Sobre o nascimento e o nome de Jesus de Nazaré

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Sobre el nacimiento y nombre de Jesús de Nazaret

¿Nombre?
Yeshua bar Yosef.
¿Fecha y lugar de nacimiento?
….

¿Que habría respondido Jesús, ya de adulto, si un soldado romano, quizás para cumplimentar un censo, le hubiera hecho estas preguntas? Para la tradición cristiana, las respuestas son obvias. Jesús nació en Belén el 25 de diciembre del año 1 a. C., apenas seis días antes de que comenzara el año 1 de nuestra era.

Vayamos por partes. Para el mundo actual, se trata de Jesús de Nazaret o Jesucristo. Sin embargo, todas estas denominaciones son fruto de la tradición cristiana. Jesús es la versión griega del nombre original hebreo, Yeshua. Jesucristo supone la fusión de dos conceptos, el nombre propio y el de la palabra griega jristós, “ungido”, traducción a su vez del hebreo meshiah, que designaba al heredero al trono de Israel, que era ungido con aceite sobre su cabeza como forma de coronación. Por su parte, Jesús de Nazaret indica el lugar de residencia o nacimiento (ya lo veremos), quizás incluso una especie de apodo si, en lugar de Nazaret, se entiende como Nazareno, Nazireo, Nazir, aquel que se consagraba a Dios mediante un voto personal y se comprometía a no cortarse el cabello, y a no consumir licor ni alimentos impuros, tal como se describe en Jueces 13, 4-7 a propósito de Sansón. Sin embargo, ninguna de estas formas refleja el modo habitual de nombrar a alguien en la Judea del siglo primero. Lo normal es que fuese conocido como Yeshua bar Yosef (Jesús, hijo de José) en su forma aramea (bar en lugar del hebreo ben), pues el arameo era la lengua que se hablaba en aquel tiempo, mientras que el hebreo había quedado como lengua litúrgica, de un modo similar al latín en el mundo católico actual.

¿Cuán nació Yeshua bar Yosef? Contamos como fuentes de información con los relatos de los dos Evangelios de la Infancia, el de Mateo (capítulos 1 y 2) y el de Lucas (Capítulos 1 al 3), y en ellos se nos ofrecen dos anclajes cronológicos: el primero, en Lucas 1, 5 y Mateo 2, 1, que Jesús nació en tiempos del rey Herodes el Grande (40-4 a. C.), y el segundo, en Lucas 2, 1-2, que coincidió con el censo que, en tiempos de Augusto, Quirino llevó a cabo en la provincia romana de Siria, y del que también tenemos noticias por Flavio Josefo, quien tanto en sus Antigüedades de los judíos XVII, 355 y XVIII 1.2.26.102, como en su Guerra Judía VII, 253, se refiere a él y destaca su carácter novedoso y sin precedentes. El problema es que Quirino solo fue gobernador de la provincia de Siria (que en ese momento ya incluía Judea) en el año 6 de nuestra era. Así pues, las dos noticias son irreconciliables desde un punto de vista cronológico.

Sin embargo, la mención de este censo puede explicarse como un recurso de Lucas para explicar por qué José y María hubieron de marchar desde su lugar de residencia en Galilea hasta Belén, todo ello para hacer que se cumpla la profecía del nacimiento del Mesías en la ciudad natal del rey David (véase más abajo). Además, esta fecha se contradice igualmente con otro dato que nos ofrece el mismo evangelista, a saber, que Jesús tenía unos treinta años cuando comenzó su predicación (Lucas 3, 23). Asumiendo que su predicación duró unos tres años, y que fue crucificado siendo gobernador de Judea Poncio Pilato (26-36 d.C.), deberemos situar su nacimiento entre los años 7 a.C. y 3 d.C., lo que, en las fechas más bajas nos sitúa en el reinado de Herodes pero en ningún caso lo ponen en relación con el censo de Quirino.

Pese al relato del milagroso nacimiento en Belén que podemos leer en Mateo y Lucas, lo más probable es que se trate de una elaboración literaria para identificar a Jesús con el Mesías anunciado en el Antiguo Testamento. De hecho, así lo indica el evangelista Mateo, que no pierde la ocasión de señalar que, con el nacimiento de Jesús en Belén, se cumplen las palabras del profeta Miqueas 5, 1:

“Pero tú, Belén de Efratah, aunque pequeña para figurar en los clanes de Judá, de ti me saldrá quien ha de ser dominador de Israel, cuyo origen viene de antaño, desde los días antiguos”.

Más allá de estos versículos, a nadie se le escapaba que Belén había sido la cuna del rey David y que, por lo tanto, resultaría lógico que también naciese en esa ciudad el Mesías, descendiente de David y en el que se encarnaba la promesa hecha al rey en 2Samuel 7, 12-16: “cuando tu vida llegue a su fin y vayas a descansar entre tus antepasados, yo pondré en el trono a uno de tus propios descendientes, y afirmaré su reino. Será él quien construya una casa en mi honor, y yo afirmaré su trono real para siempre. Yo seré su padre, y él será mi hijo. Así que, cuando haga lo malo, lo castigaré con varas y azotes, como lo haría un padre. Sin embargo, no le negaré mi amor, como se lo negué a Saúl, a quien abandoné para abrirte paso. Tu casa y tu reino durarán para siempre delante de mí; tu trono quedará establecido para siempre”.

Pero no sólo el lugar de nacimiento es fruto de la necesidad de situar a Jesús dentro del esquema del esperado Mesías, sino que hay otros elementos de la historia que cumplen esta misma función. Cuando los magos de Oriente se presentan ante Herodes para preguntarle por el recién nacido, el rey, asustado ante la posibilidad de perder su trono, ordena el asesinato de todos los niños menores de dos años de Belén. Resulta sorprendente que Flavio Josefo, enemigo acérrimo de Herodes el Grande, no consigne este hecho en su Guerra de los Judíos, cuando puso el mayor empeño en citar, uno por uno, todos los crímenes imputables al monarca idumeo. ¿Cómo se explica pasar por alto semejante masacre, la prueba concluyente de la abyección de Herodes? Sencillamente, porque nunca sucedió. Hay que hacer notar la similitud entre este episodio y otro del Antiguo Testamento, en Éxodo 1, sobre el nacimiento de Moisés, donde el faraón ordena la muerte de todos los niños hebreos de su reino. El propósito de esta narración es doble. Por una parte, al atribuir el crimen a Herodes, se proporciona un marco histórico adecuado y creíble a la profecía deJesus, em esboço de Joan Taylor,  What Did Jesus Look Like?  London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2018, p. 192 (Figure 76) Jeremías 31, 15:

Una voz se oyó en Ramá,
Un llanto y un gran lamento:
Raquel llorando a sus hijos
¡Y no quería consolarse, porque ya no existen!

Este versículo, trasladado al Nuevo Testamento, identifica a Raquel con el pueblo de Belén, donde se encuentra su tumba. Y así, los hijos de Raquel son los niños asesinados en Belén por orden de Herodes.

