Robert said

vergari said

I can certainly buy into the worker being worth his wages being an older aphorism, pre-dating Luke; and Luke included this aphorism in his writing. 

But positing a now-lost OT apocryphon demonstrably runs afoul of our friend Occam by multiplying entities. … positing an unknown (and now lost) Jewish aphorism (found nowhere else in ancient literature) that 1 Timothy just coincidentally happened to quote, right after the reference to scripture  … unique (near verbatim) references to the same aphorism, found nowhere else in the ancient literature. …

If an argument as to the date of Luke-Acts requires such an unnecessary violation of Occam’s razor, I would suggest a re-examination of the argument.  …

I certainly disagree with the adjective “general.” It’s an aphorism, but one without any trace of ancient pedigree beyond two documents which have a well-known traditional connection.

There are indeed traces and more than traces of an ancient pedigree.

Philo of Alexandria (Agr 5) may betray knowledge of such a general aphorism:

ὁ μὲν γῆς ἐργάτης πρὸς ἓν τέλος, τὸν μισθόν

the worker of the earth (works) to one end, the wage

And Lk 10,7 is thought to be the more original version of a Q-logion (Fitzmyer, Davies & Allison, Luz, IQP) being found also in Matthew 10,10 with one variation (‘food’/’keep’ instead of ‘wage’), in the same context:

ἄξιος γὰρ ὁ ἐργάτης τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ.

The Didache (13,2) understandably uses the Matthean form:

ὡσαύτως διδάσκαλος ἀληθινός ἐστιν ἄξιος καὶ αὐτός, ὥσπερ ὁ ἐργάτης, τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ.

… likewise a true teacher is himself worthy, as the worker, of his food

Ulrich Luz notes the catchwords ἐργάζομαι (1 Cor 9,6.13), μισθός (9,17–18), and ἐργάται (2 Cor 11,17) to suggest the possibility that Paul knew the saying in its Q form. Davies & Allison think that Paul definitely knew the Lukan form.

And especially the Lukan version of this logion may be understood as based on scripture. The letter of James (5,4) decries the rich who have withheld ‘the wages of the workers’ with the same words (ὁ μισθὸς τῶν ἐργατῶν) when he is no doubt thinking of Deuteronomy 24,14-15:

You shall not withhold the wages (μισθόν) of poor (πένητος) and needy laborers, whether other Israelites or aliens who reside in your land in one of your towns. You shall pay them their wages (ὁ μισθός) daily before sunset, because they are poor and their livelihood depends on them; otherwise they might cry to the LORD against you, and you would incur guilt.

Leviticus 19,13 also alludes to this same principle:

… the wages of a day laborer (ὁ μισθὸς* τοῦ μισθωτοῦ) shall not rest overnight with you until morning.

This same principle can be seen also in Tobit 4,14 (μισθὸς παντὸς ἀνθρώπου, ὃς ἐὰν ἐργάσηται) and Job 7,2 (μισθωτὸς ἀναμένων τὸν μισθὸν αὐτοῦ). A combination of Deuteronomy and Leviticus may be seen in the aphorisms of Jewish Pseudo-Phocylides: μισθὸν μοχθήσαντι δίδου; μὴ θλῖβε πένητα.

*I cannot resist noting that the Hebrew original here (פְּעֻלָּה peulah) is the origin (through Yiddish) of our slang term payola.  

I find this incredibly information and, truly, worth the price of membership to this blog! Robert, you should be taking a cut from Bart!

You have persuaded me that the aphorism does indeed have a generalized origin in Jewish traditions from the period.

That being said …

Let’s suppose this was an aphorism in Jewish circles, and let’s suppose Matthew and Luke are both quoting from the same or highly similar source — be that Q or some other source.  Let’s further suppose that the aphorism had taken on the trappings of “scripture” (making an inference from Paul’s knowledge of the aphorism).

Let’s suppose all of this.

What does it say that 1 Timothy is using a version of this aphorism almost verbatim in Luke … while the Didache is using a version highly similar to that in Matthew?

