RITUAL MODIFICATION AND INNOVATION
Introduction
Whenever an individual or a group embeds a ritual in a new context, that ritual most often undergoes some form of change on a scale from minor (“modification”) to major (“innovation”). This is not the same as the process Catherine Bell calls “ritualization,” which is the shift of normal everyday practice becoming ritual action (1992, 74). In the case of ritual modification and innovation, extant and recognized ritual practices are changed over time. This phenomenon is reflected in certain texts in the Bible (Gorman 1995, 29; MacDonald 2016b, 4), including those written by and for early Jesus adherents. Arising within the context of Second Temple Judaism, Jesus adherents naturally adopted and adapted the rituals of ancient Israel. With increasing numbers of non-Judeans joining Christ groups, further modifications were incorporated into the rituals as these sectarian groups grappled with a new identity separate from but related to a long-standing tradition. The Gospel of Luke presents an interesting case study of how one writer draws on the heritage of Israel to frame Jesus’ words and actions. In so doing, his narrative reflects modifications and innovations to ritual purification, prayer, and meal practices framed by his understanding of Jesus as the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel and by the destruction of the temple by the Romans in 70 ce.
Defining and describing ritual change
It is by virtue of their regularity and repetition that particular actions are designated “ritual,” and thus for many scholars “there is a tendency to think of ritual as something traditional or essentially unchanging” (Uro 2016, 73). For example, Rappaport states clearly, “I take the term ‘ritual’ to denote the performance of more or less invariant sequences of formal acts and utterances not entirely encoded by the performers” (1999, 24), thus ruling out any option for “change, creativity, and innovation” (Grimes 2014, 189). As a result, ritual innovation or invention does not appear as a major theme in ritual theory, and few scholars write extensively on it (Uro 2016, 73).
This is not, however, a universal position, and there are some scholars for whom rituals are always in a state of flux (Bell 1997, 222). Even when the form of the ritual remains the same, a change of context or a shift in interpretation represents a modification of that ritual (Kreinath 2004, 270). In many cases, however, form and meaning are interrelated. “Changes in form stimulate changes in meaning and conversely, change in meaning will have an effect on change in form as well” (Kreinath 2004, 271). As Bell points out, “Part of the dilemma of ritual change lies in the simple fact that rituals tend to present themselves as the unchanging, time-honored customs of an enduring community” (1997, 210). Yet rituals do undergo modification, change, and sometimes even transformation. Bell provides a detailed example with a diachronic examination of baptism and Eucharist in the Christian West over many centuries. In terms of the latter – Eucharist – she rightly notes that some of the changes were “accidental,” due more to circumstance and context than due to some (claimed) “revelation,” but both types of changes were necessary to maintain the relevance of the ritual for changing communities (1997, 220). As a result of the work of Bell and others, ritual innovation is coming more to the fore in ritual studies, although it remains in need of much more analysis and theorization (Frevel 2016, 133; Grimes 2014, 295).
The difference between a ritual “modification” and a ritual “innovation” is hard to gauge, as there is no demarcation for how much a ritual needs to change to move from one category to the other. In general, “modifications” are minor changes to the ritual that do not substantially change how the ritual might be identified. Grimes provides a diachronic example of a wedding ritual in which a couple might once have been referred to in the ceremony as “man and wife,” which has more recently been changed to “husband and wife” (2014, 295). A ritual transformation, however, brings about some fundamental shift in the ritual’s identity wherein essential elements of the ritual change, as we will see below in the case of the baptism by John the Baptist. Nevertheless, between modification and innovation exists “a wide spectrum of how rituals can possibly change” while remaining an essential part of group identity (Kreinath 2004, 267–268). This is different than ritual transgression, which involves “conflict, contestation, and disputing identity,” according to Richard DeMaris (Chapter 8).
Modification and/or innovation in ritual practice has been rightly placed into the category “transfer of ritual,” in which “a rite or a ritual is transferred from one context to another” (Langer et al. 2006, 1–2, 7). Such changes can occur either to the contextual aspects in which the ritual is performed or within the ritual itself. The increasingly popular shift of North American wedding rituals from a religious sanctuary (most often a church) to a holiday destination (a beach) represents a modification of the context of the ritual. When the ceremony itself largely follows the Christian ritual structure but includes readings from other religious traditions (e.g., Buddhism) or non-religious sources, it reflects an internal modification.
There are a number of ways in which a ritual might be altered in either context or practice including (but not limited to) those shown in Table 9.1 (adapted from Langer et al. 2006, 2).
