Every week, I lead a small group of ministry leaders and
soon-to-be ministry leaders in a seminary-like dosage of biblical
interpretation and its many facets. This last week a number of interesting
points concerning the nature of the Gospels in relation to the historical Jesus
dominated our conversation. Over the course of the class, I have taught the
students how to read the Gospels as literary works. Each section/book of the
Bible should be read according to the genre it purports to be. We do this with all other literature we read as well. For example,
when you read, “Once upon a time,” your mind immediately evokes images of
fairytale. Perhaps, you will expect to see dazzling unicorns, magical fairies, or leprechauns.
However, this would not be the case if you were to read, “On January 8th
four people were killed when…” It is genre that dictates how we understand and
read texts (more on this in upcoming posts)—we enter into a type of “contract” with the text and should remain
faithful to its terms. This makes understanding genre quite important for
studying the Bible.
Rarely do we probe the question of genre in relation to
the Bible, and especially the Gospels. We simply assume that each book
in the Bible functions as the one next to it. In this way, people end up reading the Gospels
in the same way as the Apostle Paul’s letters (or God forbid, like they would
Revelation). Notice, even here I call Paul’s writings “letters” while the Evangelists
(Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) are called “Gospels.” Many of us assume that the
Gospels are like Paul’s writings, at times, in that they objectively record historical data. However, as I understand it,
the Gospels are best represented as ancient Bios (from where we draw the term biography). Imagine then that you
walked into a Barnes and Nobles in the ancient Roman world and were looking for
the story of Jesus. Where would it be found? It would likely be placed under the
“Bios” section; you know, right next
to those other Bios about Emperor Caesar and Oprah (I think she might be eternal). 
Ancient biographies were quite unlike modern ones in which
the recording of dates, places, source evidence, chronological order, and
psychological insight were unimportant. Instead, ancient biographies placed
importance on the subject’s character, philosophy of life, and opportunities of
emulation. Further, a heavy emphasis was placed on the death of the subject (this
is, for example, why the Gospels give little detail concerning Jesus’ birth,
but much detail in his death), and the subject’s subsequent legacy. For these
reasons, the Gospels tend to look more like modern narrative fiction than hard-lined
historical reporting. However, this is not to cast a doubt on the historical
reliability of the Gospels. Instead, we recognize that the authors of the
Gospels practiced the art of storytelling. In many instances, we see their
ability to interweave storylines with irony, symbolism, comedy, retrospection,
riddles, and characterization. Each Gospel provides their own storyline
consistent with their perspective and purpose in view. Notice, for example, how
some storylines in the Gospels are not in chronological order. Whereas in Luke,
Jesus’ Nazareth preaching (Lk 4:16-30) is the inauguration of his ministry; Mark
(Mk 6:1-6a) and Matthew (Mt 13:53-58) present the narrative far into the
storyline after establishing Jesus’ ministry. For those who consider the
Gospels objectively historical will find problems with the stories not
following chronological order. However, ancient biographies are more concerned
with painting a fruitful image of the subject through narrative than mere
chronological order. One further example may help. Consider Mark’s story of the
Syrophoenician woman and Matthew’s story of the Canaanite woman (See below):
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Mark 7:24-30
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Matthew 15:21-28
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24 From there he set out and went away to
the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know
he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, 25 but a woman
whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about
him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. 26 Now
the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him
to cast the demon out of her daughter. 27 He said to her,
“Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s
food and throw it to the dogs.” 28 But she answered him, “Sir,
even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 29 Then
he said to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your
daughter.” 30 So she went home, found the child lying on the
bed, and the demon gone.
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21 Jesus left that place and went away to
the district of Tyre and Sidon. 22 Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came
out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my
daughter is tormented by a demon.” 23 But he did not
answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her
away, for she keeps shouting after us.” 24 He answered, “I
was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” 25 But
she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” 26 He
answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the
dogs.” 27 She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the
crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” 28 Then
Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as
you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.
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The similarities
in this story are too many to deny their shared history—some have explained
away the differences by claiming these are two distinctive stories.
Importantly, I wanted to point out (sections in BOLD) how in the Markan story he makes the point to show the woman
is not only Syrophoenician, but was a “Gentile.” This slight note serves Mark’s
story well as he had previously attested to Jesus’ Gentile mission beginning at
Mark 5:1-20. Because Mark’s audience (whom I place in Rome) is likely comprised
mostly of Gentiles (non-Jewish), such a story would have been comforting in
regards to the place of Gentiles in the early church—they too can have “great
faith.” Many scholars agree that Mark’s Gospel was likely written first, and
Matthew and Luke’s account draw much of their information from him—adding and
subtracting those parts of the story that are not pertinent to their storyline.
In the particular case of Matthew 15, the Syrophoenician Gentile of Mark’s
story is revised to read “Canaanite woman.” Why would Matthew make such a
blatant shift of “facts?” Is he lying? Certainly not! For Matthew’s ancient
biography is better served by positing a historically notable enemy of Israel
(the intended audience of Matthew), namely the Canaanites—he does this to
strongly contrast the people of God (Israel) with her notorious enemy.
Matthew’s character would provide the shock value needed to make the “great
faith” of this woman scandalous to listening Jews. The purpose of Mark and
Matthew for accommodation to their audiences differs. Each of the writers is
attempting to retell the story of Jesus as it serves their communities. Unlike
modern history, which has the tools of video cameras and cell phones, ancient
history relied solely upon eyewitness testimony and oral traditions. The
biographer had the freedom as well as different standards in defining what it
meant to record the “historical” Bios
of Jesus. These minor alterations are completely acceptable when we understand
the genre of ancient biography. As to the story above, what we do not miss is
the full thrust of the narrative, which shares about the possibility of great
faith and inclusion from any ethnic corner, including ourselves (“Gentiles” in
Mark) or our greatest enemies (“Canaanites” in Matthew). Furthermore, we get
the portrait of Jesus, the one who breaks down the cultural barriers setup by
his own traditional heritage, as told through two different lenses.
The Gospels are to be read as an amalgam of theology,
history, story, and literature. The Gospel writers believed they were writing
accurate portraits of the “historical” (as they understand this terminology) Jesus,
as they understood him. It is important that these texts we believe to be
“inspired” (I will deal with this in a later post and how it applies to our
current topic) by God remain in their crafted state. In this sense, Christians
believe God had some doing in allowing ancient biography to be the form
preferred for writing the Gospels. Therefore, we should refrain from attempting
to turn the Gospels into something they are not—a modern historical
biography—and allow the texts, as they are, to speak for themselves. If ancient
Christians found this historically reliable enough to paint a profitable image
of Jesus for personal and corporate worship, should we not as well?
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