Even the meaning of the passage can seem to change, depending on the translation. Let’s try a comparison, shall we?
To make this more interesting, let’s choose one of the most difficult-to-understand passages in the entire Bible, Exodus 4:24-26. This is a brief story of how Moses is attacked by God on the way back to Egypt. God is suddenly ready to kill Moses. Only the strange intervention of Moses’ wife saves the life of her family.
Here it is, in the translation we use at Calvin, the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). “On the way, at a place where they spent the night, the Lord met him and tried to kill him. But Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son's foreskin, and touched Moses' feet with it, and said, "Truly you are a bridegroom of blood to me!" So he let him alone. It was then she said, "A bridegroom of blood by circumcision.”
This is a strange little story, which raises many questions. Scholars have argued over its meaning and proper translation for many years. For example, when Moses’ wife says “bridegroom of blood”, what does she mean? Why did God try to kill Moses? How did Moses’ wife stop it? Why did she touch Moses’ feet with the…ahem…object? Let’s look at some more translations and see if that helps us to understand.
The King James Version (KJV) is the classic of English literature, but some find its language to be too old fashioned: “And it came to pass by the way in the inn, that the Lord met him, and sought to kill him. Then Zipporah took a sharp stone, and cut off the foreskin of her son, and cast it at his feet, and said , Surely a bloody husband art thou to me. So he let him go: then she said, A bloody husband thou art, because of the circumcision.” Indeed, to modern ears, the KJV, with “thou art”, may feel like a small step backwards in understanding.
The NRSV and the KJV are fairly literal translations. But there are other translations which (for better or worse) put aside strict faithfulness to the original text in favor of a more readable, contemporary experience. One of these is the New Living Translation (NLT), which has been sold under the title “The Book” (as seen on TV). The NLT has this: “On the journey, when Moses and his family had stopped for the night, the Lord confronted Moses and was about to kill him. But Zipporah, his wife, took a flint knife and circumcised her son. She threw the foreskin at Moses' feet and said, "What a blood-smeared bridegroom you are to me!" (When she called Moses a "blood-smeared bridegroom," she was referring to the circumcision.) After that, the Lord left him alone.” Reading a paraphrase like the NLT can be easier, as you can see. Sadly, in this case, easier English does not help with our deeper questions.
Let’s look at another paraphrase, and see how other translators handled the mystery. This one is from “The Message” translation (another paraphrase). “On the journey back, as they camped for the night, God met Moses and would have killed him but Zipporah took a flint knife and cut off her son's foreskin, and touched Moses' member with it. She said, "Oh! You're a bridegroom of blood to me!" Then God let him go. She used the phrase "bridegroom of blood" because of the circumcision.” Here is a difference. The other versions have Zipporah tossing the…ahem…object at Moses’ feet. But “The Message” version recognizes that “feet” might be a biblical euphemism for genitals, and has Zipporah touching the…object…to Moses’…item. However, the reason for doing either act is still very murky, and the meaning of “bridegroom of blood” is still elusive.
Curiously, it does not help us very much to go to a Jewish translation; the Jewish Publication Society Bible (JPS) is just as cryptic as most of the rest. “At a night encampment on the way, the Lord encountered him and sought to kill him. So Zipporah took a flint and cut off her son’s foreskin, and touched his legs with it, saying, “You are truly a bridegroom of blood to me!” And when He let him alone, she added, “A bridegroom of blood because of the circumcision.”” A footnote states only that “Meaning of verses 26-26 uncertain.” One might think the JPS version would offer more insight into the Hebrew text.
Here is a translation from the “Contemporary English Version.” Notice how this version’s footnotes (which I inserted) offer two very different versions of some of the verses, in an attempt to make the whole story clearer. “One night while Moses was in camp, the Lord was about to kill him. But Zipporah circumcised her son with a flint knife. She touched his [Either Moses or the boy] legs with the skin she had cut off and said, "My dear son, this blood will protect you." [Or "My dear husband, you are a man of blood" (meaning Moses).] So the Lord did not harm Moses. Then Zipporah said, "Yes, my dear, you are safe because of this circumcision." [Or "you are a man of blood."] But there is quite a difference between saying to her son, “you are safe” and saying to her husband, “you are a man of blood”. Which is correct? It is amazing how ambiguous or uncertain the ancient languages can be for us in the present. Each of these translations may be able to make the English a little clearer, but we are still confused as to what the story actually means, because the translators are not sure. Because it can be hard to recover the meaning of certain ancient words and expressions, sometimes no one is sure.
Yet another interesting translation inserts explanations and clarifications right there in the text. This is the “Amplified Bible” and the words in brackets are added by the translator: “Along the way at a [resting-] place, the Lord met [Moses] and sought to kill him [made him acutely and almost fatally ill]. [Now apparently he had failed to circumcise one of his sons, his wife being opposed to it; but seeing his life in such danger] Zipporah took a flint knife and cut off the foreskin of her son and cast it to touch [Moses'] feet, and said, Surely a husband of blood you are to me! When He let [Moses] alone [to recover], Zipporah said, A husband of blood are you because of the circumcision.”
Okay, with that last version, we are far from the familiar NRSV where we started, but we are starting to get down to what some scholars believe is the meaning of the passage. There is no definitive explanation, but we can take a look at a couple of interpretations that make sense. A possible explanation begins with the commandment (in Genesis 17:12-14) to circumcise one’s children. “Throughout your generations every male among you shall be circumcised when he is eight days old, including the slave born in your house and the one bought with your money from any foreigner who is not of your offspring. Both the slave born in your house and the one bought with your money must be circumcised. So shall my covenant be in your flesh an everlasting covenant. Any uncircumcised male who is not circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin shall be cut off from his people; he has broken my covenant.’”
As the Amplified Bible version suggests, Moses has failed for some reason to carry out the commandment and circumcise his son Gershom. Was he forgetful, or, as the Amplified Bible suggests, did his wife object and prevent it from happening? It is possible to speculate that Zipporah, who was a Midianite, objected to the operation for cultural or personal reasons. In the passage, God is ready to kill Moses. Is it because of this failure? Moses was the special messenger of God. Perhaps Moses, of all people, could not be allowed to get away with not observing a central commandment of the Covenant. Moses, and maybe also his son, are to be “cut off.” The Amplified Bible version suggests that God afflicted Moses with severe illness. Perhaps for that reason, it was up to his wife to take action when Moses could not. Grabbing a flint knife, Zipporah does what she must in order to save her family. Was she furious and afraid? Did she hurl the results at Moses’ feet in anger, calling him a bloody husband, upset at being forced to do what she did? Was that the meaning of the enigmatic phrase, bridegroom of blood?
There is another possible meaning, say other scholars. Perhaps Zipporah never objected to the circumcision, and it was an oversight that it was never done, or an omission by ignorance. Look at the Contemporary English Version again. There the translation suggests that Moses’ wife took quick and heroic action to protect her son. I found a discussion online by someone named Rabbi Hord, who suggested that the Hebrew which is translated as “bridegroom of blood” (hatan dimim), has roots in an older language called Akkadian (spoken in Midian), where it means “to protect”. If this is true, then perhaps Zipporah never called Moses a Bridegroom of Blood at all, but merely said that she was protecting him with her actions.
So now we have seen some of the different meanings that can result from reading different English Bibles. All of the translations above are, nevertheless, still generally similar to each other. To see just how different a pair of translations can be, take a quick look at the following two translations of Matthew 6:9-13.
KJV: “After this manner therefore pray ye: Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.”
The Message: “With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this: Our Father in heaven, Reveal who you are. Set the world right; Do what's best— as above, so below. Keep us alive with three square meals. Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others. Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil. You're in charge! You can do anything you want! You're ablaze in beauty! Yes. Yes. Yes.”
Wow.
Canon to the right of them, canon to the left of them…
#53: “Canon to the right of them, canon to the left of them…” by Brendon Wahlberg
How many books are in the Old Testament? What are their names? What order are they in, and which one comes last? You would think these are easy questions. Just pick up a Bible and look up the answers in the table of contents. Not so fast. It would really depend on where you were standing when you picked up that Bible. Did you grab a Protestant Old Testament or a Catholic one? Or was it a Hebrew Bible (called a Tanakh) from a Synagogue? Take a look at each of these and you’ll find that all of them are different in some way. They include different books, group them differently, divide them differently, and arrange them in different orders. (I won’t even get into the many different Eastern Orthodox Christian Bibles.) Each official list and order of books is canonical for that religion. Let’s take a look at the names of the books in each different kind of Old Testament, and the order in which they appear in modern Bibles.