TABLE 9.1 Ritual alteration
Contextual aspects |
Internal dimensions |
Media in which the ritual appearsGeographic locationSpace utilizationCultural contextGroup composition (incl. gender)Historical antecedents (real or claimed) |
Script Performance Aesthetics Structure Self-reflectivity Interaction Communication Symbolism Objects |
Changes in one aspect or dimension will often lead to changes in the other, so that it is not always clear whether the context changed to which the ritual responded, or the ritual changed, which resulted in a change in context. Either way, the ritual becomes something other than what it was. Even a change of context will affect the internal dynamics, and a change of internal dynamics may invite or even require a change of context.
Contextual aspects of ritual most clearly refer to the immediate environs of the ritual itself. However, broader social contexts also play a part in ritual modification. As Risto Uro rightly notes,
Ritual innovations are seldom completely new in their historical and cultural contexts. New rituals are built on existing rituals and cultural elements – sometimes copied or modified from more distant or exotic “primordial” contexts. This is essential in promoting the “archetypal” quality of a new rite.
(2016, 75)
For example, in describing how rituals were introduced into Soviet social life in the mid-1960s, Bell notes that there was a concerted effort to disseminate particular activities among the public in ways that would make them acceptable. Interestingly, she argues that the process of developing these rituals, in many ways secular replacements for religiously infused rituals marking transitional life experiences, “was not one of complete creation ex nihilo” (Bell 1997, 227). She notes how “various familiar symbols and traditions were readily appropriated in bits and pieces to fashion something that was evocative while still espousing sentiments in keeping with official directives” (1997, 227). In order for new or modified rituals to take root, they must have some connection to the community in which they are a part, often by adapting “familiar images and patterns to new purposes, including the self-definition of communities” (1997, 237).
A modern example of ritual modification as a result of the impact of broader socio-cultural contexts can be seen in the mindfulness movement that has taken hold in the West, where practices derived from ascetic Buddhist monks are being used variously across multiple sectors of society (see Wilson 2014). Although Westernized practices have a century-long history of development, a few key proponents of what would come to be known as mindfulness are credited with modifying and innovating Buddhist practices for popular consumption, including Thich Nhat Hanh, Jack Kornfield, Joseph Goldstein, and John Kabat-Zinn, among others. Through experiential workshops and seminars, more and more people began regularly practicing a new form of mindful awareness tailor-made for the American context. Although claiming to draw heavily upon tradition, proponents were also clear in adapting Buddhist practices for a non-Buddhist audience. For example, at the Insight Meditation Society (IMS) run by Kornfield and Goldstein,
a conscious attempt was made to downplay chanting, ceremony, and many aspects of Buddhist cosmology and belief. This does not necessarily mean that the teachers did not themselves appreciate such things, but they perceived them as potential obstacles to American students.
(Wilson 2014, 33)
Kabat-Zinn’s Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) plays down the Buddhist connection even further, focusing on “a scientific rather than a religious” framework (Wilson 2014, 35; cf. Maex 2011). Thus, despite the claims of many mindfulness teachers, the breathing rituals and ritualized poses associated with the movement do not fully replicate ancient practices nor are they necessarily derived from Buddhist texts. As Wilson notes, “prior to the 20th century, few everyday Buddhists would have even heard of mindfulness practice, much less read texts on it or engaged in it themselves” (2014, 19), and even the Buddhist monastics practiced it in ways not seen in the mindfulness movement (2014, 38).
Wilson summarizes the disparate elements of the 1960s and 70s that collectively led to the success of the mindfulness movement among non-Buddhists in the United States in the late twentieth century:
the growth of higher education; the creation of the religious studies discipline; the rise in Asian immigration; the founding of American meditation-oriented Buddhist centers; the countercultural revolution; the popularity of psychology; the deepening political, military, and cultural entanglement in Southeast Asia; and the publishing of mindfulness travelogues by Western laypeople.
(Wilson 2014, 31)
This modern example of ritual modification is more complex than can be given justice here, but nonetheless shows the two key elements of ritual modification and innovation: contextual shifts and internal adaptations.
What this example also illustrates is just how many factors can affect change in ritual, both internal aspects and narrow and broad external contextual dynamics. Rarely does change occur only through outside influences or through internal adaptations, and such dichotomization can be unhelpful (Handelman 2004, 11–12). We are better served to think in terms of a “fuzzy” dynamic framing wherein rituals are modified and transformed by both socio-cultural environments and the internal performances themselves which are constantly re-framing the ritual (Handelman 2004, 15–19, for which he draws upon the Mobius ring as an illustration).
