A discussion about historical criticism and the biblical literature

Introduction: Going Against Conventional Wisdom

“Those were probably some pretty heated conversations,” my friend Ryan and I laughed about last night seated around an outdoor fire at our friend Gabe’s house.

“Ok, guys, we’re going to take this knife, and you know…” Ryan pauses for dramatic effect, I jump in, capitalizing on his rhetorical cliffhanger, “…and circumcise the flesh of your foreskins, as a sign of the covenant!” I say with an exaggerated, authoritative tone, paraphrasing Genesis 17.

The three of us grimace and laugh.

The full assigned gospel reading from the lectionary for today is a split text from Matthew: Matt. 15.10-20, 21-28. The second part of this reading describes an encounter between Jesus and a Canaanite woman (Mark calls her syrophoenician). The latter reading is ripe for historical interpretation having to do with the regional politics in the first century and a discussion of the Jesus movement’s mission to non-Jews. That discussion would be excellent, and I hope you read the assigned text in its entirety, maybe applying some of the interpretive tools we’ve discussed here, like reading not only for the content but also considering the setting and who the main characters are, how they’re described, what, if anything, their stated ethnicity has to do with the story, and what rhetorical technique the woman employs to change Jesus’ mind.

But for our part here, it’s the former chunk of the assigned reading that I want to take on in today’s Sunday Post. My focus here is to interpret the assigned text against what has become the conventional reading to submit that Jesus kept kosher, pace a misinformed interpretation that imagines “all foods are clean” speaks against the Torah commandments.

But first, back to the conversation with my friends, Ryan and Gabe.

Why Pursue Scholarship in Confessional Settings?

Ryan is a member of the Christian clergy, and the broader topic of the conversation we were having was about the challenges that he faces when seeking to teach more demanding and difficult notions of historical context and interpretation to his congregation. I’m not meaning to single out Ryan here, this is a challenge that clergy of all faith traditions face. For example, how does a rabbi teach the Exodus? The Exodus has scant historical and archeological evidence in its favor, and yet, the Exodus is on the short list of founding etiologies for the historical people of Israel, marked by one of its major festival seasons, Passover, or Pesach.

There is a normative question hiding in plain sight: Should a faith leader present a breadth of interpretive viewpoints about a sacred text, even if those viewpoints threaten to undermine the veracity of the text? I’ve appealed to competing notions of “truth” to discuss this: Why should truth be defined only as empirical truth? That is, for something to be true, must it cohere with the facts of the matter? I think plenty of “true” things can be “non-factive”; in fact, some researchers have classified an entire class of “non-factive” “mental verbs”:

Hence mental verbs that do not follow this presupposition, such as the verbs “think”, “hope”, “imagine”, “assume”, “believe”, are considered non-factive.

The narrative of the Exodus tradition that God desires liberation for God’s people and all (Jews, at least) are obligated to work toward the liberation from enslavement for all people is a praiseworthy call that, in my assessment, doesn’t require an actual march out of Egypt to be “true.” And yet, while this may suggest a way into the sharing of these historical viewpoints, it doesn’t exactly respond to the normative question: Should we share these views in confessional settings?

The first question to answer when wondering how best to present the scholarly consensus in a confessional setting is to ask Why? Why is it important that parishioners seek better understanding of the biblical literature in its cultural, cultic, and historical setting? For the leaders of these discussions, clergy in the pulpit or me at my keyboard writing these Sunday Posts, we need to settle the ‘why question’ to shape, motivate, and encourage our hard work. It would be easy enough to not raise these challenging historical facts about the Bible.

Save the academic stuff for the classroom, let the Bible speak in whatever form makes sense in confessional settings. That people, for example, locate their hope for eternal life and commitment for following Jesus in his death and resurrection, I imagine some saying, evoking all this literature from Daniel, 2 Esdras, 2 Baruch, the Damascus Document, Revelation, etc. to show the popularity of similar themes and images in apocalyptic literature is actually undermining the message of the gospels. Maybe it’s harmful to the goals of the gospels to chip away at their mystery and assumed witness and testimony to reveal their composition and rhetorical aims?

Each person must answer this question for themselves, and for many, the answer may be that we shouldn’t be doing this work at all. The articulation of this position in its most committed will label people like me heretical, false teachers, leading others away from God. I know this is the case because I have been called these things online, and I see several peers in the religious studies online content creation space also called these things.

I think that is an impoverished and dogmatic view of the text, but I also understand the motivation. Cynically, I think consolidating power to the pulpit, pedaling doctrine, and defining religious communities in such a way to mark clear boundaries is little more than a way to structure power in favor of certain identity politics. And for parishioners, it’s easier to have clear cut answers, and not the rhetoric of soft verbs and fallible conclusions that defines the academic project. For example, consider constructions like the following, “this evidence suggests that…” or “we may infer that…” or “it could be the case that…” or “we cannot conclude that…” or “ we don’t have adequate evidence to support that…”

How much easier is an authoritative voice stating simply, “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’”

In response to a measured claim from someone like me, e.g., “Our scholarly consensus suggests that the gospel writers were not recalling history so much as they were making certain proclamations about Jesus based on their repurposing of their sacred scriptures, separated by decades from the life of Jesus…” An interlocutor may simply say, “Read John 4.16” (quoted above).

