Jesus was put by this question in a difficult position. The Baptist in asking him, Art thou the Forerunner? or art thou not? had proposed a false alternative to which Jesus could answer neither yes nor no. He was not willing to entrust the secret of his messiahship to the messengers. He therefore replied with a hint of the nearness of [pg 153] the Kingdom which was revealed in his deeds. At the same time he thrust his own personality mightily into the foreground. He alone can be blessed who stands by him and who finds no occasion of stumbling in him. With this he would say the same as he said once also to the people: membership in the Kingdom is dependent upon one’s attachment to him (Mk 838).
Jesus’ remarkable evasive answer to the Baptist, in which exegesis has always believed that it must discover a special finesse, is explained therefore simply by the necessity of the situation. Jesus could not answer directly. Hence he gave this obscure response. The Baptist was to gather from it what he would and could. Besides, it was of no importance how he understood it. Events would soon teach him, for the time is already much further advanced than he supposes, and the hammer is already lifted to strike the hour.
It is exceedingly difficult for us to get rid of the notion that the Baptist and Jesus stood to one another in the relation of Forerunner and Messiah. It is only through intense reflection that we can reach the perception that the two characters stand in this relation in our perspective only [pg 154] because we assume the messiahship of Jesus; but that in order to discover the historical relationship we must calculate and apply the right perspective.
So long as one is still prejudiced in any way by the old perspective, one cannot do justice to the foregoing investigation. That is, one will still have the notion that it is a question of “the forerunner of the Forerunner” and the Forerunner—an ingenious multiplication of the Forerunner by himself. That is falsely expressed. A prophet of repentance, John the Baptist, directs men’s attention to the prediction of the mighty figure of Elijah the Forerunner, and as he hears in prison of the signs of Jesus he wonders if this may not be Elijah—and does not dream that this man holds himself to be the Messiah, and that for this reason he himself will henceforth be designated in history as the Forerunner. That is the historical situation.
The moment the conception of history was defined by the conviction that Jesus was the Messiah the historical perspective was necessarily shifted. The Gospels display this shifting in increasing measure. In the introductory verses of Mark the quotation from Malachi about the Forerunner who is to prepare the way (Mal 31) is already applied to [pg 155] John. According to Matthew, the Baptist hears in prison of “the works of the Messiah” (Mt 112). If here it is only a question of the casual and unreflecting introduction of a new mode of conception, the Fourth Gospel, on the other hand, has made a principle of it and consistently represents the history in line with the presumption that because Jesus was the Messiah the Baptist was the Forerunner and must have felt himself to be such. The historical Baptist says: I am not the Forerunner, for he is incomparably greater and mightier than I. According to the Fourth Gospel the people could conjecture that he was the Christ. He was obliged to say, therefore: I am not the Christ (Jn 120)!
Thus has the relation been altered under the influence of the new perspective. The person of the Baptist has become historically unrecognisable. Finally they have made out of him the modern doubter, who half believed in Jesus’ messiahship, and half disbelieved. In this apprehensive indecision, this backing and filling, is supposed to lie, in fact, the tragedy of his existence! Now, however, one may confidently strike him from the list of those characters, so interesting to us moderns, who come to ruin through a tragic [pg 156] half-faith. Jesus spared him that. For so long as he lived he required of no man faith in him as the Messiah—and yet that is what he was!
Was the entrance into Jerusalem a messianic ovation? That depends, in the first place, upon how one interprets the cry of the people; but then also, upon one’s notion of the encounter between Jesus and the blind man. If it was actually a question there of his being greeted as the Son of David,—a greeting which he no longer repudiates, but tacitly admits, so that the people learn to apprehend what he takes himself to be,—the consequence is inevitable that it was a messianic ovation.
For the exact understanding of the description of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem, the differences in detail between Mark and the parallels are of far reaching importance. In Mark we have two clearly distinguishable acclamations. The first is directed to the person of Jesus in their midst: “Hosanna! Blessed be ‘the Coming One’ in the name of the Lord” (Mk 119). The second refers to the expected coming of the Kingdom: [pg 157] “Blessed be the coming Kingdom of our father David. Hosanna in the highest!” The Son of David is thus not mentioned at all!
It is different in Matthew. There the people shout “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed be the Coming One in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” (Mt 219). We have here therefore only the cry which was directed to the person of Jesus; the Kingdom is not mentioned; men acclaim instead the Son of David and, at the same time, the Coming One.
Luke’s version does not come into account, for he deals with reminiscences from the history of the infancy “Blessed be the king that cometh in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest” (Lk 1938).
Thus Matthew in his account interprets the Coming One as the Son of David. We possess no direct proof that this expression (the Coming One), which is derived from Psalm 11825 ff[.], was employed in Jesus’ time for the Messiah. It has been shown, however, that the Baptist as well as Jesus applied it rather to the Forerunner Elijah. It is therefore unhistorical when Matthew represents the people as acclaiming in the same [pg 158] breath both the Coming One and the Son of David.
Mark has here, too, preserved in his detail the original situation. The people acclaimed Jesus as the “Coming One,” i. e. as the Forerunner, and sings an “Hosanna in the highest” to the Kingdom which is soon to descend upon earth. A fine distinction is made in the use of Hosanna and Hosanna in the highest (“places” is to be supplied). The former applies to the Forerunner present in their midst; the latter, to the heavenly Kingdom. The secondary character of the account in Matthew is evident in the fact that it applies to the Son of David and to the Coming One not only an Hosanna but likewise an Hosanna in the highest,—whereby the Messiah is first assumed to be on earth and then, still in heaven! Here it becomes plain that the second Hosanna belonged originally with the Kingdom.
The entrance into Jerusalem, therefore, was an ovation not to the Messiah but to the Forerunner. But then it is impossible that the people understood the scene with the blind man as indicating that Jesus welcomed the address “Son of David.”
Here again it is a question of Synoptical detail by which the scene is totally changed. [pg 159] The shout in the name of the Son of David is incidental. The question is only whether the public could and must conceive it as a form of address. This conception is evidently that of Matthew and Luke, but by Mark it is excluded.
According to the Matthean account, two blind men sit by the wayside and cry, Have mercy upon us, Son of David (Mt 2030).
In Luke the cry runs: Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy upon me (Lk 1838). Thereupon Jesus comes to a stand before him, converses with him, and heals him.