Por otro lado, dentro de este relato, Jesús sufre una persecución que es típica de aquellos niños llamados a cumplir una misión fuera del alcance del común de los humanos. Es un peligro que no sólo amenaza a Moisés, sino también a Rómulo y Remo o Ciro, entre otros. De este modo, el lector del Nuevo Testamento, fuese judío o gentil, vería claro desde el principio que el protagonista del relato que estaba leyendo era un personaje fuera de lo común, alguien que encajaba en el prototipo de héroe nacional o mitológico. Pero la identificación va más allá. A ningún lector del siglo primero se le pasaría por alto la similitud ya mencionada entre la matanza de los inocentes y la del faraón en tiempos de Moisés. Hay que recordar que Moisés es el encargado de recibir la Ley de Dios en el monte Sinaí, y que Jesús es el encargado de darla por superada en su Sermón de la Montaña. Así pues, el relato de Mateo presentaba a Jesús como el nuevo Moisés, llamado a superar al primero.

Fuera de estas menciones en los llamados Evangelios de la Infancia de Mateo y Lucas, todos los indicios del resto de textos evangélicos apuntan en otra dirección diferente a Belén: Jesús nació probablemente en Galilea, unos trescientos kilómetros al norte de Jerusalén y de la propia ciudad natal de David. En numerosas ocasiones recibe el nombre de Iesous ho nazarenos o ho Nazoraios, lo que, para algunos, significa que era natural de Nazaret, en Galilea, que se suele citar como patria de Jesús y su familia (“y llegó a Nazaret, donde se había criado”, Lc 4, 16, aunque nótese que no dice que naciese allí).

En la época que nos ocupa, Nazaret era un lugar tan ínfimo que a duras penas obtendría la consideración de pueblo. Las excavaciones arqueológicas han revelado poco más que algunas grutas donde vivirían en condiciones muy precarias una pocas familias. Al contemplarlas, no podemos sino recordar la incredulidad de Natanel cuando le cuentan que han encontrado a aquél del que había escrito Moisés en la ley y los profetas: “Jesús, hijo de José, el de Nazaret”, y Natanel pregunta sorprendido: “¿De Nazaret puede haber algo bueno?” (Juan 1, 46).

Sin embargo, aunque no exista ninguna prueba que lo confirme, creo que no debería descartarse la posibilidad de que Jesús naciese en Cafarnaún, un pueblo de cierta importancia situado en la orilla norte del Mar de Galilea, y en cuyos alrededores se desarrolla la acción de la mayoría de los episodios del comienzo de la predicación de Jesús. Por ejemplo, Jesús enseña en la sinagoga de Cafarnaún, y cerca de allí tiene lugar el milagro de la multiplicación de los panes y los peces, la curación de la suegra de Pedro, la vocación de los discípulos, la tempestad calmada, etc. De hecho, sus primeros discípulos son todos originarios de Cafarnaún o de la vecina Betsaida.

Sea Nazaret o Cafarnaún el pueblo natal, Jesús procedería de Galilea, una región situada al norte del actual Israel en la que se daba una enorme mezcla de población, por lo que los judíos más ortodoxos la consideraban pagana (de ahí su nombre de Galilea de los gentiles, es decir, de los no judíos). Además, Galilea tenía fama de estar habitada por gente con gran sentido de la independencia y difícil de gobernar, y allí habían surgido, y surgirían en el futuro, numerosos movimientos revolucionarios de liberación.

Volviendo a la pregunta inicial, y teniendo en cuenta la información (a veces contradictoria, y casi nunca con verdadera intención historiográfica, sino más bien teológica) que nos ofrecen los evangelios, creo que si Jesús hubiera tenido que responder al soldado romano de nuestra escena imaginaria, habría respondido lo siguiente:

¿Nombre?
Yeshua bar Yosef.
¿Fecha de nacimiento?
Aproximadamente en el año 3753 desde la creación del mundo, que fue el trigésimo tercer año de reinado de Herodes en Judea, y también el vigésimo año del imperio del emperador Octaviano Augusto en Roma (7 a. C.)
¿Lugar de nacimiento?
Nazaret, Galilea.

Autor
Javier Alonso López – Licenciado en Filología Semítica (hebreo y arameo), DEA en Historia Antigua y Máster en lenguas y culturas del Oriente Próximo Antiguo, todo por la Universidad Complutense de Madrid. Profesor de la IE University, autor de varios libros sobre religiones e historia, en especial sobre judaísmo y mundo cristiano primitivo.

Fonte: Mediterráneo Antiguo – 23 diciembre, 2015

A ressurreição de Jesus segundo seus primeiros seguidores

O artigo

The Logic of Jesus’ Resurrection – By Bruce Chilton – The Bible and Interpretation: October 2019

A apresentação convencional da ressurreição [túmulo vazio] tornou-se tão comum que precisa ser mencionada para ser deixada de lado, porque se opõe ao fato de que “o túmulo vazio” é uma tradição tardia entre as várias tradições sobre como Deus ressuscitou Jesus dos mortos. Segundo os textos do Novo Testamento, a ressurreição foi concebida como corpórea pelos discípulos de Jesus, mas eles afirmaram isto de modos diferentes e nem sempre conceberam seu corpo de maneira física.

The conventional presentation [empty tomb] has become so prevalent that it needs to be mentioned in order to be set aside because it flies in the face of the fact that “the empty tomb” is a latecomer to the traditions regarding how God raised Jesus from the dead. The resurrection was conceived of as bodily by Jesus’ disciples, but they did not all assert a single origin story, nor did they always conceive of his body in a physical way.

O livro

CHILTON, B. D. Resurrection Logic: How Jesus’ First Followers Believed God Raised Him from the Dead. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2019, 319 p. – ISBN 9781481310635.

Bruce ChiltonCHILTON, B. D. Resurrection Logic: How Jesus' First Followers Believed God Raised Him from the Dead. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2019 investigates the Easter event of Jesus in Resurrection Logic. He undertakes his close reading of the New Testament texts without privileging the exact nature of the resurrection, but rather begins by situating his study of the resurrection in the context of Sumerian, Egyptian, Greek, and Syrian conceptions of the afterlife. He then identifies Jewish monotheistic affirmations of bodily resurrection in the Second Temple period as the most immediate context for early Christian claims. Chilton surveys first-generation accounts of Jesus’ resurrection and finds a pluriform–and even at times seemingly contradictory–range of testimony from Jesus’ first followers. This diversity, as Chilton demonstrates, prompted early Christianity to interpret the resurrection traditions by means of prophecy and coordinated narrative. In the end, Chilton points to how the differing conceptions of the ways that God governs the world produced distinct understandings–or “sciences”–of the Easter event. Each understanding contained its own internal logic, which contributed to the collective witness of the early church handed down through the canonical text. In doing so, Chilton reveals the full tapestry of perspectives held together by the common-thread confession of Jesus’ ongoing life and victory over death.

O que era, afinal, um profeta em Israel?

Algumas considerações incômodas nos colocam um desafio.

Considerando que:

. os livros redigidos sob o nome dos profetas podem conter apenas algumas poucas palavras proféticas reais

. a reconstrução da tradição oral a partir de textos literários pode não ser de fato confiável

. a imagem de um profeta nos textos deuteronomistas difere bastante da imagem presente nos textos do cronista

. o título “profeta” pode ser um título ex post factum [atribuído posteriormente]

. a distinção entre profetas verdadeiros e falsos só pode ser possível ex eventu [depois dos acontecimentos]

. a designação dos profetas clássicos como profetas verdadeiros pode ser atribuída aos editores deuteronomistas e não à consciência profética como tal

Pergunta-se:

O que era, então, um profeta em Israel?