Hebrew Bible canon
Part 1: Torah - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. Part 2: Prophets - Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Book of the 12 lesser Prophets (includes Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi). Part 3: Writings - Psalms, Proverbs, Job, Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, Esther, Daniel, Ezra (includes Nehemiah), Chronicles. (24 books total)
Catholic Old Testament canon
Part 1: Pentateuch - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. Part 2: Historical Books - Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 Samuel, 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, 2 Kings, 1 Chronicles, 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Tobit, Judith, Esther, 1 Maccabees, 2 Maccabees. Part 3: Wisdom Books - Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Wisdom, Sirach. Part 4: Major Prophets - Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Baruch, Ezekiel, Daniel. Part 5: Minor Prophets - Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi. (46 books total)
Protestant Old Testament canon
Part 1: Pentateuch - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. Part 2: Historical Books - Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 Samuel, 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, 2 Kings, 1 Chronicles, 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther. Part 3: Wisdom Books - Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs. Part 4: Major Prophets - Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel. Part 5: Minor Prophets - Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi. (39 books total)
How did we get to the present day situation, where we have several different Old Testaments? In other words, why do these Bibles have different content and order? To understand this, you should probably not think of the Old Testament as a single book, with all of the smaller books, like Genesis and Jeremiah, collected between a front and back cover. Instead, picture the Bible the way it began, as a pile of loose scrolls. If you are familiar with the Dead Sea scrolls, then you know that among them were multiple copies of the books of the Old Testament. Each book was generally on its own scroll. Isaiah, for example, was on one large scroll. Some books were combined. For example, traditionally, the twelve minor prophets were collected together on one scroll. Sometimes, books were divided because they were too long for one scroll.
As long as the books of Holy Scripture were a pile of scrolls, it was possible to change their order around, or to add or remove one or two if people disagreed about them. Then, the codex was invented. A codex was a bit like our modern books, with sheets of parchment sown together into pages. The codex became popular during the early centuries of Christianity, and many early Christian collections of scripture were written on a codex instead of a scroll. For example, the four Gospels, or a set of Paul’s letters might be written as a codex. When you have a codex instead of scrolls, you can have a fixed collection of books in a particular order. So now you have to decide what those are going to be.
The first important translation of all of the Old Testament scrolls into Greek was called the Septuagint. Jews around the Greek and Roman world used this translation. In the Christian era, the Septuagint was collected in a large codex. But there wasn’t yet a standard order for the books inside it, and so several different orders were used. There was still an attempt to group the books in a way that made sense. The five books of Moses came first, followed by the poetical books, the historical books, and the prophetical books, but these last three categories were placed in various arrangements. Neither was there any kind of official list of books to include, so sometimes a copy of the Septuagint would include books like 1, 2, 3, or 4 Maccabees, the Psalms of Solomon, or the Epistle of Jeremiah, and sometimes it would not.
Meanwhile, the Jews were busy deciding on a canonical list of scriptures. There were some books that were popular among Jews which were ultimately rejected from their canon. The Jews partly made choices based on when books were written, and whether they were written originally in Hebrew. The later the date of writing, the more likely a book was to be rejected. Greek or Aramaic language books were likely to be dumped. The time of truly inspired writings and real prophecy was considered to be over by the time of those books. But contemporary Christians made different choices. Jewish books including Maccabees, Baruch, Tobit, Wisdom, Sirach, and Judith were kept by Christians instead. That is why they appear in the Catholic Old Testament list above.
But not all Christians have agreed on these books. They have been labeled “The Apocrypha” and “deutero-canonical” (secondary canon), but to Catholics, they are simply part of the Bible. When the Protestants split away from the Catholics, they decided that their Old Testament was going to be different. Protestants discarded the Apocrypha, returning to an Old Testament list which matched the list of Hebrew language books which the Jews used in their Tanakh. So, that explains the three different lists of books shown above. Jews and Protestants use the same pared-down list of books, while Catholics retain a larger collection of books dating far back to the early centuries of Christianity.
What about the order of the books as we have them today? Check the lists above again, and you’ll see one interesting difference. Both Catholic and Protestant Christians place the “prophets” last, while Jews place the “writings” last. Each arrangement has meaning for that particular faith. For Jews, the books are placed in order of importance to the community and holiness. The Torah comes first, for it is considered to be the word of God. God speaks through the prophets, so they come next, and finally there are some inspired, man-made writings that develop the ideas of the Torah and the prophets (although some of these writings, like the Song of Songs, were almost not included).
If you think of the Bible as a book that tells a story, every story has an ending. What is the last book of the Hebrew Bible? How does the story “end”? The final book is Chronicles, a retelling of the history of the Jewish people. At the end of that book, it tells of the end of the Babylonian exile, a high and hopeful moment that renewed God’s promise of the Holy Land. “In the first year of King Cyrus of Persia, in fulfillment of the word of the Lord spoken by Jeremiah, the Lord stirred up the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia so that he sent a herald throughout all his kingdom and also declared in a written edict: ‘Thus says King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whoever is among you of all his people, may the Lord his God be with him! Let him go up.’” (2 Chronicles 36:22-23)
Alternatively, you have the Christian Old Testament. For Christians, the books are placed in an order that enables the story of Jesus to be told. The Books of Moses come first, for they tell of the fall of man and the giving of the Law. The Historical books reveal the story of the House of David. The Wisdom books begin to foreshadow Jesus, and the Prophets predict him. The ending of the Old Testament is not an ending at all, but merely a pause before the beginning of the New Testament, the continuation of the story.
What is the last book of the Christian Old Testament? How does the story say “to be continued”? The final book is Malachi, which is the last of the twelve minor prophets. At the end of Malachi, it says, “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.” (Malachi 4:5-6) If you look at it a certain way, this passage makes a pretty good transition to the Gospels, because John the Baptist is said to be Elijah, metaphorically.
To each major faith, their Old Testament is THE Old Testament. But when you take a step back, and look at the big picture, there are many more similarities between these canons than differences. There is much more held in common than held apart. The same inspired writings shared by Jews and Christians, and between Christians of different branches, give all of us common ground to believe we are all God’s children.
How many books are in the Old Testament? What are their names? What order are they in, and which one comes last? You would think these are easy questions. Just pick up a Bible and look up the answers in the table of contents. Not so fast. It would really depend on where you were standing when you picked up that Bible. Did you grab a Protestant Old Testament or a Catholic one? Or was it a Hebrew Bible (called a Tanakh) from a Synagogue? Take a look at each of these and you’ll find that all of them are different in some way. They include different books, group them differently, divide them differently, and arrange them in different orders. (I won’t even get into the many different Eastern Orthodox Christian Bibles.) Each official list and order of books is canonical for that religion. Let’s take a look at the names of the books in each different kind of Old Testament, and the order in which they appear in modern Bibles.
Hebrew Bible canon
Part 1: Torah - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. Part 2: Prophets - Joshua, Judges, Samuel, Kings, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Book of the 12 lesser Prophets (includes Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi). Part 3: Writings - Psalms, Proverbs, Job, Song of Songs, Ruth, Lamentations, Ecclesiastes, Esther, Daniel, Ezra (includes Nehemiah), Chronicles. (24 books total)
Catholic Old Testament canon
Part 1: Pentateuch - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. Part 2: Historical Books - Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 Samuel, 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, 2 Kings, 1 Chronicles, 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Tobit, Judith, Esther, 1 Maccabees, 2 Maccabees. Part 3: Wisdom Books - Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Wisdom, Sirach. Part 4: Major Prophets - Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Baruch, Ezekiel, Daniel. Part 5: Minor Prophets - Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi. (46 books total)
Protestant Old Testament canon
Part 1: Pentateuch - Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy. Part 2: Historical Books - Joshua, Judges, Ruth, 1 Samuel, 2 Samuel, 1 Kings, 2 Kings, 1 Chronicles, 2 Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther. Part 3: Wisdom Books - Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs. Part 4: Major Prophets - Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Ezekiel, Daniel. Part 5: Minor Prophets - Hosea, Joel, Amos, Obadiah, Jonah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi. (39 books total)
How did we get to the present day situation, where we have several different Old Testaments? In other words, why do these Bibles have different content and order? To understand this, you should probably not think of the Old Testament as a single book, with all of the smaller books, like Genesis and Jeremiah, collected between a front and back cover. Instead, picture the Bible the way it began, as a pile of loose scrolls. If you are familiar with the Dead Sea scrolls, then you know that among them were multiple copies of the books of the Old Testament. Each book was generally on its own scroll. Isaiah, for example, was on one large scroll. Some books were combined. For example, traditionally, the twelve minor prophets were collected together on one scroll. Sometimes, books were divided because they were too long for one scroll.
As long as the books of Holy Scripture were a pile of scrolls, it was possible to change their order around, or to add or remove one or two if people disagreed about them. Then, the codex was invented. A codex was a bit like our modern books, with sheets of parchment sown together into pages. The codex became popular during the early centuries of Christianity, and many early Christian collections of scripture were written on a codex instead of a scroll. For example, the four Gospels, or a set of Paul’s letters might be written as a codex. When you have a codex instead of scrolls, you can have a fixed collection of books in a particular order. So now you have to decide what those are going to be.
