GELARDINI Gabriella 2005 Hebrews Contemporary Methods New Insights Biblical Interpretation Series 75 Leiden and Bosto

Hebrews
Biblical Interpretation Series
Editors
R. Alan Culpepper, Ellen van Wolde
Associate Editors
David E. Orton, Rolf Rendtorff
Editorial Advisory Board

Janice Capel Anderson – Mieke Bal – Phyllis A.
Bird – Erhard Blum – Werner H. Kelber
Ekkehard W. Stegemann – Vincent L. Wimbush
Jean Zumstein
VOLUME 75
Hebrews
Contemporary Methods – New Insights
Edited by
Gabriella Gelardini
BRILL
LEIDEN • BOSTON
2005
This book is printed on acid-free paper.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Hebrews : contemporary methods, new insights / edited by Gabriella Gelardini.

p. cm. — (Biblical interpretation series, ISSN 0928-0731 ; v. 75)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 90-04-14490-0 (alk. paper)
1. Bible, N.T. Hebrews—Criticism, interpretation, etc. I. Gelardini, Gabriella.
II. Series.
BS2775.52.H42 2005
227’8706—dc22
2005046967
ISSN 0928-0731
ISBN 90 04 14490 0
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CONTENTS
Foreword .................................................................................... vii

Harold W. Attridge
Introduction ................................................................................ 1
Gabriella Gelardini
PART ONE
CULTIC LANGUAGE, CONCEPTS,

AND PRACTICE IN HEBREWS
Does the Cultic Language in Hebrews Represent

Sacrificial Metaphors? Reflections on Some Basic
Problems .................................................................................. 13
Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann
Some Remarks on Hebrews from the Viewpoint of

Old Testament Exegesis ........................................................ 25
Ina Willi-Plein
Characteristics of Sacrificial Metaphors in Hebrews .............. 37

Christian A. Eberhart
Covenant, Cult, and the Curse-of-Death: DiayÆkh in

Heb 9:15–22 .......................................................................... 65
Scott W. Hahn
The Epistle to the Hebrews as a “Jesus-Midrash” .................. 89

Elke Tönges
Hebrews, an Ancient Synagogue Homily for Tisha be-Av:

Its Function, its Basis, its Theological Interpretation .......... 107
Gabriella Gelardini
vi contents
PART TWO
SOCIOLOGY, ETHICS, AND RHETORIC IN HEBREWS
Portraying the Temple in Stone and Text: The Arch

of Titus and the Epistle to the Hebrews ............................ 131
Ellen Bradshaw Aitken
How to Entertain Angels: Ethics in the Epistle to

the Hebrews ............................................................................ 149
Knut Backhaus
The Intersection of Alien Status and Cultic Discourse

in the Epistle to the Hebrews .............................................. 177
Benjamin Dunning
Reflections of Rhetorical Terminology in Hebrews ................ 199

Hermut Löhr
PART THREE
TEXTUAL-HISTORICAL, COMPARATIVE, AND

INTERTEXTUAL APPROACHES TO HEBREWS
Locating Hebrews within the Literary Landscape

of Christian Origins ................................................................ 213
Pamela M. Eisenbaum
Hebrews and the Heritage of Paul .......................................... 239

Dieter Georgi
Paul and Hebrews: A Comparison of Narrative Worlds ........ 245

James C. Miller
Constructions and Collusions: The Making and

Unmaking of Identity in Qoheleth and Hebrews .............. 265
Jennifer L. Koosed and Robert P. Seesengood
Indices
Index of Modern Authors ...................................................... 281
Index of Ancient Sources ...................................................... 289
FOREWORD
Despite generations of learned commentators, the Epistle to the

Hebrews remains an object of fascination for students of the origins
of Christianity. Some of that fascination arises from the complexity
of the work itself, with its elaborate, sustained, dare I say “metaphor-
ical” treatment of the death of Christ, its rich but often subtle vocab-
ulary, and its complex intertextual relations with the sacred scriptures
of Israel and the literature of Second Temple Judaism. While the
text is intricate, its contemporary readership has become more com-
plex as well. Rhetorical and sociological analyses of early Christian
texts and communities, building on traditional literary and histori-
cal criticism, have increased in complexity and sophistication. As
interpreters generally have become sensitive to the political com-
mitments of ancient texts and their postmodern readers, new ques-
tions and perspectives have emerged. At the same time, readers
committed to a Christian stance in the contemporary world have
turned with renewed enthusiasm to the movement’s earliest voices.
Scholarship on the New Testament thus continues to evolve, influenced
by trends in the humanities generally and by efforts to find new
ways to appropriate Scripture for contemporary religious life. It is
no surprise then that scholarship on the Epistle to the Hebrews has
also continued to develop.
When I set out to write a commentary on this most intriguing
epistle some twenty years ago, the major issues had been stable for
a generation or so. Most scholars had long since ceased to worry
about Pauline authorship, but debates still raged about the dating
of the epistle and its relations with other ancient sources, the Dead
Sea Scrolls and Philo marking the ends of the usual spectrum,
although “Gnostic” texts still appeared on the horizon of some schol-
arly analyses. Debate also continued about the character of the
addressees. Were they Jews to be converted or saved from “relaps-
ing” to Judaism? Or were they Gentiles whose faith needed to be
strengthened in the face of persecution, or were they something in
between? Questions redolent of the history of ideas still were promi-
nent. What world of thought or imagination did it come from—
Jewish apocalyptic, Greek philosophy, odd mythology? Some new
analytical methods were just capturing the attention of exegetes. The
viii foreword
groundbreaking work of Hans Dieter Betz on the rhetoric of Galatians

suggested to other scholars that some sort of rhetorical analysis might
be appropriate for Hebrews. Attempts to analyze the social situation
of early Christian communities seemed a promising avenue.
The evolving world of scholarly discourse is well represented in
these essays. Some are concerned with literary issues, such as the
character and function of the text’s figurative language (Eberhart,
Stegemann and Stegemann) or its argumentative structures (Löhr).
Seesengood and Koosed’s essay explores the functions of the point-
edly indeterminate author, comparing the similarly indeterminate “I”
of Qoheleth. Intertextual issues loom large in the analyses by Hahn
of the “covenant” language, by Tönges, in her exploration of the
“midrashic” character of Hebrews, and by Gelardini, in her effort
to relate Hebrews to a lectionary cycle. Attempts to understand the
function of Hebrews now utilize various sociological and anthropo-
logical models. Willi-Plein invokes the categories of cultural anthro-
pology in a new approach to the structure of Hebrews’ play on
sacrificial motifs. Aitken adopts a postcolonial perspective as she sets
Hebrews in the context of Flavian Rome. Issues of “identity” for-
mation in early Christianity and Judaism of the imperial period
appear in several essays. Eisenbaum offers a general theoretical frame-
work for this question. Backhaus uses the notion of a symbolic uni-
verse to describe what Hebrews does for its community. Dunning
explores discourse about the “alien” as a way of unpacking Hebrews’
rhetoric. While Pauline authorship is not an issue on the table, the
affinities of the text with Pauline Christianity elicit new theological
and literary analyses by Georgi and Miller, essays that contribute to
the ongoing dialogue about the theological significance of Hebrews.
The conversation continues and will no doubt develop further as
collaborative work on Hebrews proceeds in scholarly organizations
such as the Society of Biblical Literature, whose Annual Meeting
will soon host a new program unit on the text. One area that I
hope will be further explored in that context is the history of read-
ing Hebrews. There remain stories to be told about how the text
functioned in the ongoing shaping of Christian doctrine and com-
munity identity. It is a delight to see a new cohort of young schol-
ars ready to address the whole range of issues that this text presents.
Harold W. Attridge
New Haven, Conn., U.S.A.
INTRODUCTION
Habent sua fata libelli—the volume you are looking at is a unique one,
and just as any other book holds its own history, this one does too.
It began on a gray winter day in 1999 during my stay at Harvard
University as a visiting scholar, as Ellen B. Aitken and I cruised
westwards on Interstate highway 90 heading toward Amherst, Massa-
chusetts, the small town probably best known for one of its 19th-
century residents, America’s great if not greatest poet Emily Dickinson.
Ellen and I were wondering why the renowned Society of Biblical
Literature (SBL) had granted so little attention to the so-called Epistle
to the Hebrews in its Annual Meeting, which had just taken place
in Boston. Had it not been the merit of Hebrews scholarship of the
last forty years to bring the auctor ad Hebraeos from the margin to
the center of New Testament theology? Was this writer not currently
considered the third great theologian of the New Testament, next
to Paul and John? We agreed that something needed to be done.
An apt occasion arose, but not immediately. It was Kristin De Troyer
who suggested to me that I might put together a session on Hebrews
for the International Meeting of the SBL in Rome in 2001. I didn’t
ponder long. Remembering the conversation with Ellen, I contacted
her, and thanks to her help the SBL International Meeting had its
first Hebrews Seminar. Another followed in Berlin (2002), then one
in Cambridge (2003), and a further one in Groningen (2004). I
became its official chair, and Ellen, Harold W. Attridge and Pamela
M. Eisenbaum its unofficial steering committee. In these four years,
twenty-four (!) papers on Hebrews were read. The idea to put
forth a volume originated in Berlin. We are thrilled that starting in
2005, the SBL Annual Meeting will have its own Consultation on
Hebrews too.
The present volume comprises a selection of twelve of the finest

papers given in these sessions (2001: Aitken; 2002: Backhaus,
Eisenbaum, Löhr; 2003: Dunning, Eberhart, Gelardini, Georgi, Miller,
Stegemann and Stegemann, Tönges; 2004: Koosed and Seesengood)
and two additional papers by scholars who intended to participate
in the sessions but were prevented by other obligations ([2003]: Hahn,
2 introduction
Willi-Plein). The fourteen contributors form an intriguing international

group of senior scholars alongside an aspiring group of younger schol-
ars. Most of them either have written a monograph on Hebrews or
are currently doing so.
Yet not only in terms of its authors does this volume offer excit-
ing diversity. The complexity of Hebrews, which has often been
described as a “riddle,” has always invited the application of new
methods. Hence, the reader of this volume might encounter a post-
modern reading of Hebrews (Stegemann and Stegemann), an inves-
tigation of its textual history (Eisenbaum), or an approach to it via
the sociology of knowledge (Backhaus) for the first time. Many new
insights are offered here, such as the correlation of the political the-
ology of Hebrews with that of Flavian Rome (Aitken), the interpre-
tation of Hebrews based on the Palestinian Triennial Cycle (Gelardini)
or the elaborate semantic-syntactical exegesis of diayÆkh (Hahn).
The fourteen essays are grouped into three parts. Part One, “Cultic
Language, Concepts, and Practice in Hebrews,” considers cultic language and
concepts (Stegemann and Stegemann, Willi-Plein, Eberhart), the im-
portance of the covenant in Hebrews (Hahn, Gelardini), and Hebrews
as a Midrash on Jesus (Tönges).
Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann bring a postmodern
sensibility to Hebrews, by reflecting on what is done when sacrificial
language is declared to be “metaphorical.” The view inherent to this
declaration is closely linked to a representation of history as a repro-
duction of an objective entity. Based on such an epistemological par-
adigm, one must conclude that since Hebrews’ sacrificial language
lacks any historical referent outside the text, it can only be metaphor-
ical, and hence must be a theological interpretation of the brutum
factum historicum of the crucifixion. But exactly this ontological pre-
supposition in our “Western episteme” reveals its particular cultural
and Eurocentric perspective. Historical facts are always interpreta-
tions by means of language and are influenced by the cultural and
individual idiosyncrasies of the historian. In our—and by this is
meant the Westerners’—understanding of reality, the perception of
the death of Jesus on the cross as a so-called real historical event
only allows for political, social, forensic, or psychological dimensions
of its representation. Other forms of representing his death, such as
in terms of an atoning sacrifice, appear in our spectrum of percep-
tions a priori as an additional, mythical and hence metaphorical inter-
introduction 3
pretation. The authors opt in conclusion to perceive the sacrificial lan-

guage of Jesus’ death not just as an interpretation of the crucifixion
but also as a possible representation.
Ina Willi-Plein reads Hebrews’ cultic concepts from a viewpoint of
Old Testament exegesis and history of religion. Out of the set of
ideas that seem to constitute the cultic system of the final stage
of the Old Testament texts, she observes that Hebrews seems to pri-
oritize the heavenly sanctuary within the Israelite framework of con-
ceptions of cultic space, the office of the high priest, the cultic
performance of the Day of Atonement, and the application of blood
in the holy of holies. Since the service done by the high priest cul-
minates in the ritual of the Day of Atonement, and since the author
of Hebrews is doing theology by interpreting Scripture, Willi-Plein
embarks on a close reading of Lev 16. From this perspective, she
concludes that Christ’s sin-offering in Hebrews should neither be
viewed as a vicarious dying nor as an expiatory self-sacrifice. Rather,
authorized by God, it is the Son’s bringing of uncontaminated life
(i.e., blood)—caused through innocent suffering—into the sanctuary
in order to remove pollutions due to sin.
Christian A. Eberhart offers a Wirkungsgeschichte of sacrificial metaphors
in the Hebrew Bible, the New Testament, and Hebrews. After pro-
viding a Traditionsgeschichte of the Judean sacrificial cult, Eberhart
shows how the author of Hebrews builds on two types of traditional
cult metaphors, one of blood and the other of sacrifice, which he ulti-
mately connects: Christ’s sacrifice implies his exaltation from earth
to heaven where he now serves as the heavenly high priest; his blood
guarantees the necessary cultic purification for those who approach
the heavenly sanctuary.
Scott W. Hahn applies a semantic-syntactic and social-scientific
method to Heb 9:15–22. In order to elucidate the meaning of
“covenant” and overcome the long-standing interpretive crux of this
passage, he suggests entering into Hebrews’ own culture, which per-
ceives liturgy and law as a unity. However, Heb 9:15–18 appears
to be counter-evidence for this integration. In Heb 9:16–17, the
author appears to use diayÆkh in a sense quite different from his
customary usage, stepping outside Israelite-Jewish cultic categories in
order to draw an analogy from Greco-Roman law, whose relevance
is anything but clear. Hahn argues that the solution to the puzzle
of Heb 9:16–17 is not to abandon the cultic-covenantal framework
of the author’s thought, with its close relationship between liturgy
4 introduction
and law, but to enter into that framework more deeply. If it is under-
stood that the context for these verses is the broken first (Sinaitic)
covenant mentioned in Heb 9:15, one can see that the author is
drawing out the legal implications of the liturgical ritual that estab-
lished the first covenant.
Elke Tönges brings an intertextual and form-critical lens to Hebrews.
By examining Hebrews’ many quotations, their introductory formu-
las, and their interpretation, and moreover, the text’s treatment of
theological themes and heroes from the Septuagint, Tönges argues
that the author and the audience are from a Jewish milieu. This
also finds expression in the exegetical method of the author, who
produces implicit and explicit midrash with his text. Therefore, she
concludes, Hebrews with its Sitz im Leben in the ancient synagogue
bears signs of structures known from the oldest homiletic midrashim.
Unlike later midrashim with messianic content in the rabbinic cor-
pus, Hebrews as a homiletic midrash in early form accredits mes-
sianic qualities exclusively to Christ. That is why Hebrews may be
called a “Jesus-Midrash.”
Gabriella Gelardini offers a form-critical, historical, and intertextual
analysis of Hebrews. She starts by acknowledging that Hebrews is
frequently categorized formally as an ancient synagogue homily with
its consequent Sitz im Leben within the Sabbath gathering. By con-
sidering the liturgical conventions in ancient production and recep-
tion aesthetics of synagogue homilies, she makes clear that Hebrews
must have functioned as the interpretation, teaching, and applica-
tion of a first reading from the Torah (sidrah) and a second reading
from the Prophets (haphtarah). Gelardini shows that the sidrah must
stem from Exod 31:18–32:35 (breaking of the covenant) and the
haphtarah from Jer 31:31–34 (covenant renewal). As is usual for homilies
conforming to the petichta type, the sidrah in the introduction of the
homily is not quoted but rather referred to in midrashic manner,
except that it quotes—as it should—the last verse prior to (or first
verse of ) the sidrah, namely Exod 31:17b in Heb 4:4. As expected,
the complementary haphtarah is quoted explicitly in the central part
of the homily. The fact that these readings appear so central for the
theme and structure of the homily, and moreover serve as its hermeneu-
tical key, does justice to the obvious importance and extraordinary
quantity of quotations from the lxx in Hebrews. The reconstructed
two readings are part of the liturgical reading cycle, the Palestinian
Triennial Cycle in early form, and both of them hint at the most
introduction 5
important day of fast in Jewish tradition, Tisha be-Av. This sugges-

tion is confirmed when the central quotations and the theological
concepts in Hebrews are compared with extra-biblical text and infor-
mation on Tisha be-Av.
Part Two, “Sociology, Ethics, and Rhetoric in Hebrews,” considers socio-
ethical matters in the first three contributions (Aitken, Backhaus,
Dunning) and rhetoric in the fourth contribution (Löhr).
Ellen Bradshaw Aitken explores Hebrews in political and ideological
terms. She sees the author of Hebrews as articulating resistance to
the imperial rule, ideology, and propaganda expressed in the events
and monuments surrounding the triumph of Vespasian and Titus,
a triumph bestowed upon them by the Roman Senate for their
victory in the First Jewish War and the destruction of Jerusalem in
70 ce. According to Aitken, the resistance is expressed by means of
Christology, by depicting to whom the “real” triumph belongs and
where the “real” temple is, and by promoting an ethic for the com-
munity that is consonant with the identity of the true triumphant
ruler and that values solidarity with those who are perceived to be
suffering under Flavian rule. The author’s use of the theology of the
Roman triumph is, moreover, an act of appropriating the religio-
political strategies of the oppressor for the community’s own ends;
it is likely that he thus empowers those who are dispossessed.
Knut Backhaus investigates the ethical concepts of Hebrews by means
of a sociology of knowledge. While there is widespread agreement
on the moral purpose of Hebrews, there is also some embarrassment
as to the particular form of such an ethos. If the main objection
against the ethical program of Hebrews, namely, that it contains
merely historical but no normative value, proves false, then the ques-
tion of the relationship of the ethical exhortations and the general
theology arises. Backhaus’ elaborate examination of semantics and
cultic and sociomorphic imagery in the paraenetical passages leads
him to the following conclusion: The general theological conception
of Hebrews legitimates the referential system that safeguards and
determines both the perception of reality and the self-understanding
of the community addressed. So the general theological conception
as well as the particular ethical instructions serve the same purpose,
i.e., the systematic and practical conceptualization of an interpreta-
tive sphere that protects the self-definition of the community from
the cognitive majority and the pressure of cultural assimilation and
enables the individual to internalize specifically Christian standards
6 introduction
of practice. It is this cognitive, normative, and emotional orientation

that is of ethical relevance, either directly in the biographical process
of the second socialization or indirectly by means of habitualization
and institutionalization.
Benjamin Dunning embarks upon a sociological reading of Hebrews
by drawing from observations of religious groups—especially Mormons
of 19th-century America. Mormons employed the rhetorical motif of
outsiderhood as a self-designation in order to build and maintain
social and religious identity. Dunning sees in Heb 11 and 13 tex-
tual traces of a similar dynamic. The rhetoric of alien identity found
in these chapters performs a specific function with respect to iden-
tity formation for the communities that put it to work: it allows cer-
tain groups of early Christians to conceptualize and maintain their
own distinctive insider status within the vast cultural field of socio-
cultic identities in the Roman Empire, while at the same time leav-
ing the issue of actual cultic practice in unresolved tension. This is
done paradoxically by using a rhetoric of outsider status, rooted in
a collective memory of Abraham and other great heroes of the faith.
Hermut Löhr pays attention to the rhetoric of Hebrews, investigat-
ing its semantics for rhetorical termini technici. The expressions that
catch his eye are kefãlaion (Heb 8:1), énagka›on (Heb 8:3), pr°pein
(Heb 2:10; 7:26), édÊnaton (Heb 6:4–8, 18; 10:4; 11:6), and Hebrews’
self-designation lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw (Heb 13:22). Even though
these terms do not offer any direct or unambiguous evidence for the
use of rhetorical handbooks by the author of Hebrews, it remains
striking to Löhr that the author uses words and phrases whose rhetor-
ical effect is to strengthen an argument by citing (pseudo-)logic or
other necessity, possibility, or appropriateness. The expressions em-
ployed not only reveal the author as rhetorically skilled, especially
in the sphere of argumentation, but point, moreover, to the field of
deliberative rhetoric.
Part Three, “Textual-Historical, Comparative, and Intertextual Approaches
to Hebrews,” begins with a study of the textual history of Hebrews
(Eisenbaum). The two essays that follow provide a comparison of
Hebrews with Paul (Georgi, Miller), after which it is compared with
Qoheleth on the question of authorship (Koosed and Seesengood).
Pamela M. Eisenbaum investigates the textual history of Hebrews in
the framework of new proposals regarding Christian/Jewish origin
and identity constructions. Her interest focuses specifically on the
“afterlife” of Hebrews in the papyri rather than on the origin of the
introduction 7
text, which allows her to contextualize the text within a literary land-
scape of early Christian texts. This investigation leads her to make
fresh suggestions about the authorship along with the occasion, the
date, and the addressees of Hebrews: Eisenbaum argues that the
author or scribal editor deliberately concealed his identity as an
implicit form of pseudonymity. Hebrews can be viewed as a quin-
tessential example of a “theological essay,” and thus its genre makes
more sense within the context of the early second century. And
finally, Hebrews is directed to an ideal audience imagined by the
author, and its “supersessionism” is possibly a desperate attempt to
construct anew a unique form of Judeo-Christian religiosity in which
Rome is the common enemy of Jews and believers in Jesus.
Dieter Georgi examines the problem of succession, namely, of Paul’s
heritage in Hebrews, in a typological as well as a historical way. He
starts out by reflecting on the topos of “school” in modern and ancient
times, and deconstructs the common hermeneutical supposition that
a school organized around a founder is something unitary. Georgi
considers this step necessary in order to prevent misleading histori-
cal interpretations of the fact that Hebrews is placed at the end of
the textual canon, an order that was only given in the third gener-
ation. With ∏46, one of the oldest manuscripts, Hebrews was placed
right after Romans, which offers a hermeneutical key: the author of
Hebrews, an independent member of the “Pauline school,” inter-
prets Paul, in particular Romans, so that righteousness, justification,
and Christology no longer function as points of polemics against or
division from Jewish tradition, but rather provide a common basis.
Thus, under the reign of Domitian and after the First Jewish War,
the author of Hebrews understands “his” Paul as a new offer for
synagogue and church in the Diaspora, not only for their survival
but also for their flourishing in a world that seemed overcome by
the powers of a demonized state.
In the stage of proof reading we were taken aback by the sud-
den death of Dieter Georgi on March 1, 2005. It is saddening that
this greatly esteemed scholar was prevented from participating in the
joy over the completion of this common book project. May his con-
tribution in this volume—it was his last one—add to the high stand-
ing he had and still has in the field of New Testament studies.
James C. Miller compares the undisputed Pauline writings with
Hebrews on the basis of the narrative worlds found in them. When
speaking of narratives, he is asking about the stories found in these
8 introduction
corpora that portray something of the “symbolic worlds” created by

the authors. The questions that guide his inquiry are as follows:
What events recounted in these writings form a meaningful sequence
of events? What characters take part in these events and in what
settings do they occur? Which of these stories constitute leading ele-
ments of a “narrative world” in these writings? In Miller’s recon-
struction of Hebrews’ narrative world he sees the overarching narrative
element as God’s speaking and promises to the people of God through-
out time. The four subplots are the story of the first and second
covenant, the story of Jesus, the story of God’s people in the past,
and the story of God’s people in the present. In Paul’s texts the
main narrative element seems to be God as the one sovereign cre-
ator. God’s creation has been corrupted by the entrance of sin and
death, but God, through Jesus Christ and the Spirit, is in the process
of setting all of creation aright. Adam and Jesus stand as pivotal
figures within this narrative. The three subplots are God’s people,
the story of Jesus, and the story of Paul himself. In comparing and
contrasting the two authors, Miller focuses particularly on the priest-
hood, the story of Jesus and the two covenants.
Jennifer L. Koosed and Robert P. Seesengood apply a combination of
newer approaches such as reader-response criticism, reception his-
tory, intertextuality and cultural criticism to the question of author-
ship for Qoheleth and for Hebrews. Koosed and Seesengood sketch
the main historical stages of scholarship, showing how the various
answers and constructions regarding authorship suited the interpreters’
particular interests. Though both texts are anonymous, Qoheleth was
long attributed to Solomon and Hebrews inter alia to Paul. This
imputed authorship may have been what “saved” these texts.
Nevertheless, it was philological analysis of both writings that even-
tually established the vast acceptance of the anonymity of these texts.
Koosed and Seesengood conclude that this move in the modern/post-
modern era may have served the needs of scholarship once again,
since the erasure of the author and tradition guaranteed the erasure
of authority.
Style and abbreviations in this volume conform to the guidelines

given in Patrick H. Alexander et al., eds., The SBL Handbook of Style:
For Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Early Christian Studies (3d ed.;
Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2003); abbreviations for works not
listed in The SBL Handbook of Style follow Siegfried M. Schwertner,
introduction 9
Internationales Abkürzungsverzeichnis für Theologie und Grenzgebiete [IATG2]:

Zeitschriften, Serien, Lexika, Quellenwerke mit bibliographischen Angaben (2d
rev. and enl. ed.; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992).
As editor I wish to express in conclusion my gratitude to several
individuals who supported this project and helped to bring it to a
successful end: First of all my thanks go to all authors in this volume,
for their participation and cooperation in providing what was needed
in due time, even when this required an extra effort in certain
instances. I wish also to thank Prof. Dr. Ekkehard W. Stegemann
(member of the Editorial Advisory Board of the Biblical Interpretation
Series) for suggesting and recommending, and one of the editors of
this series, R. Alan Culpepper, for accepting, the first proposal exclu-
sively dedicated to Hebrews in their series. I wish to thank Patrick
H. Alexander as well (Publishing Director, Brill Academic Publishers,
Inc.) for his sensitive supervision of this project; throughout the entire
process it was a delight working with him. I am especially grateful
to the copy editor of this volume, Catherine Playoust (Harvard
University). Her intelligent, professional, and very efficient work,
paired with a meticulous concern for details, was indispensable and
improved the quality of this volume greatly. And finally I acknowledge
with gratitude the support of the Freiwillige Akademische Gesellschaft,
Basel, whose financial contribution on behalf of this project was
essential.
College, seminary, and doctoral students, but also younger and
established scholars interested in Hebrews in general or in contem-
porary issues on Hebrews in particular, might enjoy the privilege of
having relevant essays on Hebrews compiled in one single book. To
my knowledge this is the first volume ever collecting essays on Hebrews
from different authors. In this sense—as was stated in the opening—
this volume is unique. May more follow in the future.
Gabriella Gelardini
Basel, Switzerland
January 2005
PART ONE
CULTIC LANGUAGE, CONCEPTS,

AND PRACTICE IN HEBREWS
DOES THE CULTIC LANGUAGE IN HEBREWS
REPRESENT SACRIFICIAL METAPHORS?
REFLECTIONS ON SOME BASIC PROBLEMS
Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann
Metaphysics—the white mythology which reassem-

bles and reflects the culture of the West: the white
man takes his own mythology, Indo-European
mythology, his own logos, that is, the mythos of
his idiom, for the universal form of that he must
still wish to call Reason.
Jacques Derrida1
1. Metaphors, History and Representation
The letter to the Hebrews seems to be a good example of the inter-

pretation of the death of Jesus in terms of sacrificial metaphors. We
speak of “metaphorical language” if a certain point of reference out-
side a document’s framework, in our case the crucifixion of Jesus,
is spoken of in terms that stem from the semantic field of cultic
sacrifices. The presupposition is that the historical referent here bears
no features of a cultic sacrifice. Let us explain this argument briefly
with regard to Hebrews.
It is not unknown to Hebrews that Jesus has been crucified (Heb
2:9; 6:6; 12:2). However, the document’s mentioning of the crucifixion
is rather marginal. Apart from a short notice about the loss of honor
(Heb 12:2, Íp°meinen staurÚn afisxÊnhw katafronÆsaw), which hints
at a typical idea connected with the crucifixion, other circumstances
of the death of Jesus do not play any significant role. In the center
of the document’s Christology the death of Christ is brought up in
terms of (atoning) sacrifices for sins, particularly modeled after the
atonement ritual at Yom Kippur (cf. Heb 9:11–14 which is con-
trasted with 9:7–10). Like the high priest who performs his atoning
1
Jacques Derrida, “White Mythology,” in Margins of Philosophy (Chicago: Chicago
University Press, 1982), 213.
14 ekkehard w. stegemann and wolfgang stegemann
ritual at Yom Kippur by passing through a tabernacle, Christ has

passed through the heavens (Heb 1:3; 4:14; 8:1) and is seated at the
right hand of the throne of the Majesty. In the heavenly tabernacle
he is now a minister (Heb 8:2). And just as every high priest is
appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices, so is Christ, as the heavenly
and true high priest (Heb 8:3). But unlike the earthly high priest,
who enters the second tent with the blood of goats and calves, Christ
steps into the greater and more perfect tabernacle with his own
blood, once and for all, obtaining an eternal redemption (Heb 9:12).
The death of Jesus which happened in Jerusalem is only one side
of the coin. The other side shows the cultic performance of the
exalted Christ, who offered himself in the true and heavenly tent as
a blameless victim to God. His atoning sacrifice will cleanse our con-
science from “dead works” (Heb 9:14).
There is no doubt that in Hebrews the semantic field of cultic
sacrifices vastly predominates over that of the execution of Jesus. In
his commentary on Hebrews, Martin Karrer therefore states with
good reason that in Hebrews the crucifixion recedes behind a theo-
logical interpretation of the death of Jesus (“Die Kreuzigung tritt
hinter der theologischen Deutung zurück”).2 The differentiation he
has in mind is a distinction between the death of Jesus due to a
Roman capital punishment and its theological interpretation in terms
of cultic language, mainly as an atoning sacrifice.
There is also no doubt that most New Testament scholars con-
sider the cultic language to be metaphorical. To say even more, no
other document of the New Testament seems to make a more com-
prehensive use of sacrificial metaphors with regard to the death of
Jesus than Hebrews. And nowhere else does the use of metaphori-
cal language seem to be as obvious as in this document.
Here it is not possible to discuss the different conceptions or the-
ories of metaphorical language. What interests us for the moment
can be best put in the following question: What are we doing by
calling the cultic language used in Hebrews metaphorical language?
The answer to this question is closely linked to how we see the
issue of historical representation, which is a certain topic within the
larger picture of an essentially realistic epistemology. This type of
2
Martin Karrer, Der Brief an die Hebräer: Kapitel 1,1–5,10 (ÖTKNT 20/1; Gütersloh:
Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2002), 59.
cultic language in hebrews 15
epistemology regards (historical) representation to be a reproduction

of an objective entity. In the German context of historical research
we call this objective entity “historischer Referent,” so the English
equivalent may be “point of historical reference” or simply “histor-
ical referent.” If the semantics of a text or a passage lacks any point
of historical reference outside the text, then the language is taken as
metaphorical. Transferring this idea to the sacrificial language of
Hebrews, the logic is as follows: since the sacrificial language regard-
ing the death of Jesus in Hebrews lacks any (historical) referent out-
side the text, there is no doubt that the document makes use of the
cultic language in a metaphorical way. On the contrary, the crucifixion
of Jesus in Jerusalem, which is taken as the historical referent out-
side the relevant passages in Hebrews, neither shows any feature of
the performance of a cultic sacrifice nor regards Jesus as a substi-
tute for an animal victim. Consequently, we draw the conclusion
that the sacrificial language of the textual passages in question is
metaphorical, and we take it as a means toward a theological under-
standing of the death of Christ.
And to say even more—the sacrificial language of Hebrews looks
like a very lucid example of a metaphorical interpretation of the
death of Jesus, since in this biblical document the offering of Christ
as the victim of the sacrificial ritual seems to take place in a heav-
enly sanctuary. Therefore, due to our epistemological paradigm, the
sacrifice of Christ can a priori be ruled out as a potential historical
referent, since from the perspective of our worldview heaven is no
place for historical events. But exactly this ontological presupposi-
tion of our scientific paradigm is instructive, because it reveals its
particular cultural perspective. Let us explain this argument a little
bit further.
1.1. Occidental Rationalism

