Easter Post: Dating the Gospels
Here is my 2025 Easter Post!
33 When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land[g] until three in the afternoon. 34 At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”[h] 35 When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” 36 And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” 37 Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. 38 And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. 39 Now when the centurion who stood facing him saw that in this way he[ breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son! (Mark 15:33-39)
At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. The earth shook, and the rocks were split. 52 The tombs also were opened, and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised. 53 After his resurrection they came out of the tombs and entered the holy city and appeared to many. 54 Now when the centurion and those with him, who were keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son! (Matt 27:51-54)”
44 It was now about noon, and darkness came over the whole land[n] until three in the afternoon, 45 while the sun’s light failed, and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 46 Then Jesus, crying out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” Having said this, he breathed his last. 47 When the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly this man was innocent.” (Luke 23:44-47)
Instead, one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once blood and water came out. 35 (He who saw this has testified so that you also may believe. His testimony is true, and he knows that he tells the truth, so that you also may continue[h] to believe.) (John 19:34-35)
I have argued previously one element that seems to push Mark back into the second century is his use of imagery from Plutarch. One of the key points in Paul is he says despite the cross if Christ is not raised, your faith is in vain, and you are still in your sin. Mark seems to respond to this by downplaying the resurrection (there are no resurrection appearances in Mark), and the dead crucified Jesus converts the soldier at the cross by how he dies (“this was God’s son”). Mark/Matthew and Luke (“this man was innocent”) both give their own interpretation of this key event. This notion of a dead crucifixion victim converting onlookers probably comes from Plutarch’s life of Cleomenes. We read:
A few days after, those that watched the hanging body of Cleomenes, saw a large snake winding about his head, and covering his face, so that no bird of prey would fly at it. This made the king superstitiously afraid, and set the women upon several expiations, as if he had been some extraordinary being, and one beloved by the gods, that had been slain. And the Alexandrians made processions to the place, and gave Cleomenes the title of hero, and son of the gods …
ALTERNATE TRANSLATION:
And a few days afterwards those who were keeping watch upon the body of Cleomenes where it hung, saw a serpent of great size coiling itself about the head and hiding away the face so that no ravening bird of prey could light upon it. 2 In consequence of this, the king was seized with superstitious fear, and thus gave the women occasion for various rites of purification, since they felt that a man had been taken off who was of a superior nature and beloved of the gods. And the Alexandrians actually worshipped him, coming frequently to the spot and addressing Cleomenes as a hero and a child of the gods
Daniel Ogden relates this story to the cult of the anguineal Agathos Daimon in Alexandria (2013:286–291). He also cites this story in his discussion of the intimate relationship between serpents and the “heroic dead” in Greco-Roman traditions (2013:247–270). In Mark, the soldier recognizes Jesus as a great (figurative) soldier for Jesus following (God’s) orders even to his death despite great fear (e.g., Gethsemane; Cry of dereliction from the cross). In Matthew, the soldier is overcome by fear at the supernatural events at the death, and Luke’s soldier’s eyes are opened to the fact that they killed an innocent man – a literary pair of executed forgiving Stephen in Acts. John’s soldier is obviously an argument against a swoon death escaping the cross.
Price notes the Olivet discourse in Mark seems to suggest it wasn’t written earlier than 70 CE, although some allow that an apocalyptic Jesus could have predicted the destruction of the temple. Mark 13 has led some to conclude that the allusion is actually to the Bar Kokhba revolt, which would put Mark into the mid second century and perhaps being a product of Marcion and his school.
Mark can’t be later than 175-180 CE because Irenaeus is the first writer to show he knows the four gospels. Marcion was writing in the second century. Our earliest references to Jesus by the church fathers are sayings they seem to recite from memory, not narratives. Students of Bultmann thought the gospels seemed apocryphal in nature. Detering notes that in the Olivet discourse heralding the end Mark may have taken his apocalypse by revising some leaflets (as Eusebius notes) handed out before the second fall of Jerusalem from the Bar Kokhba revolt, a Jewish uprising against the Roman Empire that took place from 132–135 CE., which Matthew also had and so revised Mark thinking the leaflets more original. They said there would be famines, pestilences, nations would go to war, earthquakes, etc. Mark and Matthew would then be around 155 CE.