According to Mark, the blind beggar, son of Timæus, is sitting behind the multitude at the edge of the road. Jesus does not see him, cannot address him, but hears only a voice, which reaches him as from the ground out of the midst of the stir, of one calling upon the Son of David for help. Jesus comes to a stand and sends to have him fetched! They follow the voice and find the man sitting upon the ground. Rise, he calleth thee! they say to him. He throws away his garment, springs up, and presses through the crowd to Jesus. As Jesus sees the man approaching him thus he can have no idea that he is blind! He has to ask him, therefore, what he wants. The distance, the heat, [pg 160] the sending to fetch him, the nimble approach,—all this Matthew has dropped. He has simplified the situation: Jesus encounters the two blind men on the road and at once addresses them. Only he has retained from the original situation the question, “what is wanted?”—which in Mark is actually necessary, but in Matthew remains unaccountable, for there Jesus must see that he has to do with two blind men!
But if there lay such a distance between Jesus and the blind man, no one could have an idea that he took the monotonous cry about the Son of David as an address to himself! It was just simply an annoying cry, which the bystanders sought in vain to silence. The people attached as little importance to it as to the cries of the demons—if in fact they understood it at all.
The address of the beggar was of an entirely different tenor and shows that he no more took Jesus for the Messiah than did the people: “Rabbi, that I may receive my sight.” For him, therefore, Jesus was the rabbi from Nazareth.
If one keep this situation in view, it will be seen that the bystanders could in no way get the idea that Jesus here welcomes a messianic [pg 161] acclaim. This, however, was the first sign which he again performed after coming out of his retirement. Thereby he legitimated himself before the Paschal caravan as the Forerunner, for which his adherents in Galilee took him before he suddenly withdrew into solitude in the north. Now the demonstration is let loose, and they prepare for him as the Forerunner the ovation at the entrance into Jerusalem.
In demonstrating the proper character of this occurrence one has to deal with apparently insignificant detail to which not everyone may be inclined to ascribe due importance. In view of this the following points are to be kept in mind:
1. In the representation which assumes the messiahship of Jesus there must come about as of itself a shifting of detail which has the effect of describing a messianic entrance. This is the case with Matthew. There is no evidence of a deliberate purpose on the part of the writer.
2. Mark’s delineation shows such originality in comparison with the parallels (one has but to think of the story of the Baptism and the report of the Last Supper) that one cannot easily lay too great weight upon the peculiarity [pg 162] of his account,—especially when it results in so clear and consistent a picture as is here the case.
3. Nothing is accomplished by the assertion that proof has not been brought that it was assuredly a question of an ovation to the Forerunner. For then it remains to demonstrate how it was, that, on the presumption that it was actually an ovation to the Messiah, the transactions in the Jerusalem days make no allusion at all to the presumed messianic pretension and the venal accusers do not appeal to any such claims. What must the Roman procurator have done if a man had marched into the city hailed by the populace as the Son of David?
4. The true historical apprehension is peculiarly difficult for us here because of our notion that the signs and wonders were regarded by the contemporaries as a confirmation of the messiahship of Jesus. In that opinion we share the standpoint upon which the Johannine representation is based. According to the conception of Jesus’ contemporaries, however, the Messiah needs no signs, but rather he will be at once manifest in his power! The signs belong on the contrary to the period of the Forerunner!
5. Our translation also has a prejudicial [pg 163] effect. The word ἐρχόμενοζ denotes in all passages a personality sharply defined for that time. Hence one must in every case translate it in accord with this perception,—not one time as a substantive [cf. the German Bible] and again (in the story of the ovation) as a verb-form, just as happens to be most convenient. “The Coming One” is the Forerunner, because before the messianic judgment he is to come in the name of God to put everything in order.
We arrive therefore at the conclusion: Until the confession before the council Jesus was publicly regarded as the Forerunner, as he had been already in Galilee.
It is exceedingly difficult to gather from the Synoptic accounts a clear picture of the events which happened after the mission of the Twelve. When did the Disciples return? Where did Jesus betake himself during their absence? What sort of success did the Disciples have? What events happened between their return and the departure for the north? Were these events of a sort to account for Jesus’ determination to withdraw with them into solitude?
The accounts supply no answer to these questions. Moreover they confront us with another, a purely literary problem. The connection between the several scenes is here extraordinarily broken. It seems almost as if the thread of the narration were here completely lost. Only at the moment of departure for the journey to Jerusalem do the [pg 165] scenes begin to stand again in a clear and natural relationship.
First of all we have to do with two obvious doublettes: the feeding of the multitude and the subsequent journey on the lake (Mk 631, 56 = Mk 81, 21). In both instances Jesus is overtaken by the multitude as he lands on a lonely shore after a journey across the lake. Then he returns again to the Galilean village on the west shore. Here in his accustomed field of activity he encounters the Pharisaic emissaries from Jerusalem. They call him to account. In the series which contains the first account of the feeding of the multitude the question at issue is about hand-washing (Mk 71-23), in the second case it is the requirement of a sign (Mk 811-13). The first series concludes with the departure for the north, where in the neighbourhood of Tyre and Sidon he meets the Canaanitish woman (Mk 724-30). In the second series the journey to Cæsarea Philippi (Mk 827) follows upon his encounter with the Pharisees.
We have here therefore two independent accounts of the same epoch in Jesus’s life. In their plan they match one another perfectly, differing only in the choice of the events to be related. These two narrative series are as it were predestinated to be [pg 166] united instead of being placed side by side. It happens that each of the northern journeys, according to the narrative, begins and ends with a sojourn in Galilee. Mk 731: After leaving the region of Tyre he came through Sidon to the Sea of Galilee. Mk 930, 33: And they went forth from thence (i. e. from Cæsarea Philippi) and wandered through Galilee and came to Capernaum. At the end of one narrative series one finds oneself again at the beginning of the other. Hence if one connect the one return from the north with the beginning of the other narrative series, one has, superficially viewed, a perfectly natural continuation,—only that Jesus must now, incomprehensibly enough, start back immediately for the north, instead of the return to Galilee being a stage on the journey to Jerusalem! This is the order that was finally followed, but it is only in the second return that the narrative finds a point of attachment for the journey to Jerusalem.
This return movement in both series accounts for the fact that the two narratives, though they are really parallel cycles, are yet attached to one another in chronological sequence. The present text has completed the process of harmonising them. It is not simply that the story of the second feeding of [pg 167] the multitude makes reference to the first in the word “again” (Mk 81): the reconciliation is in fact carried so far that Jesus in one word addressed to the Disciples assumes both miracles (Mk 819-21)! How far this process was already accomplished in the oral tradition, and how much is to be charged to the account of the final literary composition, is a question which we are no longer in a position to answer.
Only the first cycle is complete. Jesus and his Disciples travel by boat north-east along the coast and return then again to the country of Genezareth (Mk 632, 45, 53).