Twenty years ago, Martin Hengel published a small book on early
Christian historiography which contains some principles concerning
the historical-critical method. One of them seems to be really post-
modern, if it is permissible to use this label with reference to a text
of Martin Hengel.
Hengel’s target here is Ernst Troeltsch’s assertion concerning the
“almighty” principle of analogy as a key to the critical procedure of
historiography. Troeltsch postulates a kind of sameness of all reality
which is transparent and available to all human beings regardless of

their culture or historical epoch. In the context of historiography this
means that everything in history is in principle of the same kind.
We don’t hesitate to underline Hengel’s response to this claim,
when he writes:3
Damit wird die . . . gegenwärtige Wirklichkeitserfahrung zum entschei-
denden Kriterium dafür gemacht, was in der Vergangenheit geschehen
sein kann und was nicht.
With that [premise] the present experience of reality gains the rank
of a definitive criterion for what may have happened in the past and
what may have not.
What is more, it is not only the aspect of time, the dominance of
the present time, that is at stake here. Hengel’s argument has to be
broadened. The system of measurement for the experience of reality
comes from a particular culture and its worldview, which guides our
decisions about what is false and what is true. Specifically, it comes
from the European or Western culture, which invented the “Western
episteme” (Michel Foucault). Or, to mention some other labels,
because nowadays we have a lot of labels for this particular epistemol-
ogy, we can call this culture-bound epistemological paradigm “Eurocen-
trism” and “logocentrism,” like Derrida, who puts both labels together
in his Of Grammatology. He also coined the phrase “white mythology,”
which in many aspects seems to point to the same features of the
epistemology of the West for which Jürgen Habermas coined the
phrase “occidental rationalism.” Whichever label is used, behind it
lies a shared insight about the loss of the absoluteness and universal
validity of the Western epistemological paradigm, which started its
dominance with the Enlightenment. Robert Young puts it well in
his inspiring book, White Mythologies: Writing History and the West, which
considers the “self-consciousness about a culture’s own historical rel-
ativity” as a characteristic feature of Postmodernism. He writes:4
Postmodernism itself could be said to mark . . . the sense of the loss of
European history and culture as History and Culture, the loss of their
unquestioned place at the centre of the world. We could say that if,
according to Foucault, the centrality of “Man” dissolved at the end of
3
Martin Hengel, Zur urchristlichen Geschichtsschreibung (2d ed.; Stuttgart: Calwer,
1984), 107.
4
Robert Young, White Mythologies: Writing History and the West (London: Routledge,
1990; 2d ed. 2004), 20.
the eighteenth century as the “Classical Order” gave way to “History,”

today at the end of the twentieth century, as “History” gives way to
the “Postmodern,” we are witnessing the dissolution of “the West.”
1.2. The Epistemological Paradigm of the West Distinguishes Between the

brutum factum historicum and its Interpretation
The underlying historical paradigm deserves another critical obser-
vation. Recall Martin Karrer’s statement quoted above, in which he
makes a distinction between the crucifixion of Jesus as a historical
event and its additional theological interpretation in terms of sacrifices.
And perhaps so do we all. So it’s not our intention to blame Martin
Karrer for a supposedly problematic distinction but to make us all
a little bit more aware of an epistemological premise we all take for
granted.
First of all: This type of scientific paradigm assumes that we are
generally able to distinguish between a historical event and its later
interpretation. In other words, this strategy of argumentation pre-
supposes the existence of something like a brutum factum from which
we can discern its subsequent interpretation. In our case, the brutum
factum is the death of Jesus due to his crucifixion by Roman soldiers.
The interpretation is the understanding of this death as an atoning
sacrifice. And because the historical referent lacks any feature of a
real cultic sacrificial ritual, the interpretation must be a theological
and metaphorical one. But is there really any such thing as a pure
historical fact, a brutum factum historicum, a kind of historical thing-in-
itself, without interpretation and influences of the cultural and indi-
vidual idiosyncrasies of the historian?
Secondly: This type of scientific paradigm does not take into con-
sideration that the so-called brutum factum cannot be perceived with-
out the use of language and therefore within the setting or patterns
of a certain culture. It is our suspicion that there is no such thing
as a brutum factum historicum, because two elements are always required
for the process of historical research: the historical data; and the
historian, whose perception of the data as well as his interpretation
is inevitably culture-bound. In our—and by this is meant here the
Westerners’—understanding of reality, the perception of the death
of Jesus on the cross as a so-called real historical event only allows
for political, social, forensic, or psychological dimensions of its rep-
resentation. Other forms of representing his death, such as in terms
of an atoning sacrifice, appear in our spectrum of perceptions a priori
as an additional and metaphorical interpretation, or, to reactivate a

former notion, as mythical.
So we conclude: The decision between a metaphorical and a non-
metaphorical interpretation of the death of Jesus depends on our
assessment of the historical referent to which a textual passage is
related. Therefore it depends on the respective model of reality that,
as far as our model is concerned, we take as universally valid. We
easily admit that the metaphorical use of sacrificial language is very
helpful and deepens our interpretation of the crucifixion—but just
as interpretation of the crucifixion, not its representation. On the con-
trary, the discourses of the social and legal aspects of the crucifixion
of Jesus in Jerusalem are in our view not interpretations of the his-
torical events but their representation.
Our question was: What are we doing by calling the cultic lan-
guage in Hebrews metaphorical? As a quite global answer we would
say: we are demythologizing the relevant texts by reading them as
metaphors, which means we are reducing them to the “rationalistic”
standards of our culture. On the other side, how does our reading
change if we take the cultic discourse in Hebrews as non-metaphor-
ical? What follows from this for the main subjects of this discourse?
The next section will give some answers to these questions.
2. Some Basic Ideas in Hebrews
2.1. The Way from Earth to Heaven’s Sanctuary Through the Self-Sacrifice
of Christ
Our thesis is that the cultic language of Hebrews is not metaphor-
ical and does not substitute for a real meaning of the death of Christ
but speaks of Christ as the real high priest and of his death as a
real sacrifice. Hebrews thus distinguishes between two cults, the
earthly cult (that means the cult in Jerusalem) and the heavenly one.
And by making comparisons between them, the author of Hebrews
underlines at the same time what is incomparable. The intention is
to emphasize that through the self-sacrifice of the high priest Jesus
Christ, the heavenly cult is surpassing the earthly cult, which is only
“a shadowy copy”5 of it. This means there is a surpassing role for
5
Harold W. Attridge, Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia;
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 216.
Christ as the eternal high priest in heaven, a surpassing sacrifice (i.e.,

the death of Christ the sinless high priest as self-sacrifice), a sur-
passing sacrificial act (“once and for all”), a surpassing sacrificial
effect (perfect and lasting atonement of sins), and a surpassing place
for the cult (earth and heaven or, better, from earth to heaven). The
concept of comparing the two cults includes not only underlining
the contrasts between them as qualitative differences, but also the
earthly cult’s role as prefigurement and at the same time shadow; it
is ÍpÒdeigma and skiã (Heb 8:5), a “shadowy copy,” and ént¤tupa
t«n élhyin«n (Heb 9:24), a “copy of what is real or true.”6
Attridge rightly hinted at the Platonic language or motif here. This
“Platonizing”7 concept seems to have an analogy in the basic (sote-
riological) concept of Hebrews. The Platonic and especially the
Philonic8 version of the ascent or rise of the soul from the sensible
to the ideal world, however, does not occur as such. Rather Hebrews’
concept is that Christ as the heavenly Son of God arrived in the
world (Heb 10:5) and returned to heaven by offering his body (Heb
10:10) on earth. This death is the true and unique sacrifice once
and for all, the true and unique effective or perfect atonement of
sins, and, most importantly for our thesis, the removal of the sepa-
ration between earth and heaven. By re-entering the heavenly sanc-
tuary after and through his death, Christ became the forerunner
(Heb 6:20), the prÒdromow, of all who as believers have been and
will be perfectly atoned for by his self-sacrifice. Thus, Christ has
“inaugurated” the way and the believers have the parrhs¤a, the
confidence, in this access to the heavenly sanctuary (Heb 10:19–22).
The death of Christ on earth has removed the demarcation between
heaven and earth. The earth is now open to heaven, or the way on
earth is now paved for those sanctified by his blood as a living way
to heaven. However, only Christ himself has taken this way already
and has arrived in the heavenly sanctuary to worship as high priest
at the presence of God; thus he has found for himself, or arrived
at, eternal redemption (Heb 9:12). He has already overcome or made
his way through the veil that separates the heavenly sanctuary from
earth (the commentary “that is his flesh” in Heb 10:19–20 may well
6
Translations follow Attridge, Hebrews, 216, 260, 263.
7
Attridge, Hebrews, 263. Cf. Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer (3 vols.; EKKNT 17;
Zürich: Benziger and Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997), 2:190–193.
8
See Philo, Opif. 71.
hint at his death, so that either the flesh is the veil that has been
overcome by Christ through his death and has to be overcome by
the believers by their death or at the moment of the second appear-
ance of Christ, or “the flesh” is an abbreviation for the sacrificial
death as such). But the way for the believers to heaven “has not yet
been manifested” (Heb 9:8, see below) as long as the creation, the
world, exists. Since the second tabernacle on earth, the sanctissimum,
is a shadowy copy and prefiguration of the heavenly sanctuary, heaven
itself is the sanctuary. But there is just one single room there (Heb
9:8), with the throne of God and no courts. The earth is, so to
speak, the court, separated from the heavenly sanctuary by a veil
(“the flesh”?), through which Christ has already gone his way to
heaven. On the earth, but outside the gate, stands the altar, the
yusiastÆrion (Heb 13:10–12). So the believers do not have here a
polis which remains, but are seeking for the future one in heaven
(Heb 13:14). The believers’ way to heaven on earth is inaugurated
through Christ, but now they have to bear his reproach outside (Heb
13:13) and lead their life as already sanctified inhabitants of heaven.
And since there is no sacrifice on earth any more for them (and
perhaps in Jerusalem, too, literally, for the temple has been already
abolished?), their way of life, their conduct, and their belief are like
a sacrifice. Only here does the author metaphorically apply the cultic
language (Heb 13:15–16), as for example Paul does in his letters.
2.2. The Perfect and Lasting Atonement Includes the Cleansing of the
Conscience
Connected with this basic cultic idea of the way from earth to heaven
is the idea of the two covenants. The superior ministry of Christ
makes him the mediator of the greater or better covenant (Heb 8:6),
announced in Jer 31. The key verses of this chapter, namely Jer
31:33–34 (as indicated by their repetition in Heb 10:16–17), refer to
the concept of perfection and perpetuity of sanctification, which pre-
supposes the total removal of sins, the periele›n (Heb 10:11) or
éfaire›n (Heb 10:4), including the cleansing of the conscience/con-
sciousness of sins (Heb 10:2). In the old covenant there was neither
a perfect nor a lasting atonement. The sins were not taken away
since the blood of animals was not able to do it (Heb 10:4). And
the fact that there was no cessation of offering indicates the lack of
cleansing of the conscience, so that Yom Kippur is, rather, a yearly
remembrance of sins (Heb 10:3). The new covenant, however, includes

the internalizing of the laws and the notion that God will not remem-
ber their sins and iniquities any longer. What has the cleansing or
perfection of conscience, sune¤dhsiw, in common with these essen-
tials of the new covenant? First of all, as Attridge rightly says: “The
reference to remembrance of sins under the old covenant contrasts
with the promise that they will be forgotten under the new,”9 or,
more precisely, that they will not be remembered (Heb 8:12; 10:17).
Remembrance of sins by God obviously has an anthropological aspect,
namely a “bad conscience” (Heb 10:22). Conversely, a “good con-
science” (Heb 13:18), that is, a conscience cleansed from a bad con-
science, has a theological aspect: God does not remember the sins,
since they are perfectly removed. As Philo says in Det. 146, the mes-
sage of God is sent into the heart and mirrored in the conscience.
And secondly, the internalizing of the laws, their being written on
the hearts and minds, transposes the laws into the most internal and
conscious part of the human being: heart and mind, which build
the conscience. There is no external education necessary any longer,
no external threat of punishment nor promise of reward or praise.
So the first covenant’s offerings are unable katå sune¤dhsin telei«sai
tÚn latreÊonta (Heb 9:9), that is, they are not able “to perfect in
conscience the person who ministers.”10 In other words, in respect
of or with regard to his conscience (katå sune¤dhsin) they do not
lead to perfection, for the “bad conscience” remains as an indica-
tion of the non-remission of sins. Inside the person or as God’s inter-
nal message to him he is aware or conscious of the inability of the
offerings in regard to the perfect or total atonement or cleansing.
The sins are not taken away and God is remembering them. Thus
the conscience of sins (Heb 10:2) is just the inward equivalent of the
external practice of sacrificial repetition.
3. Two Exegetical Details (Heb 9)
Hebrews 9:1–10 alludes to the yearly Yom Kippur and its inability
to take away sins. In connection with the rite wherein the high priest
enters the second tabernacle only once a year, Heb 9:8–10 comments:
9
Attridge, Hebrews, 272.
10
“The Holy Spirit signifies that the way into the sanctuary has not
yet been revealed while the first tabernacle maintains its standing,
which is a symbol for the present time, according to which gifts and
sacrifices are offered which are unable to perfect in conscience the
person who ministers, (being) only fleshly ordinances, about foods
and drinks and various ablutions imposed until a time of correc-
tion.”11 What does “while the first tabernacle maintains its standing”
mean? First of all, we agree that this verse should not be related to
the destruction of the temple. But if the second tabernacle symbol-
izes the heavenly sanctuary and the high priest’s entrance into it
once a year symbolizes Christ’s entering once and for all into the
heavenly sanctuary, which is part of “the greater and more perfect
tabernacle, which is not manufactured, that is, not of this creation”
(Heb 9:11–12),12 then we suggest that the “stasis of the first taber-
nacle” means the existence of “this creation.” The perfect passive
pefaner«syai of the verb fanerÒv in Heb 9:8 therefore could be
translated by “has not yet been revealed,” in the sense of “has not
yet appeared, has not yet been manifested publicly” (as Christ has
already appeared or has been manifested for the abolition of sin; cf.
pefan°rvtai in Heb 9:26). The access of the way is opened by
Christ’s sacrifice and he has already arrived in the sanctuary of the
“greater tabernacle,” but as long as the created world exists this
access has not been manifested to the believers. This will take place
when Christ “will a second time appear, apart from sin [that is,
without atonement, since his death at the first appearance is atone-
ment once and for all] (and) for salvation, to those who await him”
(Heb 9:28).13 Christ himself will take them on the way to heaven
which he has opened for them by his death, that is, by the remov-
ing of sins and by sanctifying them. So even if the “first tabernacle
maintains (still) its stasis,” the “time of correction” (Heb 9:10) already
has come with the first appearance of Christ. The “fleshly ordi-
nances” concerning foods and so on have been abrogated and the
written laws have been substituted, corrected by the new covenant
written on the hearts and minds of the believers.
Hebrews often contrasts the perpetuity and perfection of Christ’s
self-sacrifice to the sacrificial activity of the first covenant (cf. Heb
11
Attridge, Hebrews, 230–231.
12
13
10:1, efiw tÚ dihnek¢w oÈd°pote dÊnatai toÁw proserxom°nouw telei«sai;

Heb 10:14, miò går prosforò tetele¤vken efiw tÚ dihnek¢w toÁw ègia-
zom°nouw). Astounding, however, is the future tense kayarie› in Heb
9:14: he will cleanse the conscience from dead works, so that we
might serve the living God. Of course it is possible to translate the
future tense with a present tense.14 The logic presupposed by this
interpretation is as follows: if the blood of animals sanctifies (in the
past and now), how much more can and should and will (from the
point of view of the effect of the animals’ blood) and does (at pre-
sent) the blood of Christ sanctify. But the indicative of the future
tense could be an expression of the “pure future” of an activity,
either of a lasting activity (I shall continue to do something) or of
an event which will take place at some point in the future (e.g., our
body shall undergo a transfiguration once in the future, but this has
not yet taken place). If we apply these meanings to Heb 9:14, it is
clear that the first one makes better sense, since the removing of
sins has taken place. But is the cleansing of the conscience already
perfect? In Heb 9:14 it says not the conscience of “sins” (as in Heb
10:2), but the cleansing of the conscience of “dead works.” Maybe
the author reckons with the possibility of remains, of relics of sins
of the past in the conscience, which accompany their life until the
end of time. Maybe the author reckons with a long life repenting,
a metano¤aw épÚ nekr«n ¶rgvn (Heb 6:1), initiated by the starting of
belief in Christ and not ceasing before the end of creation.
Prof. Dr. theol. Ekkehard W. Stegemann

Ordinarius für Neues Testament
Universität Basel, Theologische Fakultät
Nadelberg 10, CH-4051 Basel, Switzerland
[email protected]
Prof. Dr. theol. Wolfgang Stegemann

Lehrstuhl für Neues Testament
Augustana-Hochschule
Waldstrasse 11, D-91564 Neuendettelsau, Germany
[email protected]
14
As is done by Attridge, Hebrews, 244.
SOME REMARKS ON HEBREWS FROM THE
VIEWPOINT OF OLD TESTAMENT EXEGESIS
Ina Willi-Plein
The Epistle to the Hebrews presupposes the cultic concept of the

ot Endgestalt and its interpretation by written and oral tradition.1
Concepts of cultic space, ritual performance, priestly service, and the
function of sacrifice were developed throughout the history of ot
Israel from the very beginning of Israelite settlement and still after
the end of the Second Temple period. Before assuming that the
Epistle is speaking “metaphorically,” one should know the “basic”
idea(s) of the cultic system precisely, but there are still many ques-
tions left for discussion by ot scholars. Among others, at least the
following main problems should be mentioned:
(1) The semantic diversity and complex history of what we use to

subsume under the title of ot “sacrifice”;2
1
The following observations will not include the problem of the old/new covenant
(Heb 8:13). For this, and above all for the assumption that the Epistle to the
Hebrews has to be interpreted as a text for Jewish (which need not mean non-
Christian) addressees, cf. Frank Crüsemann, “Der neue Bund im Neuen Testament:
Erwägungen zum Verständnis des Christusbundes in der Abendmahlstradition und
im Hebräerbrief,” in Mincha: Festgabe für Rolf Rendtorff zum 75. Geburtstag (ed. Erhard
Blum; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2000). On p. 53, Crüsemann makes ref-
erence to Erich Grässer (An die Hebräer [3 vols.; EKKNT 17; Zürich: Benziger Verlag
and Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997], 1:41), who remarks that noth-
ing is against the “Gleichursprünglichkeit von Brief und Überschrift.”
2
Cf. the considerations in Ina Willi-Plein, Opfer und Kult im alttestamentlichen Israel:
Textbefragungen und Zwischenergebnisse (SBS 153; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1993),
25–28, with the enumeration of three possible answers to the question of what
sacrifice (Opfer) “is”: a gift; a meal prepared by humans for God or in his presence
(cf. Alfred Marx, Les offrandes végétales dans l’Ancien Testament: Du tribut d’hommage au
repas eschatologique [VTSup 57; Leiden: Brill, 1994]); or a performance of world real-
ity as it is or should be. The problem results from the fact that in Hebrew a gen-
eral term for the various kinds of what we would call sacrifice does not exist. The
only general term in Hebrew for sacrificial performances seems to be qorban ˆbrq
(also in the nt: Matt 27:6; Mark 7:11), “coming near,” which implies a concept of
space with the throne in its center. Friedhelm Hartenstein calls this “Symbolik des
26 ina willi-plein
(2) Israelite mental conceptions of cultic space (holy places, build-

ings, correspondence of earth and heaven, etc.),3 in both hori-
zontal and vertical dimensions;
(3) The “mental iconography”4 of divine presence in the cult, or the
problem of human access to the royal palace (throne/abode) of
God. What does it mean in this context that God is in heaven,
and we are on earth, but also, that divine Presence (hnykv )5 is
located in his “dwelling place” (ˆkvm) in the sanctuary (with its
two focal points of the altar of burnt offering and the inner room
of the holy of holies) while his throne is in heaven? This leads
immediately to the next point.
(4) The role and function of human participants in cultic perfor-
mances (priests, temple staff, individual making an offering, com-
munity). If priests are seen as servants organized in some kind
of functional hierarchy with the high priest at the top, and if the
latter may be seen on the mental background of palatial service,
then the priests’ function is a double one: service before the heav-
enly King, and communication between “outside” and “inside”
or—which is not the same—between human and divine. From
‘Zentrums’”: Friedhelm Hartenstein, Die Unzugänglichkeit Gottes im Heiligtum: Jesaja 6

und der Wohnort JHWHs in der Jerusalemer Kulttradition (WMANT 75; Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1997), 22–23. Christian Eberhart (Studien zur Bedeutung der Opfer
im Alten Testament: Die Signifikanz von Blut- und Verbrennungsriten im kultischen Rahmen
[WMANT 94; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2002]) presumes a general (seman-
tic) meaning of all sacrificial lexemes as “gift.” However, Rainer Kessler questions
with good reason “ob man wirklich gut daran tut, mit Christian Eberhart ‘Die
Bedeutung der Opfer im Alten Testament’ ergründen zu wollen”: Rainer Kessler,
“Die Theologie der Gabe bei Maleachi,” in Das Manna fällt auch heute noch: Beiträge
zur Geschichte und Theologie des Alten, Ersten Testaments: Festschrift für Erich Zenger (ed.
Frank-Lothar Hossfeld et al.; HBS 44; Freiburg i. Br.: Herder, 2004), 404–405.
3
Cf. several publications of Friedhelm Hartenstein, e.g., besides idem, Unzugänglichkeit,
esp. 22 (and passim) and 44 (and passim), also idem, “‘Der im Himmel thront,
lacht’ (Ps 2,4),” in Gottessohn und Menschensohn: Exegetische Studien zu zwei Paradigmen
biblischer Intertextualität (ed. Dieter Sänger; BThSt 67; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener,
2004), esp. 169–170.
4
For this term, which was introduced to ot discussion by Tryggve N. D. Mettinger,
No Graven Image? Israelite Aniconism in Its Ancient Near Eastern Context (ConBOT 42;
Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1995), esp. 20 (with n. 25), see Friedhelm Hartenstein,
Das “Angesicht JHWHs:” Studien zu seinem höfischen und kultischen Bedeutungshintergrund in
den Psalmen und in Exodus 32–34 (Habil. theol., Marburg, 2000; FAT; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, forthcoming), 7 (with n. 35).
5
See Bernd Janowski, “‘Ich will in eurer Mitte wohnen.’ Struktur und Genese
der exilischen Schekina-Theologie,” in idem, Gottes Gegenwart in Israel (Beiträge zur
Theologie des Alten Testaments 1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1993), 119–147.
the viewpoint of old testament exegesis 27
the human point of view, the priests are mediators who bring
the community’s need to God; but with regard to their service
in the presence of God, they are paying homage to the almighty
King.
(5) What, then, is the supposed (main) purpose and the special need
of cult, sacrifice, and ritual? Or, with regard to Hebrews (or to
the final shape of the ot and to early Judaism), what is the major
aim: to overcome sin or to worship?
Out of the set of ideas that seem to constitute the cultic system of
the final stage of ot texts, Hebrews seems to prioritize the heavenly
sanctuary, the office of the high priest, the cultic performance of the
Day of Atonement,6 and the application of blood in the holy of
holies. Why precisely these elements seemed to be fitting as basic
elements for the new (christological) system presented in Hebrews
has to be discussed by nt scholars. Nevertheless, from the point of
view of ot exegesis, we may offer some background information and
ask some questions.
What strikes an exegete of the ot at first glance is the extraordi-

nary importance of Psalm interpretation for the theological argument
of Hebrews, together with its persistent use of the rhetorical device
of comparative amplification (a minori ad maius).
6
For ot study on rpk and the Day of Atonement, cf. fundamentally Bernd
Janowski, Sühne als Heilsgeschehen: Traditions- und religionsgeschichtliche Studien zur Sühnetheologie
der Priesterschrift (2d rev. and enl. ed.; WMANT 55; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener,
2000); Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary
(AB 3; New York: Doubleday, 1991), esp. 1009–1084; and the recent study of Rolf
Rendtorff, “Erwägungen zu kipper in Leviticus 16,” in Manna, 499–510. About the
scapegoat: Bernd Janowski and Gernot Wilhelm, “Der Bock, der die Sünden hin-
austrägt. Zur Religionsgeschichte des Azazel-Ritus Lev 16,10.21f.,” in Religionsgeschichtliche
Beziehungen zwischen Kleinasien, Nordsyrien und dem Alten Testament: Internationales Symposion
Hamburg 17.–20. März 1990 (ed. Bernd Janowski, Klaus Koch and Gernot Wilhelm;
OBO 129; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993), 109–169; Bernd Janowski,
“Azazel und der Sündenbock: Zur Religionsgeschichte von Leviticus 16,10.21f. (I
1993. II 1990),” in idem, Gottes Gegenwart, 285–302; and most recently, Dominic
Rudman, “A Note on the Azazel-goat Ritual,” ZAW 116 (2004): 396–401. Janowski
(“Azazel und der Sündenbock”) concludes that the term lzaz[l after a rather com-
plicated linguistic and semantic development meant “for the elimination of (a?) god’s
anger.”
28 ina willi-plein
(1) During pre-Sinaitic times the status of the angels is surpassed by

that of the Son (Heb 1, referring to Pss 2:7; 97:7; 14:4 lxx; 45:7
lxx, etc.). In Heb 2:6–8, this is deduced from, or demonstrated
by, an exegesis of Ps 8.
(2) During the period that was initiated by the revelation on Mount
Sinai, Moses’ authority as a legislator is surpassed by the Son’s
legal authority (Num 12:7 lxx). In Heb 3 and 4:1–3, this is
deduced from, or demonstrated by, the interpretation of Ps 95.
(3) After this series of comparative amplifications, the central theme
of the epistle is how communication takes place between Israel
and God in the period after Sinai and before the eschatological
fulfillment. It is performed in the cult that was established on
Mount Sinai and is executed by the priests in the tabernacle and
the temple. So the core of priestly service seems to be the ritual
of atonement by which the communication disrupted by human
sin can be restored so that divine forgiveness may be granted.
Hebrews shares the mental conception of cult that characterizes ot

texts—at least those of exilic and post-exilic origin (especially Malachi)—
namely, the concept of an audience before the great King’s throne,
during which one has the opportunity to make a request and to find
favor. In this context, homage and gift7 are of great importance.
If the temple or the tabernacle is seen as a palace of the King
to whose throne the requests of his human subjects are brought,
then an introduction needs to be performed by palatial guides, that
is, by appointed priests and especially the high priest. Priesthood
(flervsÊnh) for the earthly sanctuary was entrusted to the tribe of
Levi, although in Gen 14 King Melchizedek is in transparent dis-
guise presented as a pre-Sinaitic priest of Jerusalem whose priest-
hood was approved by Abraham’s tithe.
In this connection the vertical concept of space, with its corre-
spondence between earthly and heavenly sanctuary, assumes great
importance. Since Jerusalem is the place where God will put his
name, the place of his residence (ˆkvm) where his Presence (hnykv ) is
experienced, it is the very place of transition (imagined in a verti-
7
However, we would not agree with Eberhart (Bedeutung der Opfer, passim) that
every sacrifice is a gift.
cal axis)8 and access to God’s throne in heaven—the true aim of

every cult.
The connection between earthly and heavenly sanctuary is not
metaphorical, but may rather be described as “real presence.” By
amplification of reality the throne in heaven corresponds to the throne
of the Cherubim with the kapporet as a propitiatory (fllastÆrion). That
is why the minister (leitourgÒw) in heaven corresponds to and at the
same time surpasses the earthly high priest: Levitical priesthood is
surpassed by Christ’s priesthood.
Again, this can only be deduced from, or demonstrated by, the
interpretation of a Psalm, in this case Ps 90:4. The decisive argu-
ment is the reference to the pre-Sinaitic priest Melchizedek as a
priest without genealogy: exactly because Melchizedek was no Levite,
it is the christological reference to the non-Levite Christ that proves
the latter to be the heavenly high priest (Heb 8:3). For the Psalm
addresses him as a high priest, although he is descended from the
tribe of Judah and therefore cannot be a high priest on earth.
But is there really gradual increase (in the sense of a climax) in
the series of amplifying arguments? Is it more important that Christ
surpasses Aaron or the high priest than that he surpasses Moses,
while at the same time one can realize “that Aaron’s authority is
confined to the sanctuary and even there, . . . he is still subject to
the higher authority of Moses”?9 Of course not. It is Aaron’s min-
istry in the sanctuary that is surpassed by Christ’s. Since the service
done by the high priest culminates in the ritual of the Day of
Atonement, we have to examine that ritual; since the author of
Hebrews is doing theology by interpreting Scripture, the main task
will be to read the central text of Lev 16, which is the only bibli-
cal text dealing with the Day of Atonement.
8
Cf. the idea of the vertical cosmic axis in Babylon and also in Israel, as demon-
strated by Friedhelm Hartenstein, Unzugänglichkeit, esp. 56, 111 (and passim); and
idem, “Wolkendunkel und Himmelsfeste: Zur Genese und Kosmologie des himm-
lischen Heiligtums JHWHs,” in Das biblische Weltbild und seine altorientalischen Kontexte
(ed. Bernd Janowski and Beate Ego; 2d ed.; FAT 32; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
2004), esp. 145–148.
9
Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 57.
30 ina willi-plein
In the last two or three decades, much exegetical investigation has

been done on this subject,10 and especially on two main questions:
(1) What is “atonement” (rpk Pi'el ) and what relation does it have
to “sin,” “sin-offering” (taFj), and “sacrifice” in general?
(2) What is the precise task of the scapegoat and the etymological
and semantic meaning of Azazel ?
To begin with the latter, Janowski’s11 considerations on Azazel seem

after all to come nearest to a probable explanation, and at the same
time they seem to prove the “foreign” (Anatolian) origin of the rit-
ual. It is the youngest element12 of the rather young ritual of the
youngest ot holiday. Perhaps it is a finishing touch, inspired by con-
tact with post-Hittite ritual specialists (who made a deep impression
on many members of Ancient Near Eastern societies). The ritual of
the day could work without the scapegoat, and so it is not discon-
certing that Hebrews does not mention it.
As we have seen above, the main task of a high priest is to main-
tain communication with God. This is the case on Yom Kippur,
too. The main point is Aaron’s or the high priest’s entering the holy
of holies and thus getting access to the throne, “for in the cloud I
will be seen above the kapporet” (Lev 16:2).13 This is why Aaron
has to “put the incense on the fire before the Lord so that the cloud
from the incense covers the kapporet . . . lest he die” (Lev 16:13).14
10
See the bibliography noted above on rpk, the Day of Atonement, and the
scapegoat. With regard to the festival calendar, etc., see also Corinna Körting, Der
Schall des Schofar: Israels Feste im Herbst (BZAW 285; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999).
11
Janowski, “Azazel und der Sündenbock.”
12
By this remark I partially revoke my own view given in Willi-Plein, Opfer und
Kult, 104–107.
13
Cf. Milgrom’s discussion of the cloud (Leviticus 1–16, 1024), and for the prob-
lem of “seeing” God: Friedhelm Hartenstein, “Die unvergleichliche ‘Gestalt’ JHWHs:
Israels Geschichte mit den Bildern im Licht von Deuteronomium 4,1–40,” in Die
Sichtbarkeit des Unsichtbaren: Zur Korrelation von Text und Bild im Wirkungskreis der Bibel:
Tübinger Symposion (ed. Bernd Janowski and Nino M. Zchomelidse; Arbeiten zur
Geschichte und Wirkung der Bibel 3; Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2004),
esp. 50 (with n. 6). The problem has also been discussed in Hartenstein, “‘Angesicht
JHWHs.’”
14
The translation here and in the following is taken or at least adapted from
Milgrom’s in Leviticus 1–16.
The kapporet is the point of intersection of heaven and earth in the

