‘It occurred to me recently that a lot of what is happening in Matthew might be seen as a kind of  ”orthodox redaction” of Mark, an attempt to fix some of the potentially troubling ideas and implications in Mark. … Matthew’s orthodox redaction of Mark was so successful that we now find ourselves reading Mark through Matthew’s — and also Luke’s — eyes.  His skill as a redactor with “orthodox” beliefs was that he rescued Mark from the potential to have been read and interpreted quite differently.’

James McGrath has also chimed in on this issue, stirring the pot a bit. There are a couple of pericopae that I would like to make some observations about that suggest that Matthew was an (unnecessarily) nervous redactor with a theological agenda.

First, Mark 6.5 states: καὶ οὐκ ἐδύνατο ἐκεῖ ποιῆσαι οὐδεμίαν δύναμιν, εἰ μὴ ὀλίγοις ἀρρώστοις ἐπιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας ἐθεράπευσεν. Matthew used Mark but changed his words to the following: καὶ οὐκ ἐποίησεν ἐκεῖ δυνάμεις πολλὰς διὰ τὴν ἀπιστίαν αὐτῶν. Matthew apparently wanted to avoid saying that Jesus was not able to heal, so he said that Jesus did not heal. However, this should hardly be classified as an orthodox redaction, as Mark understood that Jesus could and did heal on this occasion (εἰ μὴ ὀλίγοις ἀρρώστοις ἐπιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας ἐθεράπευσεν). Origin, handling both these texts together, reads them as follows:

And Matthew and Mark, wishing to set forth the excellency of the divine power, that it has power even in unbelief, but not so great power as it has in the faith of those who are being benefited, seem to me to have said with accuracy, not that He did not “any” mighty works because of their unbelief, but that He did not “many” there. And Mark also does not say, that He could not do any mighty work there, and stop at that point, but added, “Save that He laid His hands upon a few sick folk and healed them,” the power in Him thus overcoming the unbelief. (ANF 9:426)

This particular redaction should not be classified as orthodox, as though Mark’s understanding of Jesus was unorthodox and Matthew’s orthodox. Both recognized Jesus ability to heal even the face of unbelief, albeit perhaps in differing ways. Yet it does seem that this redaction tells us something: perhaps Matthew had a more acute focus upon christology and were sensitive to and nervous about differing christologies. Mark doesn’t have ultimate have a widely divergent view of Jesus’ ability to heal than Matthew: both ultimately agree that Jesus did at least a few miracles in his faithless hometown. It is just that Matthew appears to be more cautious in the way he relates the narrative and more nervous about christological controversy.

Compare also the dialogue in Mark 10.18–19: Καὶ ἐκπορευομένου αὐτοῦ εἰς ὁδὸν προσδραμὼν εἷς καὶ γονυπετήσας αὐτὸν ἐπηρώτα αὐτόν· διδάσκαλε ἀγαθέ, τί ποιήσω ἵνα ζωὴν αἰώνιον κληρονομήσω; ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· τί με λέγεις ἀγαθόν; οὐδεὶς ἀγαθὸς εἰ μὴ εἷς ὁ θεός. Matthew redacts this pericope in Mark in a number of ways. First, ‘Good teacher, what must I do …’ (διδάσκαλε ἀγαθέ, τί ποιήσω) in Mark becomes ‘Teacher, what good thing must I do …’ (διδάσκαλε, τί ἀγαθὸν ποιήσω) in Matthew. Second, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good except one—God’ (τί με λέγεις ἀγαθόν; οὐδεὶς ἀγαθὸς εἰ μὴ εἷς ὁ θεός) becomes ‘Why do you ask me about the good? The good is one [person]‘ (τί με ἐρωτᾷς περὶ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ; εἷς ἐστιν ὁ ἀγαθός) in Matthew. It is clear that Matthew saw Mark’s words as likely to be misunderstood and redacted them in slightly different direction. However, this phrase εἰ μὴ εἷς ὁ θεός appeared earlier in Mark in 2.7 (τί οὗτος οὕτως λαλεῖ; βλασφημεῖ· τίς δύναται ἀφιέναι ἁμαρτίας εἰ μὴ εἷς ὁ θεός). In this passage, this phrase is placed on the lips of the scribes expressing confusion over Jesus (at the least) acting and speaking unilaterally as God’s representative. Further, the rich man in Mark will later drop the word ‘good’ and simply refer to Jesus as διδάσκαλε (10.20). While this might argue that the one God who is good is not Jesus, this is not necessarily so since this rich man is clearly being characterized in a strongly negative manner in the Markan pericope. Hence, the christology of this passage is unclear: it might portray Jesus in contradistinction to the one good God and it might not (other pericopae are, I think, much clearer; cf. Mark 6.45–52). It is difficult to tell. This would suggest that depicting a clear christology is not one of Mark’s goal in this pericope. But it sure would appear to be in Matthew. He nervously redacts the adumbrated Markan christology into a less ambiguous direction.

