The secret messiah and evolving theological language for proto-Christianity

Introduction: Secret Savior and Divine Revelation

Did you read yesterday’s bonus post? If you did, you’ll be in good shape for today’s discussion of the assigned gospel reading, Matthew 16.13-20. Feel free to follow the link out to that text, I’m not going to drop it in here, in favor of summarizing the key discussion points that I’d like to draw out.

We are witnessing, in today’s assigned gospel reading, two strands unfolding before us: First, the increasing significance of the title, Son of Man, for the early proto-Christian community and its evolution from Daniellic vessel for the figure imbued with the authority of the Ancient of Days, toward a divinized status and the figure that is no longer merely a title but the fulfilment of that title in Jesus—the Son of God, according to gospel proclamation.

Second, we see the Matthean author continuing the tradition of Mark’s “messianic secret”; in fact, this way of speaking (rather, not speaking) of the anointed one shares broader Jewish instruction, from an oral tradition, called baraita, compiled outside of the formal rabbinic writings, less so, yet still very influential in the tradition of Judaism.

Though you’re familiar with me saying it, these narratives are proclamations about Jesus who they called the Christos, the anointed one, drawn from earlier sources that may preserve elements of Jesus’ activities. But we must understand the gospels as constructions that seek to proclaim Jesus as the anointed one, more than they seek to preserve testimony or document events. The gospels bring the Scriptures of Israel to bear on the events they describe, and so, our understanding of these stories inform readers about the rhetorical aims of the Jesus movement and their commitments; these are not to be understood as first-hand accounts. Apologetics, should you identify within the Christian tradition, are best understood downstream from critical understanding of the text.

Jewish readers, for our part, should recognize the Jesus of the gospels as a Torah observant Jew who’s written in similar tone, theme, and imagery as the literature of Daniel, Enoch, Baruch, Esdras, Tobit, and the New Testament Revelation.

We can assert with a high degree of confidence that the gospels are resistance literature in the Jewish apocalyptic tradition that seek divine justice and call for moral conduct. We similarly assert with confidence that Jesus was an historical figure who amassed followers, taught the Law and Prophets, and was believed to be the messiah. Any further assertions about the nature—human or divine—of Jesus and attributions to Jesus of his actual words or actions are more matters of confession than scholarship. For some of us, the historical, insurrectionist Jesus is plenty worthy of following, even if not attributing divinity. That Jesus must be consubstantial with God to be deemed worthy of following is, in my view, a mistake and a small-minded view. The difficulty of the gospels are in following the instruction, not dogmatically believing the doctrine.

To be fair, to lift up another instance where the difficulty is in the practice, not the belief, archeological evidence speaks against an historical Exodus, but following a call to work always toward liberation from enslavement for all people is much more challenging than dogmatically accepting a mass migration from Egypt.

Who Do You Say that I Am? Summary of the Text

Regular readers, we continue to spend time in Matthew. Recently, we’ve discussed Jesus feeding multitudes, walking on water, and debating the kosher laws with the Pharisees. Now Jesus and the disciples enter a gentile area, and Jesus wonders what people are saying about the Son of Man.

Some say, reports the disciples, that Jesus is John the Baptist; does this suggest Jesus’ end-times message reminds others of John’s itinerant eschatological instruction and ritual immersion? Others say a prophet, and that character matches Jesus’ rhetoric against empire and other religious sects. Finally, Peter reveals that he thinks Jesus is messiah, the anointed one, and Jesus affirms Peter’s assertion, rewards his revelation as something Holy, not by argument alone (“flesh and blood”)—something I should probably pay attention to! And finally, Jesus warns the disciples not to speak of his messianic status with others. This is the “messianic secret.”

Who is the Son of Man?

We’ve discussed the label, Son of Man, frequently in this newsletter. It is used more than 80 times in the gospel accounts and seems to be the preferred label for Jesus—whether by his own use or by the gospel writers placing it on Jesus’ lips, we cannot be sure. To say more about the Son of Man concept, I summarize two chapters from the terrific resource, The Bible with and without Jesus (AJ Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler, 2020).

Levine and Brettler note that this somewhat opaque title and concept is a perfect label for the Jesus of the gospels who teaches in parables that are often only understood by those with intimate knowledge of his references (386).

While the title is very popular in the gospels, Levine and Brettler observe that its use drops out of favor very quickly in the writings following the composition of the gospels. They suggest that this decreasing use is because the idiom makes sense in original context, especially noting similar idiomatic use in aramaic phrases, but the more dramatic Son of God title would be more compelling to non-Jewish audiences (386). We know from Roman sources that the Caesars were divinized “Sons of God,” and the gospel use of some phrases, especially proclamations about Jesus in the Lukan birth narrative, including Son of God and Prince of Peace, co-opt the honorifics of the Caesars as a subversive political message against empire.

On those insider-hebrew and aramaic idiomatic uses, Levine and Brettler point to the hebrew use of Son of Man, ben (singular) and b’nei (plural) Adam, as the phrase for a human being and humanity, respectively. This phrasing connects to frequent use of b’nei Yisrael, Israelites, literally sons of Israel, that suggests both ethnicity and genealogy (388). B’nei Adam is often used to identify humans, especially contrasted with the power and perfection of the Divine (389). Indeed, a Qumran prayer uses ben Adam, Son of Man, to identify humans “like worms” in contrast to God. To summarize here, ben Adam was a familiar expression used commonly in the Hebrew Bible to contrast humans and humanity from God and to describe the ethnic connections of the Jewish people. This ancient expression is assigned new meaning in the apocalyptic period.