 

A estas considerações, outras podem ser acrescentadas, como:

. os profetas ocupavam algum cargo na sociedade?

. como devem ser avaliadas as palavras proféticas sobre questões sociais, econômicas e políticas?

. qual foi o verdadeiro papel dessas figuras na formação da religião israelita?

. em que sentido eles devem ser considerados únicos?

. podemos realmente falar de círculos proféticos e de discípulos de um profeta se o locus classicus para essas suposições não é genuíno?

. por que os redatores deuteronomistas, cuja teologia é tão citada para corroborar palavras proféticas, se calam sobre profetas como Amós, Oseias e Miqueias?

Essas questões históricas não podem ser respondidas efetivamente, a menos que se tenha uma ideia clara das sociedades em que os profetas viveram e nas quais os textos proféticos foram produzidos. Mas o modelo histórico-crítico dominante não pode realmente fornecer as respostas para essas perguntas, porque não possui as ferramentas necessárias para tal.

Talvez seja por essa razão que uma fuga pelos fundos, e não uma saída pela porta da frente, tenha sido aplicada ao problema.

Ou seja, os estudiosos tenderam a fugir do problema socioantropológico, concentrando-se cada vez mais no produto acabado, no texto final, no texto canônico, alegando ser impossível chegar ao profeta real para além dos livros proféticos existentes.

 

Outras questões precisam ser colocadas para que as anteriores possam ser respondidas.

Questões que têm a ver com as forças sociais que produziram as pessoas que mais tarde ficaram conhecidas como profetas e com a natureza ideológica de seus pronunciamentos.

Como:

. como era a sociedade israelita dos séculos 8, 7 e 6?

. qual modelo social descreveria melhor as estruturas sociais dessa época?

. quais eram as condições materiais das pessoas que viviam naquela época?

. o que exatamente levava um profeta a realizar uma intervenção?

. quem era o público dos profetas?

. de quais camadas sociais vinham os profetas?

. havia alguma instituição social que poderia ser classificada como profética?

. quais eram as bases ideológicas dos profetas e da profecia?

. quem foram os redatores e leitores dos livros proféticos?

Como estas perguntas estão voltadas para o estudo das estruturas sociais daquele tempo, os modelos socioantropológicos são os mais adequados para a pesquisa do mundo profético, dos profetas e dos livros proféticos.

 

p. 11-13:

For instance, if the texts published under the prophets’ names contain very few real »prophetic words«, if the reconstruction of »oral tradition« from literary texts is not really reliable, if the picture of a »prophet« in Deuteronomistic texts differs fairly substantially from that in Chronistic texts, if »prophet« really is an ex post factum title, if the distinction between »true« and »false« prophets was only possible ex eventu and if the designation of the »classical prophets« as »true prophets« is to be ascribed toFRITZ, V. et al. (eds.) Prophet und Prophetenbuch: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 65. Geburtstag. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, [1989] 2012 Deuteronomistic editors and not to prophetic consciousness as such, what then was a prophet? Did the »prophets« occupy any office in society? How are the »prophetic words« regarding social, economic and political issues to be evaluated? What was the real role of those figures in the shaping of Israelite religion? In what sense are they to be regarded as unique«? And can we really speak of »prophetic circles« and of a prophet’s »disciples« if the locus classicus for these assumptions is not »genuine«? Why would the Deuteronomists, whose theology so extensively »called in« corroborating prophetic words, keep silent about prophets like Amos, Hosea and Micah?

These historical questions cannot be answered effectively unless one has a clear idea of the societies in which the »prophets« lived and in which the prophetic texts had been produced. But the dominant model cannot really supply the answers to such questions, because it does not look at a phenomenon (such as prophecy) or at a text from the side of social realities. Even the concept of Sitz im Leben has far too narrow a scope to answer these questions.

It is perhaps for this reason that lateral, rather than vertical thought has been applied to the problem, that is, scholars tended to »side-step« the (socio-anthropological) problem by focussing more and more on the finished product, the »final/canonical text«. 42 The clearer it became that these questions threatened to invalidate the model of rationality the more that kind of question was made suspicious or labeled »unanswerable«. Perhaps these questions cannot be answered adequately by merely (or even primarily) focussing on the texts. Research in, for instance, the growth of the text of the Septuagint showed that the concept »final/canonical text« is a very problematic one, 43 and that one needs to have some idea of the religious communities in which texts were being edited to get a clearer picture of the processes involved in textual production. An »escape« into the »final« or »canonical text« thus neither enables us to answer the questions thrown up by the dominant model itself, nor to answer the question of prophetic authority.

Another pressing question is this: Given the fact that the prophets and their message have over decades been reinterpreted within, and therefore familiarized with, the framework of the typically Western thought categories of the dominant model, can their words and actions really still challenge the Western World?

p. 14-16:

What did the Israelite society of the 8th, 7th and 6th century look like? What societal model would best describe those societies? What were the material conditions under which people had to live? W h a t exactly prompted prophets to speak out? W h o made up their audiences? From which »layer« of society did they come? Was there a social institution such as »prophet«? If so, where did this office fit into the structure of society? If not, who were these prophets? What was the prophet’s position with regard to socio-economic and political hegemony/oppression/ideology, i.e. what made up their ideology? If they really were people from the »middle classes« who could read and write, can they then be viewed as »liberators« and »champions of the poor«? Or is such a view merely suggested to usby the liberal values of modern readers? W h o were the readers/makers of the »prophetic books«? Why were these figures pictured so differently by the Deuteronomists and the Chronist? Is there any ideological reason for this difference? W h o were »the Deuteronomists« and who was »the Chronist« and what were their respective positions in society? These questions have to do with the societal forces that “produced« the people who later became known as »prophets« and with the ideological nature of their pronouncements.

These questions also prompt other, critical, questions regarding the accepted view of Old Testament prophets. For instance: Was “prophecy« really a »unique« phenomenon? Was the prophets’ main concern really with theoretical religious issues such as monotheism, 58 and concepts such as the covenant? What are the social referents of words like justice, righteousness, sin, iniquity, etc. in the mouth of a prophet like Amos, or Isaiah, or Jeremiah?

Since the concern of these questions is with the relevant societies and (changing) societal structures of Old Testament times and with the everyday socio-economic life of those days, another strategy is called for to answer them. And the necessary strategies are being supplied by sociological and anthropological models.

Trechos de DEIST, F. E. The prophets: are we heading for a paradigm switch? In: FRITZ, V. et al. (eds.) Prophet und Prophetenbuch: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 65. Geburtstag. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, [1989] 2012, p. 1-18.

Ferdinand E. Deist (1944–1997) foi professor na Universidade da África do Sul (UNISA) e na Universidade de Stellenbosch, África do Sul.

Seis definições possíveis para os profetas de Israel

Esta é uma tipologia proposta por David L. Petersen no ano 2000.

