Chapter 2: Pre-Christian History

Christianity in the History of Religion

Compared with the thousands of years in which human life has been on this planet, Christianity is a recent development. When contrasted with the much longer time that life has been present, the course of Christianity thus far is but a brief moment. Here are profound questions into which, if he is wise, the historian, as historian, does not enter. He simply notes them. If he is a Christian the historian must believe that God has always been active and has been pursuing His purpose of creating sons and not robots. In doing so, God must have been following the procedure which was eventually manifested in the incarnation. Paul declared that "when the time had fully come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons." He viewed the people of Israel and God’s covenant with them as a preparation for the incarnation, the cross, and the resurrection. But, when seen against the background of the entire record of mankind, the appearance of Israel was only slightly earlier than that of Christianity. Paul seems to have taken account of that fact where he says that what could be known about God was plain to men, because God had shown it to them. "For the invisible things of Him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are seen, namely, His eternal power and Godhead." Presumably God had always been seeking men, but without violating the degree of freedom of will which He had deliberately given them. As Paul is quoted as saying in his address to the students and scholars at Athens, God made of one blood all nations of men, that they should seek Him in the hope that they might feel after Him and find Him.

Certainly, so far as archeology has been able to trace the beginnings of culture, from the first, men have struggled to understand themselves and the world in which they live and have been aware, even if dimly, of a power or powers outside themselves which they have either revered or feared and have endeavored to find ways of propitiating and of bringing to their assistance.

In the history of religion which has engaged the interest of scholars, especially in the eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth centuries, thousands have sought to trace the inception and the development of religion and to describe the myriad forms which religion has taken, both earlier and in the contemporary scene. We need not here go extensively into that history. We must, however, note that what are usually called the high religions made their appearance within about twenty-five hundred years -- most of them within fifteen hundred years. The twenty-five centuries are roughly between 1800 B.C. and A.D. 700. These centuries saw the beginnings of Hinduism, Judaism, Greek philosophy, Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Christianity, and Islam. The fifteen hundred years from 850 B.C. to A.D. 650 spanned the birth of the last five and striking developments in the first three.

Basic Questions

Five questions emerge as this long history is faced. (1) What is the reason for this presence of religion as a continuing accompaniment of human history? (2) Is advance seen in the history of religion? (3) Which if any-of the high religions most nearly approaches the truth with which religion is concerned? (4) Is religion to continue, or is it a passing phase in mankind’s long pilgrimage? (5) If religion is to continue, what form or forms will it take? The historian as historian should not venture on definitive answers to any of these questions. His craft enables him to contribute data to some of them. Even he who approaches them as a Christian must recognize that full agreement is not found among those who share his faith. Indeed, on some issues profound disagreement has existed and still exists.

Possible Answers

As to the first question, many see in the presence of religion as a continuing feature of human experience the efforts of men to give meaning to the unknown of which they are more or less aware as impinging on them. Through religion, so this answer would have it, men have been seeking to promote their own welfare and the welfare of their group by propitiating such elements in the Unknown as seem to them hostile and by enlisting in their behalf potentially friendly elements. Others see in the varied forms of religion man’s search for the answers to the Unknown or partially Known which they believe or at least hope exists and in which is the solution of the riddle of their existence and of the world about them. They perceive in these answers gropings which at best result in only partial apprehension of the truth and suggest that progress towards the truth, if truth there be, is in sharing the insights emerging from these quests. Their attitude is akin to that of the scientists who probe through their respective disciplines into aspects of man’s environment, but with a difference: the scientists are confident that, if they are persistent and employ the right methods, they can enlarge man’s knowledge of what they believe is an orderly universe and open the dangerous possibility to the utilization of the universe by men. The possibility is dangerous because, as in nuclear power, men may employ their knowledge in such fashion that it will harm them and even destroy them. But the possibility is there, so they are assured, that through knowledge man’s welfare can be advanced.

Christians may give and indeed have given quite different answers to the question. On the one hand, some have said that aside from the development which issued in the incarnation all the groping is an expression of man’s sin. For example, Paul declared that although men knew God through what, it could be clearly seen, He had created, they "glorified Him not as God, neither were thankful, but became vain in their imaginations . . . professing themselves to be wise, they became as fools, and changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and fourfooted beasts, and creeping things." On the other hand, and in seeming contradiction to this position, Paul is quoted as having said that the search for God is of His appointment, and as declaring that God had made of one blood all nations of men and had allotted periods and the boundaries of their habitation, that they should seek Him in the hope of finding Him. Again, Paul is reported to have said that God is "not far from every one of us." Related to both views is the conviction that God has always been seeking to make Himself known to men but has respected man’s freedom. Man has responded by seeking God but, because of his sin, has reached distorted or completely false views. Christians agree that God did not cease His efforts, and among the people of Israel a few were sufficiently responsive to enable God through them to prepare the way for the incarnation and so reveal Himself fully to man and to act once and for all time for man’s redemption and salvation.

The answer to the second question, that of advance in man’s religious quest, must depend on the criteria which are judged valid for measuring advance. Unquestionably in the "higher" religions profound and at times sophisticated thought has been displayed; in it many sincere and deeply religious souls have been nourished and to it they have contributed. If dependable criteria are to be found in what Christians believe to be God’s act in the incarnation, the answer must be ambiguous. All religions, even the most "primitive," have elements which are in accord with the incarnation. But all display features, including fundamental features, which sharply contradict the incarnation and all that the incarnation entails.

In seeking an answer to the third question, many would say that all religions, especially the "high" ones, have striking likenesses. These are seen, so it is declared, in their ethical teachings. Numbers of those who take that view have advocated syncretism, a religion which would combine the insights of all and a joint search for the ultimate truth, if there be ultimate truth, and which would avail itself of all that man has thus far found in his age-long quest. This answer has appealed to many men of goodwill, particularly in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, especially to those in the Western world who have come out of a Christian heritage.

Any answer, if it be well informed, must recognize in each of the "high" religions basic convictions that are in fundamental contradiction to the essence of the Christian faith. Judaism, in which Christianity has its historic roots and to which it is deeply indebted, cannot accept what is at the very heart of the Christian faith, that in Jesus of Nazareth God became flesh and fulfilled the Jewish hope. The most that one of Jewish faith can do -- and some have gladly done it -- is to say that Jesus was the greatest in the long succession of Jewish prophets. None can acknowledge that Jesus was the Messiah without becoming a Christian. Islam, possessing much in apparent accord with Christianity, including a belief in one God and the ascription to God of many characteristics wholeheartedly accepted by the Christian, emphatically insists that God cannot have a son, and that the gulf between God and man cannot be bridged. Thus it denies the central conviction of Christianity, that in Christ, by His initiative, God has bridged the gulf to make Christ "the first born among many brethren." Or, as one early Christian, Athanasius, declared, "God became man that man might become God." Moreover, central in Islam is the conviction, embodied in its daily reiterated proclamation, that Mohammed is the prophet of God. Then, too, Mohammed taught that Christ was not crucified, thus denying another essential tenet of Christianity.

Zoroastrianism, while recognizing the conflict between good and evil discerned also by Christians, cannot admit, without being untrue to itself, that in Christ, God, Who is supreme, revealed His love, and that in the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection He triumphed over evil.

Hinduism’s basic tenet is that many roads exist by which men have pursued and still pursue their quest for the truth and that none has universal validity. In contrast, as the root and source of Christianity is the conviction that Christ is "the way, the truth, and the life" -- that in Christ God has revealed Himself and acted for man’s salvation in such fashion that no other revelation or act is needed.

Basic in the Buddha’s teaching and fundamental in Buddhism is the conviction that life is not worth living and is so inescapably linked with suffering that salvation consists in a self-discipline which ends in nirvana, the dissolution of the entity called I, and so in releasing the soul from the endless succession of births and rebirths which to the Buddha was axiomatic. Later forms of Buddhism modified this conviction, spoke of a heaven of happiness and postponed indefinitely the entrance to nirvana, but they could not negate nirvana without being false to the teaching of the founder. In contrast, Christianity, while acknowledging the presence of suffering, declares that life can be infinitely worth living and opens the way to eternal life in fellowship with God Who so loved the world that He gave Himself in Christ.

Confucianism stresses ethics, human relations, and the competence of reason, but its dominant attitude has made for agnosticism. Here is striking contrast to Christianity’s belief in God’s action in creation, in history, and in revelation and the incarnation.

Attempts at combining these various approaches have been many but have never had enduring vitality. Essays at syncretism which down-graded the uniqueness of the central core of Christianity --the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection -- and the work of the Holy Spirit, while numerous and recurring, either have been passing phenomena or have failed to enlist large numbers. Such were the Ebionism and the Gnosticism of which we are to say more in another chapter and, latterly, Unitarian humanism and the Brahmo Samaj.

The question of the persistence of religion entails prophecy. On this, if he is wise, the historian does not venture. He can simply point to trends. As we shall see in due course, the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have witnessed a growth of atheistic Communism and of a secularism which is less overtly hostile but is eroding the foundations of all religions. Yet they have also seen revivals in some of the non-Christian religions and a spread of Christianity in geographic extent and in depth of rootage unparalleled in its history or in the history of any other religion.

Similarly, so far as the historian can detect from the mounting trends in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, here lies the answer to the question of what form or forms, if it persists, religion will take. Zoroastrianism has long been dwindling, is confined to small remnants, and is making no gains. Judaism is making few converts, is ethnic as has always been the case, and is suffering from mounting secularism. Except in some portions of Africa south of the Sahara, for at least five centuries Islam has made no significant geographic gains. In the past two centuries Islam has given birth to few new movements. It owes its persistence partly to its association with nationalism, mainly, as at its outset, Arab ethnicism, but, as well, to other nationalisms and to cultural lag. Hinduism, while vigorous, has lost ground in lands in South-east Asia and Indonesia where it was once influential and is confined almost entirely to India. Buddhism has been waning for over a thousand years; such revivals as it is displaying are associated chiefly with Singhalese and Burman nationalism, and nationalism has been stimulated mainly by resistance to the Occident. The acids of modernity, represented strikingly in Communism, have so weakened Confucianism that only attenuated remnants survive. So far as can be discerned from the history of the past four centuries, the future of religion appears to depend primarily on Christianity. Here many declare the outcome to be ambiguous. On the one hand is the fading of that faith among millions whose ancestors professed it. On the other hand are striking evidences of vitality in the emergence of new movements and, as we have suggested, in geographic spread and in depth of rootage among more peoples than ever before.

The Pre-Christian Religion of Israel

Christianity emerged from the religion of Israel. Or rather, it has as its background a persistent strain in that religion. To that strain Christians have looked back, and rightly, as the preparation in history for their faith.

As we have suggested, only a minority among the people of Israel were loyal to the covenant which, they were taught God had made with Abraham and their ancestors. That minority treasured the writings in which were recorded the teachings of the law-givers, the visions of the prophets, regarded as the authentic spokesmen of God (and again, a minority of those who claimed the role of prophet), and the poetry and hymns that had arisen from their faith.

These writings, Christians have believed and continue to believe, foretold Christ and His work. The Psalms, the anthology of the hymns of Israel, are still used by Christians. Yet one of the early Christians declared that the prophets were inquiring and searching diligently into what the Spirit of Christ was seeking to make known through them: presumably they did not see it clearly nor understand it fully. One of the greatest of the prophets confessed that God was saying: "My thoughts are not your thoughts; neither are your ways my ways. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."

