Kitabı oku: «The Making of the New Testament», sayfa 2

The history of this movement in the formative period of the New Testament canon explains why the "revelations of the prophets" obtained but scant recognition as compared with the "word of the Lord" and the "commandment of the apostles." Last of the three, in order of rank (1st Cor. xii. 28; Eph. iv. 11), last also to be codified in written form, we need not be surprised that our present New Testament retains but a single one of the once current books of 'prophecy.' For a time the Shepherd of Hermas and the Apocalypse of Peter rivalled the claims to canonicity of our own Revelation of John, but were soon dropped. Our own Apocalypse has suffered more opposition than any other New Testament writing, being still excluded from the canon in some branches of the church. Its precarious place at the end of the canon which we moderns have inherited from Athanasius (ob. 373) was due, in fact, far less to its author's vigorous assertions of authority as an inspired "prophet" (i. 1-3; xxii. 6-9, 18 f.) than to the claims to apostolicity put forward in the preface and appendix. For until the third century no one drammed of understanding the "John" of Rev. i. 4, 9 and xxii. 8 otherwise than as the Apostle. Eusebius accordingly (325) is uncertain only as to whether the book should be classed in his first group of "accepted" writings, along with the Gospels and Pauline Epistles, or in the third as "spurious." If written by "some other John than the Apostle" he would not even honour it with a place in his second group of "disputed" books, along with Hebrews, James, Jude, and 2nd Peter.

Thus at the end of the second century, while there was still much dispute (destined indeed to continue for centuries) as to the limits of the New Testament canon, there had in fact come to be a real canonical New Testament set over against the Old, as of equal, or even greater authority. The "word of the Lord," the "commandment of the apostles," and at last even the "revelations of the prophets," had successively ceased as living realities, and become crystallized into written form. They had been codified and canonized. The church had travelled the beaten track of the synagogue, and all the more rapidly from the example set before it. None of the early canons (i. e. lists of writings permitted to be read in the churches) coincides exactly, it is true, with the New Testament current among ourselves. The list of Athanasius is the first to give just our books. The Roman list of the Muratorian fragment (185-200) omits Hebrews, James and 2nd Peter, and gives at least a partial sanction to the Apocalypse of Peter. The lists of Origen (ob. 251) and Eusebius (325) vary as respects both inclusion and exclusion. All early authorities express a doubtful judgment regarding the outer fringe of minor writings such as James, Jude, 2nd Peter, 2nd and 3rd John. Even those of larger content, such as Hebrews and Revelation, if their apostolicity was questioned, remained subjects of dispute. But already by a. d. 200 the time had long since passed when any of the thirteen epistles bearing the name of Paul could be deemed open to question. Marcion's exclusion of the three Pastorals had been forgotten. Dispute of the four-gospel canon could still be tolerated; but not for long. Irenæus (186) has no patience with "those wretched men" who cannot see that in the nature of the case there should be neither more nor less than this number. But he explicitly refers to those who disputed "that aspect of the gospel which is called John's." There were, in fact, opponents of Montanism at Rome, who under the lead of Gaius had denied the authenticity of all the writings attributed to John, including the Gospel itself. But even those of the orthodox who were willing enough to reject Revelation, with its now unfashionable eschatology, agreed that Gaius' attack upon the fourth Gospel was too radical. The small body who continued for a few generations to resist the inclusion of any of the Johannine writings in the canon remained without influence, and were ultimately forgotten. The 'catholic'⁶ church had repudiated heresy, standardized the faith, and confined its recognized historic expression to a 'canon' of New Testament Scripture.

CHAPTER II
THE REACTION TO CRITICISM

The consolidated 'catholic' church of the third century might seem, so far as its doctrine of Scripture was concerned, to have retraced its steps to a standpoint corresponding completely to that of the synagogue. Only, the paradox still held that the very writings canonized were those supremely adapted to evoke a spirit of resistance to the despotism of either priest or scribe. The Protestant Reformation was a revolt against the former, and it is noticeable how large a part was played by the New Testament doctrine of the 'Spirit' in this struggle of spiritual democracy against hierocratic tyranny. Paul's Epistle to the Galatians became Luther's Palladium.

