Notes to Chapter 1
Notes to Chapter 1
1 Crossan, Historical Jesus, xxvii.
2 Though some scholars cite “consensus” by ignoring other scholars; cf. the warning in Poirier, “Consensus,” that scholars too often use “consensus” as a rhetorical substitute for an argument.
3 On the Nazi portrait of Jesus as non-Jewish and Aryan, see Head, “Nazi Quest”; Poewe, Religions and Nazis; Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 163.
4 On whom see e.g., Paget, “Quests,” 141.
5 On Schweitzer, Quest, see Weaver, Historical Jesus, 25-44; more briefly, Heyer, Jesus Matters, 33-39; Anderson, Jesus and Origins, 18-22; Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 5-7; Herzog, Jesus, 4-8.
6 On Reimarus, see Schweitzer, Quest, 14-26; Heyer, Jesus Matters, 21-23; Mullin, History, 167; Brown, Miracles, 107-10.
7 Charlesworth, “Adumbrations,” x (noting Matthew Tindal, 1655-1733). Earlier, cf. John Lightfoot, writing in the 1600s (reprinted as Lightfoot, Talmud).
8 Schweitzer, Quest, 39-44.
9 Schweitzer, Quest, 44-45.
10 For the “rational” phase, see especially Schweitzer, Quest, 27-67. Schweitzer thinks that Strauss (68-95) went too far; he also notes how others, like Bruno Bauer, out of his hatred for theologians, ended up unable to grapple with the history of Jesus at all (157). On Strauss, see further Heyer, Jesus Matters, 24-25; Paget, “Quests,” 143; Rössler, “Mensch.”
11 Schweitzer, Quest, e.g., 66-67.
12 Schweizer, Quest, 191. For Romantics like Renan (treated in Quest, 180-92), the thrill of recognition identified authenticity. On the “liberal lives,” see further Heyer, Jesus Matters, 25-32; Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 5; Paget, “Quests,” 143-45. Some have observed that the tendency to read all literary works on the analogy of (modern) novels stems from the Romantic period (Malina and Pilch, Acts, 3-5).
13 Schweitzer, Quest, 326: “They have scarcely altered since Venturini’s time, except that some of the cures performed by Jesus” are now treated through modern research on “hypnotism and suggestion.”
14 Although Harnack recognized the distinction between apologetics and historical inquiry, he objected to the former primarily because it defended something less than the true faith (Christianity, 7).
15
Christianity, 149-50, 158. In keeping with his era’s values, he emphasizes spiritual devotion (259) and morally active religion (308).
16
Christianity, 282. His belief that early Christians expected a higher form of Christianity to emerge (11) assumes that his own brand fits that expectation. He was less optimistic about the spirit of Eastern Orthodoxy (e.g., 244) and certainly Roman Catholicism (e.g., 263, 267).
17 Though following Luther’s own approach of effectively finding a canon within the canon (Christianity, 292; cf. Poland, Criticism, 19-20), Harnack does not seem to mind that Luther would not have accepted his ready reduction of the essential gospel (Christianity, 14-15) to ethics (70).
18
Christianity, 56.
19 E.g., Christianity, 127.
20 E.g., Christianity, 139. Harnack recognized the limits of the historical method (Christianity, 18), and historical method was admittedly not his primary focus in this work.
21
Christianity, 21, thus preferring the Synoptics to John (though scholars today, who also usually prefer the Synoptics at most points, usually view John as one of the most Jewish Gospels; e.g., Smith, “Learned,” 218-22; Charlesworth, “Scrolls and Gospel”; idem, “Reinterpreting”; Martyn, “Religionsgeschichte”; Davies, “Aspects”; Braine, “Jewishness”; Flusser, Judaism, 23-24).
22
Christianity, 201. He allows that Jesus preserved positive aspects of Jewish thought in his teaching (Christianity, 47-48).
23
Christianity, 16, 176.
24
Christianity, 162.
25
Christianity, 160.
26
Christianity, 12.
27
Christianity, 240.
28 See e.g., Christianity, 55, 114, 127.
29 For some observations regarding anti-Jewish perspectives in Harnack’s work, see Cohen, “Mission and Expansion.”
30 Heyer, Jesus Matters, 45-47, noting that others now emphasized Jesus as a model of sacrifice. Barth’s neoorthodoxy flourished on the same sort of soil that undercut liberalism.