sanctuary.15
Aaron has to change his clothes before beginning the ritual of the
day. Several explanations for the use of the special linen garments,
which are called “sacral vestments” (Lev 16:32), have been given in
tradition;16 the most plausible one is “that the angels were dressed
in linen, see Ezek 9:2–3, 11; 10:2; Dan 10:6; cf. Mal 2:7”17—it is
not improbable that Malachi may be dated to the same period as
the composition of Lev 16.
When entering the adyton, Aaron thus enters the place of access
to heaven; therefore he has to wear the same garments as the ser-
vants in heaven. After the central ceremony of atonement, when
returning to the “ordinary” service of the sanctuary by sacrificing
the burnt offerings for himself and for the people (Lev 16:24), which
are “effecting atonement for himself and for the people,” he has to
change his clothes again. This shows that atonement is also part of
everyday-service, which now (from Lev 16:23 onwards)18 can start
again. The two assistants who had to take away the ceremonial detri-
tus (the scapegoat and the carcasses of the sin-offerings of priests
and people) may—after ceremonial purification—“reenter the camp”
(Lev 16:28).
The passage Lev 16:29–31 then impresses the date and charac-
ter of the day, and Lev 16:32 makes sure that the genealogical suc-
cession will be followed. Leviticus 16:33–34 gives a short summary:
the objects19 for making atonement are the sanctuary (in the sense
of the holy of holies?), the tent of meeting, and the altar of burnt
offering; the persons concerned (those who benefit from the act of
atonement) are the priests and “all the people of the congregation.”
All this shows clearly that the purpose of the special ritual of the
day is the “repair” of communication with God that has been endan-
gered by contamination of the sacred place and persons. The con-
tamination is removed by the special sin-offerings of the special
ceremony in which Aaron acts as a heavenly servant in the inner
room of God’s house. To be able to do so, he has to bring the
15
Willi-Plein, Opfer und Kult, esp. 108.
16
We will not discuss here their historical (Egyptian?) origin.
17
Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 1016.
18
Or perhaps after the general conclusion in Lev 16:20.
19
Cf. Rendtorff ’s important observations in “Erwägungen zu kipper” on the use
of the different prepositions.
32 ina willi-plein
blood of the sin-offering for himself and after that also the blood
of the sin-offering for the people into the adyton and to apply it to
the kapporet. He can only do so because the kapporet is covered by
the cloud of incense. The general clause Lev 16:16 clearly pro-
nounces the purpose of all this: “He shall rPk what is holy of the
pollutions of the sons of Israel and of their transgressions regarding
all their sins.”
What distinguishes the ceremony from other sin-offerings is not
the means but the purpose: to repair “the tent of meeting that abides
(or: of him who abides?) with them in the midst of their pollution.”
So rpk Pi'el seems to designate an action of repair or purgation.20
It is complemented by the scapegoat ceremony with the general con-
fession of “all the iniquities and transgressions of the Israelites, regard-
ing all their sins” (Lev 16:21): the scapegoat is used as a transportation
vehicle21 to remove all “detritus” to the desert, the area of chaos,
away from the camp where the tent of meeting grants communica-
tion with God. As for the scapegoat itself, it is the remnant of the
election of one goat out of two for the sin-offering of the people.22
“The purpose of the lots is clearly to leave the selection of the ani-
mals23 to the Lord.”24
Aaron enters the adyton by (means of ) a bull as a sin-offering and
a ram for a burnt offering (Lev 16:3). The addressees of the text
know what a sin-offering is: it may be performed on various occa-
sions, and it is always a ceremony showing, or rather performing25
20
Here I follow Milgrom rather than Janowski, although the ceremony may still
be summarized as “Sühne als Heilsgeschehen.” Heb 9:11–14, too, speaks of purgation!
21
Willi-Plein, Opfer und Kult, 106 (so the scapegoat is used for an elimination ritual).
22
The casting of lots is here (and often) a technique of binary choice: “for the
Lord” versus “not for the Lord.” The meaning of “Azazel” does not matter for the
context, but certainly it is not the name of a demon.
23
We would prefer the singular: “the animal.”
24
Cf. Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 1020.
25
I should like to insist on my interpretation of sin-offering taFj as a perfor-
mance, but contrary to Eberhart’s objection (Bedeutung der Opfer, 259), I am not of
the opinion that “die taFj werde zum Träger bzw. ‘Symbol’ für Unreinheit oder
Sünde und Tod.” The misinterpretation of my ideas results from the double mean-
ing of taFj—on the one hand, as the result of a disruptive action against life (sin,
afj), and on the other hand, as a ritual that enacts (and thus overcomes) that
chaotic danger. The latter might perhaps be seen as a “symbol,” but in both cases
taFj is and functions as a verbal noun belonging to the factitive-resultative Pi'el of
the verb afj. This implies a critical reconsideration of the so-called Pi'el privativum;
cf. Willi-Plein, Opfer und Kult, 98 n. 8: The privativum results from the construction
with (directional) ˆm.
and thus eliminating, “sin” or fault. This is done by application of

blood, which means application of (non-guilty) life (Lev 17:11).26
For this purpose an animal has to be slaughtered, but only in
order to gain the (innocent) blood which is innocent life, belonging
to God. So a sin-offering is no act of violence, no expiatory killing,
and probably even no gift to God,27 for life has always belonged to
God. Rather, it is a presentation of life, an act which was autho-
rized, according to the priestly writer (P), by God himself to remove
the bad pollutions of sin.
But the presence of the tent of meeting and the holy of holies is
more than that: it is the point of meeting of heaven and earth, the
point of direct ascent28 to God’s throne. How can that be done with-
out offending his majesty by so many pollutions and thus interrupt-
ing the way to come before the throne and to receive acceptance
and grace? The ritual of Yom Kippur solves the problem by giving
the high priest full access at least once a year, for the moment of
total acceptance. The minister in heaven, however, always has access
to the throne and thus can always intercede on behalf of the people.
This is perpetual priesthood according to the order of Melchizedek.
So from the point of view of ot exegesis we would conclude:
Christ has entered the heavenly sanctuary not by slaughtering, not
even by sacrificing himself, but by bringing uncontaminated life
into the sanctuary—his own life after his own innocent suffering. If
any metaphor is present in this context in Hebrews, it is at Heb
9:11–14, where Christ’s priestly purgation is said to have been done
by his blood—which, after all, is a metaphor for his life. He “gave”
his life for the benefit of others (Íp°r)29 and thus entered the heavenly
26
“The blood is the life”: On the function of Beth essentiae in nominal clauses of
identification, cf. Ernst Jenni, Die hebräischen Präpositionen (3 vols.; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,
1992–2000), 1:84–85.
27
Eberhart (Bedeutung der Opfer, 273) stresses that “kultische Reinigung [ist] nur
möglich durch das, was vom heiligen Gott selbst kommt,” and interprets blood
application as a ritual of purgation. From this he establishes (p. 287, with refer-
ence to Lev 6:17–21) the holiness of animal blood (we would prefer to speak of
the holiness of life). Between all this and the assessment of sin-offering (or its blood)
as a gift there seems to be tension. God as the owner of life has conceded (“given”)
the blood “upon the altar to make an atonement” (Lev 17:11); so at best one could
say that life/the blood is given back to its owner.
28
We cannot discuss here its relation to the altar of “ascending” burnt offering
(hlw[).
29
On Íp°r following the verbal expression for vicarious suffering or death, cf.
Cilliers Breytenbach, “Gnädigstimmen und opferkultische Sühne im Urchristentum
34 ina willi-plein
sanctuary to do his priestly service forever: it is “making propitious”

for the benefit of humanity. This is done once and for all, §fãpaj,
and even this statement may be part of the exegesis of the ot (lxx)
text—taking up and interpreting30 ëpaj toË §niautoË of Lev 16:34
lxx: toË §niautoË as referring to the high priest, ëpaj to Christ.
The sanctuary on earth is a “shadow” (skiã, Heb 8:5) of that in
heaven;31 however, the sanctuary in heaven is no “metaphor,” but
a mental reality. Neither is it even a cult sublimation. The subli-
mation of cult—probably in times of great distance from or even
non-existence of the temple—can be found in Hebrews, too, in the
parenetical final parts of the epistle (Heb 13), when yus¤a afin°sevw
is mentioned (Heb 13:15) and the inventory of cult is metaphorized.32
But there is no metaphorization in the central conclusion of Heb
10:19–21: Christ is the high priest “over” God’s house, and by his
mediatory service he enables those who are ready to accept purga-
tion and grace to “come forward” (Heb 10:22) and follow his lead-
ership in faith (Heb 12:1–3).
Reading the Epistle to the Hebrews with its topic of Christ as the
heavenly high priest against the background of the final shape of
the ot,33 the literal understanding of which the author obviously took
und seiner Umwelt,” in Opfer: Theologische und kulturelle Kontexte (ed. Bernd Janowski
and Michael Welker; stw 1454; Frankfurt a. M.: Suhrkamp, 2000), esp. 238–239.
30
Such interpretation is according to the 11th rule of the 32 Middot of Eliezer
(Günter Stemberger, Einleitung in Talmud und Midrasch [8th ed.; Munich: C. H. Beck,
1992], 35–36), which—like “Parallelen in den hellenistischen Normen von synthesis
und diairesis” (p. 36)—allows the structuring and subdivision of clauses to be changed
if reasons for a better interpretation can be given in this manner. This can be
assumed for the lxx text of Lev 16:34, if toË §niautoË was understandable as a
genitive of time, meaning “every year” (in this sense Xenophon, Vect. 4.23: LSJ,
568). ëpaj would then mean “(no more than) once,” the subdivision of the clause
could be understood to occur after ëpaj rather than before it, and the whole pas-
sage §jilãskesyai per‹ t«n ufl«n Israhl épÚ pas«n t«n èmarti«n aÈt«n {:} ëpaj
<:> toË §niautoË poihyÆsetai could be translated, “to effect purgation on behalf
of the Israelites for all their sins one time; every year shall it be done.” In this
structure ëpaj could be specified as “once and for all,” §fãpaj.
31
This idea may have a larger Hellenistic context, but it should also be seen
against a possible background of the positive semantic connotations of “shadow” in
biblical Hebrew.
32
It can be no more than an assumption that great distance from or non-exis-
tence of the temple is what lies at the root of cult sublimation, “metaphorization,”
and the idea of the Holy Spirit as the “spirit of holiness” for a community with-
out a sanctuary in their center.
33
In this context we need not make any difference between the Hebrew and the
Greek text.
for granted, does not lead to the conclusion that Christ’s “blood” is
meant to be (or equated with) an expiatory sacrifice.34 From the
point of view of ot exegesis, not only the relation between vicari-
ous dying and sacrifice35 but also the symbolic significance of blood
in biblical texts deserve to be reconsidered.36
Prof. Dr. theol. Ina Willi-Plein

Professorin für Altes Testament und spätisraelitische Religionsgeschichte
Universität Hamburg.
Fachbereich 01: Evangelische Theologie, Institut für Altes Testament
Sedanstrasse 19, D-20146 Hamburg, Germany
[email protected]
34
Even less is there any connection (as is sometimes considered in the literature)
with the ritual of Passover. Passover is no sacrifice at all, cf. Willi-Plein, Opfer und
Kult, esp. 111 and 125.
35
Cf. Bernd Janowski, “‘Hingabe’ oder ‘Opfer’? Zur gegenwärtigen Kontroverse
um die Deutung des Todes Jesu,” in Mincha, 93–119.
36
Just after finishing the main text of this article I had the opportunity to read
the manuscript of a very informative article by Friedhelm Hartenstein, “Zur sym-
bolischen Bedeutung des Blutes im Alten Testament,” in Deutungen des Todes Jesu
(ed. Jörg Frey and Jens Schröter; WUNT; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, forthcoming).
I was pleased to find in it some ideas parallel to mine.
CHARACTERISTICS OF SACRIFICIAL
METAPHORS IN HEBREWS*
Christian A. Eberhart
The Epistle to the Hebrews is the only writing of the New Testament
extensively employing sacrificial images and metaphors. Most of these
images belong to the well-developed interpretive concept of the
sacrifice of Jesus. However, the precise meaning and implications of
this concept change throughout the writing. Two passages from the
Epistle to the Hebrews illustrate this change, and lead us right into
the center of the problem:1
˘w §n ta›w ≤m°raiw t∞w sarkÚw aÈtoË deÆseiw te ka‹ flkethr¤aw prÚw tÚn
dunãmenon s–zein aÈtÚn §k yanãtou metå kraug∞w fisxurçw ka‹ dakrÊvn
prosen°gkaw ka‹ efisakousye‹w épÚ t∞w eÈlabe¤aw
In the days of his flesh, he [Christ] offered/sacrificed prayers and suppli-
cations, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save
him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear. (Heb 5:7)
oÏtvw ka‹ ı XristÚw ëpaj prosenexye‹w efiw tÚ poll«n énenegke›n èmart¤aw

§k deut°rou xvr‹w èmart¤aw ÙfyÆsetai to›w aÈtÚn épekdexom°noiw efiw
svthr¤an.
So Christ, having been offered/sacrificed once to take away the sins of many,
will appear a second time, not to deal with sin, but to save those who
are awaiting him. (Heb 9:28)
These passages are two examples of how the author of Hebrews2
appropriates the concept of the sacrifice of Jesus. Both examples refer
* In honor of Robert Jewett, on the occasion of his 70th birthday.

1
All biblical passages are accompanied by my own translations. Cult references
and metaphors in the translations are italicized.
2
Hebrews does not mention the name of its author. This person seems to have
been known to the community of the addressees (cf. Heb 13:18–19), but the “lim-
its of historical knowledge preclude positive identification of the writer” (William L.
Lane, Hebrews 1–8 [WBC 47A; Dallas: Word Books, 1991], xlix). In the church of
antiquity and in current scholarship, proposals for Hebrews’ authorship include Paul,
Barnabas, Luke, Clement of Rome, Apollos, Silas (Silvanus), Philip, Priscilla and
Aquila, Jude, Aristion, and Epaphras. See Lane, Hebrews 1–8, xlix–li; Werner G.
Kümmel, Einleitung in das Neue Testament (21st ed.; Heidelberg: Quelle und Meyer,
38 christian a. eberhart
to the passion of Jesus, and both employ sacrificial metaphors using

the cultic term prosf°rv.3 Yet despite these common features, the
two passages refer to different contents. According to Heb 5:7, it is
Jesus who sacrifices something—in this case, “prayers and supplica-
tions” to God. According to Heb 9:28, however, Jesus himself is
sacrificed. So in the first passage the sacrifice is an act of human
religious behavior, while later it is a person, implying particularly
the death of this human being. Investigating the characteristics of
sacrificial metaphors in Hebrews, therefore, depends on the mean-
ing of sacrifice itself: What is a sacrifice, and which ritual element
constitutes its climax? The answer to this question necessitates a study
of the Israelite or Judean sacrificial cult as a necessary precondition
for understanding sacrificial metaphors in the nt—it will, thus, be a
study in Traditionsgeschichte. The comprehensiveness of this study is
naturally limited by the scope of this essay. I will, however, try to
outline some basic features of the sacrificial cult as it appears in the
hb⁄ot, some of which need to be emphasized against the general
opinion of current scholarly interpretation.4 Furthermore, I will study
how sacrifices are used as metaphors both in the hb⁄ot and in the
nt. Conveying concepts such as “offering” and “acceptability,” these
metaphors comply with the nature of sacrifices in the hb⁄ot. The
author of Hebrews appropriates this tradition, but gradually reframes
the contents of sacrificial metaphors by referring them explicitly to
the death of Jesus. Thus, the sacrifice of Jesus has two effects: it
becomes the initial step of his exaltation and office as the heavenly
high priest; and it purifies human beings so that they may approach
the heavenly sanctuary.
1983), 345–347; Robert Jewett, Letter to Pilgrims: A Commentary on the Epistle to the
Hebrews (New York: Pilgrim, 1981), 10; Craig R. Koester, Hebrews: A New Translation
with Introduction and Commentary (AB 36; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 42–46.
3
The Septuagint frequently uses prosf°rv in cultic contexts. The verb is also
common in Hebrews (cf. Konrad Weiss, “f°rv,” TWNT 9:67–70; Harold W.
Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews [Hermeneia;
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989], 143).
4
For a more comprehensive investigation see Christian A. Eberhart, Studien zur
Bedeutung der Opfer im Alten Testament: Die Signifikanz von Blut- und Verbrennungsriten im
kultischen Rahmen (WMANT 94; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2002).
characteristics of sacrificial metaphors in hebrews 39
1. Reflections on the Judean Sacrificial Cult
1.1. Scholarly Interpretations: The Meaning of Ritual Blood Application

The cultic texts of the hb⁄ot contain no articulation of how a sacrifice
“works.” Even in the book of Leviticus, the regulations given for the
five types of sacrifice (burnt offering, cereal offering, communion
sacrifice, sin offering, and guilt offering) in Lev 1–7 are primarily
concerned with the correct performance of ritual steps, but omit any
explicit statement on how a sacrifice “functions.” This might be due
to the fact that sacrifices were part of everyday life and did not need
any explicit definition. This common knowledge remained unmen-
tioned in the priestly texts to which Leviticus belongs, and has thus
been lost for the modern reader because in today’s religious prac-
tice actual sacrifices are no longer offered.
It seems like this lack of a clear definition is reflected in acade-
mic scholarship, because there are almost as many theories on sacrifice
as there are scholars studying the subject matter.5 A closer look,
however, reveals that today, despite these different theories, most
scholars agree with the idea that the killing of an animal or a living
being is the basis of the sacrificial ritual. This killing happens in
favor of a human individual or group, thus making a sacrifice a vic-
arious process. For example, according to René Girard and Walter
Burkert, the sacrificial animal serves as a substitute for the human
being.6 And according to Hartmut Gese, atonement accomplished
5
For a summary of the most prominent theories on sacrifice see Josef Drexler,
Die Illusion des Opfers: Ein wissenschaftlicher Überblick über die wichtigsten Opfertheorien aus-
gehend vom deleuzianischen Polyperspektivismusmodell (Münchener Ethnologische Abhand-
lungen 12; Munich: Anacon, 1993), 1–2; Peter Gerlitz, “Opfer I. Religionsgeschichte,”
TRE 25:253–254.
6
Girard claims that sacrifices are a way of controlling violence and conflicts
found at the heart of human society by offering a space where these destructive
powers can be exercised in the act of killing. Therefore a sacrifice may be inter-
preted as a legalized form of collective murder directed at sustaining the human
society. See René Girard, La violence et le sacré (Paris: Grasset, 1972); idem, Ausstossung
und Verfolgung: Eine historische Theorie des Sündenbocks (Frankfurt: Fischer, 1992), 48–69.
Burkert holds that the experience of hunting has a positive and conciliatory effect
on society in that it provides food and requires a special organization of the human
community. A sacrifice, then, is the ritualized repetition of the climax of a hunt
because it allows people to re-experience the killing of an animal. As with Girard’s
approach, killing is understood as the precondition for human society to persist. See
Walter Burkert, Homo Necans: Interpretationen altgriechischer Opferriten und Mythen (RVV
32; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1972), 6–9; idem, Greek Religion (trans. John Raffan; Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 1985), 55–59. For a more thorough presentation and cri-
tique of Girard’s and Burkert’s theories, see Eberhart, Studien, 196–199, 203–221.
through sacrificial blood rites became the center of the Judean cult.7
However, this scholarly consensus has been challenged by Jacob
Milgrom. He insists that in the case of the sin offering, the taF;j,'
the sacrificial blood effects the ritual cleansing of the sanctuary, which
is subject to defilement itself.8 According to this interpretation, sacrifices
cannot be understood as vicarious processes, and animal slaughter
appears no longer as the climax of the sacrificial ritual.
Milgrom’s theory is corroborated by a number of further biblical
passages. For instance, the “torah of the sin offering,” the taF;j'h' tr"wOT
(Lev 6:17–23 mt [ET 6:24–30]), deals with the consequences of the
understanding that not only the blood but also the meat of the sin
offering are most holy. Whatever coincidentally touches this meat or
blood needs to be treated in a special fashion because it has attained
sanctity: sBekT' ] h;yl,[; hZ<yI rv,a} dg<Bh, A' l[' Hm;Dm: i hZ<yI rv,aw} " vD:qy] I Hr:cb; B] i [G"yAI rv,a} lKo
qr"moW hl;V;Bu tv,jon“ ylik]BiAμaiw“ rbeV;yI /BAlV'buT] rv,a} cr<j,Aylik]W> vdoq; μ/qm;B]
μyIM;B' πF'vuw“ (Lev 6:20–21). This transfer of sanctity must also depend
upon conscious physical contact while the central blood application9
rites are carried out during a sin offering ritual.
Another passage dealing with the special quality of sacrificial blood
is Lev 17:11:
μD:h'AyKi μk,ytec p]o n"Al[' rPek'l] j'Bez“Mih'Al[' μk,l; wyTit'n“ ynIa}w" awhi μD:B' rc;B;h' vp,n< yKi
>rPek'y“ vp,N<B' aWh
For the life of the flesh10 is in the blood, and I have given it to you
to make atonement for yourselves on the altar, because the blood
makes atonement through the life.
7
Gese’s understanding of atonement is based on the assumption that the human
identity that has been defiled by sin is transferred to the sacrificial animal. When
slaughtered, the animal vicariously suffers the death which the human being deserves.
A second aspect of atonement is the rite of applying the sacrificial blood in the
sanctuary where God resides. Because this blood still “contains” the human iden-
tity, the blood rite is a way of establishing contact between the earthly and the
divine sphere (cf. Hartmut Gese, “Die Sühne,” in Zur biblischen Theologie: Alttestamentliche
Vorträge [2d ed.; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1983], 95–99).
8
According to Milgrom, the blood of the taF;j' functions as “the purging ele-
ment, the ritual detergent” at the ritual of the Day of Atonement, the μyrIPuKih' μwOy
( Jacob Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary [AB
3; New York: Doubleday, 1991], 254).
9
Here and in the following, the term “application” or “to apply” in the con-
text of blood rites comprises both the “smearing” (ˆtn) and the “sprinkling” (hzn
Hiphil ) of sacrificial blood. Either way, this blood is brought into physical contact
with something or somebody.
10
In translations of Lev 17:11, the Hebrew word rc;B; is often rendered as “crea-
ture” (niv, Traduction Oecumenique de la Bible: “créature”) or “body” (“Leib,” cf. Die
This statement as well as its reiteration in Lev 17:14 gives an alter-

native rationale for the holiness of animal blood. Here, it is the fact
that blood contains life which accounts for its special quality. This
life belongs to God and must, therefore, not be consumed in the
process of eating meat. Instead, it has been given for atonement on
the altar, which means it can cleanse the altar (as well as the rest
of the sanctuary) from defilement through human sins and impurities.11
These rationales for the special quality of blood are helpful to
understand some aspects of the covenant at Mount Sinai (Exod
24:1–11) or of the ordination ceremony of Aaron and his sons (Exod
29 and Lev 8). During the covenant at Mount Sinai, an altar is built
(Exod 24:4), and burnt offerings and communion sacrifices are offered
(Exod 24:5). Moses collects the sacrificial blood in basins and, after
having read the words of “the book of the covenant” (tyrIB]h' rp,s)e
to the people (Exod 24:7), dashes half of it onto the people. In anal-
ogy to “the book of the covenant,” Moses calls this blood “the blood
of the covenant” (Exod 24:8, tyrIB]h'AμD"). The story reaches its climax
when Moses and Israel’s representatives climb on Mount Sinai. There
they not only see Israel’s God (Exod 24:10a, laer:c]yI yhe Ola‘ tae War“YIw)" 12
but even have a celebration including eating and drinking (Exod
24:11b).13 For human beings, however, the direct encounter with the
holy God usually has fatal consequences (cf. Gen 32:31 mt [ET
32:30]; Exod 19:21–24; 33:20). This is why the narrative of the
covenant at Mount Sinai explicitly mentions: “But God did not raise
his hand against the leaders of the Israelites” (Exod 24:11a, yleyxia}Ala,w“
/dy: jl'v; aOl laerc: y] I ynEB)] . The fact that Moses and Israel’s representatives
Bibel nach der Übersetzung Martin Luthers [1984]). While rc;B; can certainly have these
meanings, it may be pointed out that the context of Lev 17:11 deals with the pro-
hibition of consuming blood in the process of eating meat. In Lev 17:11, therefore,
the proper rendering of rc;B; is “flesh.”
11
This particular consequence of human sins and impurities is often neglected.
However, the hb⁄ot consistently states that God’s sanctuary and holy name may
be subject to defilement (Lev 15:31b; 16:16b; 20:3; Num 19:13, 20). Cf. Jacob
Milgrom, “Atonement in the OT,” IDBSup 79.
12
In Exod 24:10 (and 24:11), the Septuagint weakens the offensiveness of the
statement that the Israelites see God: ka‹ e‰don tÚn tÒpon, o eflstÆkei §ke› ı yeÚw
toË Israhl (“and they saw the location where Israel’s God stood”).
13
The remark in Exod 24:11 about eating and drinking might be surprising.
The joyous celebration is, however, included in one of the two types of sacrifice
which have been offered, the communion sacrifice (Exod 24:5). Its ritual includes
the consumption of the sacrificial meat (cf. Lev 7:11–27).
survive implies that they themselves are in a holy state.14 This is due
to the previous covenant, consisting both of Israel’s agreement to
follow the words of “the book of the covenant,” and of the rite with
“the blood of the covenant.”
In Exod 29 and Lev 8, the accounts of the ordination ceremony
of Aaron and his sons feature analogous structures. After the main
altar has been consecrated by means of the holy anointing oil and
sacrificial blood (Exod 29:36–37; Lev 8:11), Aaron and his sons wash
and dress in special priestly vestments (Exod 29:5–6; Lev 8:7–9, 13).
Then their consecration is carried out in a threefold fashion: first by
pouring the holy anointing oil on Aaron’s head (Exod 29:7, 29; Lev
8:12); second by smearing sacrificial blood on the ears, thumbs, and
toes of Aaron and his sons (Exod 29:20; Lev 8:23–24); and third by
a particular sprinkling rite:
wyn:BA; l['w“ wyd:gB: A] l[' ˆroha} A' l[' zY"w" j'Bze M“ hi A' l[' rv,a} μD:hA' ˆmiW hj;vMih' ˆm,Vm, i hv,mo jQ'YwI "
/Tai wyn:b; ydEg“BiAl['w“"
Then Moses took some of the anointing oil and some of the blood
that was on the altar. And he sprinkled [them] on Aaron and his vest-
ments, and also on his sons and their vestments. (Lev 8:30; cf. Exod
29:21)
This curious combination of anointing oil and sacrificial blood cor-
roborates the interpretation suggested above, that blood application
rites actually effect purification. Not only the sacrificial blood but
also the anointing oil is holy. This holiness is due respectively to the
unique ingredients of the anointing oil (cf. Exod 30:22–33) and to
the special quality of blood as a symbol of life. It is transferred to
human beings as well as their vestments upon physical contact dur-
ing application rites. Therefore, upon completion of this ceremony,
Aaron and his sons are “holy” (Exod 29:1, 44; Lev 8:30, vdq Pi'el )
and can serve as priests in the presence of God.
The stories of the covenant on Mount Sinai and the priests’ ordi-
nation share similar objectives and ritual procedures. In either case,
human beings face the danger of approaching the holy God. The
preparation for this encounter comprises ritual consecration: the blood
of sacrifices is applied to human beings so that Israel becomes God’s
14
Cf. Ernest W. Nicholson (“The Covenant Ritual in Exodus XXIV 3–8,” VT
32 [1982]: 83): “the making of the covenant here was also a matter of Israel becom-
ing Yahweh’s holy people.”
holy people and ordinary people become priests. Now Moses and
Israel’s representatives as well as the priests are prepared for the
presence of the holy God and survive.
1.2. Some Considerations of Cultic Terminology

However, do terminological considerations warrant our interpretive
tendency not to over-emphasize the importance of sacrificial slaugh-
ter? It has been pointed out that a basic term for sacrifice in the
hb⁄ot is jbz, which means “to slaughter.” And derived from this
root, the Hebrew term for “altar,” j'Bez“m,i is nothing but the “place
of slaughter.”15 Furthermore, the Greek equivalent of the noun jb'z,<
“sacrifice,” is yus¤a, which once again can refer to slaughter. Therefore
basic considerations of Hebrew and Greek terminology seem to sug-
gest that, in fact, the crucial action in a sacrifice is the killing of an
animal.
However, the meaning of these central cultic terms needs to be
revised, and indeed broadened. According to Jan Bergman, jbz is a
comprehensive term encompassing not only animal slaughter, but
the whole ritual process of the jb'z< including the sharing of the meat
and the burning of certain portions on the altar.16 A j'Bez“m,i then, is
the place where the sacrifice comprising all of these ritual steps is
carried out. It is important to notice that only such a broader mean-
ing helps one to understand the ritual procedure practiced during
the time of the post-exilic temple. This procedure is reflected in the
sacrificial regulations of Lev 1–7, according to which animal slaugh-
ter is never to be carried out on the central altar, but somewhere
in the forecourt or on the side of the altar (Lev 1:11; Ezek 40:39–41),
which are areas of lesser sanctity.17 At the post-exilic temple, there-
fore, the central altar is no longer the place of killing. It is actually
the “altar of burnt offering,” the jl;[oh; jB'z“m,i which indicates that the
burning of the sacrificial material is the main ritual element to be
carried out there.
A similar correction is necessary regarding the meaning of the
Greek equivalent of jbz, namely the verb yÊv. This word can refer
15
Cf. Gary A. Anderson, “Sacrifice and Sacrificial Offerings, Old Testament,”
ABD 5:873.
16
Jan Bergman, Helmer Ringgren, and Bernhard Lang, “jb'z,… ” ThWAT 2:513.
17
Cf. Milgrom, Leviticus 1–16, 164.
to profane slaughter, but it has a broader meaning as well. A more

appropriate rendering of yÊv would be “to sacrifice,” and accord-
ing to Johannes Behm, yÊv has the original meaning of “to smoke.”18
A broader meaning of the noun yus¤a is attested in the Septuagint,
where this term also appears as the translation of “cereal offering,”
hj;n“mi (see, e.g., Lev 2). Consisting of vegetable materials, this type of
sacrifice naturally comprises no slaughter; rather, the only ritual step
to be carried out at the sanctuary is the burning rite on the central
altar.
So both the Hebrew term jb'z< and the Greek term yus¤a need to
be understood in a broader sense. Another general Hebrew term for
sacrifices, ˆB;r“q,… literally means “what is brought near” and will be
translated as “offering,” just like its Greek rendering prosforã. Once
more, neither the Hebrew nor the Greek term stresses or alludes to
animal slaughter. Instead, both express the inherent dynamics of a
sacrificial ritual which, throughout its performance, “moves” toward
the most holy altar, thus “approaching” God who resides in the
sanctuary. Therefore a first conclusion of this survey of the sacrificial
cult in the hb⁄ot is that the slaughter of animals is rather insignificant.
1.3. Animal Slaughter and Burning Rite in the Context of Sacrificial Rituals
Further observations will support this particular conclusion. For exam-
ple, in the story of the “competition” between Elijah and the prophets
of Baal in 1 Kgs 18:21–40, the crucial task is the preparation of
burnt offerings. This text is a narrative, which implies that it will
focus on certain features deemed important for the general plot while
omitting less important information. In this story, the rough outline
of the process of preparing a burnt offering is given no less than
three times (1 Kgs 18:23, 26, 33). In these passages several actions
of the ritual are mentioned: the selection of the sacrificial animal;
the cutting up of the animal’s body (1 Kgs 18:23, 33); the “prepa-
ration” of the animal (1 Kgs 18:26); putting the wood in order on
the sacrificial altar (1 Kgs 18:33); and placing the pieces of the ani-
mal on the altar (1 Kgs 18:23, 33). Finally, the fire falling down
from heaven (1 Kgs 18:38) also belongs to the sacrificial ritual. There
is, however, no explicit mention of animal slaughter. The fact that
18
Johannes Behm, “yÊv,” ThWAT 3:180–181.
the slaughter has happened is, of course, implied in further ritual

actions like the cutting up of the animal’s body. But the slaughter
as such is clearly not the emphasis of the sacrifices, and therefore
remains unmentioned.19
Finally, it may be pointed out that scholars arguing for the impor-
tance of animal slaughter for sacrificial rituals tend to neglect one
type of sacrifice consisting not of animals, but of wheat, oil, and
frankincense. This is the “cereal offering,” the hj;nm“ ,i which has already
been mentioned above (see 1.2). Even though the ritual of this type
of sacrifice does not feature slaughter it is still considered a full
“offering,” ˆB;r“q… (cf. Lev 2:1 [bis], 4, 7, 12; 7:38), like all other types
of sacrifice.20 Most interestingly, the law on the sin offering, the taF;j,'
in Lev 4:1–5:13, stipulates that in case of neediness, a grain offering
can be substituted for the customary animal offering (Lev 5:11–13).
This substitute grain offering remains a fully valid sin offering, and
as such an “offering,” ˆB;r“q,; for God. Therefore the cereal offering
may be considered a serious challenge to traditional sacrificial the-
ories as developed by Girard, Burkert, and Gese, because it demon-
strates that a sacrifice can function without killing, and hence without
a victim. This, of course, leads us now to the question of which rit-
ual element may be considered the climax of the cereal offering.
The answer to this question lies in a brief reflection on the ritual
of the cereal offering. Leviticus 2 distinguishes various kinds of cereal
offerings, depending on how its basic materials of wheat, oil, and
frankincense are prepared. At the sanctuary, however, each kind of
cereal offering is handed over to the priest, who then takes a handful
19
The narrative of Abraham’s sacrifice (Gen 22:1–14) seems to contradict this
conclusion because of its particular emphasis on Isaac’s imminent death. It can,
however, be shown that this narrative cannot be understood as a paradigm for
sacrifices in general (cf. Christian A. Eberhart, “Die Prüfung Abrahams—oder: Wo
aber ist das Opfer im Neuen Testament? Exegese von 1. Mose 22 aus christlicher
Sicht,” in Wo aber ist das Opferlamm? Opfer und Opferkritik in den drei abrahamitischen
Religionen (ed. Ulrich Dehn; EZW-Texte 168; Berlin: Evangelische Zentralstelle für
Weltanschauungsfragen, 2003), 32–33.
20
Even though the cereal offering is one of the five types of sacrifices listed in
the sacrificial laws in Lev 1–7, modern scholarship has in fact tended to deny this,
thus questioning the status of this sacrifice. Gary A. Anderson, for instance, in writ-
ing his very comprehensive article on hb/ot sacrifice and sacrificial offerings, which
generally offers a careful analysis of biblical data, nonetheless distinguishes four types
of sacrifice while omitting the cereal offering (“Sacrifice and Sacrificial Offerings:
Old Testament,” 5:877–881).
of it in order to burn it on the main altar: μynIh}Koh' ˆroh}a' ynEB]Ala, Ha;ybih‘w<