The second cycle is incomplete and fallen somewhat into disorder. Jesus is back on the west coast after his voyage. Mk 810 ff. corresponds with Mk 653 ff. and Mk 71 ff. Dalmanutha lies on the west coast. But instead of his departing now directly for the north, there comes first another voyage to the east coast (Mk 813). It is not till they reach Bethsaida that he starts with his Disciples northward (Mk 827). The first cycle on the other hand relates this voyage to Bethsaida as an episode of the famous coasting voyage and places it immediately after the feeding of the multitude (Mk 645 ff[.]). And as a matter of fact the second narrative series also shows [pg 168] that this was the original connection. For here, too, as in the first series, the conversation upon landing deals with the foregoing miracle. Mk 652: “For they understood not concerning the loaves, but their heart was hardened.” Mk 819-21: “When I brake the five loaves—when the seven—do ye not yet understand?” It is therefore impossible that between this voyage and the feeding of the multitude all the events were crowded which were enacted upon the west shore. The minds of all are still full of the great event. The new sea journey of the second cycle is nothing else but the original continuation of the voyage to Bethsaida from the scene of the feeding of the multitude.
Therewith the parallelism of the two series is proven. The events follow one another in this order: coasting voyage from the west shore, feeding of the multitude, continuation of the voyage to the north-east, “walking upon the sea” and conversation in the boat, arrival at Bethsaida, return to the region of Genezareth, discussion with the Pharisees, departure with the Disciples to the north.
The Disciples’ proclamation of the immediate approach of the Kingdom must have [pg 169] had a great success. A mighty multitude of such as believed the message crowded around Jesus. He had about him a community inspired by the most lively eschatological expectation. They would not let go of him. In order to be alone with his Disciples he embarks in a boat. He meant to withdraw to the north-east shore. But the people, when they learned that he would take himself away, streamed together from all sides and followed him along the beach. Mk 632, 33: “For there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat. And they went away in a boat to a desert place apart. And the people saw them going, and many knew them, and they ran there together on foot from all the cities and outwent them.”
They meet him in a lonely region and immediately surround him. The hour comes for the daily meal. In the accounts of the following miracle the meal which they celebrated is preserved to us. The occasion was a solemn cultus-meal! After the loaves which he had broken were consecrated by a prayer of thanksgiving Jesus has them distributed to the multitude by his Disciples. Except for the addition of the two parables [“My body—my blood”] we have absolutely the same solemn ceremony at the Last Supper. [pg 170] There he personally distributed the food to his table-companions. The description of the distribution of the bread in the two cases corresponds perfectly. Mk 641: He took the loaves, and looking up to heaven, he blessed them, and he gave to the Disciples to set before them. Mk 1422: He took a loaf, and when he had blessed, he brake it, and gave to them.
Hence the solemn act of distribution constitutes the essence, as well of that meal by the seashore, as of the last meal with his Disciples. The “Lord’s Supper” is a name appropriate to both, for that meal by the sea also took place at the evening hour. Mk 635: And when the day was now far spent his Disciples came to him, etc. Here the table-company is composed of the great multitude of believers in the Kingdom: at the Last Supper it was limited to the circle of the Disciples. The celebration, however, was the same.
The story of this event has been distorted into a miracle: the cultus-meal which Jesus improvised by the seashore has been represented as a hearty and filling supper. That the scanty provision which was at hand, the food designed for himself and his Disciples, was solemnly distributed to the people is historic. [pg 171] That this meal took the place of the evening repast likewise corresponds with the fact. But that through a supernatural process the multitude was filled by it,—that belongs to the miraculous character which the later age ascribed to the celebration because its significance could not be apprehended.
The historical procedure is the following: The Disciples ask Jesus to send the people away that they may be fed. For him, however, it is not an appropriate moment to think of an earthly meal and so to disperse, for the hour is near when they shall all be gathered about him at the messianic banquet. Hence he would not have them go yet, but before he dismisses them he commands them to recline as at table. In place of the full meal he introduces a ceremonial meal, in which the satisfaction of earthly appetite has no part, so that the food intended for himself and his Disciples sufficed for all.
Neither the Disciples nor the multitude understand what goes on. As Jesus afterwards in the boat directs the conversation to the significance of the meal—this alone can be the historical meaning of the obscure intimations of Mk 652 and Mk 814-21, it appears that the Disciples have understood nothing.
He celebrated, therefore, a sacred cultus-meal [pg 172] the meaning of which was clear to him alone. He did not count it necessary to explain to them the meaning of the ceremony. The memory, however, of that mysterious supper on the lonely seashore lived on vividly in the tradition and grew to the account of the miraculous feeding. Wherein did the solemnity of this distribution consist for Jesus? The gathering at the feast is of an eschatological character. The people that gathered about him by the seaside were awaiting with him the dawn of the Kingdom. In replacing now the customary full meal with a sacred ceremonial meal, at which he distributed food with thanksgiving to God, he acted at the prompting of his messianic consciousness. As one who knew himself to be the Messiah, and would be manifested to them as such at the imminent dawn of the Kingdom, he distributes, to those whom he expects soon to join him at the messianic banquet, sacred food, as though he would give them therewith an earnest of their participation in that future solemnity. The time for earthly meals is passed: hence he celebrates with them a foretaste of the messianic banquet. They, however, understood it not, for they could not guess that he who distributed to them such consecrated eucharistic [pg 173] food was conscious of being the Messiah and acted as such.
In this connection there falls a light upon the nature of the Last Supper at Jerusalem. There the Disciples represented the community of believers in the Kingdom. In the course of that last meal Jesus distributed to them with a word of thanksgiving food and drink. But now they know what he assumes to be: he had disclosed to them the secret of his messiahship. From this they are able to divine in his distribution the reference to the messianic banquet. He himself gave this significance to his action in the fact that he concluded the ceremony with a hint of their proximate reunion when he should drink the wine new with them in his Father’s Kingdom!
The supper by the seaside and the supper at Jerusalem therefore correspond completely, except that in the latter Jesus signified to his Disciples the nature of the ceremony and at the same time expresses the thought of the Passion in the two parables [“My body— my blood”]. The cultus-meal was the same: a foretaste of the messianic banquet in the circle of the fellowship of the believers in the Kingdom. Now for the first time one is able to understand how the nature [pg 174] of the Last Supper can be independent of the two parables.
During the ceremony Jesus was deeply moved. For this reason he urged immediate departure and dismissed the people. He himself withdrew to a mountain in order to be alone in prayer. On the beach at Bethsaida, whither he had charged them to row, he again met his Disciples. They, battling with wind and wave, had the illusion that a supernatural apparition approached them as they descried his figure on the beach. They still were so much under the influence of the impression lately made upon them by the mighty personality who with mysterious majesty had distributed to the multitude sacred food and then had suddenly broken off the ceremony (Mk 645-52).
Whither had he sent away the multitude? What did they do at Bethsaida? How long did they stay there? Our text merely recounts that they returned again to Genezareth.