Os estudiosos da Bíblia, tanto no presente quanto no passado, criaram definições diferentes do que significa ser profeta. Aqui ofereço seis definições possíveis, usadas pelos estudiosos ao longo do século XX, que podem ajudar a preparar o cenário para uma nova era de estudos da literatura profética.

1. O profeta como alguém que tem uma intensa experiência do divino – O êxtase, como experiência pessoal dos profetas

2. O profeta fala ou escreve de maneira peculiar – A poesia é a marca característica da literatura profética

3. O profeta atua em um ambiente social específico – Os profetas seriam funcionários do culto

4. O profeta como portador de qualidades específicas como, por exemplo, o carisma – O profeta como carismático, em oposição ao sacerdócio que é institucional

5. O profeta como intermediário – Fenômeno que pode ser observado em outras culturas do Antigo Oriente Médio

6. O profeta como porta-voz uma mensagem específica – O profeta como campeão de uma rigorosa ética javista, porta-voz de uma mensagem de denúncia e anúncio

Essas são as principais opções-definições que se concentram na experiência religiosa, literatura característica, cenário social, carisma pessoal, papel do profeta como intermediário e mensagem específica. Contudo, apenas uma dessas tipologias, a noção de profeta como intermediário, parece abrangente o suficiente para ajudar a entender os profetas do Antigo Oriente Médio, incluindo aqueles atestados na Bíblia Hebraica e nos antigos textos babilônicos e neo-assírios.

 

Biblical scholars, both present and past have created different definitions of what it means to be a prophet. At the outset, I offer a six-fold typology of definitions that might help set the stage for a new period of studies in prophecy and prophetic literature.

1. The prophet has an intense experience of the deity – The rubric encompasses the analogy of ‘ecstatics’, an analogy that focuses on the psychology and personal  NISSINEN, M. (ed.) Prophecy in its Ancient Near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical, and Arabian Perspectives. Atlanta: SBL, 2000experiences of the prophets.

2. The prophet speaks or write in a distinctive way – Under this rubric falls the analogy of ‘poets’. This model emphasized the poetic nature of the prophetic literature.

3. The prophet acts in a particular social setting – This statement encompasses the model of ‘cultic functionaries’ for Israelite prophets.

4. The prophet possesses distinctive personal qualities, for example, charisma – Weber for instance, saw prophets as individuals who had an extraordinary power and authority that attracted loyal bands of followers. They exercised this authority by working predominantly outside of and in opposition to traditional institutions.

5. The prophet is an intermediary – Israelite prophecy as part of an observable occurrence (‘phenomenon’) shared widely throughout the ancient world and marked by some general practices, functions, and social dynamics.

6. The prophet has a distinctive message – Morality as the defining characteristic of prophetic religion and preaching. In this view, the Israelite prophets were bold champions of ethical religious practices, and stressed the individual and internal elements of religious experience.

These then are the primary options-definitions that focus on religious experience, distinctive literature, social setting, personal charisma, the prophet’s role as intermediary, and distinctive message. However, only one of these typologies, the notion of prophet as intermediary, seems comprehensive enough to help understand prophets throughout the ancient Near East, including those attested in the Hebrew Bible and in the Old Babylonian and Neo-Assyrian texts.

Cf. PETERSEN, D. L. Defining Prophecy and Prophetic Literature. In: NISSINEN, M. (ed.) Prophecy in its Ancient Near Eastern Context: Mesopotamian, Biblical, and Arabian Perspectives. Atlanta: SBL, 2000, p. 33-39. Disponível online.

Atire a primeira pedra: o caso da mulher adúltera em João

A perícope da adúltera (em latim: pericope adulterae) está em Jo 7,53-8,11. Mas muitos estudiosos pensam que o relato não faz parte do texto original do evangelho de João.

O livro To Cast the First Stone: The Transmission of a Gospel Story apresenta os resultados de mais de dez anos de pesquisa na história de transmissão e recepção da perícope da adúltera por Jennifer Knust, professora de Estudos Religiosos na Universidade Duke, USA, e Tommy Wasserman, professor de Estudos Bíblicos da Ansgar Teologiske Høgskole, Noruega.

A obra é composta de uma introdução, quatro seções contendo oito capítulos e algumas reflexões finais.

KNUST, J. ; WASSERMAN, T. To Cast the First Stone: The Transmission of a Gospel Story. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019, 464 p. – ISBN 9780691169880.

The story of the woman taken in adultery features a dramatic confrontation between Jesus and the Pharisees over whether the adulteress should be stoned as the law commands. In response, Jesus famously states, “Let him who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” To Cast the First Stone traces the history of thisKNUST, J. ; WASSERMAN, T. To Cast the First Stone: The Transmission of a Gospel Story. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2019 provocative story from its first appearance to its enduring presence today.

Likely added to the Gospel of John in the third century, the passage is often held up by modern critics as an example of textual corruption by early Christian scribes and editors, yet a judgment of corruption obscures the warm embrace the story actually received. Jennifer Knust and Tommy Wasserman trace the story’s incorporation into Gospel books, liturgical practices, storytelling, and art, overturning the mistaken perception that it was either peripheral or suppressed, even in the Greek East. The authors also explore the story’s many different meanings. Taken as an illustration of the expansiveness of Christ’s mercy, the purported superiority of Christians over Jews, the necessity of penance, and more, this vivid episode has invited any number of creative receptions. This history reveals as much about the changing priorities of audiences, scribes, editors, and scholars as it does about an “original” text of John.

To Cast the First Stone calls attention to significant shifts in Christian book cultures and the enduring impact of oral tradition on the preservation―and destabilization―of scripture.

 

Resenha na Bryn Mawr Classical Review em 07.10.2019 por Timothy N. Mitchell, Universidade de Birmingham, Reino Unido

The story of the woman caught in adultery (pericope adulterae, hereafter PA) has sparked devotion, art, and scholarship throughout the Christian ages. Even though it has traditionally been located in the Gospel of John, the account has an abnormal transmission history. Because of this, the story has been at the center of many debates involving the text and canon of the Gospels.

To Cast the First Stone codifies the results of more than ten years of research into the transmission and reception history of the PA by Jennifer Knust, Professor of Religious Studies at Duke University, and Tommy Wasserman, Professor of Biblical Studies at Ansgar Teologiske Høgskole in Norway. The work is comprised of an introduction, four sections containing eight chapters, and some “Concluding Reflections.”

Part I is composed of chapter 1 only which surveys modern scholarship on the PA. The emergence of modern methods of textual criticism and critical approaches to the study of the Gospels have often centered on this account. Even though modern textual criticism regards the story as not originally Johannine, scholars, pastors, and teachers continue to study and draw theological principles from the passage.

Part II consists of chapters 2-4 and discusses the development of the “Gospel book” and its connection with the gospel message. It is clear that the PA was not originally contained in the Gospel of John, and was not connected with any of the other canonical Gospels. Yet this did not prevent the account from being highly popular which resulted in its preservation. Whatever its origin, considering the scribal culture of the time, it is highly unlikely that the PA was deliberately suppressed or deleted from a gospel book.