31 Sometimes not as devastating as it could have been. Thus he notes that Reimarus treated his own view as the only one possible (Schweitzer, Quest, 19-20); offered a reconstruction contradicting most sources (20-21); had disciples dying for a lie (21); and so forth, yet charitably finds Reimarus’ “sole mistake” as political eschatology. Despite Venturini’s naïve acceptance of a providentially exorbitant proportion of coincidences in Jesus’ life and unwarranted confidence in the power of ancient physicians, Schweitzer is loath to quickly condemn this approach (57).
32
Von Reimarus zu Wrede: Eine Geschichte der Leben-Jesu-Forschung, translated (and referred to here) as Quest. He distrusts psychologizing exegesis (Quest, 311, 400); totemizing Jesus to represent modern values (312, 329); and faulty lines of reasoning about Jesus’ claims (342; but cf. 259).
33 Any one missing Jesus’ apocalyptic thinking might be at best a brilliant digression from evolutionary progress toward the modern (i.e., Schweitzer’s) view (135). He places his own work in historical context so that it can better guide contemporary theology (159; cf. 182), and repeatedly laments the lack of tolerance historically accorded new ideas (e.g., 166-67). Nevertheless, he regards his own writing as scientific rather than popular (191). He regards his historical “either-or’s” (e.g., 238) as signs of progress, but forced-choice logic often leads to erroneous conclusions.
34 See the critique in Wink, “Write,” 9; from a different perspective, Fiorenza, Politics; Marsh, “Quests.”
35 Even Weiss, while recognizing some of Jesus’ radical demands (Proclamation, 107-8), reapplied kingdom imagery (131-32) for a noneschatological society (135; but cf. 136)
36 He incorporated critical conclusions from his era’s scholarship into his methodology, although not always consistently; he respected the Markan hypothesis and Q (Proclamation, 60) and avoided arguing from the Fourth Gospel (60, 64; but cf. 95-96). While regarding Matthew as late and too catholic (60), thus excluding evidence from Matt 13 (p. 61) and 25 (p. 62), he often uses M or L material as if they were as reliable as Mark (e.g., 72-73, 105). He treats Paul as later than Mark’s tradition (88), but wrote when Paul was considered less genuinely Jewish, and Mark less genuinely creative, than is now usually believed.
37 Especially in his work’s first edition, he reacted against Albrecht Ritschl’s liberal theology that essentially identified God’s kingdom with the church; cf. e.g., Proclamation, 68-69.
38 In Daniel and 1 Enoch, Proclamation, 116. In Weiss’s thinking, Jesus expected to become the Son of man, but only God could intervene to bring the kingdom (82-83).
39
Proclamation, 85.
40
Proclamation, 91.
41 He does occasionally concede the force of both elements of the tradition (Proclamation, 67, 73, 74). Moreover, while he denies that there are phases to the kingdom (it is either here or not here, 73), he admits the presence of the kingdom in the breaking of Satan’s power (76-79). The parables of Mk 4 and other early tradition invite more respect for the presence of the kingdom in Jesus’ teaching than Weiss allows.
42 For example, the kingdom is only “near so as to be touching” in Matt 12:28 (Proclamation, 66); other language is merely hypothetical (71).
43
Proclamation, 69. He also contends that repentance as a prerequisite for the kingdom (the corresponding lack of which could delay the kingdom) was a later development in Jesus’ thought (Proclamation, 86), though that view appears commonly enough in ancient Jewish sources (cf. Jub. 23:26-27; Test. Dan. 6:4; Sipre Deut. 43.16.3; p. Taan. 1:1, §7; possibly Test. Mos. 1:18).
44
Proclamation, 128. Weiss believed that the title of Messiah was to be given to Jesus after his exaltation, not during his earthly ministry (121).
45
Proclamation, 115.
46 E.g., Sir 23:1; Wisd 2:16; 3 Macc 5:7; 6:8; 7:6; m. Sot. 9:15; tos. Ber. 3:14; B.K. 7:6; Hag. 2:1; Peah 4:21; Sipra Qed. pq. 9.207.2.13; Behuq. pq. 8.269.2.15; Sipre Deut. 352.1.2.