We can easily identify the rhetorical simplicity and force of such an interaction. These prooftexts (or the label I prefer, “clobber texts,” given their utility as rhetorical cudgels with which to clobber people”) are effective because they turn on the authority of the Bible while giving the impression of the speaker’s seeming command of the material. Simplicity relays authority in a way that nuance does not.

Historical criticism takes hard work, years of study, the communication skills to make that information digestible, and the wisdom to share this information that affirms faith communities while also dismantling rigid belief statements. The way into that work begins with answering, “Why is it important that parishioners seek better understanding of the biblical literature in its cultural, cultic, and historical setting?”

Back to me, Ryan, and Gabe.

“People are always quoting things like, ‘Jesus declared all foods clean,’” Ryan said. Our conversation had made its way to kosher dietary laws. “Christianity would look way differently today if some of those conversations in the early Jesus movement had gone a different way,” I remarked, continuing, “Circumcision, Kosher eating, regular ritual immersion… demanding that gentiles who wished to follow Jesus would follow these commandments was an open question in early Christianity.”

And that’s irrefutably true. In fact, Paul, the Pharisee-turned-Christ follower, reserves some of his most harsh rhetoric for other “Christian” missionaries who demanded Torah observance for their gentile converts.1

To be a little tongue-in-cheek, without Paul’s influence, the contemporary Christian altar call may include the rite of circumcision and a commitment to Torah observance. “Those were probably some pretty heated conversations,” indeed, to call back to last night’s conversation.

My response to the ‘why question’ that has been a theme here, is to openly wonder how doctrine may change if Christians better understood that they were only an epistle away from circumcision and no bacon cheeseburgers? What might Christianity look like today if more closely aligned with a law to follow and not statements to believe?

Of course, we cannot know, and it would be foolish of me to suggest otherwise, but I hope my rhetorical point holds. I think we make our best decisions when equipped with the best evidence available at the time, and the best evidence available to us today is to acknowledge that our ideas about Jesus are mediated through rhetorical proclamations informed by Jewish traditions, with influences from Hellenized Greek culture. A faith tradition ought to be downstream from the historical facts. That doesn’t need to undermine our faith, recall the soft verbs of the academic projet, we cannot claim certainty, but I certainly think these inferred conclusions should inform one’s faith, for those who claim it, and at the end of this essay, we’ll see at least one suggestion for how this could be done.

Matthew 15:10-20

New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

¹⁰ Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: ¹¹ it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” ¹² Then the disciples approached and said to him, “Do you know that the Pharisees took offense when they heard what you said?” ¹³ He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. ¹⁴ Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.” ¹⁵ But Peter said to him, “Explain this parable to us.” ¹⁶ Then he said, “Are you also still without understanding? ¹⁷ Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach and goes out into the sewer? ¹⁸ But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. ¹⁹ For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. ²⁰ These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.”

The Kosher Jesus

Does this claim from Jesus in today’s assigned reading mean that the kosher dietary laws are no longer binding: “[I]t is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles“?

Before discussing that in particular, let’s first remark on things we claim to know about Jesus, and for that, we have no choice but to appeal to the gospels, especially in Luke, but many of these scenes have gospel parallels. Following is a selection of evidence I want to bring to bear on today’s post. Jesus’ parents presented Jesus at the Temple for the sacrifice of the first born, a Jewish commandment (Luke 2.22), Jesus was baptized by ritual immersion, a Jewish practice (Mark 1.9), Jesus taught in the synagogues (Luke 4.16), endorsed the sacrificial system (Luke 5.14), attended the Temple for festivals (e.g., John 2.13), and he directed his disciples to prepare a Passover meal (Matthew 26.17-19).

Let’s set our presuppositions aside and ask, for a Jewish man in the first century who was presented by his parents at the Temple, who immersed in a ritual cleansing, who endorsed the Law of Moses, who taught in synagogues, who attended the festivals at the Temple, and who arranged a Passover meal, and so forth. Would it be consistent with the character and practice of such a person to call for the eradication of all Kosher dietary laws? It seems plainly the answer is no.

So how might we interpret such a statement, “[I]t is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person”? Or even the stronger articulation in Mark 7.18-19:

He said to them, “So, are you also without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters not the heart but the stomach and goes out into the sewer?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.)

