the curiously intermittent Jewish apocalyptic literature of the period
between Daniel and the Bar‐Cochba rising. What else, indeed, are the
Synoptic Gospels, the Pauline letters, the Christian apocalypses than
products of Jewish apocalyptic, belonging, moreover, to its greatest and
most flourishing period? Historically regarded, the Baptist, Jesus, and
Paul are simply the culminating manifestations of Jewish apocalyptic
thought. The usual representation is the exact converse of the truth.
Writers describe Jewish eschatology in order to illustrate the ideas of
Jesus. But what is this “Jewish eschatology” after all? It is an
eschatology with a great gap in it, because the culminating period, with
the documents which relate to it, has been left out. The true historian
will describe the eschatology of the Baptist, of Jesus, and of Paul in
order to explain Jewish eschatology. It is nothing less than a misfortune
for the science of New Testament Theology that no real attempt has
hitherto been made to write the history of Jewish eschatology as it really
was; that is, with the inclusion of the Baptist, of Jesus, and of
Paul.(279)
All this has had to be said in order to justify the apparently self‐
evident assertion that Mark, Matthew, and Paul are the best sources for
the Jewish eschatology of the time of Jesus. They represent a phase, which
even in detail is self‐explanatory, of that Jewish apocalyptic hope which
manifested itself from time to time. We are, therefore, justified in first
reconstructing the Jewish apocalyptic of the time independently out of
these documents, that is to say, in bringing the details of the discourses
of Jesus into an eschatological system, and then on the basis of this
system endeavouring to explain the apparently disconnected events in the
history of His public life.
The lines of connection which run backwards towards the Psalms of Solomon,
Enoch, and Daniel, and forwards towards the apocalypses of Baruch and
Enoch, are extremely important for the understanding of certain general
conceptions. On the other hand, it is impossible to over‐emphasise the
uniqueness of the point of view from which the eschatology of the time of
the Baptist, of Jesus, and of Paul presents itself to us.
In the first place, men feel themselves so close to the coming events that
they only see what lies nearest to them, the imaginative development of
detail entirely ceases. In the second place, it appears to us as though
seen, so to speak, from within, passed through the medium of powerful
minds like those of the Baptist and Jesus. That is why it is so great and
simple. On the other hand, a certain complication arises from the fact
that it now intersects actual history. All these are original features of
it, which are not found in the Jewish apocalyptic writings of the
preceding and following periods, and that is why these documents give us
so little help in regard to the characteristic detail of the eschatology
of Jesus and His contemporaries.
A further point to be noticed is that the eschatology of the time of Jesus
shows the influence of the eschatology of the ancient prophets in a way
which is not paralleled either before or after. Compare the Synoptic
eschatology with that of the Psalms of Solomon. In place of the legal
righteousness, which, since the return from the exile, had formed the link
of connexion between the present and the future, we find the prophetic
ethic, the demand for a general repentance, even in the case of the
Baptist. In the Apocalypses of Baruch and Ezra we see, especially in the
theological character of the latter, the persistent traces of this ethical
deepening of apocalyptic.
But even in individual conceptions the apocalyptic of the Baptist, and of
the period which he introduces, reaches back to the eschatology of the
prophetic writings. The pouring forth of the spirit, and the figure of
Elias, who comes again to earth, play a great rôle in it. The difficulty
is, indeed, consciously felt of combining the two eschatologies, and
bringing the prophetic within the Danielic. How, it is asked, can the Son
of David be at the same time the Danielic Son‐of‐Man Messiah, at once
David’s son and David’s Lord?
It is inadequate to speak of a synthesis of the two eschatologies. What
has happened is nothing less than the remoulding, the elevation, of the
Daniel‐Enoch apocalyptic by the spirit and conceptions belonging to the
ancient prophetic hope.
A great simplification and deepening of eschatology begins to show itself
even in the Psalms of Solomon. The conception of righteousness which the
writer applies is, in spite of its legal aspect, of an ethical, prophetic
character. It is an eschatology associated with great historical events,
the eschatology of a Pharisaism which is fighting for a cause, and has
therefore a certain inward greatness.(280) Between the Psalms of Solomon
and the appearance of the Baptist there lies the decadence of Pharisaism.