At this point, however, we encounter a difficult literary problem, in the Synoptical narrative of the period immediately preceding the departure for Jerusalem (Mk 930). [pg 175] According to Mk 827-33, Jesus is now alone with his Disciples far away in the north, in heathen territory,—from which point also he sets out on the rapid march through Galilee to Jerusalem (Mk 930 ff.): “And they went forth from thence and passed through Galilee, and he would not that any man should know it.” Between the disclosure of his messiahship and this departure there intervenes only one scene (Mk 834- 929), where he appears surrounded by a great multitude of people. In company with the three intimate Disciples he leaves the multitude, only to return to them shortly again. It is nowhere recounted how this multitude suddenly gets to him in heathen territory. And just as little are we informed how it leaves him again, so that (according to Mk 930 ff.) he can march through Galilee alone with his Disciples and unrecognised.
But it is not only the multitude that appears unexpectedly: the whole scenery also is altered. One finds oneself in a familiar region, for Jesus enters with his Disciples “into the house,” while the people stay without (Mk 928)!
The literary context in which the section stands is absolutely impossible, for this cannot have been enacted in heathen territory, [pg 176] but only in Galilee! But as Jesus subsequently had only a fleeting contact with Galilee, passing through it incognito, this piece belongs in the Galilean period before the departure for the north, and more precisely, at the time of the return of the Disciples, for it is then that he was constantly surrounded by a throng of people and was seeking to be in solitude with his Disciples!
The situation, however may confidently be defined with still greater exactness. Jesus dwelt in a village (Mk 928) in the neighbourhood of which there was a mountain to which he betook himself with the three Disciples (Mk 92). All this agrees, however, most certainly with the sojourn in Bethsaida. The mountain which he seeks with the Three is the mountain on the north shore of the lake where he prayed in the night when he came to Bethsaida!
The passage Mk 834- 929 belongs therefore in the days at Bethsaida! It is no longer possible to make out by what process it came into the present impossible context. The adoption of the present order may have been prompted in part by the consideration that the impressive word about the obligation of following Jesus in suffering (Mk 834- 91) seemed to form a most natural conclusion to [pg 177] the prediction of the Passion at Cæsarea Philippi (Mk 831-33).
Moreover the transformation of the account of Jesus meeting his Disciples at their landing into a miracle made it difficult to effect a natural connection with the events which occurred the following morning. And yet Mk 834 ff. may fairly be said to imply such measures as were adopted the evening before (Mk 645-47). Jesus had dismissed the people, had himself retired to solitude, and while it was yet night had overtaken his Disciples at Bethsaida, where they found lodging in a house (Mk 928). The next day he calls the people about him with the Disciples (Mk 834) and speaks to them about the requirement of self-denial on the part of his followers, readiness to endure shame, scorn, ridicule, rather than prove untrue to him. This conduct is justified by the nearness of the coming of the Son of Man, who will perform judgment in the person of Jesus.
This admonition concludes with a word about “the coming of the Kingdom of God with power,” i. e. the eschatological realisation of it. In its present form it is toned down: some of them that stand by shall not taste of death till that moment arrive. As the conclusion of this address, however, it [pg 178] must have run: Ye who stand here shall soon experience the great moment of the mighty dawn of the Kingdom of God! Thus this earnest address at Bethsaida reflects the expectations which stirred Jesus and the throng about him.
Six days after that address at Bethsaida Jesus took with him the Three and led them to the mountain where he had prayed in solitude at evening after the great cultus-meal in common. At their return they find the other Disciples surrounded by the people. In spite of the authority over demons of which they had made proof during their progress through the cities of Israel, they were now not able to master a demoniac boy who was brought to them. Jesus takes the father and boy apart. The very moment that the people come running together (Mk 925-27) the crisis begins, after which Jesus takes by the hand the lad, who was lying as dead, and raises him up.
This passage, therefore, which has been wrested so strangely out of its connection, contains a striking account of the first and last days of the week which Jesus passed in Bethsaida between the return of the Disciples and the departure for the north.
It will now be perfectly clear how unhistoric [pg 179] is the view that Jesus left Galilee in consequence of growing opposition and spreading defection. On the contrary, this is the period of his highest triumph. A multitude of people with faith in the Kingdom thronged him and pursued him everywhere. Hardly has he landed upon the west coast but they are already there. Their number has grown still greater and increases more and more (Mk 653-56). That they deserted him, that they even showed the least motion of doubt or defection, the texts give no intimation. It was not the people that deserted Jesus but Jesus that deserted the people.
This he did, not out of any fear of the emissaries from Jerusalem, but only as carrying out what he already had in mind since the return of the Disciples. He wishes to be alone. The people had defeated this aim by following him along the shore as he sailed. When he had returned to the west coast he found himself again surrounded. Because he felt it absolutely necessary to be alone with the Disciples, and because he was not able to effect this purpose in Galilee, for this cause he suddenly vanished and betook himself into heathen territory. The journey into the north country is not a flight, rather it has the same motive as the voyage on the lake.
COMING after Cæsarea Philippi the Transfiguration is an obscure episode devoid of historical significance. The Three learn no more about Jesus than Peter had already confessed in the presence of the Twelve and Jesus himself had confirmed. Thus the whole section is plainly an intrusion: the apotheosis and obscure dialogue have no historical significance.
If, however, as has been proved above by literary evidence, this scene was enacted some weeks after the mission of the Twelve and before Cæsarea Philippi—not upon the mountain of the legend, but on the mountain in the lonely region by the seashore near Bethsaida,—then we behold an idle addendum transformed at one stroke into a Galilean occurrence of far reaching historical importance, which explains the scene at Cæsarea Philippi, and not vice versa. What we call [pg 181] the Transfiguration is in reality nothing else but the revelation of the secret of messiahship to the Three. A few weeks later comes then its disclosure to the Twelve.
This revelation to the Three is handed down to us in the form of a miracle-tale. It has undergone the same transformation as have all the incidents of that voyage along the north coast. The scene on the mountain, like the feeding of the multitude and the encounter of Jesus with his disciples at dusk, bears evident marks of the intense eschatological excitement of the moment. For this reason the historical facts are no longer clear in detail. There appear unto them Moses and Elijah, the two characters most prominently associated with the expectation of the last times. To what extent may ecstatic conditions, and perhaps glossolalia, have contributed to this experience? The present form of the story permits us to infer something of the sort (Mk 92-6). Does the voice out of the cloud (Mk 97, “This is my beloved Son, hear ye him”) repeat in some sort Jesus’ experience at his baptism?
There is in fact an inward connection between the Baptism and the Transfiguration. In both cases a condition of ecstasy accompanies the revelation of the secret of Jesus’ [pg 182] person. The first time the revelation was for him alone; here the Disciples also share it. It is not clear to what extent they themselves were transported by the experience. So much is sure, that in a dazed condition, out of which they awake only at the end of the scene (Mk 98), the figure of Jesus appears to them illuminated by a supernatural light and glory, and a voice intimates that he is the Son of God. The occurrence can be explained only as the outcome of great eschatological excitement.