The prophets and the writers of the Psalms were clear that God was continuing to work in the universe and in all history. They declared that He had created the universe. They said that the heavens proclaimed His glory and that the earth is His. They perceived Him in the thunder storm. They saw Him making grass grow and giving the beasts and the birds their food. They praised Him for providing plentiful harvests. They saw His acts in making wars cease. They believed that He was interested in all nations, judged some, and called others to do His will. They regarded Him as reigning in all the earth. They held Him to be an enemy to injustice and to the oppression of the poor and humble by the rich and mighty. They were convinced that His compassion is over all that He has made. They held that His love is steadfast and that every individual can call on Him with the assurance that He will hear. They believed that He knows each man better than a man knows himself. They were conscious that their sin was against Him but that He would forgive if they repented and that He would heal their iniquities. They struggled with the problem of evil and suffering. Why is it that the righteous are afflicted? Why do men and women go astray? They wrestled in agony over the spectacle of a mighty, aggressive nation over-running the weak and the innocent. Yet they continued to trust in God when they could not understand. The prophets were well aware that only a minority would heed them and that the majority would hear but would not understand. But they were convinced that in His own way and His own time God would triumph.

The Global Scene on the Eve of The Coming of Christ

As we have said, Christ was born in the Roman Empire. Much in that empire facilitated the spread of religion and favored the triumph of one faith. Roman rule brought political unity to the lands bordering on the Mediterranean Sea. At the outset Rome was a city-state. The empire which it governed was made up chiefly of city-states and embraced some of the oldest of civilized peoples. It included the Nile Valley, Palestine, the western edge of the Tigris -- Euphrates Valley, what was later called Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy, all of them with civilizations hundreds of years old. Its rule made possible commerce throughout its domains. With commerce went an interchange of ideas and the possibility of a cultural unity. Greek was a kind of lingua franca, especially in the cities and among the educated. In the western part of the Empire Latin was coming into wide use.

Religiously the Empire was pluralistic and marked by a search for a faith which would be satisfying intellectually and ethically and would give assurance of immortality. Official cults continued from the days before the formation of the Empire. They were maintained partly because of their utility in preserving traditional ways of life and partly for the purpose of enlisting the support of the gods for the state and for the inherited civilization. To them was added the cult of the Emperor, chiefly as a means of promoting loyalty to the Empire. Philosophies of Greek origin attracted the intelligentsia and many, not among the educated, who sought answers to the riddle of life. Prominent among the philosophies were Platonism, Stoicism, and Epicureanism, and there were in addition the Peripatetics (carrying on the Aristotelean tradition), the Pythagoreans, and the Cynics. Neoplatonism would later seek to combine several of these systems. Common to many of them and to Greek thought was a dualism which regarded matter, including flesh, as evil and sought to emancipate the human soul from it and so to achieve immortality. Mystery religions were widespread and popular. They were largely of Eastern origin -- Egyptian, Syrian, Anatolian, and Persian. Since their rites were secret we know them very imperfectly. They borrowed extensively from one another, for the general temper of the age was syncretistic; in the search for truth the assumption was that no one religion or philosophy had all the truth but hopefully each had some of it. Every mystery religion centered in a savior-god who was supposed to have been slain by his enemies and to have risen from the dead. The adherents of each were believed to share symbolically in the death and resurrection of the god and thus to obtain immortality. Some of the mysteries were built around Dionysus, others about Orpheus, and still others about Attis and the Great Mother who had loved him, mourned his death, and effected his resurrection. Some had Adonis, some Osiris, and some Mithra as their center adherents but also created fellowships among those initiated into them. Akin to the mysteries was Hermeticism, which sought emancipation of the spirit from matter. Hermeticism was potent in Gnosticism, a religious strain which took many forms and which was greatly to influence Christianity and threaten it by absorbing it into a syncretism congenial to the age. Judaism was widespread and attracted many by its monotheism and its ethical idealism.

From our mention of the Roman Empire we must immediately go on to note that the Roman domains included only a fraction of civilized mankind and an even smaller proportion of the human race outside the "higher" cultures.

Directly to the east was the Persian Empire. Under the Arsacids, a Parthian dynasty, it embraced most of the Tigris-Euphrates Valley with its early seats of civilized mankind as well as what we now call Iran. In chronic wars it kept Rome out of Mesopotamia. Later, as we are to see, the Sassanian ruling line engaged in wars with Rome which brought both régimes to the edge of exhaustion and so prepared the way for the Arab invasion and the spread of Islam. Zoroastrianism was the official religion under both the Arsacids and the Sassanians and offered more resistance to a new religion than did the state cults of the Roman Empire.

East and south of Persia was India. Although never fully united under one political structure, India was the seat of ancient civilizations and culturally did not rank behind either the Mediterranean world or Persia. For many centuries Hinduism had been strong. Buddhism, older by about five centuries than Christianity, was flourishing and had not yet reached its apex. Jainism, another offshoot of Hinduism but with far fewer adherents, was also part of the Indian religious scene.

Still farther east was China. About the time that Rome was rising to prominence China was being brought under one ruling family, known in history as the Ch’in Dynasty. The Ch’in Dynasty was short-lived, but it was followed by the Han Dynasty, which with a brief interruption was in power from 206 B.C. to A.D. 214. Although exact statistics cannot be obtained, whether for the Roman Empire or for China, nor are acceptable criteria possible for measuring the relative worth of cultures, under the Han China occupied as many square miles of land territory as did Rome, its population was probably about the same as that of Rome, and its civilization compared favorably in many ways with that of the Mediterranean world. Presumably it was as wealthy as the latter. Under the Han Confucianism had the support of the state. Other religions were present, notably two of indigenous origin, Taoism and Mohism. By the end of the Han, Buddhism had been introduced, but it did not win an extensive following until later.

Of the four high civilizations -- Rome, Persia, India, and China --the first afforded the most opportunity for the spread of a new religion. Its state-supported cults could command less respect from men seeking the answers to the riddle of the universe and of human existence than could those of the others. The religious ferment seen in the Mediterranean world when Christ was born was probably no greater than that in the other three areas of high civilization, but the stories of the gods worshipped in the temples maintained by the government had to be allegorized if the thoughtful and morally sensitive were to believe them. Nor were they undergirded as effectively by philosophy as were the popular cults in the other three realms. As we shall see, Christianity did not win the professed allegiance of the Roman Empire without severe persecution, but conditions more nearly facilitated its spread than had it come to its birth in Persia, India, or China.

Although when Christianity appeared the total population of the planet was only a fraction of that of the twentieth century, most of the earth’s surface was quite outside the Mediterranean world, Persia, India, and China. Here, too, men had been groping for the knowledge of the unseen forces which they believed surrounded them and had sought ways of enlisting their support. As the event proved, their cults were less resistant to "high" religions, including Christianity, than were these religions to Christianity. But for several centuries Christianity had little contact with them.

This was the setting in which Christianity was born. It came at a time and in a region which was best prepared to receive it. But, seemingly weak as it was at the outset, it was threatened by the environment which was part of that region’s heritage. Again and again it was apparently about to be denatured and deprived of its very essence.

Here are questions to which the historian, even when he thinks of himself as a Christian, is aware that he does not have the answers. He may agree with Paul that "when the time had fully come, God sent forth His Son." He may see, as we have suggested, that by the long preparation through Israel and the religious hunger in the Roman Empire conditions were more favorable for the reception of the Gospel than they had ever been or than they were in any other segment of mankind. But he must ask: Why did God wait so long? Could He not, even when respecting man’s freedom of will, have earlier accomplished the incarnation? What was the fate of the millions who had died before the coming of Christ? If God’s love is from everlasting to everlasting, why did He permit these millions to live and die with only such glimpses of Him as could be obtained through the orderly processes of nature? Why did He witness the groping of men for the light -- the grace and truth brought in the incarnation -- without more clearly revealing Himself? We must recognize the sincerity of the founders of the "higher" religions and of many among the "lower" or "primitive" religions. We may believe that God was always seeking to reveal Himself to men, but because He had created man in His own likeness and so had given him a degree of freedom, limited but still authentic, He could not do so until He found in the succession of the prophets and seers of Israel men sufficiently responsive to Him to prepare the way for His act in the incarnation. But could He allow the millions who had died before the coming of Christ or who lived after that coming to pass through the gate of death into darkness without the opportunity to learn of His love? Here are questions with which Christians as well as critics have continued to wrestle. To us this side the gate of death and with no clear knowledge of what transpires in that "borne from which no traveler returns" the only honest reply can be that we do not know. The historian as historian has no answer. As a Christian he must believe that God’s love will not be defeated. But how and in what fashion God’s love will triumph he cannot know. He can simply trust, with the early Christians, that it is the purpose of God to sum up all things in Christ, both in heaven and on earth. In many radiant lives known to him who even now are bearing what Paul called the fruits of the Spirit, in thousands of whom he has read who across the centuries have displayed those fruits, and in the many millions who, passing, have left behind them no written records but presumably have also been characterized by these fruits, the historian sees the beginnings of the fulfillment of that purpose. Here is what the Christian regards as a guarantee or pledge of the realization of the final triumph of God through Christ, not only in history, but also in the entire cosmos.

Chapter 1: The Cosmic Setting as Presented in the Christian Scriptures

The Scriptures which Christians believe to be divinely inspired open with the affirmation "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth." This includes the entire cosmos -- of dimensions far more extensive than the writer could know and presumably larger than even present-day science reveals, breathtaking though that is. Here is the conviction that God was before the creation --"eternal," as Christians and Jews have declared. The opening chapters of the Scriptures state that as the apex of life on the planet God created man in His own image. This means that to man God gave a degree of free will. Freedom was conditioned by man’s physical body, heredity, and environment. But with all these limitations, it was real. That free will was demonstrated in the placing of temptation before man with the command not to eat of the fruit of the tree which would give him a knowledge of good and evil, with the disturbing moral conflict to which that awareness would give rise. The account also describes the fashion in which man, seeking in his pride to be equal with God, disobeyed the command.

From there the Scriptures go on to narrate how God sought to save man and bring him into that likeness to Himself for which he had been created. God was seeking to create sons and not robots --automata whose responses were pre-determined by the stimuli playing upon them. Always, in His effort, God respected man’s free will. By judgement He endeavored to restrain man and to bring him to repentance. He strove to bring that purpose to fruition by choosing Abraham with the promise, the Scriptures report, that in him should "all families of the earth be blessed." From Abraham sprang a people, so the story continues, through whom God willed to fulfill His purpose. Only once, and then briefly and in a small segment of the earth’s surface, did that people create an important state. Moreover, the vast majority of that people were chronically disloyal to the covenant God had made with them. In that covenant, as in His dealings with the first man, God gave to His "chosen people" sufficient freedom of will to obey or disobey and the overwhelming majority disobeyed. Only a very small minority, led by an even smaller minority in a distinctive succession, the prophets, through whom God was believed to speak, were sufficiently responsive to the impulse coming from God to discern His voice. To these prophets, as our records of their words show, response to that voice was accompanied by intense pain; they were only intermittently able clearly to discern what the voice was saying.

Eventually, from this seemingly unpromising preparation but in reality, as one of the early Christians declared, "when the time had fully come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman" and "born under the law" -- that is, among the people through whom God had sought to make preparation for that sovereign act. In sending His Son God purposed out of the unpromising human material to give birth to sons who would respond to His initiative and cry, "Abba, Father." True to His respect for the degree of man’s freedom of choice, limited but still authentic, God’s Son came in weakness, cradled in a manger because no inn would make room for the young mother in her hour. He grew to maturity in a small village. Then, after a few months, at best only three years, of a public career in which He was hailed by a crowd which proved fickle and had won the adherence of a coterie of men and women who did not fully understand Him, He ran afoul of the leaders of the organized religion of His people, was accused by them of fomenting rebellion against the civil government, that of Rome, and was crucified by the order of the local representative of that government. But, so the Scriptures narrate, the crucifixion was not the end. The body laid by sorrowing and hopeless hands in a tomb was raised from it and, triumphant, met with the disciples for forty days, "speaking of the Kingdom of God"-- His main theme in the brief period of His public career. Even then His disciples did not completely understand Him; they thought of the Kingdom in terms to which their earlier education had conditioned them, the restoration of that realm in which, centuries before, their ancestors had had a few decades of political prominence. Yet, they remembered, they had received the breath-taking command from Him to make disciples of all nations, baptizing them, and teaching them to observe all that He had commanded them. In other words which they recalled as having received from Him, even when they failed to grasp what He meant by the Kingdom of God, He had charged them to be His witnesses in all the earth. They reported that He had calmly assured them that "all authority" had been given to Him "in heaven and on earth," that they would receive power, and that He would be with them always, to the close of the age.