Part III comprises chapters 5-6 and analyzes the preservation of the PA in the manuscript tradition and its representation in the art and teaching of the late antique and medieval periods. The evidence tells against the popular notion that the account was marginal to Christian belief. This section also considers Greek manuscript evidence such as the Codices Vaticanus and Sinaiticus, and the canon tables of Eusebius which do not contain the account. The Latin tradition, however, such as Codex Bezae, and the Latin fathers Ambrose, Jerome, and Augustine, accepted the story as authentically Johannine. All of this reinforces the knowledge that, even in the post Constantinian age, there were different Gospel texts circulating, those that included the passage and others that did not.

Part IV contains chapters 7-8 that consider the residue of the story that is located in the paratextual notes, headings and marginal comments in the Old Latin and Byzantine manuscript traditions. In the Old Latin, the paratextual features indicate the PA’s earlier absence from tradition, even though the account is retained in most Latin manuscripts. In the Greek tradition, the story is mentioned in chapter headings in late antiquity revealing that the PA was revered even in Greek contexts. The liturgical history of the account in the Latin and Greek traditions is also analyzed in this section. The liturgy ensured the PA’s textual preservation in both the Roman and Byzantine manuscript traditions.

There is one potentially confusing aspect of the book. At the end of chapter 1 the authors state clearly that they do not intend to solve “the textual standing of the passage” (46). This report appears to contradict their ‘Concluding Reflections,’ however, where Knust and Wasserman assert that “it is almost certainly correct that the story cannot be Johannine in its initial framing” (343). A little later they give a lengthy summary of the data, stating that, “Our survey of the evidence has convinced us that the story was interpolated into a Greek copy of John in the West,” and concluding that “the story was not actively suppressed on theological grounds, . . . despite the custom among some Byzantine scribes and scholars of identifying the passage as spurious.” (344).

Readers who are looking for a decision on the historical authenticity of the passage will be disappointed. Knust and Wasserman explain that, in the same spirit as Chris Keith’s treatment of the pericope, their book does not address the account’s canonicity or historicity (46).1 Yet there are hints that the passage may have emerged as an apocryphal account. This is because “the story of Jesus and the adulteress would have had a wide currency that could have served ancient Christians quite well, as the extensive second- and third-century Christian appreciation of the story of Susanna also demonstrates” (139).

The extent of Knust and Wasserman’s research is wide ranging, and space prevents a thorough overview of all the beneficial features. Thus, the following paragraphs will merely highlight a few examples that stood out as innovative to this reviewer.

The overview of the history of modern scholarship is rich in detail to such an extent that even Hitler and the Nazis receive a mention in a footnote discussing the scholarship of Walter Grundmann (37, n. 73). Knust and Wasserman insightfully compare the reception of the PA and the Longer Ending of Mark (hereafter LE) in modern scholarship. For example, though Samuel Tregelles viewed both the PA and LE as not original to the Gospels, he opted for treating both passages differently (18-19). The LE was inauthentic, yet “canonical,” and the PA was a “true narration” and a valid source for the “historical Jesus” (19). As modern criticism progressed into the mid-twentieth century, these attitudes became more widespread, the PA was increasingly viewed as a legitimate source for the “historical Jesus” and the LE was regarded as less and less historical (40). Because the LE contains material more difficult to assess historically, such as miracles and prophecies, this passage was “far less attractive” for those scholars reconstructing the “historical Jesus” (40). This comparison between the reception of the PA and the LE highlights the ways in which scholarly desires, such as a search for an “historical Jesus,” can deeply affect research outcomes.

Along with an overview of modern scholarship, book history and scribal practices are employed in reconstructing the history of the PA. Ancient book making, publication, circulation, borrowing, and collecting practices have rarely been brought to bear in discussing individual variation units. In a refreshing look at the evidence, Knust and Wasserman consider the private, and ad hoc circulation of books within Christian communities and the impact this would have had on the transmission of the story (70-76). Other features of Christian book making are examined as well, such as nomina sacra, and the early Christian preference for the codex format for their Gospel books (78-82). These features reveal that “convention, consensus, and the setting for which a book was produced” affected its “final form apart from any institutional check” (82). Even though an understanding of Christian book culture does not solve the mystery of when the account became Johannine, this knowledge “has helped us understand a book culture where such an event could have taken place” (83-84). Knust and Wasserman demonstrate that an understanding of Christian book culture can and should take an essential role in the study of textual variants and reconstructing a transmission history.

The scholarship of Origen is ingeniously utilized in order to test the plausibility of the PA being intentionally omitted from John (122). It is possible that the account was removed in late antiquity during the process of correcting (διόρθωσις) an edition (ἔκδοσις) of John (122). In his commentary on Matthew, Origen indicates that it was his practice not to delete a textually suspect passage from his edition of the Greek Old Testament, rather, he would retain variant readings and indicate where they were sourced, the Hebrew or other Greek editions (130). Origen’s response to Julius Africanus’s enquiry into the history of the Susanna story in Daniel is particularly relevant to the PA in John. Though the account of Susanna was indeed spurious, Origen was reluctant to athetize the story from his own Greek edition of Daniel because the account had a long standing in Christian worship (131-134). Knust and Wasserman rightly see this as evidence against the theory that the PA was deliberately removed from some additions of John.

One of the more fascinating elements of the book is the discussion centering on the liturgy, both in the Latin West, and in the Greek East and its role in shaping the text of John’s Gospel. In Byzantine manuscripts of John, the account is often marked with the indication “υπ(ερβαλε) (skip), identifying it as external to the Pentecost lection” (269-270). In the Greek tradition the Pentecost reading ran from John 3:37 to John 7:52, at which point the “skip” notation jumps over the PA and continues the lection at John 8:12 (269-270). This “skip” lection likely indicates that the story did not “enter Byzantine copies of John until the close of the fourth century, or even later” (299). The oldest Latin capitula known, “Type Cy,” has an abbreviated summary of the PA which stands in contrast to the other lengthier summaries (263). This feature may or may not indicate a later addition to these Latin capitula; it could also suggest that the story was present in contexts where Greek-Latin diglots were used (263-266). Along with this, Family 1 manuscripts, Codex 1 and 1582, give evidence of Greek kephalaia that included the PA as early as the 5th century (279-284). Though much more could be said in this review, Knust and Wasserman reveal that the Greek liturgy is a mine rich in data that assists in locating when an important textual reading may have entered into the Gospel of John.

To Cast the First Stone manages to be both exact in detail and broad in its use of data. Readers will both gain a deeper understanding of the transmission history of the PA and be exposed to a breadth of information on early Christian book culture, scribal and scholastic conventions, and lectionary practices. Knust and Wasserman’s work is a model of seemingly disparate elements being brought together in order to carefully examine an important textual variant.

This study differs from other books on the PA, such as Chris Keith’s, The Pericope Adulterae, the Gospel of John, and the Literacy of Jesus, in that Knust and Wasserman do not attempt answer the question of origins of the PA, as Keith’s work attempts to answer. To Cast the First Stone also does not engage in an exegetical analysis of the theology or vocabulary in the text of the passage.

This work will appeal to a wide audience. Christian historians, theologians, textual scholars, and interested lay readers may find the work helpful. In the book can be found careful historical analysis of early Christian; attitudes towards “sinning” women and their influence on receiving or rejecting a passage of “scripture;” scribal culture and the probability of theologically motivated textual changes; and the role of book production and publication in shaping the text. This book is will likely become the standard reference for the textual history of the story of the woman caught in adultery.

