CHAPTER V

THE JEWISH ENVIRONMENT

Of the three ways in which, upon naturalistic principles, the

genesis of the religion of Paul has been explained, one has been

examined, and has been found wanting. Paulinism, it has been shown,

was not based upon the Jesus of modern liberalism. If Jesus was

simply a teacher of righteousness, a revealer of God, then the

religion of Paul was not derived from Him. For the religion of Paul

was a religion of redemption.

But if the religion of Paul was not derived from the Jesus of modern

liberalism, whence was it derived? It may, of course, have been

derived from the divine Redeemer; the Jesus whom Paul presupposes

may have been the Jesus who actually lived in Palestine. But that

explanation involves the intrusion of the supernatural into the

course of history; it is therefore rejected by "the modern mind."

Other explanations, therefore, are being sought. These other

explanations are alike in that they derive the religion of Paul from

sources independent of Jesus of Nazareth. Two such explanations have

been proposed. According to one, the religion of Paul was derived

from contemporary Judaism; according to the other, it was derived

from the paganism of the Greco-Roman world. The present chapter will

deal with the former of these two explanations--with the explanation

which derives the religion of Paul from contemporary Judaism.

This explanation is connected especially with the names of Wrede[94]

and Brückner.[95] It has, however, seldom been maintained in any

exclusive way, but enters into combination with other hypotheses.

Indeed, in itself it is obviously insufficient; it will hardly

explain the idea of redemption in the religion of Paul. But it is

thought to explain, if not the idea of redemption, at least the

conception of the Redeemer's person, and from the conception of

the Redeemer's person the idea of redemption might in some way be

derived. The hypothesis of Wrede and Brückner, in other words, seeks

to explain not so much the soteriology as the Christology of Paul;

it derives from the pre-Christian Jewish conception of the Messiah

the Pauline conception of the heavenly Christ. In particular, it

seeks to explain the matter-of-course way in which in the Epistles

the Pauline Christ is everywhere presupposed but nowhere defended.

Apparently Paul was not aware that his Christology might provoke

dissent. This attitude is very difficult to explain on the basis of

the ordinary liberal reconstruction; it is difficult to explain if

the Pauline Christology was derived by a process of development from

the historical Jesus. For if it had been so derived, its newness

and revolutionary character would naturally have appeared. As a

matter of fact, however, Paul does not regard it as anything new; he

treats his doctrine of Christ as though it were firmly established

and required no defense. How shall this confident attitude of the

apostle be explained? It is to be explained, Wrede says, by the

theology of contemporary Judaism. Paul was so confident that his

conception of Christ could not be regarded as an innovation because

as a matter of fact it was not an innovation; it was nothing but the

pre-Christian Jewish notion of the Messiah. The Pauline conception

of Christ was thus firmly fixed in the mind of Paul and in the minds

of many of his contemporaries long before the event on the road to

Damascus; all that happened at that time was the identification

of the Christ whom Paul had believed in all along with Jesus of

Nazareth, and that identification, because of the meagerness of

Paul's knowledge of Jesus, did not really bring any fundamental

change in the Christology itself. After the conversion as well as

before it, the Christ of Paul was simply the Christ of the Jewish

apocalypses.

[94] See p. 26, footnote 2.

[95] See p. 27, footnote 1.

In order that this hypothesis may be examined, it will be advisable

to begin with a brief general survey of the Jewish environment of

Paul. The survey will necessarily be of the most cursory character,

and it will not be based upon original research. But it may serve

to clear the way for the real question at issue. Fortunately the

ground has been covered rather thoroughly by recent investigators.

In dependence upon Schürer and Charles and others, even a layman may

hope to arrive at the most obvious facts. And it is only the most

obvious facts which need now be considered.

Three topics only will be discussed, and they only in the most

cursory way. These three topics are (1) the divisions within

Judaism, (2) the Law, (3) the Messiah.

The most obvious division within the Judaism of Paul's day is

the division between the Judaism of Palestine and that of the

Dispersion. The Jews of Palestine, for the most part, spoke Aramaic;

those of the Dispersion spoke Greek. With the difference of language

went no doubt in some cases a difference in habits of thought. But

exaggerations should be avoided. Certainly it is a serious error to

represent the Judaism of the Dispersion as being universally or even

generally a "liberal" Judaism, inclined to break down the strict

requirements of the Law. The vivid descriptions of the Book of Acts

point in the opposite direction. Opposition to the Gentile mission

of Paul prevailed among the Hellenists of the Dispersion as well

as among the Hebrews of Palestine. On the whole, although no doubt

here and there individuals were inclined to modify the requirements

imposed upon proselytes, or even were influenced by the thought of

the Gentile world, the Jews of the first century must be thought of

as being a strangely unified people, devoted to the Mosaic Law and

jealous of their God-given prerogatives.

At any rate, it is a grave error to explain the Gentile mission of

Paul as springing by natural development from a liberal Judaism of

the Dispersion. For even if such a liberal Judaism existed, Paul did

not belong to it. He tells us in no uncertain terms that he was a

"Hebrew," not a Hellenist; inwardly, therefore, despite his birth in

Tarsus, he was a Jew of Palestine. No doubt the impressions received

from the Greek city where he was born were of great importance in

his preparation for his life-work; it was no mere chance, but a

dispensation of God, that the apostle to the Gentiles spent his

earliest years in a seat of Gentile culture. But it was Jerusalem

rather than Tarsus which determined Paul's outlook upon life. At

any rate, however great or however little was the influence of his

boyhood home, Paul was not a "liberal" Jew; for he tells us that he

was a Pharisee, more exceedingly zealous than his contemporaries for

the traditions of his fathers.

Birth in Tarsus, therefore, did not mean for Paul any adherence

to a liberal Judaism, as distinguished from the strict Judaism of

Palestine. According to Montefiore, a popular Jewish writer of

the present day, it even meant the exact opposite; the Judaism of

the Dispersion, Montefiore believes, was not more liberal, but

less liberal, than the Judaism of Palestine; it was from Tarsus,

Montefiore thinks, that Paul derived his gloomy view of sin, and

his repellent conception of the wrath of God. Palestinian Judaism

of the first century, according to Montefiore, was probably like

the rabbinical Judaism of 500 A. D., and the rabbinical Judaism

of 500 A. D., contrary to popular opinion, was a broad-minded

régime which united devotion to the Law with confidence in the

forgiveness of God.[96] This curious reversal of the usual opinion

is of course open to serious objection. How does Montefiore know

that the Judaism of the Dispersion was less liberal and held a

gloomier view of sin than the Judaism of Palestine? The only

positive evidence seems to be derived from 4 Ezra, which, with the

other apocalypses, in an entirely unwarranted manner, is apparently

made to be a witness to the Judaism of the Dispersion. And were

the rabbinical Judaism of 500 A. D. and the Palestinian Judaism of

50 A. D. really characterized by that sweet reasonableness which

Montefiore attributes to them? There is at least one testimony to

the contrary--the testimony found in the words of Jesus.

[96] Montefiore, _Judaism and St. Paul_, 1914. Compare Emmet, "The

Fourth Book of Esdras and St. Paul," in _Expository Times_, xxvii,

1915-1916, pp. 551-556.

Distinct from the question of fact is the question of value.

But with regard to that question also, Montefiore's opinion may

be criticized. It may well be doubted whether the easy-going

belief in the complacency of God, celebrated by Montefiore as

characteristic of Judaism, was, if it ever existed, superior to

the gloomy questionings of 4 Ezra. Certainly from the Christian

point of view it was not superior. In its shallow view of sin, in

its unwillingness to face the ultimate problems of sin and death,

the Jewish liberalism of Montefiore is exactly like the so-called

Christian liberalism of the modern Church. And it is as far

removed as possible from the Christianity of Paul. At one point,

therefore, Montefiore is entirely correct. The gospel of Paul was

based not upon a mild view of law, but upon a strict view; not upon

a belief in the complacency of God, but upon the cross of Christ as

a satisfaction of divine justice. Neither before his conversion nor

after it was Paul a "liberal."

Besides the obvious division between the Judaism of Palestine

and that of the Dispersion, other divisions may be detected,

especially within Palestinian Judaism. Three principal Jewish sects

are distinguished by Josephus; the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and

the Essenes.[97] Of these, the first two appear also in the New

Testament. The Essenes were separated from the ordinary life of

the people by certain ascetic customs, by the rejection of animal

sacrifice, and by religious practices which may perhaps be due to

foreign influence. Apparently the Essenic order did not come into

any close contact with the early Church. It is very doubtful, for

example, whether Lightfoot was correct in finding Essenic influence

in the errorists combated in Paul's Epistle to the Colossians. At

any rate, there is not the slightest reason to suppose that Paul was

influenced from this source.

[97] Josephus, _Antiq._ XVIII. i. 2-5.