Very shortly, in fulfillment of that promise, so the Scriptures say, power did descend upon them. A little later, we are told, Jesus Himself appeared to one of their persecutors, Saul (Paul), won his allegiance, and from time to time continued to speak to him. Within less than a generation little groups of disciples appeared, not only in Judea and the eastern parts of the Mediterranean basin, but also at least as far west as the Bay of Naples and the city of Rome.

Within a generation, moreover, from several of the disciples who, admittedly, in the days of His flesh had never really understood Jesus and who at the crucifixion were frustrated and discouraged, came insights which, they believed, opened the cosmic significance of what they had seen and experienced. We need remind ourselves of only a few of the most startling insights recorded in the New Testament to give an indication of what a full survey would reveal. We are told that "in many and various ways God spoke of old . . . by the prophets, but in these last days He has spoken to us by a Son, Whom He appointed the heir of all things, through Whom also He created the world. He reflects the glory of God and bears the very stamp of His nature, upholding the universe by His power." Essentially the same is another passage: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. . . . The true light that enlightens every man was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, yet the world knew Him not. He came to His own home and His own people received Him not. But to all who received Him, who believed in His name, He gave power to become children of God. . . . The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. . . . No one has ever seen God; the only Son, Who is in the bosom of the Father, He has made Him known."

Here are astounding assertions, all the more so in view of the earlier disillusionment of the disciples. They declare that He Who on that first Good Friday seemed to be a discredited and frustrated dreamer had made known the incomprehensively great God Who created and infills all that universe which to men is immeasurably vast and of which they know only fragments. The more elaborated of the two assertions insists that the Word which became flesh was "full of grace and truth." By "truth" is meant at least that in the Word, become flesh in a man Who was born and lived in a particular time and in a cultural environment and religious heritage which He reflected, we are given an authentic and sufficient view of the nature and purpose of the universe and are enabled to call God "Father." Moreover, it says that of the essence of "truth" is "grace."

Again and again in the New Testament the changes are rung on "grace." "Grace" expresses the attitude which governs the dealings of the eternal God with man. Although man, using such freedom of will as he has been given, rebels against his Creator and aspires to arrogate to himself the power which characterizes his Creator, God seeks through His self-giving love, which man had forfeited and never had deserved or could deserve, to win him to Himself. "Herein is love not that we loved God but that He loved us, and sent His Son to be the expiation for our sins." "God shows His love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved." "Everlasting life" is described not merely as continued existence, for that could be an intolerable burden, but as knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ and "fellowship" with the Father and with His Son, Jesus Christ.

"Grace" is described as shown in ways which human prudence deems foolish. Thus the crucifixion appeared to the Jews to be weakness, for they had conceived of the establishment of God’s Kingdom, for which they hoped, by the kind of force employed by David, their king, to whom they looked back with reverence. To the Greeks, the intelligentsia of the Mediterranean world into which Jesus was born, who sought a solution to the riddle of existence through philosophy, the crucifixion was irrational. Yet Paul, the most prominent of the early Christian missionaries, declared the cross to be both the "power of God and the wisdom of God; because the foolishness of God is wiser than men and the weakness of God is stronger than men." In the concluding book the New Testament the risen and glorified Son of God, before Whose overpowering majestic presence the prophet fell down as dead, is described as saying to one of the early churches which, like many of its successors across the centuries, was self-contented, lukewarm, neither cold nor hot, that He stood at the door and knocked, not forcing it, but waiting for it to be unlocked, and promising, if those inside would open it, to come in, eating with them and they with Him.

We shall see, as we proceed with our narrative, that the way the Scriptures picture God as dealing with man characterizes the history of Christianity, not only in the preparation for the coming of His Son in the flesh and in the reception of His Son, but as well in the subsequent record of the religion named after the traditional designation of His Son. Through the long centuries in which God was seeking to prepare the way for the "incarnation" -- the coming in human flesh of Himself through the "Word," the self-expression of Himself in the creation of the cosmos -- He was seeking men who would willingly respond to "the light which lighteth every man" and slowly was finding some in the small minority of His "chosen people" who were struggling to understand what His Spirit, respecting their free will, was trying to say through them. Then, as might have been expected and as God clearly foresaw, when the Word became flesh the incarnation provoked man to his greatest crime, the crucifixion of the Son of God. But God was not defeated. The resurrection followed. Soon came a fresh outburst of the Spirit which empowered men and women, filled with amazed wonder and transformed by His love. These men and women were still imperfect, but one of the greatest of the early Christians was confident that "He Who began a good work" in them "would bring it to completion." Yet again and again the ecclesiastical institutions springing from the impulse given by Christ and professing loyalty to Him contradicted His Spirit in action. Fully as thought-provoking, as we are to see, has been the fact that some of the chronic evils which have plagued the human race have reached their most colossal dimensions through peoples which have borne the Christian name and have been longest under the influence of Christianity. Yet from men and women inspired by the Christian faith have come efforts, unprecedented and unequaled, to counter the evils, so that where "sin abounded, grace did much more abound."

Those calling themselves Christians, as well as others, have wrestled with the question of why this contradiction should exist, seemingly so strange, in a world in which the opening chapter of the Bible declares that after God had created it "everything" was "very good." Thus, in Paul’s words, the "whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now." As we see it on this planet, nature is red in tooth and claw. But, Paul also affirms, while "the creation was subjected to futility" that was "not of its own will but by the will of Him who subjected it in hope, because the creation . . . will be set free from its bondage to decay "into the glorious liberty of the children of God."

Repeatedly the writers of the New Testament insist that the contradiction is eventually to be overcome. Thus it is confidently said that the "mystery" of the will "of the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ" is "in the fullness of time" to "gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which are on earth." Similarly the sweeping assertion is made that in Christ "all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell," and that through Christ God purposed "to reconcile all things unto Himself, whether on earth or in heaven." We also read that God has given to Christ Jesus "a name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father."

In both the presence of evil and the eventual triumph over evil the sweep is cosmic. It embraces the entire universe, what to man is both seen and unseen. The victory is to be accomplished through Christ.

Precisely when and exactly through what process this consummation is to be reached the writers of Scripture do not specify in terms which the historian can pin down to exact details. However, they are agreed that it is to be a reality.

Obviously he who would attempt to write the history of Christianity cannot do more than recognize that from the standpoint of the Scriptures the story he essays to write has cosmic significance. The facts at his disposal are only the events on this planet, and this planet is a relatively tiny speck in a physically vast universe. The historian cannot know whether life in physical forms exists elsewhere or, if it exists, what its characteristics are. Nor can he wisely seek to penetrate that, to him, unseen world of spirits, good and bad, which the Scripture writers declare surround and condition man. Neither can he, as an historian, embrace in his narrative what has taken place beyond the physical death of the billions who have inhabited this planet. As a Christian he must believe that he lives in a universe. The natural scientists, he is aware, are confident that the forces which their instruments detect operate uniformly as far as they can glean information in the vast reaches into which they enable them to peer. Presumably, therefore, the God Who created and sustains the universe is everywhere the same. Always, so the New Testament declares, God is creative love. Everywhere His Word operates consistently in the manner in which the Christian believes He has acted and continues to act on this planet. But that the historian cannot prove. Nor can he hope to do more than narrate such fragments of the past on this globe as the records available to him enable him to discern.

Preface

Here is an attempt to tell in brief compass the history of Christianity. Christianity is usually called a religion. As a religion it has had a wider geographic spread and is more deeply rooted among more peoples than any other religion in the history of mankind. Both that spread and that rootage have been mounting in the past 150 years and especially in the present century. The history of Christianity, therefore, must be of concern to all who are interested in the record of man and particularly to all who seek to understand the contemporary human scene.

This book is deliberately called a history of Christianity rather than a history of the Church or Church history. These are the usual designations of accounts of the course of the Christian faith. They are focused on the ecclesiastical institutions which are called churches, or, collectively, the Church. Normally they include the story of the development of these institutions, of their reciprocal relations, of the movements associated with these institutions, of the forms of worship which have arisen in them, and of the intellectual formulations of the Christian faith. Both the original records and the studies of these records are prodigious. They have engaged the attention of thousands of scholars and continue to do so. Most of the resulting books and articles are confined to special aspects of the story. Others attempt to cover the story as a whole. Such approaches are legitimate and many of the works which have come out of them are notable and useful.

Here is a different approach. While seeking to utilize much of the vast output in what is generally called Church history, it addresses itself to the story from a more inclusive perspective. It is based upon the conviction that, if the Christian faith is true, the story must have basic significance for the entire course of life and especially of human life on this planet. The significance cannot be confined to this planet. It must embrace the universe, both the small fragments of it known to men and everything thus far beyond the range of human knowledge. It must take into account not only all the history of mankind in its multiform manifestations -- political, religious, economic, aesthetic, social, and intellectual -- but what to human beings, with their limited outlook and endowments, is the staggering and unimaginably vast cosmos in which they are set.

Such an attempt seems preposterous. How can any man, short-lived as all his race are, hope to compass even such information as is available to men? At most he can know only what has occurred on this planet, and the seventy or eighty years allotted to him are too brief to acquire and digest all that his fellows have accumulated across the centuries and are continuing to amass. He certainly cannot penetrate more than the merest fraction of what has happened and is happening outside the speck of matter he inhabits, a speck that is one of several other fragments moving around one of the several billion suns of a galaxy which is in turn merely one of billions of other galaxies, each with its millions or billions of suns. Moreover, man is dimly aware that his instruments can at best disclose only limited features of what he calls the physical aspects of the cosmos. Beyond these physical aspects and untouched by his instruments is what he regards as the world of the spirit, which impinges upon him in every moment of his life.

Preposterous though the undertaking may be, across the centuries daring souls have essayed it. A few of their efforts have commanded respect. Augustine’s City of God is one particularly famous. As we are to note in Chapter I, many of the writings embraced in the Christian Scriptures are cognizant of the issues and have an outlook which encompasses all time and the entire cosmos. However, most of the attempts at such a comprehensive survey of the record of mankind from a Christian perspective have been viewed by scholars as naïve and quite untenable. Even some Christians have declared that "salvation history" -- the record of God’s redemptive dealings with men -- cannot be rightly embraced in "world history," including the course of all human activity in its manifold expressions.

Daring though it undoubtedly is, here is an effort to suggest in wide scope what such a history should be. It is offered with an acute awareness of its inescapable limitations. It begins with the Christian view of the cosmos and of the course of life, par- ticularly human life, on this planet. It then goes on to sketch the background, so far as we now know it, of that life before the coming of Him from Whom Christianity takes its name. Next is a brief account of the earthly career of Him from Whom Christianity is historically sprung and of the distinctive features which must be borne in mind as we seek to give the story of Christianity. The major portion of the book will cover the main outlines of that story as the author conceives them.

The story will take account of what is generally included in Church history. But it will repeatedly seek to call attention to the wider setting of that history. The book embodies a profound conviction that the distinction between "salvation history" and "world history" is in contradiction to the central core of the Gospel -- the "Good News" -- from which Christianity has sprung and which is the source of its continuing vitality. The author recognizes, as will be obvious, that throughout history God has been seeking to save man, and that His effort has centered and been climaxed in "salvation history," as it is sometimes called. But he believes that God has been active in all history, and in ways not inconsistent with "salvation history," properly understood.

To this story the author brings a study of history pursued over a long life. In the course of his career he has sought through teaching and writing to acquaint himself with what are usually adjudged by scholars to be all phases and all eras of "world history." He has specialized on some aspects of it, notably that of East Asia. But both by interest and from professional duty he has ranged over the rest of pre-history and history. He has written extensively on the history of Christianity and has here taken advantage of what he has sought to put down in two multivolume and several single-volume works. Yet this is not a mere summary of these works. It is in some ways a fresh approach which has emerged from more than a half-century of research, writing, and meditation.