At this point there suddenly appears an eschatological movement detached
from Pharisaism, which was declining into an external legalism, a movement
resting on a basis of its own, and thoroughly penetrated with the spirit
of the ancient prophets.
The ultimate _differentia_ of this eschatology is that it was not, like
the other apocalyptic movements, called into existence by historical
events. The Apocalypse of Daniel was called forth by the religious
oppression of Antiochus;(281) the Psalms of Solomon by the civil strife at
Jerusalem and the first appearance of the Roman power under Pompey;(282)
Fourth Ezra and Baruch by the destruction of Jerusalem.(283) The
apocalyptic movement in the time of Jesus is not connected with any
historical event. It cannot be said, as Bruno Bauer rightly perceived,
that we know anything about the Messianic expectations of the Jewish
people at that time.(284) On the contrary, the indifference shown by the
Roman administration towards the movement proves that the Romans knew
nothing of a condition of great and general Messianic excitement among the
Jewish people. The conduct of the Pharisaic party also, and the
indifference of the great mass of the people, show that there can have
been no question at that time of a national movement. What is really
remarkable about this wave of apocalyptic enthusiasm is the fact that it
was called forth not by external events, but solely by the appearance of
two great personalities, and subsides with their disappearance, without
leaving among the people generally any trace, except a feeling of hatred
towards the new sect.
The Baptist and Jesus are not, therefore, borne upon the current of a
general eschatological movement. The period offers no events calculated to
give an impulse to eschatological enthusiasm. They themselves set the
times in motion by acting, by creating eschatological facts. It is this
mighty creative force which constitutes the difficulty in grasping
historically the eschatology of Jesus and the Baptist. Instead of literary
artifice speaking out of a distant imaginary past, there now enter into
the field of eschatology men, living, acting men. It was the only time
when that ever happened in Jewish eschatology.
There is silence all around. The Baptist appears, and cries: “Repent, for
the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.” Soon after that comes Jesus, and in the
knowledge that He is the coming Son of Man lays hold of the wheel of the
world to set it moving on that last revolution which is to bring all
ordinary history to a close. It refuses to turn, and He throws Himself
upon it. Then it does turn; and crushes Him. Instead of bringing in the
eschatological conditions, He has destroyed them. The wheel rolls onward,
and the mangled body of the one immeasurably great Man, who was strong
enough to think of Himself as the spiritual ruler of mankind and to bend
history to His purpose, is hanging upon it still. That is His victory and
His reign.
These considerations regarding the distinctive character of the Synoptic
eschatology were necessary in order to explain the significance of the
sending forth of the disciples and the discourse which Jesus uttered upon
that occasion. Jesus’ purpose is to set in motion the eschatological
development of history, to let loose the final woes, the confusion and
strife, from which shall issue the Parousia, and so to introduce the
supra‐mundane phase of the eschatological drama. That is His task, for
which He has authority here below. That is why He says in the same
discourse, “Think not that I am come to send peace on the earth; I am not
come to send peace, but a sword” (Matt. x. 34).
It was with a view to this initial movement that He chose His disciples.
They are not His helpers in the work of teaching; we never see them in
that capacity, and He did not prepare them to carry on that work after His
death. The very fact that He chooses just twelve shows that it is a
dogmatic idea which He has in mind. He chooses them as those who are
destined to hurl the firebrand into the world, and are afterwards, as
those who have been the comrades of the unrecognised Messiah, before He
came to His Kingdom, to be His associates in ruling and judging it.(285)
But what was to be the fate of the future Son of Man during the Messianic
woes of the last times? It appears as if it was appointed for Him to share
the persecution and the suffering. He says that those who shall be saved
must take their cross and follow Him (Matt. x. 38), that His followers
must be willing to lose their lives for His sake, and that only those who
in this time of terror confess their allegiance to Him, shall be confessed
by Him before His heavenly Father (Matt. x. 32). Similarly, in the last of
the Beatitudes, He had pronounced those blessed who were despised and
persecuted for His sake (Matt. v. 11, 12). As the future bearer of the
supreme rule He must go through the deepest humiliation. There is danger
that His followers may doubt Him. Therefore, the last words of His message
to the Baptist, just at the time when He had sent forth the Twelve, is,
“Blessed is he whosoever shall not be offended in me” (Matt. xi. 6).
