In NTS 63 (2017), Steve Mason and Philip Esler responded to an earlier article of mine by setting out their grounds for a categorical distinction between Judaean ‘ethnic’ identity and Christ-following voluntary association and by rejecting the idea that drawing this contrast could reflect or legitimate modern notions of implicit Christian superiority. In this reply, intended to clarify the issues at stake and the grounds for disagreement, questions are first raised about various aspects of the approach to ethnicity that Mason and Esler adopt, illustrating the main points with brief examples from relevant texts and contemporary scholarship. Specifically, I consider the value of multiple rather than singular categorisations, the idea that ethnicity should be seen as multiple, fluid and hybrid in character, the relationship between ethnicity and religion, and the contrast between real and fictive kinship. Finally, I return to the issue of the ways in which scholarship may reflect its contexts of production and the need to probe this critically, offering specific illustrations of the reasons for my claims. Whether my particular suggestions concerning the implications of the dichotomy between Judaean/Jewish ethnicity and ‘trans-ethnic’ Christian identity are right or wrong, I argue for the importance of critical reflection on the impact of contemporary location on historical reconstruction.

The present article argues that rather than look for a traditional Jewish model behind Mark's passion narrative (such as an account of the Suffering Righteous One), we would do better to understand the composition of the whole gospel – both the central body of teaching in 8.22–10.45 and the passion narrative – as influenced by the genre of ancient philosophical lives. After considering ways in which biographies tended to present the deaths of philosophers, the article examines the death of the Markan Jesus as an example of a shameful, humiliating end. What redeems it for Mark is the fact that Jesus dies in perfect conformity with his teaching. The carefully composed central section of teaching material (8.22–10.52), it is argued, was put together by the evangelist with the specific intention of showing that Jesus died in accordance with his teaching. Thus the crucifixion could become the perfect embodiment of Jesus’ counter-cultural message of self-denial and servanthood, and therefore a powerful symbol of its truth.

While the Gospel of John makes some forceful and explicit claims about the identity of Jesus and the character of his mission, it also invites readers into a deepened appreciation of its claims. Part of its strategy for doing so is to exploit ambiguity and to point to what the readers do not know. The article explores three examples of this pedagogical strategy: the deliberately hidden identity of the Beloved Disciple; the initial deeds of Jesus, labelled ‘signs’, which, however, do not in any direct and obvious way ‘signify’ anything, as the later works do; and the question debated by the crowds in Jerusalem, of where Jesus is from. In each case recognition of the unknown can be the first step towards discovering Truth.

This article explores the relationships between memory, history and fiction in the Fourth Gospel. The first section is dedicated to the Johannine conception of the memory, taking into consideration recent research in the theory of social memory. The epilogue of the Gospel (John 21) considered as a paratext and the function attributed to the beloved disciple make it possible to specify the characteristics of this memory. The second section deals with the problem of the relationship between history and fiction in the context of ancient historiography. This includes observing how Johannine historiography follows the rules of ancient historiography, how it goes beyond them in its conception of space, time and characters, and how it offers a complete recomposition of the life of Jesus.

Several recent studies have argued for the importance of democratic practices and ideology for a proper understanding of the issues and debates reflected in Paul's Corinthian correspondence. This new perspective stands in tension with older scholarship which emphasised the role of patronage in the structure and dynamics of the house churches that made up the ekklēsia of Christ-believers at Corinth. This essay draws upon new research into the political sociology of Greek cities in the early Empire, which highlights evidence of the continuing vitality of democratic assemblies (ekklēsiai) in the first and second centuries, despite the limitations imposed upon local autonomy by Roman rule. Special attention is devoted to the epigraphic evidence of first-century Corinth, whose political institutions and social relations were those of a Roman colony. The essay seeks to ascertain whether the politics of the Christ groups mimicked those of the city in which they were located or represented an alternative.

This paper seeks to scrutinise the debate about the historicity of Jesus and identify aspects that merit critical reflection by New Testament scholars. Although the question is regularly dismissed, it is a salient one that was formative in the development of the discipline, and has become increasingly visible since the turn of the century. However, the terminology employed by the protagonists is problematic, and the conventional historiography of the debate misleading. The characteristic tropes evident in the contributions are also indicative of substantive issues within the discipline of New Testament studies itself.

