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THE QUEST FOR THE HISTORICAL PAUL (Part 6/8: The Dog Who Stopped the War)

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(Introduction)

If the Gospels, Acts, and Pauline letters are fictive 2^nd century writings, the Q source would then be our only early source about Jesus.  The “Q” source, a hypothetical document in historical Jesus studies, is thought to contain sayings of Jesus shared by Matthew and Luke but not Mark. Since Q is reconstructed from these shared texts, it primarily focuses on Jesus’ teachings, such as parables and ethical instructions, rather than narrative events.

Scholars generally agree that Q does not explicitly mention Jesus’ crucifixion or resurrection. It lacks clear references to these events or any theological emphasis on them being necessary for salvation. Instead, Q portrays Jesus as a wisdom teacher or prophetic figure, emphasizing his sayings and ethical demands over a passion narrative or soteriological framework.

For example, passages attributed to Q (e.g., Luke 11:2-4, Matthew 6:9-13 for the Lord’s Prayer) focus on teachings about prayer, the kingdom of God, and moral behavior, with no direct allusion to crucifixion or resurrection. Some scholars argue Q might imply an expectation of vindication (e.g., in sayings about the Son of Man), but this is vague and not explicitly tied to resurrection or salvation through death.

However, the absence of these themes in Q is debated, as it depends on how one reconstructs Q and interprets its scope. The consensus leans toward Q being a sayings collection, not a narrative of Jesus’ death or resurrection, unlike the canonical Gospels.  I noted previously if the letters and Gospels/Acts are second century, the development of crucifixion as theologically relevant to the Jesus story may have arisen in a crucifixion culture where the punishment blended with the Zeitgeist (e.g., “taking up the cross”; “crucifying the flesh”; etc).  Crossan supposes something similar where parables by Jesus evolved into stories about Jesus in Crossan’s “The Power of Parable.”  Scholars like John S. Kloppenborg (in The Formation of Q) argue Q does not narrate or presuppose Jesus’ crucifixion but uses the cross as a symbol of the hardships disciples must face, aligning with Q’s persecution theme (e.g., Q 6:22–23, 12:4–5).

(Sources)

This is not generally considered to be thought provoking for conventional “cross-resurrection salvation” reading of the New Testament because our other traditionally  considered oldest source, the letters of Paul, is replete with the cross and Jesus’ death (“I resolved to know nothing among you but Christ and him crucified”).  On the other hand, Pauline specialist Nina Livesey’s recent book invites us to consider the possibility of a date of the Pauline letters into the second century post 2nd Jewish revolt: The Bar Kokhba Revolt took place from 132 to 136 CE.  The cross might thereby a later literary invention with such rhetorical weight mentioned in a previous article of “pick up your cross and follow me; crucify the flesh; etc.”

As I said in a previous article, Vinzent points to the sequence of Marcion’s 7 Pauline epistles that agree with the canonical letter as being reflective of the canonical Pauline interpretation.  They are not without order.  In Marcion’s Galatians 5:21 we have a reference to : “the flesh is not inheriting the kingdom of heaven as I have said before.”  The reference is to 1 Cor 15:50.  Galatians is first in the Marcionite collection, but this reference agrees with the canonical collection as 1 Cor being earlier.  This suggests Marcion has reordered a collection that reflects the traditional canonical ordering.  But if Marcion altered the canonical order of the texts, why?  It’s interesting Paul references Corinthians in Galatians but not saying where/that he is doing so, as though he assumes the Galatian audience would just know he is talking about the Corinthians letter.  In other words, this seems to suggest an intended reader who has the entire seven letter collection of Marcion and have a sophisticated understanding of them, which points to fictive correspondence. 

The Marcionite presence of the Paulines and Deutero Paulines, though they contradict each other at points, reflects well the Old Testament notion of a school.  Price comments:

And though Schenke himself does not invoke the analogy of the schools of the Old Testament prophets, I believe the comparison is a helpful one. It invites us to understand the Pauline corpus, as Marcion did, as the private canon, the sectarian scripture, of a particular Christian body, the Pauline School in this case. This is much like the composite book of Isaiah, which contains not only the oracles of the original Isaiah of Jerusalem but also the deutero- and trito-Isaianic supplements of his latter-day heirs. As in the case of the Isaiah canon where (a la Paul D. Hanson) we find intra-canonical collisions (cf. Ernst Käsemann), so we find Pauline versus deutero-Pauline clashes here and there… Van Manen saw no reason to doubt the existence of Paul as an early Christian preacher, whose genuine itinerary he thought had been preserved in Acts, but he judged the so-called Pauline epistles to have as little direct connection to this early apostle as the so-called Johannine and Petrine writings have with their historically obscure namesakes. The epistles, Van Manen argued, display a universalizing and philosophizing tenor unthinkable for the apocalyptic sect pictured in Acts or the Gospels. Their greatest affinity was with Syrian Gnosticism. Nor did they represent the thinking of one theologian (the “Paulus Episcopus” of Pierson and Naber). Rather, in the Pauline epistles, we overhear intra-scholastic debates between different wings of Paulinism. Has God finally cast off the Jewish people or not? Does grace imply libertinism, as some hold? Do some preach circumcision in Paul’s name? Can women prophesy or not?  Price, Robert M.. The Amazing Colossal Apostle: The Search for the Historical Paul (p. 77-78). Signature Books. Kindle Edition.

Critics like Tertullian argued Marcion’s ordering and edits distorted Paul’s intent, accusing him of cherry-picking texts to fit his heresy. The orthodox later placed Romans first in Pauline collections, possibly to counter Marcion’s emphasis on Galatians’ anti-Law stance.  Marcion likely placed Galatians first because it best encapsulated his theological priorities: the rejection of the Old Testament God, the supremacy of Paul’s gospel, and the separation of Christianity from Judaism. Its strong anti-Law rhetoric and Paul’s apostolic defense made it a fitting opener to his Apostolikon, setting the stage for his edited versions of other Pauline letters.

While his exact motivations remain speculative due to lost primary sources, the content of Galatians and Marcion’s documented beliefs provide a compelling case for its prominence in his canon.  Marcion complained the canonical gospels plagiarized his gospel, and the supposed early attestation of early gospels by Papias goes against Papias talking about Marcion, which is sometimes omitted by scholars against the fact that Papias’ mention of Marcion is present in all our manuscript evidence.  There is evidence that Marcion created the first gospel  (which looks like a shorter gospel of Luke) for many reasons, including the canonical Luke seems based on an earlier form where the preface is missing and the birth narrative seems tacked on like the longer ending of Mark).  Ehrman comments:

As I’ve indicated, 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 Luke’s narrative (counting both Luke and Acts), 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 in the book of Acts as, “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…   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 thing 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.

Establishing a traditional canonical sequence of letters does not point us back to a historical Paul.  There is a tendency in New Testament studies to find an anchor point that a text couldn’t be earlier than and then date the text as early as possible (e.g., a 70 CE date for Mark).  Intertextuality is suggestive of a single writer or writer group, not a particular writer like a historical Paul or that we are even dealing with authentic correspondence.  For example, with our best analogy to Livesey’s fictive epistle approach, the fictive moral epistles of Seneca, we also see intertextuality where there are instances where Seneca implicitly connects letters through recurring themes, repeated ideas, or references to ongoing discussions.  Seneca alludes to earlier conversations or writings with Lucilius. For instance: In Epistle 21.1, Seneca mentions advising Lucilius to seek fame through virtue, which echoes themes from earlier letters like Epistle 13 (on handling fears and public opinion).  In Epistle 75.1, Seneca refers to Lucilius’ request for simpler letters, possibly alluding to the style or content of prior correspondence.

The seven-letter group of Marcion’s “genuine” letter collection among his ten letters may pre-date Marcion, but it may not do so by very much time.  Or, they may represent different writer groups in Marcion’s school.    As I said in an earlier article, writing in role was an important feature of ancient education, as it is today with “RAFT” writing assignments. 

RAFT is a versatile writing strategy used in education. It stands for Role, Audience, Format, and Topic. This strategy helps students understand their role as writers, the intended audience, and the appropriate format and topic for their writing. RAFT encourages students to think creatively, consider different perspectives, and write for a variety of audiences.

Here’s a breakdown of each RAFT component:

Role: The writer’s perspective or position in the writing.

Audience: The intended reader or recipient of the writing.

Format: The type of writing (e.g., letter, poem, report).

Topic: The subject matter of the writing.

RAFT can be applied across different subjects and grade levels, helping students develop a deeper understanding of writing and communication. It’s also been studied by institutions like the Stanford University School of Business, KPMG and Deloitte.