It fits very nicely into a portrait of the Didache being associated with the Matthean community … and the pastorals drawing from Lucan sources.

Perhaps “Luke” was not more broadly recognized as scripture at the time of 1 Timothy’s autograph; indeed, perhaps part of the purpose of 1 Timothy was to elevate the status of Luke.  Either case, the simplest explanation here is that 1 Timothy is using a written source for this aphorism, and that source is Luke.

Now, I think it’s possible to shrink the number of years between Luke and 1 Timothy so that we don’t need to push Luke too far forward.  But it makes some sense that Luke had to be circulating enough so that the intended audience for 1 Timothy would recognize the aphorism as coming from Luke.

As to Mark, it’s quite the riddle.  By all signs it anteceded Matthew and Luke; quite obviously, that is the near-universal scholarly consensus.  And yet, Matthew has more signs of an earlier, pre-Temple-destruction writing: teachings regarding the temple tax, swearing at the temple and gifts at the altar.  If Mark and Matthew, in the forms we have them, are post-70 CE, then it almost seems like Matthew would have had to exist in an embryonic form in an earlier period, likely pre-60 CE. 

My best guess is that the version of Mark we have was finalized sometime during descent of Nero into madness (CE 59-66), but I’m hardly sure of this.

I do not think the Olivet Discourse, as we see it in Mark, is necessarily vaticinium ex eventu following the First Jewish-Roman War.  The “prophecies” don’t track closely enough to the destruction of the temple (at least, as we know it).  When you tease out what’s unique in Mark’s Little Apocalypse from Daniel (particularly Daniel 9) — both have the Temple destroyed (in Daniel, it’s not long after the Anointed One is put to death); both have natural disasters; both have war; and both have the desecration of the sanctuary with an abomination that causes desolation — what you get is “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom,” the beginning of the birthpangs, the hope that women are not pregnant or nursing, the handing over of the disciples to Jewish and gentile authorities, and their trials, the false messiahs, and the hope that destruction does not come in winter. 

Joel Marcus has rightly raised the question of whether these were events that Mark and his readers knew had already happened, or were they merely events that Mark and his intended audience would anticipate will occur very shortly.

So much of the Little Apocalypse doesn’t ring true with what we know about the siege and destruction of Jerusalem, but does fit nicely into more generalized apocalyptic or eschatological prophecy (borrowing from Daniel), perhaps around the start of the 40s CE (i.e., not long after the “Anointed One” was “put to death”). 

For example, why the warning about being handed over to Jewish authorities in synagogues post-Temple — a parallel also present in Matthew?  Yes, the Jewish authority still existed in the diaspora, but their influence was severely reduced in the immediate wake of the War’s devastation. 

Why the talk of “nation rising against nation and kingdom against kingdom” in the aftermath of Rome destroying Jerusalem?  After CE 70, the wars were over.

Moreover, verses 14-18 don’t make a ton of sense if Jerusalem has already been destroyed:

“When you see the abomination that causes desolation standing where he does not belong—let the reader understand—then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains.  Let no one on the housetop go down or enter the house to take anything out.  Let no one in the field go back to get their cloak.  How dreadful it will be in those days for pregnant women and nursing mothers! Pray that this will not take place in winter[.]”

I realize some scholars have linked this “abomination that causes desolation” to sacrifices made within the Temple walls, according to Josephus, in August 70 after the Temple was burned.  But how does such a post-destruction abomination “cause” desolation?  This makes more sense as a reference to Caligula’s efforts to erect a statue to himself inside the Temple, circa 40 CE.  

I’m also not sure why Jesus’s prophecy would only to be instruct people to flee Judea for the mountains or to stay on housetops or remain in the fields.  Wouldn’t it make more sense if the prophecy was for people to flee when they first saw the armies?  And why tell people to remain on rooftops and in the field?  I know some scholars have thought that “fleeing to the mountains” was a reference to Christians fleeing to Pella in modern day Jordan, as described by Eusebius a few centuries later.  The obvious problem is that Pella isn’t in the mountains, particularly from the vantage point of one living in already-mountainous Judea.