But the post-Reformation dogmatists took fright at their own freedom. The prediction of the Romanists that repudiation of traditional authority in its ecclesiastical embodiment would result in internecine schism and conflict seemed on the point of being realized. The theological system-makers, like their predecessors of the post-apostolic age, could see no way out but to throw all their weight on a past inspiration assumed to be without error. The canonical books were declared to furnish an infallible rule of faith and practice.

It was in the sincere desire to meet the requirements of this theory that the science of criticism grew up. In the earlier days it did not venture for the most part beyond what is known as 'textual' criticism. For a doctrine of inerrancy is manifestly unserviceable until errors of transmission have been eliminated. Textual criticism set itself to this task, asking the question: As between the various readings found in different New Testament manuscripts, which is original? Unfortunately, to meet the logical requirement the critic, if not backed like those of Rome by a papal guarantee, must himself be infallible. The inevitable result of this attempt, begun in the sincerest spirit of apologetics, was to prove that an infallible text is hopelessly unattainable. Textual criticism is indispensable; but as the servant of apologetics it is foredoomed to failure.

The variation of the manuscripts was not the only obstacle to biblical infallibility. To say nothing of differences of interpretation there was the question of the canon. Either the decision of the 'catholic' church must be accepted as infallible, or scholarship must undertake a 'criticism of the canon' to defend the current list of "inspired" books. A 'higher' criticism became necessary if only to vindicate the church's choice on historical grounds. Roman Catholics like Simon, whose Critical History of the Biblical books appeared in 1689-1695, could reopen the question with impunity. Those who based their authority on the infallibility of Scripture alone could not meet the challenge otherwise than as Michælis did in his Introduction to the Divine Writings of the New Testament (1750-1780). Michælis undertook a historical inquiry into the circumstances of origin of each of the canonical books, with the object of proving each to be in reality what tradition declared. The twenty-seven commonly accepted were supposed to have been either written by apostles, or at least so super-intended and guaranteed by them, as to cover all with the ægis of an infallibility not conceded to the post-apostolic age. Scholarship in the harness of apologetics again found its task impracticable. Michælis himself confessed it "difficult" to prove authenticity in cases like that of the Epistle of Jude. Conceive the task as the scientific vindication of a verdict rendered centuries before on unknown grounds, but now deprived of official authority, and it becomes inevitably hopeless. Can it be expected that doctors will not disagree on the authenticity or pseudonymity of 2nd Peter, who always have disagreed on this and similar questions, and have just admitted failure to agree in the matter of text?

For half a century criticism seemed lost in the slough of mere controversy over the (assumed) infallible text, and the (assumed) infallible canon. Apologists fought merely on the defensive, endeavouring to prove that men whose fallibility was admitted had nevertheless pronounced an infallible verdict on the most difficult subjects of literary and historical inquiry. Critics had an easy task in showing that the church's theory of inspiration and canonicity was incorrect; but made no progress toward a constructive explanation of the religious, or even the historical, significance of the literature. Real progress was made only when criticism left off the attempt either to establish or disestablish a 'received' text, or an 'authorized' canon, and became simply an instrument in the hand of the historian, as he seeks to trace to their origins the ideas the church enshrined in her literature because she found them effective in her growth.

For the great awakening in which New Testament criticism 'found itself' as a genuine and indispensable branch of the history of religion, we are largely indebted to the eminent church historian, Ferdinand Christian Baur (ob. 1860). Baur gathered up the fragmentary results of a generation of mere negation, a war of independence against the tyranny of dogmatic tradition, and sought to place the New Testament writings in their true setting of primitive church history. His particular views have been superseded. Subsequent study has disproved many of his inferences, and brought from friend and foe far-reaching modifications to his general theory. But, consciously or not, Baur, in making criticism the hand-maid of history, was working in the interest of that constructive, Christian, doctrine of inspired Scripture which an ancient and nameless teacher of the church had described as "witness" to the Life, "even the eternal life, which was with the Father," and is in man, and has been manifested in the origin and historical development of our religion.