It’s possible that the socio-political tensions reflected in the Matthew’s Gospel could resonate with the circumstances leading to the revolt. Matthew’s emphasis on Jesus as the fulfillment of Jewish prophecy can be seen in light of the messianic fervor surrounding Bar Kokhba. The failure of the Bar Kokhba Revolt might have been used by early Christians, including by Matthew’s Gospel, to argue against Jewish messianic claims and reinforce their belief in Jesus as the true Messiah. The Gospel of Matthew contains themes of persecution (like in the Beatitudes, Matthew 5:10-12), which could resonate with the experiences of Jews and Christians during and after the Bar Kokhba Revolt. The revolt led to severe repercussions for Jews, including Christians, in Judea. The failure of the Bar Kokhba Revolt might have been seen by some Christians as divine judgment or as a sign pointing to Christian interpretations of eschatology and messianic prophecy, themes prevalent in Matthew.
Luke 21 and Mark 13 are not identical but represent the same Olivet Discourse, adapted for different audiences. Luke 21 is more historically grounded, with clearer references to Jerusalem’s fall and Gentile inclusion, while Mark 13 is more compact and apocalyptic. This might suggest Luke refers to the 70CE Temple crisis, while Mark refers to the later Bar Kokhba revolt.
Matthew seems no earlier than around the turn of the second century because he bases Jesus’s nativity on Josephus’ account of the nativity of Moses. Similarly, Luke bases his nativity on the account in Pseudo-Philo. However, critical scholarship suggests Luke’s first two chapters were later additions and he originally had no nativity story. Ehrman comments
There are numerous other points that can be made about Luke’s genealogy, but I want to focus on just one issue, which I raise initially as a question that you may have had as well. Why is the genealogy in chapter 3 instead of ch 1? You would think a genealogy would be given at the beginning of a person’s life, since that’s where it seems most relevant. But this one is given, oddly, after Jesus baptism as an adult. Huh?
I think there is an economical solution to the problem, but it may be one that has not occurred to you (I’m guessing). Scholars have adduced very good reasons for thinking that Luke was originally written without what are now the first two chapters, that the birth narratives of chapters 1 and 2 were added only as part of a second edition of the Gospel. Here are some of the reasons that have been given, that taken as a group seem to me to be pretty convincing:
(1) It is widely conceded that the solemn dating of the appearance of John the Baptist in 3:1-2 reads like the beginning, not the continuation of the narrative: “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Tiberius Casear, Pontius Pilate being governor of Judea, and Herod being tetrarch of Galilee… the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness….” So that is probably (possibly) where the Gospel originally began.
(2) Most of the central themes of chs. 1-2 – including the familial ties of John the Baptist and Jesus, Jesus’ virginal conception, and his birth in Bethlehem – are completely absent from the rest of the narrative, even though there were plenty of opportunities to mention them, had they already been narrated;
(3) The book of Acts summarizes the preceding narrative as involving what Jesus “began to do and teach” (Acts 1:1), saying nothing of his birth; so too in Peter’s later summary of the Gospel, “beginning from Galilee after the baptism that John preached” (10:37).
(4) And, of relevance to the present discussion, the genealogy of Jesus does indeed make little sense in chapter 3, after his baptism, given the fact that he and his birth are already mentioned in chapter 2, and that would be the appropriate place to indicate his lineage. But if the Gospel began in chapter 3 and the first thing that happened to Jesus was the declaration that he was the “Son” of God (in 3:23), then his lineage back to God through Adam makes sense where it is.
That is to say, if the Gospel began – like Mark’s – with the appearance of John the Baptist and the baptism of Jesus, where God tells him he is his Son, then it makes sense that the next passage would describe the genealogy of Jesus, that traces his lineage back to Adam, the son of God.
There are good reasons for thinking that the Gospel originally was published – in a kind of “first edition” – without what are now the first two chapters, so that the very beginning was what is now 3:1 (this is many centuries, of course, before anyone started using chapters and verses.) If that’s the case, Luke was originally a Gospel like Mark’s that did not have a birth and infancy narratives. These were added later, in a second edition (either by the same author or by someone else).
If that’s the case then the Gospel began with John the Baptist and his baptism of Jesus, followed by the genealogy which makes better sense here, at the beginning, than it does in the third chapter once the first two are added.