The first important translation of all of the Old Testament scrolls into Greek was called the Septuagint. Jews around the Greek and Roman world used this translation. In the Christian era, the Septuagint was collected in a large codex. But there wasn’t yet a standard order for the books inside it, and so several different orders were used. There was still an attempt to group the books in a way that made sense. The five books of Moses came first, followed by the poetical books, the historical books, and the prophetical books, but these last three categories were placed in various arrangements. Neither was there any kind of official list of books to include, so sometimes a copy of the Septuagint would include books like 1, 2, 3, or 4 Maccabees, the Psalms of Solomon, or the Epistle of Jeremiah, and sometimes it would not.
Meanwhile, the Jews were busy deciding on a canonical list of scriptures. There were some books that were popular among Jews which were ultimately rejected from their canon. The Jews partly made choices based on when books were written, and whether they were written originally in Hebrew. The later the date of writing, the more likely a book was to be rejected. Greek or Aramaic language books were likely to be dumped. The time of truly inspired writings and real prophecy was considered to be over by the time of those books. But contemporary Christians made different choices. Jewish books including Maccabees, Baruch, Tobit, Wisdom, Sirach, and Judith were kept by Christians instead. That is why they appear in the Catholic Old Testament list above.
But not all Christians have agreed on these books. They have been labeled “The Apocrypha” and “deutero-canonical” (secondary canon), but to Catholics, they are simply part of the Bible. When the Protestants split away from the Catholics, they decided that their Old Testament was going to be different. Protestants discarded the Apocrypha, returning to an Old Testament list which matched the list of Hebrew language books which the Jews used in their Tanakh. So, that explains the three different lists of books shown above. Jews and Protestants use the same pared-down list of books, while Catholics retain a larger collection of books dating far back to the early centuries of Christianity.
What about the order of the books as we have them today? Check the lists above again, and you’ll see one interesting difference. Both Catholic and Protestant Christians place the “prophets” last, while Jews place the “writings” last. Each arrangement has meaning for that particular faith. For Jews, the books are placed in order of importance to the community and holiness. The Torah comes first, for it is considered to be the word of God. God speaks through the prophets, so they come next, and finally there are some inspired, man-made writings that develop the ideas of the Torah and the prophets (although some of these writings, like the Song of Songs, were almost not included).
If you think of the Bible as a book that tells a story, every story has an ending. What is the last book of the Hebrew Bible? How does the story “end”? The final book is Chronicles, a retelling of the history of the Jewish people. At the end of that book, it tells of the end of the Babylonian exile, a high and hopeful moment that renewed God’s promise of the Holy Land. “In the first year of King Cyrus of Persia, in fulfillment of the word of the Lord spoken by Jeremiah, the Lord stirred up the spirit of King Cyrus of Persia so that he sent a herald throughout all his kingdom and also declared in a written edict: ‘Thus says King Cyrus of Persia: The Lord, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whoever is among you of all his people, may the Lord his God be with him! Let him go up.’” (2 Chronicles 36:22-23)
Alternatively, you have the Christian Old Testament. For Christians, the books are placed in an order that enables the story of Jesus to be told. The Books of Moses come first, for they tell of the fall of man and the giving of the Law. The Historical books reveal the story of the House of David. The Wisdom books begin to foreshadow Jesus, and the Prophets predict him. The ending of the Old Testament is not an ending at all, but merely a pause before the beginning of the New Testament, the continuation of the story.
What is the last book of the Christian Old Testament? How does the story say “to be continued”? The final book is Malachi, which is the last of the twelve minor prophets. At the end of Malachi, it says, “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.” (Malachi 4:5-6) If you look at it a certain way, this passage makes a pretty good transition to the Gospels, because John the Baptist is said to be Elijah, metaphorically.
To each major faith, their Old Testament is THE Old Testament. But when you take a step back, and look at the big picture, there are many more similarities between these canons than differences. There is much more held in common than held apart. The same inspired writings shared by Jews and Christians, and between Christians of different branches, give all of us common ground to believe we are all God’s children.
And the Vision that was planted in my brain, still remains…
#52: “And the Vision that was planted in my brain, still remains…” by Brendon Wahlberg
It is said that a historian can never judge for sure whether an event like the resurrection actually occurred. The same would be true for judging whether someone really had a vision from God. Long ago, a man named Saul and a man named Constantine each had his own vision of Jesus; these visions changed their lives and altered the history of Christianity. It is commonly believed that (1) these visions really happened, and that (2) they were from God, who was acting in history to bring about his will. Was this true? A historian cannot ever say for sure, but hey, I’m not a historian, so I am free to ask the question. But how can we judge? I suggest that if the vision was real, then it should have really changed the man who saw it. And, if the vision really was from God, acting to affect history, then the result should have been a positive change for Christians in the world.
Let’s consider Saul first, but only briefly. People are already familiar with Saul, and I want to devote more time to Constantine. The book of Acts tells us that Saul was on his way to continue persecuting the followers of Jesus, when suddenly he had a vision. “Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’ He asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ The reply came, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” (Acts 9:1-5)
The historian cannot decide, either way, whether Saul’s vision was real, or if he made it up. But the person of faith can ask whether Saul was truly changed by the experience. The Christian experience is often a transformative one. As we know from reading the New Testament, Saul was absolutely and utterly changed. He made a complete turnaround. He stopped persecuting Jesus’ followers and became one himself. He devoted the rest of his life to travelling around the Mediterranean world, starting new Churches and making new converts. He suffered for his mission. He was beaten and imprisoned, and in the end, he was beheaded for his faith.
The person of faith can also ask whether Saul’s vision was really from God. If it was, then what was God’s plan, his reason for sending the vision? And, did Christians as a whole benefit from that plan? Was there a positive change in Christian history because of Saul’s vision? Actually, although Jesus did not explain his plan directly to Paul in the passage above, he did explain it to a man named Ananias, who explained it to Saul. “[…] for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.’” (Acts 9:15-16)
Knowing this, we can ask whether Saul did indeed bring the Lord’s name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel. And of course, the answer is yes. Because of his vision, Saul acted according to God’s plan. If Christianity had remained solely a Jewish movement in Jerusalem as it was in the beginning, then it probably would have been wiped out when that community and that city was destroyed in the war against Rome. Saul helped to spread Christianity to the Gentiles, avoiding that outcome and changing Christian history in a positive way. Saul also wrote his famous letters which make up a large part of our New Testament two thousand years later. The ideas in those letters have shaped the entire history of Christianity. A person of faith may well conclude that the vision sent to Saul was really from God. It would be hard to argue otherwise.
With the example of Saul’s vision in mind, let’s turn our attention to the Roman Emperor Constantine. Like Saul, Constantine also had a vision of Jesus, a vision that changed Christian history forever. Was this vision real? Was this vision really from God, working in history to fulfill his plan? Again, I suggest we judge by asking whether the vision changed the man himself, and whether the vision brought about a positive change for Christians as a whole.
Constantine was born in the year 272CE, in a time when the Roman Empire was fractured into eastern and western parts, and ruled by two or even three Emperors at once. In 312CE, when he was forty years old, Constantine was a General at the head of an army, fighting his rivals for control of the Empire. That year, at the Battle of Milvian Bridge, he had his vision. The contemporary historian Eusebius wrote about it in detail. Constantine was preparing for battle by praying for help, not to the multitude of pagan gods, but to the Christian God his mother Helena worshipped.
Eusebius wrote, “[…] about noon, when the day was already beginning to decline, he saw with his own eyes the trophy of a cross of light in the heavens, above the sun, and bearing the inscription, CONQUER BY THIS. At this sight he himself was struck with amazement, and his whole army also, which followed him on this expedition, and witnessed the miracle. He said, moreover, that he doubted within himself what the import of this apparition could be. And while he continued to ponder and reason on its meaning, night suddenly came on; then in his sleep the Christ of God appeared to him with the same sign which he had seen in the heavens, and commanded him to make a likeness of that sign which he had seen in the heavens, and to use it as a safeguard in all engagements with his enemies.” Eusebius wrote that the sign was “the symbol of the Savior's name, two letters indicating the name of Christ by means of its initial characters, the letter P being intersected by X in its center […] The emperor constantly made use of this sign of salvation as a safeguard against every adverse and hostile power, and commanded that others similar to it should be carried at the head of all his armies.” (Life of Constantine Book 1, excerpts from Chapters 28-31)
With God’s sign protecting him, Constantine went on to win his battles; eventually, he became the sole ruler of the entire Roman Empire, east and west. But was the new Emperor’s vision real? Did it transform him as a person, like Saul was transformed? The reason one might doubt whether the vision was real is that Constantine was a politician seeking ultimate power. To unify a divided Empire, he needed religious unity, and maybe the growing popularity of Christianity inspired him to make up a vision and use the Christian religion as a tool for his own ends. On the other hand, ancient sources say that after his vision, Constantine began to believe personally as a Christian. Was his conversion sincere, and how did it change him?