Finally, are the zealot leaders, who began the Jewish revolt in CE 66, intended to be understood as the false messiahs referred to in Mark 13:6?  Is Mark telling early Christians, from the period following the failed Jewish revolt, to ignore those who led the revolt, for they were not the real messiahs?  This works as an explanation (particularly for a Jewish audience), but it has be remembered that there were zealots like Eleazar ben Simon well before CE 66, and the zealot movement in Galilee really exploded following Caligula statue episode — a far more direct analog to an “abomination that causes desolation,” than conducting pagan rituals on the site of the Temple which has already been destroyed.

For all those reasons, Mark 13, on its own, is not enough to persuade me that it’s a signal to a post-70 CE date.  But that’s not the end of the story, because the argument becomes far more convincing when you combine the Little Apocalypse with the exorcism at Gerasenes.

The exorcism of the demon(s) Legion in Mark 5, when augmented by the Little Apocalypse, presents the strongest evidence for a post-70 CE dating for Mark, IMHO.  Am I persuaded that the demon(s) “Legion” is/are a reference to Legio X Fretensis, which occupied Jerusalem after the war, used the boar as an emblem, and graffitied pig icons throughout Jerusalem as a sign of disrespect?  The evidence is strong, it’s simple, and it has tremendous explanatory power. 

It has been argued that Mark’s setting of the scene in Gerasenes (Matthew changes it to is to “the region of the Gadarenes”) is to be identified with the town of Gerasa, identified by Josphesus as the town where Roman legions commanded by Vespasian, while on their march to Jerusalem, slew all of the able-bodied men, burned all buildings to the down, and took captive the wives and children.  This would serve to tie the atrocities of Roman legions (even if not technically Legio X Fretensis) to atrocities in the area of Galilee.  Gerasa was said to be occupied by leaders of the Jewish revolt, figures Mark would have regarded as “false messiahs,” if Mark 13:6 is to be understood as a reference to the zealot leaders.

The problem is that the site of Gerasa would not be geographically associated with “Gerasenes,” “the region of the Gadarenes,” or the Sea of Galilee; it too far.  There is a “Garaba” (present day Arraba) within Galilee, which may have been sacked by Vespasian’s troops (Josephus refers to a town named “Arab”); but there is little reason to associate this town with “Gerasenes” or “the region of the Gadarenes.” 

And, there is a bigger problem with associating “Gerasenes” and “the region of the Gadarenes” with the false messiahs: these weren’t Jewish communities.  There were no zealots there.  These were gentile lands.  So placing this exorcism of presumed Roman soldiers during the period of the Jewish revolt in supposed strongholds of the false messiahs, when in fact the identified lands were occupied by gentiles, doesn’t square.

What’s more, there is the lingering question of whether the demon(s) “Legion” is meant as a reference to Roman legions at all.  The number of demons cast out of “Legion” — 2,000 — is less than half the size of an actual Roman legion.  And, the term “legion,” as used here, and during this period, was hardly confined to actual Roman soldiers.  The Hebrew Bible referred to “legions” of angels and “legions” of olives.  The word was apparently in common use as meaning “numerous.” 

This leaves us with the casting of the demon(s) into the swine — argued to be a reference to the boar sigil for Legio X Fretensis.  If true, this is the most one the nose reference to a post-70 CE dating.  The problem is that it’s not clear if the use of the boar by Legio X Fretensis was more ancient, or was adopted as an insult to the Jews and possibly used by other Roman legions in Judea and Galilee during the War.

So we are left with a bit of a chicken or the egg issue: Did Jesus in Mark 5 cast demons into pigs (when they drowned themselves in a sea, much like the Egyptians) because Jews believed pigs to be impure or because Legio X Fretensis used the sigil of a boar?