It is one thing to trace ritual change in a modern, observable period such as mindfulness in the West, but doing it for antiquity presents a special set of problems, although it is still possible. For example, Risto Uro explores John’s baptism as a ritual innovation. He begins by pointing out that ritual innovations must prove efficacious among participants while also meeting the challenge of some people being disappointed (2016, 74). For this latter aspect, he points to the description of disciples of John the Baptist in Ephesos whose baptism is deemed insufficient by Paul since it did not include the Holy Spirit (Acts 19:1–7; 18:25). Nevertheless, there was a core group of followers for whom this ritual innovation towards bodily purity – moving from everyday ritual bathing in a miqveh to a one-time ritual immersion – was sufficiently attractive to draw them into new ritualized behavior that differed in form. Rather than self-administered ritual washings, John’s immersion involved an agent (John or one of his disciples) who facilitated the ritual (Uro 2016, 82–85). Based on studies in the Cognitive Science of Religion, Uro hypothesizes, “special agent rituals are intuitively sensed as more powerful than rituals with other structural profiles” and as such “often trigger emotional arousal and play a significant role in motivating and energizing members of a movement” (2016, 87; cf. 92). The public, individual, and confessional nature of participation in the ritual involved high emotional and social costs, which served to “enhance social cohesion and solidarity in John’s community,” which included practices such as prayer and fasting (2016, 94).
Uro’s analysis is predominantly at the historical level, attempting to discover just what was innovative about the ritual practice of John “the Immerser” and the impact on the individuals involved and the Christ adherents that later undertook the ritual of baptism as an initiatory practice. Yet broadly construed religious innovations “rarely occur even today in the religious sphere alone,” and “in antiquity, they were always part of wider patterns of change” that included social, cultural, and political dimensions (Woolf 2015, 1–2). In this case, from the mid-first century bce Judea saw the rise to prominence of the Roman imperial presence in the land of Israel along with a number of individual religious specialists who acted outside of the ancient cultic system, the two of most interest to us being John the Baptizer and Jesus of Nazareth, both of whom appear in the four written accounts of Jesus that were eventually embedded in the New Testament canon.
At the narrative level, the Gospel of Luke presents the innovations of John’s water purification ritual as fulfillment of Isaiah’s claim that “all flesh shall see the salvation of God” (Luke 3:6, quoting Is 40:5). It is freely available to everyone in the crowds that come out to see and hear him, despite his berating of them (“you brood of vipers,” 3:7) and his challenging demands for social and economic justice (3:10–14). This latter text fits well with similar texts found throughout the remainder of Luke’s Gospel and is unparalleled in Mark and Matthew (which together with Luke are designated the “Synoptic Gospels” because they tell the narrative in similar ways; in this essay, I presume that Luke is using Mark as one of his sources). According to Luke, such words and actions leave the people wondering whether John is the Messiah (3:15), although the reader is already aware that John is anticipatory of Jesus, who is the actual Messiah. For Luke, John’s modifications to Jewish water purification rituals are likewise anticipatory of the Gospel story’s broader concern with ritual modifications and innovations. The writer uses Jesus’ words and actions to depict changes to Jewish cult practice, shifting them from being centered on the temple to being more broadly construed as available to individuals and communities at any time and place.
Caution is warranted, however, as we turn our attention to the text of the Gospel of Luke in more detail, since, “as has long been observed, a text is not a ritual” (MacDonald 2016b, 8). Narrative texts can represent some aspects of ritual practices but are not composed as ritual manuals, and thus ritual modifications are not always explicitly named (cf. Frevel 2016, 137). With “textualization,” there are at least two possibilities for understanding how rituals are modified (cf. Frevel 2016, 138). The first is that it represents ritual innovation that has already taken place. This certainly is the case with the story of John the Baptist and his water ritual in the Jordan River.
The other possibility with textualization is that it is meant to provoke or advocate ritual innovation. Narratives can have a role in making new connections and relationships that deliberately or inadvertently impact ritual performance (Frevel 2016, 138; cf. MacDonald 2016a; 2016b, 9). This is much more difficult to ascertain, especially since biblical rituals must be discussed in terms of their textual form and the practices themselves can never be observed (Frevel 2016, 148). “The performance of the rituals may have had a practical background, but they are now embedded in a textual world, which has an autonomous character and functions on the textual level” (Frevel 2016, 150). For example, when the temple was rebuilt, following the destruction of the original, sources indicate that the holy of holies was left empty, perhaps to accommodate Torah scrolls, which would “replace the ark of the covenant as the iconic focus of Israel’s worship,” since the ark served a number of ritual functions, including representing “God’s presence in Israel” (Watts 2016, 21, 22). With both these possibilities in mind – text as reflecting ritual modification and text as promoting ritual modification – we turn our attention to the narrative world of Luke’s Gospel to explore how ritual modification and innovation are presented therein.