The author is frankly a Christian. No historian writes with pure objectivity. If he professes to do so he is dishonest or self-deceived. The author has not come easily by his Christian faith. He was reared as a Christian and in his youth made a conscious Christian commitment. Yet he has had to face the questions with which from the beginning that faith has been challenged and in addition has had to wrestle, often agonizingly, with questions which are peculiar to his day and are posed by the natural sciences, psychology, and the threats to the continued existence of the race. Originally trained in the natural sciences, he has endeavored to keep abreast of the major findings in some of them, chiefly geology and astronomy. He has spent most of his years in a great university where many of the questions which confront a Christian are brought to acute focus. He has also participated actively in much of life outside a university and has been immersed in some of the most potent currents of his day. He has tried to face honestly the facts of the history he seeks to narrate and not to dodge any of the challenges which they present to those who, like himself, dare to call themselves Christian. This book is not an apologetic -- an attempt to defend Christianity and to persuade his readers of the truth of what underlies that religion. It is, rather, an effort to put in brief compass the course of that religion, directing attention to the challenges it has met, the failures of many of its most loyal adherents to live up to "the high calling of God in Christ Jesus," as the New Testament calls it, and some of the achievements in seeking to make that calling a reality.

As the author is acutely aware, much that is germane to the story, from the Christian perspective, is not accessible to the historian. For example, the records with which the historian has to deal do not penetrate, except by faith, into that life to which, so the Christian believes, existence on this planet is but a prelude. The historian cannot even know some of the most significant features of the portion of the story which he seeks to narrate. Untold millions of Christians have left no continuing written traces of themselves or their work. Yet, as any one who has lived long in a particular community will gladly testify, what the New Testament calls "the fruits of the Spirit" have been vividly manifest in countless lives which have been rendered radiant and selfless by their Christian faith. The contributions of Christianity to some of the movements that are prominent in the narratives compiled by historians are not always easily detected and, when seen, are not readily given their proportionate credit. Yet these inescapable limitations must not be allowed to discourage the historian from entering upon the task here essayed. He must be cognizant of the limitations -- even though at times only dimly -- and not profess to more knowledge than is accessible to him. But because, as a believer, he is profoundly convinced of the central importance to all mankind of the record of Christianity, he must embark on what can at best be an incomplete and imperfect summary and interpretation of the history of the faith which has gripped him and on which he has sought to build his life.

 

Chapter 26: The Place of Apocalyptic in The Teaching of Jesus and of The Early Church

A recurring theme in the New Testament is the expectation of the imminent end of the present world age and of an approaching judgement, accompanied at times by a graphic and material depiction of the events that are to herald and accompany the end. The expectation was not fulfilled and many earnest Christians throughout the centuries have echoed the words of the ‘mockers’ in II Pet. 3:4 ‘Where is the promise of his coming ? for, from the day that the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation.’

It cannot be contested that the primitive church as a whole, and even the apostles, held firmly to a mistaken view of the nearness of the End. James’ message (5:8) that ‘the coming of the Lord is at hand’ is repeated by Peter (I Pet. 4:17) ‘The time is come for judgement to begin at the house of God’, and Paul tells both the Thessalonians (I Thess. 4:15-17) and the Corinthians (I Cor. 15: 51-52) that some of them will still be alive when the end comes. The teaching of I John (2:18) is that ‘it is the last hour’ and of Revelation (22:10) that ‘the time is at hand’.

The Teaching of Jesus

Even Jesus himself, according to the Synoptic Gospels, had taught during his early ministry of his early return in glory and in judgement. In Mark 8: 38-9:1 we read:

‘For whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of man also shall be ashamed of him, when he cometh in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.’ And he said unto them ‘Verily I say unto you, there be some here of them that stand by, which shall in no wise taste of death, till they see the kingdom of God come with power.’

Again, towards the close of the little apocalypse of Mark 13, with its detailed description of the signs of the end, Jesus says (13:30), ‘This generation shall not pass away, until all these things be accomplished’. When the high priest asks him at his trial if he is the Christ, Jesus replies (Mk. 14: 62),

‘I am: and ye shall see the Son of man sitting at the right hand of power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.’

These passages from Mark can be paralleled by others from Matthew e.g. 10:23 ‘Ye shall not have gone through the cities of Israel till the Son of man be come’, and from Luke, e.g. 22: 34-36. In the face of such evidence it must either be accepted that Jesus is rightly recorded in the Synoptic Gospels as having taught of his early return in glory and the accompanying judgement and that he was mistaken, or it must be shown that his teaching was from the earliest days misinterpreted and transformed. There are strong reasons for rejecting the former alternative, and accepting the challenge of the latter. A close study of the gospels shows that the dominant themes of Jesus’ teaching imply no such early end of the world, but are in fact inconsistent with it, and that the ‘apocalyptic’sayings bear many signs of editorial distortion both on the part of the final gospel authors and of the earlier traditions.

It is clear that the teaching of Jesus was eschatological in the sense that life is to be lived in expectation of the judgement and the coming of the kingdom, and his acceptance of the titles Son of man and Messiah implied a claim that the Kingdom of God had already come or was about to begin. All these terms, Son of man, Messiah, Kingdom of God, had for his hearers a connection with the apocalyptic expectation of the time, based largely on the teaching of a number of current apocalyptic books, such as the Books of Daniel and Enoch, and exemplified in the teaching of John the Baptist that one mightier than he was about to come,

‘Whose fan is his hand, throughly to cleanse his threshing-floor, and to gather the wheat into his garner; but the chaff he will burn up with unquenchable fire.’ (Lk. 3:17).

The general tenor of Jesus’ own teaching, however, indicates that he used these symbols, in interpretation of his own mission, in a sense quite different from that given to those of his contemporaries. This is brought out very well in the consistent picture of the teaching of Jesus given by the source Q. While, according to Q, Jesus claimed to be Son of God (Mt. 11:27, Lk.10:22) and to bring the Kingdom proclaimed beforehand by John (Mt. 9:27, Lk. 7:28), the Kingdom, whether thought of as present (e.g. Mt. 13, 31-33, Lk. 8:18-21, Mt. 23:13, Lk. 9:52) or as future (e.g. in the Lord’s Prayer) is primarily spiritual, although in the latter case Jesus seems sometimes to have used material and traditional metaphors, e.g. of a Messianic banquet (Mt. 8:11-12, Lk. 13:28-29). When he speaks of the coming of the Son of man, he emphasises its suddenness (Mt. 24:43-44, Lk. 12:39-40) and universality (Mt. 24:28,39, Lk.17:24,30), but refuses to name a place (Mt. 24:28 Lk. 17:37)or time Mt. 24:44, Lk. 12:40)for it.The general truth of the Q version of Jesus’ teaching is confirmed by a significant number of passages from other strata of the gospels,(E.g. for the spiritual conception of the kingdom Mk. 4:26-29, Mt. 5:3, 13:44-45, Lk. 17:20-21; for the suddenness of the coming of the Son of man Mk. 13:34-35; for the refusal to name a time Mk. 13:32-33.) and although there are many problems that admit of no certain solution, e.g. the difficulty of reconciling passages where the kingdom is spoken of as present with those where it is spoken of as future, there is at least sufficient evidence for reconstructing the main lines of Jesus’ authentic eschatological teaching.

When the passages in the gospels which give to Jesus a materially apocalyptic outlook are compared with these others, their secondary nature becomes apparent. In many cases the processes of alteration and distortion can be traced fairly easily, although in other cases we can only guess at the original context of the words or how they came to be put into Jesus’ mouth. In the passage already quoted from Mark 8: 38-9:1 we have two genuine sayings of Jesus, one of the judgement that will accompany his second coming, one of the coming of the kingdom with power in the lifetime of his hearers. The original meaning of the second of these sayings may have had reference to the coming of the Spirit (cf. the possible original meaning of the saying in Mk. 13:30) or, as some scholars think, to the Transfiguration which follows almost at once in the Marcan narrative; it is only the editorial juxtaposition of the two sayings, falsifying their original contexts, which turns the whole passage into a prophecy of the return of the Son of man within a generation.

‘The Little Apocalypse’ of Mark 13 illustrates the results of such editorial manipulation on a larger scale. There is no reason to doubt that many genuine sayings of Jesus are embedded in this chapter, and that they include a prophecy of the destruction of the Temple, prophecies of persecution, of false Christs, and of the suddenness of the return of the Son of man; but the genuine sayings of Jesus have been so transformed and robbed of their original contexts in the process of forming a long and confused series of prophecies of the End, many of whose elements are derived from other sources, that the final result is very different in spirit from the original teaching of Jesus. Lk. 21:34-36, with which Luke closes his parallel apocalyptic discourse, is so reminiscent in its vocabulary of Paul’s epistles as to suggest that here also words have been put into Jesus’ mouth that in fact represent the belief of early Christians. A similar explanation may account for Mt. 10: 23, though in this verse some scholars see a genuine word of Jesus whose original meaning had reference only to a proposed ‘follow up’ by Jesus of his disciples’ mission, and for the present form of Mk. 14:62.

The apocalyptic element in the teaching of Jesus, if such a view of the gospel evidence is accepted, is reduced to small proportions. He spoke of the end of the world and of a final judgement, but refused to name a time for them, and he at times employed in connection with the kingdom that will be at last established, metaphors of the Messianic banquet and of thrones of judgement (Mt. 19:28, Lk. 22:29-30). At the same time he spoke of the kingdom, already present and growing and being entered, in such a spiritual sense as to illuminate the dominant significance which he attached to these terms. He charged with a new spiritual significance the existing conceptions of Messiah and Son of man, of the end of the world, and of God’s Kingdom.

Why The Disciples Misunderstood The Teaching of Jesus

That his apostles, however, should have misunderstood Jesus’ teaching to the extent of expecting his return in their own generation is not surprising. It is clear from Mark’s account of the Confession of Peter at Caesarea Philippi that even in recognising Jesus’ Messiahship he misunderstood its true nature. When Jesus spoke of his forthcoming death, and Peter began to rebuke him (Mk. 8:32), it was because Peter, like James and John (Mk.10: 35-37) shared in the common belief that the Messiah would come once, and initiate the New Age which was to see God’s rule fully established. When one misunderstanding -- that the Messiah would not die -- had been removed, it was replaced by another, that his departure was only for a short while and that the establishment of the kingdom was to be on the lines expected by the apocalyptists. It is significant that Luke represents the apostles even after the resurrection as asking ‘Lord, dost thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel’? (Acts 1:7), and although the interpretation of the Kingdom of God as a present reality is not absent from the New Testament outside the gospels (e.g. Col.1:13), James (2:5) and the author of Hebrews (12:28) use the term only, and Paul (e.g. I Cor. 15:50, Gal. 5:21) mainly of the kingdom that was shortly to appear.

The Development of Apocalyptic Ideas

Two influences especially confirmed the early Christians in their error, their study of the Old Testament and the apocalyptic writings, and the rise of Christian prophecy. The use of scriptural proof texts necessarily involved references to ‘the last days’ (Joel 2:28, cited Acts 2:17) and the nearness of the judgement (Deut. 18:19, cited Acts 3:23), and to cosmic catastrophes connected with the end (Joel 3:30-31, cited Acts 2:19-20). The very confusions and inconsistencies of much of Christian apocalyptic reflect not only the differences between the teaching of Jesus and that of Jewish apocalyptic, but also the wide variations in the apocalyptic conceptions that existed within contemporary Judaism. While Jewish apocalypses are only rarely quoted directly in the New Testament (yet cf. Jude 14-15), the reading and interpretation of them, in the light of Jesus’ Messiahship, exercised a widespread influence in still further adapting Christian teaching on the End to current Jewish conceptions. To such an influence are due the introduction of the figure of Antichrist (I Jn. 2:18 cf. II Thess. 2:3-8), and probably of Daniel’s ‘abomination of desolation’ (Mk. 13:14), the accumulation of signs and portents before the end (Mk. 13, Mt. 24, Lk. 21) and some of the accompaniments of the end itself (e.g. the trump of I Thess. 4:16 and Mt. 24:31). The process of distortion was accelerated by the activity of Christian prophets. The gift of speaking ‘in the Spirit of God’ (I Cor. 12:3) was one which greatly enriched Christian life and was of great service for edification (I Cor. 14:4); at the same time, because of its recognised authority and its freedom of utterance, it was peculiarly fitted to spread in the Church a confusion of ideas about the coming End; the individual prophet, like the seer of the Book of Revelation, sometimes spoke from a mind charged at once with the teaching of Jesus and with confused memories of apocalyptic writings and utterances; his words, in turn, were received as authoritative and passed on.