The response lay in understanding the cultic background for Second Temple Period Judaism. There are two distinctions that modern readers often conflate as “clean/unclean.” These are the first distinction: holy/profane and the second: pure/impure. All things are either holy (fit for special use in cultic practice) or profane (common; not fit for cultic practice), and this distinction may include sinful behavior, but the second distinction, pure or impure, has nothing at all to do with sin. It is recognizing this second distinction that will help us here with respect to kashrut, or kosher dietary laws.

See, ritual purity (and impurity) has nothing to do with sinful behavior. Ritual impurity is caused by bleeding, menstruation, childbirth, ejaculation, and other bodily discharges. These are natural states! There is a concern that these forces of impurity could contaminate the Temple, but not because of sin and the need for requisite forgiveness. There is a protocol for ritual purity: immersion in the ritual bath. It was accepted that certain natural states are ritually impure, so all one needs to do is follow the practice of ritual cleansing. The perimeter of the Temple was dotted with ritual baths for just this purpose. This is helpful to keep in mind, as we’ll see.

What we need to understand first in this story is not what Jesus says, but what the Pharisees are doing. Back up a little and read Matthew 15.1-3:

Then Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and said, “Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? For they do not wash their hands before they eat.” He answered them, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?”

The set up here is not a general discussion of what foods are acceptable to be eaten. Instead, pay attention to what the Pharisees ask, Why don’t your disciples wash their hands before eating? The Hebrew blessing, netilat yadayim, spoken for the washing of hands, is the relevant topic for debate. This blessing has its origin in a Torah commandment derived from Leviticus 15.11:

All those whom the one with the discharge touches without his having rinsed his hands in water shall wash their clothes and bathe in water and be unclean until the evening.

A discharge, OK, so it’s ritual impurity under discussion, there’s the rinsing hands in water, washing clothes in water, and bathing in water, the protocol for ritual cleanliness after impurity. This all checks out. What comes next? Jesus pushes back, “And why do you break the commandment of God for the sake of your tradition?”

Breaking a commandment of God (Torah) for the sake of your tradition. What is their tradition? Washing hands before a meal. This is what the Pharisees complain about Jesus not doing. And what commandment have the Pharisees broken, according to Jesus? Let’s look, the Levitical code for rinsing hands, as we’ve just seen, is after contact with a discharge, and yet, the text says nothing about eating a meal. Jesus is complaining that the Pharisees have altered Torah (“broken a commandment”) for the sake of their tradition (washing before a meal).2

Ritual washing is the antidote for ritual impurity, as described by Leviticus, as Jesus ostensibly, by the gospel reports, is engaged in as part of his cultic practice. But the Torah says nothing of washing before a meal, so Jesus concludes, there is no need for the ritual purity practice before eating. Why? Because the Torah says nothing about washing before eating. Thus, Jesus declares all food clean! I.e., not ritually impure. Ah-Ha!

Jesus is not saying the kosher rules generally are off the table (see what I did there?); rather, Jesus is accusing the Pharisees of changing the Torah to suit their own traditions, and he’s not happy about it. Jesus instead says, it’s not what enters the body that is unclean, but the things that exit the body, the discharges that are ritually impure, but also the poor moral conduct that defiles. Jesus is telling the Pharisees, stop altering Torah and focus instead on your moral conduct. Jesus interprets Torah strictly in this encounter with the Pharisees, and he upholds a Levitical commandment. Should Jesus mean to be eliminating the kosher rules, that would be inconsistent with the entire premise. Why would Jesus argue on the side of Toah, only to then abandon kashrut, going directly against Torah? That reading is implausible.

Consistent with the reports about Jewish observance enumerated above, we can confidently infer that Jesus likely kept kosher, too.

Conclusion: Why Does it Matter for Contemporary Readers

We return to the question of why this matters for a contemporary reader. Simply, should one consider themselves a follower of Jesus, it may be useful to note that along with endorsing the sacrificial system, teaching at synagogue, and attending the Temple, Jesus most likely kept kosher, too. Should Christian practice be aware of this? It seems plainly yes. Should Christians keep kosher. There, the answer is more complicated.

Torah is binding on Jews and only Jews. This was as relevant to the first century as it is to the 21st. Christians are not Jews. This reminds us of the opening discussion in today’s post. Should the conversations have gone differently in the early movement, Jewish conversion may have become a requirement for Christ followers. But those conversations did not go in that direction, and so, Christians do not convert to Judaism; hence, Torah law is not binding on Christians. There is no need for Christians to eat kosher.

Yet, I’m not sure total disregard of kashrut makes sense either. The overwhelming conclusion is that Jesus is a Torah observant Jew, and while I’m certainly not a Christian theologian, I don’t see how it would make sense for a Christian to ignore this fact. If not kosher, maybe modern Christians move toward a plant-based lifestyle, or they source their food mainly from local farms, or they take special care to prepare and enjoy meals, at least for sabbath or other occasions. At minimum, for Christian readers, I hope you think of the kosher Jesus next time you take communion.