The answers to these questions are ultimately ambiguous. Unlike Saul, who was transformed immediately and totally, Constantine seems to have changed very gradually over time. After his vision, he lived another twenty-five years, and it is fair to say that it took him that whole time to fully convert to Christianity and fully reject paganism. Of course, he was in a rather unusual position. The Roman Emperor was the “Pontifex Maximus”, the high priest of the pantheon of Roman gods. A lot of citizens were still pagan. But here was Constantine, having newly become a Christian who worshipped an exclusive God who would have no other gods before him. At first, pagan gods were still allowed on coins and Constantine kept his Pontifex title. The Emperor was still worshipped as a supernatural being. Early monuments to the Emperor did not mention Christianity. But slowly, he began to verbally attack paganism, calling it untrue, misguided, and outmoded. He stopped participating in pagan sacrifices. Pagan worship was not outlawed, but it was discouraged. Some pagan temples were closed. There were no pagan martyrs, but eventually, some of the people still refusing Christianity were denied positions of power. Later on, some pagan holidays were combined with Christian holidays (like Saturnalia and the birthday of Jesus, which gave us Christmas). The Emperor grew progressively more Christian over his lifetime. He read the inspired writings. He resolved to worship only the God who had appeared to him. But he was only baptized in the year of his death at age sixty-five.
Was Constantine’s vision real? I lean towards saying yes, because it did transform him, even if it was a slow process. Was his vision really from God? To answer this question, we need to take a quick look at the state of Christianity in the Roman Empire before Constantine’s vision in 312CE. It was actually a very bad time for Christians. The Great Persecution under Emperor Diocletian went from 303-311CE. During this time, the Christian religion was outlawed. Christians were stripped of legal rights and commanded to sacrifice to the Roman gods. Christian buildings and homes were destroyed. Christian books were seized and burned. Christians were arrested, tortured, and put to death in gladiatorial games. The prayers of suffering Christians must have risen up to God to bring about a change.
When change came, Roman Christians believed that Constantine’s vision was really from God. If it was, then what was God’s plan, his reason for sending the vision? And, did Christians benefit from that plan? After Constantine’s vision, what changed for Christians as a whole? In fact, an enormous change occurred. A year after the vision, Constantine issued the Edict of Milan (the Edict of Toleration). It said that all citizens could observe the religion that they preferred. It specifically said that Christians had the undeniable right to practice their religion openly and freely, and without molestation. What a change from the previous few years!
Here is a quick rundown of some other changes that occurred after the vision. The Emperor became a generous financial patron of the Christian religion. He paid for building large churches and pilgrimage sites. He rebuilt Jerusalem and built the Church of the Holy Sepulcher there. He made a new capitol city called Constantinople, which had mostly Christian churches and architecture. He made churches tax exempt. Sunday was made an official day of worship and rest. Complete bibles were commissioned and produced. There were Christian advisors in the Emperor’s court.
Christianity had been an endangered, persecuted religion, and it had become an Imperial religion. Was that according to God’s plan? Well, as much as we can ask such questions, we should consider the flip side of all this change. There were some less-than-Godly results as well, namely corruption and hypocrisy. There was the problem that some people who took positions of leadership in the church really wanted them for the power and the money. Furthermore, Constantine wanted political and religious unity in his Empire. So, although he was a patron of Christianity, he was a patron of only one branch of Christianity. Remember, in those times, there were some very different versions of Christianity floating around. There were those, for example, who rejected the entire Old Testament. There were the Gnostics who believed in secret knowledge as a way to salvation. Under Constantine, those different branches of Christianity were ruthlessly squashed as heresy.
The Council of Nicaea was one example of how the Emperor made sure that all his Christian subjects believed the same thing. A disagreement arose over whether Jesus and God the Father were exactly the same or merely similar. Constantine called a huge gathering of Bishops to resolve the question once and for all. Those who still disagreed were punished. The Emperor didn’t create official doctrine, but he did enforce it. Orthodoxy meant unity to him. This was sadly ironic, and a kind of hypocrisy, because before the Emperor’s vision, there was persecution of all Christians, but after the vision, some Christians were persecuted in the name of rooting out heresy. So ask yourself, if Jesus sent the vision in the first place, would Jesus have approved of all these results? In other words, did the same Jesus who told Saul merely to spread the Lord’s name, even if it meant suffering, also tell General Constantine to conquer an Empire in the Lord’s name, while ruling in splendor? It is not an easy question to answer.
It is interesting to consider the nature of the two visions and how both men responded to them. Both visions, you must admit, were rather brief and cryptic. Saul saw only a quick glimpse of Jesus asking: why do you persecute me? Did Saul respond by simply stopping the persecution and minding his own business after that? No, he devoted the rest of his life to spreading the message he had tried to squash. Constantine saw only a quick glimpse of Jesus telling him to use a symbol and win a battle. Did Constantine respond by simply winning his battle, saying thanks God, and never giving Christianity another thought once he was in power? No, he devoted the rest of his life to growing as a Christian and advancing the religion as an official Roman faith. It would seem that a little Jesus goes a long way. A brief and cryptic vision can have a broad and far reaching effect. This implies that a lot of what happens in such cases is that God has a plan, but God only gives a small shove towards that plan. The rest is up to us. Hopefully God chooses his tools well; even very unlikely people like Saul (who arrested Christians) and Constantine (who was a pagan military leader) can indeed change the world for Christians in a positive way. The end result of each vision was that the number of Christians in the world grew. Surely that was part of God’s plan – the growth of the Kingdom of God here on Earth.
It is said that a historian can never judge for sure whether an event like the resurrection actually occurred. The same would be true for judging whether someone really had a vision from God. Long ago, a man named Saul and a man named Constantine each had his own vision of Jesus; these visions changed their lives and altered the history of Christianity. It is commonly believed that (1) these visions really happened, and that (2) they were from God, who was acting in history to bring about his will. Was this true? A historian cannot ever say for sure, but hey, I’m not a historian, so I am free to ask the question. But how can we judge? I suggest that if the vision was real, then it should have really changed the man who saw it. And, if the vision really was from God, acting to affect history, then the result should have been a positive change for Christians in the world.
Let’s consider Saul first, but only briefly. People are already familiar with Saul, and I want to devote more time to Constantine. The book of Acts tells us that Saul was on his way to continue persecuting the followers of Jesus, when suddenly he had a vision. “Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?’ He asked, ‘Who are you, Lord?’ The reply came, ‘I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” (Acts 9:1-5)
The historian cannot decide, either way, whether Saul’s vision was real, or if he made it up. But the person of faith can ask whether Saul was truly changed by the experience. The Christian experience is often a transformative one. As we know from reading the New Testament, Saul was absolutely and utterly changed. He made a complete turnaround. He stopped persecuting Jesus’ followers and became one himself. He devoted the rest of his life to travelling around the Mediterranean world, starting new Churches and making new converts. He suffered for his mission. He was beaten and imprisoned, and in the end, he was beheaded for his faith.
The person of faith can also ask whether Saul’s vision was really from God. If it was, then what was God’s plan, his reason for sending the vision? And, did Christians as a whole benefit from that plan? Was there a positive change in Christian history because of Saul’s vision? Actually, although Jesus did not explain his plan directly to Paul in the passage above, he did explain it to a man named Ananias, who explained it to Saul. “[…] for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.’” (Acts 9:15-16)
Knowing this, we can ask whether Saul did indeed bring the Lord’s name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel. And of course, the answer is yes. Because of his vision, Saul acted according to God’s plan. If Christianity had remained solely a Jewish movement in Jerusalem as it was in the beginning, then it probably would have been wiped out when that community and that city was destroyed in the war against Rome. Saul helped to spread Christianity to the Gentiles, avoiding that outcome and changing Christian history in a positive way. Saul also wrote his famous letters which make up a large part of our New Testament two thousand years later. The ideas in those letters have shaped the entire history of Christianity. A person of faith may well conclude that the vision sent to Saul was really from God. It would be hard to argue otherwise.
With the example of Saul’s vision in mind, let’s turn our attention to the Roman Emperor Constantine. Like Saul, Constantine also had a vision of Jesus, a vision that changed Christian history forever. Was this vision real? Was this vision really from God, working in history to fulfill his plan? Again, I suggest we judge by asking whether the vision changed the man himself, and whether the vision brought about a positive change for Christians as a whole.
Constantine was born in the year 272CE, in a time when the Roman Empire was fractured into eastern and western parts, and ruled by two or even three Emperors at once. In 312CE, when he was forty years old, Constantine was a General at the head of an army, fighting his rivals for control of the Empire. That year, at the Battle of Milvian Bridge, he had his vision. The contemporary historian Eusebius wrote about it in detail. Constantine was preparing for battle by praying for help, not to the multitude of pagan gods, but to the Christian God his mother Helena worshipped.