All that is really established is regarding Marcion’s ten-letter collection, seven form a distinct group attributable to one viewpoint or syn-optic, which in no way establishes by how much time this precedes Marcion or if this goes back to a single figure, let alone the historical Paul. By analogy, Q 1 simply groups sayings in the Q source of a similar cynic flavor, which need not go back to a single sage of that school, certainly not necessarily to the historical Jesus.  It may just reflect pagan syncretism with the early Jesus movement because the ones we know who talked about selling possessions and adopting the itinerant lifestyle like Jesus were the cynics.  Price comments “An overarching unity among the Pauline epistles means only that there is the general conformity of a school of thought, not that of a single authorship.  (Price, Robert M.. The Amazing Colossal Apostle: The Search for the Historical Paul (p. 50). Signature Books. Kindle Edition.”)

The notion of the Pauline literature emerging in a school of writers like Marcion’s makes sense of the inconsistencies in the “Pauline like” 1 Corinthians seeming to contradict the previous page every time you flip the paper.  Ehrman has also noted contradictory accounts of salvation in Paul.  Salvation in Romans is understood in different ways throughout Romans.  The backstory for Romans is different because Paul is supposedly writing to a church he did not himself create, so he is trying to be systematic about his message.  Topic: In Romans, human beings are alienated from God because of their sinful lives, and the death and resurrection of Jesus can fix the relationship.  This is like a writing prompt that has been given to students who solve it in completely different ways.  Paul in Romans has different models for expressing this which appear to contradict each other with completely opposed views to what sin is (human transgressions vs a cosmic power). 

(A) There is the judicial model in Romans 1-4.  God is a law giver.  He also judges criminal cases.  Everybody breaks God’s laws, so there is a penalty and it’s the death penalty.  Everyone sins, so everyone dies.  Put differently, you’ve incurred a fine and it must be paid.  Jesus pays it for you.  Jesus being raised from the dead shows the penalty has been paid because he’s no longer dead.  We see this kind of substitutional view in 4 Maccabees.  It’s long been debated whether if Christ paid the penalty everyone is saved.  For Paul, you have to believe in Christ and accept the payment because if you don’t agree with Christ to pay your fine he can’t.  It would be like your mom offering to pay your fine in court but you say no.  Salvation comes when you believe and trust Christ’s payment works. 

(B) There is also a participation model in Romans 5-8.  Sin brings about separation from God.  Sin in this model is not a transgression but a cosmic power in the universe.  It has imprisoned, trapped, and enslaved people: think of Satan entering Judas in the gospels (Luke 22:3, John 13:27), which is where Paul might be getting this model from.  It controls people and forces them to do things against God’s will.  In these blog posts I’ve tried to show how readers being implicated in the world turning on Christ / Christ’s death breaks the spell of Sin and opens people’s eye to their vileness.  Sin is a power that forces you to do wrong even if you want to do right, and the power of Sin hands you over to the power of Death.  Being implicated in Jesus’ death solves the problem of alienation from God here with your metanoia/renewal of mind/repentance, but not as a payment as with the judicial model.  It’s not that you’re breaking the law, but that you’ve been enslaved, so you have to be liberated.  The reader seeing themselves in the world that brought about Christ’s death interrupts the power of sin, and the resurrected Christ indwells within you, uniting you with him as buried and raised when baptized, to combat Satan’s temptations.  You participate in Christ’s death because when his death convicts you, your fleshly is crucified / circumcising your heart, revealing the Law written on it (Romans 2:14-15).  Christ’s resurrection shows he nullified the Power of Death, which is important because the bible says if the dead are not raised we might as well be gluttons and drunks for tomorrow we die (1 Corinthians 15:32; Isaiah 22:13).  By contrast, Paul urges “So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31).”  Paul says “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins (1 Cor 15:17).”

