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The Jewish Character of the Early Jesus Movement

Christianity traces its origins to an inner-Jewish movement that grew out of Second Temple Judaism, and should accordingly be placed in that context and understood against the background of ideas, interests, and concerns prevalent in Jewish society at that time. Jesus was a Jewish Torah teacher, Paul a Pharisee, and the Jesus movement began as Jewish prophetic movement rooted in Second Temple Judaism.

The adherents of the Jesus movement believed Jesus to be a prophet and the Messiah, developing an understanding of the Torah with his life, death, and resurrection as an interpretive prism. In so doing, they eventually clashed with nascent rabbinic Judaism, whose adherents were attempting to establish a new leadership based on interpretation of the Torah by a learned non-prophetic group. This process of identity formation in relation to the Jewish leadership in late Second Temple times is reflected already in the Gospels, and polemical claims against contemporary Jewish groups at the time of the redaction of the Gospels has shaped the subsequent understanding of Jesus’ teachings within Christian tradition. In the same way, concerns and assumptions of later Christian tradition have, until recently, largely determined the interpretation of Paul.

Placing Jesus and Paul in the context of Second Temple Judaism, this chapter aims at demonstrating how attention to the historical situation of Second Temple times—theological ideas and concerns along with the general approach to biblical interpretation prevalent at the time—impacts our understanding of the New Testament and the early Jesus movement.

Jesus—A First-Century Jewish Torah Teacher

A heightened awareness of the extent to which polemical concerns and theological ideas of a later time have governed our understanding of the beginnings of Christianity, and a greater willingness among scholars to acknowledge that Jesus and most likely also Paul remained committed to a Jewish lifestyle throughout their lives and should be understood within a Jewish context have led to significant breakthroughs in New Testament scholarship. The beginning of this scholarly trend is in large part due to the influential work of E. P. Sanders and has since been developed and continued by others.

Until the middle of the twentieth century, most New Testament scholars assumed that there was a fundamental contradiction between Judaism and Christianity, largely as a result of heavy influence from Protestant theology. While grace and forgiveness were essential tenets of Christianity, Judaism was seen as characterized by empty law observance and the idea of a God distant from humankind. This legalistic religion, with no inner commitment, where humans in vain strive for redemption by performing good deeds, became the standard dark background against which the message of Jesus appeared unique.^[1]

Despite several attempts to challenge this image of Judaism, mainly but not exclusively by Jewish scholars,^[2] it continued to be the basic assumption of almost all New Testament scholarship up until the end of the 1970s when it was finally reconsidered, mainly as a consequence of the scholarship of E. P. Sanders. In his influential monograph Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977), Sanders showed that the view of Judaism as a legalistic religion, without forgiveness, and the belief in a God far removed from humans, lacks support in Jewish sources and is best understood as a theologically motivated construction by New Testament scholars.

In place of this gloomy picture, Sanders found in Jewish sources ranging from ca. 200 B.C.E.–200 C.E. a basic pattern that he called covenantal nomism. With this term, he attempted to capture the role played by the Torah within the covenant that God had made with the Jewish people. This covenantal relationship was based on God’s election of Israel and their subsequent acceptance of the conditions of the covenant—the commandments. The Israelites were expected to keep these commandments to the best of their ability, but it is important to realize that they were given within the framework of the covenant. According to Jewish theology of the time, this meant that although obedience to God’s commandments was assumed to be rewarded and transgressions punished, forgiveness was granted if only there was repentance. As long as a Jewish person shows his or her desire to remain in the covenant by observing the commandments, he or she is granted a share in the world to come. Observance of the commandments, then, is not a way of gaining entrance into the covenant, but a means of staying in.

The inability of humans to fulfill the commandments to perfection was foreseen in the Torah itself and remedy is offered through the sacrificial institution (Lev. 4:1—6:7, 16:1-34), allowing those who have transgressed the law to be forgiven and the broken relationship to be restored. Rather than gaining merits in order to earn redemption, a Jewish person manifests his or her desire to be part of the covenant by performing the commandments while all the same relying on God’s grace and forgiveness. In contrast to most previous scholarship, Sanders maintained that God’s mercy and forgiving nature was an integral part of ancient Judaism.^[3]

Sanders’ work essentially changed the view of Second Temple Judaism in New Testament scholarship, and would leave its imprint on nearly all subsequent scholarship on Jesus. At present, virtually all scholars view Jesus as firmly rooted in Judaism, and his message as part of the multifaceted Second Temple Judaism. Jesus’ critique of the Pharisees as related in the Gospels is no longer viewed as a condemnation of fundamental tenets of Judaism but rather as disapproval of the religious leadership of the time and its interpretation of the Torah. It is seen in the context of Second Temple Judaism, when various Jewish factions with different views of Torah interpretation and the temple were competing against each other.

The study of parables is an area that clearly illustrates the benefits of understanding Jesus’ message in light of ideas and theological concerns of late Second Temple Judaism, a context often obscured by later Christian interpretation. Much of Jesus’ teachings appear in the form of parables, a form of instruction that was apparently popular at the time and continued to be used by the rabbis. However, as the adherents of the Jesus movement, at various stages in its development, applied the parables to their present situation, they infused them with new meaning, at times radically different from that which Jesus’ original audience is likely to have deduced from them.^[4]

The conflict over leadership, for instance—still an inner-Jewish conflict at the time of the redaction of the Gospels—hardened as the number of non-Jewish Jesus disciples increased, and eventually the critique that Jesus likely directed at the religious leadership of his time came to be understood as a general critique of Jews and Judaism. The parables of the Wicked Tenants (Matt. 21:33-46; Mark 12:1-12; Luke 20:9-19) and the Wedding Banquet (Matt. 22:1-14; Luke 14:15-24), for instance, were early on read as evidence that God had rejected the Jewish people and that his promises and blessings had been transferred to the Christian church.^[5] Unfortunately, these polemical interpretations have shaped the understanding of Jesus’ parables in much of subsequent Christian tradition. In order to disentangle the parables from later interpretations, it is fruitful to distinguish between the different layers of the parables: the Jesus level, the Gospel level, and later Christian understanding.

When attempting to reconstruct the parable at the Jesus level (assuming that he actually told the parable in some form), parables preserved in rabbinic literature have proved helpful. Although redacted later than the Gospels, rabbinic parables also have roots in Second Temple Judaism, and having been preserved in an exclusively Jewish context, polemical interpretations have affected and distorted their meaning to a much lesser extent. A comparative study of rabbinic and Gospel parables reveals numerous similarities concerning motifs, message, and shared concerns, lending further support to the assumption that the message of Jesus’ parables should be sought in their original Jewish context rather than in later Christian interpretations.^[6] One of the first scholars to draw attention to these similarities was David Flusser, who, based on the many common traits of rabbinic and Gospel parables, concluded that they were both part of a common tradition and environment.^[7] He found that they reflect the same concerns and points of reference, and that they are very similar with regard to structure, motif, theme, and theological message. Nearly always they concern the relationship between God and humans.^[8] The following reading of a few Gospel parables in light of rabbinic parables with similar motifs, themes, and message will illustrate the insights gained by this approach.

Fig. 7. The Sea of Galilee. Photograph by Anders Runesson.

The Parables of Jesus and the Rabbis

A baraita (a tradition from the tannaitic period) preserved in the Babylonian Talmud (b. Shabb. 153a), contains the following parable:

Rabbi Eliezer said: “Repent and return [shuv] to God one day before your death.” His disciples said to him: “But a man does not know when he will die!” Rabbi Eliezer replied: “Then all the more reason that he repent today, lest he die tomorrow, and thus his whole life will be spent in repentance [teshuvah]. As Solomon said in his wisdom, Let your clothes always be freshly washed, and your head never lack ointment [Eccl. 9:8].^[9] Rabban Johanan ben Zakkai said: “This may be compared to a king who summoned his servants to a banquet without appointing a time. The wise ones adorned themselves and sat at the door of the palace, for they said: ‘Is anything lacking in a royal palace?’ The fools, however, went about their work, saying: ‘Can there be a banquet without preparations?’ Suddenly the king desired [the presence] of his servants. The wise entered adorned, while the fools entered soiled. The king rejoiced at the wise but was angry with the fools and said: ‘Those who adorned themselves for the banquet, let them sit, eat and drink, but those who did not adorn themselves for the banquet, let them stand and watch.’”

