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THE QUEST FOR THE HISTORICAL PAUL (Part 2: Jesus, Paul, and Plutarch)

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(Introduction)

We’ve been thinking about how an early date of Mark or Paul’s writings would be useful for historical mining reasons but may just be wishful thinking.  For example, the gospel of Mark is generally dated no earlier than 70 CE because it speaks of the destruction of the temple.   But some argue the gospel is much later than 70 CE, citing such evidence as Mark 13 not only indicative of the 70 CE war, but also later Bar Kokhba, for example given Mark 13’s reception history by Matthew.  Similarly, Paul’s letters have markers that put them no earlier than certain dates, but this doesn’t tell us how late they are.

Several Old Testament books contain historical markers suggesting specific time periods but are argued by scholars to have been written or finalized much later.  Daniel is set during the Babylonian exile (6th century BCE), referencing events like Nebuchadnezzar’s reign and the fall of Babylon (Daniel 1–5).  Most scholars date its final composition to around 167–164 BCE during the Maccabean period. The detailed prophecies in Daniel 11 closely align with events of the Seleucid ruler Antiochus IV Epiphanes, suggesting a 2nd-century BCE context. Linguistic evidence, such as late Hebrew and Aramaic, and Greek loanwords in the text, supports a Hellenistic-era composition. The “prophecies” about earlier empires (Babylon, Persia) are accurate, while those about later events (post-Antiochus) are vague or incorrect, indicating they were written after the earlier events but before the later ones.

Chapters 1–39 of the book of Isaiah reference events from the 8th century BCE, like the Assyrian invasions and King Hezekiah’s reign (e.g., Isaiah 7:1–17, 36–37).  Scholars often divide Isaiah into at least two or three parts. Deutero-Isaiah (chapters 40–55) mentions Cyrus of Persia (Isaiah 44:28, 45:1), pointing to the 6th century BCE, after the Babylonian exile began. Trito-Isaiah (chapters 56–66) reflects post-exilic concerns, likely from the 5th century BCE or later. The shift in tone, style, and historical context (from Assyrian to Babylonian/Persian settings) suggests later authors or editors added to an earlier core.

Ezekiel is set during the Babylonian exile, with precise dates like 593–571 BCE (Ezekiel 1:2, 40:1), tied to events such as Jerusalem’s fall in 587 BCE.  While some parts may originate from the 6th century BCE, certain sections, like the detailed temple vision (Ezekiel 40–48), show signs of later editing, possibly from the 5th or 4th century BCE. The highly idealized temple and legal codes resemble post-exilic priestly concerns, and some linguistic features align with later Hebrew. Scholars debate whether these reflect a single author or later redaction.

The Torah describes events from the patriarchal period (e.g., Abraham, ~2000 BCE?) to the Exodus and wilderness wanderings (13th–12th century BCE, per traditional dating).  The Documentary Hypothesis and related theories suggest the Torah was compiled from multiple sources (J, E, D, P) between the 10th and 5th centuries BCE, with final redaction likely during or after the Babylonian exile (6th–5th century BCE). Anachronisms, like references to Philistines (Genesis 21:32) before their arrival in Canaan (~1200 BCE), or the mention of “Ur of the Chaldeans” (Genesis 11:28), a term used after the 7th century BCE, point to later composition. The priestly material (e.g., Leviticus) reflects post-exilic concerns, suggesting editing as late as the 5th century BCE.

The Book of Esther is set in the Persian court of King Ahasuerus (Xerxes I, 5th century BCE), with references to Persian customs and administration (Esther 1:1–3).  Scholars often date Esther to the 4th or 3rd century BCE, during the late Persian or early Hellenistic period. The exaggerated style, lack of historical corroboration for the story, and Greek literary influences (e.g., in the Additions to Esther in the Septuagint) suggest a later composition. The focus on Jewish identity in a diaspora setting aligns with post-exilic concerns.

In such texts there are terms, place names, or cultural references that didn’t exist at the time of the supposed setting (e.g., “Chaldeans” in Genesis, Greek loanwords in Daniel).  Prophecies or descriptions are precise for events up to the author’s time but become vague or inaccurate afterward, as seen in Daniel.  Shifts in language (e.g., late Hebrew or Aramaic) or style often indicate later composition or redaction.  Themes reflecting later historical contexts, like post-exilic temple restoration or diaspora identity, suggest later editing.

(The Unnecessary Jesus and Paul)

Previously, I argued against Livesey’s idea that Marcion penned the first letters attributed to Paul and the first Gospel.  1 piece of evidence is Marcion mistakenly puts Galatians before 1 Corinthians in his collection of letters.  That said, there do seem to be issues connecting Marcion to the letters, like him coming from an area adjacent to Galatia and all the other cities of the letters are port cities, Marcion being known for his boat and travels.  In this way, we might look for authors to individuals who influenced Marcion or were from his school.