Thus in Romans we have 2 models of sin.  One is consciously disobeying God, and the other is enslavement to the power of sin, each having different paths to salvation.  What seems to have happened here is that we have the school setting noted previously where different students have proposed different models for Christians dealing with the problem of the human condition of alienation from God because of Sin.  A teacher/editor then seems to have taken these disparate images of salvation and interweaved them.  Analogously, modern biblical scholarship has proposed that the Gospel of John may have multiple layers of composition, potentially involving different authors or sources, with a final editor (or redactor) integrating them.  A Pauline editor could do so here according to the pagan notion of a sophist who tries to argue in sometimes contradictory ways and say whatever they want to win the day (1 Corinthians 9:20-22).  If Livesey is right that the letters are inspired by Acts, this all seems to reflect Paul’s teacher Gamaliel with his open-minded, flexible approach to the Law, and in cases of not knowing an answer brainstorming multiple perspective thereby letting God affirm His favorite choice.  For instance, his famous advice in Acts 5:34–39, where he urged the Sanhedrin to show caution toward the apostles, reflects a pragmatic and open-ended approach: “If their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men.” This suggests a willingness to consider multiple possibilities without rushing to judgment, a mindset that could align with polysemous thinking.  Recall that all Paul really “required” of a convert was “if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved (Romans 10:9).”

This fits well with Greek thought.  Plato frequently employs vivid imagery and metaphors to explore complex philosophical concepts, including the nature of the mind, soul, and human behavior like Paul does with the competing judicial model and participation model outlined above. Plato’s dialogues often feature characters using multiple, sometimes competing images to describe the same concept, reflecting different perspectives or aspects of a single idea. This technique is particularly evident in dialogues where characters grapple with abstract notions like the soul, knowledge, or justice.  For example, In Theaetetus, Socrates discusses knowledge and the mind using two distinct images, which could be seen as competing ways to understand cognition:  The Wax Tablet (191c–e): Socrates compares the mind to a wax tablet where perceptions and thoughts leave impressions. The quality of the wax (clear or muddy) determines how well one retains knowledge. This image emphasizes memory as a passive process of imprinting.  The Aviary (197d–e): Later, Socrates likens the mind to an aviary filled with birds, representing pieces of knowledge. Some birds (knowledge) are caught and held, while others fly freely, symbolizing the active process of recalling or grasping knowledge. This contrasts with the wax tablet’s static nature by portraying the mind as dynamic and selective.  These images are not explicitly in conflict, but Socrates uses them to highlight different problems: the wax tablet addresses perception and memory, while the aviary tackles the act of recalling knowledge. Theaetetus and Socrates explore these images sequentially, testing each to probe the nature of knowledge.  And Paul?

Some sources suggest that Paul’s teacher Gamaliel encouraged or engaged with Greek literature, which often included philosophical texts. For instance, one source claims that Gamaliel “insisted that his pupils study the Greek poets” . Since Greek poetry was frequently intertwined with philosophical themes in Hellenistic education, this could imply exposure to philosophical ideas. Another source notes that Gamaliel “studied not only Biblical law, but also Greek literature,” setting him apart from more zealous rabbinical colleagues.  Paul, Gamaliel’s student, demonstrates familiarity with Greek philosophy in his writings and speeches. In Acts 17:16–34, Paul engages with Epicurean and Stoic philosophers in Athens, quoting Greek poets like Aratus and Epimenides and using Stoic concepts (e.g., God as the source of all life, Acts 17:25, echoing Seneca). Paul imports the notion of pneuma-spirit from stoicism, for instance.  Paul’s ability to navigate Greek philosophical ideas suggests that his education, likely under Gamaliel, included some exposure to Hellenistic thought. One source explicitly states that “Gamaliel’s School (which Paul was a student of), encouraged the careful study of Greek Philosophy.”   So, we might start to take Paul’s competing images for understanding how to overcome sin an reconcile with God in Romans, not literally, but figuratively.  For example, Jesus does not literally pay a sin debt, as though the average person’s occasional naughtiness warrants the death penalty.  Rather it means universality: salvation is open to all, whether you tell a white lie occasionally or by contrast are a serial murderer.

Since Martin Luther in the 16^th century, the judicial model and justification by faith has been the main approach to Paul, the apocalyptic Death and Sin as “powers” participation model not really understood.  And there are more in Paul.  Another model in Paul is the reconciliation model where God and man are like 2 estranged friends and Jesus acts as mediator.  Yet another model is that of a slave, not paying a fine like in the judicial model, but a ransom being paid to release the slave.                