Eusebius wrote, “[…] about noon, when the day was already beginning to decline, he saw with his own eyes the trophy of a cross of light in the heavens, above the sun, and bearing the inscription, CONQUER BY THIS. At this sight he himself was struck with amazement, and his whole army also, which followed him on this expedition, and witnessed the miracle. He said, moreover, that he doubted within himself what the import of this apparition could be. And while he continued to ponder and reason on its meaning, night suddenly came on; then in his sleep the Christ of God appeared to him with the same sign which he had seen in the heavens, and commanded him to make a likeness of that sign which he had seen in the heavens, and to use it as a safeguard in all engagements with his enemies.” Eusebius wrote that the sign was “the symbol of the Savior's name, two letters indicating the name of Christ by means of its initial characters, the letter P being intersected by X in its center […] The emperor constantly made use of this sign of salvation as a safeguard against every adverse and hostile power, and commanded that others similar to it should be carried at the head of all his armies.” (Life of Constantine Book 1, excerpts from Chapters 28-31)
With God’s sign protecting him, Constantine went on to win his battles; eventually, he became the sole ruler of the entire Roman Empire, east and west. But was the new Emperor’s vision real? Did it transform him as a person, like Saul was transformed? The reason one might doubt whether the vision was real is that Constantine was a politician seeking ultimate power. To unify a divided Empire, he needed religious unity, and maybe the growing popularity of Christianity inspired him to make up a vision and use the Christian religion as a tool for his own ends. On the other hand, ancient sources say that after his vision, Constantine began to believe personally as a Christian. Was his conversion sincere, and how did it change him?
The answers to these questions are ultimately ambiguous. Unlike Saul, who was transformed immediately and totally, Constantine seems to have changed very gradually over time. After his vision, he lived another twenty-five years, and it is fair to say that it took him that whole time to fully convert to Christianity and fully reject paganism. Of course, he was in a rather unusual position. The Roman Emperor was the “Pontifex Maximus”, the high priest of the pantheon of Roman gods. A lot of citizens were still pagan. But here was Constantine, having newly become a Christian who worshipped an exclusive God who would have no other gods before him. At first, pagan gods were still allowed on coins and Constantine kept his Pontifex title. The Emperor was still worshipped as a supernatural being. Early monuments to the Emperor did not mention Christianity. But slowly, he began to verbally attack paganism, calling it untrue, misguided, and outmoded. He stopped participating in pagan sacrifices. Pagan worship was not outlawed, but it was discouraged. Some pagan temples were closed. There were no pagan martyrs, but eventually, some of the people still refusing Christianity were denied positions of power. Later on, some pagan holidays were combined with Christian holidays (like Saturnalia and the birthday of Jesus, which gave us Christmas). The Emperor grew progressively more Christian over his lifetime. He read the inspired writings. He resolved to worship only the God who had appeared to him. But he was only baptized in the year of his death at age sixty-five.
Was Constantine’s vision real? I lean towards saying yes, because it did transform him, even if it was a slow process. Was his vision really from God? To answer this question, we need to take a quick look at the state of Christianity in the Roman Empire before Constantine’s vision in 312CE. It was actually a very bad time for Christians. The Great Persecution under Emperor Diocletian went from 303-311CE. During this time, the Christian religion was outlawed. Christians were stripped of legal rights and commanded to sacrifice to the Roman gods. Christian buildings and homes were destroyed. Christian books were seized and burned. Christians were arrested, tortured, and put to death in gladiatorial games. The prayers of suffering Christians must have risen up to God to bring about a change.
When change came, Roman Christians believed that Constantine’s vision was really from God. If it was, then what was God’s plan, his reason for sending the vision? And, did Christians benefit from that plan? After Constantine’s vision, what changed for Christians as a whole? In fact, an enormous change occurred. A year after the vision, Constantine issued the Edict of Milan (the Edict of Toleration). It said that all citizens could observe the religion that they preferred. It specifically said that Christians had the undeniable right to practice their religion openly and freely, and without molestation. What a change from the previous few years!
Here is a quick rundown of some other changes that occurred after the vision. The Emperor became a generous financial patron of the Christian religion. He paid for building large churches and pilgrimage sites. He rebuilt Jerusalem and built the Church of the Holy Sepulcher there. He made a new capitol city called Constantinople, which had mostly Christian churches and architecture. He made churches tax exempt. Sunday was made an official day of worship and rest. Complete bibles were commissioned and produced. There were Christian advisors in the Emperor’s court.
Christianity had been an endangered, persecuted religion, and it had become an Imperial religion. Was that according to God’s plan? Well, as much as we can ask such questions, we should consider the flip side of all this change. There were some less-than-Godly results as well, namely corruption and hypocrisy. There was the problem that some people who took positions of leadership in the church really wanted them for the power and the money. Furthermore, Constantine wanted political and religious unity in his Empire. So, although he was a patron of Christianity, he was a patron of only one branch of Christianity. Remember, in those times, there were some very different versions of Christianity floating around. There were those, for example, who rejected the entire Old Testament. There were the Gnostics who believed in secret knowledge as a way to salvation. Under Constantine, those different branches of Christianity were ruthlessly squashed as heresy.
The Council of Nicaea was one example of how the Emperor made sure that all his Christian subjects believed the same thing. A disagreement arose over whether Jesus and God the Father were exactly the same or merely similar. Constantine called a huge gathering of Bishops to resolve the question once and for all. Those who still disagreed were punished. The Emperor didn’t create official doctrine, but he did enforce it. Orthodoxy meant unity to him. This was sadly ironic, and a kind of hypocrisy, because before the Emperor’s vision, there was persecution of all Christians, but after the vision, some Christians were persecuted in the name of rooting out heresy. So ask yourself, if Jesus sent the vision in the first place, would Jesus have approved of all these results? In other words, did the same Jesus who told Saul merely to spread the Lord’s name, even if it meant suffering, also tell General Constantine to conquer an Empire in the Lord’s name, while ruling in splendor? It is not an easy question to answer.
It is interesting to consider the nature of the two visions and how both men responded to them. Both visions, you must admit, were rather brief and cryptic. Saul saw only a quick glimpse of Jesus asking: why do you persecute me? Did Saul respond by simply stopping the persecution and minding his own business after that? No, he devoted the rest of his life to spreading the message he had tried to squash. Constantine saw only a quick glimpse of Jesus telling him to use a symbol and win a battle. Did Constantine respond by simply winning his battle, saying thanks God, and never giving Christianity another thought once he was in power? No, he devoted the rest of his life to growing as a Christian and advancing the religion as an official Roman faith. It would seem that a little Jesus goes a long way. A brief and cryptic vision can have a broad and far reaching effect. This implies that a lot of what happens in such cases is that God has a plan, but God only gives a small shove towards that plan. The rest is up to us. Hopefully God chooses his tools well; even very unlikely people like Saul (who arrested Christians) and Constantine (who was a pagan military leader) can indeed change the world for Christians in a positive way. The end result of each vision was that the number of Christians in the world grew. Surely that was part of God’s plan – the growth of the Kingdom of God here on Earth.
Christian Apocrypha: Mary as a Kid
#51: “Christian Apocrypha: Mary as a Kid” by Brendon Wahlberg
Previously, this column has taken a look at a few ancient Christian writings which did not make it into the New Testament, such as the “Acts of Peter”, the “Shepherd of Hermas”, “The Acts of Paul”, and the “Infancy Gospel of Thomas”. All of these writings were once popular, but when it came to including them in the Christian canon, the Church fathers judged that they were written well after the Apostolic age, and rejected them. But just because something was left out of the New Testament collection, that does not mean it was not a widely read or even a beloved book. This month, we will look at just such a document, the “Protoevangelion of James”, a story of the childhood of Mary, the mother of Jesus. This “proto-gospel” was the beginning of the veneration of Mary, and it inspired artists and the faithful for many centuries.
Although it has had several titles, this story of Mary is often called a “proto-gospel” because the events it described take place mostly before any of the events in the canonical gospels, Mark, Luke, Matthew, and John. And, although the name of James (the Just), the brother of Jesus, is attached to the proto-gospel, it was not written by James. The proto-gospel clearly quotes and builds upon Matthew and Luke, and those two gospels were written after James died in 62CE. The consensus is that the proto-gospel was written in James’ name around 150CE. It was acceptable for religious writings to have the name of a prophet or an apostle attached to them. It was not forgery, but a way to lend the writing a kind of authority in the tradition of the person named. So, although the real James might well have been in a position to know the details of Mary’s youth, the stories found in the proto-gospel are probably fictional, yet still intended to teach essential spiritual lessons to the faithful.
The main point of the proto-gospel is that Mary was chosen by God to be the mother of Jesus because Mary was pure. How pure was she? She was so extraordinarily pure, that not only was she a virgin when she conceived Jesus, she also remained a virgin forever more. To make this point, the proto-gospel has to assert that the brothers and sisters of Jesus, mentioned in the New Testament, were the children of Joseph from a previous marriage, and that Joseph was much older than Mary. It was this teaching that led to the decline of the proto-gospel. The Catholic Church taught instead that James and the others were Jesus’ cousins, and discouraged reading of the proto-gospel.
James begins by introducing the parents of Mary, who are not named in the New Testament. Joachim is a very rich man in Israel who is distressed that he does not have a child. He goes out to the wilderness to fast and pray. His wife Anna also laments her childlessness. The people around her believe that God has cursed her with barrenness. Praying in her garden, she hears an angel say, “You will conceive and give birth, and your child will be talked about all over the world.” And Anna said, “As the Lord God lives, whether I give birth to a boy or a girl, I’ll offer it as a gift to the Lord my God, and it will serve him its whole life.” In other words, Anna’s child will be a ward of the Temple, living and serving there always. Another angel has spoken to Joachim; he returns from the wilderness, and the couple is reunited in joy.
