Senses of οὐρανός, Hebrews 12.25–29, and the Destiny of the Cosmos

Stephen Wunrow addresses the pressing question of what the author of Hebrews meant by his descriptions of heaven, arguing that the author intended his references to heavenly space to be interpreted as realistic descriptions of a real place. Wunrow posits that language about heaven is neither metaphor nor a description of a “place” outside the creation, by examining other early Jewish and Christian texts that narrate or describe humans ascending into heaven. Given the nature and the function of heavenly space as described in these texts, Wunrow suggests it is most probable that the authors of the texts intended their descriptions of heavenly space to be understood as realistic. Wunrow thus explores 1 and 2 Enoch, 4 Ezra, 2 and 3 Baruch, the Apocalypse of Abraham, the Testament of Levi, the Testament of Abraham, the Ascension of Isaiah, and Revelation; investigating how other roughly contemporary authors described heavenly space, and considering that the rhetorical aims of most of these authors fail unless their readers understand their descriptions of heavenly space in realistic ways. Turning then to examine Hebrews, Wunrow suggests that while the letter does contain unique features and rhetorical aims, it also fits comfortably with other early Jewish and Christian texts that describe humans ascending into heaven in a realistic manner. He concludes with reflections on how this conclusion helps to clarify other topics in Hebrews, including atonement and eschatology.

Reviewed by: The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts by Ronald Charles Mary Ann Beavis ronald charles, The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts (Routledge Studies in the Early Christian World; London: Routledge, 2020). Pp. xvii + 272. $124. This book sets out to examine a wide range of early Jewish and Christian texts in which enslaved figures are represented and, according to Charles, rendered silent, by their authors, “who had no intrinsic interest in slaves . . . used, abused, and silenced their enslaved characters to articulate their own social, political, and theological visions” (p. 1) The Jewish texts considered all belong to the so-called Pseudepigrapha: Sibylline Oracles, Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, Testament of Job, Letter of Aristeas, Jubilees, Joseph and Aseneth, and Wisdom writings that include Ahiqar, 3 Maccabees, Pseudo-Phocylides, and the Sentences of the Syriac Menander. The early Christian writings are both canonical and extra-canonical: 1 Corinthians, Philippians, Philemon, the Gospels, Acts, the Passion of Perpetua and Felicitas, Acta Perpetuae, Letter of the Churches of Lyons and Vienne, and the Acts of Andrew. C. approaches these texts through the lenses of Michel-Rolph Trouillot’s Silencing [End Page 330] the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston: Beacon, 1995), and Subaltern studies, to “uncover small tales constructed around slaves, or better, to consider how particular narratives could be understood differently if the reader pays attention to enslaved persons in their characterizations in the texts” (p. 12). Not surprisingly in a project that covers so much ground, the results are uneven. In my reading, several “small tales” stand out: the slave woman in the Testament of Job who gives her own loaf of bread to Satan, disguised as a stranger, when Job snubs him (7:5). Admittedly, the woman is rebuked for her kind act, but by Satan, hardly a reliable character. C. pays special attention to the slave characters—an unnamed slave girl and Malchus, the male slave of the high priest named in John 18:10—who figure in the scene of the denial of Peter (Mark 14:66–68; Matt 26:69–71; Luke 22:56; John 18:15–26), meticulously detailing the unique features of each narrative. C. highlights both the devalued figure of Rhoda (Acts 12:1–16) and the unnamed fortune-teller of Acts 16:16–18, characters often neglected by interpreters. Although all act/speak truthfully (and, in the case of the slave woman in Testament of Job, righteously), their words are dismissed, like the true words of the women disciples in Luke 24:11. Similarly, the slave Felicitas is sidelined by the freeborn Perpetua in the Passion, and both women are silenced in the Acts. In the Acts of Andrew, the body of the slave woman Euclia is used, abused, and discarded to preserve the chastity of her Christian mistress Maximilla: “The body of the elite woman is protected, while the body of the slave is exploited” (p. 196). Several of C.’s interpretive moves are less compelling. Some of the references to slaves in the pseudepigraphal writings he includes are slight or nonexplicit, as with the figure of Hermon in 3 Maccabees 5, who “is not explicitly called one [a slave] in the text” (p. 47). The observation that “he is an administrative person, who is in danger of being killed because of the king’s caprice” (p. 47), suffices to explain his vulnerability. C. adopts the traditional, but highly contested, hypothesis that Onesimus (Phlm 10) was a runaway slave, although why a fugitive slave would seek refuge by visiting a Roman prisoner is not explained. C. assumes that Epaphroditus (Phil 2:19, 25; 4:18) was a freedman (and thus outside the scope of the study), although he could just as likely have been enslaved or freeborn. To be sure, Eusebius’s construction of Blandina as a Christ figure whose death has cosmic significance (p. 182) subordinates her to a “highly theologized salvation history” (p. 183), but this is no different from his portrayal of other martyrs, enslaved or free. Charles’s study features a conclusion that thoroughly summarizes his analysis, chapter by chapter, seemingly in response to the critiques of...