If He makes a point of familiarising others with the thought that in the
time of tribulation they may even lose their lives, He must have
recognised that this possibility was still more strongly present in His
own case. It is possible that in the enigmatic saying about the disciples
fasting “when the bridegroom is taken away from them” (Mark ii. 20), there
is a hint of what Jesus expected. In that case suffering, death, and
resurrection must have been closely united in the Messianic consciousness
from the first. So much, however, is certain, viz. that the thought of
suffering formed part, at the time of the sending forth the disciples, of
the mystery of the Kingdom of God and of the Messiahship of Jesus, and
that in the form that Jesus and all the elect were to be brought low in
the πειρασμός at the time of the death‐struggle against the evil world‐
power which would arise against them; brought down, it might be, even to
death. It mattered as little in His own case as in that of others whether
at the time of the Parousia He should be one of those who should be
metamorphosed, or one who had died and risen again. The question arises,
however, how this self‐consciousness of Jesus could remain concealed. It
is true the miracles had nothing to do with the Messiahship, since no one
expected the Messiah to come as an earthly miracle‐worker in the present
age. On the contrary, it would have been the greatest of miracles if any
one had recognised the Messiah in an earthly miracle‐worker. How far the
cries of the demoniacs who addressed Him as Messiah were intelligible by
the people must remain an open question. What is clear is that His
Messiahship did not become known in this way even to His disciples.
And yet in all His speech and action the Messianic consciousness shines
forth. One might, indeed, speak of the acts of His Messianic
consciousness. The Beatitudes, nay, the whole of the Sermon on the Mount,
with the authoritative “I” for ever breaking through, bear witness to the
high dignity which He ascribed to Himself. Did not this “I” set the people
thinking?
What must they have thought when, at the close of this discourse, He spoke
of people who, at the Day of Judgment, would call upon Him as Lord, and
appeal to the works that they had done in His name, and who yet were
destined to be rejected because He would not recognise them (Matt. vii.
21‐23)?
What must they have thought of Him when He pronounced those blessed who
were persecuted and despised for His sake (Matt. v. 11, 12)? By what
authority did this man forgive sins (Mark ii. 5 ff.)?
In the discourse at the sending forth of the disciples the “I” is still
more prominent. He demands of men that in the trials to come they shall
confess Him, that they shall love Him more than father or mother, bear
their cross after Him, and follow Him to the death, since it is only for
such that He can entreat His Heavenly Father (Matt. x. 32 ff.). Admitting
that the expression “Heavenly Father” contained no riddle for the
listening disciples, since He had taught them to pray “Our Father which
art in Heaven,” we have still to ask who was He whose yea or nay should
prevail with God to determine the fate of men at the Judgment?
And yet they found it hard, nay impossible, to think of Him as Messiah.
They guessed Him to be a prophet; some thought of Elias, some of John the
Baptist risen from the dead, as appears clearly from the answer of the
disciples at Caesarea Philippi.(286) The Messiah was a supernatural
personality who was to appear in the last times, and who was not expected
upon earth before that.
At this point a difficulty presents itself. How could Jesus be Elias for
the people? Did they not hold John the Baptist to be Elias? Not in the
least! Jesus was the first and the only person who attributed this office
to him. And, moreover, He declares it to the people as something
mysterious, difficult to understand—“If ye can receive it, this is Elias,
which was for to come. He that hath ears to hear, let him hear” (Matt. xi.
14, 15). In making this revelation He is communicating to them a piece of
supernatural knowledge, opening up a part of the mystery of the Kingdom of
God. Therefore He uses the same formula of emphasis as when making known
in parables the mystery of the Kingdom of God (Mark iv.).