Temple and ritual in the Gospel of Luke
In looking at Luke’s Gospel, we need to recognize at the outset that it is not a manual on ritual, and thus we cannot expect to find much specificity when it comes to outlining ritual procedures, much less modifications and innovations to rituals. Nevertheless, as we noted, ritual dynamics can be reflected in narrative texts, particularly when ritual texts are embedded “within a larger textual framework” (Gorman 1995, 23; cf. DeMaris 2008, 9), and thus we will observe in Luke’s Gospel how the narrative presents ritual behavior particularly by focusing on the temple and even validates innovative ritual behaviors for readers who belong to a Christ group.
The Jerusalem temple looms large in the Gospel of Luke, particularly at the beginning and the ending of the narrative (Taylor 2004; cf. Lanier 2014, 439–46). For Luke, the temple provides the link to Israel’s history while also symbolizing the shift to a new epoch in the interaction of God with people, one that opens up to include non-Israelites. The temple was the central focus of early first century ce Jewish worship. Herod the Great, for all his faults, was a keen builder, and he sank a lot of time and money into enlarging and enhancing the temple building, which took over eighty years to complete. It was a colossal structure with an outer colonnaded porch, a courtyard for the Gentiles, an inner courtyard for women, and an inner sanctuary where stood the holy of holies, the place of the yearly sacrifice for atonement for sin. Temple worship was controlled by the reigning high priest, who had working with him the chief priests and other functionaries. The men who comprised this group were all very wealthy, all lived in Jerusalem, and were all close friends of the Roman authorities who had the political power in the land. Ordinary priests, however, were only required to be in Jerusalem to conduct worship twice a year for one week at a time and during festivals; the rest of the time they lived throughout the land. This massive and awe-inspiring temple edifice stood complete for less than a decade before the Jewish rebellion resulted in the might of the Roman army entering full force into the land, eventually leading to the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple in 70 ce.
Although Luke is writing at a time when Romans have already destroyed the temple, Jesus’ story is set at a time prior to this destruction. Luke begins almost immediately by narrating a typical ritual at the temple, yet even in this story there is a variation to the ritual that sets the pattern throughout the Gospel. Zechariah, one of the ordinary priests, enters the temple to burn incense at the appointed hour, but the liturgy is disrupted by the appearance of an angel with a message about the forthcoming birth of Zechariah’s son, John. In this opening story, the ritual variation comes miraculously by the hand of God (1:5–25). Within the infancy narrative itself (Luke 1:5–2:52), this is the first of a number of irregularities to ritual procedures expected in the temple.
After Jesus is born, Luke records in passing his ritual circumcision as having been done “according to custom” (2:21), but there follows a lengthier account of the prescribed purification ritual “according to the law of Moses” (2:22), for which Luke even parenthetically provides the textual justification with a composite quote from Exodus 13:2 and 12 (2:23). Luke then notes that while Jesus’ parents are in the Temple “doing for him according to the law” (2:27), the ritual was disrupted by a Spirit-inspired righteous and devout man who took Jesus in his arms and pronounced a blessing upon him, to the astonishment of his parents (2:25–33). Simeon then reveals the child’s fate to Mary. The event is paralleled in a much truncated form in the story of the prophetess Anna, whose own piety keeps her constantly in the temple and for whom Jesus represents the redemption of Jerusalem (2:36–38). Despite these disruptions, however, Luke is careful to note that Jesus’ parents “had performed everything according to the law of the Lord” (2:39) with respect to Jesus in the temple.
A final childhood story about Jesus concludes the opening section of Luke’s Gospel and also involves the temple. When Jesus is twelve years old he travels from Nazareth to Jerusalem with his parents for Passover, as is required “by custom” (2:41–52). The ritual feast presumably goes as planned, since Luke quickly glosses it (2:43a). It is in the aftermath that we find deviation from the expected. Noticing that Jesus is not with them, his parents return to the temple to find Jesus deep in conversation with the teachers there, amazing them with his own wisdom. Embedded within his seemingly enigmatic response to his parents’ inquiries, the boy provides the key to understanding why it is that he will eventually make significant modifications to the Jewish rituals set within the temple: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
Each of these three temple stories is unique to Luke’s Gospel and takes place around the time of a major life event: pregnancy, infant dedication, and puberty. And in each of these stories Luke clearly notes that the event is initiated as is prescribed by custom:
•“according to custom (kata to ethos)” (1:9);
•“according to what is customary (kata to eithismenon) under the law” (2:27; cf. 2:22, 23, 39);
•“according to custom (kata to ethos)” (2:42).