The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts analyzes a large corpus of early Christian texts and Pseudepigraphic materials to understand how the authors of these texts used, abused and silenced enslaved characters to articulate their own social, political, and theological visions. The focus is on excavating the texts "from below" or "against the grain" in order to notice the slaves, and in so doing, to problematize and (re)imagine the narratives. Noticing the slaves as literary iterations means paying attention to broader theological, ideological, and rhetorical aims of the texts within which enslaved bodies are constructed. The analysis demonstrates that by silencing slaves and using a rhetoric of violence, the authors of these texts contributed to the construction of myths in which slaves functioned as a useful trope to support the combined power of religion and empire. Thus was created not only the perfect template for the rise and development of a Christian discourse of slavery, but also a rationale for subsequent violence exercised against slave bodies within the Christian Empire. The study demonstrates the value of using the tools and applying the insights of subaltern studies to the study of the Pseudepigrapha and in early Christian texts. This volume will be of interest not only to scholars of early Christianity, but also to those working on the history of slavery and subaltern studies in antiquity.

Reviewed by: The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts by R. Charles Chris L. de Wet Charles, R. 2020. The Silencing of Slaves in Early Jewish and Christian Texts. Routledge Studies in the Early Christian World. London: Routledge. Hardcover. ISBN 978-0367204341. Pp. xvii + 272. $160.00. The study of slavery, both ancient and modern, has become a theoretically rich and robust field, exhibiting numerous inter- and multidisciplinary approaches to try to "get to the bottom" of texts and contexts related to enslavement. The study of slavery in biblical and extra-biblical material is no exception to this move. Ronald Charles's interesting and important monograph situates itself fully in this critical theoretical stance with regard to ancient slavery, successfully using the work of Michel-Rolph Trouillot, specifically Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston: Beacon, 1995). The principle in this regard is that within historiographical production, various voices are lifted up, while others are silenced. In order to give voice to the voiceless slaves in some of these historical texts, Charles engages in subaltern readings—reading from below and from the perspective of the oppressed, against the typical elite and imperial/colonial tendencies in the texts. The important contribution of such an approach, for the study of ancient slavery, is that it once again warns us that we cannot take texts about slavery at face value and as adequate representations of the "majority" of ancient life and its inhabitants. What I enjoyed about the book is its reading of seemingly "small tales" of slaves, in order to give these due significance and meaning through imaginative reading. Charles writes: My task is to uncover small tales constructed around slaves, or better, to consider how particular narratives could be understood differently if the reader pays attention to enslaved persons in their characterizations in the texts. Slaves are, for the most part, silent or silenced in the narratives. One may wish there were more precise ways to get at their voices, desires, activities, and personal thoughts in the texts we investigate. The alternative reading of probing silence and of trying to understand unspoken utterances is not an easy task. Reading against the grain requires alertness to the gaps in the texts. Making silence speak requires much patience and attentiveness to minute details by proceeding tentatively and noticing passing or dismissive comments. It also requires a commitment on the part of the historian to actually see the [End Page 193] presence of marginalized and enslaved peoples that are rendered invisible, and hear their voices that are made mute in the texts, around the texts, and outside of the texts. (12; his italics) In my own research on slavery (see De Wet 2015; 2018), I have often experienced the same challenge that Charles highlights here. Because of the fact that slaves are usually not the primary actors in ancient texts, we often need to fill the gaps of silence we see in the historical record. This is not an easy task, and sometimes it is accomplished with more success than at other times. But it remains a necessary task. The implication is that, at times, we need to "read in," or eisegete, certain plausible possibilities into a text, which does hold risks. For instance, Charles allows for the possibility that figures such as Hermon in 3 Macc 5 or Epaphroditus (in Philippians) could have been slaves or former slaves, in the case of the latter, although there is very little evidence to actually confirm or deny this. So, at times, there is an engagement in imaginative reading in order to retrieve some of the possibly lost voices of slaves. Nevertheless, the theoretical approach in the book is a welcome addition to the study of ancient slavery. In terms of the coverage of ancient materials, the book is very ambitious. The book covers slaves in the pseudepigrapha, Pauline literature of the NT, slaves in the Gospels and Acts, slaves in the martyr narratives (specifically the works related to Felicitas and Blandina), and finally, slaves in the Acts of Andrew. The chapter on the pseudepigrapha looks at the Sibylline Oracles, Testament of Joseph, Testament of Job, Letter of Aristeas, Jubilees...