Cerdo is most famous for his influence on Marcion, whom he reportedly met in Rome. Irenaeus states that Marcion was a disciple of Cerdo, adopting and expanding his dualistic theology. Marcion’s rejection of parts of the Old Testament and his creation of a canon (consisting of a modified Gospel of Luke and ten Pauline epistles) could have built on Cerdo’s ideas.  Similarly, Apelles was a 2nd-century Christian teacher and disciple of Marcion who later somewhat broke with Marcion, which might explain Marcion preferring Galatians over 1 Corinthians in the ordering of the collection if Apelles authored both.  There are any number of a million scenarios to explain where and when Marcion’s Gospel and 10 letter collection came from, so this must be disputed through other lenses. 

On the other hand, one might object Marcion could have penned the 7 “genuine” letters and decided to place them out of order with Galatians before I Corinthians because for circulation purposes he wanted to emphasize the importance of the theology in Galatians as it was his favorite and so a good or crucial introduction.  Modern churches do the same thing when they encourage new converts to read the Gospel of John first as a foundational lens through which to interpret the rest of the New Testament (e.g., Mark “says” this but it must be seen through the lens of the beloved disciple who knew what was really meant).   

Livesey’s overarching thesis which we will be exploring is Paul was a literary character created in Acts, and the Pauline letters were developed out of this base.  My thought is that if this is right, the converted Paul in Acts seems to be a literary pair with the converted soldier at the cross in Luke, as the forgiving, dying Jesus in Luke is a literary pair with the forgiving dying Stephen in Acts.  Ehrman notes the forgiving dying Jesus was edited out by later Christian scribes who couldn’t see God forgiving the Jews, but was probably there originally because it fits the theology of Luke well and is a perfect literary pair/fit/parallel  with the forgiving Stephen in Luke’s second volume Acts. 

If Paul personified what a prophesied figure might be like who would bring God’s message to the pagans at the end of the age, an idealized figure as argued in the previous article, who was the messiah Jesus?  I will give some preliminary remarks here and will think of Jesus in the light of his namesake Joshua and what happened to messianic claimants around that time who wanted to emulate Joshua. 

In Jewish history, certain periods saw heightened messianic expectations, often tied to political crises.  During the Babylonian Exile (6th century BCE), some hoped for a Davidic king to restore Israel, based on prophecies like Jeremiah 23. No such figure emerged, leading to reinterpreted expectations (e.g., a future hope rather than immediate fulfillment).  In the 2nd century BCE, the Maccabean revolt sparked messianic fervor, but the Hasmonean rulers were not universally accepted as messianic figures.  In the 1st century CE, figures like Jesus of Nazareth were seen by some as fulfilling messianic prophecies, but most Jews rejected this, as he did not restore Israel’s political sovereignty or fulfill expectations of a triumphant king. 

A question then arises as to why Jesus was considered the Messiah, since him being raised from the dead no more makes him a Messiah than it makes him a car mechanic in Jewish theology?  Jesus being crucified and raised didn’t make him a messiah just as John the Baptist being humiliatingly killed didn’t make him a messiah or any more than Lazarus being raised from the dead made him a messiah.  Figures like Bar Kokhba (2nd century CE) were hailed as potential messiahs during the revolt against Rome (132-135 CE) but failed to deliver lasting redemption, leading to widespread disappointment.  Scholars like John J. Collins (in The Scepter and the Star) argue that messianic expectations evolved over time, often in response to historical crises. Prophecies were not necessarily “failed” but were fluid, allowing for reinterpretation as circumstances changed. For instance, Daniel’s visions may have referred to Antiochus IV’s defeat, but when that didn’t fully materialize, they were applied to a future eschatological figure.

In order to understand Jesus, some scholars feel Daniel’s 70 weeks prophecy in Daniel 9:24-27 points to Jesus, though this is contested by some historical-critical scholars.  The text is cryptic, with debated terms and timelines, leading to varied interpretations.  Some scholars interpret the seventy weeks as a timeline pointing to Jesus as the Messiah. The “weeks” are often understood as 490 years (70 x 7 years).   The starting point is typically tied to a decree to rebuild Jerusalem, often dated to Artaxerxes I’s decree in 457 BCE (Ezra 7) or 445 BCE (Nehemiah 2).  Using 457 BCE, 483 years (7 + 62 weeks) brings the timeline to roughly 27-33 CE, aligning with Jesus’ ministry, baptism, or crucifixion.  The final “week” (7 years) is sometimes seen as encompassing Jesus’ ministry (3.5 years) and the early spread of Christianity, or as a future eschatological period in dispensationalist views.

