The Historical Foundation for the Passion Narratives
The Historical Foundation for the Passion Narratives
The extreme skepticism expressed by the most radical scholars is surely unwarranted. Burton Mack, for instance, suggests that most scholars have simply gone easy on the passion narratives from faith prejudice.20 Nevertheless, he shows little familiarity with the evidence cited by such “prejudicial” scholarship,21 and in dismissing previous scholarship on the passion narratives as uncritical seems unaware of his predecessors who have focused critical attention on the passion narratives.22 (Mack himself curiously reads the passion narrative more in light of subsequent western history than in light of ancient urban politics.)23
In contrast to Mack’s position, we have no record of any form of Christianity where the basic structure of the kerygma was missing, whether or not Christians had yet constructed full passion narratives.24 Other narratives may have figured as much in early Christian ethical preaching, but it is likely that early Christians would have told and retold the passion story, which lay at the heart of their kerygma, and that the Gospel writers would have here a variety of oral and perhaps written traditions from which to draw.25 Thus Paul has a passion sequence similar to Mark’s (1 Cor 11:23; 15:3-5), and if, as is probable, John represents an independent tradition,26 it is significant that his passion narrative again confirms the outline that Mark follows, conceivably supporting a pre-Markan passion narrative.27 In preaching one could flesh out the full sequence or omit some of the stories, but the basic outline would remain the same.28
Most scholars think that “Q” lacked a passion narrative. But for all we know, as Bart Ehrman points out, Q could “have had a passion narrative; we simply can’t know.”29 If multiple versions were available, the Gospel writers would not be bound to any particular one; “Q” could even be one of Mark’s sources, as possibly elsewhere.30 Most scholars who doubt that Q had a passion narrative do not infer from this doubt the premise that Q opposed a passion narrative.31 Yet as we noted in ch. 4, a few scholars argue from the possible silence in Q that what Q (possibly) lacked, its community did not believe in.
But how could a community believe Jesus’ teachings yet ignore his martyrdom? Because some composed dialogues of Socrates, and most of these dialogues do not mention Socrates’ death, ought we to doubt that they cared about his martyrdom? Such a supposition does not make sense with other documents in antiquity. This incoherence prompts me to wonder whether some New Testament scholars get away with compounded speculations only because we treat our discipline as purely subjective, so that if enough scholars claim something it becomes a “likely” position, regardless of whether any concrete evidence supports it.
In fact more positive evidence favors the substantial reliability of the passion narratives. Theissen argues for the most part (and sufficiently) persuasively that the pre-Markan passion narrative as a whole was in use by A.D. 40 in Jerusalem and Judea.32 Thus, for example, Mark preserves names (such as the sons that identify the second Mary and Simon) that serve no recognizable function in his own narrative — but that may well have been recognizable to those who transmitted his early Jerusalem source (Mk 15:21, 40).33 Place names like Nazareth, Magdala, and Arimathea would mean nothing to audiences outside Palestine.34 (Regarding Mary Magdalene, who would invent an origin in Magdala? A Magdala appears often enough in later rabbinic sources,35 but it was not known by this name outside Palestine.)36
Although one normally identifies local persons through their father’s name, most persons in the passion narrative (which identifies more people “than elsewhere in the synoptic tradition”) are identified by their place of origin instead. This practice makes the most sense in the church’s first generation in Jerusalem, when (and where) its leading figures were people from elsewhere.37 Mark presumes his audience’s prior knowledge of Pilate and (more significantly) Barabbas and other insurrectionists, despite Pilate’s confrontations with a wide array of revolutionaries.38 Finally, some central characters in the account remain anonymous, probably to protect living persons who could face criminal charges in Jerusalem, fitting other ancient examples of protective anonymity.39 Taken together, these arguments seem persuasive.40
Evidence does suggest that Mark edited his passion narrative,41 but such editing no more denies the authenticity of the prior tradition than frequent rewriting of sources by any other ancient author, including the writers of the Gospels elsewhere;42 thus, for example, Matthew and Luke may agree against Mark at points (e.g., Mk 14:72; Matt 26:75//Lk 22:61).43 Independent tradition drawn on by Matthew, Luke and John preserves the name of the high priest, but Mark may follow the oldest passion account in omitting his name for political prudence, though Pilate, now deposed and despised, could easily be named in this period.44 Where John’s passion narrative diverges from the Synoptics, it sometimes displays special Johannine interests. At the same time, D. Moody Smith argues that some of its divergences, like Jesus carrying his own cross or the legs of the crucified men being broken, appear more historically likely than the Synoptics. 45 Thus one should not rule out historical tradition even in John’s passion narrative.
Another line of evidence also supports the substantial reliability of the picture of Jesus’ execution found in the passion narrative: it fits what we know of the period in question. Thus Craig Evans compares Josephus’ account of Joshua ben Hananiah, who similarly entered the Temple area during a festival.46 Like Jesus, he spoke of doom for Jerusalem, the sanctuary and the people, even referring (again like Jesus) to the context of Jeremiah’s prophecy of judgment against the Temple.47 The Jewish leaders arrested and beat Joshua48 and handed him over to the Roman governor,49 who interrogated him.50 He refused to answer the governor,51 was scourged,52 and — in this case unlike Jesus (though cf. Mk 15:9) — released.53 The different outcome is not difficult to account for: unlike Joshua, Jesus of Nazareth was not viewed as insane and already had a band of followers, plus a growing reputation that could support messianic claims.54 Joshua ben Hananiah could be simply punished in an attempt to deter his continued antisocial behavior; Jesus of Nazareth had to be executed.