The Didache represents a community that has long since determined its place within its epic imagination. The community of the Didache found an important source for its epic imagination within the stories, themes, and passages of the Hebrew Scriptures, and in fact has transferred important items within the tradition to its own epic: past temple sacrifices are now communal meals; officiating priests are now prophets, teachers, and apostles; and the temple is now the church. The community also has a complete set of ethical guidelines or laws. In contrast to other early Christian texts, the Didache is remarkably calm in its rhetoric. In fact, its selection of themes or stories from the Hebrew Scriptures neglects violent or destructive episodes which were important to other early Jewish and Christian texts, such as the flood, the conquest, or the destruction of Jerusalem. Keywords: Christian texts; Didache ; epic imagination; Hebrew Scriptures

Divine Discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews: The Recontextualization of Spoken Quotations of Scripture. Society for New Testament Studies Monograph 178

Abstract: Whereas Richard Swinburne has tried to make a case for the rationality of Christian revelation, this article argues for the rationality of early Christian discourse. Early Christian texts display a type of “formal” rationality that is not an attribute of Christian revelation, intending authors, or historical contexts, but rather is a property of the discursive series to which they belong. Early Christian texts could come into existence only by achieving a relational coexistence with other, previously existing, non-Christian texts within a shared associative discursive series. Such an addition of a Christian text to a discursive series was always governed by the shared “rules” of coherence of the series itself. As a starting point for elucidating these “rules” of coherence, this article examines the structures of social grouping, social interaction, and social values as they were reproduced in the linguistic categories of Hellenistic Greek. This article further argues that the emergence of biblical texts within their respective discursive series occurred according to two strategies, synchronic and diachronic emergence. Synchronic emergence involves the addition of texts to a discursive series in such a way that the “rules” of the series are instantiated without significant alteration. In contrast, the term diachronic emergence designates the addition of texts to a series whereby the “rules” are instantiated in a novel or unexpected manner. In both cases, the emergence of early Christian texts is a function of formal rational processes.