In the book of Daniel, a first century “best seller,” given its prevalence in the Dead Sea literature (400), the phrase, “One like a Son of Man,” intends to communicate the idea of a supernatural figure imbued with the authority of the Ancient of Days; human in appearance (“like a Son of Man” i.e., like a human being) but having a nature more like an angel (“coming on the clouds). We see that this title and imagery for Daniel is personified in the gospels: Jesus is the son of man (399).

To wrap a bow around this, Levine and Brettler quote the scholar and professor of Jewish History, Daniel Schwartz, who notes that the major Christian innovation was to take the idea of a Davidic messiah that would restore Israel toward a new belief that the Son of Man, with the authority of God, with new religious status as God’s son, had inaugurated the kingdom (399)—a realized eschatology like we’ve addressed in this newsletter. Levine and Brettler conclude:

This increasingly divine Son of Man, who becomes the focal point for divine justice, speaks to both the human yearning for a savior and the despair that no one on earth has the power or authority to change the present state of the world. At the same time, it opens the door for anyone who has the charisma, the force, and talent to take on this role (403).

I want to connect this note about the “increasingly divine” Son of Man to yesterday’s post, considering the theological evolution reported in 2 Esdras, like 7.28-30:

²⁸ For my son the Messiah shall be revealed with those who are with him, and those who remain shall rejoice four hundred years. ²⁹ After those years my son the Messiah shall die, and all who draw human breath. ³⁰ Then the world shall be turned back to primeval silence for seven days, as it was at the first beginnings, so that no one shall be left.

The utility of yesterday’s post was to get us all onto the idea that the messiah was not always conceived to be divine, and we can actually trace the evolution of the anointed one from human, ben Adam, Son of Man, toward something more divinized, God’s son, and then we see how the gospels leveraged this new meaning attached to an older phrase to adapt the message for gentile communities.

While speculating, perhaps it is this theological and ethnographic adaptation that brings the Son of Man title under criticism in the Talmudic writings, from the rabbis. Levine and Brettler note the criticism (408), but not the cause. However, we can see shared theological notions between the rabbinic writings and the gospels, especially with respect to the messianic secret of the gospels, when Jesus tells the disciples not to talk about his messianic status.

The Messianic Secret in Jewish Writings

The messianic secret is usually reserved to name what is happening in the Markan account, borrowed also by Matthew and Luke, whereas Jesus cautions his disciples about discussing his messianic status with outsiders. Look here to the Jewish apocalyptic text 1 Enoch 62.7:

For from the beginning that Son of Man was hidden, and the Most High kept him in the presence of His power, and revealed him only to the chosen (my emphasis)

This verse from Enoch is similar in tone to what we discussed from 2 Esdras, like 7.28, “For my son the Messiah shall be revealed with those who are with him” (my emphasis), or this, also from 2 Esdras, 13.32, “When these things take place and the signs occur that I showed you before, then my Son will be revealed” (my emphasis). So it seems as though something from the apocalyptic literature emphasizes the hiddenness of the messiah and the proper time, place, shrouding from people the time of the messiah’s revelation.

The mishnah is the Oral Torah, the collection of rabbinic writings that discussed how best to interpret and apply the Written Torah to everyday life. The rabbis who contributed to the Mishnah are known as the Tannaim, and these writers assembled the Mishnah over a period of 130 years, in the first and second centuries CE—note the dates!

Here from a tractate in the Mishnah, Sanhedrin 97a:

This is as in that practice of Rabbi Zeira, who, when he would find Sages who were engaging in discussions about the coming of the Messiah, said to them: Please, I ask of you, do not delay his coming by calculating the end of days. As we learn in a baraita: There are three matters that come only by means of diversion of attention from those matters, and these are they: The Messiah, a lost item, and a scorpion.

Three things come by not thinking of them: the messiah, something you’ve lost, and a scorpion! Think about the advice people give each other when they’re struggling with their love life: You’ll find the right partner when you’re not even looking for them.

I don’t think we can say that the Markan messianic secret is given for the same reason the Mishnaic rabbis have for not speaking of the messiah. For example, the Markan mystery may be a rhetorical, dramatic effect to reward audiences who hear the gospel more than once, knowing already about the proclamation that Jesus would die and rise again, so the messianic secret serves dramatic effect to engage an audience and help them feel like they have special insider knowledge. The rabbinic prescription feels more like a superstition than rhetoric, but I’m not sure I can adjudicate one way or another.

Conclusion

Who do people say that I am?

I have no better words than to say that I love the gospels, and I love them for many reasons, but these sorts of discussions are at the center of whatever explanation for my love that I would reveal. The gospels are theologically late-breaking proclamations that are right at home in the Judaism of the first two centuries; though, moving away from the rabbinic Judaism that would define the tradition still in use today.

Reflecting the writings of the Essenes in the Dead Sea community and the rabbinic writings of post-Temple Jerusalem and Babylonia, there is so much rich soil to till from Jewish and gentile sources to bear sweet fruit of deepened understanding and bridges of shared meaning. That Christianity did diverge from Judaism is reason for Jews to take pride in their traditions that are not merely authoritative for Jews, but they transmitted some of that authority to hatch a new religious tradition. That Judaism gave their messianic and apocalyptic notions for Christians to adopt, adapt, and make their own is reason for Christians to marry their future messianic hope with present humility.

Who do you say that I am? The Son of Man, proving once again that with the sacred scriptures, we must turn them and turn them again, for all is within. My love of the gospels are for their fecundity to build these bridges with you.