Paul

Two examples will show the working of such influences in the New Testament. Paul, writing to the Thessalonians in A.D. 50, reminds them of the teaching he has given them about the End (I Thess. 5:2, II Thess. 2:5). In his first epistle (I Thess. 4:15-5:3) he refers explicitly to ‘the word of the Lord’ that the coming of the Lord will be in the lifetime of at least some of them, a clear indication that the misunderstanding of Jesus’ teaching goes back to those who had themselves heard him. He reminds them that they already know that the day of the Lord will come ‘as a thief in the night’ and that it will be accompanied by sudden destruction on those not expecting it; here his teaching echoes genuine sayings of Jesus. The end itself is pictured in terms drawn from Jewish apocalyptic; the Lord will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel (cf. The apocalypse of Moses 22), and with the trump of God (cf. 4 Ezra 6:23); those that are alive and the risen dead are to be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air (cf. Dan. 7:13-14), ‘and so shall we ever be with the Lord’.

In his second epistle (II Thess. 2:3-12) and unexpected coming of the end, which show not only the influence of old Jewish apocalyptic ideas, but also the development of new and perhaps specifically Christian ideas under the stress of contemporary events. The conception of the ‘man of sin’, who is to set himself forth as God to sit in the temple of God and finally to be destroyed by the breath of the Lord Jesus, owes much ultimately to Jewish apocalyptic, notably to Dan. 7, 8 and 11, but the Christians have adapted the conception to their own expectations and have developed a whole series of accompanying ideas, e.g. ‘he that restraineth’ (2:7). We can only guess at some of the reasons which led to this particular formulation of an apocalyptic scheme; the attitude of Christians to the policy of individual Roman emperors may well be counted among them, especially if those scholars are right who see in Caligula’s attempt in A.D. 40 to introduce his statue into the Temple an event which gave to Christian as well as other Jews a new and contemporary interpretation of Daniel 11:31.

The Abomination of Desolation

A similar mixture of apocalyptic elements drawn from different sources is to be found in ‘the little Apocalypse’ of Mk. 13. One of the sections of this apocalypse (14-20) deals with the sudden appearance of ‘the abomination of desolation’ (Dan. 11:31) and an accompanying tribulation in Judaea. In its present form this passage has been linked up rather awkwardly in a general series of events presaging the end of the world, but it may well once have been an independent oracle on the approaching doom of Jerusalem like that oracle which, Eusebius (H.E. III 5,3.) tells us, ‘was vouchsafed by way of revelation to approved men’ of the Church at Jerusalem before the Jewish war of A.D. 67, and which commanded them to depart from the city before the war, and to take up residence in Pella, a small town on the other side of the Jordan.

Jesus’ prophecy of the destruction of the temple implied that Jerusalem would also be destroyed, but the form of the Marcan oracle suggests that on the basis of this simple prediction was developed, in the light of Old Testament prophecy, and first-century prophetic experience, a much fuller and more ‘apocalyptic’ oracle. This in turn could eventually be put mistakenly but in good faith, into the mouth of Jesus, and its meaning further changed by being made significant for the approach of the end of the world.

The Millennium

The Book of Revelation must be read and understood in the light of two generations of such development, and of the special impetus given to apocalyptic by the actual fall of Jerusalem and destruction of the Temple in A.D. 70. That the same kinds of influence remained at work is shown by the continued popularity in some Christian circles of the Millenarian view of the Messianic kingdom. Some of the Jewish apocalypses current in the first century A.D. described a temporary reign of the Messiah on earth before the final judgement (4 Ezra 7: 28 ff., 2 Baruch 40:3). It is possible that Paul refers to such a view (in I Cor.15: 23-26), although there is no trace of it in the synoptic apocalypses, and in the Book of Revelation (20:1-10) there is explicit mention of a thousand-year reign of the saints with Christ on earth. A curious passage from Papias (c. A.D. 120) has been preserved in the writings of Irenaeus,(Adversus Haereses 5:33[A.D. 185]) in which it is said that the elders who saw John, the disciple of the Lord, recalled some of his words. John asserted that the Lord had taught about the times to come that the earth would be miraculously fertile, and that amongst other wonders

‘vines shall grow, each having 10,000 shoots, and on each shoot 10,000 branches, and on each branch again l0,000 twigs, and on each twig 10,000 clusters, and on each cluster 10,000 grapes, and each grape when pressed shall yield 25 measures of wine. . .’

It is clear from the fantastic nature of this description and from a comparison of this with a similar passage in Baruch 24 that Jesus is here mistakenly credited with teaching derived from Jewish apocalyptic sources. Fortunately the appearance and growing authority of the gospels, although they often seriously misrepresented the teaching of Jesus, prevented the further growth of such accretions.

The Fourth Gospel

Side by side with this interest in the apocalyptic interpretation -- and misinterpretation -- of Jesus’ teaching there seems to have persisted a truer and more spiritual comprehension of his words. For a time this understanding of the nature of the kingdom was in part accommodated to the apocalyptic conception, and in Paul’s teaching there is an unresolved inconsistency between his apocalyptic view of the coming kingdom and such passages as Romans 14:17.

For the kingdom of God is not eating and drinking, but righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.

It is noticeable, however, that in his epistles written after A.D. 55 Paul makes only fleeting allusions to the nearness of the End (e.g. Rom. 13:11-12), and his thought seems to have outgrown his earlier eschatological beliefs.

In the Johannine writings a stage is reached where the apocalyptic conception has largely, but not altogether disappeared and the spiritual aspect of the teaching of Jesus is once more dominant. While in his first epistle (2:18) John speaks of the coming of many antichrists as a sign that it is the last hour, and of the coming of the day of judgement (4:17) and there are vestigial traces in the gospel of Jesus’ prophecies of the destruction of the Temple (2: 19, 4:21) of his heavenly kingdom (13:36, 14:2-3), of his second coming (5:28-29, 21:22), and of the judgement of the last day (6: 39, 12:48), in the gospel at least these sayings are given a new significance. The kingdom is a spiritual one (18:36) and entrance into means the possession of eternal life that comes from belief (6: 47); for a future judgement and resurrection are in effect substituted the judgement that attaches to present disbelief (3:18) and the life that springs from present belief and will continue in spite of physical death (11:25). It is the supreme achievement of the author of the fourth gospel to have pierced through the confused and distorted tradition of the words of Jesus which was available to him to a truer understanding of the essential nature of the kingdom which Jesus proclaimed.

Chapter 25: The Revelation of John

Authorship

The author of the book gives his name as John (1:1,4). Tradition from the middle of the second century identified him with the apostle, although there is evidence that this tradition was disputed in the second half of the second century by Christians who found distasteful the teaching of the book on the thousand-year reign of Christ on earth before the final judgement (20:3-6). Criticism of the tradition was renewed in the third century by scholars who were conscious of the contrasts in style which separate this book from the Fourth Gospel, also traditionally attributed to the apostle.

The great majority of modern critics agree that the John who wrote the Revelation cannot also have written the gospel or the epistles. There are a number of curious verbal coincidences, e.g. the frequent occurrence of ‘witness’ and of ‘keeping the commandments’ of Christ or God, but these are probably due to the common Asian provenance of the books. Between the general thought, vocabulary, and style of the gospel and epistles on the one hand and those of the Revelation on the other, there is a wide gulf. In the Revelation God’s love is mentioned once (10:9), his fatherhood not at all, and the material imagery of the Revelation is in sharp contrast to the mysticism of the gospel. Many of the specially characteristic words of the gospel are absent from the Revelation, e.g. truth, or used in a different sense, e.g. light, only with a physical meaning; different Greek words are employed in the two books for ‘the Lamb’. The style of the Revelation is barbarous, and only consistent with a very imperfect knowledge of Greek grammar.

While such a poor knowledge of Greek is perhaps consistent with authorship by the apostle -- and we have seen that many scholars refuse to connect the gospel with the apostle John -- there is nothing in Revelation to indicate such authorship, and the statement in 21:14 that the twelve foundations of the wall of new Jerusalem had ‘on them twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb’ is hardly consistent with it. The writer shows no interest in the earthly life of Christ apart from his birth (12:1 ff.), his Davidic descent (5:5), and his death by crucifixion (1:7, 18, 11:8), but the very nature of his work leaves little place for mention of the earthly life of Christ.

Beyond his name, the fact that he was a prophet (22:6-7), the place of his vision (1:9), and his acquaintance with some of the Asian churches, the Revelation tells us little about its author. His knowledge of the Hebrew Old Testament and of Jewish apocalyptic thought suggests that he was a born Jew, and the Hebraic solecisms of his style that he was not brought up in the Asian dispersion which used the Greek language in its everyday life, but that he may have come there from Palestine. Of the attempts to identify the author more closely only one deserves serious attention. The historian Eusebius (c. A.D. 320) drew attention to the fact that an earlier Christian writer, Papias (c. A.D. 120), had given in his list of authorities two Johns, one the apostle and one ‘John the Elder’, and thought that the latter might have written the Revelation. There is much to be said for this view, though it can never be more than a conjecture. The little we know of him suggests that this John was a well-known figure in Asia, and the one passage in the surviving fragments of Papias’ work which is directly ascribed to a reminiscence of John the Elder puts into the mouth of Jesus a description of the miraculous fruits of the age to come in terms akin to those used in a first century Jewish apocalypse (cf. Chap. 26).

Date and Circumstances of Writing

Irenaeus (c. A.D. 185) speaks of the Revelation as seen ‘not long ago, but almost in our generation, at the end of Domitian’s reign (i.e. c. A.D. 95)’. There are grounds for believing that Irenaeus is here quoting from Papias, who himself knew the Revelation, and this date may well be correct. The church in Ephesus has had time to leave its first love (2:4), that in Laodicea to become lukewarm (3:16). Domitian seems to have been the first emperor to take emperor-worship seriously, and persecution of Christians seems to have become widespread, if sporadic, in his reign, although the evidence is scanty. Earlier dates have been suggested, but on insufficient grounds. A date in the last years of Nero’s reign (54-68) is ruled out by the references to the legend of Nero’s return (27:8-11), and the verses (11:1 ff.) which are sometimes claimed as indicating that the temple was still standing seem to draw their significance from Old Testament prophecy (especially Ez. 40) rather than from any contemporary historical situation. A date under Vespasian can be supported by a strict interpretation of 17:10, but such an interpretation is far from binding in an apocalypse.

How the book came to be written is explained in 1:1-3, 9-20. John received a command from Christ (18) when he was ‘in the Spirit on the Lord’s day’ to write what he saw in a book and to send it to the seven churches. It is permissible to speak of the occasion of the book as the need to exhort these churches, and to reassure them of the reward soon to come (1:1,3), but the impelling force that led to its writing is the consciousness of the Christian prophet that he has been commanded to proclaim his vision of the future (1:1, 4:1). How far the contents of the book correspond to the actual experiences of the ecstatic vision, and how far the author has sought to expand and interpret his vision, we have no means of learning. What is certain is that the form both of his vision and of his presentation of it show the great influence exerted upon his mind by his study of the Old Testament and Jewish apocalypses; there are continual echoes of Isaiah, Ezekiel, I Enoch, and, above all, of Daniel. The Revelation illustrates in a remarkable fashion the way in which early Christian prophets drew from Jewish literary sources the language and imagery with which they strove to express their own spiritual experiences and the meaning of the new and final revelation in Jesus Christ.