ˆhe K o h ' ryfi q ] h i w “ Ht; n : b o l ] A lK; l[' Hn: m ] V ' m i W HT; l ] S ; m i /xm] q u aO l m] μV; m i ≈m' q ; w “
hw:hyl' j'joynI j'yrE hVeai hj;Bez“Mih' Ht;r:K;z“a'Ata, (Lev 2:2; cf. 2:9, 16). The rest
of the cereal offering is for the priest (Lev 2:3). This means that, at
the sanctuary, the only ritual element with cultic significance is the
burning rite on the altar. At the same time, the burning rite is the
only ritual element common to all five types of sacrifice.21 These
observations are important enough to suggest that, rather than ani-
mal slaughter, it is the burning of at least some of the sacrificial
material on the main and most holy altar which is the central rit-
ual element of sacrifices. In the priestly texts, the verb rfq Hiphil
usually describes this action.22 Furthermore, two interpretive terms
denote the implications of what happens during the burning rite: the
technical terms hV,ai (“fire offering”) and j'/jynI j'yrE (“pleasing odor”).
The first of these describes the fact that the fire on the altar trans-
forms a material offering given by a human individual or commu-
nity. The second technical term, j'/jynI j'yrE, refers to the process of
sacrificial smoke ascending to heaven. It conveys the idea that God
smells the odor of the sacrifice and thus receives it.
This interpretation of sacrifices in the hb⁄ot is corroborated by a
number of further passages. Starting with the cereal offering, the
addition of frankincense to the wheat and oil probably serves the sole
purpose of rendering the burning as the crucial element of the rit-
ual more impressive (Lev 2:1, 16). The burnt offerings in 1 Kgs
18:21–40 have already been addressed above. Here the lack of any
explicit mention of animal slaughter corresponds to the emphasis on
the “fire of the Lord” (1 Kgs 18:38, h/:hy“Avae) falling down from
21
In the context of the five types of sacrifice, the burning rite occurs, among
others, at the following passages:
Lev 1:9, 13, 17; 8:21: Burnt offering (hl;[)o ;
Lev 2:2, 9, 11, 16: Cereal offering (hj;n“m)i ;
Lev 3:5, 11, 16: Communion sacrifice (μymil;v] jb'z)< ;
Lev 4:10, 19, 26, 31, 35; 16:25: Sin offering (taF;j)' ;
Lev 7:5: Guilt offering (μv;a); .
22
The verb rfq Hiphil must be distinguished from πrc. Both refer to the burn-
ing of materials, and both can occur in cultic texts on sacrifice. However, πrc is
used to describe the burning of sacrificial remains without any cultic significance
(e.g., Lev 4:12, 21). On the contrary, the verb rfq Hiphil always describes the burn-
ing rite on the main altar. This burning rite occurs as part of the sacrifice and has
a specific cultic significance.
heaven and consuming the sacrificial animals on which previously even

water had been poured. The God who answers with fire determines
the competition between Elijah and the prophets of Baal, and is thus
identified as the real God: μyhiOla‘h; aWh vaeb; hn<[}y"Arv,a} μyhiOla‘h; hy:h;w“
(1 Kgs 18:24b). A further well-known example of God responding
to a burnt offering occurs at the end of the flood, when Noah and his
family leave the ark. The first thing Noah does is to offer a sacrifice,
and God smells its odor and decides not to harm humankind again:
hm;d:a}h;Ata, d/[ lLeq'l] πsiaoAaOl /BliAla, hw:hy“ rm,aOYw" j'joyNIh' j'yrEAta, hw:hy“ jr"Y:w"
μd:a;h; rWb[}B' (Gen 8:21a). Another type of sacrifice is the communion
sacrifice, the μymil;v] jb'z.< The largest part of its sacrificial meat is for
the person offering it, who will usually consume it at a celebration.
However, more than half of the sacrificial law in Lev 3 is dedicated
to the precise description of the burning rite, and which pieces of
the sacrificial animal are to be burnt.23 Finally, there is no doubt
that the characteristic and most prominent feature of the sin offering
is the central blood rite (Lev 4:5–7, 16–18, 25, 30, 34). However,
the formula about atonement and forgiveness (Lev 4:20b, 26b, 31b,
35b) always occurs right after the description of the burning on the
altar (Lev 4:19–20a, 26a, 31a, 35a), thus demonstrating the impor-
tance of this ritual element also for the sin offering. In his study on
the history of the sacrifice in Ancient Israel, Rolf Rendtorff holds
that the incorporation of this burning rite into the ritual of the sin
offering is the reason why this ritual has become a sacrifice.24
Observations like these suggest that the burning rite is the ritual
element to be considered in any attempt to understand how sacrifices
in the hb⁄ot “function.” The burning rite thus marks the final step
and, in the case of burnt offering and cereal offering, also the cli-
max of the sacrificial ritual, which is essentially a dynamic move-
ment through sacred space toward the center of holiness, thus an
“approach” (root brq) to God. Transformed by the fire of the altar,
the material offering given by a human individual or community is
“transported” to heaven in the ascending smoke. It is, therefore, the
23
For a detailed study on the communion sacrifice throughout different periods
of Israelite history see Christian A. Eberhart, “Beobachtungen zum Verbrennungsritus
bei Schlachtopfer und Gemeinschafts-Schlachtopfer,” Bib 83 (2002): 88–96.
24
Rolf Rendtorff, Studien zur Geschichte des Opfers im Alten Israel (WMANT 24;
Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1967), 234. See also idem, Leviticus 1,1–10,20
(BKAT 3/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 2004), 171.
burning rite which determines the quality of a cultic ritual as “offering

for God,” hw:hyl' ˆB;r“q.… 25
1.4. The Metaphorization of Sacrificial Language in the Hebrew Bible/

Old Testament
In Israelite and Judean history, sacrificial rituals formed the center
of the daily temple worship in Jerusalem. Sacrifices could not be
offered anywhere else because the cult was centralized, and thus lim-
ited to, the sanctuary in Jerusalem (cf. Deut 12:1–28). However, the
concept of sacrifice was not confined to this space. By means of
metaphorization it transcended the walls of this sanctuary and was
implemented into the general religious language. In this process, rit-
ual elements of the sacrificial cult as well as its qualities and attrib-
utes came to be applied to different theological concepts in order to
find new dimensions of expression. Such metaphors already appear
in the hb⁄ot, for example in Ps 51:19 mt (ET Ps 51:17):
hz<b]ti aOl μyhiløa‘ hK,d“nIw“ rB;v]nIAble hr:B;v]nI j'Wr μyhiOla‘ yjeb]zI
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; O God, you will not despise
a broken and contrite heart.
In this passage, the “sacrifices of God” are not those of the regular
cult, which requires very specific materials for every type of sacrifice.
Instead, a particular spiritual condition of the worshiper, namely, the
precondition for righteous behavior, appears as the equivalent of
such sacrifices. The common aspect of the material sacrifices and
this particular spiritual condition is their acceptability to God.
Another passage featuring sacrificial metaphors is Sir 35:1–3. Dis-
playing his familiarity with the actual temple cult,26 Sirach even refers
to specific types of sacrifice, namely prosforã (offering), (yus¤a)
svthr¤ou (communion sacrifice), sem¤daliw (cereal offering), and (yus¤a)
afin°sevw (thank offering), as well as to §jilasmÒw (atonement), and
allocates all of these to individual acts of righteous religious prac-
tice. Furthermore, the continuation in Sir 35:5 lxx (ET 35:8) is
highly instructive, as it explicitly describes how the acceptance of
these various sacrifices is thought to “function”:
25
For a more thorough presentation of the importance and meaning of the burn-
ing rite see Eberhart, Studien, 183–184; 361–381.
26
Cf. John J. Collins, Jewish Wisdom in the Hellenistic Age (OTL; Louisville: Westminster
John Knox, 1997), 90.
prosforå dika¤ou lipa¤nei yusiastÆrion, ka‹ ≤ eÈvd¤a aÈt∞w ¶nanti

Íc¤stou.
The offering of the righteous enriches the altar, and its pleasing odor is before
the Most High.
With its particular stress on the aspect that God smells the pleasing
odor, the j'/jynI j'yrE, this cultic metaphor confirms the above inter-
pretation of sacrifices with emphasis on the burning rite (see 1.3).
In addition, the recurrent insistence of these metaphors on religious
practice or human actions being acceptable to God allows the con-
clusion that the actual sacrifice of the temple worship is essentially
an “offering for God” (hw:hyl' ˆB;r“q)… which itself is supposed to be
acceptable to God.27
In this process of metaphorization, the central idea of cultic con-
cepts is picked up and situated in a different context, namely that
of ethical lifestyle and religious practice. This means, however, that
sacrificial metaphors generally witness to the interpretation of sacrifices
by the contemporary Judean community. As such, they do not give
a “definition” of how sacrifices “function,” but convey the essence
of sacrifices more explicitly than do the cultic texts of the hb⁄ot.
Therefore sacrificial metaphors contain important information for
modern scholars who attempt to understand actual sacrificial rituals.
By referring to the burning rite and choosing the aspect of accept-
ability, the metaphors in Ps 51:19 and Sir 35:1–5 support the inter-
pretation of sacrificial rituals proposed above (see 1.3).
Summary of section 1: The previous study of basic features of the
sacrificial cult in the hb⁄ot has shown that, contrary to traditional
scholarly theories, animal slaughter is not the climax of sacrificial
rituals. Following the approach of Jacob Milgrom, we may assume
that the different blood application rites have instead the function
of cleansing either the sanctuary or human beings. However, the
burning rite on the main altar is part of all five types of sacrifice,
even of the cereal offering, which is carried out with vegetable mate-
rial. The altar fire transforms the sacrificial material and transports
27
It is worth noting that for Sirach, the ethical demands of the law are not more
important than sacrifices. He clearly states: “Do not appear before the Lord empty-
handed, because all of this [that you offer] is in fulfillment of the law” (Sir 35:4
[ET 35:6–7]). Cf. Theophil Middendorp, Die Stellung Jesu Ben Siras zwischen Judentum
und Hellenismus (Leiden: Brill, 1973), 84–85.
it to God. In numerous biblical passages, the burning rite appears

as the climax of the sacrificial ritual. Therefore it may be consid-
ered the key to the interpretation of sacrificial rituals, determining
the quality of all types of sacrifice as “offering for God.” This under-
standing is corroborated by sacrificial metaphors as they witness to
the contemporary Judean community’s interpretation of sacrifices.
2. Sacrificial Metaphors in the New Testament
When the early Christian community used sacrificial metaphors, it

chose as its point of reference the temple cult of Jerusalem, which
was still being celebrated until 70 ce. However, Early Christianity
did not create these metaphors, but picked up a tradition which had
been developed for many centuries and to which the hb⁄ot bears
witness. Therefore a question of particular interest will be whether
the nt writings feature any substantial changes to this tradition. Our
study of selected nt sacrificial metaphors starts by considering ref-
erences to the “blood (of Jesus),” followed by an investigation of the
metaphor of “sacrifice.” In a final step, cult metaphors in Hebrews
will be studied. This approach will allow us to assess special devel-
opments featured in Hebrews.
2.1. The New Testament Metaphor of “Blood”

In nt sacrificial metaphors, all basic elements of the Judean cult have
been appropriated. 1 John 1:7, for instance, alludes to blood appli-
cation rites:
§ån d¢ §n t“ fvt‹ peripat«men …w aÈtÒw §stin §n t“ fvt¤, koinvn¤an
¶xomen metÉ éllÆlvn ka‹ tÚ aÂma ÉIhsoË toË ufloË aÈtoË kayar¤zei ≤mçw
épÚ pãshw èmart¤aw.
But if we walk in the light, as he [God] is in the light, we have fel-
lowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from
all sin.
This passage is part of a fundamental statement about the nature of
God and about ethical aspects of Christian behavior: because “God
is light” and not darkness (1 John 1:5), Christians are supposed to
refrain from sinful actions and adopt a righteous lifestyle. While the
contrasting categories of light and darkness “belong to the universal
language of religious symbolism,”28 the cultic image of the cleansing

power of blood refers more specifically to a Judean background.
However, both the universal and the cultic motif convey the concepts
of cleanness, righteousness, and holiness. The example for all of these
is God’s holiness. Human sin, which appears as the general human
condition (1 John 1:10), is removed through the blood of Jesus.
Another sacrificial metaphor is found in Rev 7:14:
ka‹ e‰p°n moi: oto¤ efisin ofl §rxÒmenoi §k t∞w yl¤cevw t∞w megãlhw ka‹
¶plunan tåw stolåw aÈt«n ka‹ §leÊkanan aÈtåw §n t“ a·mati toË érn¤ou.
And he [the elder] said to me: These are they who have come out
of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white
in the blood of the Lamb.
This passage belongs to an eschatological vision of God’s heavenly
throne surrounded by a multitude of people from all cultures and
countries of the world (Rev 7:9). All of these people have “come
out of the great tribulation.” First mentioned in Dan 12:1 as “a time
of distress” (hr:x; t[e), the theme of God’s people suffering from per-
secution became a classic feature of apocalyptic texts (cf. Mark
13:7–23; Did. 16:4–5). It is usually coupled with the idea that the
ones who persist will eventually be saved. Here, this salvation is illus-
trated with the cultic image of robes washed and made white in the
blood of the Lamb. Such white robes are worn by martyrs (cf. Rev
3:5; 6:11). The idea that robes are purified through blood is, of
course, paradoxical. In the hb⁄ot, however, it is part of the conse-
cration of priests, as we have seen above (Exod 29:20–21; Lev
8:23–24, 30; see 1.1). There, even the robes of the priests are ex-
plicitly said to be consecrated through the application of sacrificial
blood. A similar image occurs, for example, in Jacob’s last address
to his sons: Judah’s garments are washed in wine and the “blood”
of grapes (Gen 49:11). In Rev 7:14, therefore, the white color of the
robes cannot be understood literally. Instead, it is a symbolic refer-
ence to purity and holiness.29 This holiness is the result of the mar-
tyrs’ faithfulness and persistence. Furthermore, just as Israel needs
28
John R. W. Stott, The Epistles of John: An Introduction and Commentary (TNTC;
Leicester: Inter-Varsity Press; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964), 70.
29
Cf. Pierre Prigent, L’Apocalypse de Saint Jean (2d ed.; CNT 14; Geneva: Édi-
tions Labor et Fides, 1988), 126.
purification in order to approach God on Mount Sinai (Exod 24;

see 1.1), and as priests need consecration during their ordination
process (Exod 29/Lev 8), holiness is a necessary prerequisite for the
martyrs to approach the throne of the holy God where they are to
serve continuously:
diå toËtÒ efisin §n≈pion toË yrÒnou toË yeoË ka‹ latreÊousin aÈt“ ≤m°raw
ka‹ nuktÚw §n t“ na“ aÈtoË
For this reason they are before the throne of God, and serve30 him
day and night in his temple. (Rev 7:15)31
In these passages, the means of consecration is the “blood of Jesus”
(1 John 1:7) and the “blood of the Lamb” (Rev 7:14). Both expres-
sions refer to the crucifixion of Jesus and illustrate how human sin-
fulness is removed. However, it should be pointed out that the “mode”
of this salvation is purification analogous to cultic blood rites. It is
a subtle but important difference that, in this metaphor, the death
of Jesus as such does not remove sin, just as animal slaughter as
such is not the event which consecrates human beings in the hb⁄ot.32
Instead, the death of Jesus is the precondition for the availability of
his blood, hence for salvation.
2.2. The New Testament Metaphor of “Sacrifice”

Other metaphors in the nt appropriate different aspects of the hb⁄ot
sacrificial cult. In opening the paraenetic section of his letter to the
Romans, Paul writes:
30
The Greek term latreÊv refers to cultic service (cf. Acts 7:7, 42; Heb 8:6;
9:9, 14).
31
David E. Aune suggests that the washing of the robes is “part of the ritual
purification required after the shedding of blood” (Revelation 6–16 [WBC 52B;
Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998], 474). Such an explanation, however, neglects the
danger involved in encountering God, cf. Gen 32:31; Exod 19:21–24; 33:20.
32
In his comments on 1 John 1:7, Stephen S. Smalley claims that the “blood”
of Jesus “must be interpreted above all against the specific background of the cul-
tic observances on the Day of Atonement (Lev 16; but cf. also the Passover story
and ritual, Exod 12)” (1, 2, 3 John [WBC 51; Waco: Word Books, 1984], 25). In
these biblical passages, however, sacrificial blood is never applied to human beings,
but to the lintel and the two doorposts of the houses of the Israelites (Exod 12:13,
23), and to the tent of meeting as well as the altar of burnt offering (Lev 16:14–16,
18; see also v. 20a). Therefore a much closer analogy is found in Exod 24:1–11
and Exod 29/Lev 8. Smalley also explains with reference to Lev 17:11 that “as a
means of atonement . . ., the ‘blood’ of a victim was thus its life yielded up in death”
(1, 2, 3 John, 24). But this traditional understanding of sacrifices (see above) does
not account for the fact that 1 John 1:7 mentions a process of cleansing from sins.
Parakal« oÔn Ímçw, édelfo¤, diå t«n ofiktirm«n toË yeoË parast∞sai
tå s≈mata Ím«n yus¤an z«san èg¤an eÈãreston t“ ye“, tØn logikØn
latre¤an Ím«n:
Therefore, I urge you, brothers, by God’s mercy, to present 33 your bod-
ies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual
service. (Rom 12:1)
In this metaphor, the addressees are expected to present themselves as
a sacrifice. Paul uses general traditional attributes of the sacrificial
cult such as “holy” and “acceptable” (see 1.1, 4) to describe its spe-
cial quality. The content of this service is determined in the follow-
ing verses and consists of “renewing your minds” (Rom 2:2) and
detailed exhortation on a righteous lifestyle—therefore the sacrifice
is “living.” To claim that “z«san is probably chosen to contrast the
thought of a sacrifice which consists in the quality of daily liv-
ing . . . with a sacrifice which consists in killing an animal”34 is hardly
adequate. This explanation fails to explain what the metaphorical
value of the term yus¤a might be for the context of Romans if ani-
mal slaughter as its supposedly central ritual element would be turned
into the contrary. In the hb⁄ot, however, ritual killing is rather
insignificant for the meaning of sacrifices, as has been shown above
(1.1). It is also important to recapitulate that the Greek term yus¤a
does not necessarily refer to animal slaughter, but has a broader
meaning comprising specifically the burning rite. It can, therefore,
be the translation of hj;nm“ i, “cereal offering,” which is essentially given
to the officiating priest who then burns a portion of it. Considering
how the sacrificial metaphor is employed in Rom 12:1, it is clear
that the nature of a sacrifice is understood as an “offering,” the cli-
max of which is to “present” oneself to God.
Another passage from a Pauline writing is instructive because of
its similar usage of sacrificial metaphors. In Phil 4:18, Paul writes:
ép°xv d¢ pãnta ka‹ perisseÊv: peplÆrvmai dejãmenow parå ÉEpafrod¤tou
tå parÉ Ím«n, ÙsmØn eÈvd¤aw, yus¤an dektÆn, eÈãreston t“ ye“.
33
The Greek verb paristãnv refers to sacrificial service; cf. Heinrich Schlier,
Der Römerbrief (HTKNT 6; Freiburg: Herder, 1977), 355.
34
James D. G. Dunn, Romans 9–16 (WBC 38B; Dallas: Word Books, 1988), 710.
In a similar fashion, Joseph A. Fitzmyer comments that Paul “implicitly compares
Christians with animals slaughtered in Jewish or pagan cults, but he corrects the
comparison by adding ‘living’ and the following phrase. It is not a cult that offers
dead animals to God” (Romans: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary [AB
33; New York: Doubleday, 1993], 640).
I have received everything and more; I have abundantly, having received

from Epaphroditus the things you sent, a pleasing odor, an acceptable
sacrifice, pleasant to God.
In his expression of gratitude, Paul first uses business terminology
when, in fact, drawing up a receipt for having received the gifts
(maybe bread or beverages, etc.).35 Then he turns to a different
figurative background and employs sacrificial terminology, calling
these gifts a “sacrifice,” yus¤a. Once again, it is clear that these
metaphors do not convey the notion of slaughter. Just as in the
Judean cult a sacrifice may be considered an “offering for God,” so
here objects of everyday life can be labeled in the same fashion, pro-
vided they please the addressee. This central nature of sacrifices is
explicitly linked to the ritual element through which the offering as
such becomes manifest, namely, the burning rite. The Greek term
ÙsmØ eÈvd¤aw (“pleasing odor”), a translation of the Hebrew inter-
pretive term j'wOjynI j'yrE, obviously points to this ritual element.
Before turning to sacrificial metaphors in the Epistle to the Hebrews,
one more nt passage shall be studied:
G¤nesye oÔn mimhta‹ toË yeoË …w t°kna égaphtå ka‹ peripate›te §n égãp˙,
kayΔw ka‹ ı XristÚw ±gãphsen ≤mçw ka‹ par°dvken •autÚn Íp¢r ≤m«n
prosforån ka‹ yus¤an t“ ye“ efiw ÙsmØn eÈvd¤aw.
Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love,
just as Christ loved us, too, and gave himself for us as an offering and
sacrifice to God, as a pleasing odor. (Eph 5:1–2)
This passage features a number of elements familiar from previous
cultic metaphors. First of all, the motif of sacrifice is again employed
in a paraenetic context (Eph 4:25–6:9). As in 1 John 1:7, the exam-
ple of proper conduct is God (Eph 5:1), even though Christ also
appears as role model (Eph 5:2). This statement is, furthermore,
dominated by three occurrences of the word “love,” and the further
context again contains the dualism of light and darkness (Eph 5:8–9).
The terminology of the sacrificial metaphor is similar to that of
Phil 4:18 (see above). The traditional exegesis, however, interprets
the metaphor in Eph 5:2 as a reference to the death of Jesus.36 Yet
35
Cf. Adolf Deissmann, Light from the Ancient East: The New Testament Illustrated by
Recently Discovered Texts of the Graeco-Roman World (trans. Lionel R. M. Strachan; 2d
ed.; London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1911), 111–112, 335.
36
Cf. Markus Barth, Ephesians: Translation and Commentary on Chapters 4–6 (AB 34A;
how this death could serve as an example for the detailed parae-
netic instructions remains rather unclear. With regard to the previ-
ous investigation of both the sacrificial cult in the hb⁄ot and the nt
sacrificial metaphors, it may instead be proposed that in Eph 5:2,
the words “offering and sacrifice for God” do not refer to the moment
of the death of Jesus. The sacrifice of Jesus is rather a reference to
his whole life, which serves as an example of Christian love. The
words Jesus spoke and the actions he performed, but also the fact
that as part of this life he willingly suffered death on the cross, serve
as the true example of love because they are an expression of a
righteous and divine life. The verse demonstrates that the life of
Jesus also has salvific value; hence nt soteriological concepts do
include incarnational aspects.
2.3. Cult Metaphors in Hebrews

Despite the limited scope of this study, I hope to have established
a background detailed enough to finally show the development and
characteristics of sacrificial metaphors in the Epistle to the Hebrews.
Let us start with the first sacrificial metaphor in this text, which
occurs in Heb 5:7:
˘w §n ta›w ≤m°raiw t∞w sarkÚw aÈtoË deÆseiw te ka‹ flkethr¤aw prÚw tÚn
dunãmenon s–zein aÈtÚn §k yanãtou metå kraug∞w fisxurçw ka‹ dakrÊvn
prosen°gkaw ka‹ efisakousye‹w épÚ t∞w eÈlabe¤aw
In the days of his flesh, he [Christ] offered/sacrificed prayers and sup-
plications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save
him from death, and he was heard for his godly fear.
In this opening statement of a lengthy clause on Christ’s solidarity
with human beings, his sacrifice clearly does not refer to his death.
Instead, it corresponds to sacrificial metaphors found elsewhere in
biblical literature (see 2.1). In keeping with the image of pious prayer
known from Judean traditions (cf. Pss 22; 116:8; 3 Macc 1:16),37
Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, 1974), 558: “The author [of Eph] designates Jesus
Christ’s death as an atoning sacrifice offered by the pouring out of blood.” See also
Wolfgang Stegemann, “Der Tod Jesu als Opfer: Anthropologische Aspekte seiner
Deutung im Neuen Testament,” in Abschied von der Schuld? Zur Anthropologie und Theologie
von Schuldbekenntnis, Opfer und Versöhnung (ed. Richard Riess; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,
1996), 125: “So wird zum Beispiel Eph 5,2 Jesu Tod explizit mit Opferterminologie
ausgesagt.”
37
See also Attridge, Hebrews, 150–151.
Christ’s emotional appeal to God is vividly described here by employ-

ing the cultic term prosf°rv. Christ offers deÆseiw te ka‹ flkethr¤aw,
which implies that he turns to God. This phrase also implies what
is then explicitly mentioned: God hears his prayer.38
The text of Heb 5:7 does not say precisely what Christ prays for.
Yet the author of Hebrews “heightens the agony motif by alluding
to loud cries and tears, which are not reported elsewhere in the
gospel tradition. . . . [I]t is at least clear that total involvement in
mortality is communicated.”39 In addition, the observation that God
is called “the one who was able to save him [Christ] from death,”
a customary circumlocution (cf. 1 Sam 2:6; Hos 13:14), certainly
alludes to the content of Christ’s prayer.40 It does not matter if this
is understood as an allusion to the struggle in Gethsemane, or as
referring to general mortality as a feature of human existence already
implied in the first words in Heb 5:7, “in the days of his flesh.”
Either way, in a subtle fashion Hebrews associates sacrificial termi-
nology with the death of Christ.
The next sacrificial metaphor with reference to Jesus is found in
Heb 7:27:
˘w oÈk ¶xei kayÉ ≤m°ran énãgkhn, Àsper ofl érxiere›w, prÒteron Íp¢r t«n
fid¤vn èmarti«n yus¤aw énaf°rein ¶peita t«n toË laoË: toËto går §po¤hsen
§fãpaj •autÚn énen°gkaw.
He [Christ] has no need, like the high priests, to offer sacrifices daily,
first for his own sins and then for those of the people. He did this
once for all when he offered himself.
Hebrews 7 explores the image of Christ as the holy and blameless
high priest. As such, he appears in opposition to the human high
priest, who is still defiled by sin and will always be so. While the
human high priest therefore needs to offer (énaf°rv) many sacrifices
for himself, Christ has offered himself once. This new quality of Christ’s
sacrifice is the crucial difference between Heb 7:27 and 5:7, since
in 5:7 the sacrifice consisting of prayers and supplications is not a
self-sacrifice, and might have occurred repeatedly. Thus in Heb 7,
38
It is beyond the scope of this study to determine how Christ’s prayer was
“heard” by God. Multiple ways of understanding this passage are presented in James
Swetnam, “The Crux at Hebrews 5:7–8,” Bib 81 (2000): 347–361.
39
Jewett, Letter, 88.
40
Cf. Koester, Hebrews, 289.
the author of Hebrews finally adapts sacrificial metaphors to fit

his/her overall christological program set out in Heb 2:14 that sal-
vation is accomplished through Christ’s death. It should be empha-
sized, however, that the adaptation of the sacrificial metaphor changes
the content it usually conveys. While in passages like Rom 12:1, Phil
4:18, Eph 5:2, and Heb 5:7 the metaphorical terminology refers to
aspects of acceptability, holiness, and offering (see above), Heb 7:27
introduces with the self-sacrifice both a reference to and a focus on
the crucifixion. In the discussions within this article so far, this has
only occurred in cultic metaphors mentioning the “blood (of Jesus)”
(cf. 1 John 1:7; Rev 7:14).
One question remains unanswered for the moment: How exactly
is this salvation through self-sacrifice accomplished? It will be answered
in Heb 9, where the sacrificial concept is fully developed. In Heb
9:1–10, the imagery of the Day of Atonement, the μyrIPuKih' μwOy, is
introduced.41 This means that Hebrews, in fact, adopts Judean tra-
ditions of atonement through blood application, which have been
outlined above (1.1), in order to merge them with the concept of
“Christ’s sacrifice.” Thus the author of Hebrews states:
oÈd¢ diÉ a·matow trãgvn ka‹ mÒsxvn diå d¢ toË fid¤ou a·matow efis∞lyen
§fãpaj efiw tå ëgia afivn¤an lÊtrvsin eÍrãmenow.
He [Christ] entered into the sanctuary once for all, not with the blood of
goats and calves, but with his own blood to obtain an eternal redemption.
(Heb 9:12)
So here, in fact, Christ’s blood substitutes for the blood of sacrificial
animals. Due to his superior quality, however, the effect of this new
blood application lasts forever. The mode of this redemption corre-
sponds, once again, to Judean atonement traditions: “how much
more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered
himself unblemished to God (•autÚn prosÆnegken êmvmon t“ ye“), purify
(kayarie›) our consciences from acts that lead to death, so that we
may serve the living God” (Heb 9:14). This ritual cleansing through
blood application rites is characteristic of the Day of Atonement,
41
Hebrews refers to the regulations of the Day of Atonement in Lev 16 when
mentioning the “tent” (cf. Heb 9:2, 3, 6). “Significantly, the author makes no men-
tion of the second Temple—which had its critics—but declares that Christ’s sanc-
tuary is greater than even the Mosaic Tabernacle, the memory of which was widely
revered” (Koester, Hebrews, 413).
and will be referred to again in Heb 9:21–22.42 As was shown above

in the outline of blood rites in the hb⁄ot, the covenant ceremony
at Mount Sinai (Exod 24:1–11) also features blood application rites
which consecrate the Israelites (1.1). In Heb 9:19–20 the author of
Hebrews, probably seeking to ground his/her christological concept
in the Judean traditions as firmly as possible, also describes this appli-
cation rite and, in addition, draws in the ceremony of the red heifer
(Num 19:1–11). Redemption according to Hebrews, therefore, is a
mixture of metaphors derived from the traditional sacrificial cult,
expanded by the idea that the human conscience is purified.
At this point, the question of the purpose of Christ’s death needs
to be posed. So far in the christological development found in
Hebrews, Christ’s blood purifies and thus eliminates human sin. As
has been pointed out already, it is strictly speaking not Christ’s death
which effects this purification.43 The Greek term aÂma can, of course,
be a synonym for “death,” or more precisely for “murder.”44 In cul-
tic texts of the hb⁄ot, however, this is not the case, because aÂma
always refers to the actual blood of sacrificial animals. It has been
demonstrated that a sacrifice can be offered without a victim (Lev
2; 5:11–13; see 1.3). At the covenant of Mount Sinai (Exod 24:1–11),
at the ordination of Aaron and his sons (Exod 29; Lev 8), and at
the ceremony of the Day of Atonement (Lev 16), sacrificial blood
purifies upon physical contact, which means when it is actually applied
to people or the sanctuary and its sacred objects. But this purification
would not happen if the animal of, e.g., a sin offering were to be
slaughtered without the subsequent blood application rite being car-
ried out. Animal slaughter is a preparatory element in the sacrificial
ritual, and certainly a necessary prerequisite for purifying blood rites.
The moment of slaughter as such, however, has no particular signi-
ficance. Thus, cultic metaphors like those in 1 John 1:7, Rev 7:14,
42
Heb 9:21–22a explicitly mentions: ka‹ tØn skhnØn d¢ ka‹ pãnta tå skeÊh t∞w
leitourg¤aw t“ a·mati ımo¤vw §rrãntisen. ka‹ sxedÚn §n a·mati pãnta kayar¤zetai
katå tÚn nÒmon (“And in the same way he sprinkled with the blood both the tent
and all the vessels used for the service. Indeed, under the law almost everything is
purified with blood”). Two aspects are of interest in this passage: The effect of
blood application is purification, and the sanctuary as well as all of its vessels—and
not only human beings—can be the objects of this purification. Heb 9:21–22 there-
fore shows that the interpretation of blood application rites suggested above was
still accepted during the time of Early Christianity.
43
Cf. Attridge, Hebrews, 251–252; Koester, Hebrews, 414.
44
Cf. Johannes Behm, “aÂma,” TWNT 1:172–173; Eberhart, Studien, 224–226.
and Heb 9 mention the purifying effect of (the application of ) Christ’s