The disciples were not with Him at this time, and therefore did not learn
what was the rôle of John the Baptist. When a little later, in descending
from the mount of transfiguration He predicted to the three who formed the
inner circle of His followers the resurrection of the Son of Man, they
came to Him with difficulties about the rising from the dead—how could
this be possible when, according to the Pharisees and Scribes, Elias must
first come?—whereupon Jesus explains to them that the preacher of
repentance whom Herod had put to death had been Elias (Mark ix. 11‐13).
Why did not the people take the Baptist to be Elias? In the first place no
doubt because he did not describe himself as such. In the next place
because he did no miracle! He was only a natural man without any evidence
of supernatural power, only a prophet. In the third place, and that was
the decisive point, he had himself pointed forward to the coming of Elias.
He who was to come, he whom he preached, was not the Messiah, but Elias.
He describes him, not as a supernatural personality, not as a judge, not
as one who will be manifested at the unveiling of the heavenly world, but
as one who in his work shall resemble himself, only much greater—one who,
like himself, baptizes, though with the Holy Spirit. Had it ever been
represented as the work of the Messiah to baptize?
Before the Last Judgment, so it was inferred from Joel, the great
outpouring of the Spirit was to take place; before the Last Judgment, so
taught Malachi, Elias was to come. Until these events had occurred the
manifestation of the Son of Man was not to be looked for. Men’s thoughts
were fixed, therefore, not on the Messiah, but upon Elias and the
outpouring of the Spirit.(287) The Baptist in his preaching combines both
ideas, and predicts the coming of the Great One who shall “baptize with
the Holy Spirit,” _i.e._ who brings about the outpouring of the Spirit.
His own preaching was only designed to secure that at His coming that
Great One should find a community sanctified and prepared to receive the
Spirit.
When he heard in the prison of one who did great wonders and signs, he
desired to learn with certainty whether this was “he who was to come.” If
this question is taken as referring to the Messiahship the whole narrative
loses its meaning, and it upsets the theory of the Messianic secret, since
in this case at least one person had become aware, independently, of the
office which belonged to Jesus, not to mention all the ineptitudes
involved in making the Baptist here speak in doubt and confusion.
Moreover, on this false interpretation of the question the point of Jesus’
discourse is lost, for in this case it is not clear why He says to the
people afterwards, “If ye can receive it, John himself is Elias.” This
revelation presupposes that Jesus and the people, who had heard the
question which had been addressed to Him, also gave it its only natural
meaning, referring it to Jesus as the bearer of the office of Elias.
That even the first Evangelist gives the episode a Messianic setting by
introducing it with the words “When John heard in the prison of the works
of the Christ” does not alter the facts of the body of the narrative. The
sequel directly contradicts the introduction. And this interpretation
fully explains the evasive answer of Jesus, in which exegesis has always
recognised a certain reserve without ever being able to make it
intelligible why Jesus did not simply send him the message, “Yes, I am
he”—whereto, however, according to modern theology, He would have needed
to add, “but another kind of Messiah from him whom you expect.”
The fact was, the Baptist had put Him in an extremely difficult position.
He could not answer that He was Elias if He held Himself to be the
Messiah; on the other hand He could not, and would not, disclose to him,
and still less to the messengers and the listening multitude, the secret
of His Messiahship. Therefore He sends this obscure message, which only
contains a confirmation of the facts which John had already heard and
closes with a warning, come what may, not to be offended in Him. Of this
the Baptist was to make what he could.
It mattered, in fact, little how John understood the message. The time was
much more advanced than he supposed; the hammer of the world’s clock had
risen to strike the last hour. All that he needed to know was that he had
no cause to doubt.
In revealing to the people the true office of the Baptist, Jesus unveiled
to them almost the whole mystery of the Kingdom of God, and nearly
disclosed the secret of His Messiahship. For if Elias was already present,
was not the coming of the Kingdom close at hand? And if John was Elias,
who was Jesus?... There could only be one answer: the Messiah. But this
seemed impossible, because Messiah was expected as a supernatural
personality. The eulogy on the Baptist is, historically regarded,
identical in content with the prediction of the Parousia in the discourse
at the sending forth of the disciples. For after the coming of Elias there
must follow immediately the judgment and the other events belonging to the
last time. Now we can understand why in the enumeration of the events of
the last time in the discourse to the Twelve the coming of Elias is not
mentioned.