Each story does not reflect any sort of permanent modification to temple rituals, but the interruptions and deviations of expectations at the very least anticipate that Jesus will bring change to what takes place at the temple. Curiously, then, other than a brief mention of Jesus being brought to the pinnacle of the temple during the temptation account (4:9), the temple is not mentioned again in Luke’s Gospel until the inauguration of the passion narrative in chapters 18 and 19 (except perhaps in 13:34–35; see Taylor 2004, 474). At that time, however, we find the author again drawing specific attention to the temple through disruption of regular and ritualized practices that eventually point to a modification of the temple rituals for those who adhere to the Christ cult.
Contextual ritual modification – prayer
After an elongated build-up to Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem (9:51–19:44), the very first event Luke narrates upon Jesus’ entrance into the city is the radical action he takes in the courtyard of the temple (19:45–46). Although briefer than the parallel accounts in the other three gospels (Matt 21:12–13; Mark 11:15–17; John 2:13–17), the Lukan version sets the tone for Jesus’ interactions within the temple precincts. Jesus drives out the marketers, but in the Lukan version readers are not told that these include money-changers who would ensure the ritual purity of coins used to purchase sacrificial animals or pay for performance of temple rituals, as is the case in the other three versions. Luke likewise does not include mention of the sale of pigeons (Mark; Matthew; John) or sheep and oxen (John) for use in sacrificial rituals. Thus, in the Lukan version, references even suggestive of sacrifice are removed from the scene, which climaxes with Jesus declaiming “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer’; but you have made it a den of robbers” (19:46). Jesus’ words, the first clause of which is a quotation from Isaiah 56:7, are thus emphatic in the Lukan version that the temple was constructed to focus not on sacrificial rituals but prayer rituals (on the link between Jewish prayer and temple cult see Penner 2012, 67–71).
What follows is an assortment of speeches Jesus delivers that Luke brackets with reference to Jesus teaching daily in the temple and people coming out to hear him (19:47–48 and 21:37–38). Luke threads together a number of teachings, the first four of which are by way of conflict with authority figures from the temple itself, including debate on the ritual of John’s baptism (20:2–8), taxation (20:20–26), marriage regulations (20:27–38), and, most tellingly, a critique of the temple authorities themselves only thinly disguised as a parable (20:9–19). Although these teachings seem to silence his critics (“they no longer dared to ask him another question,” 20:40), Jesus does not cease his own challenges to their authority, warning people to beware of the scribes since they lay claim to undeserved respect both in the marketplace and synagogues and participate in long yet inauthentic prayer rituals (20:45–47).
Such anti-establishment teachings continue as Jesus praises a poor widow for her contribution to the temple treasury. On the surface, this might seem to support the continuation of the temple, but really serves as a condemnation to all those who “have contributed out of their abundance” (21:4). Such abundance was used to adorn the temple, comments on the beauty of which allow Luke to segue Jesus into a lengthier teaching about the coming conflagration that will result in the harassment of Jesus’ followers and the eventual destruction of Jerusalem and the temple itself (21:5–35). Rather than provoking despair, however, Jesus pushes vigilance and prayer “that you may have the strength to escape all the things that will take place” (21:36). The temple will not survive, but Jesus’ adherents will, and prayer is the ritual that will see them through. It is to prayer that Jesus himself turns when facing his own time of fear in the face of death (22:41–45).
We have noted that throughout this section of Luke’s Gospel, within the context of the Jerusalem temple, Luke draws attention away from sacrifice rituals. Reader focus is directed particularly to the importance of prayer, which Jesus declaims to be the primary focus of the temple (19:46) yet is a practice abused by his adversaries in order to draw attention to themselves (20:47). This concern with proper approaches to prayer brings together earlier passages in Luke’s Gospel that emphasize the importance of prayer for Jesus’ followers. Luke draws attention to prayer at critical moments in Jesus’ own life. For example, only in Luke’s Gospel does Jesus retreat to the wilderness for a time of prayer and renewal after dealing with “many crowds” coming to him for healing (5:16). And prior to choosing from among his disciples twelve whom would be deemed “apostles,” Luke embellishes his Markan source to note not only the reason Jesus went out to the mountain – “to pray” – but that “he spent the night in prayer to God” (6:12–13). Perhaps more significantly, when a voice from heaven declares Jesus’ identity as God’s son, only Luke specifies that Jesus was praying: both immediately after his baptism (3:21) and immediately prior to his transfiguration (9:28). Similarly, in the story of Peter’s identification of Jesus as “the Messiah of God” Luke is the only gospel writer to note that Jesus was in prayer at the time (9:18–20). Even when Jesus teaches his disciples how to pray, using words that will later become known as the Lord’s Prayer, Luke seems to add a preamble to a text from the Sayings Source (Q) that notes that Jesus himself was praying when the disciples approached him and asked him to teach them to do likewise (11:1).