blood. Without Christ’s death this particular purification would be
impossible. In sacrificial images, therefore, Christ’s death is not the
actual salvific event but the precondition for the availability of his
blood.
The author of Hebrews provides indirect proof of this subtle dis-
tinction. His/her general christological program that salvation is
accomplished through Christ’s death (Heb 2:14) is stated again in
Heb 9:15: yanãtou genom°nou efiw épolÊtrvsin t«n §p‹ tª pr≈t˙
diayÆk˙ parabãsevn (“a death has occurred that redeems them from
the transgressions under the first covenant”). But in order to prove
this statement, the author of Hebrews needs to change the imagery
that has been so thoroughly developed throughout the entire chap-
ter. Hence s/he leaves cultic metaphors and chooses a secular legal
background when arguing that succession takes effect upon the death
of the testator:
ÜOpou går diayÆkh, yãnaton énãgkh f°resyai toË diayem°nou: diayÆkh
går §p‹ nekro›w beba¤a, §pe‹ mÆpote fisxÊei ˜te zª ı diay°menow.
In the case of a will, it is necessary to prove the death of the testa-
tor, because a will is in force only when somebody has died; it never
takes effect while the testator is alive. (Heb 9:16–17)
This legal metaphor provides a sufficient background to argue that
somebody’s death has a positive effect. Based solely on cultic metaphors,
this argument would have been impossible.
The focus of the whole argumentation in Heb 9 has been that
Christ’s sacrifice offered once for all is better than the repeated
sacrifices offered in the Levitical cult. It may be pointed out that
throughout this argumentation, the general validity of the cult has
remained unquestioned. The soteriological concept of Christ’s sacrifice
and the purification it effects are developed in analogy to the Levitical
sacrifice, which means that the latter is taken for granted so that
the validity of the earlier can be derived from it:
efi går tÚ aÂma trãgvn ka‹ taÊrvn ka‹ spodÚw damãlevw =ant¤zousa toÁw
kekoinvm°nouw ègiãzei prÚw tØn t∞w sarkÚw kayarÒthta, pÒsƒ mçllon tÚ
aÂma toË XristoË, ˘w diå pneÊmatow afivn¤ou •autÚn prosÆnegken êmv-
mon t“ ye“, kayarie› tØn sune¤dhsin ≤m«n épÚ nekr«n ¶rgvn efiw tÚ
latreÊein ye“ z«nti.
For if the sprinkling of the blood of goats and bulls and of the ashes
of a heifer sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is
purified, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the
eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, purify our con-
sciences from acts that lead to death, so that we may serve the living
God. (Heb 9:13–14)
Based on this argumentation, Hebrews gradually introduces the claim
that the heavenly cult with all of its features is “better” (kre¤ttvn)
than the Levitical one: Jesus has obtained a better ministry than the
earthly priest (Heb 8:6) and is the mediator of a better covenant
(Heb 7:22; 8:6); the tent of the sanctuary that is not made by hand
is “greater and more perfect” than the earthly one (Heb 9:11); and the
law (ı nÒmow) is but a “shadow” of the “good things to come” (Heb
10:1). Further claims are that Christ’s blood purifies better (Heb
9:14) and that the heavenly things need better sacrifices (Heb 9:23).
But the author of Hebrews aims for more. While thus far s/he
has declared the superiority of the heavenly cult over the earthly
one, s/he now sets out to fundamentally question the validity of the
latter: édÊnaton går aÂma taÊrvn ka‹ trãgvn éfaire›n èmart¤aw (Heb
10:4, “because it is impossible for blood of bulls and goats to take
away sins”; see also Heb 10:11). This statement prepares the exclu-
sive claim that only Christ’s sacrifice is valid. Two observations shall,
however, be made about this statement. First, Hebrews is interested
in forgiveness of sins that is continuously effective and “makes com-
plete” (Heb 10:1, teleiÒv). Yet such a dimension of the elimination
of sins is never intended in the sacrificial cult of the hb⁄ot. There
the reality that human beings will always commit sins and become
impure, and that they will be in need of forgiveness and purification
at all times, forms the basis of the temple cult with its repetitive (in
fact, daily) service. Hebrews’ interpretation that this repetitiveness is
a sign of inefficiency is, therefore, the result of the specific interest
in continuous forgiveness. Second, the total denial of the validity of
the Judean sacrificial cult in Heb 10:4 is inconsistent with Hebrews’
own argument in Heb 9:13. There the effectiveness of this cult is
the foundation of the metaphor of Christ’s sacrifice.
The author of Hebrews now makes use of a homiletic midrash in
order to develop the sacrificial metaphor further. S/he refers in Heb
10:5–7 to Ps 39:7–9 lxx, according to which God desires not sacrifices
but the execution of the divine will (toË poi∞sai ı yeÚw tÚ y°lhmã
sou). In the subsequent comment, the author of Hebrews under-
stands this as proof for the abolition of Levitical sacrifices. They will
be replaced by “the second” (tÚ deÊteron), which refers to Christ’s

sacrifice (Heb 10:9). The author of Hebrews continues:
§n ⁄ yelÆmati ≤giasm°noi §sm¢n diå t∞w prosforçw toË s≈matow ÉIhsoË
XristoË §fãpaj.
By that will, we have been sanctified through the sacrifice of the body
of Jesus Christ once for all. (Heb 10:10)
The metaphor of the sacrifice of Christ’s body, motivated by a Sep-
tuagint variant,45 has caused some scholarly discussion regarding its
meaning. It has been observed that the terminology stands close to
that in Rom 12:1.46 In this passage the appeal “to present your bod-
ies as a living sacrifice” refers to a righteous lifestyle (see 2.2). In
fact, also in Heb 10:7 the phrase toË poi∞sai ı yeÚw tÚ y°lhmã sou
(“to do your will, O God”) can be understood in this sense, which
would correspond to the reference to Christ’s incarnation, fidoÁ ¥kv
(“see, I have come”).47 With these features, the entire passage Heb
10:5–10 seems to return to the contents of traditional sacrificial meta-
phors which—with the image of Christ who “sacrificed prayers and
supplications” (Heb 5:7)—have formed a point of departure in
Hebrews. But considering how the metaphor of Christ’s sacrifice has
been developed throughout Hebrews, and given the §fãpaj (“once
for all”) in Heb 10:10, it may be assumed that in Heb 10:5 the
Septuagint variant featuring “body” has been chosen consciously. Its
openness allows incorporating the new features of Hebrews’ Christology
which stresses suffering, and links the concept of Christ’s sacrifice to
his death.48 The ambiguous notion of the “sacrifice of the body of
Jesus Christ” (Heb 10:10), therefore, combines “an internal dimen-
sion of obedience and an external dimension in the offering of his
45
Ps 40:7b mt (ET Ps 40:6b) reads yLi t;yrIK; μyIn"z“a; (“ears you dug for me”).
However, the best Septuagint manuscripts read s«ma. For a discussion of the vari-
ants see Koester, Hebrews, 432–433.
46
Cf. Jewett, Letter, 164; Klaus Berger, Theologiegeschichte des Urchristentums: Theologie
des Neuen Testaments (2d ed.; Tübingen: A. Francke, 1995), 399, 459.
47
Cf. William L. Lane, Hebrews 9–13 (WBC 47B; Dallas: Word Books, 1991),
262.
48
Attridge (Hebrews, 274) points out that “Hebrews exploits this contrast of sacrifice
and willing obedience, yet the interpretive translation in the lxx of “body” for
“ears” also serves the purpose of the argument. For Christ’s conformity to the divine
will is clearly an act that involves his body.”
body through crucifixion.”49 As such, this statement forms a climax

of the development of Hebrews’ composite sacrificial metaphors.
The effect of Christ’s sacrifice for the community is explained in
Heb 10:19, 22:
ÖExontew oÔn, édelfo¤, parrhs¤an efiw tØn e‡sodon t«n èg¤vn §n t“ a·mati
ÉIhsoË, . . . proserx≈meya metå élhyin∞w kard¤aw §n plhrofor¤& p¤stevw
=erantism°noi tåw kard¤aw épÚ suneidÆsevw ponhrçw ka‹ lelousm°noi tÚ
s«ma Ïdati kayar“:
Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the sanctuary
through the blood of Jesus, . . . let us approach with a true heart in
full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled from an evil con-
science and our bodies washed with pure water. (Heb 10:19, 22)
In this passage, the author of Hebrews picks up a theme that may
be regarded as the purpose of the entire cult concept: approaching
God. In Heb 4:16 as well as in Heb 10:22, the addresses are urged
to “approach” (pros°rxomai) the sanctuary and encounter the holy
God who resides there.50 This theme thus frames the whole section
of cultic imagery in Heb 5–10. The “approach” is possible “through
the blood of Jesus” (Heb 4:19), which is understood as purification
from sin (cf. Heb 4:22). As has been shown earlier (see 1.1), in
Judean cult traditions such purification is the only way of encountering
the holy God. Christ’s sacrifice grants this purity and therefore guar-
antees eternal access to God for humans. It has, however, yet another
effect. At the heart of the Day of Atonement imagery in Heb 9:12,
Christ’s blood—which may only here be understood as synonymous
with “death”—is also the means of access for Christ himself into the
sanctuary (diå d¢ toË fid¤ou a·matow efis∞lyen §fãpaj efiw tå ëgia
afivn¤an lÊtrvsin eÍrãmenow). Through his death, Christ left the earth
in order to serve as high priest in the heavenly sanctuary.
Throughout his/her writing, the author of Hebrews creates a new,
composite Christology by combining elements of traditional cult
metaphors. Evidence that this is a conscious, innovative process may
be found at the end of the writing. There the metaphor of Christ’s
sacrifice that happens once for all time occurs in juxtaposition to
49
Koester, Hebrews, 439, with reference to, among others, Harold W. Attridge,
“The Uses of Antithesis in Hebrews 8–10,” HTR 79 (1986): 9.
50
Cf. Wilhelm Thüsing, “‘Lasst uns hinzutreten . . .’ (Heb 10,22): Zur Frage nach
dem Sinn der Kulttheologie im Hebräerbrief,” BZ 9 (1965): 1–17.
the continuous sacrifices of the Christian community consisting of

praise and a righteous lifestyle:
DiÚ ka‹ ÉIhsoËw, ·na ègiãs˙ diå toË fid¤ou a·matow tÚn laÒn, ¶jv t∞w
pÊlhw ¶payen.
Therefore Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the
people by means of his own blood. (Heb 13:12)
DiÉ aÈtoË [oÔn] énaf°rvmen yus¤an afin°sevw diå pantÚw t“ ye“, toËtÉ
¶stin karpÚn xeil°vn ımologoÊntvn t“ ÙnÒmati aÈtoË. t∞w d¢ eÈpoi˝aw
ka‹ koinvn¤aw mØ §pilanyãnesye: toiaÊtaiw går yus¤aiw eÈareste›tai ı
yeÒw.
Through him then let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise, that
is, the fruit of lips confessing his name. Do not neglect acts of kind-
ness and fellowship, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God. (Heb 13:15–16)
Summary of section 2: The early Christian community continued a
tradition of cult metaphors found already in the hb⁄ot. In the process
of appropriation the contents of these metaphors generally remained
without change. Thus the metaphor of the blood (of Jesus), which
refers to the crucifixion, conveys the idea that Christians are purified
and consecrated by means of this blood as a necessary prerequisite
of approaching the holy God. In this image the death of Jesus appears
as the precondition for the availability of his blood, hence for sal-
vation. In nt writings with the exception of Hebrews, the metaphor
of sacrifice conveys notions such as “offering” and “acceptability.” It
is particularly a reference to the burning rite of the Judean sacrificial
cult. In the nt it is applied to both goods (Phil 4:18) and human
beings, implying that the surrender of life is not at the center of this
image. In christological contexts (Eph 5:2), therefore, the sacrifice of
Jesus cannot be understood as an exclusive reference to the crucifixion.
Instead it points to Christ’s whole life as an example of Christian love.
The Epistle to the Hebrews builds on these two types of tradi-
tional cult metaphors, but ultimately connects them. While initially
stating that Christ sacrifices prayers (Heb 5:7), Hebrews gradually devel-
ops the contents of this metaphor. It is combined with the imagery
of the Day of Atonement, which is governed by blood application
rites that effect purification (Heb 9). As a result, the ambiguous
metaphor of the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ offered once for all
(Heb 10:10) evolves to include a reference to the crucifixion. Hebrews
thus establishes a new, composite christological image. Its effect is
twofold: it implies Christ’s transition from earth to heaven where he

now serves as the heavenly high priest, and it communicates the cul-
tic purification that Christians obtain in order to approach the heav-
enly sanctuary.51
Dr. theol. Christian Eberhart

Associate Professor of New Testament
Lutheran Theological Seminary Saskatoon
114 Seminary Crescent, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan S7N 0X3, Canada
[email protected]
51
I am grateful to Harold W. Attridge who, through his insightful and con-
structive comments on my presentation during the 2003 International SBL Conference
in Cambridge, UK, has helped me to develop and refine my arguments.
COVENANT, CULT, AND THE CURSE-OF-DEATH:
DiayÆkh IN HEB 9:15–22
Scott W. Hahn
1. Covenant and Cult in Hebrews
The Book of Hebrews has typically been regarded as anomalous in

biblical studies for a variety of reasons, one of which is its unusual
emphasis on the concept of “covenant” (diayÆkh), which is treated
differently and much more extensively in Hebrews than in any other
New Testament book. Just over half of the occurrences of the word
diayÆkh in the New Testament (17 of 33) are in Hebrews alone.
Moreover, Hebrews is unique in the emphasis it places on “covenant”
as a cultic and liturgical institution.
A new phase in modern studies of the biblical concept of “covenant”
(tyrIB] mt, diayÆkh lxx) began in the middle of the last century with
George E. Mendenhall’s work comparing the form of Hittite vassal
treaties to the Sinai covenant of Exodus.1 Scholars since Mendenhall
have either challenged or defended his arguments for the antiquity
of the covenant concept in Israelite religion, but have generally stayed
within the framework Mendenhall established for the discussion, view-
ing “covenant” as a legal institution and using the extant treaties
between ancient Near Eastern states as the primary texts for com-
parison and engagement with the biblical materials.2 Thus, covenants
1
George E. Mendenhall, Law and Covenant in Israel and the Ancient Near East
(Pittsburgh: The Biblical Colloquium, 1955).
2
Notice how often “law” or “treaty” occurs in the titles of the following impor-
tant studies on biblical covenants: Herbert B. Huffmon, “The Covenant Lawsuit,”
JBL 78 (1959): 285–295; Dennis J. McCarthy, Treaty and Covenant (AnBib 21; Rome:
Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1963 [2d ed., 1978]); Meredith G. Kline, Treaty of the
Great King: The Covenant Structure of Deuteronomy: Studies and Commentary (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1963); Rintje Frankena, “The Vassal Treaties of Esarhaddon and the
Dating of Deuteronomy,” OTS 14 (1965): 140–154; Hayim Tadmor, “Treaty and
Oath in the Ancient Near East: A Historian’s Approach,” in Humanizing America’s
Iconic Book (ed. Gene M. Tucker and Douglas A. Knight; Chico: Scholars Press,
1982), 125–152; George E. Mendenhall, “The Suzerainty Treaty Structure: Thirty
Years Later,” in Religion and Law (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1990), 85–100.
66 scott w. hahn
in biblical scholarship have generally been considered under the

aspect of “law.”
Scholarship has tended, however, to neglect the fact that even
these ancient Near Eastern treaty-covenants had a pronounced cultic-
liturgical dimension.3 The covenants were often concluded by lengthy
invocations of nearly the entire Near Eastern pantheon, calling upon
the gods to witness elaborate sacred oaths confirmed by ritual sacrifices
and to enforce those oaths with blessings for faithfulness and curses
for transgression.4 Thus, the establishment of covenants consisted
essentially of a liturgy: ritual words and actions performed in the
presence of Divinity. The liturgical dimension of covenant-making
appears quite clearly in the ot, where the covenant is established
through cultic ritual (e.g., Exod 24:4–11) and liturgical functionar-
ies or “celebrants” (i.e., priests and Levites) mediate the covenant
blessings and curses on behalf of God (Num 6:22–27; Deut 27:14–26).
Reflecting on the ot traditions of “covenant,” the author of
Hebrews, while not forgetting the legal dimension, places the liturgi-
cal (or cultic) in the foreground. This is most obvious in chs. 8–9 of
Hebrews,5 in which the author contrasts two covenant orders: the
old (Heb 8:3–9:10) and the new (Heb 9:11–28). Both covenant orders
have a cultus which includes a high priest (Heb 8:1, 3; 9:7, 11, 25,
érxiereÊw) or “celebrant” (Heb 8:2, 6, leitourgÒw) who performs min-
istry (Heb 8:5; 9:1, 6, latre¤a) in a tent-sanctuary (Heb 8:2, 5; 9:2–3,
6, 8, 11, 21, skhnÆ), entering into a Holy Place (Heb 8:2; 9:2–3,
12, 24, ëgia) to offer (Heb 8:3; 9:7, 14, 28, prosf°rv) the blood
(Heb 9:7, 12, 14, 18–23, 25, aÂma) of sacrifices (Heb 8:3–4, 9:9, 23,
26, yus¤ai) which effects purification (Heb 9:13, ègiãzv; Heb 9:14,
22–23, kayar¤zv) and redemption (Heb 9:12, 15, lÊtrvsiw) of wor-
shippers (Heb 8:10, 9:7, 19, laÒw; Heb 9:9, 14, latreÊontew) who
3
An exception is the essay by John M. Lundquist, “Temple, Covenant, and Law
in the Ancient Near East and in the Hebrew Bible,” in Israel’s Apostasy and Restoration:
Essays in Honor of Roland K. Harrison (ed. Gileadi Avraham; Grand Rapids: Baker,
1988), 293–305.
4
Cf. ANET 200–201; 205–206; 532–535, 538–541.
5
On the cultic background of Heb 9, see James Swetnam, “A Suggested
Interpretation of Hebrews 9,15–18,” CBQ 27 (1965): 375; Johannes Behm, “diayÆkh,”
TDNT 2:131–132; Ceslas Spicq, L’Épître aux Hébreux (2 vols.; Paris: Gabalda, 1952),
2:246–247; Albert Vanhoye, Old Testament Priests and the New Priest According to the
New Testament (trans. J. B. Orchard; Studies in Scripture; Petersham, Mass.: St.
Bede’s, 1986), 176–177.
covenant, cult, and the curse-of-death 67
have transgressed cultic law (Heb 8:4; 9:19, nÒmow).6 The mediation
of both covenants is primarily cultic, the sacred realm of liturgy.
The legal nature of the covenant is not absent, however. The two
aspects of the covenant, legal and liturgical, are inextricably bound
in a reciprocal relationship. On the one hand, cultic acts (i.e., sacrificial
rites) establish the covenant (Heb 9:18–21, 23), and also renew it
(Heb 9:7; 10:3). On the other hand, the covenantal law provides the
legal framework for the cult, determining the suitable persons, mate-
rials, acts, and occasions for worship (Heb 7:11–28; 9:1–5). Thus,
the liturgy mediates the covenant, while covenant law regulates the
liturgy.
The legal and liturgical aspects of the covenant are united in
Christ himself, who is simultaneously king (the highest legal author-
ity) and high priest (the highest liturgical celebrant). This dual role
of Christ as priest and king, running as a theme throughout the
book, is announced already in Heb 1:3, where Christ “sits down at
the right hand of the Majesty in heaven” (i.e., a royal act) after hav-
ing “provided purification for sins” (a priestly function). It is brought
to its quintessential expression by the use of Melchizedek—both
“King of Salem” and “Priest of God Most High” (Heb 7:1)—as a
principal type of Christ.
Hebrews’ vision of a cultic covenant, with close integration of law
and liturgy, is difficult for modern scholarship to appreciate. Western
modernity, as heir to the Enlightenment concept of “separation of
church and state,” has tended to privatize liturgy and secularize law,
resulting in an irreconcilable divorce between the two. On the occa-
sions when liturgy does appear in the public square, it is generally
either dismissed as superstition or critiqued (reductionistically) as rit-
ualized politics. In any case, Hebrews confronts us with a radically
different vision: law and liturgy as distinguishable but inseparable
aspects of a single covenant relationship between God and his people.
It is my thesis in this study that, in order to understand the Book
of Hebrews, we must be prepared to enter into its own cultural
6
Cf. William L. Lane, Hebrews 9–13 (WBC 47b; Dallas: Word, 1991), 235: “The
manner in which the argument is set forth presupposes the cultic orientation of
9:1–10 and its leading motif, that access to God is possible only through the medium
of blood (9:7). The basis for the exposition in 9:11–28 is not primarily theological.
It is the religious conviction that blood is the medium of purgation from defilement. . . .
The essence of the two covenants is found in their cultic aspects; the total argu-
ment is developed in terms of cultus. . . . The interpreter must remain open to the
internal logic of the argument from the cultus.”
68 scott w. hahn
worldview, with its unity of liturgy and law; and that doing so will
elucidate a long-standing interpretive crux: the meaning of diayÆkh
in Heb 9:15–18.
The methodology that I employ is in some ways classical textual
exegesis, that is, examining the grammar and syntax of the text in
the light of its historical and religious context. But since I empha-
size the legal and liturgical aspects of the covenant in their integra-
tion, a more deliberate application of the social-scientific approach
is appropriate. This methodology is associated with the scholars Bruce
J. Malina, John J. Pilch, Richard Rohrbaugh, and others.7 David A.
deSilva has applied social-scientific methods specifically to the inter-
pretation of Hebrews.8
Regrettably, most of the social-scientific study of the New Testament
in the past decades has focused on the Greco-Roman world, not the
significance of the unique cultural institutions of First and Second
Temple Israel (or Judea) herself—the covenant, cult, priesthood, tem-
ple, etc.—and how these institutions shaped the cultural worldview
of the New Testament authors. John Dunnill’s monograph Covenant
and Sacrifice in the Letter to the Hebrews represents a breakthrough in
this regard.9 Dunnill not only applies social-scientific methods to the
analysis of the distinctly Israelite-Jewish values and cultural institu-
tions characterizing the Book of Hebrews, but also incorporates
methodological insights from the religious anthropology of Mary
Douglas and Victor Turner.10 In what follows, I will build on Dunnill’s
7
Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (3d
ed.; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox, 2001); idem, Christian Origins and Cultural
Anthropology: Practical Models for Biblical Interpretation (Atlanta: John Knox, 1986); idem,
Windows on the World of Jesus: Time Travel to Ancient Judea (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/
John Knox, 1993); John J. Pilch, Introducing the Cultural Context of the New Testament
(New York: Paulist, 1991); John J. Pilch and Bruce J. Malina, Handbook of Biblical
Social Values (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1998); Richard Rohrbaugh, ed., The
Social Sciences and New Testament Interpretation (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1996);
David G. Horrell, Social-Scientific Approaches to New Testament Interpretation (Edinburgh:
T&T Clark, 1999); Philip F. Esler, ed., Modelling Early Christianity: Social-Scientific Study
of the New Testament in its Context (London: Routledge, 1995).
8
David A. deSilva, Despising Shame: Honor Discourse and Community Maintenance in
the Epistle to the Hebrews (SBLDS 152; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995); idem, Perseverance
in Gratitude: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on the Epistle “To the Hebrews” (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 2000).
9
John Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice in the Letter to the Hebrews (SNTSMS 75;
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).
10
Mary L. Douglas, Natural Symbols: Explorations in Cosmology (2d ed.; New York:
Routledge, 1996); idem, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo
work while attempting to unravel the difficulties presented by Heb

9:15–18.
2. Hebrews 9:15–18: A Crux Interpretum
Hebrews’ concept of covenant, with liturgy and law intertwined, may

actually be at work in the one passage of Hebrews where the author
seems to dispense with his usual cultic categories for understanding
covenant. Ironically, the problematic passage occurs in the middle
of Heb 9, the chapter with the densest concentration of cultic lan-
guage and imagery in the book. In Heb 9:16–17, according to most
commentators, the author abandons his Israelite, cultic understand-
ing of diayÆkh, “covenant,”11 and appeals to the Greco-Roman, sec-
ular definition of diayÆkh as “last will or testament.”12 In the usual
translations, the author seems, in the course of Heb 9:15–18, to slip
between the two quite distinct meanings in a facile manner:
For this reason he is the mediator of a new covenant (diayÆkh), so
that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheri-
tance, because a death has occurred that redeems them from the trans-
gressions under the first covenant (diayÆkh). For where a will (diayÆkh)
is involved, the death of the one who made it must be established.
For a will (diayÆkh) takes effect only at death, since it is not in force
as long as the one who made it is alive. Hence not even the first
covenant (diayÆkh) was inaugurated without blood. (Heb 9:15–18 nrsv)
As can be seen, the nrsv follows the majority of commentators and
translators by taking diayÆkh in the sense of “will” or “testament”
in Heb 9:16–17, even though the word clearly has the meaning
“covenant” in vv. 15 and 18, and indeed in every other occurrence
in Hebrews.13 Nonetheless, it is not difficult to see why this approach
(New York: Routledge, 1966); Victor W. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-
Structure (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1966).
11
On the use of diayÆkh with the meaning “covenant” in most Jewish Hellenistic
literature, see Behm, TDNT 2:126–129.
12
For diayÆkh in secular Greek, see Johannes Behm and Gottfried Quell, TDNT
2:106–134, esp. 124–126.
13
Cf. neb, jb, tev, niv, nab (only the nasb translates “covenant” in vv. 16–17).
Commentators endorsing “testament” in vv. 16–17 include: Gerhardus Vos, The
Teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1956), 27–48; George
W. Buchanan, To the Hebrews (AB 36; Garden City: Doubleday, 1972), 151; Thomas
G. Long, Hebrews (IBC; Louisville: John Knox, 1997), 99; Harold W. Attridge,
Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 253–256; Paul Ellingworth,
70 scott w. hahn
enjoys majority support.14 In Heb 9:15, the context seems to demand

the sense of “covenant,” since only a covenant has a mediator (mes¤thw)
and reference is made to the first diayÆkh, which the author clearly
regards as a covenant. However, in Heb 9:16, the requirement for
the “death of the one who made it” would seem to suggest the trans-
lation “will” or “testament,” since covenants did not require the
death of their makers. Likewise, in Heb 9:17, the statement that a
diayÆkh takes effect only at death and is not in force while the maker
is alive seems to apply only to a testament. However, in Heb 9:18,
the topic returns again to “the first diayÆkh,” that is, the Sinai event,
which can scarcely be anything but a covenant.
Nevertheless, while the alteration between the meanings “testament”
and “covenant” seems required semantically, the resulting argument
is not logically satisfying. A “testament” simply is not a “covenant,”
and it is hard to see how the analogy between the two has any
validity. In a “testament,” one party dies and leaves an inheritance
for another. In a “covenant,” a relationship is established between
two living parties, often through a mediator. Testaments do not
require mediators, and covenants do not require the death of one
of the parties. Moreover, it is hard to understand either the “new”
or the “old” covenants—as portrayed in Hebrews—as a “testament.”
If the old covenant is understood as a “testament,” God would be
the “testator”; yet it is absurd to think of God dying and leaving an
inheritance to Israel. In the new covenant, Christ indeed dies, but
he is a mediator (Heb 9:15; 12:24), not a “testator.” Moreover, he
does not die in order to leave an inheritance to the Church, but
rather to enter the inheritance himself (Heb 1:3–4; 2:9; 9:11–12;
10:12–13), which he then shares with his “brothers” (Heb 2:10–3:6).
Clearly, then, the mode of the inheritance of salvation in Hebrews
is based on a Jewish covenantal and not a Greco-Roman testa-
mentary model.15 Therefore, it is hard to see how the analogy the
Commentary on Hebrews (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 462–463; Victor

C. Pfitzner, Hebrews (ANTC; Nashville: Abingdon, 1997), 131; Craig R. Koester,
Hebrews (AB 36; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 418, 424–426.
14
See Swetnam, “Suggested Interpretation,” 374–375, for a succinct summary
of the case.
15
Cf. Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 46–47: “Though Hebrews exhibits Alexandrian
[i.e. Hellenistic] terminology . . . in every case the substance of the thought is Jewish . . .
The Hellenistic element overlays a mind thinking in the categories of the Old
Testament cultus.” Although it came to be used in later periods, the institution of
the testament is not native to Israelite-Jewish culture, which traditionally practiced
intestate (non-testamentary) succession, in which the first-born son enjoyed a privi-
author draws in Heb 9:15–18 has any cogency. The awkwardness

of the argument has led a few commentators to propose taking
diayÆkh as “covenant” in Heb 9:16–17 (see below), but most retain
the sense “testament” while expressing their discomfort:
Among the many references to covenants, new and old, the word-play
on diayÆkh which compares them to a secular will seems strangely
banal, and the argument that Jesus’ death was necessary because “where
there is a will the death of the testator must be established” (9:16) is
simply irrelevant to the theology of the new covenant.16
Basically the idea of testament fits into the passage very clumsily.17
[The author] jumps from the religious to the current legal sense of
diayÆkh . . . involving himself in contradictions which show that there
is no real parallel.18
Is it really the case that the author of Hebrews, usually so theolog-
ically and rhetorically brilliant, has committed here a logical and
theological faux pas, a minor blunder tearing the otherwise seamless
coherence of his homiletical masterpiece?19 I am inclined to think
leged share. The first-born had no privileged status in Greco-Roman succession (see
Larry R. Helyer, “The Pròtotokos Title in Hebrews,” Studia Biblica et Theologica 6
[1976]: 17). The fact that the author of Hebrews thinks in terms of Israelite-Jewish
inheritance custom can be seen in the strategic use of the concept prvtÒtokow (first-
born) in Heb 1:6 and 12:23.
16
Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 250–251.
17
George D. Kilpatrick, “DiayÆkh in Hebrews,” ZNW 68 (1977): 263.
18
Behm, TDNT 2:131. Many other advocates of diayÆkh-as-testament also feel
the tension caused by the abrupt switch in meaning, e.g., F. F. Bruce, The Epistle
to the Hebrews (rev. ed.; NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1990), 461; Pfitzner,
Hebrews, 131; Ellingworth, Hebrews, 462; Swetnam, “Suggested Interpretation,” 373.
Currently it seems popular to defuse this tension somewhat by describing the author
as engaged in “playful” rhetorical argument which—while not logically valid—would
amuse the audience or readership with its clever word-play (Attridge, Hebrews,
253–254; similarly Long, Hebrews, 98–99). Unfortunately, in order to be rhetorically
effective an argument must at least appear to be valid. A blatantly false example
cited as proof, or a syllogism whose errors are apparent to all, tends to discredit
the speaker and his argument. It is doubtful whether the argument of Heb 9:16–17
would have had even apparent validity under a testamentary interpretation.
19
On the coherence and brilliance of Hebrews’ thought and expression, see
Attridge, Hebrews, 1: “[Hebrews is] the most elegant and sophisticated . . . text of
first-century Christianity. . . . Its argumentation is subtle; its language refined; its
imagery rich and evocative . . . a masterpiece of early Christian rhetorical homilet-
ics”; Albert Vanhoye, The Structure and Message of the Epistle to the Hebrews (Subsidia
Biblica 12; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1989), 32–33: “Pause for a moment
to admire the literary perfection of [this] priestly sermon. . . . One sees how the
author is concerned about writing well . . . [his] talent is seen especially in the har-
mony of his composition”; Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 8: “[The interpreter must]
capitalize on the strong impression of the unity of its imaginative world which any
72 scott w. hahn
not. In what follows, I will propose that if diayÆkh is understood as

“covenant” in Heb 9:16–17, there is a way of interpreting the pas-
sage which confirms the coherence of thought of the author, who
seems to be explicating the legal implications of the liturgical act which
established the first covenant.
First, I will point out certain frequently-overlooked difficulties with
the usual interpretation of diayÆkh as “testament” in Heb 9:16–17;
second, critique some previous attempts to understand diayÆkh as
“covenant” in these verses; and finally, outline an original interpre-
tive proposal which, I believe, has greater explanatory power than
others offered to date.
2.1. Difficulties with DiayÆkh as “Testament”

The troubles with diayÆkh as “testament” in Heb 9:15–18 go deeper
than the mere fact that the word so translated renders the argument
of the passage obscure if not simply fallacious. John J. Hughes has
pointed out these difficulties at length elsewhere.20 I will summarize
some of Hughes’ observations here, focusing on the lexical, gram-
matical and legal problems with rendering diayÆkh as “testament”
in these verses.
2.1.1. Lexical Issues