47 He accepted Mark’s temporal priority (87-88). He rejected the use of John alongside the Synoptics (125, 324-25), though partly because it was “written from the Greek standpoint” (6; cf. 35), an assertion with which most Johannine scholars today would take issue, as we have noted.
48 He objected to the extreme conclusions some drew from Markan priority; took the Matthean redaction context of Mk 13 material as original (361); and leaned heavily on an M saying (Matt 10:23; 360) — though scholars today do not follow his approach to Matt 10 (see Heyer, Jesus Matters, 48). His criticism of Wrede’s “literary” approach (Schweitzer, Quest, 331) was short-sighted and deprived him of a valuable ally; Schweitzer viewed the Gospels not as literary works (6) but as gathering disjointed traditions (47, 394; this was an unfortunate “either-or”). He rightly demands observations grounded in the text (353), though his observations are sometimes not (e.g., that at one stage Jesus expects his tribulation to replace that of the disciples, 389).
49
Quest, 34.
50
Quest, 387. He thinks that Jesus probably did draw on Daniel for the “Son of man,” consistent with the later Similitudes (282).
51
Quest, 223. He could not recognize apocalyptic and “legalistic” perspectives coexisting (Quest, 290); he lacks firsthand acquaintance with rabbinic (367) and other ancient Jewish sources. He does at least recognize some diversity in ancient Judaism, placing both Jesus and John in that context (368); but some of his ideas about Messiahship (e.g., 375) rest on fragmentary evidence, some of which may derive from Christian interpolations. He rightly recognizes Jesus’ use of Aramaic (277), but could not anticipate later evidence that Jesus probably also was conversant in Greek.
52 Dunn, Jesus and Spirit, 41.
53 Schweitzer, Quest, praises Jesus, yet assumes that he erred even concerning his mission (2, 401). (Further on Schweitzer’s view of Jesus as a tragic failure, see Heyer, Jesus Matters, 33-39. Perhaps Norse mythology and Friedrich Nietzsche helped pave the way for such a tragic hero image; cf. Vidler, Revolution, 197.) His solution of an ahistorical faith (Schweitzer, Quest, 399) not grounded in Jesus’ own message is not consistent with any known representative of the apostolic church, whose early witness to Jesus is all we really have historically.
54 Schweizer, Quest, 398-403.
55 Cf. e.g., Silberman, “Apocalyptic Revisited,” especially 497-501.
56 Cf. Thompson, Debate, 95; Thurman, Disinherited, 20-27.
57 Herzog, Jesus, 8-12 (covering 1906 to 1953); cf. Kähler, “Movement.” Cf. Barth’s move away from historicism (Anderson, Jesus and Origins, 22-24). This skepticism about biographies of Jesus did not silence the interest of British form critics in this period concerning Jesus’ teaching.
58 On Bultmann’s approach, see also Anderson, Jesus and Origins, 24-48; Heyer, Jesus Matters, 52-61; Weaver, Historical Jesus, 103-8.
59 For the two-source theory and authorial redaction, see Theology, 3.
60 For “Q,” see e.g., Word, 27, 34, 40, 44-45, 96; for Mark, Word, 28, 31, 34, 36, 39, 44, 75-76, 78, 97, 109, 114; for “L,” see Word, 28, 31, 33, 40, 45, 50, 53-54, 59-60, 73; for “M,” see Word, 31, 44, 74, 89-90, 94-95. He rejects, however, John as a source for Jesus’ teaching (Word, 12), and passages like Matt 16:17-19 (Theology, 10).
61 He recognized the limitations of the historical method for theology (Thiselton, Horizons, 247).
62 For Bultmann’s opposition to Nazism, see Perrin, Bultmann, 16.
63 Bultmann reasonably portrays the kingdom and repentance in terms of decision (Entweder-Oder; Word, 31, 47; Theology, 9), but so demythologizes its eschatological value (Word, 35; Theology, 22-23) that it would have been unrecognizable to the earliest Jesus movement. He recognizes that Jesus understood it eschatologically (Word, 38) and that eschatology should not be reinterpreted (Word, 122), but appears to change the message more than he thinks. The “future” is now Heidegger’s “authentic possibility of being” (“Man and Faith,” 96-97); the present is eschatologically significant (“Between Times,” 250-51, arguing that this transition occurred within the NT). He doubts that the imminent end plays any part in Jesus’ ethics or opposition to legalism (Word, 129); the evangelists certainly would not have concurred (Mk 12:38-44 with Mk 13; Matt 23 with Matt 24-25; Matt 4:17 with 5:3-10, 22-26, 29-30; 6:1, 4-6, 14-16, 18-21; 7:1-2, 13-14, 19, 21-27).