Mary is born nine months later. When the infant Mary is six months old, Anna puts her on the ground to see if she can stand. Mary walks seven steps to her mother’s arms, and Anna picks her up, saying, “…you will never walk on this ground again until I take you into the temple of the Lord.” Mary’s bedroom becomes a pure sanctuary. Nothing unclean is allowed in there – neither unclean food nor defiled people. On her first birthday, Mary is presented at her home to visiting priests from the Temple, who ask God to “look on this child and bless her with the ultimate blessing, one which cannot be surpassed.”
When Mary is two, Joachim suggests that it is time to give her to the Temple, but Anna decides to wait until Mary is three, so that she will be better able to leave her mother and father. At age three, Mary does go to the Temple, where a priest greets her, saying, “In you the Lord will disclose his redemption to the people of Israel during the last days.” Set down on the steps of the altar, Mary happily dances. Her parents leave her there to live, fulfilling their promise to God. Mary is raised near the Holy of Holies, and she is fed by angels.
However, when Mary is twelve and about to begin menstruation, the priests realize that she cannot stay any longer without polluting the sanctuary. God tells the high priest Zechariah to find a ward for Mary among the widowers of Israel. A miraculous sign helps to choose a carpenter named Joseph from the crowd. “Joseph,” the high priest said, “you’ve been chosen by lot to take the virgin of the Lord into your care and protection.” But Joseph objected: “I already have sons and I’m an old man; she’s only a young woman.” The proto-gospel is different from the canonical gospels in making Joseph an old man, a widower, and the ward of Mary instead of her husband. Joseph, afraid of being punished for disobeying God, takes Mary to be protected at his home while he is away building houses.
Mary spends her time spinning thread for a new curtain for the Temple. An angel appears to her at age sixteen, saying, “You’ve found favor in the sight of the Lord of all. You will conceive by means of his word.” Mary asks, “Will I also give birth the way women usually do?” The angel answers, “No, Mary, because the power of God will overshadow you. Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, son of the most high.” In this way, the proto-gospel assures the reader that Mary will remain a virgin even after giving birth.
Joseph returns home to find Mary six months pregnant. He believes that someone has violated her and impregnated her. But an angel tells Joseph in a dream that the child is from the Holy Spirit. The scribe Annas reports to the high priest that Joseph is responsible for violating the virgin in his care, and both Mary and Joseph are put on trial. Both claim innocence. So the high priest administers a mysterious test, giving them a ritual drink and sending them to the wilderness. They both pass the test by returning unharmed, proving that they have not sinned.
Joseph and his sons, and Mary, travel to Bethlehem to enroll in a census, and along the way, Mary goes into labor. They find privacy in a nearby cave, where Mary gives birth to Jesus. At the moment of birth, Joseph is amazed to see time and nature standing still. He enlists the aid of a Hebrew midwife from the hill country, who witnesses an intense light in the cave and then sees the infant Jesus. The midwife tells a woman named Salome that a virgin has given birth. Much like “doubting” Thomas, Salome declares that she must insert her finger into Mary in order to believe it. But when she does so, her hand is consumed by flames. Salome begs for forgiveness for her disbelief. An angel tells Salome to pick up Jesus. Salome says, “I’ll worship him because he’s been born to be king of Israel,” and she is healed.
The birth of Jesus in a cave is an interesting departure from the canonical gospels. In the proto-gospel, when astrologers visit Jesus with gifts, they visit him in the cave. The manger (from Luke) only comes into the story when Mary, hearing that Herod is killing infants, hides Jesus in a feeding trough to keep him safe. Some Christian artists in the Middle Ages depicted Jesus being born in a cave, thanks to this non-canonical gospel. Some artists have even combined the accounts of Luke and James by placing the manger inside a cave.
The proto-gospel of James was based on a combination of the gospels of Matthew and Luke, but it has its own unique character. This gospel marked the beginning of the veneration of Mary. Mary was chosen by God, this gospel says, because she remained pure throughout her childhood, at home and in the Temple, and pure later on as well. James does not have the Immaculate Conception, but he does have Mary as a perpetual virgin.
The proto-gospel’s focus on purity and virginity may arise out of the religious concerns at the time it was written, in the second century. Sexual self control and chastity were valued by many Christians. Another example of a chaste heroine from that time period is Thecla, from the story of “Paul and Thecla”. But Mary surpasses everyone else in purity.
James may also have been written as part of an ongoing defense of Christianity against the attacks of a second century anti-Christian Roman writer named Celcus. The historian Origen wrote about Celcus’ argument against the virgin birth. According to Origen, Celcus “accuses Him [Jesus] of having “invented his birth from a virgin,” and upbraids Him with being “born in a certain Jewish village, of a poor woman of the country, who gained her subsistence by spinning, and who was turned out of doors by her husband, a carpenter by trade, because she was convicted of adultery; that after being driven away by her husband, and wandering about for a time, she disgracefully gave birth to Jesus, an illegitimate child.” The proto-gospel of James almost seems like it was designed to refute all of those attacks, and to defend Mary.
Previously, this column has taken a look at a few ancient Christian writings which did not make it into the New Testament, such as the “Acts of Peter”, the “Shepherd of Hermas”, “The Acts of Paul”, and the “Infancy Gospel of Thomas”. All of these writings were once popular, but when it came to including them in the Christian canon, the Church fathers judged that they were written well after the Apostolic age, and rejected them. But just because something was left out of the New Testament collection, that does not mean it was not a widely read or even a beloved book. This month, we will look at just such a document, the “Protoevangelion of James”, a story of the childhood of Mary, the mother of Jesus. This “proto-gospel” was the beginning of the veneration of Mary, and it inspired artists and the faithful for many centuries.
Although it has had several titles, this story of Mary is often called a “proto-gospel” because the events it described take place mostly before any of the events in the canonical gospels, Mark, Luke, Matthew, and John. And, although the name of James (the Just), the brother of Jesus, is attached to the proto-gospel, it was not written by James. The proto-gospel clearly quotes and builds upon Matthew and Luke, and those two gospels were written after James died in 62CE. The consensus is that the proto-gospel was written in James’ name around 150CE. It was acceptable for religious writings to have the name of a prophet or an apostle attached to them. It was not forgery, but a way to lend the writing a kind of authority in the tradition of the person named. So, although the real James might well have been in a position to know the details of Mary’s youth, the stories found in the proto-gospel are probably fictional, yet still intended to teach essential spiritual lessons to the faithful.
The main point of the proto-gospel is that Mary was chosen by God to be the mother of Jesus because Mary was pure. How pure was she? She was so extraordinarily pure, that not only was she a virgin when she conceived Jesus, she also remained a virgin forever more. To make this point, the proto-gospel has to assert that the brothers and sisters of Jesus, mentioned in the New Testament, were the children of Joseph from a previous marriage, and that Joseph was much older than Mary. It was this teaching that led to the decline of the proto-gospel. The Catholic Church taught instead that James and the others were Jesus’ cousins, and discouraged reading of the proto-gospel.
James begins by introducing the parents of Mary, who are not named in the New Testament. Joachim is a very rich man in Israel who is distressed that he does not have a child. He goes out to the wilderness to fast and pray. His wife Anna also laments her childlessness. The people around her believe that God has cursed her with barrenness. Praying in her garden, she hears an angel say, “You will conceive and give birth, and your child will be talked about all over the world.” And Anna said, “As the Lord God lives, whether I give birth to a boy or a girl, I’ll offer it as a gift to the Lord my God, and it will serve him its whole life.” In other words, Anna’s child will be a ward of the Temple, living and serving there always. Another angel has spoken to Joachim; he returns from the wilderness, and the couple is reunited in joy.
Mary is born nine months later. When the infant Mary is six months old, Anna puts her on the ground to see if she can stand. Mary walks seven steps to her mother’s arms, and Anna picks her up, saying, “…you will never walk on this ground again until I take you into the temple of the Lord.” Mary’s bedroom becomes a pure sanctuary. Nothing unclean is allowed in there – neither unclean food nor defiled people. On her first birthday, Mary is presented at her home to visiting priests from the Temple, who ask God to “look on this child and bless her with the ultimate blessing, one which cannot be surpassed.”
When Mary is two, Joachim suggests that it is time to give her to the Temple, but Anna decides to wait until Mary is three, so that she will be better able to leave her mother and father. At age three, Mary does go to the Temple, where a priest greets her, saying, “In you the Lord will disclose his redemption to the people of Israel during the last days.” Set down on the steps of the altar, Mary happily dances. Her parents leave her there to live, fulfilling their promise to God. Mary is raised near the Holy of Holies, and she is fed by angels.