The letters to the seven churches (2-3) tell us a little about the situation of Christianity in Asia when the book was written. There is persecution from without; the imprisonment of some at Smyrna (2: 10-11) and the death of Antipas at Pergamum (2:13) seem to indicate the hostility of the authorities. The antagonism of the Jews is referred to in 2:9, 3:9. Internal troubles also are plaguing the churches, and we hear of false apostles at Ephesus (2:2) and of heresies there and elsewhere. We are not informed of what the Nicolaitans taught (2:6,15), but the teaching of Balaam (2:14-15) and Jezebel (2:20-21) involves fornication and idolatry. The churches are clearly in need of encouragement, and in some cases, of reproof.

The Message of The Book

There is no ‘teaching’ as such in the Revelation, and the word is used only of heresies, e.g. 2:15, 20. Even in the letters to the churches it is not teaching which is given, but commands from the Spirit, and the main purpose of the book as a whole is the revelation of the future. The plan of the book is simple, a prologue (1:1-8), the account of a vision of Christ (1:18) commanding John to write what he sees to the seven churches (1:19-20), special messages to each of the churches (2-3), the heavenly visions which comprise the main part of the book (4:1-22:5), and an epilogue (22:6-21). What makes the understanding of the author’s original meaning hard for the reader is the difficulty of divining a consistent and consecutive course of events from the series of visions narrated in the main body of the book. Thus the great day of God’s wrath upon the people of the earth is described at the end of chapter 6, and is followed immediately by the sealing of the elect and a description of their service before the throne of God; yet the armies of the kings of the earth are destroyed again, after a whole series of intervening disasters, in 19:21; even after the second death of all who were not found written in the book of life (20:15) there are still evildoers to be found outside the holy city (22:15).

Attempts have been made to explain this disorder of thought by supposing that the sheets of the original MS. have been accidentally transposed, that the original book has been clumsily redacted, that earlier literary sources have been incorporated by John into a framework inconsistent with them, or that the series of seals, trumpets, bowls, etc., are to be understood not as following one another but as different ways of presenting the same actions. None of the explanations have commanded general assent, however, although it is clear that John has a wide knowledge of earlier apocalyptic writings, and that some theory of recapitulation is necessary to produce a logical sequence of events in the book; the most probable solution of the confusion of the Revelation lies in the confusion of the writer’s own thought and his lack of concern about strict consistency. His mind was soaked in apocalyptic imagery drawn from various sources and not always mutually consistent, and he wrote, as he believed, under the direct guidance of the Spirit; the combination of these two influences enabled him to write passages of tremendous power and religious significance, but not to achieve a consistent whole.

The reader will find his way more easily through the maze of visions if he bears in mind the general scheme of eschatological expectation that underlies I and II Thessalonians, I Cor.15, and the apocalyptic chapters Mk.13, Lk.21, and Matt.24. The end is conceived of as coming in three stages, a period of catastrophe in the earth and heavens, the coming of Christ to destroy the power of evil, and the entering of the faithful into their reward. This simple pattern has been embroidered and developed by each writer in a number of ways. Paul, for example, writes of ‘the lawless one’, whose revelation is delayed by a restraining force, but whose final appearance will bring on the events of the End (II Thess. 2): the dead in Christ are to be raised at Christ’s coming and to join those who are left alive to be ever with the Lord (I Thess. 4); in I Cor.15:23-28 there appears even to be a reference to a temporary Messianic kingdom until the final conquest of death and Christ’s deliverance of his kingdom to God the Father.

In the Revelation the general scheme is not fundamentally different from that of Paul, but it has been so developed and overlaid with an abundance of apocalyptic detail and the repetition of events that the connecting thread is hard to follow.

For the history of the Church two sections of the book have had a special importance, the judgement on Rome (12-18) and the account in 20 of the Millennium, i.e. the thousand-year reign of Christ on earth (from the Latin mille = 1,000 annus = year).

John’s denunciation of the Roman power and her rulers is cast in symbolic language, but there can be no doubt that he regarded the Roman Empire as the instrument of Satan. Hatred of Rome had grown among the Jews with their subjection to Rome and with the failure of the Jewish revolt and the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in A.D. 70, but for a Christian of the age of Domitian it was the claim of the emperor to be worshipped that was the supreme offence against God (13:6-8). The interpretation of the great harlot as Rome (17:3,18) and of the seven heads of the scarlet beast on which she sits as Roman emperors (17:3,10) is certain. Unfortunately the interpretation of the book has too often proceeded from attempts to show the relevance of its symbols for each passing age, and the challenge of 13:18 to deduce the name of the beast has been answered with names as different as the Pope and Hitler.(The author was prevented from preaching in a prisoner of war camp in Germany in 1940 because this latter identification had been made in a previous address by a British sergeant-major.)

John’s account of the Millennium owes much, directly or indirectly, to the belief which can be traced in some Jewish apocalypses (cf. Chap. 11) that God’s Messiah will reign on earth for a period of time before the final judgement. The authority of the Revelation was in turn to persuade many Christians to accept ‘Chiliasm’ (Greek chilioi = 1,000), and the revulsion of other Christians against this material conception of religion delayed the recognition of the Revelation as canonical for centuries in the East.

The Value of The Revelation

The preceding paragraphs have inevitably concentrated upon the defects of the book, with its one-sided interpretation of the meaning of Christ’s message to men. The absence of the ideas of God’s fatherhood and love of men, and the comparative subordination of the moral and spiritual side of the Christian gospel to an apocalyptic often at variance with it, are serious failings. And yet, with all its imperfections, the Revelation remains the greatest of Christian prophecies because of its power to fire men’s imaginations in times of persecution and crisis with the majesty of God and the hope of glory to come. Its deficiencies are supplied by other books of the New Testament, and, when it is read and studied in conjunction with them, it more than bears out Paul’s promise (I Cor. 14:3) ‘he that prophesieth speaketh unto men edification, and comfort, and consolation’.

Chapter 24: The Study of The Revelation

No New Testament book is so difficult for the Christian of today to understand as the Revelation. Its fantastic imagery and lack of clear order are formidable obstacles to the grasp of its meaning. Yet as the only book of Christian prophecy which was accepted into the New Testament it has a special significance for the understanding of certain aspects of early Christian religion. It is only when the student has read the Revelation and comprehended the way in which a Christian prophet could cast his message into such a form that he can assess the influence of such a type of faith on the moulding of Christian tradition.

The apocalyptic passages in the gospels and the epistles raise fundamental questions as to the place which such teaching had in Jesus’ mind. Was the eschatological expectation of Jesus expressed in the crude material forms of contemporary Jewish apocalyptic, or do such passages in the gospels represent the distortion of his original message under the influence of Christian prophecy? How are the contradictions between apocalyptic and spiritual interpretations of the End in Paul and John to be resolved? To answer these questions a right understanding of the Revelation is essential.

Books for Reading

The best short introduction to the Revelation is perhaps E. F. Scott, The Book of Revelation (S.C.M.). Among larger works the recently published work of A. M. Farrer, The Re-birth of Images, makes difficult reading, but contains much that is helpful for the exegesis of the book. Of commentaries for the reader who knows no Greek those by M. Kiddle (Moffatt) and by A. Hanson and R. Preston (S.C.M.) may be mentioned.

For the study of the apocalyptic element in the New Testament as a whole, Burkitt, Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Oxford) and the larger work of Charles, Eschatology: Hebrew, Jewish and Christian (Black) are helpful, as are two recent books, H. A. Guy, New Testament Prophecy (Epworth Press) and T. F. Glasson, The Second Advent (Epworth Press).

Chapter 23: The Teaching of The Church

Apostolicity and Development

Christian doctrine and practice both rest upon the belief that the Word of God is to be found in the New Testament. When Christians differ, as they do, on important questions of doctrine or conduct, e.g. on the significance of baptism or on the issues of wealth and pacificism, their differences go back to different interpretations of New Testament texts or to different evaluations of parts of the New Testament.

As far as Christian conduct is concerned the questions that arise are for the most part connected with the interpretation of the words of Jesus: sufficient of his teaching has been preserved in the gospels to serve today, as it served in New Testament times, for a complete guide to conduct, in the sense that the principles laid down by Jesus need only application to our particular circumstances. Occasional difficulties arise as to which gospel texts represent what Jesus actually said, and the ethical teaching of the rest of the New Testament is often of great value for illustrating the way in which Jesus’ words were understood in the earliest Church and for furnishing examples of their application to the needs of the first converts. The development of Jesus’ moral teaching, however, in the New Testament Church is not of such a kind as to raise many fundamental problems for the Christians of today.

In the case of Christian doctrine the case is different. Whereas Jesus’ teaching on conduct was openly given and dealt largely with subjects which concerned men’s everyday life, the keeping of the Law, marriage, and the use of property, his teaching about the significance of his life, death, and resurrection was for the most part in private and often in veiled terms; much of it was strange and new and was very imperfectly understood when it was given. It is, moreover, extremely difficult to decide how much of Jesus’ teaching about himself that is recorded in the gospels is authentic and how much is the later invention of pious Christian tradition (cf. Chap. 11) Finally Jesus’ teaching about himself was incomplete; the significance of his work could only be understood afterwards in the light of the experience of the Holy Spirit which the disciples were to have at Pentecost and afterwards. The saying in the gospel of John

But the Comforter, even the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said unto you (Jn.16:26)

may not, as it stands, be an actual word of Jesus, but the truth which it expresses is a real one.

A few Christian scholars have felt the task of establishing what Jesus taught about himself to be so impossible of achievement that they have sought to transfer the authority on which Christian faith should rest from Jesus to the Apostolic Church’s experience of the risen Christ. This is a desperate remedy, for the apostles were not perfect men, as some Christians at least may still ‘salva conscientia’ maintain Jesus to have been both perfect man and Son of God. There is the further difficulty that ‘Apostolic Christianity’ needs further definition than it has sometimes received. It is clear that a process of expansion went on as the apostles themselves grow older and the Christian message had to be made intelligible to men of widely differing religious backgrounds; the epistles of the New Testament give us only the personal expression of their faith by a handful of individuals, only one of them a member of the Twelve, at particular moments in their lives. There is, it is true, a unified pattern of theology that underlies most of them (the epistles of James and Jude are important exceptions) which has been given a particular personal development in each case, but the differences are considerable, and raise the important question of the authority that is to be attached to each personal theological interpretation. To assess the relative value of such interpretations demands in turn a knowledge of the main steps in the progress of New Testament doctrine.

The Christian Life

Although the epistles rarely appeal to the words of Jesus to support their teaching on conduct (yet cf. I Cor. 7:10, 9:14) the memory of what Jesus had said was from the first the formative force that shaped the pattern of this teaching. The influence of the words of Jesus on the epistle of James has already been noted and the preservation in the gospels of so great an element of teaching matter affords proof of the value set on it by the Church. There can be no doubt that the retelling of Jesus’ sayings played an important part in the instruction of converts, and that the circulation of such handbooks as Q (Chap. 6) reflects the importance which was attached to the words of him who was now acknowledged as Christ and Lord.

On the other hand, Jesus had not attempted to lay down a code that would cover every part of men’s conduct. He had shown what were the great principles that were to be applied by men to their lives, and had only illustrated by occasional parables and sayings the motives which should govern men’s actions. To the leaders of the Church fell the task of initiating believers in the implications of these principles for everyday life. They started with the great advantage that for all Jews the Law provided a magnificent code of conduct, which Jesus himself had seen needed only to be interpreted with the right motives and in its deepest sense. The power of the Spirit in the earliest Christian community showed itself at once in a spontaneous sharing of goods and in the creation of an atmosphere of joyful goodwill (Acts 2:45-47). The practical problems that inevitably arose seem at first to have been dealt with by the guidance which the community received from the Spirit and not by the application of any rigid set of rules (Acts 4: 29-35). Yet the growth of a specifically Christian ‘code’ was perhaps inevitable, to guide the convert as to what were the fruits of the Spirit by which he could recognise his own progress.

