Who’s Bible? What Authority?

This is a long essay. Like over 3,500 words. Reading this will cost you about 20 minutes. I don’t know if you’re into this stuff like I am. You signed up here, so I imagine that you have at least some interest. As an editorial note, you’re reading me working out both big ideas and my own personal identity through many of these longform essays. I write because I love working out a point of view. I’m always open to hearing what works and what doesn’t.

Anytime we say, “Here is what this text means,” we deny at least some agency to the original author and impose a belief onto the text that it says, or means, what we think it says.

Hitzonim

Most readers know me to argue that the Bible has no inherent authority; the authority of the Bible is conferred by the interpretive community deploying the literature in ways that best serve their interests. The fourth gospel, or the Gospel According to John, is a paradigmatic example of just such a deployment of texts. In today’s post, I continue to treat the so-called Bread of Life Disourse in John chapter 6, from a Jewish perspective, of course.

The rhetoric against “The Jews” must be understood within its first century context. Rather than appropriate this material as antisemitic screed, as has been a harmful tradition in some Christian movements, we can challenge these assumptions and place the Johannine gospel within a tradition of Jewish Wisdom litearature, consistent with the opening prologue to John, a midrash on Genesis 1.

While we can say very little about the nature of the Johannine authorship and its reception history, we can appeal to Jewish writings to argue that whoever is resopnsible for the fourth gospel, they are steeped in Jewish literature. An odd thing it would be, then, to conclude from rich interpretive use of Jewish texts that the author themselves is anti-Israelite.

I don’t want to claim too much, it is clear that this author favored a high Christology for Jesus as the christos, sharing an intimate relationship with God the father, an idea that the Jewish world ultimatley rejected, but my aim here is not to uplift the Jewishness of John. Rather, I seek to refute the antisemitism that arises from passages like the one we have today. Whatever we claim, or don’t, about the anonymous author of the fourth gospel, evidence suggests that they are operating within a largely Jewish literary framework.

I’ll invite the Jewish Annotated New Testament to help me make the point:

The paradox that this Gospel presents extends to its relationship to Judaism. It makes abundant use of the Hebrew Bible, through direct quotations and allusions, as well as, more subtly, through its appropriation of some of its characters, motifs and stories that are then interpreted through the lens of faith in Jesus as Christ and Son of God. This Gospel also has numerous parallels to other Jewish sources, from the second temple and rabbinic periods, as well as references to Jewish practices. At the same time, the Gospel is highly disturbing in its representation of “the Jews” (p 152).

The Limits of Interpretation

Now with this introduction, we can already say a few helpful things to approach today’s discussion. The first is to acknowledge the layers of interpretive complexity that we must hold in mind when reading today’s text. Not only are contemporary readers, “interpretive communities,” I’ve called them, interpreting the text guided by a particular tradition and point of view, but so was the author of the fourth gospel interpreting their authoritative texts.

At each stage, the reader must ask, “What did this author mean in their setting, and what was their objective?” At each stage of interpretation and deployment, an author is reasonable to wonder, “Does my interpretation cohere with the original authorial aim, and to what extent am I lifting a text from its intended meaning to reinforce the point that I’m making in the present?” The outcome of this wondering is to realize that later readers are constantly attributing, revising, or ignoring what an earlier author had in mind. And so, any use of the text is an application it was not intended for.

Anytime we say, “Here is what this text means,” we deny at least some agency to the original author and impose a belief onto the text that it says, or means, what we think it says. This sort of robbing of agency and imposition of our belief is inevitable. It happens anytime we read ancient texts. We simply cannot recover the original meaning and authorial or editorial objective with any determination reaching certainty. Our best efforts lead us to assert some claims with a higher degree of confidence than others, but to claim belief or knowledge beyond notions of likelihood is to presuppose something about the text from the start, or it is to read a conclusion back into the text from later conceptual or theological development. The very best interpretation that we could hope to achieve is that it approximates its original intent but it is unlikely that we will we gain anything more than that.