I think all of this can be taken as indicative of the Sitz im Leben behind both Gospels. Mark seems to be playing a bit more fast and loose with his christological presentation than Matthew. Perhaps this is because the Matthean Sitz im Leben was more concerned with christological controversy than Mark and Mark’s Sitz im Leben was more concerned with other topics. Perhaps one could posit a christological sensitivity or even controversy afoot behind Matthew’s Gospel. Yet this nervous concern does not seem to shared by Mark. Mark has other concerns. I would argue he has other more sociological concerns, which Matthew also redacted. But this is for another post … or more.

I am translating through 2 Corinthians for a class and I was struck by how confusing this must have sounded to the average adherent to Judaism in Paul’s day. I mean, to say that the time promised by Isaiah in Is 49.8 is now being realized—and realized among these fledgling group of house churches!—surely sounded ludicrous to say the least. The promised time of the renewed creation and people of God, according to Paul, was already happening in and through an executed Jewish peasant and a rag-tag group of bickering folks throughout the ancient Mediterranean world. It is easy to forget how bizarre this must have sounded to the ‘real world’ of Paul’s day.

This may sound like minutia but is in fact of great importance to Sanders.

Here’s how his logic runs: The new age has come and far surpasses the old evil age. Salvation in this new age is only in Christ. Since salvation is only in Christ, all other perceived modes of salvation are wrong. Thus, what is wrong with the law is not effort itself, but that the law is not Christ.

Here are a few of the many texts Sanders discusses in favor of this view:

• Gal 2.21: Paul clinches his argument not by making a comment about boasting in the law, but by saying, ‘if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died to no purpose.’
• Gal 3.1–5 (quoting from Hab 2.4): Only those who are made right by faith will live. The Galatians did not receive the Spirit, who is a present guarantee of their future salvation, by faith not the doing of Torah. Therefore, those who are made righteous by Torah will not live, because they the law is not faith.
• 2 Cor 3.7–18: The problem with the old covenant and Torah is not that it places impossible demands upon people but that ‘what once had splendour has come to have no splendour at all, because of the splendour that surpasses it’ (3.10).

If one concludes with most of current scholarship that Romans 7 is not about Paul pre-Christian experience and if one agrees with Sanders’ conclusion about the Second Temple Judaism[s]‘ sentiment towards and perceived role of the Torah in their covenant relationship with God, then Sanders argument seems fairly reasonable. The new age of new creation has been brought about by the death and resurrection of Jesus, so allegiance to another other than Christ is wrong because of its surpassing greatness compared to all things of this present evil age, including the Torah. Further, this logic syncs quite well with Galatians, as the old dividing lines of gender, race, economic class, etc. also were not inherently evil. Nevertheless, to continue to live by them suggested that one’s identity was still attached to this present, evil age and not in Christ. And it was for this reason that to be exclusive to Gentiles was to forsake the Gospel, because it forsake the basic notion that they had been delivered from the present, evil age that adheres to normal racial divisions, as opposed to being in Christ where difference in ethnicity no longer mattered.

1. God has graciously chosen Israel as his people
2. He gave them the law, which implies …
3. God’s promise to maintain the election, and …
4. the requirement to obey
5. God rewards obedience and punishes transgression
6. The law provides for means of atonement, which results in …
7. maintain or re-establishment of the covenantal relationship
8. All those who are kept in the covenant by God’s mercy, atonement, and [intended] obedience belong to the group which will be saved.

He concludes that this is markedly different from a system of legalistic works-righteousness. As before, I have no doubt that some will look at this system and conclude that it is in fact legalistic (perhaps, for instance, the Free Grace movement and other like minded folks might arrive at a similar conclusion). No doubt about it, the Rabbis et al were very concerned to see their people in God’s way following his commands. However, to me, I don’t find the basic contours of Sanders’ presentation of covenantal nomism to be radically different from my understandings of the Gospels call to ‘follow Jesus’ and Paul’s appeal to be ‘in Christ’.