And is Jesus’s act of casting the 2,000 “Legion” into the sea meant to represent Jesus’s power to commandeer and defeat the powers of Rome? or merely to commandeer and defeat the powers of evil?  If it is meant as a reference to Roman power during the Jewish revolt, why set the story in Gentile lands?

One can see the problems are legion (pardon the pun) in connecting the demon(s) “Legion” to Legio X Fretensis in Jerusalem or to the legions of Vespasian marching through Galilee.  It’s perfectly reasonable to conclude that the exorcism of Legion is an older story, simply intended to demonstrate the power of Jesus (in his own name) over evil, that “Legion” simply means “many,” and the use of pigs is made because pigs were unclean, not because Legio X Fretensis used a boar sigil, possibly as an insult to Jews.

Taking a further step back leaves us with the question: do Mark 5, Mark 13 and the rest of Mark work just as well, even absent the recent destruction of the Temple?  Does it work just as well as more generalized apocalyptic prophecy, following on the likes of Daniel and Enoch, or eschatology (not actually End Times), harkening back to prophecies associated with Babylon?  Mark 13:30 indicates that “Mark” believed that Jesus’s second coming would be within a generation of his death and resurrection.  It’s unclear why this verse would make its way into Mark 13 if it was written post-70 CE.  Put simply, is Mark 13 generalized prophecy or is it specifically connected to the destruction of Jerusalem following the Jewish War?

One clue may be the audience for Mark.  There can be no doubt that Mark, though teeming with references to Second Temple Judaism, is unquestionably targeted at gentiles.  Would Mark include such contemporary references to the Jewish War and put them on the lips of Jesus?  He certainly could have; but it’s unclear what purpose this would serve.  It makes quite a bit of sense that the exorcism of Legion and the Little Apocalypse were older traditions associated with Jesus, which did not have nearly the contemporary connection with Rome or the Jewish War.

So where do I land on all this?

I’m sincerely torn down the middle.  What we find in Matthew and Luke makes more sense to me if Mark was written sometime between 59-66 CE.  But, associating Mark 5 and Mark 13 with the Jewish-Roman War, thus placing Mark after 70 CE, has simplicity and powerful explanatory power.  Perhaps, however, the explanations aren’t as powerful once we scratch the surface a bit.

I guess I’m going to stick with 59-66 CE as a guess, but would not be surprised at all to find that Mark was written in the 70 CEs.

Hngerhman said

vergari said
I do separate from some critical scholars in thinking that the author of Luke did know Paul.  I have never been persuaded by the alternate explanations for the we passages in Acts 16; to me, easily the simplest explanation is that Luke did know Paul, and traveled with him at certain points.

The marked clash with Paul’s own writings is what for me undercuts the familiarity hypothesis (and contributes to a later dating thesis as well). I’ve always found your views on the forum thoughtful, and would be very curious to hear how your view accounts for the divergences from what Paul himself tells us about his own timeline (not to mention the conceptual/theological differences). Many thanks in advance!  

Hi Hngerhman.

IMHO the contention of a “marked clash” between the views of Paul and “Luke” are a byproduct of textual criticism crossing into hyper-skepticism.  As I said in a post above, using this approach, one could easily find that James Madison didn’t really know Thomas Jefferson, because their views “diverged” so much.  One can imagine if Madison had written a posthumous (or near-posthumous) biography of Jefferson; would anyone seriously doubt that Madison’s portrayal of Jefferson would diverge substantially than Jefferson’s self-portrait from his own writings?

The similarities between what “Luke” tells us about Paul and what Paul says about himself in his consensus-authentic epistles far outstrips where they diverge. For example, both agree that Paul received a prestigious education in Jewish scholarship; both agree that Paul was an early persecutor of the Christian church; both depict a sudden and dramatic conversion experience to the teachings of Jesus; both agree that Paul continued to practice Judaism while on his missions preaching the message of Jesus; both agree that Paul supported himself on his missions through his own labors, and was often not supported by the church; both agree that Paul was appointed by church leaders in Jerusalem to bring the message of Jesus to the gentiles; both depict Paul as seeking first to convert Jews, and then, after that, gentiles; both agree that Paul was able to work within both Jewish and gentile communities; and both agree that the issue of bringing gentiles within the Christian community was highly controversial and required committee meetings in Jerusalem to resolve.