When Gentiles began to be admitted into the Church the need for such guidance became urgent. Brought up for the most part with very defective ideas of morality, they had to be instructed in the essential ethical parts of the Law before they could understand the Christian interpretation of these commandments. It is probable that the Christians adopted a method of instructing converts and catechising them at their baptism from the similar methods which the Jews seem to have employed at this time for receiving proselytes. The content of such instruction may well have varied in individual cases, but a study of the epistles reveals a certain agreement in the general pattern of ethical teaching which may reflect the existence of a common form of catechism. A feature of this teaching is the apparent influence of Jewish models, and the comparative absence of material drawn direct from Jesus’ words. Yet the teaching of Jesus himself, as can be seem from the epistles, continued to dominate the moral demands of Christian missionaries to Gentiles, and to give a new meaning to the lists of virtues and vices that they drew up (Gal. 5:17-24, Eph.4:2, 4:14-17, I Pet. 3:8-9).

As the Church continued to grow the problem of order within the Church became more serious. Cases of unworthy living (e g.I Cor. 5:1 ff.,Jude 16) and of heresy (e.g. I Tim. 4:1-3, II Jn.7) increased, and the tension between the need for discipline and the love enjoined by Jesus became at times extreme. The adoption of rules and regulations tended to increase (e.g. I Tim. passim) and the spirit of Jesus’ teaching was sometimes only partially remembered, as in the Revelation (cf. Chap. 25). Yet Christian experience of the Spirit, and the constant reminder of Jesus’ teaching at hand in the stable tradition of the words which he had used, preserved for future generations the essentials of what had been the teaching of the apostles without serious change.

Christian Doctrine

The appearance of Jesus after his resurrection and the manifestation of the Spirit at Pentecost gave to the apostles a new understanding of the meaning of Jesus’ life and death. In the light of their experiences they recalled the words of Jesus which they had found so hard to comprehend during his ministry and which they now saw to have been confirmed by what had happened. When they began in turn to spread their faith and to proclaim the significance of what had happened, their interpretation was along the lines which Jesus had himself laid down in his own explanations of the purpose of his coming. Yet their preaching about Jesus was no mere continuation of Jesus’ own preaching about himself: they considerably expanded what Jesus had taught them and in thus developing his message they unconsciously incorporated some elements which sprang from their own expectation and not from Jesus’ own teaching.

The available evidence for determining the nature of the earliest apostolic preaching is not great. Besides the early epistle of James (Chap. 16.) and Luke’s record of the speeches of Peter (Chap. 12.) there are the epistle to which Peter gave his ‘imprimatur ‘in later life (Chap. 16) and the traces in Paul’s epistles of primitive beliefs which he had received from the Church (e.g. I Cor. 9:23 ff., 15:3 ff., and possibly Rom. 1:1-4, 8: 31-34, Phil. 2:6-11) (Chap. 12.); it is also permissible to draw conclusions from the epistles, not only of Paul, as to the earlier preaching which they presuppose, and to attribute certain features of the gospels, especially Mark, to the influence of early Christian preaching upon the tradition of Jesus’ words and acts.

Such evidence can only be used with caution, but some features of the early Christian preaching stand out which can fairly claim to be apostolic. There is first of all a remarkable ‘variety in unity’: thus different titles are applied to Jesus, who is ‘the Servant of God’ (Acts 3:13), the Holy and Righteous One (Acts 3:14), ‘the Prince of Life’ (Acts 3:15) in Peter’s earliest speeches as well as ‘Lord and Christ’ (Acts 2:36), and is ‘Son of Man’ and ‘Lord Jesus’ (Acts 7:56, 59) to Stephen, and ‘Son of God’ (Acts 9:20) to Paul. There is nothing surprising in this, for Christians agreed in finding that Jesus was the fulfillment of ‘all that the prophets have spoken’ (Lk. 24:25), and such a united belief inevitably found expression in all sorts of different ways. Yet this use of the Old Testament was not without its dangers for men whose minds were steeped in current interpretations of its prophecies. It seems probable, for example, that the prominence of apocalyptic imagery in even the earliest teaching of the Church was due far more to conceptions of the Messianic Kingdom and the Judgement derived from contemporary expectations than to the restrained and spiritual teaching of Jesus himself. (This subject is discussed in more detail in Chap. 26).

The core of the earliest Christian kerygma (cf. Chap. 5) consisted in the proclamation that Jesus had by his life, resurrection, exaltation, and pouring forth of the spirit been proved to be from God (Acts 2:22, 30-36), that he would return in judgement (Acts 10:42), and that salvation was offered to those who repented and received baptism in His name (Acts 2:38). Proclamation involved also explanation and Christians had to show HOW these things were so, and to relate these simple tenets of faith to the existing beliefs first of Jews, and then, in course of time, of Gentiles also.

The speeches of Acts and the epistles of the New Testament are largely directed to this task of working out a theology intelligible as well as challenging to men with Jewish and Gentile backgrounds. The development of Christian thought was gradual and followed many different paths: the Pauline epistles are sufficient indication of the way in which even an experienced Christian missionary could vary his intellectual interpretation of his faith over a mere dozen years. All that is attempted here is to indicate very summarily a few of the needs which compelled a development of Christian doctrine and some of the changes of emphasis in Christian preaching which resulted.

The great majority of the Jews looked forward to God’s intervention in history, perhaps through an intermediary, as they expected also the pouring forth of the Spirit, and they accepted the need for repentance; they were, however, convinced that the Law, and the Temple were permanent elements in God’s revelation, and that God’s acceptance of the Gentiles could only be through bringing them under the Law. The Christians, in presenting the good news to their fellow Jews, therefore made great use of the arguments drawn from Old Testament prophecy (e.g. Acts 2:25-31, 3:22-26) and were enabled to employ many of the already existing conceptions of e.g. the Messiah, the Judgement, in support of their views.

The preaching of Stephen, however, marked a decisive development in Christian thought. The majority of Jewish Christians had held to their observance of the Law and the Temple worship as bound up with repentance, and they continued after Stephen’s time to follow this practice. Stephen seems to have represented a section within the Church whose interpretation of the nature of repentance had led them to see that neither the full Law nor the Temple were essential (Acts 4:14, 8:48 ff.). The precise connection of Stephen’s teaching with the admission of large numbers of Gentiles into the Church at Antioch that followed is uncertain (Acts 9:19 ff.), but henceforth the Church was faced with the double task of explaining its faith to Gentiles who had a very different background from the Jews and the Christian missionaries themselves, and of justifying its action to the Jews.

The first of these tasks involved the working out of a complete theology. The Gentiles needed instruction as to the nature of God and the relation of Jesus to God, the place of the Spirit in the scheme of salvation and what was implied by salvation, how Jesus had won salvation for men, and what were the purposes of Baptism and the Eucharist. Some of these themes must already have been dwelt on in the Christian mission to the Jews, but the new situation called for the transformation of the gospel into a comprehensive system of belief that took into account the Gentile lack of understanding of what was self-evident for Jews.

The working out of such a system was the work of generations, and as men’s beliefs about the world have changed, some of the work has had to be done over again. But within a comparatively few years the foundations of Christian theology had been well and truly laid. The nature of God and man, the relation of Christ and the Spirit to God the Father, the meaning of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, the nature of the Church and the meaning of Sacraments -- the classical Christian doctrines still follow the lines laid down in the epistles of Paul and John, I Peter, the epistles to the Ephesians and to the Hebrews, and all these epistles were written within the span of half a century. The question of the relationship of these epistles to each other is an intricate one which can never finally be solved. They share certain basic presuppositions and yet often follow different lines of argument, e.g. the interpretations of the meaning of Christ’s death given by Paul and by the author of the epistle to the Hebrews (Chap.18). The Pauline epistles are the earliest, and the influence of Paul’s thought appears to be present in a greater or less degree in the other epistles, but Paul himself owes much --how much we cannot tell -- to his predecessors and fellow-workers in the Church.

One aspect of Paul’s theology among many that are of special importance for the development of later Christian thought may be noted here. Paul makes a real attempt to justify to Jews the Christian mission to the Gentiles: his arguments (Rom. 9-11) presuppose the present rejection by God of his ancient people for their ultimate salvation, but they are connected with Paul’s claim that the Christians and not the Jewish nation are the true heirs of the promise to Abraham (Rom. 4:13-25). Paul’s efforts to convert the Jews to his point of view were seldom successful (e.g. Acts 28:23 ff.), but his stress on the Christian Church being the true Israel of God (Gal.6:16) and his annexation of the Old Testament as belonging to Christians were of tremendous importance for the future of Christianity. A time was to come when the cleavage between Christians and Jews was absolute (cf. the presentation of ‘the Jews’ in John 8:13, 2:8, and Revel.2:9), but the Christians were still to maintain that the Old Testament was their book and that they were its true inheritors (Heb. 1:1-2, 11:1 ff.).

This acceptance of the authority of the Old Testament, which was shared by Jesus himself (Chap. 11), although often open to criticism as eclectic in its choice and interpretation of texts, preserved the Church in later New Testament times from the complete subjugation of its theology by its Gentile environment. This danger was a very real one. The rites of Baptism and the Eucharist, for example, had parallels in the popular religions of the time, especially in the initiation rites and sacred meals of the Mystery-Religions. We read of the practice of such rites in the first century A.D. in Greece, and some of Paul’s Corinthian converts may have witnessed them and have attributed to them a similar significance to that of Christian sacraments; Paul rejects such rites as diabolical (I Cor.10:21), and draws out the meaning of the Christian rites from Old Testament ‘examples’ (I Cor. 10:1-7). The Colossians again seem to have known a heresy which sought to incorporate Christ as one of many instruments of God’s redemption of man (Col. 2:8 ff.), and Paul’s refutation of this heresy is solidly based on Old Testament conceptions as fulfilled in Christ (Col. 2:8-15).

On the other hand the influence of Hellenism upon the form of Christian doctrine was very considerable even in New Testament times; to a great extent this was due to the Hellenistic background of many of the Christian missionaries who, Jews themselves, had grown up in the Jewish ‘dispersion’, where Judaism had often undergone considerable superficial modification to make it attractive to Gentile converts. In Alexandria, for example, many elements of Greek thought had been adopted by such Jews as Philo (ob. c. A.D. 42) in their theological expositions, and the prologue of John, with its setting forth of Jesus as the preexistent Word (Greek, Logos) of God, stands in such a Hellenistic Jewish tradition. Another influence which was to be of great importance in later times, but which is not much in evidence in the New Testament books, written as they were for the most part by Jews, was the unconscious effect of Greek ideas upon Christians who came from educated Gentile circles, to whom the Old Testament was a sacred book but had never been a complete basis of religion in itself. Whatever authority we may give to the particular developments of Christian doctrine that are set forth in the epistles, it cannot be denied that the underlying unity of New Testament doctrine rests upon the firm memory of what the Jesus of history had done and taught and the fruitfulness with which Jesus’ attitude to the Old Testament was followed in essentials by the early Church.

Chapter 22: The Johannine Epistles

Authorship

The connection of the first epistle of John with the Fourth Gospel in thought and language is so close as to make it certain that they are by the same author or that the epistle was written, probably with a knowledge of the gospel, by a disciple of the author of the gospel. It is difficult to weigh the admitted similarities against the differences that also exist, e.g. the absence in the epistle of any Old Testament quotations and of a large number of words typical of the evangelists, and the more primitive tone of the teaching of the epistle on the nearness of the End, the Atonement, and the Spirit; yet the claim of the author of the epistle to pass on what he has seen and heard (1:3), with its similarity to Jn. 1:14, tells in favour of the identity of authorship, and is perhaps sufficient to tilt the balance in favour of this view.

Early in the second century Papias of Hierapolis is known to have used the first epistle, and Polycarp of Smyrna shows knowledge of the teaching of the first epistle and possibly of the second epistle as well, so that all three can be assumed to have been written in or near Ephesus before the end of the first century.