Reviewed by: The Glory of the Invisible God: Two Powers in Heaven Traditions and Early Christology by Andrei Orlov Adiel Schremer andrei orlov, The Glory of the Invisible God: Two Powers in Heaven Traditions and Early Christology (Jewish and Christian Texts in Contexts and Related Studies 31; London: T&T Clark, 2019). Pp. xiii + 224. $120. This book explores various theophanies described in ancient Jewish and early Christian texts, in which God appears alongside a second, divine figure. It points at a process, common to these texts, whereby God’s visual attributes are transferred to the second figure, who is also bestowed with God’s Glory (Hebrew kābôd), while God withdraws into an aniconic aural mode and becomes invisible. This process, according to O., is one of the major characteristics of the NT accounts of the baptism and the transfiguration of Jesus. He suggests that Jesus’s divine identity was developed in the NT materials through the bestowal of God’s visual attributes on Jesus, and that the earliest christology emerges from the creative tension of the ocularcentric and aural theophanic molds, in which God abandons the divine corporeal profile so as to release it for the second figure, “who from then on becomes the image and the glory of the invisible God” (p. 190). Part 2, which is the book’s real focus, is devoted to “Two Powers in Heaven Traditions in Early Christian Accounts.” As frequently noted in previous scholarship, “Already within the earliest Christian testimonies preserved in the Pauline corpus, one can see clear tendencies toward the promulgation of the glory language” (p. 79), and a “predisposition to transfer the attributes and functions of the divine Glory to Jesus” (ibid.). O. adds that “the refashioning of the second power’s theophanic makeup goes hand-in-hand with the deity’s abandonment of its visual, corporeal dimension and its withdrawal into the aniconic aural mode” (p. 83). In his opinion, these two inverse conceptual dynamics “proved to be of paramount significance for the development of early Christology” (ibid.). To facilitate this analysis O. suggests looking at the NT material through the prism of Two Powers in Heaven traditions found in early Jewish texts, and part 1 is devoted to this task. O. begins with the well-known passage in Dan 7:9–14 and proceeds to other Second Temple Jewish texts, including the extrabiblical apocalypse known as the Book of the [End Page 345] Similitudes, and to some later Jewish texts, such as the Primary Adam Books, the Exagoge of Ezekiel the Tragedian, 2 Enoch, the Apocalypse of Abraham, and the Ladder of Jacob. Then he turns to a discussion of “Theophanic Molds in Rabbinic and Hekhalot Two Powers Debates,” where the well-known Pardes story is given much attention and is treated at some length. The relevance of these texts is not simple, however, and, as O. himself notes, they do not represent a single picture. In the ocularcentric theophanies (where both powers are fashioned in ocularcentric mode), as found in the first three texts (Primary Adam Books, Exagoge of Ezekiel, and 2 Enoch), God appears first. In contrast, in the theophanies attested in the other two texts—the Apocalypse of Abraham and the Ladder of Jacob—the second power is depicted first, “followed by the aural epiphany of the first power, which manifests itself as the hypostatic voice” (p. 88). This raises the question of how much of the Jewish material is really relevant to the understanding of the theophanic narratives in the NT. It seems, however, that the main problem with the book lies in its very application of Two Powers in Heaven terminology to the NT material. The key term, “Two Powers in Heaven,” is entirely absent from the above Jewish texts, and the early rabbinic sources in which it is found do not use it in relation to a theophany of whatever kind. Moreover, the rabbinic sources never refer to a specific figure who might be considered a “second power.” Rather, they use it as a general theological concept, according to which there is more than one God. Of the identity and characteristics of the “second power” they say virtually nothing...

This chapter explores some of the methodological issues raised in the process of interpreting art as biblical interpretation. It raises three methodological points concerning the relationship between textual and iconic representations of biblical narratives and scenes. The first point concerns the nature of the relationship between texts and artistic productions. The second point concerns the mechanics and economics of art production. The chapter focuses on one aspect of Akedah iconography - the positioning of Isaac - to see what attention to this graphic element may and may not tell us about the reception of the biblical story in Jewish and Christian community contexts from late antiquity and forward. It suggests that the kneeling Isaac iconography originally developed by way of Isaac's prior cultural role, along with Daniel, the three young men, and other figures, as a model for martyrs. Keywords:Akedah iconography; artistic productions; Christian texts; Isaac; Jewish art; martyrs