Outside of Heb 9:16–17 the author of Hebrews uses diayÆkh only
in its Septuagintal sense of “covenant” (tyriB)] .21 Moreover, the term
diayÆkh (and the concept of “covenant”) occurs more often and
receives greater attention and emphasis in Hebrews than in any other
New Testament book.22 Most of the occurrences of the word (15 of
17) occur in the extended discussion of Christ-as-high-priest from
reading of Hebrews communicates. . . . It is generally agreed that Hebrews exhibits

a marked theological coherence”; and Brooke F. Westcott, The Epistle to the Hebrews:
The Greek Text with Notes and Essays (2d ed., 1892; repr., Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1980), xlvi–xlvii: “The style is . . . characteristic of a practised scholar. It would be
difficult to find anywhere passages more exact and pregnant in expression. . . . The
writing shows everywhere the traces of effort and care. . . . Each element, which
seems at first sight to offer itself spontaneously, will be found to have been care-
fully adjusted to its place, and to offer in subtle details results of deep thought.”
Cf. also Swetnam, “Suggested Interpretation,” 375.
20
John J. Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff. and Galatians III 15ff.: A Study in Covenant
Practice and Procedure,” NovT 21 (1976–77): 27–96.
21
Cf. Behm, TDNT 2:132; Lane, Hebrews, 230.
22
Cf. Vos, Hebrews, 27.
Heb 7–10, with seven occurrences in Heb 9 alone. Since the word
is central to the author’s thought, and in every instance outside Heb
9:16–17 has the meaning “covenant,” Hughes remarks: “As a mat-
ter of a priori concern one should at least be exceedingly cautious
in attributing a meaning to diayÆkh in [Heb] 9:15–22 that is so for-
eign to the author’s use of the word elsewhere.”23
2.1.2. Grammatical Issues

Several scholars have noted grammatical irregularities in the use of
f°resyai (Heb 9:16b) and §p‹ nekro›w (Heb 9:17a).24 If Heb 9:16b
had testamentary practice in view, one would expect ˜pou går diayÆkh,
diay°menon énãgkh époyane›n, “where there is a testament, it is nec-
essary for the testator to die” (italics added). The circumlocution yãna-
ton énãgkh f°resyai toË diayem°nou seems unnecessary. The nrsv
translates, “the death of the one who made it must be established ”
(italics added), but similar usage in the rest of the New Testament
or the lxx cannot be found. F°rv frequently occurs in legal con-
texts (biblical and non-biblical) but in the sense of “bring a report,
claim, or charge,” not a death. The expression should be f°resyai
énãgkh tÚn lÒgon toË yanãtou, “it is necessary for the report of the
death to be brought.”25
Another grammatical strain occurs at Heb 9:17a, diayÆkh går §p‹
nekro›w beba¤a, which the nrsv renders, “a will takes effect only at
death.” A literal translation, however, would read “for a diayÆkh is
confirmed upon dead [bodies].” ÉEp‹ nekro›w cannot be taken as “at
death” (§p‹ nekr“ or §p‹ nekr≈sei), although this is the sense demanded
by a testamentary interpretation of diayÆkh.26 The use of the plural
(nekro›w, “dead [bodies]”) is particularly awkward if indeed the author
was intending to speak of the death of the testator.27
Both of these grammatical irregularities become intelligible when
diayÆkh is taken as “covenant” in the manner I will outline below.
23
Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 32–33.
24
Cf. Kilpatrick, “DiayÆkh,” 265; Westcott, Hebrews, 301.
25
Lexicographers treat it as a special case of f°rv, being unable to produce any
analogous citations. Cf. LSJ 1923a (def. A.IV.4, “announce”), BAGD 855b (def.
4.a.b, “establish”), L&N 667b–668a (§70.5, “show”). Note Ellingworth’s honesty:
“Exact parallels to this statement have not been found” (Hebrews, 464); and Attridge’s
polite understatement: “The sense of f°resyai is somewhat uncertain” (Hebrews, 256).
26
Lane, Hebrews, 232; George Milligan, The Theology of the Epistle to the Hebrews
(Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1899), 169.
27
Attridge admits, “The phrase referring to the testator’s death, ‘for the dead’
(§p‹ nekro›w), is somewhat odd” (Hebrews, 256). Likewise, Swetnam recognizes the
oddity and offers a singular explanation for it (“Suggested Interpretation,” 378).
74 scott w. hahn
2.1.3. Legal Issues

Hughes demonstrates that the characteristics of a diayÆkh in Heb
9:16–17 do not, in fact, correspond to those of secular Hellenistic
or Roman diay∞kai. For example, the ratification or validation
(beba¤vsiw) of wills in Hellenistic, Egyptian, and Roman law was not
“over the dead [bodies]” (Heb 9:17, §p‹ nekro›w):
It is simply untrue and completely lacking in classical and papyrolog-
ical support to maintain that, given the legal technical terms (b°baiow,
fisxÊv, and perhaps §gkain¤zv) and their consistent meanings, a will or
testament was only legally valid when the testator died . . . It is impos-
sible, not just unlikely, that [Heb 9:16–17] refer to any known form
of Hellenistic (or indeed any other) legal practice.28
A Hellenistic will was legally valid (b°baiow) not when the testator
died, but when it was written down, witnessed, and deposited with
a notary.29 Moreover, the inheritance was not always subsequent to
the death of the testator, as Heb 9:17 would imply. Distribution of
the estate while the testator(s) was still living (inter vivos) was wide-
spread in the Hellenistic world.30 Only a few instances of donatio inter
vivos known to the readers of Hebrews would have subverted the
emphatic statement of Heb 9:17b (§pe‹ mÆpote fisxÊei ˜te zª ı dia-
y°menow)31 and destroyed its rhetorical effectiveness.32
28
Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 61.
29
Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 60.
30
Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 62, citing Hans J. Wolff, “Hellenistic Private
Law,” in The Jewish People in the First Century: Historical Geography, Political History, Social,
Cultural and Religious Life and Institutions (2 vols.; ed. Shemuel Safrai and Manahem
Stern; CRINT, sec. 1; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1974), 1:534–560, here 543; and Rafal
Taubenschlag, The Law of Greco-Roman Egypt in Light of the Papyri 322 BC–640 AD
(2d ed.; Warsaw: Panstwowe Wydawnictwo Naukowe, 1955), 207–208.
31
On mÆpote as a strong negative, see Ellingworth, Hebrews, 464. The sense would
not be “wills do not usually have force while the testator lives,” but “they certainly
do not,” or perhaps “they never do” (cf. niv, asv).
32
Subsequent responses to Hughes’ demonstration (“Hebrews IX 15ff.,” pub-
lished 1979) of the lack of correspondence between Heb 9:16–17 and Greco-Roman
testamentary law have been surprisingly weak. Curiously, Attridge, publishing almost
thirteen years after Hughes’ seventy-page NovT article, makes no reference to Hughes
or his arguments (Cf. Attridge, Hebrews, 255–256 n. 25, 419). Ellingworth, while
aware of Hughes, does not rebut him, although his comment “énãgkh is here used
[in v. 16] not strictly of a legal requirement” (Hebrews, 464) seems a concession to
Hughes’ evidence that testaments were validated by a notary and not by death.
Likewise, Koester, who feels Hughes’ arguments more strongly, has to nuance and
mitigate the sense of Heb 9:17 to accommodate Hughes’ point that the language
is not legally accurate (Hebrews, 418, 425). Koester also cites a papyrus death-notice
as proof of his assertion that “legally people had to present evidence that the testator
had died for a will to take effect” (Hebrews, 418, 425), but the papyrus cited does
not actually mention a will or inheritance as being at issue in the notice of death.
2.2. Previous Proposals for DiayÆkh as “Covenant” in Heb 9:16–17

The various difficulties with reading diayÆkh as “testament” noted
above have led several scholars to maintain the author’s usual mean-
ing “covenant” for diayÆkh in Heb 9:16–17.33 These scholars have,
in my opinion, moved the discussion in the proper direction by seek-
ing to explain Heb 9:16–17 in terms of the cultic rituals involved
in biblical and ancient Near Eastern covenant-making. In these rites,
the covenant-maker (ı diay°menow) swore a self-maledictory oath (i.e.,
a curse), which was then ritually enacted by the death of animals
representing the covenant-maker.34 The bloody sacrifice of the ani-
mal(s) symbolized the fate of the covenant-maker should he prove
false to his covenantal obligations.35 The meaning of Heb 9:16–17
may be paraphrased as follows: Where there is a covenant, it is nec-
essary that the death of the covenant-maker be represented (by ani-
mal sacrifices); for a covenant is confirmed over dead bodies (sacrificial
animals), since it is never valid while the covenant-maker is still rit-
ually “alive.”
2.2.1. The Covenantal Background of Heb 9:16–17

As background for the covenantal interpretation of Heb 9:16–17, it
may be useful to cite some relevant examples to demonstrate the
following: (1) biblical and ancient Near Eastern covenant-making
entailed the swearing of an oath, (2) this oath was a conditional self-
malediction, i.e., a curse, (3) the content of the curse usually con-
sisted of the covenant-maker’s death, and (4) the curse-of-death was
often pre-enacted through sacrificial rituals.
(1) Covenant-Making and Oath-Swearing. The swearing of an oath was

closely associated with the making of a covenant. In fact, the two
terms, oath (hl;a;) and covenant (tyrIB]), are sometimes used inter-
changeably, e.g., in Ezek 17:13–19:
33
E.g., Westcott, Hebrews, 298–302; Milligan, Hebrews, 166–170; John Brown, An
Exposition of the Epistle of the Apostle Paul to the Hebrews (ed. D. Smith; New York:
R. Carter, 1862; repr. Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth Trust, 1972), 407–419;
Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 27–96; Lane, Hebrews, 226–252; Darrell J. Pursiful,
The Cultic Motif in the Spirituality of the Book of Hebrews (Lewiston, N.Y.: Edwin Mellen,
1993), 77–79.
34
E.g., Westcott, Hebrews, 301; Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 40–42; Lane, Hebrews,
241–243.
35
Hughes, “Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 41; Lane, Hebrews, 242.
76 scott w. hahn
And he took one of the seed royal and made a covenant (tyrIB]) with
him, putting him under oath (hl;a;). (The chief men of the land he had
taken away, that the kingdom might be humble and not lift itself up,
and that by keeping his covenant it might stand.) But he rebelled against
him by sending ambassadors to Egypt, that they might give him horses
and a large army. Will he succeed? Can a man escape who does such
things? Can he break the covenant and yet escape? As I live, says the
Lord GOD, surely in the place where the king dwells who made him
king, whose oath he despised, and whose covenant with him he broke,
in Babylon he shall die. . . . Because he despised the oath and broke
the covenant, because he gave his hand and yet did all these things, he
shall not escape. Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: As I live, surely
my oath which he despised, and my covenant which he broke, I will
requite upon his head. (italics added, rsv)
In light of Ezek 17:13–19 and similar texts, the close inter-relationship
between “covenant” and “oath” is a commonplace among scholars
who work with ancient Near Eastern covenant materials:36
It is now recognized that the sine qua non of “covenant” in its normal
sense appears to be its ratifying oath, whether this was verbal or sym-
bolic (a so-called “oath sign”).37
[B]erith as a commitment has to be confirmed by an oath: Gen. 21:22ff.;
26:26ff.; Deut. 29:9ff. (10ff.); Josh. 9:15–20; 2 K. 11:4; Ezk. 16:8;
17:13ff.38
(2) Covenant Oath as Conditional Self-Malediction. The oath by which a

covenant was ratified was a conditional self-malediction (self-curse),
an invocation of the divinity to inflict judgment upon the oath-
swearer should he fail to fulfill the sworn stipulations of the covenant.
36
See Gordon P. Hugenberger, Marriage as a Covenant: A Study of Biblical Law &
Ethics Governing Marriage, Developed from the Perspective of Malachi (VTSup 52; Leiden:
Brill, 1994), 183–184. Curse (hl;a); and covenant (tyrIB)] appear in semantic prox-
imity in the following texts: Hos 10:4; Deut 29:11, 13 mt (ET 29:12, 14); Ezek 16
as shown above; and Gen 26:28. In Gen 24:1–67, hl;a; and h[;buv] are used inter-
changeably; and elsewhere (Deut 4:31; 7:12; 8:18; 31:20; Josh 9:15; 2 Kgs 11:4;
Ezek 16:8; Ps 89:3) it is apparent that h[;buv] [B'v]ni and tyrIB] tr'K; are functionally
equivalent. For a Phoenician example of the relationship between curse and covenant,
see Ziony Zevit, “A Phoenician Inscription and Biblical Covenant Theology,” IEJ
27 (1977): 110–118.
37
Hugenberger, Marriage as Covenant, 4; citing James Barr, “Some Semantic Notes
on the Covenant,” in Beiträge zur Alttestamentlichen Theologie: Festschrift für Walther Zimmerli
zum 70. Geburtstag (ed. Herbert Donner, Robert Hanhart, and Rudolf Smend;
Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1977), 23–28.
38
Moshe Weinfeld, “tyrIB] berîth,” TDOT 2:256. See also Hugenberger, Marriage
as Covenant, 182–184.
A fourteenth-century bce Hittite covenant expressed this principle as

follows: “May the oaths sworn in the presence of these gods break
you like reeds, you . . . together with your country. May they exter-
minate from the earth your name and your seed.”39 Likewise, in
Ezek 17:13–19, it is evident from the divine threats to enforce the
oath that the making of the covenant involved a conditional curse-
of-death (e.g., Ezek 17:16, 19). The word “curse,” in fact, came to
be functionally equivalent to “covenant” and “oath.” Hugenberger
remarks, “The fact that hl;a; (originally meaning “curse,” cf. Gen
24:41; Deut 29:19 mt [ET 29:20]; 30:7; Isa 24:6; Jer 23:10; Pss 10:7;
59:13) is used [to mean “covenant”] serves to emphasize the hypo-
thetical self-curse which underlies biblical oaths—that is, if the oath
should be broken, a curse will come into effect.”40
(3) Death as the Content of the Curse. That the curse for covenant vio-
lation was typically death can be seen quite clearly in the passage
from Ezekiel cited above (17:16), in the covenant curses of Lev 26
and Deut 28,41 and in other biblical passages which explicitly men-
tion the violation of the covenant being sanctioned by death42 or
mortal punishment.43 Likewise, among extant ancient Near Eastern
covenant documents, death by excruciating or humiliating means,
accompanied by various other calamities, is frequently the content
of the oath-curse.44 At Qumran it is a commonplace that “the sword
avenges the covenant”45 resulting in death.46 Dunnill’s observation is
apposite:
39
ANET 206b.
40
Hugenberger, Marriage as Covenant, 194. Sometimes the curse is only implicit.
See Hugenberger, Marriage as Covenant, 200–201. Some biblical examples are 1 Sam
3:17; 14:44; 20:13; 25:22; 2 Sam 3:9; 3:35; 19:14 mt; 1 Kgs 2:23; 2 Kgs 6:31;
Ruth 1:17; Jer 42:5, in all of which the content of the curse is left unexpressed,
but may be presumed to be death.
41
Cf. Lev 26:14–39, esp. v. 30, but also vv. 16, 22, 25, 38; Deut 28:15–68, esp.
vv. 20, 22, 24, 26, 48, 51, 61.
42
Deut 4:23, 26; 17:2–7; Josh 7:11, 15; 23:16; Jer 22:8–12 (both death and
death-in-exile); Jer 34:18–21; Hos 8:11.
43
E.g., to be “devoured” (Deut 31:16); “consumed” and “burned’ (Isa 33:8–12;
Jer 11:10, 16); “destroyed’ (Hos 7:13 [cf. 6:7]).
44
Cf. ANET 179–180, 201, 205, 532, 534, 538–541. Note, too, that while not
all the curses are death per se, usually they are means of death: plague, famine,
siege, military defeat, etc.
45
See CD I, 3; I, 17–18; III, 10–11; 4Q266 2 I, 21; 4Q269 2 I, 6; 4Q390 1
I, 6. The reference to the “sword” is probably inspired by Lev 26:25.
46
See CD XV, 4–5; 1Q22 1 I, 10.
78 scott w. hahn
In both Greek and Hebrew [oaths] often take the form of a conditional
self-curse, the swearer invoking upon his or her own head penalties to
follow any breach of the undertaking. . . . Even where the context is
non-legal and the vagueness of the penalty shows the formula on the
way to becoming a figure of speech, in every case the invocation of
death is the guarantee of sincerity, placing the whole person behind
the promise made.47
(4) The Curse of Death Ritually Enacted. Several ancient Near Eastern
documents record the symbolic enactment of the curse-of-death dur-
ing the covenant-making ritual. One of the most celebrated exam-
ples is the eighth-century treaty of Ashurnirari V and Mati’ilu, the
King of Arpad, which includes the following enacted curse-ritual or
Drohritus:
This spring lamb has been brought from its fold . . . to sanction the
treaty between Ashurnirari and Mati’ilu. If Mati’ilu sins against (this)
treaty made under oath by the gods, then, just as this spring lamb . . . will
not return to its fold, alas, Mati’ilu . . . [will be ousted] from his coun-
try, will not return to his country, and not behold his country again.
This head is not the head of a lamb, it is the head of Mati’ilu. . . . If
Mati’ilu sins against this treaty, so may, just as the head of this spring
lamb is torn off . . . the head of Mati’ilu be torn off.48
Hugenberger draws the following conclusion:
In light of this and many similar examples [e.g., ANET 539f.], it is
possible . . . that the prominence of such cutting oath-signs in the
ratification ceremony for covenants gave rise to the widespread ter-
minology of “cutting” [tr'K;] a covenant as well as “cutting” a curse.49
The Bible records similar curse-rituals. Abraham’s bisection of ani-
mals in the covenant of Gen 15 represented a self-curse of death
for the covenant-maker—in this case, God himself. The significance
47
Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 249. Cf. O. Palmer Robertson: “The death of
the covenant-maker appears in two distinct stages. First it appears in the form of
a symbolic representation of the curse, anticipating possible covenantal violations.
Later the party who violates the covenant actually experiences death as a conse-
quence of his earlier commitment” (The Christ of the Covenants [Grand Rapids: Baker,
1980], 11–12).
48
ANET 532b.
49
Hugenberger, Marriage as Covenant, 195; Quell, TDNT 2:108. In light of the
evidence Hugenberger and others have adduced, Koester’s statement that “there is
little evidence that sacrifices represented the death of the one making the covenant”
is puzzling (Hebrews, 418).
of the Drohritus is elucidated by Jer 34:18–20,50 where the Lord

addresses the leaders of Jerusalem and Judah, who had made a
solemn covenant to release their slaves during the siege of Jerusalem
but promptly reneged on their commitment when the siege was lifted:
I will make the men who violated My covenant, who did not fulfill
the terms of the covenant which they made before Me, [like] the calf
which they cut in two so as to pass between the halves: The officers
of Judah and Jerusalem, the officials, the priests, and all the people of
the land who passed between the halves of the calf shall be handed
over to their enemies, to those who seek to kill them. Their carcasses
shall become food for the birds of the sky and the beasts of the earth.
(njps)
Significantly, each of the biblical covenants that concern the author
of Hebrews involves a Drohritus symbolizing the curse-of-death. The
covenant (or covenants) with Abraham (Heb 6:13–18; 11:17–19) is
confirmed by the bisection of animals (Gen 15:9–10), the rite of cir-
cumcision (Gen 17:10–14, 23–27), and the “sacrifice” of Isaac (Gen
22:13; Heb 6:14; 11:17–19).51 The Sinai covenant is solemnized by
the sprinkling of the people with the blood of the animal sacrifices
after their solemn promise to obey the covenant stipulations (Exod
24:3–8), conveying the concept, “As was done to the animals, so
may it be done to us if we fail to keep the covenant.”
2.2.2. The Exegesis of Heb 9:16–17 with DiayÆkh as “Covenant”

The advocates of diayÆkh-as-covenant propose this biblical and an-
cient Near Eastern background of covenant-by-self-maledictory-oath
as the context for Heb 9:16–17. In Heb 9:16, according to this view,
50
The scholarly support for viewing Gen 15 as a self-maledictory ritual enact-
ment in light of Jer 34 is strong, although some dispute it. See Quell, TDNT 2:116;
Hugenberger, Marriage as Covenant, 195 n. 109.
51
On the possibility that the covenant-making ceremonies in Gen 15 and 17 are
not parallel accounts of the same event but intentionally different covenants, see
T. Desmond Alexander, “A Literary Analysis of the Abraham Narrative in Genesis”
(Ph.D. diss.; The Queen’s University of Belfast, 1982), 49, 160–182. Heb 6:13–18
and 11:17–19 focus on the formulation of the Abrahamic covenant-oath found in
Gen 22:15–18. On the self-maledictory symbolism of circumcision, see Meredith G.
Kline, By Oath Consigned: A Reinterpretation of the Covenant Signs of Baptism and Circum-
cision (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1968), 39–49, 86–89, esp. 43; Hugenberger, Marriage
as Covenant, 196; and Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 177 n. 72. On the interrela-
tionship of the three Abrahamic covenant-making rituals, see Dunnill, Covenant and
Sacrifice, 177.
80 scott w. hahn
f°resyai should be translated “bring into the picture” or “intro-

duce.”52 The “death” (yãnatow) that must be “brought into the pic-
ture” (f°resyai) is the death of the covenant-maker (ı diay°menow),
symbolically represented by the sacrificial animals. Thus, Heb 9:16
(˜pou går diayÆkh, yãnaton énãgkh f°resyai toË diayem°nou) should
be translated, “For where there is a covenant, it is necessary to intro-
duce the [symbolic] death of the covenant-maker.” The following
statement of Heb 9:17, “for a covenant is ratified over dead [bod-
ies],” is a fairly accurate description of biblical and ancient Near
Eastern covenant-making practice. Hebrews 9:17b, “since it [a cove-
nant] is never in force while the covenant maker lives,” makes sense
if ˜te zª ı diay°menow (“while the covenant-maker lives”) is under-
stood symbolically, i.e., to mean “while the covenant-maker is still
ritually alive, not yet having undergone the death represented by the
sacrificial animals.”
Hebrews 9:18–22, which speaks of the sprinkling of blood at the
establishment of the first covenant at Sinai, follows naturally from
Heb 9:16–17 (˜yen, “hence”). Hebrews 9:16–17 states that a covenant
requires the ritual death of the covenant-maker; Heb 9:18–22 points
out that in fact the first covenant was established in this way, with
the blood of the representative animals being sprinkled over the
people and all the implements of the covenant cult.
2.2.3. Difficulties in the Case for DiayÆkh as Covenant

In many respects the case for diayÆkh-as-covenant in Heb 9:16–17,
as it has been argued to date, is appealing. It retains continuity with
the author’s Jewish, cultic understanding of the nature of “covenant,”
and produces a logically sound reading of Heb 9:15–18. However,
there are at least two serious objections to the view as outlined above.
First, covenants were not always ratified by the ritual slaughter of
animals. William Lane goes so far as to say, “The formulation [Heb
9:17, §pe‹ mÆpote fisxÊei ˜te zª ı diay°menow] accurately reflects the
legal situation that a covenant is never secured until the ratifier has
bound himself to his oath by means of a representative death” (italics
added).53 While it is true that many covenants were solemnized in
this way, one cannot assert that a “representative death” was always
52
Hughes cites 2 Pet 2:11, John 18:29, and 1 Clem. 55:1 as examples of similar
usage (“Hebrews IX 15ff.,” 42–43). See BAGD 855b (def. 4.a.b).
53
Lane, Hebrews, 243.
necessary.54 There was no monolithic form for covenant-making in

the Bible or the ancient Near East. Moreover, it was the oath rather
than the sacrifices that sufficed to establish a covenant, as Hugenberger
and others have demonstrated.55
Second, it does not seem plausible that the two phrases yãnaton
énãgkh f°resyai toË diayem°nou, “it is necessary for the death of
the covenant-maker to be borne,” and ˜te zª ı diay°menow, “while
the covenant-maker is alive,” are intended in a figurative sense. The
author does appear to be speaking of the actual death of the covenant-
maker.56
These two objections suggest that, although the reading of diayÆkh
as “covenant” may be an improvement over the alternative “testa-
ment,” a better case must be made for it.
2.3. A New Proposal: The Broken Covenant and the Curse-of-Death

An interpretation of Heb 9:16–17 that renders the text intelligible
and coheres with the theological system expressed in the rest of the
epistle is possible, if one recognizes that the particular covenant occu-
pying the author’s thought in Heb 9:15–22 is the first or Sinai
covenant, seen as a broken covenant. It is not covenants in general,
but the broken Sinai covenant that forms the context within which
Heb 9:16–17 should be understood. In what follows I will offer my
exegesis of Heb 9:16–17 phrase by phrase.
2.3.1. ÜOpou går diayÆkh (Heb 9:16a)

Hebrews 9:16–17 is a parenthetical explanation of the genitive absolute
construction in Heb 9:15, yanãtou genom°nou efiw épolÊtrvsin t«n
§p‹ tª pr≈t˙ diayÆk˙ parabãsevn, “a death having occurred for the
remission of transgressions under the first covenant ” (italics added). The
purpose of Heb 9:16–17 is to explain why a death was necessary, given
the predicament of the broken first covenant.
54
Brown, Hebrews, 415: “Far less have we evidence that the death of the sacrificial
victim was necessary to the validity of every arrangement to which the word ren-
dered ‘covenant’ may be applied”; Attridge, Hebrews, 254: “There are covenants
recorded in scripture where no inaugural sacrifice is mentioned.”
55
Hugenberger, Marriage as Covenant, 196–197, and Weinfeld, TDOT 2:256 and
scripture references cited therein.
56
Robert P. Gordon, Hebrews (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 103–104:
“V. 16b refers unmistakably to the death of the ratifier of the will/covenant as
being essential for its implementation. . . . Interpreting this as the symbolic death of
the ratifier . . . requires a lot of reading between the lines in v. 16b and even more
so in v. 17”; cf. also Vos, Hebrews, 39.
82 scott w. hahn
In Heb 9:16, when the author says “For where there is a covenant,”
the reader must also incorporate from Heb 9:15 the concept parabã-
sevn genom°nvn, “transgressions having taken place.” In other cir-
cumstances—for example, if there were no covenant in place, or if
a different kind of relationship were in place (e.g., a trade contract)—
transgressions would not result in death, or would simply not be of
concern. However, the author of Hebrews emphasizes, ˜pou går
diayÆkh, yãnaton énãgkh f°resyai toË diayem°nou, “where there is a
covenant, it is necessary for the death of the covenant-maker to be
endured [when transgressions have taken place].” The fact that a
covenant is in force renders the situation of transgression deadly.
The author’s point becomes clearer when ˜pou is taken causally, i.e.,
not as “where” but as “whereas” or “since.”57 Verse 16 could be
rendered, “Since there is a covenant, it is necessary for the death of
the covenant-maker to be borne.” Under different circumstances, the
fact that there had been transgressions (parabãseiw) may have been
inconsequential or given rise to some lesser punishment, but “since
there is a covenant”—particularly one that has been ratified by a
bloody Drohritus (Heb 9:18–22), i.e., which entails a curse-of-death
for violations—“the death of the covenant-maker must be borne.”
2.3.2. yãnaton énãgkh f°resyai toË diayem°nou (Heb 9:16b)

A broken covenant of this kind demands the curse-of-death. The
biblical and extra-biblical examples of death as the sanction for
covenant-breaking (see above) support the author’s assertion. Some
commentators have voiced the opinion that “covenants or contracts,
of whatever sort, simply do not require the death of one of the par-
ties,”58 but in the understanding of the author of Hebrews, covenants
of this sort (ratified by sacrifice) certainly do require the death of one
of the parties when broken.
An explanation of the circumlocution yãnaton énãgkh f°resyai
toË diayem°nou is in order. F°rv should be taken in its common
meaning “to bear, to endure,”59 rather than the otherwise-unattested
57
Cf. BAGD 576a (def. 2b); L&N 782a (§89.35); LSJ 1242a (def. II.2). ÜOpou is
clearly causal in 1 Cor 3:3, 4 Macc 14:11, 14, 19; possibly also in 4 Macc 2:14
and 6:34. ÜOpou occurs in Heb 6:20; 9:16 and 10:18. In both Heb 9:16 and 10:18
the causal meaning (“whereas, since”) seems to provide a better reading than the
usual rendering.
58
59
BAGD 855a (def. 1c); L&N 807a (§90.64); LSJ 1923a (def. A.III). In Heb
meanings most modern versions and lexicons provided here for the
phrase yãnaton f°resyai.60 The phrase diay°menon énãgkh époyane›n,
“it is necessary for the covenant-maker to die,” would be more suc-
cinct, but the difference in emphasis between “the covenant-maker
must die” and “the death of the covenant-maker must be borne” is
significant, if subtle. In the first formulation, the subject of the ver-
bal idea is the covenant-maker, in the second, it is the death. The sec-
ond formulation does not actually specify who must die, only that
the covenant-maker’s death must be endured. The author leaves
open the possibility that the death of the covenant-maker might be
borne by a designated representative, e.g., the high-priest Jesus. He
only stresses that, because of transgression (Heb 9:15), someone must
bear the curse-of-death, without specifying whom. In the view of the
author, ultimately Christ endures the curse-of-death on behalf of the
actual covenant-makers, i.e., those under the first covenant (Heb 9:15).
The concept of someone “bearing” (f°rv) the death of the covenant-
maker in Heb 9:16, like the “bearing (énaf°rv) the sins of many”
in Heb 9:28, may be shaped by the use of f°rv in Isa 53 lxx,
where (éna)f°rv is consistently used in the sense “bear something
for another.”61 Hebrews 9:28 (tÚ poll«n énenegke›n èmart¤aw) is a
clear reference to Isa 53:12 lxx (ka‹ aÈtÚw èmart¤aw poll«n énÆnegken),
which suffices to show that Isa 53 is in the mind of the author in
Heb 9. Thus, it may well be that the use of f°rv in the sense of
“bear on another’s behalf ” in Isa 53:3–4 elucidates the use of f°rv
in Heb 9:16.
2.3.3. diayÆkh går §p‹ nekro›w beba¤a (Heb 9:17a)

The sense of Heb 9:17a (“a [broken] covenant is confirmed upon
dead [bodies]”) is that, after a covenant has been broken (the situ-
ation under the first covenant), the only means of enforcing the
covenant is to actualize the covenant curses, which ultimately result
in the death of the covenant-maker-turned-covenant-breaker.62
13:13 f°rv is used in this sense (tÚn ÙneidismÚn aÈtoË f°rontew). Cf. also Heb
12:20 (oÈk ¶feron går tÚ diastellÒmenon); Isa 53:4 lxx (otow tåw èmart¤aw ≤m«n
f°rei); Jer 51:22 lxx; Ezek 34:29; 36:6 lxx.
60
See discussion above, esp. n. 25.
61
Cf. Isa 53:3, 4, 11, 12.
62
Cf. Lev 26:14–39, esp. v. 30, but also vv. 16, 22, 25, 38; Deut 28:15–68, esp.
vv. 20, 22, 24, 26, 48, 51, 61. As was noted above for the ancient Near Eastern
oath-curses, although not all the curses of Lev 26 and Deut 28 are immediate death,
84 scott w. hahn
The use of the plural §p‹ nekro›w, “dead bodies”—problematic

under the testamentary reading—is not unexpected under the read-
ing proposed here. The situation the author envisions is the first
covenant, made by the people. ÑO diay°menow and §p‹ nekro›w refer
to the people of Israel in the collective singular and the plural form
respectively. The grammatically-singular “people” (cf. Heb 9:19, laÒw)
is the “covenant-maker” (ı diay°menow) at Sinai, yet “dead bodies”
(nekro¤, cf. Deut 28:26 lxx) would result if the curse-of-death was
actualized upon them.
2.3.4. §pe‹ mÆpote fisxÊei ˜te zª ı diay°menow (Heb 9:17b)

The bold statement of Heb 9:17b, “since it certainly is not in force
while the covenant-maker lives,”63 expresses the following principle:
for the covenant-maker(s) to remain alive after violating the covenant
indicates that the covenant has no binding force (mÆpote fisxÊei). It
is useful to recall the rhetorical question of Ezek 17:15: “But he
rebelled against him . . . Will he succeed? Can a man escape who
does such things? Can he break the covenant and yet escape?” (rsv).
For the author of Hebrews, as well as for Ezekiel, the answer is an
emphatic “No!” (cf. Heb 12:25!). The survival of the covenant-maker
after the violation of his sworn commitment demonstrates the impo-
tence of the covenant and the powerlessness of the oath-curse. A
covenant is not in force if it is not enforced.
2.3.5. ˜yen oÈd¢ ≤ pr≈th xvr‹w a·matow §gkeka¤nistai (Heb 9:18)