As I noted in an earlier essay Paul seems legendary, e.g., if the Pauline letters are pseudonymous Paul might just be an idealized figure representing the Old Testament prediction that at the end of days/the age a prophet would bring the message of God to the pagans (echoing the apocalyptic overtones of the Bar Kokhba revolt); also, Paul is cast as a chief persecutor of the church who becomes its hero second only to Jesus: what an amazing apologetic about the truth and converting power of the faith!  We should attend carefully to Livesey’s analogy of the pseudonymous letters of Plato and related Hugo Mendez’s analysis of the pseudonymous Gospel and epistles of John to make it seem the beloved disciple wrote them, so even though we have earlier testimonies like Mark, Matthew, and Luke, the beloved disciple (John son of Zebedee because Peter and James are excluded), knew what Jesus really meant, and so the earlier gospels should be read through the lens of John, which is what people usually do.  The massive conservative Christian Daystar network, for instance, will send a copy of the Gospel of John to new converts who know nothing about Christianity but say the sinner’s prayer. 

The earliest reception history for the Gospel of John,  John 21 which is a later stratum addition to the Gospel of John itself, understands the author as the beloved disciple.  The Gospel presents itself as the work of an eyewitness to the events of Jesus’ ministry and death. It doesn’t say it was written by John but instead states that it is the work of a “disciple whom Jesus loved,” who “testifies” to what he has seen (1:14; 19:35; 21:24). Eyewitness testimony here is an important point in the Gospel. It is because the one who wrote the Gospel had seen these things happen and written them down that “we know that his testimony is true” (21:24). (Moss, 2020).  Mendez argues the Gospel of John and 3 letters of John fictively “imply” the beloved disciple as the author though the differences in writing suggests a group of different authors behind the pseudonymous beloved disciple.

So, just as Livesey suggests an invention of Paul in Acts which spawned fictive letters writing in role in Paul’s name, like the fictive letter collections of Seneca and Plato, we have the invention of a pseudonymous beloved disciple in the Johannine literature who was the only one who really knew Jesus’ true message, as shown in the Gospel of John and the three letter collection of John’s epistles also written in role as the beloved disciple.  See Mendez HERE and HERE.  This agrees with Robyn Faith Walsh with Mendez arguing for a Johannine writing group and against the existence of a Johannine community: 

Critically, Prof. Anderson and I stand in two different camps on the question of whether the Beloved Disciple is a historical figure—a question currently dividing Johannine scholars. Prof. Anderson assumes that the Beloved Disciple definitely existed. I, on the other hand, am skeptical. I have found the arguments of Ismo Dunderberg and Harry Attridge that the Beloved Disciple is probably some sort of literary device compelling. I have also been persuaded by David Litwa’s comparisons of the Beloved Disciple to invented eyewitnesses in ancient literature. As I see it, the most damning evidence against the disciple’s existence is the fact that “every Synoptic parallel that could corroborate [the disciple’s] presence at a given moment in Jesus’ life does not – not the Synoptic crucifixion scenes (cf. Mk 15.40-41; Mt. 27.55-56; Jn 19.26-27) nor Luke’s description of Peter’s visit to the tomb (Lk. 24.12; cf. Jn 20.2-10)” (363). I also find the artificial and idealized texture of the disciple highly suspicious. These issues cannot be dismissed easily.  Because we differ on the historicity of the “Beloved Disciple,” we also differ on the historicity of “the Elder” since my paper revives the case for seeing the two as a single authorial construct (as indeed the earliest writers to comment on these texts inferred).

The canonical gospels fit the canonical Paul because they were redacted that way, just as Marcion’s gospel fits Marcion’s collection of Pauline letters.  William O Walker notes “In short, it appears likely that the emerging Catholic leadership in the Churches “standardized” the text of the Pauline corpus in the light of “orthodox” views and practices, suppressing and even destroying all deviant texts and manuscripts. Thus it is that we have no manuscripts dating from earlier than the third century; it is that all of the extant manuscripts are remarkably similar in most of their significant features.”

According to some, as to a second century dating, Mark, Matthew and Luke’s reference to the Olivet discourse (In Mark 13) seems to reference not just the 70 CE destruction but the tragedy of the Bar Kokhba Revolt, and so among other reasons would date the gospels into a hundred years after the supposed death of Jesus (if placing his death in the age of Pilate is right).  Some scholars speculate that Q might indirectly reference Roman authorities in sayings about persecution or judgment (e.g., Luke 12:11-12, Matthew 10:17-18), but these are general and do not name Pilate specifically. The consensus is that Q does not mention him.