In Jesus’ sermon at Nazareth in Luke (4.16–30), his reminder that Elijah had aided non-Jews (vv. 26–7) is met with an unusual death sentence – to throw Jesus from a cliff. This has been conceptually and geographically vexing for scholars. This paper reads the passage beside the Life of Aesop, in which the Delphians condemn the fabulist to the same fate for blasphemy (130–42). Aesop's offence, like Jesus’, is to malign the special status of the Delphians before their god. The Lukan Evangelist's use of the same manner of death for the same type of speech act indicates that the crowd at Nazareth has condemned Jesus for blasphemy.

According to UBS5 and NA28, Mark 7.3 says that Pharisees and other Jews do not eat unless they rinse their hands ‘with a fist’ (πυγμῇ). This notorious crux interpretum has resisted all efforts to give it a plausible meaning. The present article reviews these efforts and suggests that it is time to abandon this reading in favour of the variant reading πυκνά in the sense ‘repeatedly’. This translation best fits the practice described in the Mishnah and other rabbinic literature, in which devout Jews rinsed their hands twice before the meal, twice after, and often twice or more during.

Although it is widely recognised that οἱ πιστεύοντες was a self-designation of the early Christ groups, this is not reflected in scholarship on Romans and Galatians, where the participle is usually taken as a generic substantive. Such a rendering obscures the force of Paul's rhetoric, which presupposes the status of οἱ πιστεύοντες as a shared self-designation and mobilises it in an effort to naturalise Paul's claims regarding the exclusive justificatory value of his addressees’ πίστις. Accordingly, in Rom 3.22 and Gal 3.22, where οἱ πιστεύοντες appears in close connection with πίστις Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, it is unlikely that the latter phrase designates Christ's own faithfulness.

By means of a contextual analysis of Mark 12.41–4, a narrative analysis of ‘women’ in Mark and a social–historical analysis of the motif of the ‘poor widow’, this article argues that Mark 12.41–4 paves the way for Jesus’ eschatological speech (Mark 13): while the precise purpose of the widow's deposit (ritual, donation or saving) remains an open question, Jesus strengthens her dignity. Mark thus alludes to the ancient motif of respecting personae miserae and shows who Jesus is in light of God's pending judgement of Jerusalem. In its focus on the ‘widow’ motif, the analysis of Mark 12.41–4par. enriches previous studies on form- and redaction-criticism and Realgeschichte by revealing the Christological meaning of the Markan narrative.

This article interprets Paul's self-reflections in Phil 1 in light of the most current discourse about the ‘(introspective) self’ in antiquity: it is argued that Paul – in his last letter writing during his final imprisonment (in Rome?) – offers insights into his ‘inner self’ by construing the reflective mode of introspection. Similar to how ancient philosophers – such as Seneca in his letters – develop introspection when dealing/coping with the expectatio mortis, Paul too, in Phil 1–3, has to respond to his expectation of his pending death. While Phil 1.21–6 – which is to be read in the frame of chapters 1–3 – reflects Paul's situation highly individually and autobiographically, ancient philosophical introspective speaking modes in general tend to remain generic. In its ‘autobiographical consolidation’ Phil 1.21–6 is also to be seen in a ‘contrastive analogy’ to Rom 7.

In the Gospel of John, the apostles Andrew and Philip enjoy a privileged position right from the beginning. The reason seems to lie in the fact that they, being from Bethsaida in Galilee and probably fluent in Greek, could serve as intermediaries between ‘Greeks’ and Jesus, whom they wanted to ‘see’. Such an encounter happens in John 12.20–2. According to John, Jesus called Andrew before his brother Peter, whom Andrew then led to Jesus. Philip is the second person directly called by Jesus, himself leading another future disciple to Jesus: Nathanael (John 1.35–46). James and John are completely missing not only in the Johannine scene of the calling of disciples but also in the whole of the Fourth Gospel. The importance of Andrew and Philip follows also from the rest of the Gospel of John. The evangelist seems to depend on an early tradition attested in Asia Minor and to modify the synoptic tradition on its basis.