On the other hand, do the incongruities between Paul’s self-portrait and “Luke’s” portrait of him so stark?  The chief differences between the depiction of Paul in his own consensus-authentic letters, on the one hand, and in Acts, on the other, are: the epistles reflecting conflict between Paul and people in his communities (whereas Acts does not); Paul emphasizes faith justification in Romans and Galatians is completely absent from Paul’s words in Acts; and the depiction of the Jerusalem Council differs in Acts and Galatians. 

Each of these discrepancies has a rather simple explanation, which can be found throughout all non-fiction writing for millennia.  On Paul’s conflict with his community, “Luke” very well may have wished to portray Paul more heroically, and viewed focusing on this conflict as a distraction for the purpose of Acts.  On justification, “Luke” may simply have a different view writing when he did than when Paul wrote those epistles more than a decade earlier (at the very least).  On the varying depictions of the Jerusalem Council, that is hardly something unique when it comes to depictions of political events.  We see that on a near-daily basis.  At bottom, everything that Paul wrote and everything that “Luke” wrote had broader purposes on their own and unique political considerations.  It’s hardly a surprise that you will get two different portraits of the same man, depending on who is writing.

Stephen said

You seem to  assume that “Luke” was  an actual companion of Paul and that the narrative framework in Acts is pretty much accurate as depicted.    

That’s not an assumption. It’s an inference to the best explanation given the available data. Not only does “Luke” have a great deal of knowledge about the life of Paul — all the way through 60 CE — he also places himself into segments of Paul’s mission.  Could he be lying?  Sure, but circumstantial evidence — such as “Luke’s” gospel being accepted as scripture, despite his relative anonymity in the early church; the fact he only places himself in the narrative of Luke-Acts in one book and at the margins; and the amount of work that went into composing Luke-Acts — indicates this rather modest claim to companionship is more likely to be true than not.

Stephen said

But then you allow that  the  writer might have felt  free  to  amend  Paul’s  views to accommodate himself.     

I would argue that this happens with every writer in human history; indeed, it’s true of authors penning their own autobiography. Views evolve. Books are written for purposes which go beyond merely expressing a particular view of one individual at a particular time.

Stephen said

But if he  didn’t get Paul’s views  right what makes you think he  got  the details of the narrative  right? 

I’ve never argued, nor would I ever argue, that the narrative of Acts is entirely accurate.  I would argue that it provides a great deal of valuable information and that the gist of most stories very well may be historical. 

Stephen said

What makes you think he was a companion to Paul  if it’s not that he  was intimate with Paul’s views  and enthusiastic  about spreading  them?    

This is a straw man. One does not need to be intimate with every single view a particular person held at all times to have traveled and worked with that person.  Nor does it follow that if a person held a particular view at one time that the person’s biographer would never fail to reflect that view in writing on the person 15 to 25 years later.  That a writer does not voice a particular view of another person is not evidence that the writer does not know the person.

Stephen said

Why isn’t the simplest explanation  that the  author of  Luke/Acts was a gentile from a later  generation of believers who  knew  stories  about Paul but not his actual writings?   

So these are two different (non- mutually exclusive) arguments: first, that “Luke” was from a later generation; let’s table that for now; second, that “Luke” knew stories about Paul but not his actual writings.

Let’s tackle the second one first.  Put succinctly, your argument seems to be that “Luke” hadn’t read Paul’s epistles to the Roman and to the Galatians.  Well, let’s stop right there.  Let’s say he hadn’t.  Does that mean he wasn’t a sometimes companion of Paul?  Quite obviously … no.  Peter spent time with Paul, but there’s no reason to think he read the letter to the Galatians.  Same goes for James.  Whether someone has spent time with a person is separate from the question of whether they read his writings.