That II and III John are by the same hand as I John is generally admitted on grounds of style and language. From this it may be deduced that the author is ‘the Elder’ (II Jn.1, 3 Jn.1), though it will be seen from the discussion on the author of the Revelation, who was certainly not the same man, that there are obstacles to assuming that the Elder’s name was John. The reasons for the growth of this tradition are discussed in the treatment of the gospel (Chap. 10 above).

The Epistles in Detail

I John

Circumstances of Writing

There is nothing in the ‘epistle’to suggest that it was written as a letter, except for the ‘I write unto you’ of 2:1, 12, 13; it lacks both the name of its author and any greetings at the end, and may well have been written originally as a treatise or sermon. The purpose of the epistle, although the sequence of thought is often obscure, is clearly to build up the faith of a community well-known to the author in view of the activities of heretics (4:1-5) whose appearance is a sign that the last hour has come (2:18).

These heretics had separated themselves from the Church (2:19), and denied ‘that Jesus is the Christ’ (2:22). They spoke in the spirit, but the spirit of the antichrist, and did not confess that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh (4:1-3). From these references it is clear that the heresy which is attacked is the Docetic one, which denied the reality of the Incarnation by refusing to admit that the divine Christ could in any true sense ‘come in the flesh’, suffer, or die. The Docetic heretics conceived of Christ as appearing in human shape, but neither being born nor dying, and their doctrines, which fitted the Gnostic conception of redemption better than the historic facts of Jesus’ life on earth, had a wide vogue in the second century, especially in Asia Minor, where Ignatius denounced them c. A.D. 110.

The Teaching of The Epistle

Against such teaching the writer of the epistle sets forth the true Gnosis, or knowledge of divine things (2:3), which comes from keeping God’s commandments, in particular ‘that we should believe in the name of His Son Jesus Christ, and love one another’ (3:23).

While the language of the epistle is continually reminiscent of the Fourth Gospel, e.g. in the antithesis of light and darkness, life and death, the believers and the world, some aspects of the teaching in the epistle find little or no confirmation in the gospel. Thus Christ is twice spoken of as ‘the expiation for our sins’ (2:2, 4:10. This translation adopted in the American Standard Revised Version, is better than ‘the propitiation’ of the Revised and Authorised Versions), and there are references to the coming of antichrists as a sign that it is the last hour (2:18), as well as to the day of judgement (4: 17 cf Jm 5:28-29). These differences between the teaching of the epistle and that of the gospel have been taken by some critics to indicate difference of authorship (see above), but they may well represent concessions on the part of the Elder to the beliefs of the community. We know from Revelation and from other writings that were probably in circulation in Asia at the close of the first century that the eschatological beliefs of many Christians were still similar to those taught by Paul to the Thessalonians and the Fourth Gospel itself at times puts teaching of such a kind into the mouth of Jesus.

In writing to his ‘little children’ (5: 21), therefore, the Elder may have felt it necessary to make use of terms and ideas which he had himself outgrown, and which were sometimes inconsistent with the general ‘Johannine ‘tenor of his teaching as a whole.

The Second Epistle Of John

This short note is written to ‘the elect lady and her children, whom I love in truth’ (1) to establish them in their faith and prepare them for a visit from the Elder (12). The ‘lady’ is almost certainly a church (cf. I Pet. 5:13), and the greetings from ‘the children of thine elect sister’ (13). It contains a warning against Docetists (7), and gives a strict warning against giving hospitality or even greeting to anyone who holds heretical views (9-11).

There are a number of striking parallels between the language of II John and that of the Fourth Gospel, e.g. in the references to truth in I and II, which add an appreciable argument in favour of the identity of authorship.

The Third Epistle of John

Although we do not know anything about Gaius, the individual to whom this letter is addressed, the letter as a whole is of great importance. The Elder complains that he has written a previous letter to the Church, but that ‘Diotrephes, who loveth to have the pre-eminence among them, receiveth us not’ (9). The previous letter seems to have been brought by brethren of the Elder’s own community, who acted as missionaries and relied for their support and lodging on the hospitality of Christians (7), Diotrephes had refused to allow members of the Church over which he presided to entertain them, and had expelled Gaius from the community for receiving them (6, 10). The Elder now sends a letter by the same brethren, asking Gaius to ‘set them forward on their journey worthily of God ‘(5-6), and commending especially one of their number, Demetrius (12). He threatens himself to come and expose Diotrephes shortly (10, 14)

The significant feature of the epistle is that a churchleader, against whom the Elder makes no charge of heresy, could defy the authority of the Elder and reject his letter. While the reasons for this may have lain, as the Elder states, in the vanity of Diotrephes, the success of his repudiation of the Elder’s authority suggests that the Elder can hardly have been one of the original apostles, and that his authority was comparatively limited outside his own community. If the Elder was indeed the author of the fourth gospel (cf. Chap.10 above) the importance of this is clear.

 

Chapter 21: The Second Epistle of Peter

The Epistle Not By Peter

The epistle claims to be a second epistle (3:1) written by Simon Peter ‘a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ’ (1:1) and an eyewitness of his majesty at the Transfiguration (1:16-18). The arguments against the acceptance of such an ascription are, however, overwhelming. In the first place there is no clear evidence of the use of the epistle before the third century A.D. Origen, Eusebius, and Jerome all refer to doubts as to its genuineness, and it gained its place in the Canon only slowly and with difficulty. The internal evidence confirms these doubts. Although the author knew I Peter and borrowed some of its vocabulary, the style of the second epistle is very different from that of the first; the author seems also to have incorporated virtually the whole of the epistle of Jude in his work (cf. chap.20), and refers to Paul’s epistles as already collected and widely known (3:16). It is hard to avoid the conclusion that this epistle is yet another of a series of works which appeared in the second century falsely claiming the authority of the prince of apostles, of which we possess fragments of a Gospel of Peter, of an Acts of Peter, and of an Apocalypse of Peter.

The Teaching of The Epistle

This impression is borne out both by the type of teaching given and errors attached. There is an almost complete absence of appeal to the example of the life of Jesus Christ, the redemption through his suffering, the power of his resurrection, and the work of the Spirit, which furnished the first generation of Christian missionaries with primary authority, and all of which are referred to in the first epistle of Peter. The authority to which the author of this epistle appeals above all is that of the prophets and apostles (1:19-21,3:2), and the vehicle of this authority is largely the Old Testament and apostolic writings (3:16 cf. the use of Jude and I Peter). In giving his main message, that the day of the Lord will surely come, deferred though it has been through God’s wish that all should come to repentance (3:9-10), the writer adapts earlier Christian teaching to the conceptions of a later time. Thus he lays a particular stress on attaining to the knowledge of God and of Jesus Christ as the means of living a godly life and entering the Kingdom (1:2-3, 2:18, 3:18), and he introduces the idea of a final dissolution of the elements in fire (3:7, 10) which does not occur elsewhere in the New Testament.

A large part of the epistle is taken up with the denunciation of false teachers, and it is perhaps significant for the date of the epistle that the author in the role of Peter first proclaims that they will arise (2:10 ff.). While much of what is said is borrowed from the epistle of Jude, there are important differences. The denunciations of Jude are primarily against unworthy Christians whose lives are a denial of Christ (verse 4), while in this epistle the condemnation is of false teachers (2:1), who not only live evil lives, but deny the coming of the End (3:4). It would be too much to say that this is a conclusive proof of a second century date, when Gnostic heresies often combined false doctrine and immoral practice, but it is at least compatible with a time when such heresies were rife. It is impossible to give a precise date or location to the epistle. That it was composed not earlier than the close of the first century A.D. is clear from its references to I Peter and the Pauline epistles and from the curious passage where the author speaks of ‘the day that the fathers fell asleep’ (3:4), an apparent allusion to the passing of the first generation of Christians. A date somewhere in the first half of the second-century is perhaps as near as we can safely guess. There is some evidence to suggest that the epistle was for a time associated with the Apocalypse of Peter in some circles in the early Church, and this, like the use of I Peter, would favour an origin in Asia Minor.

Chapter 20: The Epistle of Jude

Authorship

The epistle claims to be written by Judas ‘a servant of Jesus Christ, and brother of James’. The only pair of brothers James and Judas known to us from the New Testament are the brethren of Jesus (Mk. 6:3) and there is no reason for doubting that this Jude is intended. A story of Hegesippus (c. A.D. I80) tells of the arraignment before Domitian of two grandsons of Jude, who worked a small farm, and after their release ‘ruled the churches, as being both martyrs and of the Lord’s family’ (Eus. H.E. III 20). While Jude does not seem to have succeeded James as head of the Church in Jerusalem, he seems to have held a leading place in the early Church, as a brother of the Lord, and to have been supported by the Christian community (I Cor. 9:5). There would accordingly be nothing strange in his writing an epistle of warning against those who were corrupting the Church.

Two main arguments have been advanced against Jude’s authorship, the difficulty of reconciling the conception of ‘the faith’ which was once and for all delivered unto the saints (3) and the reference in 17 to ‘the words which have been spoken before by the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ’ with authorship by a brother of Jesus, and the type of error attacked. If, however, a period late in Jude’s lifetime be assumed, both these arguments lose much of their force. In the conception of ‘the faith’ as something established from the beginning Gal. 1:23 and Eph.4:5 offer instructive parallels, and a general reference to words spoken before by the apostles could well look back on the early days when the apostles as a body shared a common teaching in and around Jerusalem without implying that they were now all dead. The type of error attacked -- an antinomian rejection of authority, coupled with immorality, heresy, and insincere respect of persons -- has been compared with some justice to the type of error especially condemned by Paul in I Corinthians, and could be expected to arise in any Christian community after the first flush of enthusiasm had passed.

The similarities between Jude and II Peter are so striking (compare especially Jude 1-19 with II Pet. 2:1-18, 3:1-2) that there must be a literary relationship between the two epistles. Besides the improbability of an author making up such a short epistle from a part only of II Peter, there is an added reason for supposing the priority of Jude in the fact that occasionally the meaning of the author of II Peter can only properly be understood from a reading of the parallel passage in Jude (compare II Pet.2: 10-11 with Jude 9). Moreover there are signs that, unlike II Peter, Jude from a very early period enjoyed a wide circulation. It was probably known to the author of ‘The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles’, which may be as early as the end of the first century A.D., and by the beginning of the third century it was included in the list of accepted books at Rome given by the Muratorian Canon, quoted by Tertullian in Africa, and commented upon by Clement of Alexandria. In view of the shortness of the epistle this widespread use and acceptance as authoritative is remarkable, although there seems also to have been a certain hesitation in later times to accept it, possibly because of its references to apocryphal books.

The Teaching of The Epistle

The clear evidence afforded by the epistle of Jude’s knowledge of Enoch,(Apart from the loose quotation in 14 from Enoch 1, 9, Chase has collected an instructive series of parallels in Hastings’ Dictionary of the Bible.) and his use of the story of Michael’s dispute with the devil over the body of Moses (9), which was probably narrated in another apocryphal book, throw an interesting light on influences at work on early Palestinian Christianity. Occasional traces of such influence in passages in the Gospels, in II Thessalonians, and above all in the Book of Revelation (cf. chap. 25) suggest that from the very earliest days the literature of Jewish Apocalyptic exerted a considerable influence upon Christian teaching, and the epistle of Jude gives us a valuable glimpse at the ways in which such influence affected the presentation of the Christian gospel.

Jude’s own message is simple. While preparing a letter on ‘our common salvation’ (3) he was constrained -- perhaps as the result of receiving some special news about the situation in a community or communities unknown to us -- to write instead against the growth of troublesome and heretical errors. The weight of the epistle lies in its authorship. Jude writes as one whose authority is unquestioned, and as one who can himself remember and vouch for the original content of the gospel, departure from which is fatal. A particular situation is envisaged, but, while we can safely assume that the epistle was written from somewhere in Palestine between A.D. 60 and A.D. 80, we have no means of knowing to whom Jude was writing.