In this case, the nimshal comes before the parable itself, and consists of a call for repentance without delay since the precise time of a person’s death is unknown. One should hasten to repair one’s relationship to God while there is still time. The Hebrew word for repentance (teshuvah) has the same root as the verb “to return” (lashuv) and “to answer” (lehashiv), indicating that repentance means to answer God’s call and return to him. The king in the parable, as always, stands for God and the king’s invitation without appointing a time corresponds in the nimshal to the fact that death is certain but the precise time unknown.

Not surprisingly, the unexpected element in this parable concerns the king whose behavior is rather odd. An invitation to dinner usually implies a set time, a detail that is highlighted by the fact that the word in rabbinic Hebrew for “to invite” (lezamen) contains within it the word for “time” (zeman). Thus, the king’s invitation of guests without telling them what time to come is surely peculiar. Moreover, a king does not usually invite his servants to a banquet, not a king in antiquity at any rate. Quite understandably, the foolish servants regard such an invitation as absurd, and since no preparations are in sight they go about their usual work. On the contrary, the behavior of the wise servants appears utterly illogical. With no indications whatever that the banquet is actually about to take place, they instantly leave whatever they are doing, dress up and rush to the palace.

The paradox produced by designating as wise those servants whose behavior seems odd, and as foolish those servants who appear to act rationally, suggests that the nature of God is not easily grasped by humans. While the foolish servants assume that God thinks and acts in the same manner as humans do, the wise realize that God is different. In contrast to a banquet arranged by a king of flesh and blood that requires obvious preparations, death may come quietly with no premonition. It is this insight into God’s will and character that distinguishes the wise from the foolish.

The wise servants are not otherwise presented as particularly pious or righteous and neither are the foolish particularly wicked. Far from living in opulence, they dutifully go about their tasks, but lack of insight into God’s will leads them to make wrong priorities in life. On the contrary, the wise have the ability to see the world through God’s eyes and accordingly realize that the king’s invitation gives them an opportunity to prepare themselves for the banquet/death by repairing their relationship to God and by spending every day in repentance as if it were the last. Humans tend to focus on the exact moment of death, but for God this is not important, which is suggested by the king’s invitation without appointing a time in the parable. He wants humans to live all their lives in constant closeness and fellowship with him; it is the preparations of the banquet rather than the banquet itself that are important to him.

Finally, it turns out that even the servants who did not dress for the banquet are present, although they are not allowed to eat and drink. The king’s invitation cannot be refused—death comes to everyone, even to those who are not prepared. God invites everyone to his banquet (the world to come), but he demands preparation (repentance), and there is a time limit (this world) during which humans must make up their minds as to how to relate to that invitation. Giving priority to God calls for decisive action.

It is not only the behavior of the servants that is paradoxical, but also the way the quote from Ecclesiastes is employed. In its biblical context, it seems to mean that one should enjoy life, but in the parable it is used to support the idea that humans ought to spend their entire lives in preparation for death. The purpose of these paradoxes seems to be to emphasize that God is different from humans and that, as a result, humans cannot easily understand him. What appears odd to humans is wise in God’s eyes, and what seems logical and perfectly reasonable from a human perspective may be utterly unwise from God’s viewpoint. To be wise, according to this parable, is to see the world with God’s eyes.

Shared Motifs and Messages

Although this parable likely represents a later stage in the development of parables, both motif and message are familiar from the New Testament parables such as the Ten Bridesmaids (Matt. 25:1-13; cf. Luke 12:35-48) and the Wedding Banquet (Matt. 22:1-14; Luke 15:16-24). As with the rabbinic parable in b. Shabb. 153a, the motif of the parable of the Ten Bridesmaids is an “invitation to a banquet without appointing a time,” and both contrast two categories of people—the wise and the foolish. The story about the Bridesmaids portrays five wise and five foolish maidens who go to meet the bridegroom. While the wise maidens bring both lamps and oil, the foolish ones take only their lamps. The bridegroom is delayed, however, and as they wait they all fall asleep. At midnight the groom is coming and the foolish maidens ask the wise ones for oil, but the latter refuse. The foolish maidens then go to buy oil but in the meantime the groom arrives and brings the prepared maidens with him to the wedding banquet. When the foolish maidens return with oil, they find the door shut and when they ask to be let in the groom replies: “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.” The parable ends with the call: Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour (Matt. 25:13).

The Gospel parable calls for preparation for the unknown time of the final judgment while the rabbinic one deals with the suddenness of death, but the proper response, whether impending judgment at the unknown time of death or the sudden appearance of the eschatological judge, ought to be the same, namely, a decision to repent, and to give priority to one’s relation to God.^[10]

The similarities in motif and message between the rabbinic parable in b. Shabb. 153a and the parable of the Great Dinner (Luke 15:16-24; Gos. Thom. 64), or the Wedding Banquet as it is known in Matthew’s version (Matt. 22:1-14), are apparent as well. Below is Matthew’s version:

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.’ But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, maltreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests. But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?’ And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ For many are called, but few are chosen.”

An unexpected element in this parable is the reactions of those invited to the wedding banquet. One would imagine that an invitation to a royal wedding is a great honor, but the invited guests are utterly uninterested. Some of them pointedly ignore the invitation and simply go about their every day tasks while others even seize the king’s servants and kill them. The seriousness of the distorted priorities of the invited guests soon becomes apparent when the king burns down their city.

Eschatology and the belief in reward and punishment following death or the final judgment are prominent themes in the parables of both Jesus and the rabbis. The fact that rabbinic parables are generally less harsh than those of Jesus, and the consequences of wrong choices less devastating, may be explained by a decline in imminent eschatological expectations in the wake of the destruction of the temple in 70 C.E., and the trampled messianic hopes after the Bar Kokhba revolt of 132–135. Up until these catastrophes, the belief in the imminent judgment of God that would end the present world and its corruption gained greater currency in Jewish thought, but as a result of the devastating consequences of such eschatological fervor, the rabbis were anxious to shy away from apocalyptic hopes and adopted a more this-worldly perspective, emphasizing the importance of the study of the Torah and good deeds.^[11]

If we were to assume that this parable in some form goes back to Jesus, it would be reasonable to presume, in light of what we know about the prevalence of eschatological hopes within Second Temple Judaism, that his intention was to emphasize the urgency of time and proper preparation for the impendent judgment. Time is limited, and if one is not ready for the kingdom of God when the eschatological judge appears, one may not get a second chance. On the Jesus level, then, the parable of the Wedding Banquet would seem to have the same message as the one of the Ten Bridesmaids and the rabbinic one about the king who invited his servants to a feast without appointing a time, namely, the urgency of making a decision to attempt to live in accordance with God’s will and preparing oneself for God’s call.

Reinterpretation of Jesus’ Parables

However, already in Matthew’s rendering it is possible to discern the beginning of a development that in due time would lead to the interpretation of the parable as being about the Jews who rejected the kingdom of God and the Christians who accepted it.

For Matthew, as the representative of a movement of Jewish disciples of Jesus, the invited guests (“many are invited”) probably represent Jews not connected to the Jesus movement, while his group—Jewish disciples of Jesus—are the chosen ones (“few are chosen”). It is possible that he, writing his Gospel in the 80s or 90s, considered the parable’s servants as representing the prophets, and that he saw in the king’s destruction of the city a prediction of Jerusalem’s fall in 70 C.E. The destruction of the city is not mentioned in Luke’s version of the parable and is part of the Matthean redaction. Matthew appears to direct his focus more on a later audience than on a setting during Jesus’ lifetime, and quite possibly he reads into Jesus’ parable a later conflict between Jewish disciples of Jesus and other Jews.

Violent attacks against the religious leadership, for which the Pharisees usually stand as representatives, are characteristic of the Gospel of Matthew. The author, like many other Jewish sectarian groups after the year 70 C.E., believed that the religious leaders had corrupted the people and held them responsible for the defeat by the Romans and the destruction of the temple. It appears likely that Matthew’s community and nascent rabbinic Judaism were initially very close to one another and likely, to an outsider, indistinguishable from one another. This close relationship may, at least in part, account for the fierceness of the attacks.^[12]

In Matthew’s time, the conflict over the correct interpretation of the Torah and the legitimate leadership was still an inner-Jewish one, and his critique is directed at the leadership of one of the major groups that he opposed. Later on, however, when the Jesus movement came to be dominated by non-Jews, it turned into a conflict between “the Jews” and the Christian church, with the latter claiming that they had replaced the Jews as the rightful heirs of the biblical blessings and promises. In this historical situation, the two groups of invited guests were understood to represent Jews and Christians respectively. Those who were first invited but ignored the invitation were identified with the Jewish people, while the Christians saw themselves as the few who were chosen, an interpretation that is very far from both the “Jesus level” and Matthew’s interpretation.^[13]

Another New Testament parable that, along with the parable of the Wedding Banquet, has been understood in Christian tradition as evidence that God had rejected the Jewish people and that his promises and blessings have been transferred to the Christian church is the one about the Wicked Tenants (Matt. 21:33-46; Mark 12:1-12; Luke 20:9-19; Gos. Thom. 65–66).^[14] Already early on in the history of Christian interpretation, it was read as an allegory where the son was understood to represent Jesus, the servants the prophets, and the wicked tenants the Jewish people. However, if it can be traced back to Jesus himself, his audience can hardly have understood it in this way. Below is Mark’s version of the parable:

Then he began to speak to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watchtower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. But they seized him, and beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. And again he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted. Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But those tenants said to one another, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Have you not read this scripture: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes’?” When they realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.