The Sadducees were a worldly aristocracy, in possession of the

lucrative priestly offices and reconciled to Roman rule. Their

rejection of the doctrine of resurrection is attested not only by

the New Testament but also by Josephus. They were as far removed as

possible from exerting influence upon the youthful Paul.

The Pharisees represented orthodox Judaism, with its devotion to

the Law. Their popularity, and their general, though not universal,

control of education, made them the real leaders of the people.

Certainly the future history of the nation was in their hands;

for when the Temple was destroyed the Law alone remained, and the

Pharisees were the chief interpreters of the Law. It was this party

which claimed the allegiance of Paul. So he testifies himself. His

testimony is often forgotten, or at least the implications of it

ignored. But it is unequivocal. Saul of Tarsus was not a liberal

Jew, but a Pharisee.

The mention of the Pharisees leads naturally to the second division

of our sketch of pre-Christian Judaism--namely, the Law. According

to Baldensperger, the two foci around which Judaism moved were the

Law and the Messianic hope.[98] These two foci will here be touched

upon very briefly in order.

[98] Baldensperger, _Die Messianisch-apokalyptischen Hoffnungen des

Judentums_, 3te Aufl., 1903, pp. 88, 89.

Unquestionably post-exilic Judaism was devoted to the Law. The

Law was found in the Old Testament, especially in the books of

Moses. But around the written Law had grown up a great mass of

oral interpretations which really amounted to elaborate additions.

By this "tradition of the elders" the life of the devout Jew was

regulated in its minutest particulars. Morality thus became a

matter of external rules, and religion became a credit-and-debit

relationship into which a man entered with God. Modern Jews are

sometimes inclined to contradict such assertions, but the evidence

found both in rabbinical sources and in the New Testament is too

strong. Exaggerations certainly should be avoided; there are

certainly many noble utterances to be found among the sayings

of the Jewish teachers; it is not to be supposed that formalism

was unrelieved by any manifestations whatever of the goodness of

the heart. Nevertheless, the Jewish writings themselves, along

with flashes of true insight, contain a great mass of fruitless

casuistry; and the New Testament confirms the impression thus

produced. In some quarters, indeed, it is customary to discredit the

testimony of Jesus, reported in the Gospels, as being the testimony

of an opponent. But why was Jesus an opponent? Surely it was because

of something blameworthy in the life of those whom He denounced.

In the sphere of moral values, the testimony of Jesus of Nazareth

is worth having; when He denounces the formalism and hypocrisy of

the scribes, it is very difficult for any student of the history of

morals not to be impressed. Certainly the denunciation of Jesus was

not indiscriminate. He "loved" the rich young ruler, and said to the

lawyer, "Thou art not far from the kingdom of God." Thus the Gospels

in their choice of the words of Jesus which they record have not

been prejudiced by any hatred of the Jews; they have faithfuly set

down various elements in Jesus' judgment of His contemporaries. But

the picture which they give of Jewish legalism cannot be put out

of the world; it seems clear that the religion of the Pharisees at

the time of Paul was burdened with all the defects of a religion of

merit as distinguished from a religion of grace.

The legalism of the Pharisees might indeed seem to possess one

advantage as a preparation for the gospel of Paul; it might seem

likely to produce the consciousness of sin and so the longing for

a Saviour. If the Law was so very strict as the Pharisees said it

was, if its commands entered so deep into every department of life,

if the penalty which it imposed upon disobedience was nothing less

than loss of the favor of a righteous God, would not the man who

was placed under such a régime come to recognize the imperfection

of his obedience to the countless commands and so be oppressed by a

sense of guilt? Paul said that the Law was a schoolmaster to bring

the Jews to Christ, and by that he meant that the Law produced the

consciousness of sin. But if the Law was a schoolmaster, was its

stern lesson heeded? Was it a schoolmaster to bring the Jews to

Christ only in its essential character, or was it actually being

used in that beneficent way by the Jews of the age of Paul?

The answer to these questions, so far as it can be obtained, is on

the whole disappointing. The Judaism of the Pauline period does

not seem to have been characterized by a profound sense of sin.

And the reason is not far to seek. The legalism of the Pharisees,

with its regulation of the minute details of life, was not really

making the Law too hard to keep; it was really making it too easy.

Jesus said to His disciples, "Except your righteousness shall

exceed the righteousness of the scribes and Pharisees, ye shall

in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven." The truth is, it is

easier to cleanse the outside of the cup than it is to cleanse the

heart. If the Pharisees had recognized that the Law demands not

only the observance of external rules but also and primarily mercy

and justice and love for God and men, they would not have been so

readily satisfied with the measure of their obedience, and the Law

would then have fulfilled its great function of being a schoolmaster

to bring them to Christ. A low view of law leads to legalism in

religion; a high view of law makes a man a seeker after grace.

Here and there, indeed, voices are to be heard in the Judaism of

the New Testament period which attest a real sense of sin. The

Fourth Book of Ezra,[99] in particular, struggles seriously with the

general reign of evil in the lives of men, and can find no solution

of the terrible problem. "Many have been created, but few shall be

saved!" (4 Ezra viii. 3). "Or who is there that has not transgressed

thy covenant?" (vii. 46). Alas for the "evil heart" (vii. 48)! In

a very interesting manner 4 Ezra connects the miserable condition

of humanity with the fall of Adam; the fall was not Adam's alone

but his descendants' (vii. 118). At this point, it is interesting

to compare 2 Baruch,[100] which occupies a somewhat different

position; "each of us," declares 2 Baruch, "has been the Adam of

his own soul." And in general, 2 Baruch takes a less pessimistic

view of human evil, and (according to Charles' estimate, which may

be correct) is more self-complacent about the Law. But the profound

sense of guilt in 4 Ezra might conceivably be a step on the way to

saving faith in Christ. "O Lord above us, if thou wouldst ... give

unto us the seed of a new heart!" (4 Ezra viii. 6). This prayer was

gloriously answered in the gospel of Paul.[101]

[99] See Box, in Charles, _Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the

Old Testament_, 1913, ii, pp. 542-624; Schürer, _Geschichte des

jüdischen Volkes_, 3te und 4te Aufl., iii, 1909, pp. 315-335

(English Translation, _A History of the Jewish People_, Division

II, vol. iii, 1886, pp. 93-104). The work of Charles has been used

freely, without special acknowledgment, for the citations from the

Jewish apocalypses.

[100] See Charles, _op. cit._, ii, pp. 470-526; Schürer, _op. cit._,

iii, pp. 305-315 (English Translation, Division II, vol. iii, pp.

83-93).

[101] Compare Box, in Charles, _op. cit._, p. 593. See also Emmet,

_loc. cit._

It must be remembered, however, that 4 Ezra was completed long after

the Pauline period; its attitude to the problem of evil certainly

cannot be attributed with any confidence to Saul of Tarsus,

the pupil of Gamaliel. It is significant that when, after the

conversion, Paul seeks testimonies to the universal sinfulness of

man, he looks not to contemporary Judaism, but to the Old Testament.

At this point, as elsewhere, Paulinism is based not upon later

developments but upon the religion of the Prophets and the Psalms.

On the whole, therefore, especially in the light of what was said

above, it cannot be supposed that Saul the Pharisee held a spiritual

view of law, or was possessed of a true conviction of sin. Paul was

convicted of his sin only when the Lord Jesus said to him, "I am

Jesus whom thou persecutest."

The other focus about which pre-Christian Judaism, according to

Baldensperger, revolved was the Messianic hope. This hope had its

roots in the Old Testament. A complete introduction to the subject

would of course deal first with the Old Testament background. Here,

however, the background will have to be dismissed with a word.

According to the ordinary "critical" view, the doctrine of an

individual Messiah, and especially that of a transcendent Messiah,

arose late in the history of Israel. At first, it is maintained,

there was the expectation of a blessed line of Davidic kings; then

the expectation of a line of kings gave way in some quarters to

the expectation of an individual king; then the expectation of an

earthly king gave way in some quarters to the expectation of a

heavenly being like the "Son of Man" who is described in 1 Enoch.

This theory, however, has been called in question in recent years,

for example by Gressmann.[102] According to Gressmann, the doctrine

of an individual transcendent Saviour is of hoar antiquity, and

antedates by far the expectation of a blessed line of Davidic

kings and that of an individual earthy king. Gressmann is not, of

course, returning to the traditional view of the Old Testament. On

the contrary, he believes that the ancient doctrine of a heavenly

Saviour is of extra-Israelitish origin and represents a widespread

myth. But in the details of exegesis, the radicalism of Gressmann,

as is also the case with many forms of radicalism in connection with

the New Testament, involves a curious return to the traditional

view. Many passages of the Old Testament, formerly removed from the

list of Messianic passages by the dominant school of exegesis, or

else regarded as late interpolations, are restored by Gressmann to

their original significance. Thus the suffering servant of Jehovah

of Is. liii (a passage which the dominant school of exegesis has

interpreted in a collective sense, as referring to the nation of

Israel or to the righteous part of the nation) is regarded by

Gressmann as being an individual (mythical) figure to whose death

and resurrection is attributed saving significance.