64 Schweitzer himself had laid the groundwork for this approach by finding a “mysticism” involving Jesus’ “spirit” more relevant for religion proper than historical research was (see James M. Robinson, “Introduction,” xi-xxxiii in Schweitzer, Quest, xxv).
65 Bultmann’s presuppositions were especially existential (Word, 11; cf. 31 n. 1) and anthropocentric (“Man and Faith,” 92; “Mythology,” 5, 9; Word, 55; cf. Jesus’ God as something within humanity, Word, 102-3). Sometimes his understanding of “logical consistency” (Word, 156) simply reflects his modern worldview.
66 The greatest influence on his thought is the early Heidegger (Perrin, Bultmann, 15; Hasel, Theology, 85), who Bultmann thought discovered a picture according with what Bultmann found in the NT (“Mythology,” 23-25; Thiselton, Horizons, 178-79, 226, 232, 262). He saw existential understanding not as a bias but a necessary perspective, like any other approach to history (Bultmann, “Exegesis,” 149; cf. e.g., Word, 11; in contrast to Thielicke, who warns about corruption of the Bible by secular philosophy, in Thiselton, Horizons, 3). Old liberalism (despite Bultmann, “Mythology,” 12-13; Poland, Criticism, 26-27, 29) and his logical extension of Lutheranism (“Mythology,” 25; Thiselton, Horizons, 178-79, 205-26; cf. Poland, Criticism, 19-20) also influenced him; for influences from earlier NT scholarship (D. F. Strauss, J. Weiss, W. Bousset) and his approach to miracles as “mythology,” see Twelftree, Miracle Worker, 33-37.
67 We will address Bultmann’s form-critical methods more fully in our treatment of form criticism. The problem was less with some of Bultmann’s methods (though Sanders, Tendencies, shows abundant problems there) than with his presuppositions about the nature of history.
68 “Mythology,” 17-20, 38-39; “Between Times,” 250-51.
69 Cf. Thiselton, Horizons, 274, 290.
70 The Aryan ideologues of the Reich Church pursued “relevance” in a very different direction, accommodating to some degree the non-Christian Aryan ideologues of the era; certainly they sought to de-Judaize Christianity (see Poewe, Religions and Nazis). Schweitzer himself was ready to praise the unique “German temperament” (Quest, 1), but without creating an Aryan Jesus (a thesis that he rejects on 329). Most North Americans are aware of how many contemporary churches, both conservative and liberal, selectively interpret and apply Jesus to make him “relevant” for their own contexts.
71 Borg, Conflict, 13-14.
72 One that Thiselton attributes to his Neo-Kantian roots (Thiselton, Horizons, 260-61).
73 Bultmann, Word, 13-14.
74 Certainly he excluded anything he thought “can have originated only” in Hellenistic Christianity (Word, 13), though in practice I believe that he defined “can” too broadly and ignored “only.” He believes that Jesus usually radicalizes rather than looses the law (Word, 84); he regards baptism as adapting a Jewish practice (Theology, 39). He even observes Jesus’ continuity with Judaism regarding Scripture (Word, 61-64) and the need for forgiveness (Word, 199).
75 E.g., despite acknowledging parallels between Jesus’ prayers and those of the rest of Judaism (Word, 181-82), Bultmann tries too hard to distance the two.
76
Word, 76.
77
Word, 89-90, 92.
78 He is fairly accurate on Jewish eschatology, gathered from non-rabbinic sources (Word, 18- 22); he recognizes Jesus’ rabbinic-type context (Word, 57-61) and Judaism’s love doctrine (Word, 110- 12), and is sometimes careful to employ early material (Theology, 14). Bultmann essentially agrees with Judaism in assigning evil to the will and not to creation (Word, 49, 102, 210).
79 He relies on misinterpretations of evidence (e.g., Theology, 47); archaeology has challenged Judaism’s alleged lack of “art” (Word, 16), and the later rabbinic movement developed one of the most sophisticated systems of jurisprudence in antiquity (with Cohen, Law; against Word, 16).