 

Among those who listened to Jesus, the motif of the vineyard with details such as watchtowers and wine presses were likely to evoke associations to the well-known passage about God’s planting a vineyard in Isa. 5:1-7: “My beloved had a vineyard. . . . [He] planted it with choice vines. He built a watchtower inside it, he even hewed a wine press in it. . . . For the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel.” The vineyard motif is common in prophetic literature,^[15] and is taken up in rabbinic literature, where the vineyard invariably stands for Israel.

If we for a moment disregard the later Christian interpretation of this parable and on the basis of the Hebrew Bible and Jewish tradition assume that the vineyard represents Israel, who then might the tenants and the son refer to? In all three synoptic Gospels it is clearly stated that the leadership associated with the Jerusalem temple interpreted the parable as directed against them, indicating that Jesus’ audience would have identified the tenants with the political and religious leaders. In Mark’s version, we have to look back to the passage immediately preceding the parable (Mark 11:27) to ascertain that “they” refers to the “chief priests, the scribes, and the elders,” but in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, their identity is spelled out at the end of the parable. Matthew 21:45 reads: “When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them.”^[16] Also, in all three synoptic Gospels, the parable is placed in the context of confrontations between Jesus and the religio-political leadership, giving further support to the conclusion that the audience would have understood it as directed against the religious and political leaders.

In these confrontations, the leaders question the authority of Jesus and in response, Jesus challenges them for not recognizing the authority of John the Baptist (Matt. 21:23-27; Mark 11:27-33; Luke 20:1-8). The reference to John the Baptist has led some scholars to identify the son in the parable with John the Baptist. They maintain that the parable was understood by Jesus’ audience as a critique of the religious leaders for their mistreatment of John the Baptist, and that as a consequence of the unworthy leadership, the vineyard (Israel) would be entrusted to other leaders.^[17] The king’s somewhat odd decision to eventually send his beloved son, risking his life, is an indication of how precious the vineyard is to him and by implication how precious Israel is to God.

Other scholars argue that the son need not be identified with anyone in particular,^[18] but agree that the point of the parable is critique of the religious leadership.^[19] This is not to say that the authors of the Gospels did not see a parallel between the mistreatment of John the Baptist by the religious leaders and the latter’s role in the death of Jesus, and may have wished their readers to note this resemblance also.^[20] Mark’s reference to the son in the parable as the king’s “beloved son,” is an indication that he understood the son to be Jesus, since “beloved son” is elsewhere a common designation for Jesus.

However, one verse in Matthew’s version of the parable hints at a different meaning altogether, foreshadowing the traditional Christian understanding of it. Contrary to the motif as commonly understood, Matt. 21:43 takes the vineyard to represent the kingdom of God: “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” Whereas Mark and Luke, in line with Jewish tradition, understand the vineyard to be Israel, Matthew identifies the vineyard with the kingdom of God and seems to imply that rather than Israel being given to other leaders, the kingdom of God will be given to another people.

Interestingly, the phrase “the kingdom of God will be taken away from you” does not appear in either Mark or Luke (cf. Mark 12:9 and Luke 20:16). A majority of scholars believe that Matthew knew the Gospel of Mark and reworked it, and so it would appear that verse 43 is a revision of Mark’s text, giving the parable a completely new meaning. It is very unlikely that Jesus’ audience understood the vineyard to be anything other than Israel, since this is what the well-known motif implies, and the fact that the text states that the religious leadership understood the parable to be directed against them suggests that this was the understanding at some stage of the Matthew level as well.

The somewhat unusual wording in verse 43 may in fact suggest that it is a revision of the original form of the Gospel of Matthew. While Matthew usually uses the expression “the kingdom of heaven” (hē basileia tōn ouranōn) in accordance with the Jewish practice to avoid speaking directly about God, verse 43 says “the kingdom of God” (hē basileia tou theou), raising the possibility that another hand is behind this verse.^[21] Based on these observations, some scholars indeed claim that verse 43 is a later addition to the Gospel of Matthew, reflecting a development where the split between Matthew’s community and Judaism had become irreversible.^[22]

As was noted above, there is much to suggest that the Gospel of Matthew originated in a community of Jewish disciples of Jesus, to which non-Jews could belong only if they converted to Judaism and accordingly also became Jewish disciples of Jesus. Many portions of the Gospel of Matthew seem to have a completely inner-Jewish perspective, evident in passages such as: “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt. 15:24), and “These twelve Jesus sent out with the following instructions: Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Matt. 10:5-6).^[23]

However, some scholars speculate that the Gospel of Matthew was taken over by a group of Gentile Christians in the process of separation between Judaism and Christianity. For these Christians who were trying to find a place for themselves in a movement dominated by Jews, texts suggesting that Jesus turned primarily, or even only, to Jews were likely disturbing, and in order to legitimate their own place in the community, they may have made certain additions that modify the inner-Jewish perspective of the original Gospel of Matthew. A greater openness toward non-Jews was achieved through the addition of statements such as: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations” (Matt. 28:19).^[24]

Thus, three different levels may be discerned in the parable of the Wicked Tenants: the Jesus level, the Gospel level, and later Christian interpretation. At the Jesus level, the vineyard stands for Israel and the point seems to be critique of the religious leadership, possibly occasioned by the particular instance of their mistreatment of John the Baptist. At the Gospel level, the point is still critique of the religious leaders, although in a broader sense, since the context is one of conflict over leadership and authority between the Jesus movement and other Jewish groups. The authors of the Gospels likely understood “the son” as referring to Jesus—as indicated by their designation of him as the “beloved son,” a term that elsewhere is used for Jesus—and the vineyard may have been understood as a particular group within Israel, namely the community of Jesus disciples. Finally, in later Christian tradition, foreshadowed by the reworking of the original Gospel of Matthew (Matt. 21:43), the parable was read as a prophecy about the death of Jesus and the destruction of Jerusalem, where the tenants were identified with the Jewish people, the son with Jesus, and the vineyard taken to mean the kingdom of God, which would be given to another people—the Gentile Christians.

The parable of the Wicked Tenants, then, illustrates how attention to biblical literature and rabbinic parables can help us get behind later Christian interpretations and reconstruct the way in which Jesus’ Jewish audience is likely to have understood this parable. The fact that “vineyard” is a symbol for Israel in both biblical and rabbinic literature strongly suggests that this is how “vineyard” was understood by Jesus’ audience and the authors of the Gospels too. Any other understanding of “vineyard” likely reflects polemical concerns. To be sure, polemical concerns are sometimes reflected in rabbinic parables too, although most of them have been used to convey theological messages in exclusively Jewish contexts. Some, however, seem to reflect a situation where Jesus-oriented groups laid claims to be the true heirs of the Bible’s promises and blessings and to be designed particularly to refute these claims. One such parable appearing in Sifre, a tannaitic midrash to Deuteronomy, employs motifs so similar to the parable of the Wicked Tenants that it raises the possibility that it came into being in direct response to the Matthean version of it.

Parables and Polemics

In commenting upon Deut. 32:9, “For the Lord’s portion is His people, Jacob his own allotment,” Sifre employs a motif similar to that of the Gospel parable of the Wicked Tenants:

For the Lord’s portion is His people, Jacob his own allotment [Deut. 32:9]. It is like [mashal le] a king who owned a field, which he leased to tenants. When the tenants began to steal from it, he took it away from them and leased it to their children. When the children began to act worse than their father, he took it away from them and gave it to [the original tenants’] grandchildren. When these too became worse than their predecessors, a son was born to him. He then said to the grandchildren: “Leave my property. You may not remain therein. Give me back my portion, so that I may acknowledge it.” Likewise [kakh] when our father Abraham came into the world, unworthy [descendants] issued from him, Ishmael and all Keturah’s children.^[25] When Isaac came into the world, unworthy [descendants] issued from him, Esau and all the princes of Edom, and they were worse than their predecessors. When Jacob came into the world, he did not produce unworthy [descendants], rather all his children were worthy, as it is said, Jacob was a perfect man, dwelling in tents [Gen. 25:27]. Now, from what point does God acknowledge his portion? From Jacob, as it is said, For the Lord’s portion is His people, Jacob his own allotment [Deut. 32:9].^[26]

The motif bears a striking resemblance to the parable of the Wicked Tenants: a king, a son, and unworthy tenants, and in both the king persists in entrusting his property to misbehaving servants before finally entrusting it to his son. Only the property is different, being a field rather than a vineyard, and somewhat surprisingly the field is considered important enough to be given to the king’s son.