Reviewed by: In the Eye of the Animal: Zoological Imagination in Ancient Christianity by Patricia Cox Miller Rachel Wheeler (bio) In the Eye of the Animal: Zoological Imagination in Ancient Christianity. By Patricia Cox Miller. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2018. 271 pp. $79.95 Patricia Cox Miller's newest book takes issue with Lynn White's contention that Christianity, as the most anthropocentric of all spiritual traditions, is thus most responsible for ecological crisis ("The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis," 1967). In Miller's view, early Christian writers expressed equivocation regarding anthropocentrism in ways that anticipate contemporary sensibilities. Even in patristic texts that seemingly promote human exceptionalism there remains an uneasiness around this self-identification. In the texts interpreted by Miller, a continuity between animal and human identity problematizes dogmatic assertions that theorize humanity's identity as the sole bearer of the imago Dei. Animals thus often appear as exemplars for humans, enacting virtues that school Christian readers in their own spiritual formation. And yet, animals are not seen as simply instrumental to human perfection; instead, a poignant cross-species intimacy appears in these ancient Christian texts as animals and humans share life together. The Introduction succinctly announces Miller's intention: "to be attentive precisely to what the animals are saying and doing, so as to engage ancient Christianity's kinships with them that have often gone unnoticed" (3). Miller believes that a "zoological imagination" emerged in early Christian texts that resists the "rhetoric of domination" justified by certain readings of Genesis. Chapter One, "Animals and Figuration," examines the case of birds, a natural place to start as birds capable of flight imaged the human soul for many ancient writers. Peacocks, doves, and pelicans also enable Miller to quickly establish her point: the "simultaneous embrace and distancing of animals in terms of their continuity, even their shared moral being (even their superiority) with humans is part of the paradox that lies at the center of this book" (29). Chapters Two and Three, "The Pensivity of Animals, I & II," allows Miller to explore animals in early Christian texts from two angles: zoomorphism and anthropomorphism. The first angle ("zoomorphism") explores animal form as a way of speaking of the human. Here, her argument draws strength from Augustine's sermons, in which he addresses his congregation as "asses" to underscore their difference from and similarities to such creatures, all for the purpose of spiritual transformation. Miller concludes that "Zoomorphic interpretations such as this one depend on a willingness to become entangled with an animal, and to explore the possibilities of meaning that such a venture opens up" (55). Augustine's writings express both a discontent with anthropocentrism and a subtle undermining of it, while "nudging human consciousness toward a new awareness of itself" (77). Miller's second angle ("anthropomorphism") helpfully contrasts anthropocentrism [End Page 365] with anthropomorphism, the former emphasizing separation and the latter emphasizing connection between humans and animals. How are humans and animals connected? Numerous stories demonstrate animals' possession and use of rational thought by speech and gesture, a striking contrast to the prevailing assumption of human exceptionalism (anthropocentrism) in much of Christianity. However, Miller draws on Merleau-Ponty's notion of "strange kinship" to explain human-animal continuity as a function of shared embodiment rather than shared rationality (however identified by such writers). Appropriately, these two chapters end with a reflection on the centaur in Jerome's Life of Paul to demonstrate the hybridity of "strange kinship" drawing the human and animal into intimate proximity in a singular embodiment; the image of the centaur functions to both highlight nostalgia for the pre-cultural condition of animals and underscore the inner and essential animality of human life. Chapter Four, "Wild Animals," looks specifically at ascetics who chose to live in desert environments, invading animals' natural habitats and learning to live peaceably with such wild animals as lions and wolves. Here, Miller uses affect theory to explore how intimacy, touch, and emotions are part and parcel of human-animal relations. Her observation is that, in many of these stories of desert ascetics, human holiness is envisaged as the ability to have friendly encounters with animals (126): to care for them...

In distinction from magical rituals, which are typically intended to ward off malevolent beings or to coerce spirits to do the will of the person or persons performing the rituals, in worship devotees express a more positive stance of thanksgiving and adoration, subordination to, and dependence on the object of worship. Although worship can be offered by individuals privately, early Christian worship was more typically sited in the gathered ekklēsia (congregation/church). Historians of liturgy probe early Christian texts for origins of subsequent liturgical practices and forms but with limited results. The earliest Christian texts (e.g., the New Testament) presuppose early Christian worship, however, and do not reflect any common order of worship. The earliest examples of any set liturgical order come from the 3rd century ce and later. New Testament scholars have tended to focus on various matters other than worship (e.g., early Christian beliefs, social setting, and questions about specific texts), but in recent decades there has been a small renewal of interest in worship as an important topic. Some recent studies explore the relationship of early Christian worship practices to the Roman-era context and especially the Jewish religious matrix in which Christian faith emerged. However, similarities granted, several features distinguish early Christian worship. Along with ancient Judaism, early Christians also were to worship solely the one God of biblical tradition and to refuse to worship the various other deities of the Roman world. At an astonishingly early point, however, believers also treated the risen/ascended Jesus as rightful recipient of corporate and private devotion with God, thereby also distinguishing themselves from the Jewish tradition. In addition, Sunday (the first day of the week) became the particular and distinguishing day for corporate worship. Moreover, whereas animal sacrifice was a typical component of worship in pagan circles and also in Jewish religion (prior to the destruction of the Jerusalem temple), it was not a feature of early Christian worship. The specific phenomena of early Christian worship also form a scholarly focus. Practices likely varied among churches of the time, but verbal expressions of praise, thanksgiving, and adoration including hymnic ones were apparently common. Spiritual gifts (e.g., prophecy, tongues speaking), phenomena ascribed to the Holy Spirit, are also featured. Corporate worship was to be regarded as an occasion of transcendent significance and character; angels were thought to be present as the earthly worship joined with that of heaven.