[102] _Der Ursprung der israelitisch-jüdischen Eschatologie_, 1905.

The supernaturalistic view of the Old Testament[103] agrees with

Gressmann in his individualistic interpretation of such passages

as Is. liii, but differs from him in that it attributes objective

validity to the representation thus obtained. According to the

supernaturalistic view, Israel was from the beginning the people of

the Promise. The Promise at first was not fully defined in the minds

of all the people. But even at the beginning there were glorious

revelations, and the revelations became plainer and plainer as

time went on. The various elements in the Promise were not indeed

kept carefully distinct, and their logical connections were not

revealed. But even long before the Exile there was not only a

promise of blessing to David's line, with occasional mention of

an individual king, but also a promise of a Redeemer and King who

should far exceed the limits of humanity. Thus God had sustained His

people through the centuries with a blessed hope, which was finally

fulfilled, in all its aspects, by the Lord Jesus Christ.

[103] See Beecher, _The Prophets and the Promise_, 1905.

Discussion of these various views would exceed the limits of the

present investigation. All that can here be done is to present

briefly the Messianic expectations of the later period, in which

Paul lived.

But were those expectations widely prevalent? Was the doctrine of

a coming Messiah firmly established among the Jews of the time of

Paul? The answer to these questions might seem to be perfectly

plain. The common impression is that the Judaism of the first

century was devoted to nothing if not to the hope of a king who was

to deliver God's people from the oppression of her enemies. This

impression is derived from the New Testament. Somewhat different is

the impression which might be derived from the Jewish sources if

they were taken alone. The expectation of a Messiah hardly appears

at all in the Apocrypha, and even in the Pseudepigrapha it appears

by no means in all of the books. Even when the thought of the future

age is most prominent, that age does not by any means appear in

inevitable connection with a personal Messiah. On the contrary, God

Himself, not His instrument the Messiah, is often represented as

ushering in the new era when Israel should be blessed.

Despite this difference between the New Testament and the Jewish

literature, it is generally recognized that the testimony of the

New Testament must be essentially correct. The picture which is

given in the Gospels of the intensity of the Messianic hope among

the Jews must be founded upon fact even if Jesus Himself did not

claim to be the Messiah. Indeed, it is just in that latter case

that the testimony in some respects would become strongest of all.

For if Jesus did not claim to be the Messiah, the attribution of

Messiahship to Him by His disciples could be explained only by the

intensity of their own Messianic expectations. As a matter of fact,

however, Jesus did claim to be the Messiah; the elimination of His

Messianic consciousness has not won the assent of any large body

of historians. He did claim to be the Messiah, and He died because

the Jews regarded Him as a false claimant. But His opponents, no

less than His disciples, were expecting a "King of the Jews." The

New Testament throughout, no matter what view may be held as to the

historicity of the individual narratives, is quite inexplicable

unless the Jews both in Palestine and in the Dispersion had a

doctrine of "the Christ."

This New Testament representation is confirmed here and there by

other writers. Even Philo,[104] as Brückner remarks, pays his

tribute, though in an isolated passage, to the common Messianic

doctrine.[105] Josephus,[106] also, despite his effort to avoid

offending his Roman readers, is obliged to mention the Messianic

hope as one cause of the great war, and can only make the reference

harmless by finding the Messiah in the Emperor Vespasian![107] On

the whole, the fact may be regarded as certain that in the first

century after Christ the expectation of the Messiah was firmly

established among the Jews. The silence of great sections of the

Apocrypha may then be explained partly by the date of some of the

books. It may well be that there was a period, especially during the

Maccabean uprising, when because of the better present condition of

the nation the Messianic hope was less in the forefront of interest,

and that afterwards, under the humiliation of Roman rule, the

thoughts of the people turned anew to the expected Deliverer. But

however that may be, it is altogether probable that the expectation

of a Messiah was everywhere cherished in the Judaism of the time of

Paul.

[104] _De praem et poen._ 16 (ed. Cohn, 1902, iv, p. 357).

[105] Brückner, _Die Entstehung der paulinischen Christologie_,

1903, pp. 102f.

[106] _Bell. Jud._ VI. v. 4.

[107] Schürer, _op. cit._, ii, 1907, p. 604 (English Translation,

Division II, vol. ii, 1885, p. 149).

If then the hope of a Messiah was prevalent in the Judaism of the

first century, what was the nature of that hope? Two forms of

Messianic expectation have ordinarily been distinguished. In the

first place, it is said, there was an expectation of an earthly king

of David's line, and in the second place, there was the notion of a

heavenly being already existing in heaven. The former of these two

lines of expectation is usually thought to represent the popular

view, held by the masses of the people; and the latter is regarded

as an esoteric doctrine held by a limited circle from which the

apocalypses have sprung.

At this point, Brückner is somewhat in opposition to the ordinary

opinion; he denies altogether the presence in first-century Judaism

of any distinctive doctrine of a purely human Messiah.[108] The

Messiah, he says, appears in all the sources distinctly as a

supernatural figure. Even in the Psalms of Solomon, he insists,

where the Messiah is represented as a king reigning upon earth, He

is nevertheless no ordinary king, for He destroys His enemies not by

the weapons of war but "by the breath of His mouth." In the Gospels,

moreover, although the people are represented as looking for a king

who should break the Roman rule, yet they demand of this king works

of superhuman power.

[108] Brückner, _op. cit._, pp. 104-112.

Undoubtedly there is a measure of truth in this contention of

Brückner. It may perhaps be admitted that the Messiah of Jewish

expectation was always something more than an ordinary king; it

may perhaps be admitted that He was endowed with supernatural

attributes. Nevertheless, the view of Brückner is exaggerated. There

is still to be maintained the distinction between the heavenly

being of 1 Enoch and the Davidic king. The latter might perhaps be

regarded as possessed of miraculous powers, but still He was in

the essentials of His person an earthly monarch. He was to be born

like other men; He was to rule over an earthly kingdom; He was to

conquer earthly armies; presumably He was to die. It is significant

that John the Baptist, despite the fact that he had as yet wrought

no miracles, was apparently thought by some to be the Messiah (Lk.

iii. 15; John i. 19-27). Even if this representation of the Gospels

of Luke and of John should be regarded as quite unhistorical, still

it does show that the writers of these two Gospels, neither of

whom was by any means ignorant of Jewish conditions, regard it as

no incongruity that some should have supposed such a man as John

to be the Messiah. The Messiah, therefore, could not have been

regarded always as being like the heavenly Son of Man of 1 Enoch.

But it is unnecessary to appeal to details. The whole New Testament,

whatever view may be taken of the historicity of its narratives in

detail, attests the prevalence in the first century of a Messianic

expectation according to which the Messiah was to be an earthly king

of David's line.

This view of Messiahship becomes explicit in Justin Martyr's

Dialogue with Trypho, which was written at about the middle of

the second century. In this book, the Jewish opponent of Justin

represents the Messiah as a "mere man."[109] No doubt this evidence

cannot be used directly for the earlier period in which Paul

lived. There does seem to have been a reaction in later Jewish

expectations against that transcendent view of Messiahship which had

been adopted by the Christian Church. Thus the apocalypses passed

out of use among the Jews, and, in some cases at least, have been

preserved only by the Church, and only because of their congruity

with Christian views. It is possible, therefore, that when Trypho

in the middle of the second century represents the Messiah as a

"mere man," he is attesting a development in the Jewish doctrine

which was subsequent to the time of Paul. But even in that case his

testimony is not altogether without value. Even if Trypho's doctrine

of a merely human Messiah be a later development, it was probably

not without some roots in the past. If the Jews of the first century

possessed both the doctrine of an earthly king and that of a

heavenly "Son of Man," it is possible to see how the latter doctrine

might have been removed and the former left in sole possession of

the field; but if in the first century the transcendent doctrine

alone prevailed, it is unlikely that a totally different view could

have been produced so quickly to take its place.[110]

[109] ψιλὸς ἄνθροπος.

[110] Indeed Brückner himself (_op. cit._, p. 110) admits that

there were two lines of thought about the Messiah in pre-Christian

Judaism. But he denies that the two were separated, and insists that

the transcendent conception had transformed the conception of an

earthly king.

Thus it must be insisted against Brückner that in the first

century the transcendent conception of Messiahship attested by the

apocalypses was not the only conception that prevailed. Despite its

dominance in the apocalypses, it was probably not the doctrine of

the masses of the people. Probably the ordinary view of the matter

is essentially correct; probably the Jews of the first century were

eagerly awaiting an earthly king of David's line who should deliver

them from Roman rule.