According to the nimshal, the son is Jacob, who in Jewish tradition is identified with the people of Israel. This, together with the fact that Ishmael and Esau are rabbinic code names for the non-Jewish nations, suggests that the point of the parable is to justify God’s election of Israel, which, one might argue, took place at the expense of the other nations. The point here is that the election begins with Jacob, not with Abraham, and therefore does not include all of Abraham’s offspring. The election belongs exclusively to the descendants of Jacob, namely to the people of Israel, an argument that may have been designed to refute the claim made by Gentile Christians that God’s blessings and promises had been transferred to a “new people.”

The elevation of Jacob at the expense of Abraham may also imply a polemic argument directed at Paul’s claim that true faith had been achieved already by Abraham, and his contention that, based on God’s covenant with Abraham, non-Jewish disciples of Jesus could be included into the covenant with Israel’s God (Rom. 4; Gal. 3). Such a conclusion may be implied by the parable’s startling assertion that Jacob alone is God’s child; all the others, Abraham, Isaac and their respective descendants, are merely said to be tenants on the land.^[27]

Although it is not entirely obvious what the field stands for, it clearly has great value in the eyes of the king, since he entrusts it to his son as soon as he has one. From his persistence in passing it on, first to the children of the unworthy tenants and then to their grandchildren instead of finding better tenants, also indicates that he was really anxious for these tenants to have the field, hoping all the while that they would change and appreciate it. A reasonable guess is that the field stands for the Torah, especially given the tradition, widespread in tannaitic literature, that God first offered the Torah to the nations of the world (Esau, Ammon, Moab, and Ishmael) and gave it to Israel only after they had rejected it.^[28] A passage in Sifre Deut. §343 in particular emphasizes the efforts that God made in trying to offer the Torah to the non-Jewish nations: “There was not a single nation among the nations with whom he did not speak, knocking on each one’s door to ask if they wanted to receive the Torah.” Thus, in addition to its claim that Israel, as Jacob’s descendants, was the only nation worthy of God’s election, the parable may hint at the tradition of God’s insistent efforts at offering the Torah to the non-Jewish nations before giving it to Israel, as an additional justification of the election of Israel.

The need to legitimize their status as God’s people was an urgent concern for both Jews and Christians, as is evident from biblical interpretations of both groups. Affirmation of the continued status of Israel as God’s people, as well as awareness of the Christians’ claim of being the “true Israel” (verus Israel),^[29] is reflected in Song of Songs Rabbah, a midrash on the book of Song of Songs. It was compiled in the middle of the sixth century but also contains earlier traditions. There we find the following parable:

The straw, chaff, and the stubble were arguing with each other, each claiming that for its sake the ground had been sown. Said the wheat to them: “Wait till the threshing time comes, and we shall see for whose sake the field has been sown.” When the time came and they were all brought into the threshing-floor, the farmer went out to winnow it. The chaff was scattered to the winds; the straw he took and threw on the ground; the stubble he cast into the fire; the wheat he took and piled in a heap, and all the passers-by when they saw it kissed it, as it says, Kiss ye the corn [Ps. 11:12].^[30] So of the nations some say: “We are Israel, and for our sake was the world created,” and others say: “We are Israel, and for our sake the world was created.” Says Israel to them: “Wait till the day of the Holy One, blessed be He, comes, and we shall see for whose sake the world was created,” and so it is written, For lo! That day is at hand, burning like an oven. [All the arrogant and all the doers of evil shall be straw, and the day that is coming—said the Lord of Hosts—shall burn them to ashes and leave of them nor stock not boughs] [Mal. 3:19]; and it is written, You shall winnow them and the wind shall carry them off [Isa. 41:16]. But of Israel it is said, But you shall rejoice in the Lord, and glory in the Holy One of Israel [ibid.].^[31]

It is not explicitly stated that the other nations are the Christians, but it is evident from other sources relating similar disputes, such as the following passage from Midrash Tanhuma, where Moses asks God to write down the Mishnah:

Rabbi Judah bar Shalom said: “When the Lord said to Moses, ‘Write down [these commandments]’ [Exod. 34:27], Moses asked him to write down the Mishnah too. But the Holy One, blessed be He, foresaw that a time would come when the nations of the world would translate the Torah, read it in Greek and say: ‘We are Israel . . .’ The Holy One, blessed be He, will then say to the nations of the world: ‘You say that you are my children. That may be, but those who have my mystery, they are [certainly] my children.’ And what is the mystery? It is the Mishnah that was given orally.”^[32]

The fact that the “nations of the world” are said to read the Torah in Greek identifies them as Christians. The Christians took over the Hebrew Bible from the Jews, read it in its Greek translation (the Septuagint), and argued that the biblical promises and blessings had been transferred to them. Since the Bible was no longer Israel’s exclusive property, the distinguishing trait of the true children of Israel was now considered oral tradition, here referred to as the Mishnah. In contrast to the Bible, oral tradition distinguished Jews from Christians, and, accordingly, this is what defines the identity of the true heirs of the biblical promises and blessings in the view of the rabbis. In this account, God’s refusal to commit rabbinic interpretive tradition to writing was meant to ensure that the Christians would not take over this too and claim it to be theirs.

The struggle between Jews and Christians in antiquity was to a large extent a struggle over the interpretation of the Bible, in which each side claimed to possess the correct interpretation. The various versions of the early Jesus movement interpreted the Torah with the life and death of Jesus as the hermeneutical key, maintaining that they possessed the correct interpretation of Judaism and were therefore the rightful heirs of biblical tradition. Non-Jesus-oriented Jews, some of these groups maintained, did not understand their own scriptures and as a result the biblical promises had been passed on to the new people of God, namely the Christians. By contrast, the rabbis held that the rabbinic oral tradition was the key to understanding the Torah, and the sign that confirmed their continued status as the true children of God.

It is evident, then, that a comparison of Gospel parables to rabbinic ones reveals close similarities concerning motifs, concerns, and theological messages that likely go back to first-century Judaism. As paradoxical as it may at first seem, the use of similar motifs in rabbinic parables may actually help us get behind later interpretation conditioned by the Christian identity-formation process and concomitant rivalry with Judaism. Interpretation of a parable is determined largely by the context in which it is told or read, and since rabbinic parables have been preserved in an exclusively Jewish context and used mainly to convey ideas about Israel’s or humanity’s relationship with God, their interpretations have not been affected by the polemical debate between Jews and Christians in the way the Gospel parables have. However, a few rabbinic parables seem to have come into being in direct response to claims made by Jesus-oriented groups, and in these cases they have a clear polemical purpose. Thus, while most rabbinic parables can serve as a help to reconstruct the meaning of the Gospel parables at the Jesus-level, some are polemical responses to Gospel parables as they were later understood, reflecting a later stage of Jewish-Christian relations.

Paul—A First-Century Jewish Theologian

The scholarly debate on the Jewish character of the Jesus movement that began with Jesus’ place within Judaism is increasingly focusing on Paul’s relation to Judaism, with a growing number of scholars seeing Paul as a Torah-observant Jew who never left Judaism. The idea that Paul was concerned primarily with non-Jews, whom he wanted to include in the covenant with the God of Israel without first turning them into Jews, is becoming more common, and his negative statements about the law are being explained, at least in part, by his desire to prevent non-Jews from keeping commandments that were given to the Jewish people.^[33]

This stands in stark contrast to earlier Pauline scholarship that basically understood Paul to be in opposition to Judaism. During the nineteenth century, that view was reinforced as a consequence of the general cultural climate and especially through the writings of the German biblical scholar F. C. Baur (1792–1860), who was heavily influenced by the philosopher G. F. Hegel. According to Hegel, the development of the world takes place in dialectic triads toward higher and higher stages. Every thesis generates its antithesis, and the two are then resolved in a synthesis. Applying this system to the development of Judaism and Christianity, Baur saw in the Jesus movement’s separation from its Jewish heritage a process by which Christianity transcended Judaism reaching a higher stage of development. The superiority of Christianity thereby received a legitimacy that almost appeared scientific.^[34]

As noted above, the view of Judaism as a dark background to Christianity influenced scholarship on the historical Jesus, and this is all the more true concerning Pauline scholarship. If Judaism was characterized as a legalistic system in which people struggled in vain to fulfill obsolete commandments, it was no wonder that Paul turned away from it, establishing a new religion based on grace and forgiveness. Several modern scholars, among them Krister Stendahl and David Flusser, made attempts to modify the prevailing view of Paul and Judaism, but as was the case with Jesus and Judaism, it was only with the scholarship of E. P. Sanders that the traditional view of the relationship between Paul and Judaism was seriously challenged.