All of this is critical to keep in mind from several perspectives. To those who choose to speak authoritatively about the text, which to a measured extent, I am doing here, we cannot allow our confidence to exceed the matters of fact that all interpretation is theory-laden and fallible. In other words, our interpretations are motivated by our presuppositions and are likely wrong to some degree. We should always remind ourselves and our audiences of this.

Next, to readers and listeners, know that those you read and hear speak are restricted by the limits of our data and influenced by their interpretive schemas. No one has the capital T Truth. It’s interpretation all the way down.

Don’t hear me saying that anything goes regarding analysis and interpretation and neither that our uncertainty and fallibility are so impossible to overcome that any interpretive practice is a fool’s errand.

Exposure to a broad body of literature on the topic, principled and methodological research, sound and logical argumentation, examining our assumptions, exposing our work to peer review, public debate and discourse, and disseminating findings are some tools that introduce checks and balances on the conclusions we draw.

All this is simply to return us to the point where we started: The Bible has no inherent authority; its authority is conferred by the interpretive community deploying the literature in ways that best serve their interests.

Soon we’ll encounter the text from the fourth gospel that we’re studying today, and before we get started, let me just say to read that Jesus is speaking against “the Jews” and to infer from that, that Jesus, hence Christianity, somehow replaces, supersedes, or does away with Judaism is to rob the author of their agency and impose your belief onto the text.

Suppose an interpretive community infers Jesus’s superiority over Judaism through this text. In that case, the community is doing so because it best serves its interest, which raises the question, why is replacement theology in the best interest of that community? I would suggest that it is not because they seek to understand the text in its historical setting and more likely reflects a later interpretive tradition read back into the gospel text.

But neither do I mean to argue that the author of John’s gospel reflects simply another mainstream Jewish view in the first century. The reality is that of the “philosophies” described by Josephus, the early Jewish-Roman historian, Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes and Zealots, we know surprisingly little about these groups, and we’d be much more comfortable calling them “Jewish” than we would early Jesus Movements, about which we know even less, so I shouldn’t claim too much about this Johannine group.

All I mean to conclude in today’s post is that the author is participating in a tradition of Jewish commentary and interpretation; hence, it doesn’t make sense to me to conclude that this community is anti-Jewish.

If I told you that I learned spanish, spent time in Mexico City, immersed myself in Mexican culture, then criticized aspects of that same culture, would you conclude, “Boy that guy hates Mexicans”? It may be curious that my ideas disagree with the consensus, but that I am anti-Mexican seems to be the wrong result.

The Text

We’ve been reading John for a few weeks now. Today, we continue advancing through John chapter six, with the lectionary assigning John 6:51-58:

I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day, for my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which the ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.”

In the remainder of this post, I’d like to briefly address the term “The Jews” and think critically about who is being referenced and why. Then I’d like to draw from a few sources to argue that flesh and blood, at least in the Johannine tradition, is not a reference to the meal ritual, or Eucharist, which is more of a Synoptic tradition than one in the fourth gospel, but instead refers to teaching. A claim that, in fact, locates John more deeply within Jewish literature than against it.

I’ve done a lot of theoretical work in this post, but at the risk of overstating assumptions, allow me to say one more thing: We don’t know if the Johannine Community was a community or a single pseudepigraphic writer. This is what we discussed last week.

On the nature of those who received this gospel, scholars suggest it was a mixed audience of Jews and non-Jews. The familiarity with Jewish practice and knowledge of the topography of Jerusalem suggest an author with close Israelite ties. The explication of some Jewish laws and rituals suggests a non-Jewish audience that needed the education. The opening prologue serves both as a midrash on Genesis 1 and identifies Jesus with a pre-existing logos, features that situate the text in Jewish Wisdom tradition. At the same time, the eating of flesh and blood, prima facie, is repulsive to Jews, who are explicitly forbidden from eating living flesh and drinking blood.