Finally, Luke notes that Jesus left the city to go across the valley to the Mount of Olives “as was his custom (kata to ethos, 22:39)” which echoes references to customary rituals centered on the temple (1:9, 2:27, 2:42). In this instance, Jesus admonishes his followers, “Pray that you might not come into the time of trial” (22:40), before he himself withdraws a bit and “knelt down, and prayed” (22:41), asking God to “remove this cup from me” (22:41–42). The most reliable Greek manuscripts do not include additional information about the comfort of angels and Jesus sweating like drops of blood (22:43–44), which means the very next action is Jesus rising “from prayer” (22:45) to return to admonish the disciples again to “pray that you might not come to the time of trial” (22:46). This action seems almost choreographed in the narrative: admonishment to pray – kneeling to pray – rising from prayer – admonishment to pray. This leaves the reader with no doubt as to the importance Luke places on prayer rituals not only for Jesus but also for subsequent adherents.
All of these instances of Luke drawing specific attention to Jesus in prayer – at the baptism, renewal, identification, transfiguration, teaching, arrest – illustrate the core teaching of a story Jesus tells about a persistent widow, which Luke frames with Jesus encouraging his listeners “to pray always and not lose heart” (18:1), as Jesus himself does on the Mount of Olives. This story is immediately followed by a story of two men praying in the temple, one hypocritically and the other with appropriate humility (18:9–14). This second story returns the reader’s attention to the temple, and it is shortly thereafter that the narrative has Jesus arrive at that very location. All of this emphasis on prayer, but particularly as linked to the temple both in these stories and by the reference to “custom,” suggests that for Luke prayer is to inhabit life more than temple-based rituals, and is certainly not limited to being located at the temple.
Internal ritual modification – meals
Returning our own attention to the story of Jesus teaching in the temple, we can again pick up the thread of how Luke is narrating events to shift readers’ attention from the rituals of temple in ways that are suggestive of how Jesus’ adherents will modify Jewish practices, and not just with regard to prayer. Meal rituals also had important links to the temple, yet Luke presents Jesus introducing modifications to dining practices among Jesus’ followers. Dining of any form is always ritualized to some degree and for any number of reasons, although most often in order to set boundaries around insiders/outsiders and to solidify internal group solidarity (see Ascough 2012; idem, forthcoming).
Luke opens a new narrative section with reference to the Passover and the return of adversaries – the chief priests and scribes – who are seeking to have Jesus killed. Although there was not a requirement for pilgrimage to Jerusalem for Passover, many Judeans from the land and from the Diaspora did travel to the city. Passover itself lasted for seven days, beginning at sundown the first day with the eating of the ritually slain lamb along with unleavened bread. Jesus directs two of his followers to make preparations for the ritual meal in the upper room of a house (22:7–13).
In narrating the actual events at the meal, Luke modifies the version found in the Gospel of Mark, which serves as his source, both by providing a lengthy preamble and also by embellishing the words that Jesus uses when blessing the bread and the wine that he then distributes to those with him. There are (at least) two ritual modifications to consider in Luke’s version of the story, the first being a modification to how the Passover meal ritual is conducted and the second a modification to the Markan version of how Jesus’ followers are to memorialize Jesus through the sharing of bread and wine. We will consider each in turn, albeit briefly, recognizing that much scholarly work has been done on this constellation of historical and literary issues associated with this text (cf. Ascough 2008, 282–85).
In Luke’s version of the story, the meal Jesus shares with his “apostles” (22:14, perhaps a larger group than the “twelve” noted in Mark 14:17) is very clearly a Passover meal, as Luke has Jesus declaim, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (22:15). The time of Passover recalled the Israelites’ experience of deliverance from Egyptian bondage, as recounted in Exodus. The Passover meal itself was a ritual that had four distinct parts (although it is unclear whether this was fully in place during Jesus’ time). During the preliminary course, a cup of wine and a blessing accompanied a dish of bitter herbs. The liturgy proper included the drinking of a second cup of wine alongside recitation of formulaic questions about the events of the exodus and the singing of a psalm. The meal itself was initiated through the blessing of unleavened bread and the eating of the Passover lamb was again accompanied by a cup of wine. More psalm singing concluded the meal, and perhaps a fourth and final cup of wine.
Although some scholars have attempted to map the Lukan version of Jesus’ meal onto the stages of the Passover ritual (Jeremias 1966, 15–88), that there are only two cups of wine rather than three (or even four) suggests that Luke is attempting something different. Drawing on his Markan source, Luke moves forward Jesus’ claim that he shall no longer “drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes” (22:22) and even embellishes it by having Jesus also state separately (and earlier) that he will not eat the Passover meal again “until it [presumably the Passover] is fulfilled in the kingdom of God” (22:16). Thus, the Passover meal ritual is mooted, although not obliterated, by Luke through the bracketing claims of awaiting the kingdom of God. It seems that for Jesus’ adherents there is to be an alternative ritual use of food and drink that will evoke new salvific actions of God, actions that involve Jesus as the sacrifice that will inaugurate a “new covenant” between God and people. Luke is clearly emphatic in interjecting the word “new” before “covenant” (22:20, as is also the case in the Pauline version, 1 Cor 11:25).