Sanders’s writings not only undermined the traditional idea of an opposition between Jesus and Judaism, but also challenged the assumption that Paul opposed the Jewish law. According to Sanders, Paul saw nothing wrong with the Torah. Rather, it was his belief that God had chosen to save humankind through Christ that led him to the conclusion that the Torah did not lead to salvation.^[35] If, as Sanders showed, Second Temple Judaism was not characterized by legalism and self-righteousness, and if the Jews did not believe that they earned salvation by observing the commandments of the Torah, this could hardly have been the reason for Paul’s attacks on the law. This insight paved the way for a completely new approach to the study of Paul that in many ways is much more radical than Sanders’s.^[36]

A growing number of scholars now consider Paul to have remained within Judaism throughout his life, and rather than arguing over whether or not Paul opposed parts of the Jewish law, the issue under discussion is what it meant to be a Torah-observant Jew in the Diaspora during the first century. In Acts, Paul is indeed portrayed as being Torah-observant, sacrificing in the temple (Acts 21:26) and asserting that he has never “committed an offense against the law of the Jews, or against the temple, or against the emperor” (Acts 25:8). The author of Acts was apparently aware that already during Paul’s lifetime there were rumors that he taught Jews to “forsake Moses” and not to “circumcise their children or observe the customs” (Acts 21:21), but dismisses them as false. Paul, according to Acts, “observe[s] and guard[s] the law” (Acts 21:24).

Greater emphasis is also attributed to Paul’s own statement that his mission is directed to the Gentiles (Rom. 11:13, 15:16; Gal. 2:2), that is, that he saw his mission as directed predominantly to the non-Jewish disciples of Jesus within the Jesus movement. Accordingly, his negative statements about the law should not be understood as an attack on the Torah itself, it is argued, but more likely served the purpose of dissuading the non-Jewish members of the Jesus movement from considering themselves righteous and saved based on their observance of the Torah.

The great attraction that Judaism seems to have held for non-Jews in antiquity is well documented, and there is much to suggest that these non-Jewish adherents to the Jesus movement wanted to and even insisted on observing the Torah.^[37] The Jewish historian Josephus writes: “The masses have long since shown a keen desire to adopt our religious observances; and there is not one city, Greek or barbarian, nor a single nation, to which our custom of abstaining from work on the seventh day has not spread, and where the fasts and the lighting of lamps and many of our prohibitions in the matter of food are not observed” (C. Ap. 2.282). With respect to the Jews in the city Antioch, he writes: “they were constantly attracting to their religious ceremonies multitudes of Greeks, and these they had in some measure incorporated with themselves” (B.J. 7.45). Although Josephus likely exaggerates, the attraction that Judaism held for non-Jews is well attested in Roman sources also. Many adherents to Greco-Roman religion simply seem to have incorporated the God of Israel into their pantheon together with other gods and goddesses.^[38] Thus, it is very likely that many of the non-Jews who joined the Jesus movement had long been in close contact with Jews and had already adopted Jewish traditions and customs.^[39]

For Paul, however, it appears to have been extremely important to uphold the distinction between Jews and non-Jews within the Jesus movement.^[40] In part, this may have been a consequence of his belief in the one true God. If the non-Jews had to become Jews in order to be saved, God would not be the God of the entire world but merely the God of the Jews (Rom. 3:29).^[41] Paul may also have believed that the Torah was reserved exclusively for the Jewish people, but to this we will return later.

In contrast to the later Christian assumption, Paul was bothered not by continued Torah observance on the part of Jewish Jesus disciples but by the desire of the non-Jewish members of the Jesus movement to keep the commandments of the Torah and by their claim to righteousness based on such observance. Like any other first-century Jew, Paul most likely considered the Torah as God’s gift to the Jewish people and as a sign of the covenant, taking continued Torah observance for granted among the Jews in the Jesus movement as well as among non-Jews who had converted to Judaism: “Once again I testify to every man who lets himself be circumcised that he is obliged to obey the entire law” (Gal. 5:3). In line with some other first-century Jews with a pessimistic view of the fate of non-Jews, Paul may have believed that for non-Jews who had not accepted the Torah, attempts to observe its commandments without the framework of the covenant and the means of atonement it provides would lead to destruction. According to this way of reasoning, the Torah is a blessing for those within the covenant but its commandments a curse for those outside of it.^[42] The idea that the Torah could function in different ways for different groups is fully compatible with the lines of thought of Second Temple Judaism.

It seems that Paul envisioned two separate groups within the covenant; the Jewish disciples of Jesus who were expected to observe the Torah on the one hand, and the non-Jewish disciples of Jesus, included into the covenant through Jesus, but who were not to observe the Torah the same way Jews did, on the other: “This is my rule in all the churches. Was anyone at the time of his call already circumcised? Let him not seek to remove the marks of circumcision. Was anyone at the time of his call uncircumcised? Let him not seek circumcision” (1 Cor. 7:17-18). It may well have been the case that Paul considered belief in Jesus, the Messiah, as a necessary condition for remaining in the covenant also for Jews. Such eschatological exclusiveness was not unique to Paul, as seen, for instance, in the Qumran community, which also perceived itself as the only true remnant of Israel. Toward the end of his life, however, Paul had to contend with the fact that many of his fellow Jews had not embraced Jesus as the Messiah as he had hoped. In Romans 9–11, he develops the idea that this is the result of the divine plan and that God has temporarily rejected the Jewish people as part of his strategy to include the non-Jews into the covenant. In the end though, he affirms, all Israel will be saved (Rom. 11:26).^[43]

If the scholars of this new approach to Paul are at all correct, one may conclude that Paul came to be misunderstood very early. In a way similar to Jesus’ parables, a later Christian theology was read into his letters according to which God has rejected the Jews and replaced them with the church.

Fig. 8. Ruins of the Acropolis of ancient Corinth. Photograph by Dieter Mitternacht.

Paul and Jewish Biblical Interpretation

Paul, it seems, believed that through the life and death of Jesus, non-Jews could be incorporated into the covenant with Israel’s God without first becoming Jews. While the idea that non-Jews would in some way also be saved at the end of time (Isa. 2:2-4) was widespread in Second Temple Judaism, the idea of including non-Jewish disciples of Jesus into the covenant, giving them a status equal to that of the Jews, was not self-evident. From a Jewish point of view, the basic assumption was that one had to belong to the people of Israel in order to be part of the covenant, and accordingly the natural thing to do, if non-Jews were to be included, would have been to make them Jews. Thus, Paul faced a dilemma, since he believed that the rules had changed with Jesus (as they had previously been changed at Sinai), and that the non-Jews had a place in the covenant precisely as non-Jews. From the way he solves this predicament, it is evident that he shared the approach to the biblical text prevalent among Jewish interpreters of his time. In Rom. 4:1-12, he writes:

What then are we to say was gained by Abraham, our ancestor according to the flesh? For if Abraham was justified by works, he has something to boast about, but not before God. For what does the scripture say? Abraham trusted in God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness [Gen. 15:6] . . . Is this blessedness, then, pronounced only on the circumcised, or also on the uncircumcised? We say: “Trust [pistis] was reckoned to Abraham as righteousness.” How then was it reckoned to him? Was it before or after he had been circumcised? It was not after, but before he was circumcised. He received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the righteousness that he had by trust [pistis] while he was still uncircumcised. The purpose was to make him the ancestor of all who are faithful [patera pantōn tōn pisteuontōn] without being circumcised and who thus have righteousness reckoned to them, and likewise the ancestor of the circumcised who are not only circumcised but who also follow the example of the trust of our father Abraham before he was circumcised [tēs en akrobystia pisteōs tou patros hēmōn Abraam].^[44]