But is there any hard evidence that a first edition began without the first two chapters? One of the reasons it is so hard to say is because we simply don’t have much hard evidence. Our two earliest manuscripts of Luke, P75 and P45, are fragmentary, lacking portions of Luke, including the first two chapters. We can’t say whether they originally had them or not. Our first manuscript with portions of the opening chapters is the third-century P4. But our earliest patristic witness is over a century earlier. As it turns out, the witness is the heresiarch Marcion, and as is well known he didn’t have the first two chapters!
As early as Irenaeus’s Adversus Haereses (1. 27. 2) Marcion was accused of excising the first two chapters of his Gospel because they did not coincide with his view that Jesus appeared from heaven in the form of an adult man in the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar – that is that he was not actually born into the world. But who is to say that Irenaeus, Tertullian, and their successors were right, that these are chapters that Marcion excised from his account? It is at least possible, has occasionally been recognized, that the version of Luke in circulation in Marcion’s home church in Sinope, on the coast of the Black Sea, didn’t have these chapters, and that his view that Jesus simply appeared on the scene as an adult was surmised from the text as it was available to him.
Marcion interpreted his Gospel in such a way as to suggest that Jesus was a divine being but not a human being (hence he did not have a birth narrative). But there were other Christians at his time – and earlier – who insisted just the opposite, that Jesus was a human being but not a divine being. These Christians are often called “adoptionists” because they thought that Jesus was not by nature the Son of God, but that he was a human who was adopted by God to be his son.
I used to think that an adoptionistic Christology was more or less second-rate: Jesus only was adopted, he wasn’t the “real thing.” But a recent book that I’ve read by Michael Peppard, and that I’ve mentioned on this blog, The Son of God in the Roman World, has made me rethink the issue. Peppard points out that in the Roman world, adopted sons frequently had a higher status than natural sons; if an emperor had sons, but adopted someone else to be his heir, it was the adopted son who would become the next emperor, not the natural sons. The adopted son was seen as more powerful and influential, as indeed he was. So for Jesus to be adopted to be the son of God would be a big deal.
I mention this because without the first two chapters, in particular, Luke can be read as having an adoptionist Christology. In part, that hinges on how you understand the voice that comes from heaven to him at his baptism (the first think that happens to him in this Gospel). In most manuscripts the voice says: “You are my beloved son in whom I am well-pleased” (an allusion to Isa. 42:1, probably). But in a couple of manuscript witnesses the voice says something completely different: “You are my son, today I have begotten you” (a quotation of Psalm 2:7).
I have a lengthy discussion of this passage in my book Orthodox Corruption of Scripture, where I argue (at some length) that this latter quotation of Ps. 2:7 is what the text originally said, and that it was changed by scribes who did not like its adoptionistic overtones. If that’s right, and if that was the beginning episode of this Gospel, then it is indeed easy to see how an adoptionist would have read it in line with his or her particular theological views.
I’m not saying that the first edition of Luke was adoptionist. I’m simply saying that it would have been particularly amenable to an adoptionistic reading. Once that is said, though, one does need to wonder: was Luke himself an adoptionist?
It seems problematic to think that Luke was copying Matthew, since why would he omit a miraculous birth? Yet, there seems to be some copying going on because while Luke and Matthew’s genealogies seem too different to come from Q, their opposite nature suggests one was reversing the other.
Some like Livesey have tried to date Luke to Marcion’s school, thinking Marcion created the letters attributed to Paul and an early version of what would later be expanded into the full gospel of Luke. But as some have pointed out, Luke (and Mark) seems to masterfully imitate Greek poetry. Dennis MacDonald argues Acts is a rival to the Aeneid by Vergil. If Marcion’s priority is right someone had to come along and expand Luke and write Acts both of which have all these Homeric imitations in it. Marcion’s gospel issues from around 140-170 CE. Around that time, nobody is concerned about rivalry with the Aeneid. People were interested in the Aeneid under Vespasian and Trajan. Marcion’s gospel also didn’t include the first two chapters of the gospel of Luke. But the infancy narrative also imitates the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite from Greek poetry – and there are other imitations throughout Luke. Marcion’s abridged gospel seems to have cut out most of the Greek poetry allusions but still inadvertently preserve stories that indirectly imitate Homer. Luke’s Jesus and converted soldier at the cross are literary pairs with forgiving Stephen and converted Paul in Acts, and the figure of Paul seems a literary creation of the one predicted in the Old Testament who would bring the message of God to the pagans at the end of the age. Dennis MacDonald seems to have a point that Luke-Acts can reliably be dated to the turn of the second century.