If, however, the transcendent conception of Messiahship which

is found in the apocalypses was not the only conception held by

pre-Christian Judaism, it is none the less of special interest, and

will repay examination. It is found most fully set forth in the

"Similitudes" of 1 Enoch,[111] but appears also in 4 Ezra and in 2

Baruch.

[111] All parts of 1 Enoch are now usually thought to be of

pre-Christian origin. The Similitudes (chaps. xxxvii-lxxi) are

usually dated in the first century before Christ. See Charles,

_op. cit._, ii, pp. 163-281; Schürer, _op. cit._, iii, pp. 268-290

(English Translation, Division II, vol. iii, pp. 54-73).

In the Similitudes, the heavenly being, who is to appear at the end

of the age and be the instrument of God in judgment, is usually

called the Elect One, Mine Elect One, the Son of Man, or that Son

of Man. He is also called the Righteous One, and twice he is called

Messiah or Anointed One (xlviii. 10; lii. 4). This latter title

would seem to connect him with the expected king of David's line,

who was the Anointed One or the Messiah. Lake and Jackson, however,

would deny all connection. The heavenly Son of Man, they maintain,

was never in pre-Christian Judaism identified with the expected

king of David's line--that is, with the "Messiah" in the technical

sense--so that it is a mistake to speak of "Messianic" passages in

the Book of Enoch.[112] But after all, the heavenly figure of 1

Enoch is represented as fulfilling much the same functions as those

which are attributed in the Psalms of Solomon, for example, to the

Messiah. It would be difficult to conceive of the same writer as

expecting two deliverers--one the Messiah of the Psalms of Solomon,

and the other the Son of Man of 1 Enoch. On the whole, therefore,

it is correct, despite the protest of Lake and Jackson, to speak of

the passages in 1 Enoch as Messianic, and of the Son of Man as the

"Messiah." In 4 Ezra xii. 32, moreover, the transcendent being, who

is set forth under the figure of the lion, is distinctly identified

with the Messiah "who shall spring from the seed of David." Of

course, the late date of 4 Ezra may be insisted upon, and it may be

maintained that the Davidic descent of the Messiah in 4 Ezra is a

mere traditional detail, without organic connection with the rest

of the picture. But it is significant that the writer did feel it

necessary to retain the detail. His doing so proves at least that

the heavenly being of the apocalypses was not always thought of as

distinct from the promised king of David's line. All that can be

granted to Lake and Jackson is that the future Deliverer was thought

of in pre-Christian Judaism in widely diverse ways, and that there

was often no effort to bring the different representations into

harmony. But it is correct to speak of all the representations as

"Messianic." For the coming Deliverer in all cases (despite the

variety of the expectations) was intended to satisfy at least the

same religious needs.

[112] Lake and Jackson, _The Beginnings of Christianity_, Part I,

vol. i, 1920, pp. 373f.

The title "Son of Man," which is used frequently in the Similitudes,

has given rise to a great deal of discussion, especially because of

its employment in the Gospels as a self-designation of Jesus. It

has been maintained by some scholars that "Son of Man" never could

have been a Messianic title, since the phrase in Aramaic idiom

means simply "man." Thus the Greek phrase, "the Son of Man," in the

Gospels would merely be an over-literal translation of an Aramaic

phrase which meant simply "the man," and the use of "Son of Man" as

a title would not extend back of the time when the tradition about

the words of Jesus passed over into Greek. But in recent years this

extreme position has for the most part been abandoned. In the first

place, it is by no means clear that the Aramaic phrase from which

the phrase "the Son of Man" in the Gospels is derived was simply the

ordinary phrase meaning simply "the man." Opposed to this view is

to be put, for example, the weighty opinion of Dalman.[113] In the

second place, it has been shown that the linguistic question is not

so important as was formerly supposed. For even if "the son of man"

in Aramaic meant simply "the man," it might still be a title. The

commonest noun may sometimes become a title, and a title of highly

specialized significance. For example, the word "day" is a very

common word, but "The Day" in certain connections, like the German,

"Der Tag," altogether without the help of any adjectives, comes

to designate one particular day. So "the Man" or "that Man" could

become a very lofty title, especially if it refers to some definite

scene in which He who is the "Man" _par excellence_ is described.

[113] Dalman, _Die Worte Jesu_, i, 1898, pp. 191-197 (English

Translation, _The Words of Jesus_, i, 1902, pp. 234-241); Bousset,

_Kyrios Christos_, 1913, pp. 13, 14.

In the Similitudes, such is actually the case; the phrase "Son of

Man," whatever be its exact meaning, plainly refers to the "one like

unto a son of man" who in Daniel vii. 13 appears in the presence

of "the Ancient of Days." This reference is made perfectly plain

at the first mention of the Son of Man (1 Enoch xlvi. 1, 2), where

the same scene is evidently described as the scene of Dan. vii. 13.

The "Son of Man" is not introduced abruptly, but is first described

as a "being whose countenance had the appearance of a man," and is

then referred to in the Similitudes not only as "the Son of Man,"

but also as "that Son of Man." Charles and others suppose, indeed,

that the Ethiopic word translated "that" is merely a somewhat false

representation, in the Ethiopic translation, of the Greek definite

article, so that the Greek form of the book from which the extant

Ethiopic was taken had everywhere "the Son of Man," and nowhere

"that Son of Man." The question is perhaps not of very great

importance. In any case, the phrase "son of man" derives its special

significance from the reference to the scene of Dan. vii. 13. Not

any ordinary "man" or "son of man" is meant, but the mysterious

figure who came with the clouds of heaven and was brought near to

the Ancient of Days.

The Son of Man, or the Elect One, in the Similitudes, appears

clothed with the loftiest attributes. He existed before the creation

of the world (xlviii. 3, 6). When he finally appears, it is to sit

in glory upon the throne of God (li. 3, etc.), and judge not only

the inhabitants of earth but also the fallen angels (lv. 4). For the

purposes of judgment he is endued with righteousness and wisdom. He

is concerned, moreover, not only with the judgment but also with

the execution of the judgment; he causes "the sinners to pass away

and be destroyed from off the face of the earth" (lxix. 27). For

the righteous, on the other hand, the judgment results in blessing

and in communion with the Son of Man. "And the righteous and elect

shall be saved in that day, and they shall never thenceforward see

the face of the sinners and the unrighteous. And the Lord of Spirits

will abide over them, and with that Son of Man shall they eat and

lie down and rise up for ever and ever" (lxii. 13, 14).

The entire representation in the Similitudes is supernatural; the

Son of Man is a heavenly figure who appears suddenly in the full

blaze of his glory. Yet the connection with earth is not altogether

broken off. It is upon a glorified earth that the righteous are

to dwell. Indeed, despite the cosmic extent of the drama, the

prerogatives of Israel are preserved; the Gentile rulers are no

doubt referred to in "the Kings and the Mighty" who are to suffer

punishment because of their former oppression of "the elect." On the

other hand, mere connection with Israel is not the only ground for a

man's acceptance by the Son of Man; the judgment will be based upon

a real understanding of the secrets of individual lives.

In 4 Ezra vii. 26-31, the rule of the Messiah is represented as

distinctly temporary. The Messiah will rejoice the living for four

hundred years; then, together with all human beings, he will die;

then after the world has returned to primeval silence for seven

days, the new age, with the final resurrection, will be ushered

in. It may be doubted whether this representation harmonizes with

what is said elsewhere in 4 Ezra about the Messiah, indeed whether

even in this passage the representation is thoroughly consistent.

Box, for example, thinks that there are contradictions here, which

are to be explained by the composite nature of the book and by the

work of a redactor. But at any rate the result, in the completed

book, is clear. The Messiah is to die, like all the men who are upon

the earth, and is not connected with the new age. This death of

the Messiah is as far as possible from possessing any significance

for the salvation of men. Certainly it is not brought into any

connection with the problem of sin, which, as has been observed

above, engages the special attention of the writer of 4 Ezra. "It

is important to observe how the Jewish faith knew of a Saviour for

external ills, but not for sin and condemnation; and how the Christ

is able only to create a brief earthly joy, which passes away with

the destruction of the world."[114]

[114] Volz, _Jüdische Eschatologie von Daniel bis Akiba_, 1903, pp.

202f.

In the "Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs,"[115] although Brückner

is no doubt right in saying that the Messiah here as well as in 1

Enoch is a supernatural figure, the connection of the Messiah with

the tribe of Levi introduces the reader into a somewhat different

circle of ideas. The difference becomes more marked in the "Psalms

of Solomon,"[116] where the Messiah is a king of David's line. It is

no doubt true that even here the Messiah is no ordinary human being;

he destroys his enemies, not by the weapons of warfare and not by

the help of Israelitish armies, but by the breath of his mouth. Yet

the local, earthly character of the Messiah's reign--what may even

be called, perhaps, its political character--is more clearly marked

than in the apocalypses. Also there is stronger emphasis upon the

ethical qualities of the Messianic king; the righteousness of his

people is celebrated in lofty terms, which, however, do not exclude

a strong element of Jewish and Pharisaic particularism.