In a previous article we considered that a first century Jesus may have been invented post Bar Kokhba as historical fiction to consider what would have tragically happened if God’s especially beloved appeared when some interpretations of the 70 weeks of Daniel timeline predicted.  God’s wrath of 70 CE and the 130s CE would make sense as yet another instance of God’s wrath at Jewish disobedience. 

Expanding on the thoughts of Neal Sendlak, the writings could have made sense for a Jew trying to make sense of the destruction of the Jews following the Bar Kokhba revolt as prophesied in scriptures like Lamentations 4:20 and so invent a messiah figure Jesus (meaning “God Saves”) who succeeds where the messianic claimant of the revolt and in fact all such messianic claimants historically failed.  The verse reads: “The Lord’s anointed, our very life breath, was caught in their traps; we had thought that under his shadow we would live among the nations.” ‘Jesus’ the name was just the name of the great hero Joshua, and many messianic claimants like Theudas and the Egyptian were trying to re-enact Joshua’s legacy.  There is new peer reviewed scholarship coming out by Carrier in October that tries to revitalize the argument that some Christians supposed Jesus was killed BCE.  Carrier notes:

Ehrman first confuses himself here. His slides correctly quote JFOS as saying 75 BC (the time of Alexander Jannaeus in which the Babylonian Talmud, and Jewish Christians in the same region according to Epiphanius, placed the execution of Jesus) is “almost a hundred years before the Romans even took control of Judea” (though Ehrman leaves out the rest of that sentence: “and a full hundred years before Pontius Pilate was put in charge of it”). Ehrman wonders if this is a typo because 75 BC + 100 would get 25 AD (actually 24 AD), but live, in the lecture, he misread the quote, skipping the word “almost.” The Romans took over Judea in 6 AD, which is over 80 years later, which is indeed “almost” 100 years, as I make clear by noting a “full” 100 years then brings us to the time of Pilate (in the 20s AD). Ehrman’s mistake here evinces a lazy carelessness that typifies his entire approach to this subject and its scholarship. Ehrman even calls this a factual mistake—but I’m the one who is correct. The factual mistake is his.  That’s a trivial example, but still illustrative (he should not be making a mistake like that). But there is a far more important example: Ehrman also misstates my position as “the original Christians in Jerusalem…believed that Jesus was crucified in 75 BC,” but that’s not my position: my position (if he had ever actually read it) is that there were later Christians who believed that (we have this confirmed by two independent sources: that’s why we believe Epiphanius on this, because he describes the exact same group attacked in the Talmud, so they corroborate each other). And that does not necessarily mean the “original” Christians, but only some Christians of the second or third generation—possibly even later, but early enough to evince a liberality of when to place Jesus in history that is only likely if there was no actual history (like our revered Gospels) constraining their choice. I also have no idea why he thinks any of this involved “Jerusalem” Christians—we’re talking about Christians across the Jordan (JFOS, p. 12).  Ehrman also doesn’t know what Epiphanius said, or why historians agree the Talmud also dates Jesus to the 70s B.C., referencing the same sect as Epiphanius (ideologically and geographically). And he also does not appear to understand the difference between Jewish Christianity (Nazorianism) and Gentile Christianity (Ehrman also misspells Nazorians as Nazareans, confusing a different sect Epiphanius talks about, the Nasareans). And he does not appear to understand why the Babylonian Rabbis would be keen to debunk only an immediate Jewish threat to their faith—hence why they never mention the Gospel Jesus or its chronology, only this completely different one, because it was the one poaching their turf.

Carrier is not arguing for putting Jesus that early, but that it is thereby conceivable that putting Jesus under Pilate is just as fanciful.  What it seems though is perhaps Jesus is just a generic name for a Messiah (the same as being “a” Joshua as I noted above, which is what Jesus’ name means), and the story is imagining what would have happened to him like every other messianic claimant even if he was God’s beloved (agapetos) messenger (angelos), except as I noted previously Jesus trumped Rome, not militarily, but in the words of the converted soldier at the cross and the resurrection because what set Jesus apart is that Jesus was God’s chosen beloved. 