Christians identify the “anointed one” (messiah) who is “cut off” with Jesus, pointing to his crucifixion (traditionally circa 30-33 CE) as the moment of being “cut off” to deal with sins, fulfilling the prophecy’s purpose of “dealing with iniquity” and “bringing everlasting righteousness.”  The “covenant” in verse 27 is often interpreted as the new covenant established through Jesus’ death and resurrection.  The prophecy’s mention of the city and sanctuary’s destruction aligns with the Roman destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in 70 CE, seen as occurring after Jesus’ ministry.  Early Christian writers (e.g., Tertullian, Origen) and modern scholars (e.g., Gleason Archer, Robert Newman) argue this timeline fits Jesus’ life, death, and the establishment of the new covenant.  Dispensationalist theologians (e.g., John Walvoord) often place a gap between the 69th and 70th weeks, with the final week awaiting future fulfillment, but still see Jesus as the anointed one.

If, as discussed in the previous article, Mark was written post temple destruction in 70 CE or even post Bar Kokhba as Matthew’s reception history of Mark’s Olivet discourse suggests, and if  Paul’s letters are likewise 2^nd century, then Jesus may be a figure retrojected into the early first century to say no, the Messiah didn’t come, but this is what the world tragically would have done to God’s most beloved messenger (agapetos angelos) if he had come and died in the 30’s as predicted in Daniel.  Hearers/readers would experience the story as transformative (somewhat analogous to Aristotelian catharsis) all the same.  The key is to see yourself in the world that turned against Jesus.

Around the time of Jesus when messianic fever would have been fueled by Daniel and the hopes of a new and greater Joshua (roughly 1st century BCE to 1st century CE), several individuals in Judea and surrounding regions were identified as messianic claimants or leaders of movements with messianic undertones, often tied to Jewish expectations of a deliverer from Roman oppression. Many of these figures were killed, typically by Roman authorities or in conflicts stemming from their rebellions. The Jewish historian Josephus is the primary source for most of these figures, though he does not always explicitly label them as “messiahs.” Scholars often infer messianic claims based on their actions, such as leading revolts, claiming kingship, or being associated with apocalyptic expectations.

Judas of Galilee (died c. 6 CE):Context: Led a revolt against the Roman census under Quirinius, founding the Zealot movement or a related “fourth philosophy” advocating resistance to Roman rule (Josephus, Jewish Antiquities 18.23). His actions suggest messianic aspirations, as national independence was a key messianic expectation.  Likely he was killed by Romans during or after the revolt, though Josephus does not provide specific details of his death. His sons, Jacob and Simon, were later crucified around 47 CE, indicating the family’s ongoing resistance (Jewish Antiquities 20.102).Heisnot explicitly called a messiah by Josephus, but Acts 5:37 references him in a context implying significant leadership, and his push for national independence aligns with messianic ideals.

Simon of Perea was a former slave of Herod the Great, Simon led a rebellion after Herod’s death, burning the royal palace in Jericho and proclaiming himself king by wearing a diadem, a symbol of royal or messianic authority (Josephus, Jewish War 2.57–59, Antiquities 17.273–274).  He was executed by Roman forces between 4 BCE and 15 CE, likely shortly after his rebellion began.  His self-proclamation as king and the diadem suggest messianic aspirations, as kingship was tied to messianic expectations. He is also linked to Gabriel’s Revelation, a 1st-century BCE stone tablet with messianic prophecies.

Athronges was a shepherd who led a rebellion against Herod Archelaus and the Romans around 4–2 BCE, alongside his four brothers. He was crowned with a diadem and led armed supporters, suggesting messianic or royal claims (Josephus, Jewish War 2.60–65, Antiquities 17.278–284).  The rebellion was suppressed, and while Josephus does not explicitly state Athronges’ death, it is likely he was killed by Roman forces, as his movement collapsed.  His assumption of kingship and leadership of a revolt align with messianic expectations of a liberator.

Theudas claimed to be a prophet and led a group of followers to the Jordan River, promising to part the waters like Moses, an act implying messianic or prophetic leadership (Josephus, Antiquities 20.97–98; Acts 5:36). His movement attracted about 400 followers.  He was captured and beheaded by Roman forces under governor Cuspius Fadus.  While not explicitly called a messiah, his claim to prophetic powers and leadership in a liberation movement suggest messianic undertones, as such acts were associated with messianic figures like the “prophet like Moses” (Deuteronomy 18:15).

The Egyptian Prophet (died c. 56–60 CE was an unnamed figure led a large group (Josephus claims 30,000, likely exaggerated) from the wilderness to the Mount of Olives, promising to overthrow Roman rule and enter Jerusalem (Josephus, Jewish War 2.261–263, Antiquities 20.169–171; Acts 21:38). His actions recall messianic expectations of a new conquest akin to Joshua’s.  The Roman governor Felix dispersed the group, and while Josephus does not confirm the leader’s death, many followers were killed, and the leader likely perished or was executed.  His promise to liberate Jerusalem and lead a large following suggests messianic pretensions, as such actions were tied to expectations of divine intervention.