[115] See Charles, _op. cit._, ii, pp. 282-367; Schürer, _op. cit._,

iii, pp. 339-356 (English Translation, Division II, vol. iii, pp.

114-124).

[116] See Gray, in Charles, _op. cit._, ii, pp. 625-652; Schürer,

_op. cit._, iii, pp. 205-212 (English Translation, Division II, vol.

iii, pp. 17-23).

No complete exposition of the Jewish belief about the Messiah has

here been attempted. But enough has perhaps been said to indicate

at least some features of the Messianic expectation in the period

just preceding the time of Paul. Evidently, in certain circles

at least, the Messianic hope was transcendent, individualistic,

and universalistic. The scene of Messiah's kingdom was not always

thought of merely as the earthly Jerusalem; at least the drama

by which that kingdom is ushered in was thought of as taking

place either in heaven or upon an earth which has been totally

transformed. With this transcendent representation went naturally

a tendency towards individualism. Not merely nations were to be

judged, but also the secrets of the individual life; and individuals

were to have a part in the final blessing or the final woe. Of

course, for those who should die before the end of the age, this

participation in the final blessedness or the final woe would be

possible only by a resurrection. And the doctrine of resurrection,

especially for the righteous, is in the apocalypses clearly

marked. In 2 Baruch, indeed, there is an interesting discussion

of the relation between the resurrection state and the present

condition of man; the righteous will first rise in their old

bodies, but afterwards will be transformed (2 Baruch xlix-li).

Finally, the apocalypses exhibit a tendency toward universalism.

The coming of the Messianic kingdom is regarded as an event of

cosmic significance. The Gentiles are even sometimes said to share

in the blessing. But they are to share in the blessing only by

subordination to the people of God.

Despite the importance of the later period, it is interesting to

observe that all the essential features of later Jewish eschatology

have their roots in the canonical books of the Old Testament. In

the first place, the transcendence of the later representation has

an Old Testament basis. In Isaiah ix and xi the Messiah appears

clearly as a supernatural figure, and in Isaiah lxv. 17 there is a

prophecy of new heavens and a new earth. The heavenly "Son of Man"

is derived from Dan. vii. 13, and the individualistic interpretation

of that passage, which makes the Son of Man, despite verse 18,

something more than a mere collective symbol for the people of

Israel, is to-day in certain quarters coming to its rights. Not

only in the Psalms of Solomon, but also in the apocalypses, the Old

Testament language is used again and again to describe the heavenly

Messiah. There is, in the second place, an Old Testament basis for

the individualism of the later representation. The doctrine of

resurrection, with its consequences for an individualistic hope,

appears in Daniel. And, finally, the universalism of the apocalypses

does not transcend that of the great Old Testament prophets. In the

prophets also, the nations are to come under the judgment of God and

are to share in some sort in the blessings of Israel.

If, therefore, the apostle Paul before his conversion believed in a

heavenly Messiah, supernatural in origin and in function, he was not

really unfaithful to the Old Testament.

But was his pre-Christian notion of the Messiah really the source

of the Christology of the Epistles? Such is the contention of Wrede

and Brückner. Wrede and Brückner believe that the lofty Christology

of Paul, inexplicable if it was derived from the man Jesus, may be

accounted for if it was merely the pre-Christian conception of the

Messiah brought into loose connection with the prophet of Nazareth.

This hypothesis must now be examined.

At the beginning of the investigation, it may be questioned whether

Paul before his conversion held the apocalyptic view of the Messiah.

It might, indeed, even be questioned whether he was particularly

interested in the Messianic hope at all. If Baldensperger is correct

in saying that the Messianic dogma was in some sort a substitute

for the Law, and the Law a substitute for the Messianic dogma,

so that finally rabbinical interest in the Law tended to dampen

interest in the Messiah,[117] then the pre-Christian life of Paul

was presumably not dominated by Messianic expectations. For Paul

himself, as Baldensperger observes,[118] does not, in speaking of

his pre-Christian life, reckon himself with the Messianists. He

reckons himself, rather, with those who were zealous for the Law.

Such considerations are interesting. But their importance should

not be exaggerated. It must be remembered that according to the

testimony of the whole New Testament the doctrine of the Messiah was

firmly established in the Judaism of Paul's day. It is hardly likely

that Paul the Pharisee dissented from the orthodox belief. In all

probability, therefore, Paul before his conversion did hold some

doctrine of the Messiah.

[117] Baldensperger, _Die Messianisch-apocalyptischen Hoffnungen des

Judentums_, 3te Aufl., 1903, pp. 88, 207f., 216f.

[118] Baldensperger, _op. cit._, pp. 216f.

It is not so certain, however, that the pre-conversion doctrine

of Paul presented a transcendent Messiah like the heavenly Son of

Man of the apocalypses. Certainly there is in the Pauline Epistles

no evidence whatever of literary dependence upon the apocalyptic

descriptions of the Messiah. The characteristic titles of the

Messiah which appear in the Similitudes of Enoch, for example, are

conspicuously absent from Paul. Paul never uses the title "Son of

Man" or "Elect One" or "Righteous One" in speaking of Christ. And

in the apocalypses, on the other hand, the Pauline terminology is

almost equally unknown. The apocalypses, at least 1 Enoch, use the

title "Messiah" only very seldom, and the characteristic Pauline

title, "Lord," never at all. It is evident, therefore, that the

Pauline Christology was not derived from the particular apocalypses

that are still extant. All that can possibly be maintained is that

it was derived from apocalypses which have been lost, or from an

apocalyptic oral tradition. But dependence upon lost sources, direct

comparison not being possible, is always very difficult to establish.

Thus the terminology of the Epistles and of the apocalypses is

rather unfavorable to the view which attributes to the youthful

Paul the apocalyptic doctrine of the Messiah. No literary relation

can be established between the Epistles and the extant apocalypses.

But will general considerations serve to supply the lack of direct

evidence of dependence? On the whole, the reverse is the case.

General considerations as to the pre-Christian opinions of Paul

point rather to a less transcendent and more political conception

than the conception which is found in the apocalypses. No doubt the

Messiah whom Paul was expecting possessed supernatural attributes;

it seems to have been generally expected in New Testament times that

the Messiah would work miracles. But the supernatural attributes of

the Messiah would not necessarily involve a conception like that

which is presented in the Similitudes of Enoch. Possibly it is

rather to the Psalms of Solomon that the historian should turn. The

Psalms of Solomon were a typical product of Pharisaism in its nobler

aspects. Their conception of the Messiah, therefore, may well have

been that of the pupil of Gamaliel. And the Messiah of the Psalms

of Solomon, though possessed of supernatural power and wisdom, is

thought of primarily as a king of David's line, and there is no

thought of his preëxistence. He is very different from the Son of

Man of 1 Enoch.

It is, therefore, not perfectly clear that Paul before the

conversion believed in a heavenly, preëxistent Messiah like the

Messiah of the apocalypses. There is some reason for supposing that

the apocalyptic Messiah was the Messiah, not of the masses of the

people and not of the orthodox teachers, but of a somewhat limited

circle. Did Paul belong to that limited circle? The question cannot

be answered with any certainty.

The importance of such queries must not, indeed, be exaggerated. It

is not being maintained here that Paul before his conversion did not

believe in the Messiah of the apocalypses; all that is maintained

is that it is not certain that he did. Possibly the diffusion of

apocalyptic ideas in pre-Christian Judaism was much wider than is

sometimes supposed; possibly the youthful Paul did come under the

influence of such ideas. But Wrede and Brückner are going too far

if they assert that Paul must necessarily have come under such

influences. The truth is that the pre-Christian life of Paul is

shrouded in the profoundest obscurity. Almost the only definite

piece of information is what Paul himself tells us--that he was

zealous for the Law. He says nothing about his conception of the

Messiah. The utmost caution is therefore in place. Brückner is going

much further than the sources will warrant when he makes Paul before

his conversion a devotee of the apocalyptic Messiah, and bases upon

this hypothesis an elaborate theory as to the genesis of the Pauline

Christology.

But even if Paul before his conversion was a devotee of the

apocalyptic Messiah, the genesis of the Pauline Christology has not

yet been explained. For the apocalyptic Messiah is different in

important respects from the Christ of the Epistles.

In the first place, there is in the apocalypses no doctrine of

an activity of the Messiah in creation, like that which appears

in 1 Cor. viii. 6; Col. i. 16. The Messiah of the apocalypses is

preëxistent, but He is not thought of as being associated with God

in the creation of the world. This difference may seem to be only

a difference in detail; but it is a difference in detail which

concerns just that part of the Pauline Christology which would seem

to be most similar to the apocalyptic doctrine. It is the Pauline

conception of the preëxistent Christ, as distinguished from the

incarnate or the risen Christ, which Wrede and Brückner find it

easiest to connect with the apocalypses. But even in the preëxistent

period the Christ of Paul is different from the apocalyptic Messiah,

because the Christ of Paul, unlike the apocalyptic Messiah, has an

active part in the creation of the world.