80 He portrays the law as artificial and irrelevant (Word, 17), ignoring Jewish interpretation designed to make it relevant. Although correctly noting nonlegalistic elements in Jewish tradition (Word, 69-72), he proceeds to ignore them (esp. Word, 67-69, 92). While pride in good works (Word, 70) may have been arguably more common in Judaism than Sanders allows (see e.g., Gathercole, Boasting), it is a more generic human problem. His view of non-scribes as sinners (Word, 82) is exaggerated, as are implications of Jewish asceticism (cf. Word, 100; contrast Abrahams, Studies 1:12).
81 Anderson, Jesus and Origins, 47-52. For critiques of the Gnostic redeemer myth’s relevance for this period, see e.g., Drane, “Background,” 123; cf. Wilson, Gnostic Problem, 226; Yamauchi, Gnosticism, 70; Goppelt, Theology, 2:49; idem, Judaism, 174-75; Martin, Carmen Christi, 126-28; Keener, John, 169.
82 As Crossan puts it, lamenting the diversity of views before offering his own, “It is impossible to avoid the suspicion that historical Jesus research is a very safe place to do theology and call it history, to do autobiography and call it biography” (Crossan, Historical Jesus, xxviii).
83 See e.g., Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 7-8; Heyer, Jesus Matters, 61-72 (including 66-69 on Käsemann and 69-70 on Bornkamm); Herzog, Jesus, 12-18. Although descriptions of the “second quest” often omit Jeremias, he played an important role (see Heyer, Jesus Matters, 63-66).
84 The division into three “quests” is not, strictly speaking, historically accurate, since it reads all of Jesus research through the prism of particular lines of German scholarship (meanwhile ignoring even some of German scholarship); see Weaver, “Introduction,” 2 (citing, more extensively, his Historical Jesus in the Twentieth Century); Levine, “Introduction,” 6-7; Paget, “Quests,” 146; Bird, “Quest”; Claussen, “Historischen Jesus” (exploring whether today’s more optimistic “quest” may even be a fourth one). We employ the terminology because it is recognizable.
85 Brandon, Zealots (1967).
86 Schweitzer, Quest, 17.
87
Ant. 18.117-19.
88 E.g., Brandon, Zealots, 283. For the history of the revolutionary thesis, see Bammel, “Revolution theory,” 11-68. For critiques of such views, see e.g., Cullmann, State, 8-49; Hengel, “Revolutionär”; idem, Zeloten; Sweet, “Zealots”; Anderson, Mark, 41-42; some even contend that the charge of sorcery was a greater issue (on a popular level) than that of revolutionary (Horbury, “Brigand,” 183-95). Note also Stanton, Gospel Truth, 176 (Q’s “love your enemies” is probably authentic). Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, 68 regards Brandon as adequately refuted; see his own case on pp. 231-32.
89 Cf. Harvey, History, 14-15.
90 Greek and Roman sources (surveyed in Voorst, Jesus Outside NT, 19-74) most essentially view Jesus as “a troublemaker. He founded and led a superstitious and possibly seditious movement” (74). Charlesworth, Jesus Within Judaism, 98, understands Josephus as categorizing Jesus thus: “He was a rebellious person and disturber of the elusive peace; but he was also a wise person who performed ‘surprising,’ perhaps even wonderful, works, and was followed by many Jews and Gentiles.”
91 Thus e.g., Segundo, Historical Jesus, 86-103, views the “kingdom” as political and related to the poor.
92 For the political setting of Jesus, note some essays in Stegemann, Malina and Theissen, Setting of Jesus; for views regarding Jesus’ “political” activity, see e.g., Horsley, “Death,” 405-8 (but warning against viewing this in relation to “Zealots,” 416, 418-19); Herzog, Jesus; Hendricks, Politics. For political applications, cf. e.g., Toren, “Significance”; Hauerwas, “Have to Die.” Some others think the political dimension of Jesus’ teaching not prominent (Broer, “Death,” 163); some view it in terms of apocalyptic passive resistance (Segal, “Revolutionary,” 211-12).
93 E.g., Josephus increases the prominence of Elisha (whom he associates with political agendas; Höffken, “Elischa”). See further discussion in ch. 8 on agendas in ancient historiography.