Menahem ben Judah was a leader in the First Jewish-Roman War, possibly a son or grandson of Judas of Galilee. He entered Jerusalem dressed as a king, seized the Antonia Fortress, and killed the high priest Ananias (Josephus, Jewish War 2.433–448). His actions suggest messianic claims tied to Zealot ideology.  He was killed by rival Jewish factions (likely Eleazar’s group) in Jerusalem, not by Romans, as he attempted to control the temple.  His regal entry and leadership in the revolt, combined with Acts 5:36–37 referencing messianic figures like Judas, suggest he was seen as a messiah by some.

Simon bar Giora was a key leader in the First Jewish-Roman War (66–70 CE), Simon rose to prominence as a military leader, gaining widespread support and being acclaimed as a messianic savior by some (Josephus, Jewish War 4.503–510, 7.26–36). His physical strength and strategic victories against Romans fueled his reputation.  He was captured after the fall of Jerusalem in 70 CE, taken to Rome, and executed during a triumphal procession.  Josephus notes he was revered as a savior, and his leadership during the war aligns with messianic expectations of a warrior-king.

In the 1st century, Jewish messianic expectations varied, often centering on a figure who would defeat Rome, restore Israel, or usher in the “world to come” (Olam HaBa). Many claimants were rebels or prophets responding to Roman oppression, and their deaths often marked the failure of their movements, unlike Jesus’ case, where his followers’ belief in his resurrection sustained the movement.

Josephus avoids directly calling most of these figures “messiahs,” possibly to downplay their significance or avoid Roman censorship. Scholars infer messianic status from actions like claiming kingship, wearing a diadem, or leading apocalyptic movements.  The later Claimant Simon bar Kokhba (died 135 CE) led a major revolt and was explicitly hailed as a messiah by Rabbi Akiva.  He was killed during the Roman siege of Betar.  Some scholars, like Israel Knohl and Michael O. Wise, argue for earlier messianic figures (e.g., a Judah or Menahem in the Dead Sea Scrolls, c. 72 BCE or 4 BCE), but these are speculative and not widely accepted.

Jesus was thus emblematic of these failed messianic claimants, with the exception that he was considered God’s most beloved agapetos and whose death was the responsibility of a corrupt Jewish elite and a Roman ruler who thought him a nuisance who it would just be easier to kill than let go.  Jesus (died c. 30–33 CE) was executed by crucifixion for sedition (calling himself King of the Jews though he never did this).  His movement’s survival, unlike others, hinged on claims of resurrection, which distinguished it from other failed messianic movements.

Given the transformative power of the story, it’s thereby not necessary for the Christian argument of God’s plan of a Kingdom of God on earth that Jesus lived historically any more than there needed to literally be a prisoner in Plato’s literal cave or a literal impaled just man in the Republic for the argument in Plato’s Republic to hold.  And, if the letters are late as Livesey thinks, a lot of the evidence for the historicity of Jesus evaporates like the James the brother of the Lord passage and the seed of David passage.

Socrates’ last words to Crito regarding his poison were: “let us offer a rooster to Asclepius for the pharmakon (poison/cure).” The meaning seems to be that just/noble Socrates, in being killed by society for silly reasons, un-covered (truth: “a-letheia”) the hidden vileness of society and hence acted as a catalyst for social change. Socrates’ death lifted the fog from people’s eyes and let them see their inner hidden vileness. Thus, as a result of what Socrates’ death showed about the hidden vileness of society, we no longer kill people for doing what Socrates did with his life (gadfly). Analogously, the image of the just, impaled man is also a key image for Plato in book two of the most well-known book in the ancient world, the Republic. The soon-to-be future Pope Ratzinger comments in his Introduction to Christianity:

The Cross is revelation. It reveals not any particular thing, but God and man. It reveals who God is and in what way man is. There is a curious presentiment of this situation in Greek philosophy: Plato’s image of the crucified ‘just man.’ In Republic the great philosopher asks what is likely to be the position of a completely just man in this world. He comes to the conclusion that a man’s righteousness is only complete and guaranteed when he takes on the appearance of unrighteousness, for only then is it clear that he does not follow the opinion of men but pursues justice only for its own sake. So, according to Plato, the truly just man must be misunderstood and persecuted in this world; indeed Plato goes so far as to write: “They will say that our just man will be scourged, racked, fettered, will have his eyes burned out, and at last, after all manner of suffering, will be crucified.” This passage, written four hundred years before Christ, is always bound to move a Christian deeply. (Ratzinger, 1969, p. 292; cf. Plato, Republic, II.362a).