In the second place, there is in the apocalypses no trace of the

warm, personal relation which exists between the believer and the

Pauline Christ.[119] The Messiah of the apocalypses is hidden in

heaven. He is revealed only as a great mystery, and only to favored

men such as Enoch. Even after the judgment, although the righteous

are to be in company with Him, there is no such account of His

person as would make conceivable a living, personal relationship

with Him. The heavenly Messiah of the apocalypses is a lifeless

figure, clothed in unapproachable light. The risen Christ of Paul,

on the other hand, is a person whom a man can love; indeed He is a

person whom as a matter of fact Paul did love. Whence was derived

the concrete, personal character of the Christ of Paul? It was

certainly not derived from the Messiah of the apocalypses. Whence

then was it derived?

[119] Compare especially Olschewski, _Die Wurzeln der paulinischen

Christologie_, 1909.

The natural answer would be that it was derived from Jesus of

Nazareth. The fact that the risen Christ of Paul is not merely a

heavenly figure but a person whom a man can love is most naturally

explained by supposing that Paul attributed to the Messiah all the

concrete traits of the striking personality of Jesus of Nazareth.

But this supposition is excluded by Wrede's hypothesis. Indeed,

Wrede supposes, if Paul had come into such close contact with the

historical Jesus as to have in his mind a full account of Jesus'

words and deeds, he could not easily have attached to Him the

supernatural attributes of the heavenly Son of Man; only a man who

stood remote from the real Jesus could have regarded Jesus as the

instrument in creation and the final judge of all the world. Thus

the hypothesis of Wrede and Brückner faces a quandary. In order to

explain the supernatural attributes of the Pauline Christ, Paul has

to be placed near to the apocalypses and far from the historical

Jesus; whereas in order to explain the warm, personal relation

between Paul and his Christ, Paul would have to be placed near to

the historical Jesus and far from the apocalypses.

This quandary could be avoided only by deriving the warm, personal

relation between Paul and his Christ from something other than the

character of the historical Jesus. Wrede and Brückner might seek to

derive it from the one fact of the crucifixion. All that Paul really

derived from the historical Jesus, according to Wrede and Brückner,

was the fact that the Messiah had come to earth and died. But that

one fact, it might be maintained, was sufficient to produce the

fervent Christ-religion of Paul. For Paul interpreted the death of

the Messiah as a death suffered for the sins of others. Such a death

involved self-sacrifice; it must have been an act of love. Hence the

beneficiaries were grateful; hence the warm, personal relationship

of Paul to the one who had loved him and given Himself for him.[120]

[120] Compare Brückner, _Die Entstehung der paulinischen

Christologie_, 1903, p. 237.

But how did the death of Jesus ever come to be interpreted by Paul

as a vicarious death of the Messiah? The natural answer would be

that it was because of something that Jesus had said or because of

an impression derived from His character. That answer is excluded

by Wrede's hypothesis. How then did Paul come to regard the death

of Jesus as a vicarious death of the Messiah? It could only have

been because Paul already had a doctrine of the vicarious death of

the Messiah before his conversion. But nothing is more unlikely.

There is in late pre-Christian Jewish literature not a trace of

such a doctrine.[121] The Messiah in 4 Ezra is represented, indeed,

as dying, but His death is of benefit to no one. He dies, along

with all the inhabitants of earth, simply in order to make way

for the new world.[122] In Justin Martyr's Dialogue with Trypho,

the Jew Trypho is represented as admitting that the Messiah was

to suffer. But the suffering is not represented as vicarious. And

since the Dialogue was written in the middle of the second century

after Christ, the isolated testimony of Trypho cannot be used as

a witness to first-century conditions. It is perfectly possible,

as Schürer suggested, that certain Jews of the second century were

only led to concede the suffering of the Messiah in the light of

the Scriptural arguments advanced by the Christians. The rabbinical

evidence as to sufferings of the Messiah is also too late to be used

in reconstructing the pre-Christian environment of Paul. And of

real evidence from the period just before Paul's day there is none.

In 4 Maccabees vi. 28, 29, indeed (less clearly in xvii. 21, 22),

the blood of the righteous is represented as bringing purification

for the people. The dying martyr Eleazar is represented as

praying:[123] "Be merciful unto thy people, and let our punishment

be a satisfaction in their behalf. Make my blood their purification,

and take my soul to ransom their souls." This passage, however, is

entirely isolated. There is no evidence whatever that the vicarious

suffering of the righteous was anything like an established doctrine

in the Judaism of Paul's day, and in particular there is no evidence

that in pre-Christian Judaism the idea of vicarious suffering was

applied to the Messiah. Undoubtedly Isaiah liii might have formed a

basis for such an application; it may even seem surprising that that

glorious passage was not more influential. But as a matter of fact,

Judaism was moving in a very different direction; the later doctrine

of the Messiah had absolutely no place for a vicarious death or for

vicarious suffering. All the sources are here in agreement. Neither

in the apocalypses nor in what is presupposed in the New Testament

about Jewish belief is there any trace of a vicarious death of the

Messiah. Indeed, there is abundant evidence that such an idea was

extremely repulsive to the Jewish mind. The Cross was unto the Jews

a stumbling-block.[124]

[121] See Schürer, _op. cit._, ii, pp. 648-651 (English Translation,

Division II, vol. ii, pp. 184-187).

[122] It will be remembered, moreover, that 4 Ezra, at least in its

completed form, dates from long after the time of Paul.

[123] Townshend, in Charles, _op. cit._, ii, p. 674.

[124] B. W. Bacon (_Jesus and Paul_, 1921, pp. 45-49) seeks to

bridge the gulf between Jesus and Paul by supposing that Jesus

himself, somewhat like the Maccabean hero, finally attained, after

the failure of His original program and at the very close of His

life, the conception that His approaching death was to be in some

sort an expiation for His people. But the idea of expiation which

Bacon attributes to Jesus is no doubt very different from the

Pauline doctrine of the Cross of Christ. The gulf between Jesus and

Paul is therefore not really bridged. Moreover, it cannot be said

that Bacon's hypothesis of successive stages in the experience of

Jesus, culminating in the idea of expiation attained at the last

supper, has really helped at all to solve the problem presented to

every historian who proceeds upon naturalistic presuppositions by

Jesus' lofty claims. At least, however, this latest investigator

of the problem of "Jesus and Paul" has betrayed a salutary

consciousness of the fact that the Pauline conception of Jesus'

redemptive work is inexplicable unless it find some justification

in the mind of Jesus Himself. Only, the justification which Bacon

himself has found--particularly his account of the way in which the

idea of expiation is supposed to have arisen in Jesus' mind--is

entirely inadequate.

Thus the warm, personal relation of love and gratitude which Paul

sustains to the risen Christ is entirely unexplained by anything in

his Jewish environment. It is not explained by the Jewish doctrine

of the Messiah; it is not explained by reflection upon the vicarious

death of the Messiah. For the Messiah in Jewish expectation was

not to suffer a vicarious death. Such a relation of love and

gratitude could be sustained only toward a living person. It could

be sustained toward Jesus of Nazareth, if Jesus continued to live

in glory, but it could not be sustained toward the Messiah of the

apocalypses.

The third difference between the Pauline Christ and the Messiah

of the apocalypses concerns the very center of the Pauline

conception--there is in the apocalypses no doctrine of the divinity

of the Messiah. In Paul, the divinity of Christ is presupposed on

every page. The word "divinity" is indeed often being abused; in

modern pantheizing liberalism, it means absolutely nothing. But the

divinity of Christ in the Pauline Epistles is to be understood in

the highest possible sense. The Pauline doctrine of the divinity of

Christ is not dependent upon individual passages; it does not depend

upon the question whether in Rom. ix. 5 Paul applies the term "God"

to Christ. Certainly he does so by any natural interpretation of his

words. But what is far more important is that the term "Lord" in

the Pauline Epistles, the characteristic Pauline name of Christ, is

every whit as much a designation of deity as is the term "God."[125]

Everywhere in the Epistles, moreover, the attitude of Paul toward

Christ is not merely the attitude of man to man, or scholar to

master; it is the attitude of man toward God.

[125] See Warfield, "'God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ,'" in

_Princeton Theological Review_, xv, 1917, pp. 1-20.

Such an attitude is absent from the apocalyptic representation of

the Messiah. For example, the way in which God and Christ are linked

together regularly at the beginnings of the Pauline Epistles--God

our father and the Lord Jesus Christ[126]--this can find no real

parallel in 1 Enoch. The isolated passages (1 Enoch xlix. 10; lxx.