This article examines Paul's use of scriptural allusion in 1 Cor 11.7–12, highlighting underappreciated echoes of Zerubbabel's discourse in 1 Esdras 4.13–41. Paul puts Genesis 1, Genesis 2 and 1 Esdras 4 into conversation to support what may strike many today as a tension-fraught position. He assumes a patriarchal gender hierarchy (1 Cor 11.7–9) but also affirms woman's ‘authority’ over her head, albeit tendentiously (11.10). Rather than resolving the resulting tension, Paul uses additional, counterbalancing allusions to redirect attention away from the question of status, towards recognition of interdependence ‘in the Lord’ and shared origin in God (11.11–12).

This article explores the origins of the conjectural emendation on 1 Cor 14.33b–35, first made in 1863 by Jan Willem Straatman. It shows that Straatman attributes the instruction on women's silence to Jewish influence and bases his view on a reconstruction of early Christianity in which Paul and his Gentile message were opposed by Jewish adversaries. This anti-Jewish tendency persisted in subsequent scholarship and has continued to characterise the understanding of this passage into the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

The debate over the translation of μαλακοί and ἀρσενοκοῖται in 1 Cor 6.9 can and should be settled by a non-polemical and complete survey of the material now that comprehensive databases of ancient texts are available. The translation of ἀρσενοκοῖται by Tertullian, several Vetus Latina MSS and the Vulgate has the best evidential foundation. To establish the meaning of this term one has to turn to etymology and usage, a semantic domain of terms for sexual intercourse, and patristic and classical texts. Once the semantics of ἀρσενοκοίτης is better grounded, the ancient Latin translation of μαλακοί becomes the most probable.

This article focuses on the theological justification of the mission to the nations in the Gospel of Matthew. As a starting point, debates pro and contra are supposed in the community. The argument then takes two directions. The prophetic announcement concerning the eschatological salvation of the nations with special regard to the pilgrimage to Zion is assumed as a background for Matt 28.16–20 against the majority reference to Dan 7.13–14. Against the view that the Son of God is the christological category on which Matthew justifies the mission to the nations, the ecclesiological significance of this title is emphasised here. The title Son of God does indeed play a role in the mission, not, however, as an argumentative tool, but as the core content of the own group culture that is transmitted through mission. The eschatological horizon forms the justification of both the Israel and the nations’ mission. Finally, the question is asked whether the ideological support of the mission to the nations can be understood in the context of a generation change in the community.

This article challenges Mark Goodacre's contention that the distribution of editorial fatigue in Matthew and Luke points not only to Markan priority but also to Luke's dependence on Matthew. Goodacre's argument is criticised through questioning the assumptions that Matthew's handling of Q would have been analogous to his handling of Mark and to Luke's handling of Q, as well as the claim that no instances of editorial fatigue can be detected in Matthew's handling of the double tradition. The conclusion is that the argument from editorial fatigue cannot be used to establish that the existence of Q is improbable.

Paul and Timothy are almost inseparable. The letters to Philemon and the Philippians are addressed from both Paul and Timothy and appear to be sent from prison. This makes most sense if both are in prison, especially given the risk inherent in naming an accomplice who remains free. And when Paul is in prison, Timothy is not sent anywhere. Could it be that Timothy was in prison alongside Paul? The personal tone and content of both letters nonetheless reflect concern only for Paul, what he has done and what will happen to him. No one cares about Timothy, so Timothy is probably not in prison.

The Gospel of Peter (GP), often claimed to be theologically unsophisticated, offers a theological reflection upon the saving work of the Lord in his resurrection. GP receives the synoptic tradition, which itself has no narration of the resurrection (but only narrations of ‘appearances’), and fills in this lacuna. The narration of the resurrection is patterned upon GP's narration of the crucifixion, thereby suggesting that the resurrection and the crucifixion are two coordinated salvific events. GP's reception of the synoptic tradition is thus not only apologetic or polemical, but also theological.

This article problematises the widespread assumption that the God of early Christianity is an invisible God. This assumption is found in both popular and academic discourse and often appeals to biblical critiques of divine images to make its case. Yet while Hebrew Bible scholars have recently questioned this axiomatic belief, New Testament scholars have yet to do the same. To address this oversight, this article first looks at divine images and idol polemic in the ancient world and then turns to Luke's depiction of divine images in the book of Acts as a test case. Here I demonstrate how Acts depicts God as a visible – and even embodied – being, while at the same time critiquing visual representations of the divine. With Acts, we find that not all Christians ‘imaged’ God as invisible.