Socrates gives thanks for the poison for re-vealing the corruptness of society. This is all the more emphatic where tortured/executed Jesus is the uniquely chosen and favored Son of God, and so powerfully re-vealing (a-letheia) evil in order to bring about that people see through Satan’s wiles tempting/influencing them, and thus can repent and be fairly judged at the imminent end of the age.  This is the meaning of the impaled just man in book 2 of Plato’s Republic. Just as Socrates’ death dis-closed (“a-letheia”) the hidden corrupt nature of his society, infinitely more emphatic is this the case of Jesus as the specially chosen/beloved (agapetos) son and messenger (angelos) of God who continually demonstrates the power and wisdom of a paradigmatically holy man, but with the counterintuitive result that Jesus is hated by the crowd and the Jewish elite, convicted as a common criminal by a Roman who doesn’t even get a confession, sees Jesus as a nuisance, and executes him to placate the crowd, where Jesus suffers a horrific flogging and crucifixion, the most terrible of executions, and finally pleads to God as why he has abandoned him. But the cross wasn’t just a revelatory ethical indictment of the hidden vileness of humanity; it was also a religious indictment of the satanic nature of man, because God had chosen Jesus as messiah to reinstate the throne of David—Jesus, who had continuously proved that he was specially chosen and favored (agapetos) by God through the signs and wonders that he performed and his authoritative and novel understanding of scripture—and so humanity’s response to brutally torture and execute him as a criminal was basically a slap in the face of God. 

Jesus the man reveals what a failed messianic claimant could be if favored by God, which contrasts with Josephus who valorized the Jewish military heroes but portrayed them as impotent in the face of Roman might.  Recall the soldier at the cross in Mark snubs Ceasar as the Son of God and declares Jesus as the true one.

It makes sense post the tragedies 70 CE and even post Bar Kokhba to have writers imagine and create a sinless son of God back in the 30s who was unjustly brutalized and killed by the Jewish elite to explain the judgment of God’s wrath on Israel with the destruction of the temple and the later expulsion from Jerusalem, but also creatively using this as offering a way to salvation if the watchers/readers of the passion play underwent a change of mind or repentance (metanoia) by seeing themselves in the world that turned on Jesus.

And we do have examples in Antiquity about the unjust killing of a good man such as Jesus which resulted in divine wrath like the destruction of the temple in 70 CE or the loss of a homeland post Bar Kokhba.  Mara bar Serapion, in a letter to his son dated sometime after (however long) 70 CE, wrote (probably about Jesus):

What advantage did the Athenians gain from putting Socrates to death? Famine and plague came upon them as a judgment for their crime. What advantage did the men of Samos gain from burning Pythagoras? In a moment their land was covered with sand. What advantage did the Jews gain from executing their wise King? It was just after that their kingdom was abolished. God justly avenged these three wise men: the Athenians died of hunger; the Samians were overwhelmed by the sea; the Jews, ruined and driven from their land, live in complete dispersion. But Socrates did not die for good; he lived on in the teaching of Plato. Pythagoras did not die for good; he lived on in the statue of Hera. Nor did the wise king die for good; he lived on in the teaching which he had given.”

The letter contains historical inaccuracies, such as implying Pythagoras was killed by the Samians (he died in Italy) and conflating him with a sculptor named Pythagoras. Similarly, the timing of Socrates’ death and Athens’ misfortunes is muddled. These errors suggest Mara was more concerned with rhetorical effect than historical precision, possibly drawing on earlier Stoic lists of persecuted philosophers (e.g., Chrysippus)

The ancient Jews often treated national tragedies like the destruction of the temple in 70 CE and the loss of their home after Bar Kokhba as God’s judgment for their disobedience (e.g., the corrupt Jewish elite and the crafty trial of Jesus) rooted in their covenantal theology found in texts like Deuteronomy 28, which links blessings to obedience and curses to rebellion. Here are examples:

Assyrian Exile (722 BCE): The fall of the Northern Kingdom of Israel to Assyria was seen as punishment for idolatry and covenant violations. 2 Kings 17:7-23 states that the Israelites “sinned against the Lord their God” through idol worship and ignoring prophets, leading to their exile.

Babylonian Exile (586 BCE): The destruction of Jerusalem and the First Temple by Babylon was attributed to Judah’s persistent idolatry, injustice, and failure to heed prophets like Jeremiah. Jeremiah 25:8-12 and 2 Chronicles 36:15-21 frame the exile as God’s judgment for breaking the covenant.

Siege of Jerusalem (701 BCE): During King Hezekiah’s reign, Sennacherib’s Assyrian siege was viewed as a consequence of national sin, though divine intervention spared the city after repentance (2 Kings 18-19; Isaiah 37). Isaiah linked the threat to Judah’s moral failures.

Famine and Plagues in prophetic warnings: Prophets like Amos (Amos 4:6-11) and Joel (Joel 1:4-20) interpreted natural disasters like famines and locust plagues as divine calls to repentance, signaling judgment for social injustices and spiritual unfaithfulness.  Consider the earth going dark at noon at the crucifixion and the terror of the soldier at the cross in Matthew at the earthquake when Jesus dies.

These interpretations were shaped by the belief that God actively governed history, using tragedies to discipline and restore His people.  With the destruction of the temple in 70 CE and the loss of their homeland after Bar Kokhba, it was ‘as though’ God was punishing them for a horrific crime like torturing and killing God’s beloved innocent Son.