However, when Mary is twelve and about to begin menstruation, the priests realize that she cannot stay any longer without polluting the sanctuary. God tells the high priest Zechariah to find a ward for Mary among the widowers of Israel. A miraculous sign helps to choose a carpenter named Joseph from the crowd. “Joseph,” the high priest said, “you’ve been chosen by lot to take the virgin of the Lord into your care and protection.” But Joseph objected: “I already have sons and I’m an old man; she’s only a young woman.” The proto-gospel is different from the canonical gospels in making Joseph an old man, a widower, and the ward of Mary instead of her husband. Joseph, afraid of being punished for disobeying God, takes Mary to be protected at his home while he is away building houses.
Mary spends her time spinning thread for a new curtain for the Temple. An angel appears to her at age sixteen, saying, “You’ve found favor in the sight of the Lord of all. You will conceive by means of his word.” Mary asks, “Will I also give birth the way women usually do?” The angel answers, “No, Mary, because the power of God will overshadow you. Therefore, the child to be born will be called holy, son of the most high.” In this way, the proto-gospel assures the reader that Mary will remain a virgin even after giving birth.
Joseph returns home to find Mary six months pregnant. He believes that someone has violated her and impregnated her. But an angel tells Joseph in a dream that the child is from the Holy Spirit. The scribe Annas reports to the high priest that Joseph is responsible for violating the virgin in his care, and both Mary and Joseph are put on trial. Both claim innocence. So the high priest administers a mysterious test, giving them a ritual drink and sending them to the wilderness. They both pass the test by returning unharmed, proving that they have not sinned.
Joseph and his sons, and Mary, travel to Bethlehem to enroll in a census, and along the way, Mary goes into labor. They find privacy in a nearby cave, where Mary gives birth to Jesus. At the moment of birth, Joseph is amazed to see time and nature standing still. He enlists the aid of a Hebrew midwife from the hill country, who witnesses an intense light in the cave and then sees the infant Jesus. The midwife tells a woman named Salome that a virgin has given birth. Much like “doubting” Thomas, Salome declares that she must insert her finger into Mary in order to believe it. But when she does so, her hand is consumed by flames. Salome begs for forgiveness for her disbelief. An angel tells Salome to pick up Jesus. Salome says, “I’ll worship him because he’s been born to be king of Israel,” and she is healed.
The birth of Jesus in a cave is an interesting departure from the canonical gospels. In the proto-gospel, when astrologers visit Jesus with gifts, they visit him in the cave. The manger (from Luke) only comes into the story when Mary, hearing that Herod is killing infants, hides Jesus in a feeding trough to keep him safe. Some Christian artists in the Middle Ages depicted Jesus being born in a cave, thanks to this non-canonical gospel. Some artists have even combined the accounts of Luke and James by placing the manger inside a cave.
The proto-gospel of James was based on a combination of the gospels of Matthew and Luke, but it has its own unique character. This gospel marked the beginning of the veneration of Mary. Mary was chosen by God, this gospel says, because she remained pure throughout her childhood, at home and in the Temple, and pure later on as well. James does not have the Immaculate Conception, but he does have Mary as a perpetual virgin.
The proto-gospel’s focus on purity and virginity may arise out of the religious concerns at the time it was written, in the second century. Sexual self control and chastity were valued by many Christians. Another example of a chaste heroine from that time period is Thecla, from the story of “Paul and Thecla”. But Mary surpasses everyone else in purity.
James may also have been written as part of an ongoing defense of Christianity against the attacks of a second century anti-Christian Roman writer named Celcus. The historian Origen wrote about Celcus’ argument against the virgin birth. According to Origen, Celcus “accuses Him [Jesus] of having “invented his birth from a virgin,” and upbraids Him with being “born in a certain Jewish village, of a poor woman of the country, who gained her subsistence by spinning, and who was turned out of doors by her husband, a carpenter by trade, because she was convicted of adultery; that after being driven away by her husband, and wandering about for a time, she disgracefully gave birth to Jesus, an illegitimate child.” The proto-gospel of James almost seems like it was designed to refute all of those attacks, and to defend Mary.
Christian Apocrypha: Jesus as a Kid
#50: “Christian Apocrypha: Jesus as a Kid” by Brendon Wahlberg
Previously, this column has taken a look at a few ancient Christian writings which did not make it into the New Testament, such as the “Acts of Peter”, the “Shepherd of Hermas”, and “The Acts of Paul”. This time, we will examine a once-popular gospel that claims to tell all about Jesus as a kid. It is called the “Infancy Gospel of Thomas” (not to be confused with the very different “Gospel of Thomas”, a controversial collection of Jesus’ sayings) and although it was once widely read and copied into many languages, few people read it today. The portrait of Jesus it contains is simply too hard for modern readers to take seriously. Could you believe a story that presents Jesus as a bratty child who kills neighbor children who annoy him?
If you are familiar with the Gospel of Luke, you know that it depicts the birth of Jesus and a bit of his infancy, and then it skips to Jesus’ twelfth year with this sentence: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” (Luke 2:40) Around the year 150, an unknown author decided that the brief account in Luke was not enough. Jesus was too important for people not to know more about him. That gap of twelve years had to be filled. Early Christians were hungry for stories about the childhood of Jesus, stories which would show that he was capable of miracles even at a young age. Indeed, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas begins this way:
“I, Thomas the Israelite, make this report to all of you, my brothers among the Gentiles, that you may know the magnificent childhood activities of our Lord Jesus Christ – all that he did after being born in our country.”
Thomas’ first story shows Jesus at five years old on a Sabbath day, playing by a stream, making pools, and purifying the waters in them with a word, perhaps foreshadowing the ritual of baptism. Jesus then takes soft clay and fashions twelve sparrows, but a neighbor complains to Jesus’ father Joseph that the child is violating the Sabbath prohibition against work on that day. Of course, this foreshadows the many arguments which the adult Jesus will have with his fellow Jews over this subject. Joseph chastises his son, but Jesus claps his hands, cries out ‘be gone’ and the clay sparrows come to life and fly away, effectively ending the argument.
It is a reflection of how widespread this story once was, that the miracle of Jesus and the birds made it into chapter five of the Koran. “Then will Allah say: ‘O Jesus the son of Mary! […] Behold! I taught thee the Book and Wisdom, the Law and the Gospel and behold! thou makest out of clay, as it were, the figure of a bird, by My leave, and thou breathest into it and it becometh a bird by My leave…”
A child takes a stick and destroys Jesus’ pools of water. Jesus tells the child that he will be barren and wither away, and immediately it happens. Another child runs by and bumps into Jesus’ shoulder, Jesus tells him that he will go no further, and immediately, the child drops dead. The neighbors are amazed and horrified, and they warn Joseph that he cannot live in the village unless Jesus learns to bless and not to curse, for Jesus is killing the village children. Joseph privately tells Jesus to stop, but Jesus declares that his accusers will be punished, and immediately they go blind. Joseph tries physical punishment, yanking Jesus’ ear, to no avail.
A teacher named Zachaeus promises Joseph to teach Jesus to love, honor, and respect his elders and children his own age, and to teach him to read the Greek alphabet. But Zachaeus is soon frustrated and humbled. Jesus already knows far more than his teacher, and the child lectures the teacher until he is confused and defeated. “Since you do not know the true nature of the Alpha, how can you teach anyone the Beta?” Jesus demands. The teacher gives up, saying, “I beg of you, brother Joseph, take him away. I cannot bear his stern gaze or make sense of a single word. This child is not of this world […] Maybe he was born before the world came into being.” Of course, all this talk of the Alpha, and Jesus being born before the world, clearly reflects the beginning of the Gospel of John.
Jesus laughs and says, “Let the barren bear fruit and let the blind in heart see. I have come from above to curse them and call them to the realm above, just as the one who sent me for your sake commanded.’ When the child stopped speaking, immediately all those who had fallen under his curse were healed. No one dared to anger him from that time on…” Jesus has made his point, and now he reverses the damage he did to the neighbors. Blindness, withering, and death vanish away. Of course, the story of the blind villagers reflects many of the gospel sayings, in which blind people represent those who will not see the gospel truth.
Over the following years, several more healing miracles follow. A child falls from a roof and dies, and Jesus calls him back to life. Jesus next heals a young man’s foot, which had been struck with an axe. Jesus also heals his brother James from a snake bite by breathing on the bite. Jesus touches an infant which had sickened and died, restoring it to life. Some of the villagers begin to want to worship him, saying, “Truly, this child is either God, or an angel of God, for his every word is an accomplished deed.” After yet another raising of the dead, the crowd says, “This child comes from Heaven, for he has saved many souls from death – his entire life he is able to save them.”
At age eight, Jesus sows a single grain of wheat, and harvests one hundred bushels. Then he feeds the wheat to all the poor people. This miracle makes literal some of the agricultural parables of the adult Jesus concerning the great harvest of people in the Kingdom of God. The reader begins to recognize the seeds of the adult Jesus, so to speak.