… only the perfectly righteous [i.e. those who have kept God's commands], who are few, will be saved by God, and that only after suffering and pain. One has here the closest approach to legalistic works righteousness which can be found int he Jewish literature of the period; for only here are the traditional characteristic of God—he freely forgives and restores sinners and maintains the covenant promises despite transgression—denied. Put another way, IV Ezra differs from other literature which we have studied by viewing sin as a virtually inescapable power (see 3.20), while still considering it to be transgression of the law which must be punished accordingly. We noted that in Qumran men, even the elect, were considered to be ‘in sin’ in the sense of being participants in human frailty, but that human frailty as such did not condemn. Means were provided for the atonement of most transgressions [apart from those which were interpreted as blatantly forsaking the covenant; e.g. idolatry, blasphemy, etc.], and the elect were not ‘lost’ despite being ‘in sin’. In IV Ezra, however, the human inability to avoid sin is considered to lead to damnation. It is this pessimistic view of human plight which distinguishes the author from the rest of Judaism as it is revealed in the surviving literature (418).

So though covenantal nomism dominates the literature in Sanders’ view, legalism is present when covenantal nomism collapses. Now we turn to Pauline literature to see what voice—covenantal nomism or legalism—he was primarily conversant.

1. What is Sanders’ core presentation of Palestinian Judaism?
2. Am I convinced by his construal of Palestinian Judaism?

In regards to the second question, I am convinced by a much but not all of Sanders’ presentation. However, the answer to the first question is fairly clear, as he does a commendable job laying out his view in a cogent manner. One of the constant refrains of Paul and Palestinian Judaism can be illustrated in this quote:

Obedience is the condition of salvation but does not directly earn it (410).

One could find dozens and dozens of quotes in this book that say more or less that obedience is the condition of salvation (and in some expressions of Palestinian Judaism the consequence of salvation) while not earning salvation. As I am grappling to wrap my mind around this ‘New’ way of construing Palestinian Judaism, I keep coming back to the illustration of marriage, which I find especially appropriate since both topics fit most comfortably under the banner of covenant. Just as in a marriage, one’s faithfulness to one’s spouse does not earn them a marriage covenant, yet obedience is part and parcel of the marriage covenant. It is not legalistic for me to be faithful to my wife. My faithfulness did not earn a marriage covenant. Nevertheless, my wife and I had an understanding of lifelong mutual faithfulness upon entering into our marriage.

If Sanders’ presentation of Palestinian Judaism is veracious (1st class conditional statement—’let the reader understand’), then the import on our default understanding of how soteriology ‘worked’ for many Second Temple Jews (who were the people who wrote the Bible [with the possible except I suppose of a couple debated books]) needs to be reset. The mutually obligatory covenantal understanding of salvation needs to be given further consideration as the ‘starting point’ for many of the more Jewish authors of the New Testament. Faith and works are not mutually exclusive but, as with most relationships, interrelated. Our actions tell us what we truly believe, if Sanders’ presentation is veracious. The authors of the early Christians writings also seem to argue upon this understanding of faith and action.

1. 1 Enoch 94.4: ‘But seek and choose for yourselves righteousness and an elect life’
2. 1 QpMic 7f: ‘… those who volunteer to join the elect of God.’

Either these documents were written by people who didn’t have enough intellect to maintain logical coherency for one sentence or we are eisegeting our understanding of election/predestination into these texts. Throughout these writings, the paramount issue is covenant. God chose a people, Israel. In Jesus’ day, it would seem, many Jews believed that individual’s have freedom to choose and responsibility. And this freedom did not invalidate God’s election because God chose a people to make covenant with but individuals still had the freedom to choose.

• Sir 3.3: ὁ τιμῶν πατέρα ἐξιλάσκεται ἁμαρτίας, // the one honoring [their] father atones for sins.
• Sir 3.30: πῦρ φλογιζόμενον ἀποσβέσει ὕδωρ, καὶ ἐλεημοσύνη ἐξιλάσεται ἁμαρτίας. // [as] water puts out a blazing fire, so alms atone for sins.

Giving to the poor is a thoroughly Jewish idea. The notion of alms giving to the poor as salvific is also found Didache 4.6: ἐὰν ἔχῃς διὰ τῶν χειρῶν σου, δώσεις λύτρωσιν ἁμαρτιῶν σου. // if you have through your hands [i.e. through working], give it in redemption for your sins. The idea here is giving money earned through labor to the disadvantaged of the community serves to redeem the person from their sins.

This Jewish idea also shows some influence in Matt 25.31–46. In this parable, the Matthean Jesus separates those whose destiny is unending punishment from those whose destiny is unending life. The distinguishing mark between these two groups is one cared for the disadvantaged and the other did not. However, unlike Sirach, the Didache, or later Rabbinic writings, the link between giving to the poor and redemption/atonement/etc. is not explicit but implicitly embedded in the story.