In order to find a theological solution that made it possible to include non-Jews in the covenant without making them Jews, Paul appeals to Gen. 15:6 and argues that Abraham, on account of his trust in God, was called righteous before he was circumcised (Gen. 17:9-27) and before the Torah was given at Sinai (Exod. 19–24).^[45] The rendering of pistis as “faithfulness” rather than the common translation “faith” is a consequence of the realization that the word in antiquity seems to refer less to an abstract, interior belief and more to specific character traits and resulting behavior. Accordingly, translations such as “faithfulness” or “trustworthiness” for pistis are more appropriate, as is “to trust” or “to be loyal” for the verb pisteuō. In this case, the “faithfulness of our father Abraham” likely stands for his trusting acceptance of and response to God’s promise of a son. Abraham’s trust thus brings about God’s gracious act of granting him descendants who will be blessed thanks to Abraham’s faithfulness.^[46]

Since trust in God is not dependent on circumcision or the Torah, the model of Abraham provides Paul with a solution to his problem. As descendants of Abraham, who was called righteous before he was circumcised and without observing the Torah because it was not yet given, the non-Jewish disciples of Jesus can enter into the covenant with Israel’s God on basis of their trust in God. In the fashion of the exegetes of his time, Paul attributes significance to the order of events in the biblical text, and we must assume that he considered his interpretation to be entirely justified and in accordance with the deeper meaning of the Torah. In Rom. 3:31, he says: “Do we then overthrow the law by this faith? By no means! On the contrary, we uphold the law.” Like any other ancient interpreter, he surely had an ulterior motive, but his assumptions about the biblical text also played an important part in the formation of his theology.

In Paul’s thinking, Abraham’s trust and God’s faithfulness are intertwined, an idea for which he may have found inspiration or support in the ambiguous formulation of Gen. 15:6: “He put his trust in God and he reckoned it to him as righteousness.” This could be understood to mean that God considered Abraham righteous on account of his trust, but since it is not clear from the Hebrew text who the subject of the second phrase is, it could also be taken to mean that Abraham trusted in God and considered him, God, righteous or faithful. The Septuagint reflects this ambiguity of the Hebrew and could likewise be read either way. The fact that Paul, as he quotes the verse in Rom. 4:3, obviously understands it to mean that God reckoned Abraham’s trust as righteousness does not mean that he was not also aware of the other possible understanding. Irrespective of which understanding is more plausible, a “rabbinic” mode of reading could easily exploit the textual ambiguity, reading it both ways in order to make a theological point.

Indeed, in Gal. 3:6-9, Paul seems to understand pistis with regard to both Abraham and God, saying that Abraham put his trust in God and out of faithfulness God has found a way to make the non-Jews righteous also: “Just as Abraham trusted in God [episteusen tō theō] and it was reckoned to him as righteousness [Gen 15:6; Rom 4:3] so you know that those who descend from faithfulness [hoi ek pisteōs], these are the sons of Abraham. The scripture, having foreseen that God would justify the gentiles out of faithfulness [ek pisteōs], proclaimed the good news beforehand to Abraham that, All the peoples of the earth will be blessed in you [Gen. 12:3, 18:18]. For this reason, those who descend from faithfulness [hoi ek pisteōs] are blessed with the faithful Abraham [syn tō pistō Abraam].”^[47] The translation of hoi ek pisteōs in (Gal. 3:7) as “those who come out of faithfulness,” rather than the common “those who believe,” reflects the understanding of pistis as “faithfulness” and takes into account the preposition ek, which often means “come out of” or “spring from.”^[48]

In Paul’s reading, Scripture foretold that non-Jews would be justified “out of faithfulness”—Abraham’s and God’s. Johnson Hodge, however, argues that this faithfulness refers also, and even specifically, to Christ’s faithfulness, which Paul tells us elsewhere is responsible for the justification of the non-Jews (Gal. 2:16; Rom. 3:22, 26). Paul understands Christ’s faithfulness (pistis Christou) as his willingness and ability to carry out God’s plan for his death and resurrection. According to this understanding, it is not the believer’s faith in Christ that makes him or her righteous, but rather Christ’s faithful obedience to God’s plan. Through his death and resurrection, Christ brings about God’s righteousness.^[49] However, one might add that although the faithfulness of Christ is surely the main point, faith in the sense of trust is required from humans also. Echoing the double meaning of pistis in the Abraham story, the faithfulness of Christ is a replica of God’s faithfulness, and just as Abraham trusted God’s promises, the Jesus disciples must put their trust in Christ. In Paul’s thinking, for non-Jewish disciples of Jesus to trust Christ likely means to have confidence that their inclusion into the covenant on the basis of Jesus’ death and resurrection really works and that accordingly, there is no need for them to imitate Jewish Torah observance.

In Gal. 3:16-17, Paul again interprets scripture in a way akin to what we find in rabbinic literature. Exploiting the fact that the promises were made to Abraham’s offspring in the singular (Gen. 12:7), he argues that “offspring” refers to Christ: “Now the promises were made to Abraham and to his offspring. It does not say, ‘And to offsprings,’ as of many; but it says, ‘And to your offspring,’ that is, to one person, who is Christ. My point is this: the law, which came four hundred thirty years later, does not annul a covenant previously ratified by God, so as to nullify the promise.” The covenant between God and Israel at Sinai, of which the Torah is the sign cannot annul God’s previous promise made to Abraham, Paul argues, and therefore the non-Jews must not become Jews. The promise made to Abraham is good for all his descendants, “not only the one who comes out of the Law [ek tou nomou] but also for the one who comes out of the faithfulness of Abraham [ek pisteōs Abraam]” (Rom. 4:16).

Non-Jews and the Torah—Different Approaches

As within other Jewish groups, there seem to have been various different views on how Jews were to relate to non-Jews within the Jesus movement and how the latter were to relate to the Torah. One was the Pauline view, according to which non-Jewish disciples of Jesus had a place in the covenant as non-Jews, on a par with the Jews, but without being obliged to observe all of the Torah’s commandments as were Jews. This must be understood in a context in which it was probably taken for granted that the non-Jews would adapt, or more likely, had already adapted, to Jewish food regulations and were expected to keep the more general ethic commandments of the Torah. What exactly Paul had in mind when he warned non-Jewish disciples of Jesus against law observance is not altogether clear, but apparently the Torah, in his view, was not the sign of the covenant for non-Jews the way it was for Jews.

As is evident from Acts 15, others, however, considered it necessary for non-Jewish disciples of Jesus to become Torah-observant Jews in order to be included in the covenant with Israel’s God: “Then certain individuals came down from Judea and were teaching the brothers, ‘Unless you are circumcised according to the custom of Moses, you cannot be saved,’” and further in verse 5: “But some believers who belonged to the sect of the Pharisees stood up and said, ‘It is necessary for them to be circumcised and ordered to keep the law of Moses.’” Possibly, the original community of Matthew was made up of a group holding similar views.

There may also have been a third view, whose proponents wanted to include the non-Jews in the covenant without requiring them to convert to Judaism, but expected them to keep as many of the Torah’s commandments as possible. Such a position may be reflected in the Didache, a text that was probably redacted around the turn of the first century C.E.^[50] It is considered one of the most important literary witnesses of the Jesus movement outside of the New Testament, but it appears to originally have been a Jewish text designed to give instructions to non-Jewish disciples of Jesus, as indicated by its full title: “The teaching of the Lord through the twelve apostles to the Gentiles [tois ethnesin].” Didache 6:2–3 reads: “For you can bear the entire yoke of the Lord [holon ton zygon tou kyriou], you will be perfect; but if you cannot, do as much as you can. And concerning food, bear what you can. But especially abstain from food sacrificed to idols; for this is a ministry to dead gods.”

This passage seems to represent an adjustment to the perspective of non-Jewish disciples of Jesus, who were perhaps not capable of bearing the entire “yoke of the Lord” and may have had difficulties in observing all of the Jewish dietary laws. While it has been suggested that the phrase “the Lord’s yoke” refers to Jesus’ teachings in the Sermon on the Mount, it seems more likely to understand it as referring to the Torah as interpreted by Jesus (cf. Matt. 11:28-30). The Torah in rabbinic literature is quite often referred to as a “yoke,”^[51] so it is natural to understand it in this sense here also. If this saying originated or was adopted in a milieu where the Torah was still faithfully observed by Jewish adherents to the Jesus movement, it would be an appeal to non-Jewish Jesus disciples to observe the Torah as far as they can.^[52] As we will presently see, Paul and the Didache’s respective views of how non-Jews are to relate to the Torah roughly correspond to rabbinic views as known to us from tannaitic literature.