Hebrews 9:18–22 explicitly concerns the first Sinaitic covenant,
strengthening the case that this broken covenant is the assumed con-
text of Heb 9:16–17. The sense of Heb 9:18, ˜yen oÈd¢ ≤ pr≈th
xvr‹w a·matow §gkeka¤nistai, may be “Hence, neither was the first
covenant inaugurated without blood,” the emphasis being on the fact
that, at its very inauguration, the first covenant liturgically pre-enacted
the death of the covenant-maker should the covenant be trans-
gressed.64 Thus, the reader should not doubt that the Sinaitic covenant
was one that entailed the curse-of-death. The flow of thought from
Heb 9:16–17 to 9:18–22 could be paraphrased as follows: “A broken
virtually all the curses are means of death: plague, disease, enemy attack, wild ani-
mals, siege, famine, etc.
63
For mÆpote as a strong negative (“certainly not”) see Ellingworth, Hebrews, 464.
64
Cf. Vanhoye, New Priest, 203.
covenant requires the death of the covenant-maker (Heb 9:16–17);

hence, the first covenant liturgically portrayed the death of the
covenant-maker by bloody sacrifice (Heb 9:18–21). Nearly everything
about the first covenant was covered in blood, representing the neces-
sity of death for the forgiveness of transgressions of the covenant
(Heb 9:22, cf. 9:15).”
3. Conclusion and an Avenue for Further Study
At the beginning of this essay, we discussed the close integration of

the legal and liturgical aspects of the covenant in the thought-world
of Hebrews. However, Heb 9:15–18 appeared to be counter-evidence
for this integration. In Heb 9:16–17, the author appears to use dia-
yÆkh in a sense quite different from his customary usage, stepping
outside Israelite-Jewish cultic categories in order to draw an analogy
from Greco-Roman law, whose relevance is anything but clear.
I have argued that the solution to the puzzle of Heb 9:16–17 is
not to abandon the cultic-covenantal framework of the author’s
thought, with its close relationship between liturgy and law, but to
enter into that framework more deeply. If it is understood that the
context for the statements of Heb 9:16–17 is the broken first covenant
mentioned in Heb 9:15, one can see that the author is drawing out
the legal implications of the liturgical ritual (i.e., bloody sacrifices) that
established the first covenant: a broken covenant demands the death
of the covenant-maker (Heb 9:16), and it is not being enforced while
the offending covenant-maker lives (Heb 9:17).
Therefore, Heb 9:16–17 does not involve an abrupt, unmarked
switch in context (from Jewish to Greco-Roman), nor does the author
argue for a strained analogy between a “covenant” and a “testa-
ment.” Verses 16–17 simply restate a theological principle summa-
rized in the verse they seek to explicate (Heb 9:15): the first covenant
entailed the curse-of-death for those who broke it (Heb 2:2; 10:28),
which Christ takes upon himself as Israel’s corporate representative
(Heb 2:9, 14; 9:28), thus freeing those under the first covenant from
the curse-of-death (Heb 2:15; 10:14) and providing for them a new
and better covenant (Heb 9:28; 10:15–17; 12:22–24).
If I have been correct in my exegesis of Heb 9:16–17, then the
statement of v. 17b certainly opens up an avenue for further study: §pe‹
mÆpote fisxÊei ˜te zª ı diay°menow, “since [the covenant] is certainly
86 scott w. hahn
not in force while the covenant-maker lives.” According to my par-

adigm, the author is speaking about the broken Sinaitic covenant:
having been broken (at the golden calf apostasy), it is not in force
(or being enforced) until the covenant curse (i.e., death) is actualized
upon the covenant-maker (Israel). The covenant-curse of death is
only finally visited upon Israel when Christ dies as their represen-
tative (Heb 9:15). But this implies that, in the author’s view, there
is a extended hiatus in Israel’s history between the violation of the
first covenant (Exod 32:1–14) and the death of Christ, during which
the first covenant was, in a sense, not “strong” or “in force” (mÆpote
fisxÊei), held in abeyance, its curses not being actualized. It is as
if, after the golden calf, a verdict is reached, the sentence handed
down, but the execution suspended indefinitely. What justified this
suspension?
The answer is to be found in the narrative of Exod 32. After the
covenant has been broken God threatens to enforce it: “Now let me
alone, so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may con-
sume them; and of you I will make a great nation” (Exod 32:10
nrsv). But Moses pleads with God to relent, based on the divine
oath to the Patriarchs: “Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your
servants, how you swore to them by your own self ” (Exod 32:13
nrsv). Moses is referring to God’s oath at the Aqedah (Gen 22:15–18),
the only record of God swearing by himself to the Patriarchs. On
Mt. Moriah, after the near-sacrifice of Isaac, God spoke to Abraham:
By Myself I swear, the LORD declares: Because you have done this
and have not withheld your son, your favored one, I will bestow My
blessing upon you and make your descendants as numerous as the
stars of heaven and the sands on the seashore; and your descendants
shall seize the gates of their foes. All the nations of the earth shall
bless themselves by your descendants, because you have obeyed My
command. (Gen 22:16–18 njps)
In Exod 32:13, Moses appeals to this oath, making the following
argument to God: “You cannot annihilate Israel for violating their
covenant-oath, for if you do, you would violate your own self-sworn
oath to bless and multiply Abraham’s descendants.” In other words,
the covenant curses of Sinai could not be enforced upon the people
of Israel because of God’s prior oath to Abraham to bless his descen-
dants (i.e., Israel).
The Levitical priesthood, according to the narrative of the Penta-
teuch, is established in response to the golden calf apostasy (Exod
32:29). The author of Hebrews notes that “on the basis of [the
Levitical priesthood] the law was given to the people” (Heb 7:11).
This would refer to the fact that the bulk of the sacrificial system
(Lev 1–7, 16), as well as the Deuteronomic Code, was given to Israel
subsequent to the golden calf episode and the elevation of the Levites.
The author of Hebrews may have held the view that this Levitical
cultic system was “weak and useless” (Heb 7:18) because it was only
a symbolic or pedagogical apparatus designed to remind Israel of
her covenant violations (Heb 10:3) until one could come who was
capable of bearing the curse-of-death of the (broken) covenant on
behalf of the whole nation (Heb 2:9; 9:15), thus enabling God to
enforce the first covenant without undermining his self-sworn oath
to bless the “seed of Abraham” (Gen 22:15–18; Heb 6:13–20).
The author of Hebrews places considerable weight on divine oaths
in general,65 and devotes particular attention to this divine oath at
the Aqedah (Gen 22:15–18) in Heb 6:13–20. He mentions the Aqedah
again in Heb 11:17–19. Dunnill remarks:
The story of the “Binding of Isaac” [is] a theme which has vastly
greater significance, not only for this chapter but for the theology of
the letter as a whole, than its rather brief appearance (11:17f.) would
suggest. [It is of ] fundamental importance for the letter’s Chris-
tology . . . it acts as the organizing centre of Hebrews 11 and as a
“foundation sacrifice” for the faith-covenant established through Jesus.66
In Jewish tradition, the Aqedah took place on the Day of Atonement,
and the rituals of Day of Atonement were interpreted as a yearly
anamnesis of Isaac’s “sacrifice.”67 Thus, the author’s theology of the
Day of Atonement, articulated throughout Heb 9:1–28, may have
an integral relation to the significance he sees in the Aqedah and
the divine oath given there (Heb 6:13–20; 11:17–19).
In sum, it may be that the author of Hebrews regards the divine
oath to Abraham at the Aqedah as a foundational act for Israel,
which is renewed in Christ. The divine oath of the Aqedah is an
expression of God’s providential mercy, inasmuch as it prevents the
65
Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 249: “Oaths and the finality they confer are
deeply important in Hebrews, especially the unique status and revolutionary con-
sequences of divine oaths.” The author discusses the divine oath of Num 14:20–23
(through Ps 95:7–11) in Heb 3:7–4:11 and that of Ps 110:4 in Heb 7:20–22.
66
Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 173.
67
See Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 174–175.
88 scott w. hahn
full enforcement of the curses of the first covenant (Exod 32:13–14)

until the coming of the Christ, who can bear the curse-of-death on
behalf of all (Heb 2:9; 9:15) and restore for Israel the Abrahamic
blessing (Heb 6:13–20; Gen 22:15–18). Christ’s death is simultane-
ously the legal execution of the curses of the old covenant and the
liturgical ritual of sacrifice which establishes the new. Hebrews’ the-
ology on this point would be strikingly similar to Paul’s in Gal 3:6–25,
which is unsurprising given the numerous connections between
Galatians and Hebrews already noted by other scholars.68 In any
event, the complex of issues surrounding the divine oath at the
Aqedah, the “weakness” of the Sinaitic covenant rituals, and the
author’s bold statement in Heb 9:17b certainly merits further study.
Scott W. Hahn, Ph.D.

Professor of Scripture and Theology
Franciscan University of Steubenville
808 Belleview Boulevard, Steubenville, Ohio 43952, U.S.A.
[email protected]
68
E.g., Ben Witherington III, “The Influence of Galatians on Hebrews,” NTS
37 (1991): 146–152.
THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS AS
A “JESUS-MIDRASH”
Elke Tönges
1. Introduction
My interest in the Epistle1 to the Hebrews concerns the way in which

it cites and transforms verses, stories, characters, and themes from
the Hebrew Bible. The author does not just adopt these Jewish tra-
ditions, but forms them into an immense intertextual network. By
writing in an elaborated Greek, he or she presents Jewish traditions
from his/her own particular viewpoint. The text never refers to non-
Jewish traditions, nor does it cite Greek or Roman literature. Rather,
the author concentrates his/her literary composition on the words
of God that she/he finds in Greek translation in the Scriptures of
Israel. Therefore the Epistle to the Hebrews has mainly a Jewish
background.
I want to examine the special kind of Jewish background that
might be possible for our text. First I will consider—in the section
on methodology—whether Hebrews contains any midrashic elements
and whether it might be considered as a Jewish midrash. Therefore
I will analyze how it uses quotations from the Hebrew Bible and
their introductory formulas. The next step will be to examine the
content of Hebrews and its theological impact. How does the text
refer to figures from Israel’s history? Finally I will return to the ques-
tion of whether we may speak of the overall text of Hebrews as a
midrash and will offer a hypothesis for a possible original Sitz im
Leben.
1
I will refer to our text as an “epistle,” although by using this term I do not
intend to describe its literary form. Translations of Hebrews and other biblical texts
in this article are my own.
90 elke tönges
2. Methodological Approach
2.1. The Epistle to the Hebrews—a “Jesus-Midrash”?

If we want to call the Epistle to the Hebrews a “Jesus-Midrash,” we
have to define the genre midrash in a broad sense. The word midrash
is used in rabbinic and New Testament exegesis in different ways.
It may describe a literary genre, certain books, or a model for con-
temporary biblical-literary analysis.2 A definition of what is meant
when we talk about midrash is therefore in order: (1) the contents
of a text, (2) its form, (3) a method, (4) or all of these. Moshe D.
Herr emphasized in 1971 that “Midrash is the designation of a par-
ticular rabbinic literature constituting an anthology and compilation of
homilies.”3 Arnold Goldberg worked on a descriptive terminology of
the “form” midrash. Yet his definition from 1985, whereby a lemma
means a dictum provided that a certain hermeneutical operation is
performed,4 seems too narrow.
Most of the books which are described as Midrashim were writ-
ten from the second century ce on. However, early forms of midrashim
were already known in the centuries before Christ. Goldberg com-
ments that in early Judaism the periphrastic exegesis of the Torah
was more important than in our transmitted Midrashim. The old-
est Midrash books are the so-called “tannaitic” or “exegetic” Midrashim
(Mek. R. Yish., Sipra, Sipre Num., Sipre Deut.). These were written from
the third century on, but include much older material.
In terms of the methods employed, the author of the Epistle to
the Hebrews is thoroughly Jewish. He or she uses exegetical termi-
nology, rules of interpretation, and expository patterns (like the
midrash) that are found elsewhere in Judaism. But the christological
interpretation of the biblical writings makes a unique contribution.
As an interpretive activity the midrashic procedure is mostly ori-
ented to Scripture, adapting it to the present for the purpose of
instructing or edifying the reader or hearer. The literary expression
can be described in two different ways. With the use of midrash in
2
Cf. Lieve Teugels, “Midrash in the Bible or Midrash on the Bible? Critical
Remarks about the Uncritical Use of a Term,” in Bibel und Midrasch: Zur Bedeutung
der rabbinischen Exegese für die Bibelwissenschaft (ed. Gerhard Bodendorfer and Matthias
Millard; FAT 22; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998), 44.
3
Moshe D. Herr, “Midrash,” EncJud 11:1507.
4
Arnold Goldberg, “Form-Analysis of Midrashic Literature as a Method of
Description,” JJS 36 (1985): 159–174, esp. 162.
the epistle to the hebrews as a “jesus-midrash” 91
Ben Sira and Qumran, the term “midrash” is now employed more
broadly to designate “interpretive rendering of the biblical text”
(= implicit midrash) and various kinds of “text and exposition” pat-
terns (= explicit midrash). Implicit midrash first appears as a process
of rewriting.5
Some examples of passages in Hebrews that have been identified
as midrash are:
(1) Heb 1–4: “Schriftgnosis mit paränetischem Midrasch”6

(2) Heb 1:1–147
(3) Heb 1:1–2:188
(4) Heb 2:5–8: “Ps 8:4–6 . . . followed by a midrashic commentary”9
(5) Heb 3:1–6: “exegetic midrash”10
(6) Heb 3:7–4:13: “selbständiger Midrasch über Ps 95”11
(7) Heb 3:12–4:11: “Psalm 95:7–11 together with a midrashic appli-
cation of the passage to the situation of the readers”12
(8) Heb 3:16–19: “Methode des rabbinischen Midrasch”13
(9) Heb 5:1–7:2814
5
E. Earle Ellis, The Old Testament in Early Christianity: Canon and Interpretation in
the Light of Modern Research (WUNT 54; Tübingen: Mohr, 1991), 92; cf. 2 Chr 13:22;
24:27.
6
Hans Windisch, Der Hebräerbrief (2d ed.; HNT 14; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck),
1931), 8.
7
See E. Earle Ellis, Prophecy and Hermeneutic in Early Christianity: New Testament
Essays (WUNT 18; Tübingen: Mohr, 1978), 221–226.
8
Ellis (The Old Testament in Early Christianity, 96 n. 69) suggests that Heb 1:1–2:18
is “perhaps” an instance of explicit midrash appearing as a “special pattern.”
9
Donald A. Hagner, Hebrews (NIBC 14; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1998), 14.
10
Otto Michel calls Heb 3:3–6a an “exegetic Midrash,” which is influenced by
the parallel text of Moses in Heb 3:2c (Otto Michel, Der Brief an die Hebräer [6th
ed.; KEK 13; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966], 92); cf. Scott Layton,
“Christ over his House (Hebrews 3,6),” NTS 37 (1991): 473: “Heb 3,1–6 is a com-
plex midrash on several texts.”
11
Peter S. Wick, “The Midrash on Deuteronomy 12:9–11 in Hebrews 3:7–4:13:
A Key to the Overall Theological Concept of Hebrews” (paper presented at the
international meeting of the SBL, Groningen, Netherlands, 26 July 2004). Cf. Otto
Michel: “selbständiger Midrasch über Ps 95” (Michel, Brief an die Hebräer, 7). Martin
Dibelius, “Der himmlische Kult nach dem Hebräerbrief,” TBl 21 (1942): 7: “Midrasch
über Ps 95.” Windisch (Hebräerbrief, 30): “längere midraschartige Betrachtung über
Ps 94,7–11.”
12
Hagner, Hebrews, 14.
13
Friedrich Schröger, Der Verfasser des Hebräerbriefes als Schriftausleger (BU 4; Regensburg:
Pustet, 1968), 113.
14
Theme and initial texts (Heb 5:1–6; Ps 2:7; 110:4) + Exposition (Heb 5:7–10;
[+ Inserted exhortation (Heb 5:11–6:12)] + Supplementary text (Heb 6:13–14; Gen
22:16–17) + Exposition (Heb 6:15–20) + Supplementary text (Heb 7:1–2; Gen
92 elke tönges
(10) Heb 7: “Midrasch über Ps 109,4 und Gen 14,17–20”15

(11) Heb 9: “midrash-like presentation of material drawn from the
Pentateuch, but with no explicit quotation”16
(12) Heb 10: “quotation of Ps 40:6–8 with a brief midrashic com-
mentary”17
(13) Heb 10:5–39: “proem Midrash”18
(14) Heb 10:1–18: “selbständige[r] Midrasch über die Einzigartigkeit
des Opfers Christi”19
(15) Heb 11:8–19: “Abraham Midrash”20
(16) Heb 12: “midrashic treatment of ot material”21
(17) Heb 12:5–6: “Midrasch Haggadah”22
The above mentioned passages are explicit midrashim. They appear as

clusters of texts and commentaries on a particular theme. Similar
patterns may be found in Qumran (e.g. 4Q174) or in the texts of
the first-century Jewish writer Philo of Alexandria.23 The New
Testament exegetical patterns display a number of differences from
those of the rabbis. As I shall show later for the introductory for-
mulas, this may represent an earlier stage of development of the art
and genre as well as a divergent theological orientation. For example,
the midrashim underlying Heb 5–7 are distinctive because of their
christological dimension; they apply Ps 110:4 (109:4 lxx) to Jesus.
Perhaps Hebrews cites not just the traditions, themes, and persons
of the people of Israel to illustrate Jesus’ role and mission to the
world, but also employs a traditional Jewish handling and creative
writing of the well-known texts. Therefore, we might examine next
the use of the quotations and introductory formulas in the next step.
14:17–20) + Exposition (Heb 7:3–27) + Concluding allusion to the initial text (Heb
7:28); cf. Ellis, Prophecy and Hermeneutic, 157 and Ellis, The Old Testament in Early
Christianity, 99 n. 81.
15
Windisch, Hebräerbrief, 59.
16
17
Ibid.
18
Ellis, The Old Testament in Early Christianity, 98, 107.
19
Michel, Brief an die Hebräer, 184.
20
Luis F. Mercado, “The Language of Sojourning in the Abraham Midrash in
Hebrews 11:8–19: Its Old Testament Basis, Exegetical Traditions and Function in
the Epistle to the Hebrews” (Th.D. diss., Harvard University, 1966), 2.
21
22
Schröger, Verfasser, 189.
23
Ellis, The Old Testament in Early Christianity, 96 n. 71: “E.g. Philo, De Sacrif. Abel.
76–87: Lev 2:14 + Commentary with verbal links and supplementary texts +
Concluding allusion to the opening text + Final texts (Exod 6:7; Lev 26:12).”
2.2. Quotations
Some scholars claim to have found midrash texts elsewhere in the
New Testament: 1 Cor 10:1–22 and the so-called “formula quota-
tions” in Matthew’s Gospel.24 These formula quotations have the
same formal structure as rabbinic midrashim defined by Goldberg.25
How are the quotations used in Hebrews?
The Epistle to the Hebrews is structured around forty-four direct
quotations referring to a total of fifty-three different texts from what
would come to be called the Hebrew Bible. There are more than
eighty further allusions to other texts of the Jewish canon.
Almost all quotations are taken from the Septuagint. However, it
must be noted that the collection of Septuagint texts had not been
completed by the end of the first century and that the author may
only have had certain parts of the Septuagint available. Judging from
the scriptural quotations, these texts would have included the Torah,
the Psalms, and Jeremiah.
We know that in the case of the Epistle to the Hebrews, com-
paring Hellenistic or Jewish influence does not help to reveal the
meaning of Hebrews in the first century. There are many texts which
demonstrate a combined Hellenistic-Jewish influence, such as the
writings of Philo of Alexandria, who wrote in Greek but used midrashic
techniques. We also know that there were many Greek synagogues
at the time of the composition of the Epistle to the Hebrews. There-
fore Hebrews can quote the Hebrew Bible in Greek translation and
still be a “Jewish” book, because the common language of the first
century ce was Greek.
Hypothesis 1: From the choice and origin of its quotations, it can

be seen that the Epistle to the Hebrews originated at the boundary
between Hebrew-Jewish and Hellenistic-Jewish milieu.
To support the hypothesis, we might notice the following six points:
(1) We have already seen that the auctor ad Hebraeos had access to
a number of different parts of the Septuagint. If we use the Jewish
division of the Hebrew Scriptures into Torah, Prophets, and Writings
24
Cf. Matt 1:23; 2:6, 15, 18, 23; 4:15–16; 8:17; 12:18–21; 13:35; 21:5 and
27:9–10.
25
Arnold Goldberg, “Midrashsatz: Vorschläge für die descriptive Terminologie
der Formanalyse rabbinischer Texte,” FJB 17 (1989): 45–56.
94 elke tönges
(Ketubim), we see that twenty-two of the direct quotations in Hebrews

are from the book of Psalms; some Psalms (95, 110 [94, 109 lxx])
are even mentioned twice, and a few are alluded to even more often.
This is a common rabbinic method: the rabbis like to quote the text
under discussion, as is done in Heb 3:7–4:11 and Heb 7.
(2) Next most frequent are quotations from the Torah, especially
Genesis and Deuteronomy. The question is whether we already are
finding signs in Hebrews of the three-part division of the Hebrew
Bible. The author does not bother to discuss the development of the
canon or to give us any hints in the text. The New Testament
phrases “Law (of Moses) and Prophets”26 or “Torah of Moses, Proph-
ets, Psalms”27 are not mentioned in Hebrews.
It should, however, be noted, that the Greek word nÒmow appears
only in Heb 7–10, which deals with cultic patterns. Here the argu-
mentation about Jesus as high priest is interpreted in terms of the
Melchizedek-Abraham tradition and cultic descriptions of the role
and function of the priests. Therefore, nÒmow describes the Levitical
part of the law. However, the underlying meaning of nÒmow here—
and always—is the “Torah of Moses” which reveals the will of God
(Heb 10:28; cf. 9:19).
(3) Most Jewish texts seek to place themselves in the long tradi-
tion of the prophets of Israel. Hebrews does this too. In the exordium,
the author introduces the prophets as revealing God’s message in an
earlier time (Heb 1:1): “Having spoken of old in many forms and
various ways to the fathers through the prophets.” Texts from the
prophetic books, such as Jer 31, are not just widely quoted but
express the essence of the theological impact of the letter. Two quo-
tations from 1 and 2 Samuel are eminently important. One cites
God’s promise in Nathan’s prophecy (2 Sam 7:14 in Heb 1:5) and
the other includes God’s assurance that the faithful priest will receive
from God an everlasting house (1 Sam 2:35 in Heb 2:17; 3:2, 6).
(4) Except for the book of Psalms, there are not many quotations
from the Writings (Ketubim) in the Epistle to the Hebrews. Indeed,
it seems that Hebrews does not even know the Greek word grafÆ,
using instead lÒgow z«n (Heb 4:12).
26
Cf. Luke 16:16 // Matt 11:13; Luke 16:29, 31; 24:27; Matt 5:17; 7:12; John
1:45; Acts 13:15; 24:14; 28:23; Rom 3:21.
27
Cf. Luke 24:44.
An indication of the clear and consistent christological interpretation

of texts from the Hebrew Bible is given in Heb 10:7. Here Christ
speaks in the words of Ps 40:8 (39:8 lxx): “in the scroll of the book,
it is written about me” (§n kefal¤di bibl¤ou g°graptai per‹ §moË).
(5) We should further recognize that Hebrews is full of compos-
ite quotations which often append to one text a compilation from
another (cf. Heb 10:37–38: Isa 26:20 and Hab 2:3–4). This practice
appears frequently in other Jewish literature, and such study and
interpretation of Scripture was an established practice in first-century
Judaism.
We have to assume that biblical quotations that deviate from the
text of the Septuagint were generally intentional alterations rather
than unintentional lapses. The Epistle to the Hebrews uses this tech-
nique freely to show and draw out its textual impact. Therefore,
Hebrews has a number of textual alterations, such as Heb 10:6, “in
burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not have pleasure.” The
first words about the offerings, from Ps 40:7 (39:7 lxx), create ver-
bal links within the larger exposition of Scripture, i.e., a pattern of
explicit midrash (cf. Heb 10:38; Rom 10:12–13, 16, 18). However, there
does remain the possibility that the author is using a different ver-
sion of the Septuagint from the one known to us, rather than making
a deliberate alteration. For instance, this question remains open for
the use of “body” in Heb 10:5 rather than “ears” as in the Psalm
verse being quoted here (Ps 40:7 [39:7 lxx]).
(6) Besides the quotations of Scripture from what would come to
be called the Hebrew Bible, Hebrews includes allusions to the addi-
tional books in the Septuagint, specifically to the later Wisdom tra-
dition (Heb 1:3: Wis 7:25–26; 11:25) and to the books of Maccabees
(Heb 11:25: 2 Macc 6–7 and 4 Macc 15:2, 8).
We may conclude that the use of scriptural quotations in the Epistle

to the Hebrews is consistent with the development of the Jewish
canon as witnessed in the writings of Greek-speaking authors of the
first century (cf. Josephus, C. Ap. 1.38–46). Hebrews therefore seems
to be part of the Jewish discussion: it respects Jewish boundaries and
thus enables the community it addresses to develop their ideas and
understanding of the world and of God’s plan in the context of
and in discussion with Jewish positions and traditions.
Let me complete this point with Arnold Goldberg’s well-known
insight that rabbinic literature—and, I would add, the Epistle to
96 elke tönges
the Hebrews—is “a literature of tradition, but also a literature of

quotation.”
2.3. Introductory Formulas

The Epistle to the Hebrews not only quotes texts from the Hebrew
Bible, but also uses introductory formulas to introduce these quota-
tions. These formulae quaestionis are important when we ask how
Hebrews transforms the biblical texts and how it uses them to show
that Jesus is the redeemer of the world. The formulas show that the
Epistle to the Hebrews may be placed on the boundary between
Hebrew-Jewish and Hellenistic-Jewish milieu.
The well-known phrase, “it was written” (g°graptai), is used only
once, in a quotation from Ps 40:8 (39:8 lxx) in Heb 10:7. In its
place, phrases containing verbs like l°gein or fane›n (“speak, say”)
or in some texts marture›n (“witness, bear testimony”) are used (Heb
2:6; 7:17). This reflects the fact that Greek is richer in verbs of say-
ing than is Hebrew. With these verbs a certain shift from a written
text to oral speech is made. The quotations in the Epistle to the
Hebrews are no longer written, but are becoming the spoken author-
itative word.
Bruce Metzger has compared the use of introductory formulas in
the Mishnah and in the New Testament. He suggests that when
these formulas differ, they are two different genres rather than being
two differing interpretations of history. He points out that the New
Testament and the Mishnah each contain a number of examples
where the subject of the verb of saying in the formula may be either
the Scriptures or God: “Indeed, so habitual was the identification of
the divine Author with the word of Scripture that occasionally per-
sonality is attributed to the passages itself.”28 In fact, “the author of
Hebrews cites the words of Scripture as the words of God even
where the ot does not so characterize them, and where the words
are in the third person about God.”29
The author of Hebrews even characterizes two quotations as words
of Christ: Heb 2:12–13 and 10:5–7. These are not the words of the
earthly Jesus of Nazareth, but rather words of Christ, who expresses
28
Bruce M. Metzger, “The Formulas Introducing Quotations of Scripture in the
nt and the Mishnah,” JBL 70 (1951): 306.
29
Ibid. Cf. Heb 1:6, 7, 8; 4:4, 7; 7:21; 10:30b.
his incarnation and his relation to God and his brothers and sisters
in the words of Scripture (Ps 22:23 [21:23 lxx], etc.).
Another text shows the use of the Holy Spirit in an introductory
formula which expresses the authority of the quotation. In 2 Sam
23:2, God’s spirit speaks through David’s words. It is possible that
this text is the origin of the formula, “as the Holy Spirit says” (cf.
Heb 3:7, quoting Ps 95 [94 lxx]). The Psalms are full of references
to being God’s word, and so fit easily with the intention of Hebrews
that the Psalms should be heard as divine speech.
Various subjects are used to transmit the quotations: God, the
Son, the Holy Spirit, Moses (Heb 9:20; 12:21), “someone” (Heb 2:6)
and, at the end of the epistle, “we” (Heb 13:6).30
This change of authorities in introductory formulas is in its use
similar to rabbinic literature. Texts that are quoted as God’s word
are cited in the rabbinic literature as words of an authoritative rabbi.
In addition, it is noteworthy that Hebrews is the only book in the
New Testament to contain examples of the indefinite type of for-
mula where the subject is “someone” and/or the source of the cita-
tion is left unspecified (Heb 2:6, “someone [tiw] bore testimony to
this somewhere [poÊ], saying”; Heb 4:4, “for he has spoken some-
where [poÊ]”; Heb 5:6, “since he [God] says elsewhere [§n •t°rƒ]”).
This indefinite formula appears also in the Mishnah and the writ-
ings of Philo.31 Hebrews uses these unspecific references to the Hebrew
Bible to emphasize that the biblical text is not human writing, but
the word of God (see Heb 5:12, lÒgia toË yeoË).
Hypothesis 2: Hebrews’ view of the continuing activity of God in

the historical event comprising the life, death, and resurrection of
Jesus of Nazareth, as fulfilling or even surpassing divine revelation
as recorded in the Hebrew Bible, is reflected even in the choice of
30
A precise list of the quotations, noting their differences from the Septuagint
text known to us, may be found in Michael Theobald, “Vom Text zum ‘lebendigen
Wort’ (Hebr 4,12): Beobachtungen zur Schrifthermeneutik des Hebräerbriefs,” in
Jesus Christus als die Mitte der Schrift: Studien zur Hermeneutik des Evangeliums (ed. Christof
Landmesser et al.; BZNW 86; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1997), 754.
31
Philo, Ebr. 61, Deus 74; cf. William Leonard, The Authorship of the Epistle to the
Hebrews (London: Vatican Polyglot, 1939), 275, 283; Herbert E. Ryle, Philo and Holy
Scripture (London: Macmillan, 1895), xiv; Joseph A. Fitzmyer, “The Use of Explicit
Old Testament Quotations in Qumran Literature and in the New Testament,” NTS
7 (1960–61): 299–305.
98 elke tönges
formulas introducing quotations of Scripture in the Epistle to the

Hebrews.
2.4. Use of Interpretation Patterns

Friedrich Schröger recognized different rhetorical styles. In his earlier
work, Der Verfasser des Hebräerbriefes als Schriftausleger,32 he distinguishes
between typological elements, methods of scriptural interpretation,
and rabbinic or Qumranic Midrashim. However, we cannot entirely
accept these distinctions, since it is not possible to distinguish between
exegetical methods like the seven middot (exegetical rules) of Hillel,33
which are quite often used in rabbinic texts and which also have
many parallels in Hellenistic rhetorical language and in rabbinic
Midrashim, and interpretative methods of midrash itself.
Typology is not a method but what we might call a “spiritual”
approach. Like the haggadah of the rabbis, it brings the text into
the present by appropriating the prophetic and representational char-
acter of Old Testament characters, events and institutions.34
Some scholars have shown how typological elements are used in the
Epistle to the Hebrews and have characterized them as “Hellenistic”
or “Philonic” traditions. But E. Earle Ellis remarks that “in the New
Testament typology appears, broadly speaking, as creation typology and
covenant typology . . . In the covenant typology various persons, events
and institutions of Old Testament Israel are viewed as prophetic
prefigurements of New Testament realities.”35 This is the case in the
Epistle to the Hebrews, where the covenant typology is found in chs.
8–10. There it expresses the “new covenant,” which will be found
in the house of Israel and Judah. Hebrews 8:8–12 quotes the whole
text of Jer 31:31–34, focusing on just three topics: the new covenant,
the end of sacrifices and the writing of Torah/law in the hearts and
minds of the people. The heart plays an important role for Hebrews,
32
Schröger, Verfasser.
33
Cf. Günter Stemberger, Einleitung in Talmud und Midrasch (8th ed.; Munich:
Beck, 1992), 25–40.
34
Cf. Karl-Heinrich Ostmeyer, “Typos—weder Urbild noch Abbild,” in Bildersprache
verstehen: Zur Hermeneutik der Metapher und anderer bildlicher Sprachformen (ed. Ruben
Zimmermann; Texte und Studien zu Handlung, Sprache und Lebenswelt 38; Munich:
Fink, 2000), 218, 223; Leonhard Goppelt, Typos: The Typological Interpretation of the
Old Testament in the New (trans. Donald H. Madvig; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982),
30–31, 152, 198, 201–202.
35
Ellis, The Old Testament in Early Christianity, 166.
for it is the place where someone decides whether he or she is will-

ing to follow the law (see Heb 3:8, 12). This stands in relation to
the central question of the audience for which Hebrews was writ-
ten: whether to return to the Jewish faith or to continue to believe
in Jesus as the Messiah. In the central chapters Heb 8–10, Jesus is
shown as realizing the new covenant and as resuming the prophecy
of Jeremiah.36 The author of Hebrews cites the prophetic text refer-
ring to a “new covenant” to show Jesus’ superiority (Heb 8:6, “bet-
ter covenant”) compared to the covenant given at Mount Sinai and
not to the covenant of Jeremiah. In Heb 10:15–17, Jer 31:33 is
quoted as the word of the Holy Spirit. This is intended to direct
the words of the text directly at the readers and listeners of the epis-
tle, who understand themselves to be living at the end of time (Heb
1:2). This method of interpretation is comparable with the Pesher-
Midrashim in Qumran.37
Besides the passages quoted directly from the Hebrew Bible,
Hebrews includes a large number of allusions to certain stories or
expressions, such as “consuming fire” (Heb 12:29, pËr katanal¤skon;
cf. Deut 4:24); or “pursue peace with everyone” (Heb 12:14, EfirÆnhn
di≈kete; cf. Ps 34:15 [33:15 lxx]),38 etc.
Summary: We have seen that the Epistle to the Hebrews is full
of explicit quotations and implicit allusions to Scripture. Is it possi-
ble to assume that the “epistle” to the Hebrews as a whole is trans-
mitted also in a familiar Jewish form? And what would that mean
for our interpretation of the text?
3. Theological Content
3.1. Introduction
That the text “to the Hebrews” is a Jewish text can be seen not only
from the kind and genre of quotations, but also from the theological
36
Cf. Konrad Taut, Anleitung zum Schriftverständnis? Die heiligen Schriften nach dem
Hebräerbrief (THEOS 20; Hamburg: Dr. Kovac (private), 1998), 89.
37
For the genre Pesher-Midrashim and midrash eschatology in Pesharim, see
Timothy H. Lim, Pesharim (Companion to the Qumran Scrolls 3; London: Sheffield
Academic Press, 2002), 48–53.
38
The injunction “pursue peace” is a common motif of Old Testament and of
later Jewish paraenesis. See Ps 34:15; T. Sim. 5:2; m. "Abot 1:12; Matt 5:9; 1 Pet
3:11, which cites Ps 34:15. Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia;
Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 367 with n. 10.
100 elke tönges
transformation and intention of the text. Hebrews explains Jesus’ role

and function for a group of people who are familiar with the sto-
ries and figures of the Hebrew Bible. The original readers are referred
to as “Hebrews” or “Jews.” Hebrews thus shows us an intra-Jewish
discussion between Jews who refer to their “common” Judaism (reli-
gio licita) and others who believe that Jesus is the Messiah of Israel.
When we read the text of Hebrews it is as though we were listen-
ing to one side of a telephone conversation. We must see whether
the theological interpretations may fit the hypothesis that Hebrews
is a Jewish text.
3.2. The Eschatological Dimension in Hebrews

