The Making of the New Testament

by Benjamin Wisner Bacon

Of the extent to which the early church could do without narrative of Jesus' earthly ministry we have extraordinary evidences in the literature of Pauline Christianity on the one side and of Jewish Christianity on the other. For Paul himself, as we know, the real story of Jesus was a transcendental drama of the Incarnation, Redemption, and Exaltation. It is probable that when at last "three years" after his conversion he went up to Jerusalem "to get acquainted with Peter," the story he was interested to hear had even then more to do with that common apostolic witness of the resurrection appearances reproduced in 1st Cor. xv. 3-11, than with the sayings and doings of the ministry. As to this Paul preserves, as we have seen, an almost unbroken silence. And that which did not interest Paul, naturally did not interest his churches.

On the other hand those who could have perpetuated a full and authentic account of the ministry were almost incredibly slow to undertake the task; partly, no doubt, because of their vivid expectation of the immediate end of the world, but largely also because to their mind the data most in need of preservation were the 'life-giving words.' The impression of Jesus' character, his person and authority was not, as they regarded it, a thing to be gained from the historical outline of his career. It was established by the fact of the Resurrection, by the predictions of the prophets, which found fulfilment in the circumstances of Jesus' birth, particular incidents here and there in his career and fate, but most of all in his resurrection and the gifts of the Spirit which argued his present session at the right hand of God. Once this authority of Jesus was established the believer had only to observe his commandments as handed down by the apostles, elders and witnesses.

On all sides there was an indifference to such historical inquiry as the modern man would think natural and inevitable, an indifference that must remain altogether inexplicable to us unless we realize that until at least the time of the fourth evangelist the main proofs of messiahship were not looked for in Jesus' earthly career. His Christhood was thought of as something in the future, not yet realized. Even his resurrection and manifestation in glory "at the right hand of God," which is to both Paul (Rom. i. 4) and his predecessors (Acts ii. 32-36) the assurance that "God hath made him both Lord and Christ," is not yet the beginning of his specific messianic programme. Potentially this has begun, because Jesus has already been seated on the 'throne of glory,' "from henceforth expecting until his enemies be made the footstool of his feet." Practically it is not yet. The Christ is still a Christ that is to be. His messianic rule is delayed until the subjugation of the "enemies"; and this subjugation in turn is delayed by "the long suffering of God, who willeth not that any should perish, but that all men should come to repentance." Meantime a special "outpouring of the Spirit" is given in 'tongues,' 'prophecies,' 'miracle working,' and the like, in fulfilment of scriptural promise, as a kind of coronation largess to all loyal subjects. This outpouring of the Spirit, then, is the great proof and assurance that the Heir has really ascended the 'throne of glory' in spite of the continuance of "all things as they were from the foundation of the world." These 'gifts' are "firstfruits of the Spirit," pledges of the ultimate inheritance, proofs both to believers and unbelievers of the complete Inheritance soon to be received. But the gifts have also a practical aspect. They are all endowments for service. The Great Repentance in Israel and among the Gentiles is not to be brought about without the co-operation of believers. The question which at once arises when the manifestation of the risen Christ is granted, "Lord, dost thou at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?" is therefore answered by the assurance that the time is in God's hand alone, but that the 'gifts of the Spirit,' soon to be imparted, are intended to enable believers to do their part, at home and abroad, toward effecting the Great Repentance (Acts i. 6-8).[20]

For a church which felt itself endowed with living and present evidences of the messianic power of Jesus it was naturally only a second thought (and not a very early one at that) to look back for proof to occurrences in Jesus' life in Galilee, however notable his career as "a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people." The present gifts of his power would be (at least in demonstrative effect) "greater works than these." With those who had the resurrection testimony of 1st Cor. xv. 3-11, and even the recurrent experience of "visions and revelations of the Lord," anticipatory revelations of his messiahship, utterances, like that to Peter at Cæsarea Philippi, wherein Jesus only predicted the great work to be divinely accomplished through him, whether by life or death, in going up to Jerusalem, intimations which had been disregarded or disbelieved at the time, could not rank with present knowledge, experience and insight. They would be recalled merely as confirmatory foregleams of "the true light that now shineth," as the two who had received the manifestation at Emmaus exclaim, "Did not our heart burn within us while he talked to us in the way?"

We could not indeed psychologically account for the development of the resurrection faith after the crucifixion, if before it Jesus' life and utterances had not been such as to make his manifestation in glory seem to the disciples just what they ought to have expected. But, conversely, nothing is more certain than the fact that they did not expect it; and that when the belief had become established by other means, the attitude toward the "sayings and doings" maintained by those who had them to relate—as we know, the most successful missionary of all felt it no handicap to be entirely without them—was one of looking back into an obscure past for things whose pregnant significance became appreciable only in the light of present knowledge. "These things understood not his disciples at the first, but when Jesus was glorified, then remembered they that these things had been written of him, and that they had done these things unto him."