Parallels

We will see Paul with Detering and Price as a parallel character to the historical Simon Magus, just as Jesus seems to be a character imitating John the Baptist, with John as the new Elijah and Jesus as the new Elisha with a double portion of John’s power and his successor and superior.  Mark says “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ as it is written in the prophets.” Mark immediately interprets John the Baptist as a forerunner of the Messiah (a la Elijah in II Kings 1:8). Mark then clothes John similar to Elijah (Mark 1:6. II Kings 1:8.) He then says John ate locusts and wild honey, the food of the wilderness in which Elijah lived (and so on and so on).  Price notes in view of parallels elsewhere between John and Jesus on the one hand and Elijah and Elisha on the other, some (Miller, p. 48) also see in the Jordan baptism and the endowment with the spirit a repetition of 2 Kings 2, where, near the Jordan, Elijah bequeaths a double portion of his own miracle-working spirit to Elisha, who henceforth functions as his successor and superior.  Jesus says of John there are none greater, so Jesus being John’s successor and superior such as with the heavens opening up and the spirit descending on Jesus at the baptism shows only God’s beloved could succeed John.

John the Baptist is portrayed in the New Testament as suffering a humiliating death for insulting the elites, and likewise the Jewish elites turn on Jesus and Jesus attains an even more tortuous and humiliating death.  This fictive portrayal of John’s death parallels the fictive portrayal of Jesus’ death, just as the forgiving death of Jesus in Luke parallels the forgiving death of Stephen in Acts.  In contrast to the bible account, according to Josephus in his Antiquities of the Jews (18.116–119), John the Baptist was executed by Herod Antipas because of the significant influence John wielded over the people. Josephus states that John was a virtuous man who urged the Jews to practice righteousness and piety toward God, using baptism as a symbol of bodily purification for those already cleansed by just behavior. Because large crowds were drawn to John and “were greatly moved by his words,” Herod feared that John’s influence could spark a rebellion. To prevent potential unrest, Herod had John arrested, imprisoned at the fortress of Machaerus, and put to death. Josephus also notes that some Jews believed the subsequent destruction of Herod’s army by King Aretas IV was divine punishment for John’s execution, linking it to Herod’s divorce from Aretas’ daughter to marry Herodias.  In contrast, the Synoptic Gospels (Mark 6:17–29; Matthew 14:3–12; Luke 3:19–20) emphasize a different motive: John’s public criticism of Herod Antipas’ marriage to Herodias, his brother’s wife, which John deemed unlawful. In Mark’s account, this rebuke leads to John’s imprisonment, and his execution follows a dramatic episode where Herodias’ daughter (traditionally identified as Salome) dances at Herod’s birthday banquet and, at her mother’s urging, requests John’s head on a platter. Herod, reluctantly bound by his oath, complies.

Jesus’ death plays a double role.  On the one hand, to parallel the account of John Jesus is condemned by the Jewish elite who trick the Romans into killing him because they aren’t allowed to, and Jesus goes beyond the historical death of John in Josephus and so Pilate executes Jesus for proclaiming to be King of the Jews though Jesus never confesses to this.  John showed a way to remove sins as the end was near, and Jesus provided a greater way to deal with sins.  Mark thus winks at the reader that Jesus is an augmented re-iteration of John the Baptist:  In the Gospel of Mark, there is a passage where Jesus is identified by some as John the Baptist. In Mark 8:27-28, Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” They respond, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” This is very similar to the account in Matthew 16:13-14, where the same speculation about Jesus’ identity is reported.  Additionally, earlier in Mark 6:14-16, King Herod Antipas hears about Jesus’ miracles and says, “John the Baptist has been raised from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.” Others around Herod also speculate that Jesus might be Elijah or a prophet, but Herod specifically believes Jesus is John resurrected.  So, just as we have a literary pair of the deaths of Jesus and Stephen in Luke-Acts, we have a literary pair of the deaths of John and Jesus in Mark 

In Acts the link between Jesus as a successor and superior to John is strengthened.  Paul emphasizes that John’s baptism was preparatory and water-based, pointing to Jesus, while baptism in Jesus’ name fulfills John’s message, bringing the Holy Spirit and a new life in Christ. This is why Paul re-baptizes the Ephesian disciples in Jesus’ name to complete their initiation into the Christian faith.

Just as Jesus went beyond John in that not water baptism forgave sin, but Jesus’ death answered sin, Jesus’ ministry to the Jews was expanded by Paul to the pagans to fulfill the prophecy the God’s message would reach the nations, and then the end would come.  Whereas Mark has the central event of the passion/cross with a pagan empty tomb apotheosis narrative almost tacked on as an afterthought, Paul stresses the importance of the pharisaic end time resurrection of Jesus in dealing with sin: “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile, and you are still in your sins (1 Cor 15:17).”