I wonder if Matthew backed off a bit from this link between alms and redemption, making it only implicit, because he wanted to allow room for Jesus’ death as ultimately redemptive/salvific (cf. Matt 20.28). I am not a Matthean scholar but one might be able to see a trajectory here, as other Christian writers don’t seem to make this link: as the Jesus movement went from Jewish to largely Gentile, the distinctly Jewish link between alms and atonement slowly died to make room for other understandings of atonement (from Point A [Sir 3.30] to Point B [Did 4.6] to Point C [Matt 25.31–46]).

Just curious blog musings here, people …

This is important because this difference effects how one answers the question: ‘how do I get in?’ For Rabbinic Judaism, all Israelites have a share in the world to come simply by being born into the covenant—not earned by ‘works’ but given by birth. However, this cannot be said of the Qumran community.

After reading Sanders and his selected bits of the Dead Sea Scrolls and his summary of the views of Burrows, Schulz, and Braun on the topic  of grace and works at Qumran, a couple things seem clear:

1. The Qumran community was not overly concerned with a systematic presentation of grace vs. works. They were more concerned with orthopraxy, or should I say, for them orthodoxy and orthopraxy were virtually synonymous.
2. The Qumran community conceived of salvation as essentially communal. God’s was saving a community—those within the covenant. They were not asking the question that Paul is often thought to be asking or Luther asked. Krister Stendahl was right to point out that this reading owe more to the introspective conscience of the West than to a close reading of Paul and his surrounding Jewish literature (K. Stendahl, “The Apostle Paul and the Introspective Conscience of the West”, HTR 56 [1963] 199–215).
3. The Qumran community was not aware a grace vs. legalistic dichotomy. If they knew that one was either a legalist or a proponent of grace, then they would likely have taken a position on one side or the other. However, they moved seamlessly to and fro across this conventional line. The members were simultaneously worthless sinners and called to be perfect (cf. 1 QS 1.27; cited on pg. 292). Sanders argues that i1 QH 13.16–18 the righteous man receives ‘everlasting peace and length of days’ but his righteous is only by God’s goodness. Notice how CD 14.1b–2 moves seamlessly between grace and works: ‘But as for all who live [lit. "walk"] by these rules, God’s covenant stands firm for them, delivering them from all the traps of corruption; but “the ignorant pass them by and are punished.’ 1 QH 4.30f reads: ‘Righteousness, I know, is not of man, nor is perfection of the way of the son of man: to the Most High God belong all righteous deeds’, implying that the ‘perfect of the way’ at Qumran are so only because God has given righteousness to them. Further, 1 QH 14.24 states that God pardons ‘those that repent of their sins’ but punishes the wicked. The covenant is given by a delivering God [grace] for those who live by the rules [works]. As Sanders puts it: ‘[in Judaism] “grace” and “works” were not considered as opposed to each other in any way’ (297).

Of especially note is 1 QS 11.12:

I stumble, God’s loving-kindness forever shall save me.

If through sin of the flesh I fall, my justification will be by the righteousness of God which endures for all time.

So Pauline is this that one could easily stand and read this in a church and the congregation would undoubtedly suspect that they had just heard a snippet of the Pauline Corpus. Further, Sanders points out that the righteousness of God is parallel to his mercy (309).

In the Qumran writings, those outside the covenant are damned. Since one cannot be born into the covenant, conversion, confession, and purification are needed. Sanders states: ‘[Obedience] is the consequence of being in the covenant and the requirement for remaining in the covenant. Obedience is paramount at Qumran, but it can’t be said that one ‘gets in’ by obedience.

Sanders goes on to say: ‘I believe it is safe to say that the notion that God’s grace is in any way contradictory to human endeavor is totally foreign to Palestinian Judaism. The reason for this is that grace and works were not considered alternative roads to salvation. Salvation (except in IV Ezra) is always by the grace of God, embodied in the covenant.’ I find myself more or less convinced by his thesis (NB–I will be reading all the of the Dead Sea Scrolls for a class this Fall, so I will better equipped to critically assess his thesis at that time).

Again, think marriage, not grace in opposition to action. One does not earn one’s way into salvation. Salvation is for the covenant community, who receive God’s forgiveness for their sins. Yet, just as in marriage, the covenant comes with an understanding (sometimes implicit and somethings explicit) that one must intend to live their life in keeping with the covenant. 1 QS 1.24–2.4 makes clear that one ‘got in’ by confession and the grace of God, but they were expected to walk ‘faultless in all of His ways’ as a member of the community, allowing for atonement when one fails (cf. 1 QS 5.6). One obeys because they are in the communal covenant relationship; one does not get into the covenant relationship because they obeyed.