1) where in 1 Enoch the Lord of Spirits and the Son of Man or the

Elect One are linked together by the word "and," do not begin to

approach the height of the Pauline conception. It is not surprising

and not particularly significant that the wicked are designated in

one passage as those who have "denied the Lord of Spirits and His

anointed" (1 Enoch xlix. 10). Such an expression would be natural

even if the Anointed One were, for example, merely an earthly king

of David's line. What is characteristic of Paul, on the other hand,

is that God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ are not merely

united by the conjunction "and" in isolated passages--that might

happen even if they belonged to different spheres of being--but

are united regularly and as a matter of course, and are just as

regularly separated from all other beings except the Holy Spirit.

Moreover, God and Christ, in Paul, have attributed to them the same

functions. Grace and peace, for example, come equally from both.

Such a representation would be quite incongruous in 1 Enoch. Equally

incongruous in 1 Enoch would be the Pauline separation of the Christ

from ordinary humanity and from angels. The author of 1 Enoch could

hardly have said, "Not from men nor through a man but through the

Elect One and the Lord of Spirits," as Paul says, "Not from men

nor through a man but through Jesus Christ and God the Father who

raised him from the dead" (Gal. i. 1). On the other hand, the way in

which 1 Enoch includes the Elect One in the middle of a long list of

beings who praise the Lord of Spirits (1 Enoch lxi. 10, 11) would be

absolutely inconceivable in Paul.

[126] Warfield, _loc. cit._

This stupendous difference is established not by isolated passages,

but by every page of the Pauline Epistles. The Pauline Christ is

exalted to an infinite height above the Messiah of the apocalypses.

How did He reach this height? Was it because He was identified with

Jesus of Nazareth? But that identification, if Jesus of Nazareth

were a mere man, would have dragged Him down rather than lifted

Him up. There lies the unsolved problem. Even if Paul before his

conversion believed in the heavenly Messiah of the apocalypses,

he had to exalt that Messiah far beyond all that had ever been

attributed to Him in the boldest visions of the Jewish seers, before

he could produce the Christ of the Epistles. Yet the only new thing

that had entered Paul's life was identification of the Messiah with

Jesus. Why did that identification lift the Messiah to the throne of

God? Who was this Jesus, who by His identification with the Messiah,

lifted the Messiah even far above men's wildest dreams?

Thus the Messianic doctrine of the apocalypses is an insufficient

basis for the Pauline Christology. Its insufficiency is admitted by

Hans Windisch.[127] But Windisch seeks to supply what is lacking

in the apocalyptic Messiah by appealing to the Jewish doctrine of

"Wisdom." The apocalyptic doctrine of the Messiah, Windisch admits,

will not explain the origin of the Pauline Christology; for example,

it will not explain Paul's doctrine of the activity of Christ in

creation. But "Wisdom" is thought to supply the lack.

[127] "Die göttliche Weisheit der Juden und die paulinische

Christologie," in _Neutestamentliche Studien Georg Heinrici

dargebracht_, 1914, pp. 220-234.

In Prov. viii, "wisdom" is celebrated in lofty terms, and is said

to have existed before the creation of the world. "Wisdom" is here

boldly personified in a poetic way. But she is not regarded as a

real person separate from God. In later books, however, notably

in the Alexandrian "Wisdom of Solomon," the personification is

developed until it seems to involve actual personality. Wisdom seems

to be regarded as an "hypostasis," a figure in some sort distinct

from God. This hypostasis, Windisch believes, was identified by Paul

with Christ, and the result was the Pauline Christology.

The figure of Wisdom, Windisch believes, will supply two elements

in the Pauline Christ-religion which are lacking in the Messiah

of the apocalypses. In the first place, it will account for the

Pauline notion that Christ was active in creation, since Wisdom in

Jewish belief is repeatedly represented as the assessor or even the

instrument of the Creator. In the second place, it will account for

the intimate relation between Paul and his Christ, since Wisdom is

represented in the "Wisdom of Solomon" as entering into the wise

man, and the wise man seems to be represented in Proverbs viii and

in Ecclesiasticus as the mouthpiece of Wisdom.[128]

[128] Windisch, _op. cit._, p. 226.

But when was the identification of the Messiah with Wisdom

accomplished? Was it accomplished by Paul himself after his

conversion? Or was it received by Paul from pre-Christian Jewish

doctrine? If it was accomplished by Paul himself after his

conversion, then absolutely no progress has been made toward the

explanation of the Pauline Christology. How did Paul come to

identify Jesus of Nazareth with the divine figure of Wisdom? It

could only have been because Jesus was such a person as to make the

identification natural. But that supposition is of course excluded

by the naturalistic principles with which Windisch is operating.

The identification of Jesus with Wisdom at or after the conversion

is, therefore, absolutely inexplicable; in substituting Wisdom for

the apocalyptic Messiah as the basis of the Pauline Christology,

Windisch has destroyed whatever measure of plausibility the theory

of Wrede and Brückner possessed. For it is really essential to

Wrede's theory that Paul before his conversion had not only believed

in the existence of a heavenly being like the Son of Man of 1 Enoch,

but had also expected that heavenly being to appear. Since he had

expected the heavenly being to appear, it might seem to be not so

absolutely inexplicable that he came to think that that being had

actually appeared in the person of Jesus. But no one expected Wisdom

to appear, in any more definite way than by the entrance which she

had already accomplished into the hearts of wise men. The thought

of an incarnation or a parousia of Wisdom is absolutely foreign to

Jewish thought. What possible reason was there, then, for Paul to

think that Wisdom actually had appeared and would finally appear

again in the person of Jesus?

Thus the theory of Windisch can be maintained only if the

identification of Wisdom with the Messiah was accomplished not by

Paul after the conversion but by pre-Christian Judaism. If Paul's

pre-Christian doctrine of the Messiah already contained vital

elements drawn from the doctrine of Wisdom, then and then only

might it be held that the Pauline Christ, with His activity in

creation and His spiritual indwelling in the believer, was merely

the pre-Christian Messiah. But was the pre-Christian Messiah ever

identified with the hypostasis Wisdom? Upon an affirmative answer

to this question depends the whole structure of Windisch's theory.

But Windisch passes the question over rather lightly. He tries,

indeed, to establish certain coincidences between the doctrine of

the Messiah in 1 Enoch and in the Septuagint translation of Micah v.

2 and Ps. cx. 3 on the one hand, and the descriptions of Wisdom on

the other; but the coincidences apparently amount to nothing except

the ascription of preëxistence to both figures. But the fundamental

trouble is that Windisch has an entirely inadequate conception of

what really needs to be proved. What Windisch really needs to do

is to ascribe to the pre-Christian doctrine of the Messiah two

elements--activity in creation and spiritual indwelling--which in

the extant sources are found not at all in the descriptions of the

Messiah but only in the descriptions of Wisdom. Even if he succeeded

in establishing verbal dependence of the descriptions of the Messiah

upon the descriptions of Wisdom, that would not really prove his

point at all. Such verbal dependence as a matter of fact has not

been established, but if it were established it would be without

significance. It would be far more completely devoid of significance

than is the similarity between the descriptions of the heavenly

Messiah as judge and the descriptions of God as judge. This latter

similarity may be significant, when taken in connection with other

evidence, as being a true anticipation of the Christian doctrine

of the deity of Christ, but in itself it will hardly be held (at

least it will hardly be held by Windisch) to establish the complete

personal identity, in Jewish thinking, of the Messiah and God, so

that everything that is said about God in pre-Christian Jewish

sources can henceforth be applied to the Messiah. Why then should

similarity in language between the descriptions of the Wisdom of God

as preëxistent and the descriptions of the Messiah as preëxistent

(even if that similarity existed) establish such identity between

the Messiah and Wisdom that what is attributed to Wisdom (notably

spiritual indwelling) can henceforth be attributed to the Messiah?

There is really no evidence whatever for supposing that the Messiah

was conceived of in pre-Christian Judaism either as being active in

creation or as dwelling in the hearts of men. Indeed, with regard

to the latter point, there is decisive evidence of the contrary.

The figure of the Messiah in the apocalypses is as incongruous as

anything can possibly be with the idea of spiritual indwelling.

Wisdom is conceived of as dwelling in the hearts of men only because

Wisdom in Jewish literature is not really or completely a concrete

person, but is also an abstract quality. The Messiah is a concrete

person and hence is not thought of as indwelling. It was something

absolutely without precedent, therefore, when Paul regarded his

Christ--who is nothing if not a person, and a person who may be

loved--as dwelling in the heart of the believer.

Objection will no doubt be raised against this treatment of the

idea of personality. Wisdom, we have argued, was never in Jewish

literature regarded consistently as a person distinct from God;

whereas the Messiah was always regarded as a person. Against this

argument it will be objected that the ancient world possessed no

idea of personality at all, so that the difference between Wisdom

and the Messiah disappears. But what is meant by the objection? If

it is meant only that the ancient world possessed no definition of

personality, the point may perhaps be conceded. But it is quite

irrelevant. If, on the other hand, what is meant is that the

ancients had no way of distinguishing between a person and a mere

quality, no way of feeling the difference even if the difference

could not be put into words, then an emphatic denial is in place.