 Jesus’ earthly ministry primarily focused on the “lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matthew 15:24), fulfilling the messianic promises to Israel (Romans 15:8). Paul’s calling as the “apostle to the Gentiles” (Romans 11:13, Galatians 2:8, Acts 9:15) extends Jesus’ ministry to include the nations, fulfilling prophecies like Isaiah 49:6 (“a light for the Gentiles”) and Genesis 12:3 (“all nations will be blessed”). In Acts, Paul’s missionary journeys (e.g., Acts 13-28) and his letters (e.g., Romans 1:5, “obedience of faith among all the nations”) emphasize this expansion, bringing the gospel to pagans who were previously outside the covenant.  Paul’s mission to the Gentiles expands Jesus’ Jewish-focused ministry to fulfill the prophetic inclusion of the nations.  Paul himself connects his ministry to Old Testament promises (e.g., Romans 15:9-12, citing Psalms, Isaiah, and Deuteronomy to show God’s plan for the Gentiles). This aligns with the eschatological expectation in Matthew 24:14, where the gospel’s global reach precedes the end.

If the Gospels, letters, and Acts are of a later date than normally assumed, it is possible a reader would have known the account of the death of John in the Gospels is fictive because Josephus was widely read and we looked at how the account in Josephus differed from the Gospels.  For instance, Price argues Matthew’s Jesus narrative imitates Josephus’ account of the nativity of Moses: 

On the whole Matthew seems to have borrowed the birth story of Jesus from Josephus’ retelling of the nativity of Moses. Whereas Exodus had Pharaoh institute the systematic murder of Hebrew infants simply to prevent a strong Hebrew fifth column in case of future invasion, Josephus makes the planned pogrom a weapon aimed right at Moses, who in Josephus becomes a promised messiah in his own right. Amram and Jochabed, expecting baby Moses, are alarmed. What should they do? Abort the pregnancy? God speaks in a dream to reassure them. “One of those sacred scribes, who are very sagacious in foretelling future events truly, told the king that about this time there would a child be borne to the Israelites, who, if he were reared, would bring the Egyptian dominion low, and would raise the Israelites; that he would excel all men in virtue, and obtain a glory that would be remembered through the ages. Which was so feared by the king that, according to this man’s opinion, he commanded that they should cast every male child into the river, and destroy it… A man, whose name was Amram, … was very uneasy at it, his wife being then with child, and he knew not what to do… Accordingly God had mercy on him, and was moved by his supplication. He stood by him in his sleep, and exhorted him not to despair of his future favours… ‘For that child, out of dread for whose nativity the Egyptians have doomed the Israelites’ children to destruction, shall be this child of thine… he shall deliver the Hebrew nation from the distress they are under from the Egyptians. His memory shall be famous whole the world lasts.’” (Antiquities, II, IX, 2-3),”

For another example with Josephus, consider Price with the Ascension in Luke:

The Ascension (24:49-53): Luke’s ascension narrative (the only one in the gospels) is based primarily upon the account of Elijah’s ascension in 2 Kings 2 (Brodie, p. 254-264), though he seems to have added elements of Josephus’ story of Moses’ ascension as well (“And as soon as they were come to the mountain called Abarim…, he was going to embrace Eleazar and Joshua, and was still discoursing with them, [when] a cloud stood over him on the sudden, and he disappeared in a certain valley” Antiquities V. 1. 48, Whiston trans.). In 2 Kings 2:9, Elijah and Elisha agree on the master’s bequest to his disciple: Elisha is to receive a double share of Elijah’s mighty spirit, i.e., power. Likewise, just before his own ascension, Jesus announces to his disciples his own bequest: “the promise of my father” (Luke 24:49). It will be a “clothing” with power, recalling Elijah’ miracle of parting the Jordan with his own rolled-up mantle (1 Kings 2:12). Both Elijah and Jesus are assumed into heaven (1 Kings 2:11; Luke 24:50-53: Acts 1:1-1), the former with the aid of Apollo’s chariot, but both are pointedly separated from their disciples (2 Kings 2:11; Luke 24:51). After this, the promised spirit comes, empowering the disciples (2 Kings 2:15; Acts 2:4). And just as Elijah’s ascent is witnessed by disciples, whose search failed to turn up his body (2 Kings 2:16-18), so is Jesus’ after they find only an empty tomb (Luke 24:3; Acts 1:9-11).

Scholars have proposed additional instances where the Gospels or Acts may reflect awareness of Josephus’ works. In Acts 5, Gamaliel mentions Theudas and Judas the Galilean as failed messianic figures. Josephus (Antiquities 20.5.1; 18.1.1) describes Theudas (c. 44–46 CE) and Judas (c. 6 CE) in a similar order and context. Some scholars, like Price and Carrier, argue Luke-Acts’ author used Josephus’ chronology, as Theudas postdates Judas, and no other source aligns them this way. This suggests a post-94 CE date for Acts.

Steve Mason and others note that Mark’s geographical references to Judea and Galilee (e.g., Mark 1:5, 10:1) align with Josephus’ descriptions in Jewish War and Antiquities. For instance, Mark’s depiction of the Sea of Galilee and surrounding regions may reflect Josephus’ detailed accounts of the area’s socio-political landscape.