Beyond that, who is to say whether “Luke” did read the letters to the Roman and to the Galatians and/or otherwise did know Paul’s view as expressed in those documents, but did not feel the need to incorporate justification theology into the text of Acts.  It’s quite reasonable that “Luke” had his reasons in leaving it out of Acts.

There’s another implicit premise to the second argument which I don’t accept, to wit: that if “Luke” was a companion of Paul, he would not need to resort to “stories” from others about Paul.  I’ve never made the claim that “Luke’s” sole or even primary source for what he says about Paul in Acts is Paul himself.  There’s no need to make such an assumption.

…

Now, on to the first argument: “Luke” was a gentile from a later generation.  I do think it’s more likely than not “Luke” was a gentile; so we have common ground here.  As to “from a later generation,” I assume you are suggesting a generation beyond Paul’s life.  “Luke” places himself into the narrative of Acts corresponding to Paul’s third mission (c. CE 54-58) — a time within the last decade or so of Paul’s life.  For “Luke” to be a “later generation” (as you mean it), he’d have to be too young to be on that mission; in other words, born after CE 35.

It is possible “Luke” was born after CE 35, but the further one pushes back Luke-Acts, the further one runs into the problem of the pastorals, because (as I’ve argued elsewhere) it seems very likely the pastorals were composed with the knowledge of Luke-Acts.  If “Luke” was born in the 40s or even 50s CE, there needs to be enough time for him to compose Luke-Acts, for Luke-Acts to gain some level of acceptance in the early church, and for someone to compose the pastorals, and then credibly disseminate them as authentic letters from Paul.  For those reasons, I suspect “Luke” was born before 40 CE.

…

Having discussed your two arguments, I turn now to “the simplest explanation.”  I don’t think pushing “Luke’s” lifetime beyond that of Paul’s adds much (if anything) in terms of explanatory power.  Indeed, the further one pushes it back, the more problems arise.  And, I have already argued for why discrepancies in certain teachings can be easily explained, while maintaining that “Luke” knew Paul.

Against this, we have not merely the universal traditions of the early church — a tradition that must have pre-dated 2 Timothy — that a companion of Paul wrote Luke-Acts, but we have “Luke” placing himself into the narrative of Acts, and in an unremarkable way.  And, we have the title of the gospel, “Luke,” named for an otherwise obscure figure in early Christianity.

To me, the simplest explanation is that the author was a sometimes companion of Paul during his later missionary work, he collected stories about Paul from several sources, and his name was likely Loukas.

Hngerhman said

A bent towards skepticism is perhaps the case. It is often a methodological focus on divergences, however, that sets off one thing from another. But inversely, to your point, if we only focus on differences, then we may miss a bigger picture of coherence.

Very nicely stated!  By the way … I think I’m going to give feedback over several posts ….

Hngerhman said

 

My first question would be how to approach literary/historical methods that are inherently probabilistic in nature. If an approach or method were intended as strictly dispositive, then a single counterexample suffices to defeat said approach. However, if the methods or approaches (purport to) help adjudicate otherwise inscrutable ex ante probabilities of certain scenarios, then the probability of those producing a wrong result is, trivially: p(wrong) = 1 – p(right). Meaning that there will necessarily be examples that show it’s not perfect – and necessarily that’s the case when the probability of being right falls short of 100%. Set the dial too far in one direction, the method will squelch out too many underlying positives (false negatives). Set the dial too far the opposite direction, and it will admit too many underlying negatives (false positives). Knowing when the dial is properly set to optimize the results, now that’s the trick.

For the counterfactual: Is not the issue here precisely one where the historian already has background evidence that is decisive for Madison/Jefferson personal familiarity? If the background evidence weren’t already decisive that Madison knew Jefferson, might not the divergence in their written views warrant, epistemically/methodologically, a position whereby the historian withholds any affirmative judgment on whether they knew each other?  

The answer is … yes … or something close it.  Let me think this through.