The Reformation had been a revolt against the despotism of the priest; this was a revolt against the despotism of the scribe.

Baur gave scant – too scant – consideration to early tradition, making his results unduly negative. None of the New Testament books are dated; few besides the Pauline Epistles embody even an author's name; and these few, 1st and 2nd Peter, James, Jude and Revelation, were (1st Peter alone excepted) just those which even the canon-makers had classified as doubtful, or spurious. Not even a Calvin would support the authenticity of 2nd Peter, a Luther had denied the value of James and Revelation. It had been an easy task for 'criticism of the canon' to show that those who determined its content had not been actuated by considerations of pure science. Those books secured admission which were most widely current as ancient and trustworthy, and whose orthodoxy met the standards of the time. Those were disputed, or rejected, which were less widely current, or unorthodox, or could establish no direct relation to an apostle. It was proper for the critic, once his aim had become not apologetic but historical, to drop once for all the question whether the canon-makers' selection – made not for scientific, but for religious purposes – is good, bad or indifferent. The time had come for him to apply the available evidence to his own scientific question: What relation do these several writings bear to the development of Christianity? It remained to be seen whether he could offer constructive evidence more convincing than tradition.

The latest date to which an undated, or disputed, writing can be assigned is that when the marks of its employment by others, or influence upon them, become undeniable. This is termed the 'external' evidence. The earliest date, conversely, is that to which we are brought down by references in the book itself to antecedent and current events, and writings, or by undeniable marks of their influence. This is termed the 'internal' evidence. Counting tradition as part of the external evidence, modern scientific criticism is able to fix within a few decades the origin of all the New Testament writings, without incurring opposition even from the apologist. No scholar now dreams of adopting any other method of proof, whatever his doctrinal proclivities. The overwhelming majority are agreed that the period covered, from the earliest Pauline Epistles to the latest brief fulminations against Gnostic Doketism and denial of 'resurrection and judgment,' is included in the century from a. d. 50 to 150.

Baur's conception of the course of events in this momentous century has been described as a theory of historical progress by fusion of opposites in a higher unity. The Hegelian scheme of thesis, antithesis and synthesis had in fact some justification in the recognized phenomena of the development of Christianity. It had sprung from Judaism, overcoming the particularism of that still nationalistic faith by the sense of its mission to the world at large. The conflict acknowledged in all the sources and most vividly reflected in the great Epistles of Paul to the Galatians, Corinthians and Romans, a conflict between those who conceived Christianity as a universal religion, and those who looked upon it as only a reformed, spiritualized and perfected Judaism, was the characteristic phenomenon of the first or apostolic age. It was the struggle of the infant faith against its swaddling bands. The critical historian is compelled to estimate all later, anonymous, accounts of this development in the light of the confessedly earlier, and indubitably authentic records, the four great Epistles of Paul; for these simply reflect the actual conditions, and are not affected by the later disposition to idealize the story. Thesis and antithesis were therefore really in evidence at the beginnings.

Equal unanimity prevailed as to the close of the period in question. In a. d. 150 to 200, Christianity was solidifying into the 'catholic' church, rejecting extremes of doctrine on both sides, formulating its 'rule of faith,' determining its canon, centralizing administrative control. It had thrown off as heretical upon the extreme left Marcion and the Gnostics, who either repudiated the Jewish scriptures altogether, or interpreted them with more than Pauline freedom. On the extreme right it had renounced the unprogressive Ebionites of Palestine, still unreconciled to Paul, and insistent on submission to the Law for Jew and Gentile, as the condition of a 'share in the world to come.' What could be imagined as to the course of events in the intervening century of obscurity? Must it not have witnessed a progressive divergence of the extremes of Paulinists and Judaizers, coincidently with a rapprochement of the moderates from the side of Peter and that of Paul respectively? Baur's outline seemed thus to describe adequately the main course of events. He relied upon internal evidence to determine the dates of the disputed writings and their relation to it. But 'criticism of the canon' in Baur's own, and in the preceding generation, had come to include among the writings of doubtful date and authenticity not only those disputed in antiquity, and the anonymous narrative books, but also 1st Peter and the minor Epistles of Paul. Nothing strictly apostolic was left save the four great Epistles of Paul.