It is remarkable that the revelation of the secret of Jesus’ messiahship appears always to be connected with such conditions. At Pentecost, when Peter openly proclaimed Jesus as the Christ, we have an example of glossolalia. Peter, to be sure, had already had a taste of such an experience as the revelation was made to him on the mountain near Bethsaida. Paul also was in a state of ecstasy when he heard the voice before the Damascus gate.
It has been shown above that no one could conclude from Jesus’ speech or behaviour that he regards himself as the Messiah. Properly the question is not, how the people could remain ignorant of Jesus’ messianic claim, but how Peter at Cæsarea Philippi [pg 183] and the High Priest at the trial could come into possession of this secret.
The Transfiguration answers the first question. Peter knew that Jesus is the “Son of God” through the revelation which he in common with the two other Disciples received on the mountain near Bethsaida. For this reason he answered the question with such confidence (Mk 829). The text of St. Matthew’s Gospel records an additional saying of Jesus which seems to allude to the very experience in which this knowledge was supernaturally imparted to Peter: “Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jonah: for flesh and blood hath not revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven” (Mt 1617).
Moreover, the scene which follows upon Peter’s answer clearly has to do with a secret common to him and to Jesus. When Jesus disclosed that he must die in Jerusalem Peter turns upon him impetuously, takes him apart, and speaks to him in excited tones. As Jesus sees that the other Disciples are attentive he abruptly turns away from Peter with a sharp word, calling him the Tempter, who minds not the things of God but the things of men (Mk 832 and 833).
Why this agitation of Peter over Jesus’ disclosure about the fatal journey to Jerusalem? [pg 184] Because it comes as a new factor, above and beyond what was disclosed on the mountain near Bethsaida. About that experience he dare not speak in the presence of the other Disciples, because Jesus had forbidden it. For this reason he takes Jesus apart. Jesus, however, seeing that the other Disciples are listening, cannot explain matters to him, and so with passionate abruptness enjoins silence.
Only the connection with the foregoing Transfiguration explains the characteristic traits of the scene at Cæsarea Philippi. Psychological observations about the quick apprehension and lively temperament of Peter—the common expedients of modern interpretation—do not in fact begin to explain why he alone should arrive with such confidence at the knowledge of Jesus’ messiahship, only to fall a moment later into such misunderstanding that he gets into an excited dispute with Jesus. Why do they both go apart together? Why, instead of instructing him, does Jesus leave him there with a hard word of rebuke?
Taken by itself the whole scene at Cæsarea Philippi is an enigma. If, however, we assume that the Transfiguration preceded it, the enigma is solved and the scene is illuminated [pg 185] down to the smallest details. The revelation to the Twelve was preceded by the disclosure to the Three of the secret of Jesus’ messiahship.
Meanwhile the revelation of the secret of his messiahship alters nothing in the behaviour of the Disciples to Jesus. They do not sink before him in the dust as if now the man whom they had known was become a superhuman being. They only manifest in consequence of this revelation a certain awe. They dare not interrogate him when they fail to understand his words (Mk 932), and as they company with him they appear to be aware that he carries within him a great secret.
Are we to imagine then that after this revelation of his secret Jesus was henceforth regarded by his disciples as the Messiah? No, not yet was he the Messiah. It must constantly be kept in mind that the Kingdom and the Messiah are correlative terms which belong inseparably together. Now if the Kingdom was not yet come, neither was the Messiah. Jesus’ disclosure had reference to the time of the dawning of the Kingdom. When [pg 186] that hour shall strike, then shall he appear as Messiah, then shall his messiahship be revealed in glory. Such was the secret which he solemnly made known to his disciples.
Jesus’ messiahship was a secret, not merely because he had forbidden it to be spoken, but in its very nature it was a secret, inasmuch as it could be realised only at a definite time in the future. It was a conception which could be formulated fully only in his own consciousness. Wherefore the people could not understand it—and need not know anything about it. It was enough if by his word and his signs he might convert them to faith in the nearness of the kingdom, for with the coming of the Kingdom his messiahship would be manifest.
It is almost impossible to express in modern terms the consciousness of messiahship which Jesus imparted as a secret to his Disciples. Whether we describe it as an identity between him and the Son of Man who is to appear, whether we express it as a continuity which unites both personalities, or think of it as virtually a pre-existent messiahship,—none of these modern conceptions can render the consciousness of Jesus as the Disciples understood it.
What we lack is the “Now and Then” [pg 187] which dominated their thinking and which explains a curious duality of consciousness that was characteristic of them. What we might call identity, continuity, and potentiality was in their mind confounded in a conception which quite eludes our grasp. Every person figured himself in two entirely different states, according as he thought of himself now, in the pre-messianic age, or then in the messianic. Expressions which we interpret only in accordance with our unity of consciousness, they referred as a matter of course to the double consciousness familiar to them. Therefore when Jesus revealed to them the secret of his messiahship, that did not mean to them that he is the Messiah, as we moderns must understand it; rather it signified for them that their Lord and Master was the one who in the messianic age would be revealed as Messiah.
They think of themselves also in terms of this double consciousness. As often as Jesus made known to them the necessity of his suffering before entering upon his rule they questioned within themselves what manner of persons they should be in the coming age. Wherefore, following upon the prophecies of the Passion we find rivalry among the Disciples as to which shall be the greatest in the [pg 188] Kingdom, or to whom shall be accorded the seats of honour on either side of the throne. In the meanwhile, however, they remain what they are, and Jesus remains what he is, their Teacher and Master. The sons of Zebedee address him as “Master” (Mk 1035). As Teacher they expect him to give promise and assurance of what shall come to pass when the Kingdom dawns and his messiahship is revealed.
In this sense, then, Jesus’ messianic consciousness is futuristic. There was nothing strange in this either for him or for his Disciples. On the contrary, it corresponded exactly to the Jewish conception of the hidden life and labour of the Messiah. (Cf. Weber: System der altsynagogalen Theologie, 1880, pp. 342-446). The course of Jesus’ earthly life preceded his messiahship in glory. The Messiah in his earthly estate must live and labour unrecognised, he must teach, and through deed and suffering he must be made perfect in righteousness. Not till then shall the messianic age dawn with the Last Judgment and the establishment of the Kingdom. The Messiah must come from the north. Jesus’ march from Cæsarea Philippi to Jerusalem was the progress of the unrecognised Messiah to his triumph in glory.
Thus in the midst of the messianic expectation of his people stood Jesus as the Messiah that is to be. He dare not reveal himself to them, for the season of his hidden labour was not yet over. Hence he preached the near approach of the Kingdom of God.