We are fortunate in having even one example of the "consecutive narratives" (diegeses) referred to in Luke i. 1. Our Mark is a gospel written purely and simply from this point of view, aiming only to show how the earthly career of Jesus gave evidence that this was the Son of God, predestined to exaltation to the right hand of power, with little attempt, if any, to bring in the precepts of the New Law. We should realize, however, that this is already a beginning in the process soon to become controlling, a process of carrying back into the earthly life of Jesus in Galilee of first this trait, then that, then all the attributes of the glorified Lord.

Ancient and reliable tradition informs us that this first endeavour to tell the story of "Jesus Christ the Son of God" was composed at Rome by John Mark, a former companion of both Peter and Paul, from data drawn from the anecdotes casually employed by Peter in his preaching. There is much to confirm this in the structure, the style, and the doctrinal object and standpoint of the Gospel.

To begin with, the date of composition cannot be far from 75. Mark is not only presupposed by both Matthew and Luke, but in their time had already acquired an extraordinary predominance. To judge by what remains to us of similar products, Mark in its own field might almost be said to reign supreme and reign alone. Such almost exclusive supremacy could not have been attained, even by a writing commonly understood to represent the preaching of Peter, short of a decade or more of years. On the other hand we have the reluctant testimony of antiquity, anxious to claim as much as possible of apostolic authority for the record, but unwilling to commit Peter to apparent contradictions of Matthew, that it was written after Peter's death (64-5).[21] Internal evidence would in fact bring down the date of the work in its present form a full decade thereafter. It is true that there are many structural evidences of more than one form of the narrative, and that the apocalyptic chapter (ch. xiii.), which furnishes most of the evidence of date, may well belong among the later supplements. But in the judgment of most critics this 'eschatological discourse' (almost the only connected discourse of the Gospel) is clearly framed in real retrospect upon the overthrow of Jerusalem and the temple, and the attendant tribulation on "those that are in Judæa." The writer applies a general saying of Jesus known to us from other sources about destroying and rebuilding the temple specifically to the demolition effected by Titus (70). He warns his readers in the same connection that "the end" is not to follow immediately upon the great Judæan war, but only when the powers of evil in the heavenly places, powers inhabiting sun, moon and stars, are shaken (xiii. 21-27). The Pauline doctrine of 2nd Thess. ii. 1-12 is adopted, but with careful avoidance of the prediction that the "man of sin" is to appear "in the temple of God." Paul's "man of sin" is now identified with Daniel's "abomination that maketh desolate" (Dan. xii. 11), which therefore is spoken of as "he" (masculine). "His" appearance will prelude the great Judæan tribulation; but his standing place is ill-defined. It is only "where he ought not." Matthew (following his usual practice) returns more nearly to the language of Daniel. With him the "Abomination" is again an object standing "in a holy place." But Matthew is already applying the prophecy to another tribulation still to come. He does not see that Mark refers to the sack of Jerusalem on which he himself looks back in his addition to the parable of the Supper (Matt. xxii. 6 f.; cf. Luke xiv. 15-24), but takes Mark xiii. 14-23 as Jesus' prediction of a great final tribulation still to come.

Mark's crudities of language and style, his frequent latinisms, his explanation to his readers (almost contemptuously exaggerated) of Jewish purifications and distinctions of meats (vii. 3 f.), presupposition of the Roman form of divorce (x. 12), explanation in Roman money of the value of the (Greek and Oriental) "mite" (lepton), are well-known confirmations of the tradition of the writing's place of origin. But these are superficial characteristics. More important for us to note is the fundamental conception of what constitutes "the gospel," and the writer's attitude on questions of the relation of Jew and Gentile and the authority of the apostles and kindred of the Lord.

The most striking characteristic of Mark is that it aims to present the gospel about Jesus, and is relatively indifferent to the gospel of Jesus. Had the writer conceived his task after the manner of a Matthew there is little doubt that he could have compiled catechetic discourses of Jesus like the Sermon on the Mount or the discourse on prayer of Luke xi. 1-13. The fact that he disregards such records of Jesus' ethical and religious instruction does not mean that he (tacitly) refers his readers to the Matthæan Precepts, or similar compilations, to supplement his own deficiencies. It means a different, more Pauline, conception of what "the gospel" is. Mark conceives its primary element to be attachment to the person of Jesus, and has already gone far toward obliterating the primitive distinction between a Jesus whose earthly career had been "in great humility," and the glorified Son of God. The earthly Jesus is still, it is true, only a man endowed with the Spirit of Adoption. But he is so completely "in" the Spirit, and so fully endowed with it, as almost to assume the Greek figure of a demi-god treading the earth incognito. No wonder this Gospel became the favourite of the Adoptionists and Doketists.