The theory of Baur and the Tübingen school (for so his followers came to be designated) was broadly conceived and ably advocated. In two vital respects it has had permanent influence. (1) Criticism, as already noted, has ceased to be mere debate about text and canon, and concerns itself to-day primarily with the history of Christian ideas as embodied in its primitive literature. Its problem is to relate the New Testament writings, together with all other cognate material, to the history of the developing religion from its earliest traceable form in the greater Pauline Epistles to where it emerges into the full light of day toward the close of the second century. (2) Again, Baur's outline of the process through which the nascent faith attained to full self-consciousness as a world-religion required correction rather than disproof. It was a grievous mistake to identify Peter, James, and John with those whom Paul bitterly denounces as Judaizing "false brethren," "super extra apostles," "ministers of Satan." It was a perversion of internal evidence to reject as post-Pauline the Epistles of the later period such as Philippians and Colossians, on the ground that Paul himself did not live to participate in the second crisis, the defence of his doctrine against perversion on the side of mystical, Hellenistic theosophy. The great Epistles written under the name of Paul from the period of his captivity are innocent of reference to the developed Gnostic systems of the second century. They antagonize only an incipient tendency in this direction.

But while the transition of a. d. 50-150 was both deeper and more complex than Baur conceived, the transfer of the gospel during that century from Jewish to Gentile soil is really the great outstanding fact, against which as a background the literature must be read; and the initial stage of the process is marked by the controversy of Paul with the Galilean apostles. What we must call, in distinction from Paulinism, 'apostolic' Christianity is well represented in the Book of Acts. Paul's writings show that he felt himself and his churches to represent an independent type of Christianity in all respects equal to the 'apostolic,' the problem being unification of the two. Now it is axiomatic that the investigator must proceed from the relatively known and determinable to the unknown and disputable. Accordingly it is in reality from the Epistolary literature of the church, in particular the greater Pauline Epistles, that he must take his start. As a source for our understanding of the development of the life of the church the Literature of the Apostle, directly participant in the conflicts and issues of the times, even if in its later elements of doubtful or pseudonymous authorship, takes precedence as a whole over the Literature of the Catechist, with its later and more or less idealized narration, exemplified in the Book of Acts.

Modern criticism acknowledges, then, its indebtedness to the Tübingen school for a clearer definition of both its task and method, by concentrating attention upon the contrast between the Petrine and the Pauline conception of 'the gospel.' Still it must be admitted that most of the inferences first drawn have since been overthrown. In their chronological scheme of the New Testament writings the Tübingen critics under-estimated the force of the external evidences (including early tradition) and misinterpreted the internal. New discovery and more careful study of literary relations have inverted Baur's views as to dates of the Johannine writings. Four of these (the Gospel and three Epistles) are anonymous. Baur's date for these has been forced back by no less than half a century. The fifth (Revelation) bears the name of John, but was hotly disputed as pseudonymous in the second century, and even by its supporters was dated so late as "the end of the reign of Domitian" (95). The Tübingen school placed Revelation thirty years earlier, and attributed it to the Apostle. Modern criticism emphatically reverts to the ancient date, and regards the book as pseudonymous, or as written by "some other John."

Again the relative dates of the Synoptic writings (Matthew, Mark, Luke-Acts) were inverted by the Tübingen critics, primarily through wrong application of their theory of doctrinal development; secondarily, and as a consequence, through misinterpretation of the intricate literary relationships. Present-day criticism considers it established that Mark is the oldest of the three, taken up by each of the other two. There is almost equal unanimity in regarding the discourse material common to Matthew and Luke and variously combined by each with Mark, as independently drawn by them from the book of the "Precepts of the Lord," reported by Papias to have been compiled by Matthew "in the Hebrew (i. e. Aramaic) tongue." Tübingen gospel criticism is thus almost entirely set aside, in favour of the so-called 'Two-document' theory.