Without such a power of practical, if not theoretical, distinction,

no mental or moral life at all, to say nothing of the highly

developed life of the Hellenistic age, would have been possible. It

is highly important, therefore, to observe that Wisdom in Jewish

literature hardly becomes regarded as a person in any consistent

way. Undoubtedly the hypostasizing has gone to considerable lengths,

but it is always possible for the writers to hark back to the

original sense of the word "wisdom"--to play at least upon the

original meaning. Wisdom seems to be treated not merely as a person

but also as an attribute of God.

Thus Windisch is entirely unjustified when he uses passages which

represent the Messiah as possessing "wisdom" to prove that the

Messiah was regarded as identical with Wisdom. A striking example

of this mistake is found in the treatment of 1 Enoch xlix. 3, where

it is said that in the Elect One "dwells the spirit of wisdom, and

the spirit which gives insight, and the spirit of understanding

and of might and the spirit of those who have fallen asleep in

righteousness." A still more striking example is found in the use

of 1 Cor. i. 24, 30, where Christ crucified is called the power of

God and the wisdom of God, and is said to have become to believers

wisdom and justification and sanctification and redemption. Windisch

actually uses these passages as evidence for the application to the

apocalyptic Messiah and to the Pauline Christ of the attributes of

the hypostasis Wisdom. Could anything be more utterly unwarranted?

The inclusion of "wisdom" in a considerable list of what the Son

of Man possesses or of what Christ means to the believer, far

from proving that 1 Enoch or Paul identified the Messiah with the

hypostasized Wisdom, rather proves, if proof be necessary, that they

did not make the identification. It is a very different thing to say

that Christ possesses wisdom (along with other qualities) or brings

wisdom to the believer (along with other gifts) from saying that

Christ is so identical with the hypostasis Wisdom of the "wisdom

literature" that what is there said about Wisdom is to be attributed

to Him. Windisch himself observes, very significantly, that Paul

could not actually designate Christ as "Wisdom" because the word

wisdom is of feminine gender in Greek. The difference of gender is

here the symbol of a profound difference in essential character. The

figure of Wisdom in Jewish literature, with its curious vacillation

between personality and abstraction, is absolutely incongruous with

the warm, living, concrete, personal figure of the Pauline Christ.

The two belong to totally different circles of ideas. No wonder that

even Bousset (as Windisch complains) has not ventured to bring them

into connection. The Pauline Christology was certainly not based

upon the pre-Christian doctrine of Wisdom.

Thus the first great objection to Wrede's derivation of the Pauline

Christology is that it is simply insufficient. The Messiah of the

Jewish apocalypses is not great enough to have been the basis of

the Pauline Christ. If before the conversion Paul had believed in

the apocalyptic Messiah, then when he was converted he lifted his

conception to far greater heights than it had before attained. But

what caused him to do so? Apparently he ought to have done exactly

the reverse. If Jesus was a mere man, then the identification of the

Messiah with Him ought to have pushed the conception of the Messiah

down instead of lifting it up. As Baldensperger significantly

remarks, the Jewish apocalyptists faced less difficulty in

presenting a transcendent Messiah than did their successors, the

exponents of a metaphysical Christology in the Christian Church,

since the Jewish apocalyptists could give free course to their

fancy, whereas the Christians were hampered by the recollections

of the earthly Jesus.[129] This observation, on the basis of

Baldensperger's naturalistic presuppositions, is entirely correct.

But the strange thing is that the recollections of Jesus, far

from hampering the Christians in their ascription of supernatural

attributes to the Messiah, actually had just the opposite effect.

Paul furnishes a striking example. Before he identified the Messiah

with Jesus, he did not really think of the Messiah as divine--not

even if he believed in the transcendent Messiah of 1 Enoch. But

after he identified the Messiah with Jesus, he said "not by man but

by Christ." Why was it that identification with Jesus, instead of

bringing the apocalyptic Messiah down to earth, lifted Him rather

to the throne of God? Was it, after all, because of something in

Jesus? If it was, then the eternal Son of God walked upon earth, and

suffered for the sins of men. If it was not, then the fundamental

historical problem of Christianity is still entirely unsolved.

[129] Baldensperger, _op. cit._, p. 126.

But another objection faces the solution proposed by Wrede and

Brückner. Suppose the apocalyptic doctrine of the Messiah were

really adequate to the strain which is placed upon it. Suppose

it really represented the Messiah as active in creation and as

indwelling in the hearts of the faithful and as exalted to the

throne of God. These suppositions are entirely without warrant

in the facts; they transcend by far even the claims of Wrede and

Brückner themselves. But suppose they were correct. Even then the

genesis of Paul's religion would not be explained. Suppose the

Pauline doctrine of the Messiah really was complete in his mind

before he was converted. Even then, another problem remains. How

did he come to identify his exalted Messiah with a Jew who had

lived but a few years before and had died a shameful death? The

thing might be explained if Jesus was what He is represented in

all of the extant sources as being--a supernatural person whose

glory shone out plain even through the veil of flesh. It might be

explained if Paul before his conversion really believed that the

heavenly Christ was to come to earth before His final parousia and

die an accursed death. But the former alternative is excluded by the

naturalistic presuppositions of the modern man. And the latter is

excluded by an overwhelming weight of evidence as to pre-Christian

Judaism and the pre-Christian life of Paul. How then did Paul come

to identify his heavenly Messiah with Jesus of Nazareth? It could

only have been through the strange experience which he had near

Damascus. But what, in turn, caused that experience? No answer, on

the basis of naturalistic presuppositions, has yet been given. In

removing the supernatural from the earthly life of Jesus, modern

naturalism has precluded the only possible naturalistic explanation

of the conversion of Paul. If Jesus had given evidence of being

the heavenly Son of Man, then Paul might conceivably, though

still not probably, have become convinced against his will, and

might, conceivably though still not probably, have experienced an

hallucination in which he thought he saw Jesus living in glory. But

if Jesus was a mere man, the identification of Him with the heavenly

apocalyptic Messiah becomes inconceivable, and the experience

through which that identification took place is left absolutely

uncaused. Thus the hypothesis of Wrede and Brückner defeats itself.

In arguing that Paul's pre-conversion conception of the Messiah was

not a conception of a mere earthly being or the like, but that of a

transcendent being, Wrede and Brückner are really digging the grave

of their own theory. For the more exalted was the Messiah in whom

Paul believed before his conversion, the more inexplicable becomes

the identification of that Messiah with a crucified malefactor.

But still another objection remains. Suppose the Pauline Christ

were simply the Messiah of the Jewish apocalypses; suppose Paul

knew so little about the historical Jesus that he could even

identify the exalted Messiah with Him. Even then another fact

requires explanation. How did Paul come to be so strikingly similar

to the historical Jesus both in teaching and in character? Wrede

was audacious enough to explain the similarity as due to a common

dependence upon Judaism.[130] But at this point few have followed

him. For the striking fact is that Paul agrees with Jesus in just

those matters to which Judaism was most signally opposed. It would

be more plausible to say that Paul agrees with Jesus because

both of them abandoned contemporary Judaism and returned to the

Old Testament prophets. But even that explanation would be quite

inadequate. The similarity between Jesus and Paul goes far beyond

what both hold in common with the Prophets and the Psalms. And why

did two men return to the Prophets and Psalms at just the same time

and in just the same way? The similarity between Jesus and Paul

might then be regarded as due to mere chance. Paul, it might be

supposed, developed the ideal of Christian love from the death of

the Messiah, which he interpreted as an act of self-sacrifice.[131]

This ideal of love happened to be just the same as that which

Jesus of Nazareth exemplified in a life of service--to which

life of service, however, Paul was completely indifferent. Such,

essentially, is what the hypothesis of Wrede really amounts to.

The hypothesis is really absurd. But its absurdity is instructive.

It is an absurdity to which the naturalistic account of the origin

of Christianity is driven by an inexorable logic. Paul, it must be

supposed, could not have regarded Jesus as a divine being if he had

really known Jesus. The similarity of his life and teaching to

that of Jesus cannot, therefore, be due to knowledge of Jesus. It

must therefore be due to chance. In other words, it is dangerous,

on naturalistic principles, to bring Paul into contact with Jesus.

For if he is brought into contact with Jesus, his witness to Jesus

will have to be heard. And when his witness is heard, the elaborate

modern reconstructions of the "liberal Jesus" fall to the ground.

For according to Paul, Jesus was no mere Galilean prophet, but the

Lord of Glory.

[130] Wrede, _Paulus_, 1904, pp. 90, 91 (English Translation,

_Paul_, 1907, pp. 157, 158).

[131] See Brückner, _op. cit._, p. 237.