The Non-Jew in Early Rabbinic Judaism

In recent years, attention has been drawn to the fact that tannaitic literature seems to reflect two different approaches to how non-Jews are to relate to the Torah, associated with the schools of Rabbi Ishmael and Rabbi Aqiva, respectively. According to the position attributed to Rabbi Aqiva, the Torah is God’s exclusive gift to the Jewish people and reserved for them only, while the approach associated with Rabbi Ishmael held that God had intended the Torah for all peoples. The Aqivan position would ultimately dominate, but in tannaitic times the two views apparently coexisted. The fact that the Torah was not revealed in the land of Israel, but rather in the desert, a public place, is taken by the Mekhilta as evidence that it was intended for all nations: “[Israel] encamped in the wilderness [Exod. 19:2]. The Torah was given in public, openly in a free place. For had the Torah been given in the land of Israel, the Israelites could have said to the nations of the world: ‘You have no share in it.’ But now that it was given in the wilderness publicly and openly in a place that is free to all, everyone wishing to accept it could come and accept it.”^[53]

The proponents of this view probably welcomed proselytes, but they also seem to have encouraged non-Jews to keep the commandments without assuming their conversion. In Mekhilta de-Arayot, preserved in Sifra but generally considered to be an independent literary unit from the school of Rabbi Ishmael, a non-Jew who observes the Torah is compared to the high priest:

You shall keep my laws and my rules, and by doing them man [’adam]shall live [Lev. 18:5]. Rabbi Yirmia used to say: “How do we know that even a non-Jew who ‘does Torah’ [‘oseh torah] is like the high priest? Scripture says, by doing [this] man shall live [Lev. 18:5]. Priests, Levites, and Israelites it does not say here [rather Scripture says ‘man’]. And likewise it says, this is the Torah of man [ve-zot torat ha-’adam] [2 Sam 7:19]. Priests, Levites, and Israelites it does not say here. And likewise it says, Open the gates, and let . . . [Isa. 26:2]. Priests, Levites, and Israelites it does not say here, rather, Open the gates, and let a righteous nation [goy tsaddiq] enter, [a nation] that keeps faith [Isa. 26:2].^[54]

The midrash emphasizes that none of the quoted verses mentions priests, Levites, or Israelites, the three groups that make up the people of Israel. Rather, it simply says “a person” [’adam], thereby asserting that the Torah is not for Israel only but for all humanity, and to highlight this point a non-Jew who “does Torah” is compared to the high priest, who enjoys the highest status possible. While the expression “do Torah” [‘oseh torah] can mean either “study Torah” or “fulfill the commandments,” it is used in tannaitic literature in the latter sense.^[55] Thus, according to this approach, attributed to Rabbi Ishmael, non-Jews may observe the Torah and it is considered meritorious for them to do so.^[56] In direct contrast to this idea, we find in Sifre Deut §345 the view that the Torah is betrothed to Israel and is like a married woman in relation to non-Jews:

[Moses gave us the Torah] as the heritage of the congregation of Jacob [Deut. 33:4]. Read not “heritage” [morashah] but “betrothed” [me’orashah], showing that the Torah is betrothed to Israel and has therefore the status of a married woman in relation to the nations of the world, as it is said, Can a man rake embers into his bosom without burning his clothes? Can a man walk on live coals without scorching his feet? It is the same with one who sleeps with his fellow’s wife; none who touches her will go unpunished [Prov. 6:27-29].

Instead of reading “heritage” (morashah), the Sifre turns it into the similar-sounding Hebrew word for “betrothed” (me’orashah), asserting that the Torah is reserved for Israel only. At Sinai the Torah was given as a sign of the monogamous relationship into which God and Israel had entered, and as a result, non-Jewish involvement with the Torah outside of a legally defined commitment to it is comparable to adultery. The “nations” referred to are non-Jews, quite possibly disciples of Jesus, some of whom studied the Torah and observed the commandments but did not submit to the rabbinic interpretation of it.^[57]

Thus, interpretations asserting that the Torah was intended for all nations seem to have originated in the school of Rabbi Ishmael (Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael and Sifre to Numbers), while those claiming that the Torah is for Israel only derive from the school of Rabbi Aqiva (Sifra and Sifre to Deuteronomy). As we noted in chapter three, this division into two schools has received renewed support in recent scholarship on midrash.^[58] Rabbi Ishmael was a priest according to rabbinic sources, and even if one should be careful not to draw too far-reaching conclusions from this information, it is not unlikely that such universalistic ideas flourished in priestly circles. The priestly sources of the Torah are among the most hospitable to the stranger (ger) and consistent with the universalism of Isaiah (40–66), who envisioned a Judaism open to all. Interestingly, this universalism is not at all messianic or eschatological.^[59]

Although too brief to allow any firm conclusions, the Didache’s appeal to non-Jews to keep as many commandments as they can possibly reveals an approach similar to that of the school of Rabbi Ishmael. By contrast, Paul seems to combine an interest in the salvation of non-Jews with the view of the Torah as belonging exclusively to Israel, similar to the position of the school of Rabbi Aqiva.^[60] Paul was a Pharisee, and although the suggestion is admittedly speculative, it would not be unreasonable to imagine that the view of the Torah as the exclusive property of the Jewish people was prevalent in Pharisaic circles.^[61]

Not surprisingly, the Noachide laws—commandments that were considered binding for non-Jews who were not full members of the Jewish community—figure quite prominently in the Rabbi Aqiva midrashim, while the term is never explicitly mentioned in the Rabbi Ishmael midrashim.^[62] The exact content of these laws varies, but an early list appears in t. Avod. Zar. 8:4: “Seven commandments were given to the children of Noah: to establish courts of law, [they are forbidden to engage in] idolatry, blasphemy, fornication, bloodshed, theft . . . and the eating of flesh cut from a living beast” (8:6). Quite possibly the Apostolic Decree, which commands non-Jewish disciples of Jesus to abstain from “things polluted by idols and from fornication and from whatever has been strangled and from blood” (Acts 15:20), is an early version of the Noachide commandments.^[63] These rules were apparently a minimum requirement that the non-Jewish disciples of Jesus had to keep in order to coexist with Jews in the same community of Jesus disciples.

Thus, Paul and the Didache may represent two different understandings of or reactions to the Apostolic Decree. For the author of Did. 6:2-3, for whom full Torah observance on the part of non-Jews was apparently desirable, the Apostolic Decree might have defined the minimum standard for non-Jewish Jesus disciples, while for Paul, who was anxious to dissuade them from Torah observance, it may actually have constituted both a maximum and a minimum—a minimum requirement of what non-Jews had to do, and a maximum of what they were allowed to do. Paul’s vision of two separate categories within the covenant presumes that the difference between Jews and non-Jews is upheld, not unlike the school of Rabbi Aqiva, but if the non-Jews observe the commandments like the Jews, this difference would be blurred. In any case, he seems to have shared their view of the Torah as reserved for Israel only.^[64]

Thus, if Jesus and Paul are placed in the context of the diversity within Second Temple Judaism, and seen in the light of subsequent schools of thought in early rabbinic Judaism, new perspectives emerge. During the first century, the dividing line was between Jews and non-Jews rather than between Jews and Christians, since Christianity did not yet exist independently of Judaism. For the Jewish disciples of Jesus, the major question seems to have been how Jews were to relate to non-Jews within the Jesus movement and how the latter were to relate to the Torah. Some of these approaches, it seems, are represented by Paul, Matthew, and the Didache.

However, none of these early visions was implemented by the Christian church. When, after some time, non-Jewish Christians became the majority, the problem became reversed and a completely new model developed, in which non-Jews were the norm and Jewishness and Torah observance were perceived as the problem. It is this later situation that has long been the starting point for Pauline scholarship, but the fresh insights that emerge from recent scholarship are slowly changing the picture. Some ideas that originated as polemical claims, or even misconceptions, unfortunately came to be understood as timeless theological truths and thus significantly shaped subsequent Christian tradition. If their polemical origin is recognized, we will be in a better position to liberate Christianity from its anti-Jewish elements and recognize that they need not be an integral part of Christian tradition.

Study Questions

1. What is the significance of recognizing the similarities between rabbinic and Gospel parables?

2. Which important insights have paved the way for a different understanding of Jesus and Paul?

3. How do the views of non-Jews and their relationship to the Torah evidenced in the New Testament and early Christian writings fit into Jewish theological ideas about non-Jews and the Torah as evidenced in early rabbinic literature?

4. What are the major differences between the new perspectives on Paul and the traditional one?

Suggestions for Further Reading

Becker, E. M., and Runesson, A., eds. Mark and Matthew: Comparative Readings I: Understanding the Earliest Gospels in Their First-Century Settings. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011.