Notes:

1. Chris Keith, The Pericope Adulterae, the Gospel of John, and the Literacy of Jesus (New Testament Tools, Studies, and Documents 38; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2009).

Profecia: chave para a compreensão do presente

Em 2010 escrevi sobre o fazer teológico: Uma Teologia que não aborda os problemas de sua época não serve para nada.

O mesmo vale para a profecia.

 

A profecia bíblica não é simplesmente uma questão de conhecimento orientado para o futuro, mas é, em grande parte, uma questão de conhecimento orientado para o presente.

A profecia é concebida como chave para a compreensão do presente, não como especulação sobre o que há de vir, mesmo que esse modo de pensar tenha recebido atenção na tradição bíblica e pós-bíblica.

Assim, até retratos ousados de predições proféticas (Vorhersagen) são, em última instância, proclamações (Hervorsagen).

Na profecia bíblica, prognóstico e pós-diagnóstico andam de mãos dadas. Essa simbiose mostra que a profecia bíblica é mais racional, orientada para o presente e retrospectiva do que as pessoas, às vezes, querem aceitar.

 

Prophecy in the Bible is not simply a matter of future-oriented knowledge, but to a great degree is a matter of present-oriented knowledge. It is conceived as key for understanding the present, not as speculation about that which might come, even though this way of thinking received attention in biblical and post-biblical tradition. Accordingly, even bold portrayals of prophetic predictions (Vorhersagen) are themselves ultimately pronouncements (Hervorsagen). In biblical prophecy, prognosis and postgnosis go hand in hand. This symbiosis shows that biblical prophecy is more rational, present-oriented, and retrospective than people have at times been prepared to assume (p. 120).

Parágrafo final de SCHMID, K. Prognosis and Postgnosis in Biblical Prophecy. Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament, vol. 32, n. 1, p. 106-120, 2018. Disponível online.

 

Prophetie interessiert in der Bibel nicht einfach als Zukunftswissen, sondern ebenso sehr als Gegenwartswissen. Prophetie wird verstanden als ein Schlüssel zum Verständnis der Gegenwart, nicht als Spekulation über das, was noch kommen mag, auch wenn dieser Strang sich natürlich in der biblischen und nachbiblischen Tradition auch sein eigenes Gehör verschafft hat. Deshalb sind auch gewagte Konstruktionen von prophetischen „Vorhersagen“ in der Bibel oft letztlich nichts anderes „Hervorsagen“ – wenn ich dieses Kunstwort einmal so konstruieren darf. Prognosen und Postgnosen gehen in der biblischen Prophetie Hand in Hand einher. Ihre Symbiose zeigt, dass die biblische Prophetie rationaler, gegenwartsbezogener und retrospektiver ist, als man bisweilen anzunehmen bereit ist.

Parágrafo final de SCHMID, K. Prognosen und Postgnosen in der biblischen Prophetie, Evangelische Theologie 74, s. 462-476, 2014. Disponível online.

Konrad Schmid é professor de Bíblia Hebraica e Judaísmo Antigo na Universidade de Zurique, Suíça.

Os profetas: estamos caminhando para uma mudança de paradigma?

Este texto foi publicado pela primeira vez em 1989 e reeditado em 2012. Vale a pena por ser bastante didático na explicação dos novos rumos da pesquisa sobre a literatura profética da Bíblia Hebraica.

Reproduzo aqui dois trechos. O primeiro explica o que é paradigma e porque ocorrem mudanças. O segundo mostra os vários fatores que levam ao enfraquecimento do paradigma dominante e ao aparecimento de um novo paradigma. O autor explica, ao longo do capitulo, que ocupa as páginas 1-18 do livro, como estes fatores aparecem na pesquisa acadêmica sobre o profetismo.

 

Thomas S. Kuhn, em A estrutura das revoluções científicas (201813), retrata a história das ciências naturais como passando por períodos de “ciência normal” e “revolução”. Um dos conceitos básicos do pensamento de Kuhn é o de “paradigma”, isto é, o complexo de convicções, valores e visão de mundo compartilhado por uma comunidade científica que fornece sua estrutura filosófica para uma pesquisa acadêmica válida, ou qualquer elemento desse complexo relacionado à estratégia, técnica ou método para resolver quebra-cabeças científicos e que é aceito como eficaz e válido nessa comunidade. A ciência normal é, assim, na terminologia de Kuhn, o estágio na história da investigação acadêmica em que os estudiosos de um campo em particular geralmente aceitam a validade de um paradigma de pensamento específico e o aplicam sem questionamentos. O resultado da ciência normal não é tanto a descoberta de algo novo, mas um refinamento e articulação gradual de elementos do paradigma do pensamento e/ou descrição mais precisa de descobertas anteriores obtidas através da aplicação desse modelo.

Esta etapa termina com o advento de uma revolução científica. Uma revolução científica ocorre quando um paradigma dominante de pensamento (ou um elemento desse paradigma) é considerado inadequado e, eventualmente, é abandonado em favor de um novo paradigma a partir do qual procede uma nova visão sobre os problemas envolvidos no campo de estudo. Os estudiosos convencidos da relevância superior do novo conjunto de perguntas e do poder explicativo superior do novo paradigma experimentam uma mudança de paradigma. Uma mudança de paradigma pode, portanto, ser definida como o processo de reconhecer a inadequação e, portanto, o fracasso de uma determinada abordagem acadêmica em fazer perguntas relevantes e/ou sugerir soluções válidas para problemas em um campo acadêmico e que levam à substituição do antigo paradigma de pensamento por uma abordagem mais relevante/válida e/ou promissora. Como essa substituição não implica simplesmente a aplicação de novas técnicas, mas uma mudança completa de perspectiva, também é chamada de conversão – que pode ser um termo ironicamente relevante ao falar sobre profetas.

Na minha opinião, estamos atualmente (pelo menos na minha parte do mundo) em meio a uma mudança de paradigma no que diz respeito à apreciação acadêmica dos profetas do Antigo Testamento em geral e dos chamados “profetas do livro” em particular.

(…)

Sobre o enfraquecimento do paradigma dominante

Nenhum modelo respeitado desaparece subitamente e inexplicavelmente de cena. É primeiro “prejudicado” por uma série de fatores, entre os quais os seguintes são relevantes para nós aqui.

:. Em primeiro lugar, podem surgir novas evidências que não podem ser adequadamente explicadas em termos das suposições do modelo dominante.
:. Em segundo lugar, as suposições do mundo acadêmico podem mudar a tal ponto que as premissas do modelo dominante são seriamente questionadas.
:. Em terceiro lugar, podem surgir novas questões que não podem ser adequadamente pesquisadas e respondidas pelos procedimentos do modelo dominante.
:. Em quarto lugar, os proponentes do modelo dominante podem desaparecer de cena e uma nova geração de estudiosos, formados em circunstâncias diferentes, pode assumir o controle.

Uma vez que tais fatores entram em cena, o modelo reinante é constantemente corroído e se torna cada vez mais questionável até que seja considerado irrelevante – pelo menos por uma parcela da comunidade acadêmica. Enquanto isso, outros modelos começam a competir pela aceitação até que um deles consiga se tornar o modelo dominante em (pelo menos) uma parcela respeitada da comunidade acadêmica.