It was this futuristic consciousness of messiahship which prompted Jesus in the Temple to touch upon the messianic dogma of the Scribes, as though he would call their attention to the secret which lurks behind it. The Pharisees say, “The Messiah is David’s Son;” but David calls him his Lord. How can he still be his Son (Mk 1235-37)?
The Messiah is David’s Son—that is, subordinate to him—since in this era he is born of human parentage and lives and labours in obscurity. David’s Lord, because at the dawn of the coming era he will be revealed as Christ in glory. Jesus has no notion of impeaching the pharisaic dogma. It is correct, the Scripture so teaches. Only, the Pharisees themselves cannot properly interpret their dogma, and so cannot explain how the Messiah can be in one instance David’s Son and in another, David’s Lord.
This saying of Jesus to the people in the Temple—(only Matthew has made of [pg 190] it an embarrassing polemic)—is on a line with his utterance about the Baptist. Whoever could apprehend with what authority John baptised—that is, with the power and authority of Elijah,—whoever could understand how the Messiah could be in one instance David’s son, in another David’s Lord,—he must know also who he is that so speaks. He that hath ears to hear, let him hear!
The expression “Son of David” contains an enigma. Therefore Jesus never used it in speaking of his messiahship, but always refers to himself as the “Son of Man.” Consequently this designation must have been peculiarly apt as a rendering of his messianic consciousness.
It is evident that he chose this term deliberately. Every other messianic designation that is applied to him he corrects and interprets by “Son of Man.”
As they descend from the mountain where the Disciples had come to recognise him as the Son of God he speaks of himself as the “Son of Man” (Mk 97-9).
Peter proclaimed him before the others as “the Anointed one” (Mk 829). Jesus immediately [pg 191] proceeds to instruct them about the fate of the “Son of Man” (Mk 831).
“Art thou the Christ the Son of the Blessed?” the High Priest asked him (Mk 1461). “Ye shall see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of power and coming with the clouds of heaven,” is Jesus’ answer. That signifies, Yes. The same expression occurs in the second and in the third prophecy of the Passion (Mk 930-32 and Mk 1032-34) and in the saying about serving (Mk 1045).
The messianic title “Son of Man” is futuristic in character. It refers to the moment in which the Messiah shall come upon the clouds of heaven for judgment. From the beginning this was the sense in which Jesus had used the expression, whether in speaking to the people or to the Disciples. In sending out his Apostles he warned them of the impending approach of the day of the Son of Man (Mt 1023). He spoke to the people of the coming of the Son of Man as an exhortation to be faithful to him, Jesus (Mk 838).
Withal, he and the Son of Man remain for the people and for the Disciples two entirely distinct personalities. The one is a terrestrial, the other a celestial figure; the one belongs to the age that now is, the other to the messianic period. Between the two there exists [pg 192] solidarity, inasmuch as the Son of Man will intervene in behalf of such as have ranged themselves on the side of Jesus, the herald of his coming.
These are the passages one must take as the point of departure in order to understand the significance of this expression in Jesus’ mouth. Jesus and the Son of Man are different persons for such as do not know his secret. They, however, to whom he has revealed his secret are aware of a personal connection between the two. Jesus it is who at the messianic day shall appear as the Son of Man. The revelation at Cæsarea Philippi consists in this, that Jesus reveals to his Disciples in what personal relationship he stands to the coming Son of Man. As the one who is to be the Son of Man he can confirm Peter’s confession of him as the Messiah. His reply to the High Priest is affirmative in the same sense. He is the Messiah—that they will see when he appears as the Son of Man upon the clouds of heaven.
“Son of Man” is accordingly the adequate expression of his messiahship, so long as he, in this earthly æon as Jesus of Nazareth, has occasion to refer to his future dignity. Hence when he speaks to the Disciples about himself as the Son of Man he assumes this [pg 193] duality of consciousness. “The Son of Man must suffer and will then rise from the dead:” that is to say, “As the one who is to be Son of Man at the resurrection of the dead I must suffer.” To the same effect we must understand the word about serving: As the one who in the character of the Son of Man is destined to the highest rule I must now humble myself to the lowliest service (Mk 1045). Therefore he says when they come to arrest him: The hour is come in the which he who is to be the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinners (Mk 1421, 41).
The problem about the Son of Man is herewith elucidated. It was not an expression which Jesus commonly used to describe himself, but a solemn title which he adopted when in the great moments of his life he spoke about himself to the initiated as the future Messiah, while before the others he spoke of the Son of Man as a personality distinct from himself. In all cases, however, the context shows that he is speaking of one who is yet to come, for in all these passages mention is made either of the Resurrection or of the appearing upon the clouds of heaven. The philological objections do not therefore apply here. Initiated and uninitiated must understand from the situation that he is speaking [pg 194] of a definite personality of the future,—and not of man in general, even though the expression in both cases would be the same.
The case is entirely different with another set of
passages where the expression occurs arbitrarily as a pure
self-designation, a roundabout way of saying “I.” Here
all critical and philological objections are thoroughly in
place.
Mt 820,—The Son of Man hath not where to lay his
head.
Mt 1119,—The Son of Man is come eating and drinking
(in contrast to the Baptist).
Mt 1232,—Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is a worse
crime than speaking evil of the Son of Man.
Mt 1240,—The Son of Man will be three days in the
earth, like Jonah in the belly of the fish.
Mt 1337, 41,—The Son of Man is the Sower; the Son of
Man is the lord of the reapers.
Mt 1613,—Who do the people say that the Son of Man
is?
Here the expression is philologically impossible. For if Jesus had so used it, his hearers must simply have understood him to [pg 195] mean “man.” There is nothing here to indicate that the word is meant to express a future messianic dignity! Here in fact he designates by it his actual present condition! But “Son of Man” is a messianic title of futuristic character, since it always suggests a coming upon the clouds, according to Daniel 713-14. Furthermore, in all of these passages the Disciples are as yet ignorant of Jesus’ secret. For them the Son of Man is still an entirely distinct person. The unity of the subject is still completely unknown to them. Therefore they were not in a position to understand that by this term he refers to himself, but they must refer everything to that Son of Man of whose coming he also spoke elsewhere. Therewith, however, the passages would be meaningless, for they imply that Jesus is thus speaking of himself.
Historically and philologically it is therefore impossible that Jesus could have employed the expression as a purposeless and matter of course self-designation. Even as a self-designation referable to the future messianic dignity that was to be his, only they could understand it who knew his secret. Hence all the passages are unhistorical in which, previous to Cæsarea Philippi (or, for the Three, previous to the Transfiguration), [pg 196] he designates himself as Son of Man. Only those in that period are historical in which he speaks of the Son of Man as a figure yet to come, not identical with himself (Mt 1023 and Mk 838). The passages cited above, in which the expression is used without its proper significance as a mere self-designation, are therefore not historical, but are comprehensible only as the result of a literary process. How does it come about that a later period of Gospel composition regarded this expression as “Jesus’ self-designation”?