Likewise, Paul seems to be a generic figure of the one prophesied to bring the message of God to the world for the end time, Jesus being the one to bring the message to the Jews.  In this way, they function as generic figures the inserted into history.  Berman notes making a different argument than I am here, we seem to have Paul being placed in different time periods.  Paul says in his letter to the Corinthians he fled from King Aretas in a basket, which puts him in the 30s CE.  By contrast, Acts mentions Paul was pleading with Felix and Herod Agrippa the second, which would place Paul around 61CE.  Likewise, In Galatians we have Paul arguing with James, supposedly the brother of Jesus.  Josephus mentions James’ death circa 62 CE.  By contrast, Jerome identifies Saul/Paul as a young man during the events of the 70s CE war and writing in the 90s, which would agree with the Acts of Timothy identifying Paul’s companion and writing partner Timothy dying at the turn of the second century rather than the Paul arguing with James. 

In this way Jesus and Paul are not so much names but nickname/role titles like Simon earning the name Peter or “The Rock” from Jesus.  Matthew hints Jesus is not a name, such as Matthew 1:23, which says, “Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us).” This verse is also a reference to Isaiah 7:14, where the same name is mentioned. 

Thus, in the Philippian Christ Hymn we have the idea of a paradigmatic servant to mankind being exalted for his service and given the designation “Lord” / name “Jesus (Jesus is given the name “above every name” in Philippians 2:9).”  “Jesus” literally means “God Saves,” and because of his service such a figure would be adopted by God and given a new name, like Octavian was adopted by Ceasar and given the new name Augustus (“majestic,” “venerable,” or “great”) by the Roman senate, an adopted son being more beloved than an a natural son in the ancient world because adoption is a choice (see Michael Peppard, The Son of God in the Roman World).  This was the primary meaning of the resurrection before it took on a Pharisaic tint as referring to humanity’s resurrection.  Ehrman notes:

It was, in fact, often the case that an adopted son in the Roman world was given a greater, higher status than a child who was a son by birth. The “natural” son was who he was more or less by accident; his virtues and fine qualities had nothing to do with the fact that he was born as the child of two parents. The “adopted” son on the other hand – who was normally adopted as an adult — was adopted precisely because of his fine qualities and excellent potential. He was made great because he had demonstrated the potential for greatness, not because of the accident of his birth. This can be seen in the praise showered upon the emperor Trajan by one of his subjects, the famous author Pliny the Younger, who stated that “your merits did indeed call for your adoption as successor long ago.”  That is why it was often the case that adopted sons were already adults when made the legal heir of a powerful figure or aristocrat. And what did it mean to be made the legal heir? It meant inheriting all of the adoptive father’s wealth, property, status, dependents, and clients – in other words, all of the adopted father’s power and prestige. As Roman historian Christiane Kunst has put it: “The adopted son …exchanged his own [status] and took over the status of the adoptive father.”  When the earliest Christians talked about Jesus becoming the Son of God at his resurrection, they were saying something truly remarkable about him. He was made the heir of all that was God’s. He exchanged his status for the status possessed by the Creator and Ruler of all things. He received all of God’s power and privileges. He could defy death. He could forgive sins. He could be the future judge of the earth. He could rule with divine authority. He was for all intents and purposes God.” 

The Philippian Christ Hymn notes Jesus was in the form/morphe of God but earned an exaltation and name he didn’t previously have.  We say, for example, “good form/well done” when someone is being a genuine or exemplary friend.  Aristotle in Physics gives the example of a great work being Art “incarnate” or a circling eagle being Nature incarnate.  Plato speaks of the parousia or appearing of Beauty and Housensess through the magnificent mansion: now that’s a house!  Plato called Beauty the ekphanestaton, the most properly appearing that lets Being scintillate at the same time. 

Jesus was God prior to his exaltation in the limited sense of the Law/Word personified, exemplifying love of God above all else shown through love of widow, orphan, alien, and enemy as more important than self – as demonstrated by his ministry and willingly going to the cross despite terror (e.g., Gethsemane).  No one is sinless (e.g., Jesus’ temple tantrum that led to Roman charges of sedition/leading a revolt as King of the Jews), but he had a sinless disposition and righteous indignation where the Law shone through.  Jesus was thus seditious in the eyes of the world but acting out of righteous indignation in God’s eyes.

Lamentations and Inventing a Jesus Placed in the 30’s?

Lamentations, traditionally attributed to Jeremiah, was written in response to the Babylonian destruction of Jerusalem in 586 BCE. It mourns the fall of the city, the temple’s destruction, and the exile of the Jewish people. In Lamentations 4:20, “the Lord’s anointed” likely refers to the Davidic king (possibly Zedekiah), whose capture by the Babylonians symbolized the collapse of Judah’s hopes for protection and continuity. The verse captures the despair of a people who believed their anointed leader would ensure their survival, only to see him ensnared, leading to their downfall.