However, even if Sander’s presentation is veracious, it remains to be seen whether or not Paul had the same perspective. For example, the average Jew during the Second Temple period might not have thought of grace and works as mutually exclusively, but that still could have been Paul’s critique of Judaism. That question remains before us.

Thus, in one sense, Sanders’ basic goal—to ‘destroy that view [that Rabbinic Judaism was a religion of legalistic works-righteousness]‘—is impossible in some respects. When one asks an anachronistic question and comes up with an answer (viz., the Rabbis were legalistic), one can destroy that view insofar as they show it to be anachronistic. This, however, Sanders does do and paints in its place another picture.

However, Sanders does a decent job of showing the conclusions of Ferdinand Weber and Billerbeck et al to be misguided. The basic contours of Judaism are not about earning one’s way into salvation. Rather, salvation was given to Israel in the form of a covenant with God. And a covenant, unless explicitly specified otherwise, it two-sided and conditional.

As Sanders repeatedly points out, it is difficult to determine Rabbinic soteriology, but the Rabbis were not systematic theologians. They tended to be more concerned with orthopraxy than orthodoxy. Nevertheless, large thought-contours can be noted. And these large thought-contours do not seem to point in the direction of a legalistic works-righteousness view of salvation: not obeying in order to get in but obeying because you were already in the covenant.

While there are a handful of passages that discuss the weighing of one’s deeds, Sanders is careful to point out that a close reading of these passages will reveal that they were not written to teach about soteriology but motivate towards righteousness. A study of atonement confirms this: merits were not weighed but atoned for, and atonement could cover any number of sins (cf. m. Sheb. 1.6ff et al; pg 157–60). Further, the Rabbis actually seemed to warn explicitly against a legalistic attitude:

“To love the Lord thy God.” – Lest you should say, “I shall study Torah so that I may be rich and so that I may be called Rabbi and so that I may receive a reward in the world to come,” Scripture says, “To love the Lord thy God.” All that you do, do only from love (Sifre Deut. 306; quoted from pg. 121).

This sort of a comment could come directly out of the mouth of a modern preacher speaking against legalistic religion. This rabbinic text is aware of the concept of legalism (i.e. ‘I do good works to earn salvation’) and warns against, positing love for God as proper motivation.

If you will permit me to use modern illustrations, think of two situations. First, you’ve eaten at a restaurant and don’t have money to pay your bill. You’re indebted to the owner. Thus, you’re told to wash dishes for X number of hours to pay off your bill and earn your meal. Second, a qualified companion has proposed marriage to you. You haven’t earn this proposal, it came to you by the companion’s free will and love. You haven’t earned it but you still have obligations that come along with this marriage covenant: fidelity.

Sander, it would seem, argues that Rabbinic Judaism has been accused of typifying this first situation. Yet, he claims a careful reading of the material paints a picture of the second situation. The Rabbis were not asking, ‘How do I get saved?’ They believed that Israel, as God’s covenant people, had already been selected for salvation, as stated in m. Sanh. 10.1: ‘All Israelite have a share in the world to come …’. They assumed that as members of the covenant they were already destined a share in the world to come. The covenant, however, did come with a certain way of life that must be followed: commandments that brought reward when obeyed and punishment when not obeyed. In short, they didn’t do good deeds to get ‘saved’; they did good works because God had already chosen Israel to be his covenant people, who will inherit the world to come. They were married to the Lord, not washing dishes to earn a meal at his heavenly diner.

In conclusion, Sanders states:

God has chosen Israel and Israel has accepted the election. In his role as King, God gave Israel commandments which they are to obey as best they can. Obedience is rewarded and disobedience punished. In case of failure to obey, however, man has recourse to divinely ordained means of atonement, in all of which repentance is required. As long as he maintains his desire to stay in the covenant, he has a share in God’s covenantal promises, including life in the world to come. The intention and effort to be obedient constitute the condition for remaining in the covenant, but they do not earn it.

There will certainly still be fundamentalists of a Calvinistic persuasion who will still conclude that the Rabbis were legalistic who did not ‘get’ grace. Yet, I personally do not see a great difference the view of grace/faith and deeds in the writings of the Rabbis and much of the New Testament. You don’t earn salvation. Its given by God. But being a part of the people of God does mean that you must at least intend to live life in God’s way.