 

Kuhn, in his The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (19702), pictures the history of the natural sciences as going through periods of »normal science« and »revolution«. One of the basic concepts in Kuhn’s thought is that of »paradigm«, i. e. the complex of convictions, values, and world view shared by a scientific community which provides its philosophical framework for valid academic inquiry, or any element of such a complex that has to do with the strategy, technique, or method for solving scientific puzzles and that is accepted as effective and valid within that community. Normal science, then, in Kuhn’s terminology, is that stage in the history of academic FRITZ, V. et al. (eds.) Prophet und Prophetenbuch: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 65. Geburtstag. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, [1989] 2012inquiry at which scholars in a particular field generally accept the validity of a particular paradigm of thought and apply it unquestioningly. The outcome of normal science is not so much the discovery of something new as a gradual refinement and articulation of elements of the paradigm of thought and/or more precise description of previous findings obtained through the application of that model.

This stage ends with the advent of a scientific revolution. A scientific revolution occurs when a dominant paradigm of thought (or an element of such a paradigm) is found to be inadequate and is eventually abandoned in favour of a new paradigm from which proceeds a new view on the problems involved in the field of study. Scholars convinced of the superior relevancy of the new set of questions and of the superior explanatory power of the new paradigm then experience a paradigm switch. A paradigm switch can thus be defined as the process of acknowledging the inadequacy and, therefore, the failure of a given academic approach to ask relevant questions and/or suggest valid solutions to problems in an academic field and that leads to the replacement of the old paradigm of thought by a more relevant/valid and/or promising approach. Since such a replacement does not simply imply the application of new techniques, but a complete change in outlook, it is also called a conversion — which may be an ironically relevant term when speaking about the prophets.

To my mind we are at present (at least in my part of the world) in the midst of such a paradigm switch with regard to the scholarly appreciation of the Old Testament prophets in general and the so-called »writing prophets« in particular.

(…)

The undermining of the dominant paradigm

No respected model suddenly and inexplicably disappears from the scene. It is first »undermined« by a number of factors, among which the following are relevant to us here. Firstly, new evidence may come to light which cannot be adequately explained in terms of the assumptions of the dominant model. Secondly, the assumptions of the scholarly world may change to such an extent that the premisses of the dominant model are seriously called in question. Thirdly, certain new questions may arise which cannot be adequately researched and answered by the procedures of the dominant model. Fourthly, the proponents of the dominant model may disappear from the scene and a new generation of scholars (that grew up under different circumstances) may take over.

Once such factors come into play the reigning model is steadily eroded and becomes more and more questionable until such time as it is experienced as irrelevant – at least by a section of the scholarly community. In the meantime other models start competing for acceptance until one of them succeeds in becoming the dominant model within (at least) a respected section of the scholarly community.

Trecho de DEIST, F. E. The prophets: are we heading for a paradigm switch? In: FRITZ, V. et al. (eds.) Prophet und Prophetenbuch: Festschrift für Otto Kaiser zum 65. Geburtstag. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, [1989] 2012, p. 1 e 5.

Mudança de paradigma na pesquisa do profetismo bíblico

Muitos têm observado que desde o final dos anos 80 do século XX o estudo da profecia bíblica e dos livros proféticos vem passando por uma mudança de paradigma. De fato, os estudos proféticos encontram-se há bastante tempo em um período de transição. Eles não são os mesmos de algumas décadas atrás. Uma rápida vistoria na variedade atual de abordagens metodológicas nos estudos bíblicos é suficiente para demonstrar que os estudos histórico-críticos tradicionais deram lugar a maneiras menos históricas e não-históricas de ver os livros proféticos, como abordagens literárias e de gênero ou estudos pós-coloniais e críticas ideológicas. No entanto, os estudos histórico-críticos não perderam sua relevância nos estudos de profecia. O foco é que mudou, se afastando da reconstrução da vida e das obras dos profetas históricos e se concentrando nos processos literários que resultaram nos livros proféticos bíblicos e em questões sociorreligiosas relacionadas à profecia e à sociedade. Os estudos diacrônicos dos livros proféticos não visam mais ‘o verso intocado e não contaminado do autor, poeta e profeta’. Os livros proféticos são hoje lidos no contexto do pós-exílio, ou seja, em sua forma literária mais recente, embora não necessariamente seja esta a forma final.

Além disso, os estudos históricos não se limitam mais ao texto bíblico, graças à crescente atenção aos documentos sobre a profecia do Antigo Oriente Médio, que permite a apreciação da profecia israelita como mais um exemplo de um fenômeno cultural e sociorreligioso mais amplo de transmissão de palavras supostamente divinas a destinatários humanos. Nenhum estudo sério da profecia como fenômeno histórico pode prescindir de fontes extrabíblicas, que hoje estão disponíveis para todo pesquisador.

Novidades metodológicas recentes, bem como o extenso corpus de material recuperado, causaram reorientações fundamentais no estudo da profecia. Houve um tempo em que o estudo dos livros proféticos se concentrava essencialmente na reconstrução da mensagem de cada profeta bíblico como uma personalidade histórica e o autor original do livro profético atribuído a ele, cuja obra foi posteriormente complementada por redatores posteriores. Estudos clássicos desse tipo – como os de Bernhard Duhm sobre os profetas de Israel – são o pré-requisito absoluto do estudo crítico da profecia bíblica, e os livros proféticos ainda são bastante abordados a partir dos profetas aos quais os textos são tradicionalmente atribuídos. No entanto, um breve olhar em introduções recentes à Bíblia Hebraica ou à literatura profética revela que os livros proféticos são introduzidos principalmente como livros, enquanto os profetas a quem são atribuídos tendem a se tornar indistintos. Isso reflete a convicção acadêmica de que a principal missão dos estudos proféticos não pode mais ser estabelecer a ipsissima verba dos antigos profetas, uma vez que eles só podem ser visualizados através das fontes escritas, sejam bíblicas ou não-bíblicas – e nem sequer identificar o material mais antigo incluído nos textos proféticos, como se este fosse mais interessante e valioso em virtude de sua alegada “originalidade”. O modelo “o autor em seu contexto” está sendo cada vez mais substituído por outros modelos, mais ou menos interessados ​​em questões históricas, seja qual for o sentido de “história”.

 

It has been noted since late 1980’s at the latest that the study of biblical prophecy and prophetic books is going through a paradigm switch. Indeed, prophetic studies have for quite a while found themselves in a period of transition; they are not the same as they used to be a couple of decades ago. A quick look at the spectrum of today’s variety of methodological approaches in biblical studies is enough to demonstrate that traditional historical‐critical studies have given way to less historical and non‐historical ways of viewing the prophetic books, such as literary and gender approaches or postcolonial studies and ideological criticism. However, as many contributions published in the present volume (including an article by H ANS B ARSTAD to which this article originally responded) and other recent collections of essays well demonstrate, even historical‐critical studies have by no means lost their relevance in studies of prophecy; nevertheless, it is observable that their focus has turned away from the reconstruction of the life and deeds of historical prophets and directed towards literary processes that resulted in the biblical prophetic books and socioreligious issues related to prophecy and society. The diachronic studies in the prophetic books no longer aim at ‘the pristine and uncontaminated verse of the author, poet and prophet’ ; they would rather give to each layer and gloss its own meaning and significance. Even synchronic studies that refrain from reconstructing the literary genesis of the prophetic books are often historically oriented, reading the books against the background of the Second Temple period, that is, the date of the prophetic books in their advanced (but not necessarily ‘final’) literary form.