Overman, A. J. Matthew’s Gospel and Formative Judaism: The Social World of the Matthean Community. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1990.

Sanders, E. P. Paul and Palestinian Judaism: A Comparison of Patterns of Religion. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977.

Thoma, C., and M. Wyschogrod, eds. Parable and Story in Judaism and Christianity. New York: Paulist, 1989.

Tomson, P. J. “If This Be from Heaven”: Jesus and the New Testament Authors in Their Relationship to Judaism. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001.

Young, B. H. The Parables: Jewish Tradition and Christian Interpretation. Peabody: Hendrickson, 1998.

Zetterholm, M. Approaches to Paul: A Student’s Guide to Recent Scholarship. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009.

 

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1. For a survey of this distorted picture of Judaism and its influence on New Testament scholarship, see Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul, 60–90.↵
2. For instance, C. G. Montefiore, G. F. Moore, J. Klausner, D. Flusser, W. D. Davies, and G. Vermes.↵
3. Sanders, Paul, 1–426.↵
4. See Young, Parables, 7.↵
5. See, for instance, John Chrysostom, Hom. Matt. 68.1 (the Wicked Tenants) and 69.1 (the Wedding Banquet) and Irenaeus, Haer. 4.36 and Origen, Cels. 2.5 (the Wicked Tenants), and the survey in Milavec, “Fresh Analysis,” 81–86.↵
6. For such a comparative study, see Young, Parables.↵
7. Flusser, Rabbinischen Gleichnisse.↵
8. Stern, “Jesus’ Parables,” 43–44; Young, Parables, 3–38.↵
9. In Jewish tradition, King Solomon is considered the author of the book of Ecclesiastes, see Eccl. 1:1. My interpretation of this parable is based on Jonah Fraenkel’s course on parables in the Babylonian Talmud at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in the spring semester of 1992.↵
10. On the urgent need to always be prepared for the unknown time of death or final judgment in Gospel and rabbinic parables, see Young, Parables, 278–83.↵
11. Young, Parables, 277.↵
12. Overman, Matthew’s Gospel; Runesson, “Re-Thinking Early Jewish-Christian Relations,” 95–132; Saldarini, Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community; Saldarini, “Gospel of Matthew”; Sim, Gospel of Matthew; Tomson, From Heaven.↵
13. Young, Parables, 171–75.↵
14. For a comprehensive analysis, see Kloppenborg, Tenants in the Vineyard, 174–201.↵
15. See for instance Isa. 2:21 and Hos. 10:1.↵
16. Luke 20:19 reads: “the scribes and the chief priests.” Matthew has added the Pharisees, probably an indication of his conflict with this particular group.↵
17. Stern, “Jesus’ Parables,” 65, and Lowe quoted in Fitzmyer, Gospel according to Luke, 1278. Stern analyzes the Markan version of the parable and Lowe the Lukan.↵
18. Milavec, “Fresh Analysis,” 99–104.↵
19. Ibid., 81–117; Stern, “Jesus’ Parables,” 42–80.↵
20. Stern, “Jesus’ Parables,” 65–66.↵
21. “The kingdom of heaven” appears 31 times in Matthew, while “the kingdom of God” only appears 4 times.↵
22. See Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3:186; Zetterholm, Formation of Christianity, 211–16. For a different view, see Runesson, “Matthew’s Gospel,” 133–51, who argues that Matthew uses the word “ethnos” (people) in the sense of “group” rather than “people” and the kingdom of God as referring to Israel. Thus, in his view, the Matthean version also reflects an entirely inner-Jewish debate and Matthew, like Mark, is simply saying that Israel will be given a new leadership. See also Kloppenborg, Tenants in the Vineyard, 191–97.↵
23. See also Matt. 5:47, 6:32, 18:17.↵
24. See also Matt. 10:18, 24:14. There seems to be an emerging consensus that the Gospel of Matthew reflects the development of at least one group of Jesus disciples from being a part of Judaism to becoming a non-Jewish church; see for instance Saldarini, “Gospel of Matthew,” 23–38; Sim, Gospel of Matthew, 2–9; Zetterholm, Formation of Christianity, 211–16.↵
25. Keturah was one of Abraham’s wives according to Gen. 25:1.↵
26. Sifre Deut §312.↵
27. Stern, “Jesus’ Parables,” 60–63.↵
28. Sifre Deut §343; Mekh. R. Ishmael Bahodesh 5 (Lauterbach, 2:234–37. For later versions of this narrative, see b. Avod. Zar. 2a–2b; Exod. Rab. 27.9; Lev. Rab. 13.2; Num. Rab. 14.10; Pirqe R. Eliezer 40 (Friedlander 41); Targ. Ps.-J. andTarg. Neof. on Deut. 33:2.↵
29. On this claim, see Simon, Verus Israel, 65–97.↵
30. This is the understanding of the midrash. The meaning of the Hebrew is uncertain.↵
31. Songs Rab. 7.3. An older version is found in Gen. Rab. 83.5.↵
32. Tanh. Ki Tissa 34. My translation. See also Tanh. Vayyera 6 (ed. Buber); Exod. Rab. 47.1; Pes. Rabb. 5.↵
33. See Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul, 127–63; Gager, Reinventing Paul, 43–75.↵
34. Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul, 35–40.↵
35. Sanders, Paul, 431–552.↵
36. For a survey of the new perspective on Paul, see Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul, 95–126.↵
37. Murray, Jewish Game, 11–41, and Kimelman, “Identifying Jews, ” 301–33.↵
38. For a survey of a variety of ways of relating to Judaism by non-Jews, see Cohen, Beginnings, 141–62.↵
39. Zetterholm, “Missing Messiah,” 43–46.↵
40. See, for example, Tucker, Remain in Your Calling.↵
41. Nanos, Mystery of Romans, 184.↵
42. Gaston, Paul and the Torah, 100–106; Stowers, Rereading of Romans, 176–93; Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul, 127–63.↵
43. Zetterholm, “Abraham Believed,” 115. For a survey of the so-called radical new perspective on Paul, see Zetterholm, Approaches to Paul, 127–63. Among the representatives of this approach are Eisenbaum, Paul Was Not a Christian; Nanos, Irony of Galatians; Nanos, Mystery of Romans; Runesson, “Re-Thinking Early Jewish-Christian Relations,” 59–92; Tomson, Paul and the Jewish Law.↵
44. Translation modified based on Johnson Hodge, If Sons, 82–83.↵
45. Zetterholm, “Abraham Believed,” 112–15.↵
46. Johnson Hodge, If Sons, 82–84.↵
47. Translation modified based on Johnson Hodge, If Sons, 84.↵
48. Ibid., 79–82, 84–86.↵
49. Ibid., 85–90. See also Hays, Faith, 161–62.↵
50. Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 48.↵
51. See for instance m. Avot 3:5; b. Sanh. 94b (the yoke of the Torah); m. Ber. 2:2 (the yoke of the kingdom of heaven and the yoke of the commandments).↵
52. Draper, “Troublesome Apostles,” 360–65; Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 240–43. On the various approaches within the early Jesus movement, see also Flusser, “Jewish-Christian Opponents,” 195–211; Zetterholm, “Didache,” 73–90.↵
53. Mekhilta R. Ishmael Bahodesh 1 (Lauterbach, 2:198).↵
54. Sifra on Lev. 18:1–5. My translation.↵
55. Hirshman, “Rabbinic Universalism,” 108.↵
56. Hirshman, “Rabbinic Universalism,” 101–15. See also Flusser, “Jewish-Christian Opponents,” 204–5; Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 266–67.↵
57. Fraade, Tradition, 57–58.↵
58. See Yadin, Scripture as Logos, x–xii.↵
59. Hirshman, “Rabbinic Universalism,” 108; Yadin, Scripture as Logos, 165–67.↵
60. Zetterholm, “Missing Messiah,” 55; Zetterholm, “Jews, Christians, and Gentiles,” 250.↵
61. Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 269.↵
62. Hirshman, “Rabbinic Universalism,” 112.↵
63. In addition to 15:20, the Apostolic Decree is quoted in Acts 15:28-29 and 21:25. The earliest extant text that connects the figure of Noah to a universal ethic that is binding upon the children of Noah is Jub. 7:20-21 (second century B.C.E.).↵
64. Flusser, “Jewish-Christian Opponents,” 195–211; Sandt and Flusser, Didache, 238–70; Zetterholm, “Didache,” 73–90, and Zetterholm, “Missing Messiah,” 33–35.↵