To maintain Marcion priority, you have to say canonical Luke saw Marcion’s gospel and decided to do full blown Homeric imitation, since otherwise it seems Marcion didn’t like these Homeric imitations and decided to truncate or remove them entirely in order to promote the project he was working on. Marcion seems to, as Tertullian thought, abbreviated Luke for theological reasons.
Regarding the letters attributed to Pauk, Livesey notes it is in the wake of the Bar Kokhba revolt that the issues Paul addresses and the takes he has on them make the most sense. Her thesis is the letters are not our earliest written sources, but post revolt forged letters like the letters of Plato:
“The Bar Kokhba revolt (132–135 CE) had tremendous social and political consequences for Jews and Romans…During this period, writer-intellectuals immigrated to Rome, established schools, and produced various religious writings, some of which directly reflected on the consequences of the recent Jewish revolt. Marcion’s Evangelion, considered by some as the first gospel, stems from this social-political context. At this same time, political and religious discourse attests to the reassessment of the Jewish rite of circumcision. The devaluation and non-necessity of circumcision for gentiles found within Pauline letters parallels discussions in writings of the post-Bar Kokhba period. Marcion is known in sources for having a singular interest in the Apostle Paul. He is also credited with the earliest known collection of ten Pauline letters (the Apostolikon). These combined factors contribute to the sense in which Marcion’s second-century Roman school is the likely location of the origination of Pauline letters.”
“Van Manen had thought the Pauline letters were the product of a Pauline school following the 70CE revolt, but Livesey argues Paul’s letters with such themes as questionable necessity of Jewish law and practices reflect the later Bar Kokhba revolt period. There is no evidence of a school focusing on Marcion prior to the last revolt, and “Christian” teachers and schools emerge in Rome around the mid-second century CE, after the Bar Kokhba revolt, and as a consequence of it (200).” A climate of animosity to the Jewish scriptures and circumcision flourished after 100 CE: “Comparably dismissive and/or derogatory assessments of circumcision and Jewish law do not surface in texts dated prior to the end of the first century. Discussions of the rite of circumcision dated at or after the Bar Kokhba revolt parallel those found in Pauline letters. (202-203).”
Galatians vehemently argues against a group who wants to adopt Jewish Law, especially circumcision:
“According to the arguments in Galatians, justification/righteousness comes from faith/trust (ἐκ πίστεως), construed as hierarchically superior and positively, and not from works of law (ἐξ ἔργων νóμου; Gal 2:15-16), assessed consistently negatively. The assessment of Jewish law found in Galatians finds no parallels in primary sources dated up through Josephus. (100 CE)” Circumcision is overwhelmingly seen as favorable in the Hebrew Bible and central to the covenant between man and God. Things change significantly in Christian writings post Bar Kokhba where circumcision is debased such as with Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho: “Among these writings, Justin’s assessment is the most incendiary. According to him, circumcision is a sign (σημεῖον) of sufferingand alienation, whose purpose was to separate Israelites from other nations.. The reference to the land becoming desolate and cities ruined by fire unproblematically pertains to the aftermath of the Bar Kokhba revolt. Justin is clearly aware of the revolt, as he alludes to it here and elsewhere. Moreover, according to Justin, Jews suffer justly. It was “predicated by Scripture” and took place “by divine providence…. In Barnabas and the Dialogue a metaphorical circumcision of the heart is assessed as superior to a literal circumcision of the flesh (219) ” The authors of Paul argues against circumcision and devalues Abraham’s circumcision, indicating circumcision to be a form of slavery… “The devaluation of circumcision found in the later writings resonates in a Bar-Kokhba context, in which Jews sorely suffered the loss of their lives, their temple, and their territory; when many were sold into captivity; and, importantly, when Roman legislation prohibited the practice of circumcision. (223).” Having later writers put this on Paul’s lips echoes Mark putting the destruction of the temple on Jesus’ lips.