Reviewed by: Hebrews and the Temple: Attitudes to the Temple in Second Temple Judaism and in Hebrews by Philip Church Daniel L. Smith Philip Church. Hebrews and the Temple: Attitudes to the Temple in Second Temple Judaism and in Hebrews. Supplements to Novum Testamentum 171. Leiden: Brill, 2017. 615 pp. doi:10.1017/S0364009420000185 The Epistle to the Hebrews might seem an odd focus for a monograph on "attitudes to the Temple." After all, there is no explicit mention of the Jerusalem Temple in all of Hebrews, and the one mention of Jerusalem is modified by the descriptor "heavenly" (12:22). While the wilderness tabernacle appears, along with Moses (e.g., in 8:5), the author of Hebrews nowhere refers to Solomon, Zerubbabel, or Herod. Undaunted, Philip Church sets out to address the "temple symbolism" in Hebrews; he is convinced that the Jerusalem Temple "lies just beneath the surface" of the text at hand (16). Like the author of Hebrews, however, Church fixes his attention on things heavenly. His main claim hinges on the exegesis of a controversial verse, Hebrews 8:5, which many scholars have understood to describe the wilderness tabernacle as a mere "copy and shadow" of the heavenly sanctuary. Instead, Church proposes that the wilderness tabernacle, Solomon's Temple, and the Second Temple—which he believes was still standing at the time when Hebrews was composed—all "prefigured the heavenly temple, which is to be understood as the eschatological dwelling of God with his people" (433). It is the "heavenly temple" that constitutes the ultimate telos of Church's investigation, which will canvas ancient views of sanctuaries both terrestrial and celestial. [End Page 422] This important contribution is a "revised and abbreviated" version of the author's dissertation (ix), written at the University of Otago under the supervision of James Harding and Chris Marshall. The introductory chapter starts off on a worrisome note, when Church announces that this treatment of "temple symbolism" will "use the terms 'symbol/symbolism' and 'metaphor' more or less interchangeably, depending on the context" (5 n. 14). Such a carefree approach to terms so foundational to the study does little to inspire confidence in the reader; fortunately, Church proves to be much more responsible and careful in the chapters that follow. Church divides his work into two parts. Part 1 surveys "Attitudes to the Temple in the Literature of Second Temple Judaism," classifying this literature into four categories. Texts that manifest a positive view of the Temple, from Sirach to the Letter of Aristeas to 2 Enoch, are gathered in the second chapter, entitled "Temple Affirmed." Chapter 3 collects relevant passages from the Dead Sea Scrolls under the heading "Temple Rejected," and the fourth chapter, "Temple Contested," characterizes 1 Enoch, Jubilees, the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, and the Testament of Moses as texts reflecting "dissatisfaction" with the Temple. Chapter 5 rounds out the first part with a treatment of texts that respond to the destruction of the Second Temple, including 4 Ezra, the Sibylline Oracles (books 4 and 5), and Josephus. In these chapters, Church has compiled a valuable resource for scholars of Second Temple Judaism, as he assembles not only direct references to the Jerusalem Temple, but also a wider range of texts that include related imagery and language —hence, the broad label of "temple symbolism." Categorizing, though a useful task, often flattens out ambiguities and complexities that are worth preserving. This project is no exception. For example, Church acknowledges that 1 Enoch is a "composite document" (145), yet he files the whole text under the label "Temple Contested." The Animal Apocalypse (1 Enoch 85–90) supports this classification, as it describes the rebuilding of a temple (or "high tower") that is furnished with unclean bread and that stands among those who are "blinded" (1 Enoch 89:73–74). However, the Book of Watchers (1–36) is likewise said to "imply some critique of the temple and its priesthood" (146), even though the heavenly visions and cosmic travels of the antediluvian Enoch appear to be more concerned with a heavenly sanctuary than with the Jerusalem Temple. Should silence be so easily equated with critique? If these two texts were not transmitted...

A collection of essays that offers a genuinely comparative perspective for the exegesis of early Jewish and Christian texts. The book steps beyond the older program of searching for philological traces of Aramaism in the Gospels, and presses the essential question: how might we use these obviously related documents to illuminate one another? For scholars and advanced students of either the New Testament or the Targums. Also intended for courses in the Judaic aspect of early Christianity. A volume in the Studies in Judaism series.