But Joseph thinks that Jesus still does not know how to read. Joseph tries another teacher, and the result is again a disaster. But the third teacher is wise enough to recognize that Jesus speaks in the Holy Spirit, teaching the Law with great grace and wisdom. This episode leads directly to the ending of the Infancy Gospel, which repeats the same story we find in the Gospel of Luke; at age twelve, Jesus goes to Jerusalem with his parents, gets separated from them, and is finally found teaching the elders in the Temple (Luke 2:46).
The Infancy Gospel was very popular in the Middle Ages, and has influenced much Christian artwork. Translated and copied many times, it comes down to us in a variety of texts with many variations in the details of the story. But of course it is not canonical, and today it is mostly dismissed. Modern readers probably have trouble getting past the image of young Jesus cursing other children to death over minor quarrels. But to be fair, everyone who is cursed or killed in the story is eventually healed or raised back to life. As Jesus grows from age five to age eight, his behavior changes; he is shown to heal many people. He begins to bless and not to curse, just as Joseph and the villagers hoped. The villagers go from fear of him to worship. Is the point here that even the Savior grows and matures? After all, as it says in Luke 2:40, the child grew.
The purpose of such literature is to satisfy the desire to know more about the central figure of a great religion. There are other stories in antiquity like this, in which a famous person is described as a child, and of course in these stories, the famous figure does not act like a child normally would. The point of such stories is precisely that the person was not a normal child at all. How could he have been, when he turned out to be such an amazing adult?
Did the author mean for people to take the Infancy Gospel as a set of true stories? It is hard to say. Beyond an overall sense of humor and exaggeration, much of the content of the Infancy Gospel is, after all, not greatly different from the content of the four accepted Gospels. There are healings and teachings, miracles and enactments of parables. The author apparently tried to make his child Jesus reflect the adult Jesus of the New Testament, in order to teach us something about Jesus. Whether it was “true” was beside the point. Perhaps the best thing we can do with such a story is to let it remain apocryphal while learning the lessons of Christianity which the author wanted to teach to his readers. Jesus was magnificent as an adult and as a child too, the writer teaches us. All his life, even in childhood, Jesus was able to save people. The writer’s Joseph sums it up for us, saying, “I am blessed that God has given me this child.”
Previously, this column has taken a look at a few ancient Christian writings which did not make it into the New Testament, such as the “Acts of Peter”, the “Shepherd of Hermas”, and “The Acts of Paul”. This time, we will examine a once-popular gospel that claims to tell all about Jesus as a kid. It is called the “Infancy Gospel of Thomas” (not to be confused with the very different “Gospel of Thomas”, a controversial collection of Jesus’ sayings) and although it was once widely read and copied into many languages, few people read it today. The portrait of Jesus it contains is simply too hard for modern readers to take seriously. Could you believe a story that presents Jesus as a bratty child who kills neighbor children who annoy him?
If you are familiar with the Gospel of Luke, you know that it depicts the birth of Jesus and a bit of his infancy, and then it skips to Jesus’ twelfth year with this sentence: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” (Luke 2:40) Around the year 150, an unknown author decided that the brief account in Luke was not enough. Jesus was too important for people not to know more about him. That gap of twelve years had to be filled. Early Christians were hungry for stories about the childhood of Jesus, stories which would show that he was capable of miracles even at a young age. Indeed, the Infancy Gospel of Thomas begins this way:
“I, Thomas the Israelite, make this report to all of you, my brothers among the Gentiles, that you may know the magnificent childhood activities of our Lord Jesus Christ – all that he did after being born in our country.”
Thomas’ first story shows Jesus at five years old on a Sabbath day, playing by a stream, making pools, and purifying the waters in them with a word, perhaps foreshadowing the ritual of baptism. Jesus then takes soft clay and fashions twelve sparrows, but a neighbor complains to Jesus’ father Joseph that the child is violating the Sabbath prohibition against work on that day. Of course, this foreshadows the many arguments which the adult Jesus will have with his fellow Jews over this subject. Joseph chastises his son, but Jesus claps his hands, cries out ‘be gone’ and the clay sparrows come to life and fly away, effectively ending the argument.
It is a reflection of how widespread this story once was, that the miracle of Jesus and the birds made it into chapter five of the Koran. “Then will Allah say: ‘O Jesus the son of Mary! […] Behold! I taught thee the Book and Wisdom, the Law and the Gospel and behold! thou makest out of clay, as it were, the figure of a bird, by My leave, and thou breathest into it and it becometh a bird by My leave…”
A child takes a stick and destroys Jesus’ pools of water. Jesus tells the child that he will be barren and wither away, and immediately it happens. Another child runs by and bumps into Jesus’ shoulder, Jesus tells him that he will go no further, and immediately, the child drops dead. The neighbors are amazed and horrified, and they warn Joseph that he cannot live in the village unless Jesus learns to bless and not to curse, for Jesus is killing the village children. Joseph privately tells Jesus to stop, but Jesus declares that his accusers will be punished, and immediately they go blind. Joseph tries physical punishment, yanking Jesus’ ear, to no avail.
A teacher named Zachaeus promises Joseph to teach Jesus to love, honor, and respect his elders and children his own age, and to teach him to read the Greek alphabet. But Zachaeus is soon frustrated and humbled. Jesus already knows far more than his teacher, and the child lectures the teacher until he is confused and defeated. “Since you do not know the true nature of the Alpha, how can you teach anyone the Beta?” Jesus demands. The teacher gives up, saying, “I beg of you, brother Joseph, take him away. I cannot bear his stern gaze or make sense of a single word. This child is not of this world […] Maybe he was born before the world came into being.” Of course, all this talk of the Alpha, and Jesus being born before the world, clearly reflects the beginning of the Gospel of John.
Jesus laughs and says, “Let the barren bear fruit and let the blind in heart see. I have come from above to curse them and call them to the realm above, just as the one who sent me for your sake commanded.’ When the child stopped speaking, immediately all those who had fallen under his curse were healed. No one dared to anger him from that time on…” Jesus has made his point, and now he reverses the damage he did to the neighbors. Blindness, withering, and death vanish away. Of course, the story of the blind villagers reflects many of the gospel sayings, in which blind people represent those who will not see the gospel truth.
Over the following years, several more healing miracles follow. A child falls from a roof and dies, and Jesus calls him back to life. Jesus next heals a young man’s foot, which had been struck with an axe. Jesus also heals his brother James from a snake bite by breathing on the bite. Jesus touches an infant which had sickened and died, restoring it to life. Some of the villagers begin to want to worship him, saying, “Truly, this child is either God, or an angel of God, for his every word is an accomplished deed.” After yet another raising of the dead, the crowd says, “This child comes from Heaven, for he has saved many souls from death – his entire life he is able to save them.”
At age eight, Jesus sows a single grain of wheat, and harvests one hundred bushels. Then he feeds the wheat to all the poor people. This miracle makes literal some of the agricultural parables of the adult Jesus concerning the great harvest of people in the Kingdom of God. The reader begins to recognize the seeds of the adult Jesus, so to speak.
But Joseph thinks that Jesus still does not know how to read. Joseph tries another teacher, and the result is again a disaster. But the third teacher is wise enough to recognize that Jesus speaks in the Holy Spirit, teaching the Law with great grace and wisdom. This episode leads directly to the ending of the Infancy Gospel, which repeats the same story we find in the Gospel of Luke; at age twelve, Jesus goes to Jerusalem with his parents, gets separated from them, and is finally found teaching the elders in the Temple (Luke 2:46).
The Infancy Gospel was very popular in the Middle Ages, and has influenced much Christian artwork. Translated and copied many times, it comes down to us in a variety of texts with many variations in the details of the story. But of course it is not canonical, and today it is mostly dismissed. Modern readers probably have trouble getting past the image of young Jesus cursing other children to death over minor quarrels. But to be fair, everyone who is cursed or killed in the story is eventually healed or raised back to life. As Jesus grows from age five to age eight, his behavior changes; he is shown to heal many people. He begins to bless and not to curse, just as Joseph and the villagers hoped. The villagers go from fear of him to worship. Is the point here that even the Savior grows and matures? After all, as it says in Luke 2:40, the child grew.
The purpose of such literature is to satisfy the desire to know more about the central figure of a great religion. There are other stories in antiquity like this, in which a famous person is described as a child, and of course in these stories, the famous figure does not act like a child normally would. The point of such stories is precisely that the person was not a normal child at all. How could he have been, when he turned out to be such an amazing adult?
Did the author mean for people to take the Infancy Gospel as a set of true stories? It is hard to say. Beyond an overall sense of humor and exaggeration, much of the content of the Infancy Gospel is, after all, not greatly different from the content of the four accepted Gospels. There are healings and teachings, miracles and enactments of parables. The author apparently tried to make his child Jesus reflect the adult Jesus of the New Testament, in order to teach us something about Jesus. Whether it was “true” was beside the point. Perhaps the best thing we can do with such a story is to let it remain apocryphal while learning the lessons of Christianity which the author wanted to teach to his readers. Jesus was magnificent as an adult and as a child too, the writer teaches us. All his life, even in childhood, Jesus was able to save people. The writer’s Joseph sums it up for us, saying, “I am blessed that God has given me this child.”
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