The Bar Kokhba revolt was a Jewish rebellion against Roman rule, led by Simon Bar Kokhba, whom many Jews viewed as a messianic figure. The revolt initially succeeded but was brutally crushed by the Romans, resulting in massive loss of life, the destruction of Jewish communities, and the expulsion of Jews from Jerusalem. The defeat was catastrophic, with estimates of hundreds of thousands killed or enslaved and Judea left in ruins.

Jews during the Bar Kokhba revolt, steeped in scripture, often interpreted contemporary events through the lens of earlier texts, seeking meaning in their suffering. I argued previously a crucified God’s beloved Jesus blamed on the Jewish elite might bring clarity to God allowing the 70 CE temple destruction and the horror of Bar Kokhba.  Lamentations 4:20 could have resonated strongly for several reasons. Many Jews saw Bar Kokhba as “the Lord’s anointed,” a potential messiah who would restore Israel’s independence. Rabbinic sources, like the Jerusalem Talmud (Ta’anit 4:8), indicate that Rabbi Akiva, a prominent figure, supported Bar Kokhba as a messianic leader. The verse’s reference to the “anointed” being “caught in their traps” could have been seen as prophetic of Bar Kokhba’s eventual defeat and death, which dashed hopes of redemption.

The verse’s lament that “we had thought that under his shadow we would live among the nations” mirrors the shattered expectations of Jews who believed Bar Kokhba’s leadership would protect them from Roman oppression. The revolt’s failure, with its devastating consequences, echoed the earlier fall of Jerusalem described in Lamentations, making the text feel relevant.

Jewish thought often viewed history as cyclical, with God’s judgment and redemption recurring across generations. The destruction of the First Temple (reflected in Lamentations) and the Second Temple (70 CE), followed by the Bar Kokhba disaster, could have been seen as part of a pattern of divine punishment for sin or testing of faith. Lamentations 4:20’s imagery of a fallen leader and a trapped people could have been applied to explain the revolt’s failure as a divine warning or judgment.

The verse’s mention of living “among the nations” could have resonated with Jews facing exile or dispersal after the revolt. The Romans’ ban on Jews entering Jerusalem and the enslavement of many survivors paralleled the Babylonian exile, reinforcing the sense that Lamentations spoke to their present suffering.

While no direct textual evidence from the period explicitly links Lamentations 4:20 to the Bar Kokhba revolt, Jewish interpretive traditions support this possibility.  Rabbinic exegesis often applied ancient texts to contemporary events. For example, Lamentations Rabbah, a midrash compiled later but reflecting earlier traditions, interprets Lamentations in light of ongoing Jewish suffering, including post-70 CE events. A verse like 4:20 could have been read as speaking to the fall of a messianic hope like Bar Kokhba.

The expectation of a messiah was strong in the Second Temple period and beyond. Bar Kokhba’s failure likely prompted reflection on earlier texts about fallen leaders, such as Lamentations 4:20, to process the theological and emotional impact.

A Jew grappling with the destruction of the Bar Kokhba revolt could reasonably have seen Lamentations 4:20 as prophetic, interpreting Bar Kokhba as “the Lord’s anointed” whose defeat in “their traps” (Roman forces) mirrored the earlier fall of Judah’s king. The verse’s themes of dashed hopes, leadership failure, and survival among the nations would have resonated deeply with the trauma of the revolt’s aftermath, fitting the Jewish practice of finding contemporary meaning in ancient texts. 

It’s thus very simple to grasp our scenario.  One of the key stories in Mark I looked at previously was the trial of Jesus by the corrupt Jewish elite.  A writer post Bar Kokhba may have imagined that the Jewish elite back in the first century were so vile that if God actually had sent the Messiah, they would have arranged his death.  Such a corrupt leadership and slap in the face of God would explain God allowing the Romans to destroy the temple in 70 CE and boot the Jews from the land post Bar Kokhba.  The cycle repeated with Romans killing God’s anointed Simon Bar Kokhba.

Next Time:

THE QUEST FOR THE HISTORICAL PAUL (Conclusion Part 8/8: The Parallel Lives of Paul and Simon Magus)