Reviewed by: The Temple in Early Christianity: Experiencing the Sacred by Eyal Regev Margaret Barker eyal regev, The Temple in Early Christianity: Experiencing the Sacred (AYBRL; New Haven: Yale University Press, 2019). Pp. xiii + 480. $65. “This book discusses the Temple, its meaning and function, and how it was viewed by the early Christians” (p. 2). This how Eyal Regev describes his book, and he begins with the assumption that he is exploring “the creation of a new belief system in first century Judaea” (p. ix). He considers each area of the NT in turn: Jesus himself, Paul’s letters, Mark, Q and Matthew, Luke-Acts, the Gospel of John, the Book of Revelation, Hebrews, and then some thoughts relating to Judaism. In each section he takes “temple” passages and surveys the work of a number of NT scholars, most of a Protestant or post-Protestant persuasion. He offers his own evaluation of their work, making clear that so much has been written on the subject that he has chosen only information that he deems relevant (p. 3). The “cleansing of the temple” is the first major exploration. If the church saw itself as the new spiritual temple (1 Pet 2:4–8), why was Jesus angry? After surveying the many explanations offered by scholars, R. concludes that Jesus was angry at the money used in the temple: “Jesus protests neither against the Temple itself, nor the priests, but against the unrighteous activity that employs or generates corrupted money” (p. 33). He then considers Jesus’s trial, and the accusation that Jesus said he would destroy the temple and rebuild it (Mark 14:58–62), concluding that the account is probably inauthentic: “The idea that the Messiah will first destroy the temple before he rebuilds it is, to say the least, unfounded and strange” (p. 39). He supports this by saying that one has to distinguish between rebuilding Jerusalem and rebuilding the temple, as in, for example, 1 Enoch 90:28–29. R. has a similar argument for the parable of the tenants of the vineyard (Mark 12:1–12), which he says is about the temple authorities, not about the temple (p. 112); and the prophecy of destruction (Mark 13:2) was also about the city and not the temple (p. 115). Regev sees the temple in a good light and finds that the Gospel writers agree with him: Matthew is favorable toward the temple; Mark has a positive attitude; and John uses the temple as an explanatory model for understanding Jesus. R.’s observations about Luke are interesting: Luke shows that the temple belongs to Christians as well as Jews and has a favorable attitude toward the priests (pp. 173–74). The section on Hebrews illustrates well the difficulties of R.’s task with respect to Jesus as the great high priest, the role of Melchizedek, and the nature of the atonement sacrifice. R. notes that Hebrews does not mention the temple, only the tabernacle, and he argues that the author of Hebrews uses a variety of arguments for the high priesthood of Jesus, suggesting that “this is a new idea for his readers” (p. 256). He concludes that Hebrews’ christology “is not a direct continuation of the earliest understanding of Jesus’ death and resurrection. Jesus’ high priesthood does not explain his crucifixion and death.” Jesus’s death and resurrection were interpreted in cultic terms, and the author drew on various external traditions about a high priest serving in heaven (p. 263). How do we know what constituted “external traditions” for the first Christians? Presumably there must have been such traditions if the Christians were creating something new. Regev seems overly influenced by the residual sola scriptura of his largely Protestant sources, and he uses “ransom” rather often in the context of the death of Jesus. R. then develops his ideas about sacrifice in Hebrews and shows how Jesus’s self-sacrifice differs from the sacrificial system of the Pentateuch, “which assumes that humans will always [End Page 522] commit sin, making the cult repetitive” (p. 269). He draws important conclusions: “In Hebrews the priestly system continues in a new and better format when it serves as the...

Examples of sexual violence and mentions of it appear with a disturbing level of frequency in the literature of early Christianity. This collection of essays explores these occurrences in canonical and noncanonical Christian texts from the first until the fifth centuries CE. Drawing from a range of interpretive lenses, scholars of early Christianity approach these writings with the goal of identifying how their authors employ the language of sexual assault, rape, and violence in order to formulate and support various rhetorical and theological claims. Individual chapters also address how and why these episodes of sexual violence have been ignored or, sometimes, read in a way that would make them less problematic. As a collection, Sex, Violence, and Early Christian Texts examines these texts carefully, ethically, and with an eye toward shining a light on the scourge of sexual violence that is so often manifest in both ancient and contemporary Christian communities.