This was due to a shifting of the perspective. It is observable from the moment when men began to write the history of Jesus upon the assumption that on earth he was already the Messiah. From that time on men lost consciousness of the fact that for the earthly existence of Jesus his very messiahship was something future, and that by the very expression Son of Man he designated himself as the future Messiah. Since, then, it was an historic fact that he spoke of himself as the Son of Man, the writers appropriated this emphatic term and without suspecting that it was appropriate only in certain sayings and in definite situations, they employed it indifferently in any passage where Jesus spoke of himself,—and thereby [pg 197] created these philological and historical impossibilities.
This erroneous use was due therefore to a literary development of markedly secondary character. In this respect it was like the unhistorical use of the expression “Son of David” by Matthew. It agrees thereto that the “Son of Man” passages here in question belong likewise to a secondary stratum of St. Matthew’s Gospel.
What chiefly reveals their secondary character is: the transformation of the simple question asked at Cæsarea Philippi (Mt 1613); the application of the parable of the sower (Mt 1337, 41); and the false interpretation of the saying about Jonah (Mt 1240).
No less secondary is the formulation of the speech about the sin against the Holy Ghost, where a contrast is drawn between blasphemy against the Holy Ghost and against the Son of Man (Mt 1232), whereas in Jesus’ thought both came to the same thing, since it was a question of conscious hardening against the power of the coming Kingdom which worked in him. In the passages Mt 820 and Mt 1119 the expression is arbitrarily used, for Jesus merely wishes to say: I have nowhere to lay my head; and, I eat and drink, in contrast to the ascetic practice of the Baptist.
It is quite a different case which is presented by the
two unhistorical “Son of Man” passages in St. Mark’s
Gospel.
Mk 210—The Son of Man hath authority to forgive
sins upon earth.
Mk 228—The Son of Man is lord of the Sabbath.
The secondary character appears in the fact that Jesus is supposed to have used the expression here as a self-designation. The historical fact is that he used it in that connection in the third person, referring either to the Son of Man as an eschatological figure, or to man in general. In either case it makes sense.
1. Man as such can by works of healing declare the forgiveness of sins upon earth.
Man as man is lord of the Sabbath.
2. In view of the coming of the Son of Man forgiveness of sins is already available, as the works of healing show.
In view of the coming of the Son of Man a higher factor already emerges to modify the legalistic observance of the Sabbath.
The Law yields to something higher. The case of David shows it.
However one may explain these passages, [pg 199] one thing is clear: the expression did actually occur here and did somehow modify Jesus’ statement. The only secondary trait appears in the use of the expression as a self-designation, whereas in fact Jesus spoke of man in general or of the Son of Man. These passages, therefore, are on the threshold between the historical and the literary-unhistorical use of the name “Son of Man.”
We can now understand the peculiar difficulty of the “Son of Man” problem. Hitherto, the deeper the investigation went, so much the further the solution seemed to recede. This was due to the fact that no amount of reflection could effect the separation of passages of such unequal worth. Thus the literary and historical sides of the problem remained confounded with one another. The moment, however, the discovery is made, from the study of Jesus’ messianic consciousness, that the expression Son of Man is the only one by which he could utter the secret of his future dignity, the separation is given. All those passages are historical which show the influence of the apocalyptic reference to the Son of Man in Daniel: all are unhistorical in which such is not the case. At the same time the shifting of the perspective explains why for writers of a later generation this [pg 200] expression in Jesus’ mouth could have only the significance of an arbitrary self-designation, appropriate in all situations where he spoke of himself.
Finally, the last enigma is also solved. Why does the expression disappear from the language of the primitive Church? Why does no one (with exception of Acts 756) designate the Messiah by the title Son of Man, notwithstanding that Jesus had used it exclusively to indicate his dignity? This is due to the fact that “Son of Man” was the messianic expression for a clearly defined episode of the messianic drama. The Messiah was the Son of Man in the moment of his manifestation upon the clouds of heaven to reign in judgment over the world. Jesus thought exclusively of that moment, since only from that moment on was he for men the Messiah. The primitive Church, however, seeing that a transitional period intervened, beheld Jesus as the Messiah in heaven above at the right hand of God. He was already the Messiah and did not have to become such at the moment of the appearing of the Son of Man. Because the perspective was shifted here also, one used the general expression “Messiah” instead of the title “Son of Man” which pointed to a particular scene.
Jesus would have expressed himself inaccurately had he said, I am the Messiah,—for that he was to be only when he appeared in glory as the Son of Man.
The primitive Church would have expressed itself inaccurately had it said, Jesus is the Son of Man,—for after the Resurrection he was the Messiah at the right hand of God, whose coming as Son of Man the Church expected.
What is the significance of the resurrection-prophecies? It seems to us hard to admit that Jesus could have foretold so precisely an event of that sort. It seems much more plausible to suppose that general utterances of his about a glory that awaited him were editorially transformed ex eventu into predictions of the Resurrection.
Such criticism is in place so long as one holds the view that the prophecy of the Resurrection referred to an isolated event in the personal history of Jesus. So it appears, however, only to our modern consciousness, because we think uneschatologically even in the matter of the Resurrection. For Jesus and his Disciples, on the other hand, the [pg 202] Resurrection which he spoke about had an entirely different significance. It was a messianic event which signified the dawn of the full glory that was to come. We must eliminate from the Resurrection predicted by Jesus all modern notions suggestive of an apotheosis. The contemporary consciousness understood this “Restoration” (Acts 321) as a revelation of Jesus’ messiahship at the dawn of the Kingdom. Therefore when Jesus spoke of his resurrection the Disciples thought of the great messianic Resurrection in which he as the Messiah would be raised from the dead.
The conversation during the descent from the mountain of Transfiguration is decisive on this point. Jesus spoke then for the first time to his most intimate disciples of “the resurrection of the Son of Man from the dead” (Mk 99). They, however, were quite unable to think of “the resurrection of the Son of man” apart from the messianic Resurrection. Their attention was entirely occupied with the messianic event which Jesus’ words suggested to them. They question therefore among themselves about the Resurrection of the dead. What should that mean (Mk 910)? That is to say, the conditions thereof, so far as they can see, are not yet [pg 203] fulfilled. Elijah is not yet come (Mk 911). Jesus puts their minds at rest with the hint that Elijah had already appeared though men did not recognise him. He means the Baptist (Mk 912-13).