Your suggesting a sort of agnosticism on reaching a judgment.  This makes some sense, and/but has to be weighed, as you say, in light of the totality of “background evidence.”

So, my counterfactual was created in response to the positive argument that, because Paul and “Luke” had divergent views, this was evidence of non-familiarity.  I think I demonstrated this to be logically false.

….. by the way, as a quick aside here, the same person who argued that “Luke” was not familiar with Paul has now simultaneously argued that “Mark” concocted Judas, the Empty Tomb and the women eyewitness from 1 Corinthians — making for the rather odd notion that “Mark” knew about Paul’s writings, but “Luke” did not ….

Back to the counterfactual ….. “If the background evidence weren’t already decisive that Madison knew Jefferson, might not the divergence in their written views warrant, epistemically/methodologically, a position whereby the historian withholds any affirmative judgment on whether they knew each other?”

So I guess the issue here is the term “decisive.”  You also used “dispositive” above.  We probably agree these terms are substantially synonymous.  The question, then, is: does the background evidence need to be decisive in order for a historian to get beyond agnosticism, or can a historian reach some level of conclusion with background evidence that is short “decisive.”

It’s an interesting question.  I guess my thought is that — since history, especially ancient history, is largely beyond our grasp — we shouldn’t be insisting upon “decisive” or “dispositive” evidence in order to reach conclusions — or, at least, in order to make arguments.  At some point, a “decisive evidence” standard renders the discipline of history impossible.

Hngerhman said  

 

Vergari said

On the other hand, do the incongruities between Paul’s self-portrait and “Luke’s” portrait of him so stark?  The chief differences between the depiction of Paul in his own consensus-authentic letters, on the one hand, and in Acts, on the other, are: the epistles reflecting conflict between Paul and people in his communities (whereas Acts does not); Paul emphasizes faith justification in Romans and Galatians is completely absent from Paul’s words in Acts; and the depiction of the Jerusalem Council differs in Acts and Galatians. 

Each of these discrepancies has a rather simple explanation, which can be found throughout all non-fiction writing for millennia.  On Paul’s conflict with his community, “Luke” very well may have wished to portray Paul more heroically, and viewed focusing on this conflict as a distraction for the purpose of Acts.  On justification, “Luke” may simply have a different view writing when he did than when Paul wrote those epistles more than a decade earlier (at the very least).  On the varying depictions of the Jerusalem Council, that is hardly something unique when it comes to depictions of political events.  We see that on a near-daily basis.  At bottom, everything that Paul wrote and everything that “Luke” wrote had broader purposes on their own and unique political considerations. 

The key incongruities for me, not being expert (which is why I often have to make peace that I must ride along at mostly the epistemological level), include the ones that Dr Ehrman lays out in Forgery & Counterforgery, which also treat the “we” passages (and have me currently convinced). I don’t know that I have much beyond that to contribute to the incongruities conversation, and I remain (or, at least think I remain) very open to a compelling argument for companionship (hence my piqued interest for your view and my appreciation for you sharing it).  

Yeah, I think Bart is just wrong here.

I really appreciate all the work Bart has done and his ability to present arguments to a lay audience …

but I have to say there are a few conclusions that Bart has espoused that so defy other historical texts and/or rational probabilities that it causes me to question his biases from time to time.

The big two are that the Gospel according to “Mark” that Papias wrote about was a completely different document than the “Mark” Gospel we have today … and that a crucified Jew in First Century Palestine would not have been buried after crucifixion.

On the former, it just absolutely defies math that there would have been two different documents from the First Century, both calling themselves gospels of Jesus Christ, both featuring the disciple Peter as the chief supporting character, and both bearing the non-Jewish titles “Markus.”  It just totally defies probability to the point of absurdity.

On the latter, we have direct evidence, not only from the testimony of Josephus, but from actual archaeological findings, that Jewish victims of crucifixion could be buried.  It’s just, frankly, ridiculous that one could still argue that Jesus could not have been buried.