In addition, historical studies are no longer restricted to the biblical text itself, thanks to the increasing attention to the documentation of ancient Near Eastern prophecy, which enables the appreciation of the Hebrew prophecy as another specimen of a wider cultural and socio‐religious phenomenon of transmitting allegedly divine words to human recipients. No serious study of prophecy as a historical phenomenon can do without extrabiblical sources, which today are available to every researcher.

Recent methodological innovations as well as the extended corpus of source material have caused fundamental reorientations in the study of prophecy. There was a time when the study of the prophetic books was essentially focused on the reconstruction of the message of each biblical prophet as a historical personality and the original author of the prophetic book ascribed to him, whose work had subsequently been supplemented by later hands. Classical studies of this kind—such as BERNHARD DUHM ’s on Israel’s prophets —are the absolute prerequisite of the critical study of biblical prophecy, and the prophetic books are still quite commonly approached through the prophets to whom the texts are traditionally ascribed. However, a brief look at recent introductions to the Hebrew Bible or to the prophetic literature reveals that the prophetic books are introduced primarily as books, whereas the prophets to whom they are attributed tend to become indistinct. This reflects the scholarly conviction that the primary mission of prophetic studies can no longer be to establish the ipsissima verba of ancient prophets, since they can hardly be distracted from any written sources, whether biblical or nonbiblical —it is not even to identify the earliest material included in the prophetic texts, as if it were more interesting and valuable by virtue of its alleged ‘originality’. The ‘author‐in time’ model is increasingly being replaced by other models, more or less interested in historical issues—whatever is meant with ‘history.’

What is the aim of prophetic studies, then? There is certainly more than one answer to this question. Since the reliance on objective and value‐free questions is gone, the answer depends on each researcher’s agenda; the concerns of a theologian, postcolonialist, feminist, or, say, discourse analyst will result in sets of questions that may be equally relevant but different from those implied by the title of this paper which focuses on the historical dilemma of prophetic studies. Biblical studies have many aims, one of them still being a historical one.

Trecho de NISSINEN, M. The Historical Dilemma of Biblical Prophetic Studies. In: BARSTAD, M. H. ; KRATZ, R. G. (eds.) Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009, p. 103-105.BARSTAD, M. H. ; KRATZ, R. G. (eds.) Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2009

 

Sobre o livro

This volume contains the proceedings of a Symposium “Prophecy in the Book of Jeremiah”, arranged by the Edinburgh Prophecy Network in the School of Divinity at the University of Edinburgh, 11-12 May 2007. Prophetic studies are undergoing radical changes at the moment, following the breakdown of a methodological consensus in humanities and biblical studies. One of the challenges today concerns the question how to deal with history in a “post-modern” age. The French Annales School and narrative theory have contributed toward changing the intellectual climate of biblical studies dramatically. Whereas the “historical Jeremiah” was formerly believed to be hidden under countless additions and interpretations, and changed beyond recognition, it was still assumed that it would be possible to recover the “real” prophet with the tools of historical critical methods. However, according to a majority of scholars today, the recovery of the historical Jeremiah is no longer possible. For this reason, we have to seek new and multimethodological approaches to the study of prophecy, including diachronic and synchronic methods. The Meeting in Edinburgh in 2007 gathered specialists in prophetic studies from Denmark, Finland, Germany, the Netherlands, United Kingdom and the USA, focusing on different aspects of the prophet Jeremiah. Prophetic texts from the whole Hebrew Bible and ancient Near Eastern prophecy are taken into consideration.

Ezequiel na virada do século

Na primeira metade do século XX, se comparado com Isaías e Jeremias, o livro do profeta Ezequiel recebeu pouca atenção dos pesquisadores. Isto mudou radicalmente com a publicação do comentário, em dois volumes e em alemão, do suíço Walther Zimmerli, em 1969, e sua tradução para o inglês em 1979 e 1983. Com sua leitura histórico-crítica rigorosa, Zimmerli iniciou uma nova era para os estudos do livro de Ezequiel. Livro que ele atribuiu quase todo a seguidores do profeta. Também em 1983 aparece o primeiro volume do comentário de M. Greenberg que, em contraste com Zimmerli, apresenta o livro como proveniente do próprio profeta. Desde a publicação destes dois comentários, o nosso conhecimento sobre o exílio babilônico, época de Ezequiel, melhorou consideravelmente com os estudos arqueológicos, sociológicos e antropológicos feitos nos últimos anos. E o livro de Ezequiel passou a chamar mais a atenção dos pesquisadores.

 

The twentieth century was most eventful for the scholarly study of the book of Ezekiel (…) It is no wonder, then, that critical scholarship on the book through the first half of the 1900s seemed rather lackluster when compared with the other major biblical prophets. Indeed, the book of Ezekiel, perhaps because of the exilic setting of the work, or the bizarre behavior recounted in the text, or perhaps the conflicted priestly versus prophetic persona of Ezekiel himself, received considerably less scholarly attention than most of the prophet’s biblical predecessors (…) This trend changed dramatically with the appearance of Zimmerli’s two-volume commentary, published in German in the 1960s, and subsequently in English in 1979 and 1983. Zimmerli’ s mastery of form, text and redaction criticism, along with his traditio-historical analysis, made his commentary the new starting point for serious Ezekiel scholars. Even so, Zimmerli also ultimately deemed the bulk of the prophetic text to be secondary, written by the followers of the prophet (…) Also appearing in 1983 was the first volume of Greenberg’s Anchor Bible commentary on Ezekiel. In Ezekiel 1–20, Greenberg, in contrast to Zimmerli, illustrates his view that the general shape of the book is the result of representation of the prophet’s unique vision in its received form. With his emphasis on biblical and early Jewish commentators, Greenberg’s holistic method of textual and structural interpretation helped elucidate the sixth-century matrix of the prophet himself (…) Since the publication of Zimmerli’s and Greenberg’s commentaries, significant strides have been made in the study of the historical circumstances surrounding the Israelite Exile. Archaeological, sociological and anthropological analyses have illuminated what had been a dark age in biblical history, and have helped reveal the vivid theological struggles among both the local and Diaspora populations that have come to characterize the exilic period. As a result, the book of Ezekiel has gained both renewed interest and respect. As a prophet of the Exile, Ezekiel has come to be viewed as an important and liminal figure in the evolution of Israelite thought and theology.

Trecho de LEVITT KOHN, R. Ezekiel at the Turn of the Century. In: HAUSER, A. J. (ed.) Recent Research on the Major Prophets. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2008, p. 260-261.

 

Autores citados no texto

ZIMMERLI, W. Ezekiel. I. A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 1–24. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979 (original alemão: 1969).

ZIMMERLI, W. Ezekiel. II. A Commentary on the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, Chapters 25–48. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983 (original alemão: 1969).

GREENBERG, M. Ezekiel 1-20. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1983.

GREENBERG, M. Ezekiel 21-37. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1997.