So with the Pauline Epistles of the second period. Doubt still clings to Ephesians. It had been treated by some as pseudo-Pauline even before the time of Baur; but Baur's own followers soon receded from his extreme application of his theory to the internal evidence of Philippians, Colossians and Philemon. It became evident that Paul's "gospel" included something more than the mere antithesis of Law and Grace. He had other opponents than the Judaizers, and had to defend his doctrine against perversion by Grecizing mystics as well as against opposition by Pharisaic legalists.

Two generations of research and controversy have greatly advanced the cause of constructive criticism. Hand in hand with a more accurate dating of the literature, secured through more impartial judgment of both the external and internal evidence, there has gone a reconstruction of our conception of the course of events. The tendencies in the early church were not two only, but four; corresponding, perhaps, to those rebuked by Paul at Corinth, which called themselves by the names respectively of Peter, of Paul, of Apollos and of Christ. It seems probable from the bitterness with which in 2nd Cor. x. 7 Paul denounces the man who says, "I am of Christ," that this party-cry was employed in the sense of following the example of Jesus as respects obedience to the Law (for even Paul acknowledged that Christ had been "made a minister of the circumcision for the truth of God"). If so, the Corinthian "Christ-party" may be identified with those "ministers of the circumcision" who denied both the apostleship and the gospel of Paul. At all events those "of Cephas" were relatively harmless. They may be identified with the so-called 'weak' of Romans, for whose scruples on the score of 'pollutions of idols' Paul demands such consideration both at Corinth and at Rome. His own adherents both at Corinth (those 'of Paul') and at Rome (the 'strong') are to follow his example not merely in recognizing that: "No idol is anything in the world," that "there is nothing unclean of itself," and that "all things are lawful." It is to be followed also in recognizing the limitations of this liberty. Limits are imposed among other things by the scruples of others, so that Paul himself becomes "as under the Law" when among Jews, though "as without the Law" among the Gentiles. The "weak" are to be resisted only when the admission of themselves or their claims would lead to "doubtful disputations," or to a rebuilding of walls of separation that had been torn down through faith in Christ. Galatians sounds the battle-cry of endangered liberty. Corinthians (and Romans in still higher degree) shows the magnanimity of the victor.

Whether it be possible to identify those "of Apollos" at Corinth with the beginnings of that Hellenistic perversion of the Pauline gospel into a mystical theosophy which afterwards passed into Gnosticism may be left an open question. At least we have come to see that the conditions of the church's growth were far more complex than Baur imagined. In particular it is necessary to distinguish four different attitudes on the single question of the obligation of the Law. There were (1) Judaizers who insisted on complete submission to the Law as the condition of salvation, for both Jews and Gentiles; (2) imitators of Cephas, who considered believers of Jewish birth to be "under the Law," but asked of Gentiles only such consideration for it as the special conditions seemed to require; (3) Paulinists, who held that neither Jews nor Gentiles are under the law, yet felt that consideration should be shown for the scrupulous when asked not as of right, but as of charity; (4) radicals, who recognized no limits to their freedom save the one new commandment.

But while conflict first broke out over the mere concrete question of Gentile liberty, the real distinction of Paul's gospel from that of the older apostles was far deeper. The question as Tübingen critics conceived it concerned primarily the extent of the gospel message, – to how large a circle was it offered? Modern criticism has come to see that the difference was in higher degree a difference of quality. Paul's whole message of redemption through the cross and resurrection started from other premises than those of the Galilean apostles, and was conceived in other terms. For this reason it leads over to a new Christology. In short, the transition of Christianity from its Jewish to its Gentile form is not a mere enlargement of its field by the abolition of particularistic barriers. The background we must study for the understanding of it is not so much mere contemporary history as the contemporary history of religion. The development from the Petrine gospel broadly characteristic of the Synoptic writings, through the Pauline Epistles to that of the Johannine writings, is a transition from Hebrew to Hellenistic conceptions of what redemption is, and how it is effected. Modern criticism expresses the contrast in its distinction of the gospel of Jesus from the gospel about Jesus.