If the top scholars in the field are undecided on the nature of this community, we surely can’t sort that out in our little blog project. I only want to caution us once more against being too confident in any conclusion we draw. It’s been my sense ever since the inception of this blog that the gospels are Jewish literature and should be read that way. I understand also that Christians have used rhetorical attacks on “The Jews” and Pharisees as ammunition in millennia of antisemitic crusades. To reference another early and enduring commitment of this blog, we combat bad ideas with education. Ultimately, my orientation is toward teaching, and I try hard to do that well.

On “The Jews”

Behind the English translation, “The Jews,” is the Greek term “Ioudaios.” Translating simply as “The Jews” can be problematic because of its historical and contextual nuances. In classical and biblical literature, “Ioudaios” often referred to people from the region of Judea, encompassing a broader cultural and geographical identity than the modern term “Jew” might suggest. Translating “Ioudaios” as “Judean” can more accurately reflect the term’s original context, emphasizing the regional and political aspects of the identity rather than solely religious or ethnic connotations. This distinction is crucial for understanding historical texts accurately, as it helps avoid anachronistic interpretations and acknowledges the complex identities of ancient populations.

Back in my undergrad New Testament class, the professor suggested that anytime we encounter “The Jews” in the NT, we should make a mental note to read “Judeans.” This isn’t a clear-cut rule to be applied generally, without question. For example, many Judeans, of course, were Jewish in the relevant sense, even though “Jewish” itself is an anachronistic term, referring to a religious designation from Enlightenment Europe and not a description of the ethnic and cultic practices of the Second Temple. Still, when you encounter “The Jews” and remind yourself to say Judeans, the benefit is creating a break in your internal feedback loop that forces you to read the term with at least a little more historical sensitivity. There is no doubt that those associated with the Johannine literature feel some contempt for certain Judeans. We can’t simply refuse to deal with this, but the way that modern antisemitism draws from texts like these, even a simple switch of terms like “Judeans” for “The Jews” is a first step toward dismantling toxic theology and prejudice.

Is it a perfect fix? No. Does it help some? I’d wager to say yes.

Flesh and Blood, Meal or Instruction

John Heilmann challenges the traditional view that this passage contains eucharistic allusions. Instead, he argues that the metaphorical language in the Bread of Life discourse is centered on the idea that eating and drinking symbolize adopting teachings. This perspective suggests that the passage is not about a Christian ritual but the universal human experience of eating and drinking. The metaphors in John 6 serve to distinguish between believing and unbelieving disciples.

To make his claim, Heilmann argues that the imagery in John 6 parallels that found in the Prophets and Jewish wisdom traditions. For example, Jeremiah speaks of consuming God’s words as a source of joy (Jeremiah 15.16). Isaiah invites those who thirst to come and eat freely, emphasizing the nourishing power of God’s word (Isaiah 55.1–3, 10–11). More on the prophetic similarities, I invite you to read a longer passage from Ezekial, side by side with the other texts. Similarly, the book of Sirach associates eating and drinking with receiving instruction, portraying wisdom. Finally, I’ll close this section with a passage from a book that keeps popping up in our discussions, Revelation.

Jeremiah 15:16

Your words were found, and I ate them,

    and your words became to me a joy

    and the delight of my heart,

for I am called by your name,

    O Lord, God of hosts.

Isaiah 55:1-3

Hear, everyone who thirsts;

    come to the waters;

and you who have no money,

    come, buy and eat!

Come, buy wine and milk

    without money and without price.

Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread

    and your earnings for that which does not satisfy?

Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good,

    and delight yourselves in rich food.

Incline your ear, and come to me;

    listen, so that you may live.

I will make with you an everlasting covenant,

    my steadfast, sure love for David.

Sirach 15:3

She will feed him with the bread of understanding

    and give him the water of wisdom to drink.

Sirach 24:21

Those who eat of me will hunger for more,

    and those who drink of me will thirst for more.