Turning to the words and actions of Jesus in sharing the bread and wine with his fellow banqueters, Luke’s version bears similarities with Mark’s version (14:22–24; cf. Matt 26:26–28) and yet is more fully aligned with the wording recorded by Paul in 1 Corinthians (Table 9.2).
TABLE 9.2 Parallel accounts of Jesus’ ritualized meal
Mark 14:22–24 |
Luke 22:19–20 |
1 Cor 11:23–25 |
While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.” |
Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood.” |
The Lord Jesus … took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” |
The Pauline version certainly pre-dates Mark in terms of when it was written down, but this does not solve the puzzling question as to which version was first in use and which, if any, reflects the actual words spoken by Jesus. What is interesting here is that whether or not Luke is following Paul or another written source, he is presenting an alternative format to the actions of Jesus that he has before him in his Markan source. In the Markan story (and repeated in Matthew) there is no indication that Jesus is here initiating a ritual – that Jesus’ words and actions are to be used in a ritualized meal setting by future adherents. The notion of “remembrance” – that is, of ritualized performance that evokes a contextualized history – only appears in the narrative history of Jesus in Luke’s Gospel. It is not unique to Luke, since, as we noted, Paul also records Jesus’ words and actions as initiating a ritual of remembrance. It is unlikely, then, that Luke is innovative here – he is not himself introducing a new ritual. He is, however, modifying an extant narrative (Mark’s) in such a way as to provide the context for an innovative ritual that is being used by some Jesus adherents. In so doing, Luke presents it as supplementary to, or perhaps even an alternative to, the ritualized meal sharing of Passover.
In the Lukan account of Jesus’ meal, the distribution of the first cup among the apostles functions as a truncated version of the Passover ritual, which is then reinterpreted in the second part of the account in which Jesus declares that his own body and blood function as a new bond, a new covenant, between God and people. Whereas the lamb was the memorial sacrifice in the Passover ritual, Jesus now points to himself as that new sacrifice: “my body … given for you” and “my blood” which is “poured out for you” (22:19–20). The salvation that came through the Passover is re-remembered in a new ritual that recalls for later Jesus adherents the sacrificial, and thus the salvific, role Jesus played for them. This is encapsulated later in Luke’s Gospel by the words of the risen Jesus to the disciples in which he declares what happened to him to be a fulfillment of the Jewish scriptures – “the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms” (24:44) – in order that “repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name, beginning from Jerusalem” (24:46–47).
As if to underscore the importance of a meal ritual in which Jesus’ adherents memorialize, and to some degree encounter, Jesus, Luke includes a post-resurrection story of two men traveling away from Jerusalem and joined by a stranger, whom the readers know to be the risen Jesus. After recounting recent events, the men invite the stranger to join them for dinner, whereupon they fully recognize him as Jesus at the moment he takes bread, breaks it, and hands it to them (24:30–31). It is through the actions of taking, breaking, and distributing that followers can fully encounter the risen Jesus. For Luke, there is no longer need for an annual Passover meal to recall God’s salvation; it can come regularly in the ritualization of daily meals.
Despite their intention of traveling to Emmaus, the two men return to Jerusalem in order to tell Jesus’ disciples of their encounter on the road with Jesus. Thus, the center of the narrative action is returned to the city. And just as Luke opened his Gospel with a scene in the temple (1:8–23), so also does he end the narrative with another clear and direct reference: having observed Jesus ascend into the sky, the disciples return to Jerusalem where, Luke tells the reader, “they were continually in the temple blessing God” (24:53). There can be no doubt that Luke aims to draw his readers’ attention to the importance of the temple, yet as we have seen, the temple, and its attendant rituals, are modified in light of Jesus’ words and actions, especially his death and resurrection.
In light of the Roman destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 70 ce, and thus the disappearance of the context for temple rites, along with the increasing number of non-Judeans becoming Christ adherents, Luke’s portrayal of the temple both underlines its importance as part of the heritage of the Christ groups while pointing the way to ritual modifications for a new time and place. Rather than narrate new or replacement rituals, Luke is evocatively indicating that modifications to the customary place of temple within ritual behavior were acceptable and even necessary in Jesus’ own lifetime.Luke is not the first to grapple with the necessity of ritual change in the face of a destroyed temple.
The destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and the forced migration of many elites to Babylonia in 587 bce necessitated considerable alterations to Israelite religious practice. Sabbath, circumcision, and prayer have often been pointed to as practices that come to particular prominence in a world without sanctuary.
(MacDonald 2016b, 6–7)
The destruction of the Second Temple in 70 ce once again leaves in question how God is to be seen as present with God’s people. For Luke, who sees God’s people as inclusive of but broader than the Judeans, God’s presence is known through contact with the risen Jesus. Although the temple was significant in the ritual life of Judeans prior to the time of Jesus, Luke understands the death and resurrection of Jesus to have obviated the need for the temple, since its core rituals are more immediately available to Jesus adherents wherever they are located. This is perhaps nowhere better symbolized when Luke, following Mark, records that as Jesus is dying on the cross, “the curtain of the temple was torn in two” (23:45).
Conclusion
Diachronic forms of ritual transference are particularly important for understanding how early Christ groups understood their rituals. One form is “the re-adoption or reinvention of a ritual after a break in its practice by the group whose tradition the ritual belongs” (Langer et al. 2006, 4). In the Jewish Diaspora, many ritual modifications had already been introduced (cf. MacDonald 2016b), but certainly in the face of the Roman destruction of the Jerusalem temple in 70 ce, Judeans needed to re-configure rituals that had formerly been linked directly to the temple, such as animal sacrifice and the sprinkling of blood and offering of incense by the High Priest in the temple’s Holy of Holies. Christ groups both prior to and after the temple’s destruction faced an additional challenge as they became increasingly populated by non-Judeans. Nevertheless, many of them continued to (re-)claim some (albeit not all) Jewish ritual practices, yet in doing so they adopted and adapted them. By way of contrast, the most obvious ritual that was not adopted by non-Judeans was circumcision, seen especially in Paul’s rejection of this rite for those not born Jewish (see Choi in this volume).
Luke’s Gospel is the reflection of just one instance in the broader phenomenon. Yet, it is not clear whether Luke himself is attempting to reframe rituals as a “ritual expert” for a new communal context (cf. Bell 1997, 223) or whether he is reflecting in his account the adaptation and modification of Jewish rituals already present within a community (cf. Handelman 2004). Since all we have is Luke’s writing, we cannot know with any certainty whether changes have been made by practitioners, which are later recorded by Luke, or whether Luke himself is suggesting the changes. There are at least some hints that both might be taking place. Luke opens his Gospel by acknowledging previous accounts, which he is attempting to compile and synthesize (1:1–4). At least one of these accounts – the Gospel of Mark – is available to us. Thus, we can examine parallel passages in the two Gospels and note changes that Luke has introduced to the description of a ritual. While far from certain, at least at the literary level it looks like Luke might be presenting some of his own nuance, especially with respect to prayer. But Luke also records traditions that have developments outside of his Gospel. As we saw, the ritualized elements of the so-called last supper are similar to the Passover ritual, but also have key differences. But some of these differences in Luke are exactly the same as the differences between Paul’s recording of a “tradition handed down” concerning the ritual of the “Lord’s supper.” So, in this case, it may be Paul, or some unknown predecessor (even Jesus), that has modified a ritual that eventually makes its way into Luke’s account.
It is important to note that ritual changes – modifications, innovations, or even transfer – are perceived from the etic, or outsider’s, perspective, particularly that of later historians (Langer et al. 2006,1). For group insiders (the emic perspective) the rituals are often perceived as static – the way they have always been. There is continuity with the past that links the current group to all that have gone before them. In this context, modified rites “are integral to the construction of many forms of communal identity,” yet rely on preexisting relationships among participants (Bell 1997, 252). In the case of the Christ group(s) for which Luke writes, the rituals that Jesus’ teachings engender are consistent with the heritage of Israel, which the group itself can claim as their own. For insiders, there is no innovation; Jesus simply expresses how these rituals have always been or, at least, should have always been, performed (recall, “my house shall be a house of prayer,” 19:46). Ritual practices “consolidate the ideology and moral values of the movement,” and without some sort of ritual system, “the core beliefs would not be remembered; nor would they be transmitted to the next generation” (Uro 2016, 1). While the temple may be destroyed, Luke preserves rituals that link the Jesus adherents to what he considers the core cult practices of Israel.
What is significant about the observations we have made is how Luke theologizes ritual modifications through the contextual lens of the temple. Whether Jesus, John, the disciples, or any other practitioner introduced the innovations, Luke wants his readers to understand these changes as linked to, yet moving beyond, the history of Israel and the close connection to God that the Jewish people felt through the temple. Such connections are not obviated with the destruction of the temple, but they require changes in ritual behavior, not limited to but including water purifications, prayer, and meals.
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