In the case of both Paul and his predecessors in the faith there is a common starting-point. It was the doctrine that God had raised Jesus from the dead and exalted Him as Christ and Lord to the throne of glory. Its proofs were the ecstatic phenomena of the Spirit, those strange manifestations of 'prophecy,' 'tongues,' and the like in the Christian assembly. The inference from this resurrection faith for an apostle of the Galilean group was that he must "teach all men everywhere to observe all things whatsoever Jesus had commanded." Jesus had been raised up in Israel as the Prophet like unto Moses; His apostle must repeat the remembered word of commandment and the word of promise. He will have an authority derived from the manifestations of signs and wonders. These had accompanied Jesus' own career, and now, by grace of His endowment of His disciples with the Spirit, they will be repeated by their hands. The 'apostolic' gospel is thus primarily historical. The Pauline gospel centres at the other pole of religious conviction. It is primarily psychological. For Paul the immediate effect of the revelation of God's Son "in" him is an irresistible impulse to relate his own soul's experience. The gospel he preaches is not so much what Jesus did or said while on earth, as what God has done, and is still doing, through the "life-giving Spirit" which emanates from the risen Lord. Signs and wonders are tokens of the Spirit, but are of less value, and must vanish before the "abiding" ethical gifts. Both the Pauline and the Petrine gospel start from the common confession of "Jesus as Lord"; but the Christology of the Synoptic literature is an Apotheosis doctrine, falling back on the historical Jesus. That of the Epistles is a doctrine of Incarnation, appealing to the eternal manifestation of God in man. For the former, Jesus was "a prophet mighty in deed and word," raised up by God in accordance with the promise of Deut. xviii. 18, to turn Israel to repentance. Having fulfilled this mission in rejection and martyrdom Jesus had been exalted to God's "right hand" and "made both Lord and Christ." He there awaits the subjection of all His enemies. In the Pauline gospel the story of Jesus is a drama of the supernal regions, wherein His earthly career as prophet, leader, teacher, sinks to the level of the merest episode. As pre-existent spirit, Jesus had been from the beginning of the creation "in the form of God." As the period of its consummation drew near He took upon Him human form, descended through suffering and death to the lowest depths of the underworld, and by divine power had reascended above all the heavens with their ranks of angelic hierarchies. Whether Paul himself so conceived it or not, the Gentile world had no other moulds of thought wherein to formulate such a Christology than the current myths of Redeemer-gods. The value of the individual soul had at last been discovered, and men resorted to the ancient personifications of the forces of nature as deliverers of this new-found soul from its weakness and mortality. The influential religions of the time were those of personal redemption by mystic union with a dying and resurrected "Saviour-god," an Osiris, an Adonis, an Attis, a Mithra. Religions of this type were everywhere displacing the old national faiths. The Gentile could not think of "the Christ" primarily as a Son of David who restores the kingdom to Israel, shatters the Gentiles like a potter's vessel and rules them with a rod of iron. If he employed this Old Testament language at all, it had for him a purely symbolical sense. The whole conception was spiritualized. The "enemies" overcome were the spiritual foes of humanity, sin and death; "redemption" was not the deliverance of Israel out of the hand of all their enemies, that (together with all afar off that call upon the name of this merciful God) they may "serve Him in holiness and righteousness all their days." It was the rescue of the sons of Adam out of the bondage to evil Powers incurred through inheritance of Adam's sinful flesh. This had been the tendency already of Jewish apocalypse. The starting-point of Paul's own conceptions was not Israel's bondage in Egypt, but a conception already tinged, like the late book of Jewish philosophy called the Wisdom of Solomon, with the Stoic conception of 'flesh' as prison-house of 'spirit,' already inflamed, like the contemporary Jewish apocalypses of Esdras and Baruch, with lurid visions of a universe rescued by superhuman power from a thraldom of demonic rule. Paul's preaching was made real by his own experience. For if ever there was an evangelist whose message was his own experience, Paul was such. And Paul's experience was not so much that of a Palestinian Jew, as that of a Hellenist, one whose whole idea of 'redemption' has been unconsciously universalized, individualized, and spiritualized, by contact with Greek and Hellenistic thought. Paul and the Galilean apostles were not far apart in their expectations of the future. Both stood gazing up into heaven. But for his authority Paul inevitably looked inwards, the Galilean apostles looked backwards.