Quick aside: what also sometimes gets my back up with Bart’s arguments has been his tendency to invoke ad hominem (effectively questioning motives) as a first line of argument in debating Christians.  I’ve also noted his frequent use of appeals to authority and efforts to redefine the scope of academic disciplines as a means of making positive arguments.

Anyway …. 

Bart’s take on the we passages is not as flagrant as his thoughts on Papias and the post-crucifixion burials, if only because they have broader implicit acceptance in mainstream scholarship.  And, by that, I don’t mean other scholars agree with his exact argument; only that scholarship is divided on the meaning of the passages.

Though, that’s actually the problem, because for essentially a century now, critical scholars have been doing mental gymnastics to somehow dispute the authenticity of the we passages.  Arguments have been variously made (i) that they are part of a different document, later inserted into Acts, (ii) that they are some sort of stylistic device relating to sea voyages, or now, by Bart, (iii) that the author inserted his companionship with Paul with deceptive intent.

I don’t have nearly enough time to go into this all, but let me just say, as to the first two theories, they have been thoroughly refuted.  It’s essentially impossible to “prove” that portions of a document were not inserted from another document; it requires proving a negative; but there simply is no indication that the we passages have been corrupted by an insertion from a separate text.  Similarly, the theory of the we passages as a literary device has essentially no evidence in the historic record, and ample evidence to the contrary.

Bart has obviously realized the inadequacies of these arguments; but — for what I would argue are philosophical reasons — he remains unwilling to accept the authenticity of the we passages, so he developed his “forgery” argument.

For myself, I have a hard time finding any support for Bart’s argument that is not entirely circular in nature, to wit: the author of Luke did not know Paul; therefore, his claim to have known Paul in the we passages is a deception.  Honestly, I think he came up with the argument entirely because he was already writing a book with the provocative title Forgery about other New Testament books, which were not written by the people they claimed to be (such as the pastorals, James, Peter, etc.), and he wanted to lump Acts into the group of “forgeries,” even though, as Bart loves to point out, Acts is internally anonymous, and, thus, by his own definition, cannot technically be called a forgery.

In any event, you’d be hard-pressed to find any biblical scholar who agrees with Bart on this, or at least is willing to defend Bart’s position.  Almost all of them who doubt “Luke” was a companion of Paul argue that the we passages were some type of literary device.

Hngerhman said

Vergari, thanks for the very insightful and in-depth feedback. The discussion is a fun one. I would like to come back to you piecemeal on a few of the points.

That said, against my own enthusiasm to engage thoroughly with each of your points as well as in deference to the fact that you are  already juggling multiple lines of inquiry in this thread, I would like to invite you to choose what (if anything) you’re interested in pursuing.

Just to take stock of the interesting topics I see in your above replies to me (not taking into account the active conversations with Stephen & Robert):

• • Evidence & Evidentiary standards
    • • Decisiveness as an appropriate criteria for judgment
    • • Evidentiary/argumentative thresholds for probabilistic conclusions
    • • Evidence for/against: univocal vs. multi/equivocal evidence
    • • Divergence/convergence as directional indicators of familiarity
    • • Categorical vs. probabilistic conclusions

• • Evidence for Lukan companionship
    • • Yes: Church tradition (broadly), “we” passages
    • • No: convergences between Acts & Paul

• • Acts & Luke – orthodox selection bias & thought experiment

• • Ehrman arguments
    • • Mark & Papias and “our” Mark
    • • Nonburial of Jesus
    • • Luke as Forgery
        • • Non-familiarity
        • • We passages as deception

———

As per Robert’s last post, there seems to be a groundswell of interest around you further expanding your treatment of Bart’s analysis of Acts/“we” passages.  

Happy to follow up on the we passages when I find the time.

I should also note that I was just listening to a Goodacre podcast where he discussed attempting to develop a chronology for Mark’s life based on the epistles and Acts.  One interesting thing he said is that he doesn’t think Acts is in chronological order, and that the Jerusalem Council is pushed too far forward.