This conversation, in which otherwise it is impossible to detect at all any reasonable sequence of thought, becomes perfectly transparent and natural the moment it is noticed how the Disciples are unable to think of the resurrection which Jesus’ words suggest except in the same thought with the general messianic Resurrection. Therefore this talk during the descent from the mountain throws a clear light upon Jesus’ later prophecies of his Passion and Resurrection, because we are here in a position to observe the thoughts and questions which these words awaken in the hearts of the Disciples. Moreover this “resurrection prophecy” lacks the mention of the three days which furnishes precisely the occasion for the critical attitude toward the subsequent prophecies of the Passion. In this respect the prediction during the descent agrees thoroughly with the last utterance before the High Priest. Both lack the definite indication of the time when the Resurrection or the appearing upon the clouds of heaven shall take place. In the [pg 204] messianic event both correspond chronologically: resurrection and coming on the clouds signify only the revelation of Jesus’ messiahship on the great Resurrection Day.
This expectation of the eschatological Resurrection of the dead ruled the consciousness of Jesus and his contemporaries. He assumes it in his discourses at Jerusalem. Expectation of the Kingdom and belief in the approaching Resurrection of the dead belong together. It is, as we have already observed, an error in perspective to represent Jesus’ thought in regard to the coming Kingdom as directed toward the future as if it had to do with subsequent generations. So the modern mind thinks. It was just the opposite with Jesus. The Kingdom had to do with the past generations. They rise up to meet the Judgment which inaugurates the Kingdom.
The Resurrection of the dead is the condition precedent to the establishment of the Kingdom. Through it all generations of the world are lifted out of their temporal sequence and placed before God’s judgment as contemporaries. For example, such a parable even as that of the Lord’s Vineyard requires the assumption of the Resurrection of the dead (Mk 121-12). The whole history of [pg 205] Israel is there described in the conduct of the husbandmen. Jesus speaks of the generations of Israel from the days of the Prophets unto the people then present to whom his warning is addressed. The parable, however, pictures only one generation, because when it is a question of the Judgment, the whole people in its consecutive generations appears before God as one collective whole,—which means that it is raised up as a whole from the dead.
In the same way it is to be explained that the people of Sodom of a generation long gone by are assured of a more tolerable fate than the present inhabitants of Capernaum (Mt 1123-24).
Those who believed in the coming of the Kingdom believed also in the approaching Resurrection of the dead. Wherefore the attack of the Sadducees was directed precisely against this point. Jesus’ reply to them, that “when they shall rise from the dead they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels in heaven” (Mk 1225), is to be understood as descriptive of conditions in the Kingdom of heaven, into which they enter through the Resurrection from the dead.
The “Resurrection of the dead” was, in [pg 206] fine, only the mode in which the transformation of the whole form of existence was accomplished upon those who had already succumbed to death. By the coming of the Kingdom of God, however, the earthly form of existence in general must be raised to another and an incomparably higher estate. From this point of view, those also are to experience a “resurrection” who before the great Event have not succumbed to death; for by a higher power their mode of existence, too, will suddenly be transformed into another, which they will then share with those that have been awakened from death. In comparison with this new form of existence the foregoing condition is a matter of indifference. It is all one whether from our earthly existence or from the sleep of death we pass into the messianic mode of being. In comparison with the latter all being is “death.” It alone is “life.”
Wherefore, to the living, Jesus speaks of the way that leadeth unto “life” (Mt 714). He counsels men rather to part with a member of the body, when “life” is in question, than to fail of gaining through the Resurrection a part in the messianic existence (Mt 188, 9). The rich young man asks what he must do “to inherit eternal life.” Jesus [pg 207] is very sorrowful when he will not follow the counsel given him, because it is so hard for a rich man “to enter into the Kingdom of heaven” (Mk 1017, 25).
This disparagement of the earthly form of existence goes to the length of sacrificing altogether the earthly life for the sake of full assurance of life in the coming age. Hence, with the exhortation to follow him in suffering and reproach, Jesus declares that “whosoever would save his life shall lose it.” That is to say, Whosoever, through anxiety about his earthly existence, makes himself unworthy that the Son of Man intervene for him before God, forfeits thereby the messianic life which commences with the Resurrection (Mk 835).
When the Kingdom dawns it is all one whether we exist in a living or in a dead body. It is only with this persuasion that a man can meet persecution boldly. Wherefore Jesus says to the Apostles as he sends them forth: Be not afraid of them which kill the body but are not able to kill the “soul,” but fear him who hath power to destroy both “soul” and body in hell (Mt 1028).
St. Paul furnishes a classical instance of this same connection between the eschatological expectation of the early Church and [pg 208] the Resurrection of the dead (1 Cor. 1550-54). What we have here is not a specifically Pauline thought, but a primitive Christian conception to which Jesus had already given utterance. Flesh and blood, whether quick or dead, can in no wise have part in the Kingdom. Therefore when the hour strikes and the dead are raised incorruptible, the living also shall be changed, putting on incorruption and immortality.
The Resurrection of the dead is the bridge from the “Now” to the “Then.” It accounts for the duality of consciousness. Hence when Jesus spoke of his resurrection the Disciples correlated this word with the great context. It signified for them the general Resurrection in which they too would arise in the form of existence appropriate to the Kingdom of God. True, they expected his resurrection,—not, however, as the “Easter event,” but as the dawn of the messianic Kingdom. Jesus was to be revealed as the risen Christ when he should come as Son of Man upon the clouds of heaven to usher in the messianic day.
For our feeling, the death of Jesus is related to the Resurrection as a discord in music to its resolution. Owing to the disparagement of every form of existence prior [pg 209] to the messianic age, a much weaker accent, for the Disciples lay upon the death. What they conceived was an endless, eternal accord following upon a brief earthly prelude.
Where we see a juxtaposition of messianic claim, Passion prediction, and Resurrection prophecy, the Disciples perceived a much stricter connection of thought. They beheld all in a messianic light. Hence they did not draw from Jesus’ words three separate conclusions: (1) that he was the Messiah; (2) that he must suffer and die; (3) that he would rise from the dead. Rather, the impression they received was this: Our master will after his death, at the Resurrection, be revealed as the Son of Man. At the same time they question within themselves what sort of persons they then will be and what office and dignity will fall to their lot in the new existence.
It can thus be explained why their messianic conception was not completely overthrown by the notion of “the suffering and dying Messiah.” Jesus had revealed to them neither the suffering, nor the dying, nor the risen Christ; but he spoke to them of the Son of Man who was due to appear, and revealed to them that it was he who should come in that character when he had perfected himself by suffering here below.
It can never be emphasised enough that in this respect Jesus’ messiahship was completely in line with the popular conception. The tragedy of his life is not to be accounted for by the incompatibility of his notion of messiahship and the general expectation, so that only conflicts could ensue which must bring about his death. This conception first appears in the Fourth Gospel. The historical Jesus laid claim to messiahship only from the moment of the Resurrection.