Ezekiel 2:8-3:11

“But you, mortal, hear what I say to you; do not be rebellious like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I give you.” I looked, and a hand was stretched out to me, and a written scroll was in it. He spread it before me; it had writing on the front and on the back, and written on it were words of lamentation and mourning and woe.

He said to me, “O mortal, eat what is offered to you; eat this scroll, and go, speak to the house of Israel.” So I opened my mouth, and he gave me the scroll to eat. He said to me, “Mortal, eat this scroll that I give you and fill your stomach with it.” Then I ate it, and in my mouth it was as sweet as honey.

He said to me, “Mortal, go to the house of Israel and speak my very words to them. For you are not sent to a people of obscure speech and difficult language but to the house of Israel, not to many peoples of obscure speech and difficult language whose words you cannot understand. Surely, if I sent you to them, they would listen to you. But the house of Israel will not be willing to listen to you, for they are not willing to listen to me, because all the house of Israel have a hard forehead and a stubborn heart. See, I have made your face hard against their faces and your forehead hard against their foreheads. Like the hardest stone, harder than flint, I have made your forehead; do not fear them or be dismayed at their looks, for they are a rebellious house.” He said to me, “Mortal, all my words that I shall speak to you receive in your heart and hear with your ears; then go to the exiles, to your people, and speak to them. Say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God,’ whether they hear or refuse to hear.”

When seeking to dismantle the perceived anti-Judaic rhetoric of the NT, we often forget that the Prophetic tradition spoke also against the House of Israel and threatened things like God turning away from the people, exile from the land, and destruction of the Temple.

And here we are again, with Revelation featuring in our analysis. Take Revelation 10:9-10:

So I went to the angel and told him to give me the little scroll, and he said to me, “Take it and eat; it will be bitter to your stomach but sweet as honey in your mouth.” So I took the little scroll from the hand of the angel and ate it; it was sweet as honey in my mouth, but when I had eaten it my stomach was made bitter.

When John’s author is writing, there is alreaady an established Jewish tradition to analogize eating and drinking with study and learning. Two other papers I reviewed this week emphasized similar points. B.E. Reyolds (2014) highlights the importance of starting with Scripture, guided by gospel-driven presuppositions and doctrinal understandings. Jesus’s shocking words, especially to a Jewish audience, are seen as metaphors for belief and the acceptance of his sacrifice, aligning with other metaphors in John.

M.J. Warren (2015) urges readers not to adopt a synoptic perspective when interpreting the Gospel of John. While the use of bread, flesh, and blood in John might initially appear similar to their use in Mark, Matthew, and Luke, where they reference the Eucharist or Last Supper, John’s Gospel assigns them a different meaning. Given John’s primary focus on Jesus’ divine identity and the use of his physical body as a sign, along with the consistent grammar, vocabulary, and style throughout the text, a Christological interpretation of the Bread of LIfe discourse clarifies its meaning in John’s Gospel. Warren incorporates Hellenistic literature, particularly novels, that share John’s concern with identity. These works, according to Warren, preserve concepts of divinity, sacrifice, and consumption within the Greco-Roman cultural context, providing a framework to understand John 6.51-58 as having Christological significance, but not as a literal meal of flesh and blood.

Conclusion: Where Do We End Up?

I set out to argue that the rhetoric against “The Jews” must be understood within its first century context, and, to this end, I wanted to contextualize both the term, Iuoudiaos, and situate the Bread of Life Discourse in an existing Jewish literary tradition.

Stopping short of claiming anything about the nature of the Johannine author or reception history, my claim is more incremental: It’s anachronistic to take from this passage antyhing against the Jewish people tout court. Instead, a mixed group of Jews and non-Jews in the late first century held a deep commiment to the special status of Jesus who they called the Christ, operated within a Jewish literary tradition to make their case, and overtly, and with a heavy hand, disagreed with some unspecified group of Iuoudiaos and the Pharisees by name.

If you read this in the 21st century as a statement agaist Jewish people or the Religion of Israel, you’re reading a later interpretation back into the text and robbing the orginal author of their agency in the process.