94 Sanders, Figure, 262.
95
1 En. 90:28-29; 11QTemple 29.8-10.
96 1QM; Ps. Sol. 17:33-34.
97 Horsley and Hanson, Bandits, 69-76 (esp. 74-75); cf. also Sampathkumar, “Bandits.” For a clear ancient case of urban exploitation of the countryside, and consequent revolt, see e.g., Polyb. 1.72.1-2.
98 See Horsley and Hanson, Bandits, 77-85; cf. Freyne, Galilee, 148.
99 See Horsley, Spiral, 319-21, who plausibly infers from this that Jesus was involved in social revolution (though not political violence; 323-26), including challenging the priestly elite (325).
100 Scholars debate which lines of Jos. Ant. 18.63-64 are authentic (although there is now wide agreement on most of them), but none of them sound like the false prophets Josephus condemns.
101 Moreover, the authorities’ failure to crush Jesus’ movement immediately and decisively at its inception (cf. Acts 4:21; 5:40; mercies not likely to have been simply invented by Luke) reinforces the picture in Josephus that makes Jesus’ movement appear different from that of Theudas.
102 See also Borg, Vision, 137-40; Horsley, Spiral, 318-19.
103 Q material in Matt 10:34//Lk 12:51, but applied in Q to family divisions; special Lukan material in Lk 22:36. The saying in Matt 11:12//Lk 16:16 is difficult, especially given its different forms; it might refer to parabolic, spiritual “zealots” (as opposed to literal violent ones; Keener, Matthew, 339- 40; cf. perspectives in Vermes, Religion, 140; Papone, “Violenza”; Häfner, “Basileia”), but the matter is disputed.
104 See 1QS 10.17-20; CD 9.3-6; Let. Aris. 227; L.A.B. 8:10; Jos. Asen. 23:9; 29:3; 2 En. 50:4; Sipra Qed. pq. 4.200.3.4-5; Ex. Rab. 26:2; Plato Crito 49BD; Seneca Dial. 3.6.5; 4.32.1; Mus. Ruf. 10, pp. 76.18- 78.28; frg. 39, p. 136.10-16; frg. 41, p. 136; Suetonius Vesp. 14; Phaedrus 1.29.10-11; Plutarch Aristides 25.7; Max. Tyre Or. 12 (e.g., 12.9); Hierocles On Duties. On Fraternal Love 4.27.20; Marc. Aur. 6.6; Iamblichus Pyth. Life 10.51; Fitzgerald, Cracks, 103-5; cf. Diog. Laert. 7.1.123; Ps.-Phoc. 77; Test. Benj. ch. 5; later among Christians, Acts of Peter (8) 28; Acts of John 81. Some limited the principle only to Israel (Sipra Qed. pq. 4.200.3.6; cf. Stendahl, “Hate”).
105 I do not here enter the argument over whether these are personal (cf. Neil, “Sayings,” 160-62; Horsley, “Love”; idem, Spiral, 318; Freyne, Galilee, 154) or corporate (cf. Borg, Vision, 139; Vermes, Religion, 157) oppressors; they are at least the former, but probably (in view of lack of distinction) both (Moulder, “Enemies”; for a survey of views, see Luz, Matthew, 457-59).
106 Jer 26:11, 23; 1 Kgs 18:4; 19:10; 2 Chron 36:15-16; Neh 9:26.
107 See Michel, Prophet und Märtyrer; Schoeps, “Prophetenmorde”; Hare, Persecution, 137-38; Jeremias, Theology, 280; Amaru, “Killing”; also Davies and Allison, Matthew, 1:465, citing e.g., Lives of Prophets passim (such as 2:1, Schermann 25 p. 81; 6:1, Schermann 17 p. 60; 7:1-2, Schermann 14 p. 51); Jub. 1:12; 4QpHos a 2.3-6; Jos. Ant. 10.38; Asc. Isa. 2.16; 5.1-14; Tg. on Is. 28:1; also 4 Bar. 9:31; Pesiq. Rab. 26:1/2.
108 “Put away your sword” appears in both. Borg, Conflict, 195, plausibly draws attention to a parallel to the second line of Matthew’s saying in Rev 13:10.
109 Craigie, War, 32; cf. Borg, Conflict, 195-99.