We see here, too, how, in the thought of Jesus, Messianic doctrine forces
its way into history and simply abolishes the historic aspect of the
events. The Baptist had not held himself to be Elias, the people had not
thought of attributing this office to him; the description of Elias did
not fit him at all, since he had done none of those things which Elias was
to do: and yet Jesus makes him Elias, simply because He expected His own
manifestation as Son of Man, and before that it was necessary that Elias
must first have come. And even when John was dead Jesus still told the
disciples that in him Elias had come, although the death of Elias was not
contemplated in the eschatological doctrine, and was in fact unthinkable,
But Jesus must somehow drag or force the eschatological events into the
framework of the actual occurrences.
Thus the conception of the “dogmatic element” in the narrative widens in
an unsuspected fashion. And even what before seemed natural becomes on a
closer examination doctrinal. The Baptist is made into Elias solely by the
force of Jesus’ Messianic consciousness.
A short time afterwards, immediately upon the return of the disciples, He
spoke and acted before their eyes in a way which presupposed the Messianic
secret. The people had been dogging his steps; at a lonely spot on the
shores of the lake they surrounded Him, and He “taught them about many
things” (Mark vi. 30‐34). The day was drawing to a close, but they held
closely to Him without troubling about food. In the evening, before
sending them away, He fed them.
Weisse, long ago, had constantly emphasised the fact that the feeding of
the multitude was one of the greatest historical problems, because this
narrative, like that of the transfiguration, is very firmly riveted to its
historical setting and, therefore, imperatively demands explanation. How
is the historical element in it to be got at? Certainly not by seeking to
explain the apparently miraculous in it on natural lines, by representing
that at the bidding of Jesus people brought out the baskets of provisions
which they had been concealing, and, thus importing into the tradition a
natural fact which, so far from being hinted at in the narrative, is
actually excluded by it.
Our solution is that the whole is historical, except the closing remark
that they were all filled. Jesus distributed the provisions which He and
His disciples had with them among the multitude so that each received a
very little, after He had first offered thanks. The significance lies in
the giving of thanks and in the fact that they had received from Him
consecrated food. Because He is the future Messiah, this meal becomes
without their knowledge the Messianic feast. With the morsel of bread
which He gives His disciples to distribute to the people He consecrates
them as partakers in the coming Messianic feast, and gives them the
guarantee that they, who had shared His table in the time of His
obscurity, would also share it in the time of His glory. In the prayer He
gave thanks not only for the food, but also for the coming Kingdom and all
its blessings. It is the counterpart of the Lord’s prayer, where He so
strangely inserts the petition for daily bread between the petitions for
the coming of the Kingdom and for deliverance from the πειρασμός.
The feeding of the multitude was more than a love‐feast, a fellowship‐
meal. It was from the point of view of Jesus a sacrament of salvation.
We never realise sufficiently that in a period when the judgment and the
glory were expected as close at hand, one thought arising out of this
expectation must have acquired special prominence—how, namely, in the
present time a man could obtain a guarantee of coming scatheless through
the judgment, of being saved and received into the Kingdom, of being
signed and sealed for deliverance amid the coming trial, as the Chosen
People in Egypt had a sign revealed to them from God by means of which
they might be manifest as those who were to be spared. But once we do
realise this, we can understand why the thought of signing and sealing
runs through the whole of the apocalyptic literature. It is found as early
as the ninth chapter of Ezekiel. There, God is making preparation for
judgment. The day of visitation of the city is at hand. But first the Lord
calls unto “the man clothed with linen who had the writer’s ink‐horn by
his side” and said unto him, “Go through the midst of the city, through
the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon the foreheads of the men that
sigh and that cry for all the abominations that be done in the midst
thereof.” Only after that does He give command to those who are charged
with the judgment to begin, adding, “But come not near any man upon whom
is the mark” (Ezek. ix. 4 and 6).