Here’s where we have fun
with things: we go into the text and
separate the Judean parts from the Greco-Roman bits. It’s easier than you think. Why?
Because the Greco-Roman bits generally refer to something we found in
Philo, and the Judean bits refer either to something that comprises an
intertextual conversation or to something that has a viable historical context
as it relates to the Judean canon or to probably event in the bar Cochba
revolt.
Let’s start with one of my
favorites (and a big fave of the traditional, fundy community, but not for the
same reasons): John 3:1-16 is the
pericope usually identified as “the conversation with Nicodemus.” Properly speaking, it ends at 3:15, and 3:16
is that verse so well-loved by fundies: God so loved the world that he gave his
only Son.
In other words, if you pay
attention when you read the “conversation with Nicodemus” you note that the
conversation doesn’t end. The “God so
loved the world…” is from Philo.
In the conversation,
“Jesus” tells Nicodemus that unless one
is born again, one cannot see the kingdom of God. He also says what is born of the flesh is
flesh, and what is born of the spirit is spirit.
More Philo.
“Jesus” concludes saying “as
Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the son of man be lifted
up.
The “son of man” reference
is meant to indicate that this is an intertextual conversation between the
“Jesus” narrative and the prophets.
Except that the intertextual conversation is actually between Exekiel
and Philo.
And then the text segues
into “God so loved the world…” which is pure Philo.
We find Nicodemus appears
again in 7:50, when the “officers” are trying to find out if “Jesus” has done
anything for which he could be punished.
Nicodemus says “Does our law judge a
man without first giving him a hearing and learning what he does?” He seems to
have been converted to “Jesus’” teaching.
Finally, in 19:39, we see Nicodemus
again. Burying Jesus. Nicodemus goes to the body with “a mixture of
myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds,” and he and Joseph of Arimathea
“bound the body in linen cloths with the spices, as is the burial custom of the
Jews.”
If the text was written for a Judean
audience, it would not be necessary to note that the burial was in accordance
with the customs of the Jews. From this,
we can infer that the text was not written for a Judean audience.
What can we deduce historically from
this? Nothing at all.
We find references to Nakdimon ben
Gurion in rabbinic literature. He is
mentioned in one version of a tannaitic story (Sifre Deut. 305) concerning
Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai, as the aristocratic and wealthy father of a young
woman reduced to abject poverty and humiliation in the aftermath of the
destruction of Jerusalem. Like many figures mentioned in passing in the early
tannaitic sources, the later talmudic and post-talmudic aggadah
transmits many elaborate legends concerning his life and the dramatic events in
which he reportedly took part. According to Bavli Gittin 56a, he was one of
three celebrated wealthy men of Jerusalem during the last years of the Second
Temple. Like his affluent associates Ben Ẓiẓit ha-Kassat and Ben Kalba Savu'a,
Nakdimon studied under the rabbis and was highly regarded by Rabbi Johanan b.
Zakkai.
Legendary accounts are given of
Nakdimon’s wealth and philanthropy. On his daily journey to the house of study
(the texts of that period often confuse the house of study with the Temple), he
had the whole way covered with woolen carpets which he left lying there for the
poor to take (Bavli Ketubot 66b). Other accounts speak of his daughter's
excessive use of cosmetics (ibid.) and his daughter-in-law's expenditure
on her kitchen (Bavli Ketubot 65a). He was also regarded as a wonder-worker.
During a water shortage he borrowed 12 cisterns filled with water from a
wealthy Roman official on condition that by a certain day he would either
return the cisterns full of water or pay 12 silver talents. On the evening of
the last day of the appointed time, in answer to his prayers, rain fell and
filled the cisterns. When the Roman objected that the sun had already set and
the appointed time had passed, Nakdimon caused the sun to shine by means of his
prayer (Bavli Ta'anit 19b).
During the siege of Jerusalem, he and
his two associates promised to supply the city for 21 years with all necessary
provisions. The Zealots, however, burned all the provisions so that need would
induce the people to fight against the Romans (Bavli Gittin 56a). With the fall
of Jerusalem, Nakdimon lost all his wealth, and Johanan b. Zakkai met his
daughter (Miriam; Lamentations Rabbah 1:16) picking out barley corns from
cattle dung (Bavli Ketubot 66b; Lamentations Rabbah 1:16.). According to a talmudic tradition his proper name was
not Nakdimon but Boni (Bavli Ta'anit 20a).
What can we infer historically from
this? Nothing at all. It would seem that the constructor of the
Jesus narrative had access to the same legendary materials about Nakdimon ben
Gurion as the constructors of the rabbinic traditions did. The “Jesus” narrative pits legendary Judean
philosopher/wonder-worker against up-and-coming philosopher/wonder-worker in a
literary show-down.
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