Luke’s mention of a census under Quirinius (c. 6 CE) aligns with Josephus’ account of the census sparking unrest under Judas the Galilean. Critics like Carrier argue Luke’s details (e.g., a global census under Augustus) are historically inaccurate but reflect Josephus’ narrative, suggesting Luke relied on Antiquities. This supports a later date (post-94 CE) for Luke.

Luke mentions Lysanias as tetrarch of Abilene during Jesus’ ministry (c. 27–30 CE). Josephus describes a Lysanias executed earlier (c. 36 BCE) but also mentions a later Abilene ruler. Some argue Luke misread or adapted Josephus’ account, implying dependence. However, epigraphic evidence (e.g., inscriptions mentioning a later Lysanias) weakens this claim.

As noted, the mention of Theudas preceding Judas in Acts mirrors Josephus’ Antiquities but is chronologically problematic, as Theudas’ revolt (44–46 CE) occurred after Judas’ (6 CE). This suggests the author of Acts may have used Josephus’ text rather than independent sources, supporting a post-94 CE date.

Acts describes a Roman official mistaking Paul for an “Egyptian” who led a revolt. Josephus details a similar Egyptian prophet leading followers to the Mount of Olives (c. 50s CE). The shared details (e.g., leading followers to a mountain, expecting divine intervention) suggest Acts’ author knew Josephus’ account, reinforcing a later dating.

John describes the Pool of Bethesda with five porticoes, a detail some argue aligns with Josephus’ description of Jerusalem’s topography. While not a strong case for dependence, it suggests John’s author may have had access to detailed sources like Josephus.

Some scholars, like Price, propose John’s apocalyptic elements (e.g., cosmic judgment) echo Josephus’ descriptions of Jewish sectarian expectations (Antiquities 18.1.1). 

Likewise, if Paul’s letters are late, they too seem to be reflective of the kinds of things Josephus was writing about.  For example:

Romans 13:1–7 (Submission to Authorities): Paul urges Christians to submit to governing authorities, calling them God’s servants. Josephus, in Jewish War (2.8.1–9) and Antiquities (18.1.1), describes Jewish sects (e.g., Pharisees, Essenes) navigating Roman rule, with some advocating cooperation to avoid rebellion. A second-century author might have drawn on Josephus’ portrayal of Jewish accommodation to Roman power to craft Romans 13, reflecting a context where Christians faced similar pressures post-Jewish War (70 CE) or later.

(Romans 9–11): Paul’s discussion of Israel’s role in salvation history might echo Josephus’ emphasis on God’s providence in Jewish history (Antiquities 1.1.1–2). A second-century writer might have used Josephus’ framework to address Jewish-Christian tensions, and these ideas are rooted in earlier Jewish scriptures (e.g., Isaiah, Deuteronomy).

Galatians 1–2 (Judaizers and Law): Paul’s conflict with “Judaizers” over circumcision and Torah observance could reflect second-century debates, as Price suggests, possibly informed by Josephus’ descriptions of Jewish factions (Antiquities 18.1.2–6). Josephus details Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes, noting their views on law and tradition. A later author might have used Josephus to contextualize Paul’s opponents as akin to legalistic Pharisees.

1 Corinthians 1–2 (Wisdom and Folly): Paul contrasts divine wisdom with human philosophy, possibly engaging Greco-Roman or Jewish intellectual traditions. Josephus (Antiquities 8.2.1) describes Solomon’s wisdom in terms akin to Hellenistic philosophy, which a second-century Christian author might have adapted to frame Paul’s rhetoric.

Philippians 3:20 (Citizenship in Heaven): Paul’s metaphor of Christians as citizens of a heavenly polity might resonate with Josephus’ discussions of Jewish identity under Roman rule (Jewish War 2.16.4). A second-century writer, aware of Josephus’ portrayal of Jewish loyalty to Rome, could have crafted this to align Christian identity with a transcendent “citizenship.”

1 Thessalonians 4:13–5:11 (Eschatology): Paul’s apocalyptic imagery (e.g., the Lord’s sudden coming) might be compared to Josephus’ accounts of Jewish messianic expectations (Jewish War 6.5.4, on oracles predicting a world ruler). A second-century author could have drawn on Josephus to shape Paul’s eschatology, reflecting post-70 CE messianic disappointments.

Philemon (Slavery and Freedom): Paul’s appeal for Onesimus’ freedom could echo Josephus’ discussions of slavery in Jewish contexts (Antiquities 4.8.27). A second-century writer might have used Josephus to frame a Christian ethic on slavery.

MORE NEXT TIME AS WE CONTINUE TO QUEST FOR THE HISTORICAL PAUL!

Next Time:

THE QUEST FOR THE HISTORICAL PAUL (Part 4: Paul and the Schools)