Livesey argues it seems during the Antonine period circumcision would be a liability. Christian schools emerged in Rome post revolt and Paul’s letters and the gospels likely had their origination there. The Christian schools were understood as philosophical schools. Justin’s work employs the strategy of friendly exchange noted earlier. Livesey thinks Paul’s letters come from the school of Marcion. The Bar Kokhba revolt played a significant role in Marcion’s relocation to Rome. Marcion published a gospel similar to Luke and 10 letters of Paul as our first New Testament. “Marcion’s Evangelion, while very similar to the Gospel of Luke, lacks the latter’s birth narrative and begins only at canonical Luke 3:1, “In the fifteenth year of Tiberius Caesar, when Pilate was governing Judaea. (243)” Luke is generally seen as the basis for Marcion’s gospel. But Livesey sats there is no evidence of earlier gospels and so Vinzent points to post revolt Rome: “oldest firm witnesses for the first Christian writings we can attain surface during the time after that war [Bar Kokhba]– Marcion’s collection of Paul’s letters, his Gospel, and with it those gospels ‘that have been ascribed to Apostles and disciples of Apostles,’ hence Matthew and John, Mark and Luke.”(245). Livesey thinks Marcion did not receive earlier gospels but created the first one. There is no evidence for a Pauline Collection prior to Marcion’s in 144, “If, as argued, Marcion created a gospel, anew literary genre, he– with the help of those in his school– could certainly have crafted and overseen the composition of mock letters in the name of the Apostle Paul, deploying a known and popular literary genre (248).”
As I said, I don’t think Livesey is right about Marcion’s Luke because Dennis MacDonald places Luke-Acts at the end of the first century (see Dennis MacDonald “Synopses of Epic, Tragedy, and the Gospels” Vol 2 359-466, 2022). But the Pauline epistles do seem to reflect a late date especially with the take on circumcision. If Matthew is copying Luke then he can comfortably be placed post second Jewish revolt, as the evidence I discussed earlier suggests. But then dating Mark becomes a problem because of recent scholarship suggesting Mark used the Pauline letters. It seems a lot to take in, but what this suggests regarding dates is Luke-Acts around the turn of the second century, then the pseudonymous Pauline epistles, Mark, Matthew, and John post second Jewish Revolt. Relatedly, here is one scholar’s reconstruction of Matthew copying Luke:
So, the task here is to imagine a kind of Lukan priority which places Luke following Dennis MacDonald around the turn of the second century while still placing Mark and Matthew post 2nd Jewish revolt. To do this you need to see a difference of referent between the Olivet discourse in Mark 13 and Luke 21. Some scholars do argue for the priority of Marcion’s Luke-like gospel. Klinghardt is a prominent modern proponent of Marcionite priority. In his 2006 article and later in his 2015 book (published in German and subsequently in English), he argues that Marcion’s Evangelion was the earliest gospel, predating the canonical Luke and influencing the other synoptic gospels. He initially suggested in 2008 that Marcion’s gospel was based on a “Proto-Luke” but later shifted to full Marcionite priority, proposing that the Evangelion was the source for Luke, Matthew, and Mark. In his 2014 book, Marcion and the Dating of the Synoptic Gospels, Vinzent argues that Marcion wrote the first gospel as a draft for his classroom, which was not initially meant for publication. He claims this text was plagiarized by the authors of the canonical gospels, prompting Marcion to publish his Evangelion with the Antitheses and Pauline epistles as a response.
All the same, Early Christian writers like Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Epiphanius consistently claim Marcion redacted Luke, removing passages (e.g., nativity stories, Jewish elements) to fit his ditheistic theology. Sebastian Moll argues that all surviving sources support this view, placing the burden of proof on Marcionite priority advocates. The content of the Pauline epistles and certain features such as the Olivet discourse seems to suggest the writings were post The Second Jewish Revolt, also known as the Bar Kokhba Revolt, which took place from 132 to 136 CE. This is too late for Dennis MacDonald dating Acts, but MacDonald may just be arbitrarily putting it in a likelihood window, since mimesis with Vergil could have happened much later. So, we have Mark, Matthew, Luke-Acts, John, and the Pseudonymous Pauline epistles post 136CE, and we can follow the traditional order since that seems to be the easiest fit.
CONCLUDING POST NEXT TIME:
Easter Post 2/2: Scribal Galilee by Sarah Rollens
Previously:
(4) The Late Date of the Gospels: Supplement
(Conclusion) The Late Dates of the Gospels
(2/2) The Late Date of the Gospels