Since in Hebrews the eschatological perspective is the underlying motive,
it is important to examine and compare it with Jewish texts. The
auctor ad Hebraeos characterizes herself/himself and the addressees as
living in the last days, as described in the exordium of Heb 1:2: “at
the end of these days.”39 This conviction is common for authors of
New Testament texts and Jewish apocalyptic texts.40 In Hebrews,
history is divided into two ages: this age and the age to come (Heb
6:5, m°llontow afi«now). The message has to be seen in connection
with Ps 95 (94 lxx), quoted in Heb 3–4, which pronounces the near-
ness of the eschaton:41 “Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden
your heart as in rebellion.”42
It should be noted that, like Hebrews, the Book of Revelation rep-
resents a comprehensive adaptation of the images and motifs of the
Hebrew Bible, using midrashic techniques to verbalize the eschato-
logical vision of the seer.
3.3. Figures from the History of Israel

The Epistle to the Hebrews mentions more than twenty important
characters from the history of the people of Israel. In Heb 11, the
39
For text-critical remarks see Attridge, Hebrews, 35.
40
Cf. Peter von der Osten-Sacken, Die Apokalyptik in ihrem Verhältnis zu Prophetie
und Weisheit (TEH 157; Munich: Kaiser, 1969), 39–43.
41
According to Herbert Braun, An die Hebräer (HNT 14; Tübingen: Mohr, 1984),
95, and against Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer (3 vols.; EKKNT 17; Zürich: Benziger
and Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997), 1:187 n. 21.
42
For the use and messianic-eschatological interpretation of Ps 95, see Str-B
1:164–165.
encomium of faith, fifteen biblical figures are cited, including Abel,

Enoch, Noah, Jephthah, Samuel, and the prophets, and God’s response
to their faith and good deeds is described.
For the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, it was enough just
to mention the names and a few aspects of the biblical figures. When
they heard the names of these biblical heroes, his/her readers and
listeners were able to relate these references to the familiar biblical
stories. By using this method, the author was able to reframe char-
acters and biblical stories: stories from the Hebrew Bible became
part of the history of Jesus and emphasized the superiority of Jesus
Christ.
Further research is needed to assess the significance of the author’s
choice of biblical figures. Following Heinrich Zimmermann and
William Loader, it might also be interesting to consider how the role
of the high priest is transformed.43 We can note, however, that a
number of figures of great importance for the constitution of the
people of Israel are frequently mentioned in our text.
Let me focus here on Abraham and Moses, who appear in sev-
eral texts illustrating Jesus’ superiority and his heavenly connection
to God.
The image of Abraham as Father of the People of Israel is used
at the beginning of our text to point out that Jesus had come to the
children of Abraham (Heb 2:16). God’s promise that Abraham would
be made into a great people is even quoted in Heb 6:14: “Surely,
I will bestow blessings on you and will multiply you” (Gen 22:17).
The children and grandchildren of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob are
mentioned three times in Heb 11. These texts seem to lay a strong
accent on the family relationship of the forefathers of Israel.
The second figure widely used in Hebrews is Moses. The New
Testament cites Moses and his deeds more than eighty times. Moses
appears in different roles—as the mediator of the Torah, or as a
prophet. Generally in the New Testament, as in Hebrews in partic-
ular, his role and function as mediator between God and the people
43
The portrait of Christ as a high priest is singular in the New Testament. It
derives from traditions that are based on a complex Jewish heritage. Cf. Heinrich
Zimmermann, Die Hohepriester-Christologie des Hebräerbriefes (Paderborn: Ferdinand
Schöningh, 1964), passim; William Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester: Eine traditions-
geschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes (WMANT 53; Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1981), passim; Windisch, Hebräerbrief, 12–14; Michel, Brief an
die Hebräer, 165–169; Oscar Cullmann, Die Christologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen:
Mohr, 1957), 83–110, etc.
102 elke tönges
of Israel is compared to Jesus’ function and mission.44 Hebrews char-

acterizes Moses as the leading figure for the desert generation, autho-
rized by God (Heb 3:1–6),45 who is, like Jesus, a loyal, faithful and
reliable mediator of God. Further on, the Epistle to the Hebrews
mentions Moses as the transmitter of the Torah (Heb 9:19; 10:28).
But it also criticises his “covenant” as antiquated and unworthy (Heb
8–10). Such criticism of the quality of the prophecy of Moses is well
known in Midrash texts. For instance, his knowledge of God’s thoughts
and plans is far inferior to that of Balaam:
And there arose no prophet in Israel like Moses (Deut 34:10). In Israel no
prophet arose; but amongst the nations of the world there was one.
Who is this? Balaam, the son of Beor. But there is a difference between
the prophecy of Moses and the prophecy of Balaam. Moses did not
know who was speaking to him, but Balaam knew who was speaking,
for it is said: ‘the oracle of one who hears the words of God’ (Num 24:16).
Moses did not know when God would speak to him, until God spoke,
but Balaam knew when he was speaking to him. (Sipre Deut. 357 to
Deut 34:10 [my translation])
The only historical figures mentioned in Hebrews who do not belong
to the people of Israel are Timothy and the brothers and sisters in
Italy, who appear at the end of the epistle in the (probably spuri-
ous)46 final greeting (Heb 13:23–24).
4. May we Even Speak of the Overall Text of Hebrews

as a “ Jesus-Midrash”?
As we have seen, the Epistle to the Hebrews demonstrates many

similarities with other Jewish interpretations of Scripture. The author’s
methods and his/her ways of handling Scripture and interpreting it
in a messianic and eschatological way show that the text is a part
of the Jewish tradition.
44
See Hubert Frankemölle, “Mose in Deutungen des Neuen Testaments,” KuI 9
(1994): 72–84.
45
Cf. the interpretation of Heb 3:1–6 in Elke Tönges, “Der Brief an die Hebräerin-
nen und Hebräer—Eine antijudaistische Schrift?” in Christlich von Gott reden im Angesicht
Israels: Symposion zum 60. Geburtstag von Klaus Wengst (ed. Katharina von Bremen and
Elke Tönges; Iserlohn: Institut für Kirche und Gesellschaft der Evangelischen Kirche
von Westfalen, 2003), 85–91.
46
See the discussion in Wolfgang Kraus, “Neuere Ansätze in der Exegese des
Hebräerbriefes,” VF 48 (2003): 67–68.
The use of Septuagint texts is also relevant: Hebrews alters cer-

tain biblical texts and presents them in a different (usually christo-
logical) way.47
But how do we deal with the Jewish text, published in the explicit
Christian canon, the New Testament? The difference between rab-
binic Midrashim and New Testament midrash is this: “While rab-
binic midrash seeks to discover some hidden element within the Old
Testament texts itself, the New Testament midrash with its escha-
tological orientation applies the text theologically to some aspect of
Jesus’ life and ministry. While for the rabbis the text is primary, the
New Testament writers give primacy to Jesus and to the surround-
ing messianic events, or tradition of events, and only then use Old
Testament texts to explain or illuminate them.”48
Hagner presumes that Hebrews is “a carefully argued exposition,
employing midrashic treatment of Scripture, repeatedly punctuated
by exhortatory passages,”49 whereas George W. Buchanan even goes
so far to describe Hebrews as “a homiletic midrash based on Ps
110.”50 In my opinion, the central idea of Buchanan that Hebrews
is Jewish exegesis in the form of a midrash cannot be denied, but
relating it to Ps 110 (109 lxx) as the biblical basis for the midrash
is exaggerated. Let us search for the Sitz im Leben of the midrash
exegesis.
There is a possible Sitz im Leben of the familiar tannaitic Midrashim:
during worship in the Hellenistic synagogue. Goldberg assumes in
his form-critical analysis of periphrastic Midrash-sentences that it is
possible that periphrastic biblical exegesis played a more central role
in early Judaism than is apparent from our Midrash texts. He and
Günter Stemberger also suppose that this biblical exegesis took place
in the context of the service in the synagogue.51 There is, however,
a slight problem with this hypothesis: there are almost no texts to
47
See Martin Karrer, “Der Weltkreis und Christus der Hohepriester. Blicke auf
die Schriftrezeption des Hebräerbriefs,” in Frühjudentum und Neues Testament im Horizont
Biblischer Theologie (ed. Wolfgang Kraus and Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr; WUNT 162;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 151–179.
48
Ellis, The Old Testament in Early Christianity, 94.
49
Donald A. Hagner, Encountering the Book of Hebrews: An Exposition (EBS; Grand
Rapids: Baker Academic, 2002), 29.
50
George W. Buchanan, To the Hebrews. Translation, Comment and Conclusions (AB
36; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1972), XIX.
51
Arnold Goldberg, “Paraphrasierende Midrashsätze,” FJB 18 (1990): 22; Stem-
berger, Einleitung in Talmud und Midrasch, 234, 238, 241–242.
104 elke tönges
support it. Goldberg ended his last lecture with the following task
for his pupils: “The assumption of an early literary form with its Sitz
im Leben within the synagogue sermon or homily should be exam-
ined further.”52
There is another question which must be discussed in this con-
text: the classification of the so-called Epistle to the Hebrews as a
sermon or homily. Hebrews is full of parenetic phrases. The later
Midrash form referred to as homily has the specific structure yelamme-
denu—petichta—semikhah—inyan—chatima, as does also a synagogue
homily. Indeed, as we shall discuss in a moment, the one may be
the same as the other. At the least, such a homily must consist of
a petichta and chatima. The petichta opens the sermon and serves as a
prooemium. It consists of a verse of the Hebrew Bible, apparently unre-
lated to the theme of the homily, and the interpretation of both this
verse and the rabbinic commentary on it, finally connecting to the
homily’s theme. The chatima ends the homily, offering comfort and
reassurance or an eschatological kerygma.
It is possible that the form of the Epistle to the Hebrews is that
of an early homily or homiletic midrash.53 While it does not con-
form precisely to the homiletic structure outlined above, it possibly
reveals a version of the form that may have been developed in the
context of an early first-century Hellenistic synagogue service. As
such, the Epistle may have been an early homily or homiletic midrash
that was written for “Hebrews” who believed in the messianic role
and function of Jesus and sought to describe them in cultic, biblical
terms. We do have a sort of prooemium, the interpretative key of our
epistle, at Heb 1:1–5 (or Heb 1:1–13). If the closing verses of Hebrews,
13:20–25, are seen as a later addition, then it is possible to distin-
guish a possible chatima in Heb 13:18–19: “Pray for us; for we are
persuaded that we have a good conscience since we desire to behave
honorably in all things. I especially entreat you to do this so that I
may be restored to you sooner.”
In adding the closing verses of Hebrews as it has come down to
us, an anonymous editor characterized its contents as lÒgow t∞w
52
Goldberg, “Paraphrasierende Midrashsätze,” 22 (my translation).
53
Cf. Windisch (Hebräerbrief, 124), who thinks the form of Hebrews is most likely
that of the synagogal homily; Hartwig Thyen, Der Stil der jüdisch-hellenistischen Homilie
(FRLANT 65; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1955), 17–18.
paraklÆsevw (Heb 13:22, “message of exhortation”).54 Hans-Friedrich

Weiss has shown that this phrase is a terminus technicus for the read-
ing of the sermon or homily that follows the reading of “Torah and
Prophets.”55 It was used in the Hellenistic synagogues in connection
with the exegesis of Scripture, with the intent that the faith of the
congregation should be strengthened and related to their own situ-
ation through the exegesis of Scripture in a midrashic form. In par-
ticular, the doctrinal presuppositions of the congregation interact with
the interpretation of texts from Scripture both in content and in
structure.
It is clear that Heb 13:22–25 is full of problems. This passage
was written by someone who wanted to use Hebrews as a true
Epistle—i.e., as a written text. It therefore marks the transition from
an oral to a written tradition. This is similar to what happened with
the rabbinic literature at the end of the second century. It is only
in Heb 13:22 that we find the signal that Hebrews may be a spoken
text—a homily—which presents a logos-theology. Perhaps the editor
already encountered Hebrews as a homily and assumed at the end
of the text that it is must be a lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw.
Dr. theol. Elke Tönges

Wissenschaftliche Assistentin am Lehrstuhl
für Neues Testament und Judentumskunde
Ruhr-Universität Bochum
Evangelisch-Theologische Fakultät, GA 8/145
Universitätsstrasse 150, D-44780 Bochum, Germany
[email protected]
54
Cf. Attridge, Hebrews, 404; cf. Acts 13:22–25.
55
Cf. Hans-Friedrich Weiss, Der Brief an die Hebräer (KEK 13; Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 40.
HEBREWS, AN ANCIENT SYNAGOGUE HOMILY
FOR TISHA BE-AV: ITS FUNCTION,
ITS BASIS, ITS THEOLOGICAL
INTERPRETATION
Gabriella Gelardini
Introduction
The thesis of this article is that the book of Hebrews is an ancient

synagogue homily. This form-critical claim is not new in Hebrews
scholarship, but the original approach here is that known aspects of
production and reception aesthetics regarding ancient synagogue hom-
ilies are applied to Hebrews. It is firstly asked whether there is tex-
tual evidence of the synagogue as its Sitz im Leben (1.1 and 2.1).
Secondly, the function of the ancient synagogue homily is consid-
ered, namely, that it ought to interpret a reading from the Torah
and a complementary reading from the Prophets (1.2 and 2.2).
Thirdly, the readings from the Torah (1.4 and 2.4) and the Prophets
are reconstructed (1.5 and 2.3), and their central and structuring role
in the text is shown. Fourthly, the basis of Hebrews in the liturgi-
cal reading cycle—in this case the Palestinian Triennial Cycle—and
the place of the two readings it contains along with its theological
interpretation are analyzed (1.3 and 2.5). And lastly, form-critical
aspects are brought into consideration (1.6). The conclusions pre-
sented here constitute a distillation of what I have examined in my
dissertation, “‘Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht’: Der Hebräer, eine
Synagogenhomilie zu Tischa be-Aw” (Diss. theol., University of Basel,
2004).
108 gabriella gelardini
1. The Ancient Synagogue Homily in its Liturgical Context
1.1. The Sitz im Leben of the Ancient Synagogue Homily:

The Sabbath Gathering
All important literary sources for early Jewish practice, such as the
New Testament,1 Josephus,2 Philo,3 rabbinic texts,4 as well as epigraphic
evidence as found in the Theodotus Inscription,5 presuppose a reg-
ular, liturgical, and non-sacrificial Sabbath gathering within the ancient
synagogue. According to Lee I. Levine, this gathering was fashioned
along the lines of the covenant-renewal ceremony as portrayed in
Neh 8:1–8.6 In Jewish tradition this passage is therefore perceived
as one of the earliest postexilic literary sources to give a precise
account of the various elements of such liturgical gatherings. From
the proto-Sabbath gathering in Nehemiah, the reading and inter-
preting (teaching) of the holy Scriptures developed into the most
important part of the Sabbath gathering of New Testament times.
1.2. The Function of the Ancient Synagogue Homily: The Teaching of the
Sacred Texts
Nehemiah 8:8 states:7 “So they read from the book, from the law of
God [= Torah], with interpretation [= homily]. They gave the sense
[= translation], so that the people understood the reading” (italics
and comments added). Traditionally,8 “giving the sense” was associ-
ated with the translation; as a rule, this meant a translation from
Hebrew into Aramaic, with the Targumim as its literary remnants.
“Interpretation,” on the other hand, was perceived as the explanation
or teaching of the read portion, hence, the homily—or, in Hebrew,
the derasha. For this argument it is important to keep in mind that
the homily had the function of explaining, teaching, and applying
1
See Luke 4:16; Acts 13:14, 42, 44; 17:2; 18:4.
2
E.g., Josephus, C. Ap. 2.175.
3
E.g., Philo, Somn. 2.127.
4
E.g., t. Sukkah 4:6.
5
E.g., Kenneth C. Hanson, “The Theodotus Inscription,” n.p. [cited 7 November
2004]. Online: http://www.kchanson.com/ANCDOCS/greek/theodotus.html.
6
Lee I. Levine, The Ancient Synagogue: The First Thousand Years (New Haven: Yale
7
Biblical citations follow the nrsv.
8
Levine, The Ancient Synagogue, 501.
hebrews, an ancient synagogue homily for TISHA BE-AV 109
the lection. By the first century this three-step procedure of reading,

translating, and interpreting in the context of a weekly ceremony
had become an universal Jewish practice. Levine states: “It was a
unique liturgical feature in the ancient world; no such form of wor-
ship was known in paganism.”9
1.3. The Basis of the Ancient Synagogue Homily: The Palestinian

Triennial Cycle
It was said that the reading from the Torah was the basis of the
synagogue homily. We do know that not only a passage from the
Torah but another scriptural passage gave basis to the synagogue
homily; the additional one usually was taken from the Prophets. That
there were two reading portions prior to the delivery of the sermon
is evidenced not least in several New Testament passages, such as
Acts 13:14–41. It is assumed that the readings from the Torah were
established earlier; the entire Torah was divided into portions and
strictly read in lectio continua. The readings from the Prophets, on the
other hand, were established later; these readings had to comple-
ment the readings from the Torah, and hence were never read in
toto nor in lectio continua.10
9
Levine, The Ancient Synagogue, 139; Charles Perrot, “The Reading of the Bible
in the Ancient Synagogue,” in Mikra: Text, Translation, Reading and Interpretation of the
Hebrew Bible in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity (ed. Martin J. Mulder and Harry
Sysling; vol. 1 of The Literature of the Jewish People in the Period of the Second Temple and
the Talmud; CRINT sec. 2; Assen: Van Gorcum, 1988), 137; See Matt 4:23; 9:35;
13:54; Mark 1:21–22, 39; 6:2; Luke 4:15, 31–32, 44; 6:6; 13:10; John 6:59; 18:20;
Acts 9:20; 13:14–16; 19:8; Josephus, A. J. 16.43.
10
Ben Zion Wacholder, Prolegomenon to The Palestinian Triennial Cycle: Genesis and
Exodus with a Hebrew Section containing Manuscript Material of Midrashim to these Books
(vol. 1 of The Bible as Read and Preached in the Old Synagogue: A Study in the Cycles of
the Readings from Torah and Prophets, as well as from Psalms and in the Structure of Midrashic
Homilies, by Jacob Mann; LBS; New York: Ktav, 1971; repr. of 1940 edition with
new Prolegomenon), XV: Wachholder believes that the reading from the Prophets
was introduced during the Second Temple period: “But we have to dispose first of
a medieval legend that ascribed the origin of the custom of reciting several verses
from the Prophets, called haphtarah, to the fourth decade of the second century bce.
When Antiochus IV, it is said, prohibited the reading of the Torah, the edict was
evaded by a recitation of a Prophetic portion; and this substitute survived the per-
secution. There is nothing in our sources to substantiate the legend, except to say
that the haphtarah originated in the days of the Second Temple.” Levine (The Ancient
Synagogue, 143) also sees the beginnings of the reading from the Prophets in Hasmonean
times (cf. Prologue to Sirach; 2 Macc 2:13; 15:9): “The Hasmonean era—with its
many upheavals and dramatic political, military, social, and religious developments—
gave rise to messianic expectations and hopes of renewed grandeur in certain circles;
The reading pairs were organized in lectionary cycles; we know

of the existence of two such cycles, the Palestinian Triennial Cycle
(PTC) and the Babylonian Annual Cycle (BAC). As the name implies,
the PTC provided a reading through the Torah in three years (or
three and an half ), and it was in use in ancient Palestine and in
Palestinian Jewish colonies in the Diaspora; for instance, it had been
adapted by the ancient Roman Jewish community.11 The BAC pro-
vided a reading through the Torah in one year and was in use in
the Diaspora; the BAC prevailed over the PTC and is nowadays
used by most Jewish communities around the world.12 Both their ori-
gins and their complex histories of development remain nebulous.
The first explicit literary mentioning of two reading cycles is given
in the Babylonian Talmud, which dates from Byzantine times. There,
in Meg. 29b, the PTC is compared to the Babylonian one; the text
reads: “In the west [= ancient Palestine], where the Torah is con-
cluded in three years” (comment added). The wording and context
of this imply, Levine argues, that the two reading cycles had by then
long been established, and that both were integral parts of standard
synagogue praxis.13
Nonetheless, the PTC seems to be the older lectionary cycle, since
the oldest rabbinic corpora (haggadah, halakah, homiletic Midrashim,
Targumim, and Piyyutim) are mostly based on the PTC. Despite
poor evidence, Levine along with others is convinced that the read-
ings from the Torah within the PTC were established no later than
the third century bce and the readings from the Prophets no later
than the first century ce,14 and that the PTC was followed prior to
apocalyptic speculation emerged, and eschatological groups such as the Dead Sea
sect combed the Prophets for contemporary allusions. The use of the prophetic cor-
pus—or variations of it, as the apocalyptic mode appears to be—seems to have
flourished at the time, and it may well have been this climate that gave rise to
such institutionalized recitations.”
11
See the brochure of the “Museo Ebraico di Roma,” Lungotevere Cenci, 000186
Rome, Italy.
12
Louis Jacobs, “Reading of Torah: History,” EncJud 15:1247.
13
Levine, The Ancient Synagogue, 140–141.
14
Levine, The Ancient Synagogue, 138–139; Wacholder, “Prolegomenon,” XII,
XIV–XV: According to Deut 31:9–13, Moses decrees the public reading of the
laws right after having them written down. The reading ought to take place every
seven years during Sukkoth. That is perhaps why Josephus, Philo, the New Testament,
and the Talmud ascribe the weekly study of the Scriptures to Moses. It then remains
unclear whether Ezra (cf. Neh 8:14–15) picked up an existing custom or whether
he was the one who introduced the public reading of certain passages during the
feasts (fifth century bce).
the Second Temple’s destruction, as the oldest synagogue homilies

seem to imply.15 It is important at this point to keep in mind that
if an ancient synagogue homily—as, for instance, the book of
Hebrews—was based on a lectionary cycle, most likely it was based
on the PTC, or maybe on an early form of it. But it remains to be
mentioned that although there were local variants as to the read-
ings, one must take into account the valuable advice of Charles
Perrot, who states: “The readings of the [P]TC are a little like the
ancient Jewish prayers: freedom of formulation must be joined by
the recurrence of motifs already established by custom. Synagogues
were not at the mercy of their own fantasies.”16
1.4. The Torah Reading, the Sidrah

The Torah portion within the PTC was named sidrah (pl. sedarim).
As mentioned above, the Torah was to be read in portions, no less
than three verses at a time, and in lectio continua. According to the
Mishnah, the earliest literary source giving an account of reading
rules, the Torah reading had to continue on each Sabbath exactly
where it had ended the week before, until the entire Torah was read
through (m. Meg. 3:4; cf. also t. Meg. 3(4):10 and b. Meg. 24a).17
One can imagine that traditions to demarcate the sedarim evolved
over time, depending on local liturgical traditions and theological
preferences. It is important to remember that in the absence of a
numerical system of reference, passages often were delimited by con-
tent and by narrative logic, and the introductory words gave a pas-
sage its name. This practice is already found in the oldest rabbinic
corpus, the Mishnah (e.g., m. Meg. 4:5–6). The traditions of demar-
cation left their traces in MSS as early as the first century bce, as
Josef M. Oesch showed in his investigation of MSS from the Judean
Desert; as part of the Oral Torah, the divisions in the text were to
be handed down faithfully in scrolls manufactured for liturgical use.
Two of the most important terms indicating a demarcation in Hebrew
texts, petucha (opening) and setuma (closing), were already introduced
15
16
Perrot, “Reading of the Bible,” in Mikra (ed. Mulder and Sysling), 1:139.
17
According to m. Meg. 3:10, the following passages were allowed to be read but
not translated in public: Gen 35:22; 38; Exod 32:22–24; Num 6:24–27; 2 Sam
11:2–27; 13.
in the Mishnah as termini technici.18 The PTC is known to have divided

the Torah into 154, 161, 167, and 175 sedarim;19 the BAC instead
up to this day divides it into 54 parashot.20
The earliest reading rules in the Mishnah contain the introduc-
tion of special readings for upcoming feast and fast days (m. Meg.
4:5–6, cf. also b. Meg. 31b). It is assumed that these resemble a cus-
tom that had only become necessary after the destruction of the
Second Temple and the forced cessation of its sacrifices. This might
be indicated by the fact that the two readings during feast and fast
days usually were accompanied by an additional Torah reading, the
so-called maftir, named after the additional sacrifices at Temple times.
It is important to keep in mind that the synagogue homily of New
Testament times most likely did not yet know these special feast and
fast readings; hence, if a feast or fast did come up, the regular
Sabbath reading before or after would be theologically and narra-
tively linked to the upcoming feast or fast, by means of the homily.
1.5. The Reading from the Prophets, the Haphtarah

The reading from the Prophets had to follow the Torah reading;
the Hebrew term consequently became haphtarah (pl. haphtaroth), mean-
ing the “conclusion” of the liturgical reading. The earliest and most
important source to attest that the Torah reading was followed by
a short reading from the Prophets is Acts 13:15 (cf. also Luke 4:17–20).
It was stated in 1.3 above that Levine believes the prophetic read-
ings in the PTC were fixed by the first century ce. To him, Luke
4:17 is proof of this fact; the verse reads: “[A]nd the scroll of the
prophet Isaiah was given to him [ Jesus]. He unrolled the scroll and
18
Perrot, “Reading of the Bible,” in Mikra (ed. Mulder and Sysling), 1:156; Josef
M. Oesch, Petucha und Setuma: Untersuchungen zu einer überlieferten Gliederung im hebräi-
schen Text des Alten Testaments (OBO 27; Fribourg: Paulusdruckerei, 1979), 362–363.
19
Perrot, “Reading of the Bible,” in Mikra (ed. Mulder and Sysling), 1:140: scribes
would often place the number of sedarim either in the margin or at the end of the
scroll. Editorial Staff, “Triennial Cycle,” EncJud 15:1386: 154 represent the mini-
mum, 161 the maximum of possible Sabbaths in a year. 167 sedarim were in use
by the Yemenites. The difference in number is caused by the fact that a feast or
fast day could fall on a Sabbath. In this case, the regular reading was interrupted
and substituted with a special reading of the day. The cyclic reading was picked
up again on the consecutive Sabbath. To divide the Torah into 175 sedarim repre-
sented a custom in which the Torah was read in three and a half years, hence
concluded twice in seven years.
20
The alternative term parashah (pl. parashoth) derives from Nehemiah and means
literally “read in portions” (cf. Neh 8:8: vr:pom)] .
found the place where it was written.”21 Yet whether the expression
“found the place [eren tÚn tÒpon]” indeed means that the haphtaroth
were fixed and this is why Jesus “found” his reading is disputed by
others.22
Once again, in the Mishnah (and Babylonian Talmud) we find
the earliest rules regarding the haphtaroth; the most important factor
was that the haphtarah had to follow the sidrah because it was sup-
posed to complement it and had to be “similar” in content (b. Meg.
29b). Due to this different function, the haphtaroth were never intended
to be read in toto nor in lectio continua; as a matter of fact, even within
the same Sabbath gathering one was allowed to skip parts and jump
between different prophetic books (m. Meg. 3:4; b. Meg. 24a). Its length
originally had to be in the range of three to five verses (m. Meg. 3:4;
t. Meg. 3:18; cf. also Luke 4:18–19 with a length of two verses). In
m. Meg. 3:10 and t. Meg. 3:1–9 we are given lists of passages that
were not only forbidden to be translated but even to be read in
public.23 Within the PTC, 50% of the haphtaroth were from the book
of Isaiah, especially from chapters 40–66, and only 1.8% from the
book of Jeremiah.24
1.6. Form-Critical Aspects of the Ancient Synagogue Homily

The most important sources for form-critical aspects of ancient syn-
agogue homilies may be found in the oldest homiletic Midrashim.
Even though they display a later state of textual development than
the relevant New Testament texts, they do remain relevant in offering
important form-critical clues for Hebrews, because they seem to use
and recompose older material.25
Form criticism of rabbinic homiletic material has identified two
types of homilies: the petichta (or proem) and the yelammedenu. The less
frequent type, the yelammedenu, was a more spontaneous homily, which
was inspired by questions posed from the audience to the preacher
regarding the readings of the day. The more frequent type,26 the
21
22
E.g., Wacholder, “Prolegomenon,” XX; Levine, The Ancient Synagogue, 142 n. 95.
23
Especially Ezra 1 and 16 were forbidden.
24
Wacholder, “Prolegomenon,” XXXII.
25
Joseph Heinemann, “Preaching: Homilies in the Midrashim,” EncJud 13:997.
26
Avigdor Shinan, “Sermons, Targums and the Reading from Scriptures in the
Ancient Synagogue,” in The Synagogue in Late Antiquity (ed. Lee I. Levine; Philadelphia:
American Schools of Oriental Research, 1987), 98: So far 2,000 petichtot have been
petichta, usually required a careful literary composition. Both homily

types could emphasize either the Torah reading, with a more exhor-
tative connotation, or the reading from the Prophets, with a more
comforting connotation (cf. e.g., Luke 4:21–27; Acts 13:16–41).27
Since in this investigation what is of interest is the more common,
fully-composed homily (with a more exhortative connotation), it is
important to understand the production-aesthetical requirements of
petichtot. This homily usually consisted of three parts: the introduc-
tion (some times named petichta as well); the main part; and quite
often a messianic and paraenetic ending (named chatima).28 Whereas
the structure of petichta and chatima are fairly well researched, the
middle part is not. Recall that in the synagogue gathering the homily
was delivered after the reading and the translation. Because the
Torah had just been read, the introduction of the homily was not to
quote the sidrah explicitly except for its initial verse; yet, the preacher
(in Hebrew, the darshan) had to refer to it in midrashic manner. He
would do so by quoting similar passages or passages associated with
the sidrah of the day, and he would especially use passages from the
book of Psalms. By taking associative leaps he had to end the intro-
duction of his homily with the explicit quotation of the starting verse
of the sidrah.29 The more comforting middle part in this type of
homily then had to contain an explicit and literal quotation of the
haphtarah. The final part would end in exhortative and comforting
applications of the scripture for the audience’s situation. Such an
aesthetics of production was required owing to the intended recep-
tion aesthetics suitable for oral societies. The preacher had the chal-
lenging task of entertaining his audience, from scholars to illiterate
children.30 The better he managed to commence at a remote point
found in midrashic literature. Since most of them end with the opening verse of
the Torah reading, it is assumed that they were originally composed for use in the
synagogue.
27
Christoph Dohmen and Günter Stemberger, Hermeneutik der Jüdischen Bibel und
des Alten Testaments (KStTh 1,2; Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1996), 108.
28
Dohmen and Stemberger, Hermeneutik, 108–109; Günter Stemberger, Einleitung
in Talmud und Midrasch (rev. 8th ed.; München: C. H. Beck, 1992), 241–244; Perrot,
“Reading of the Bible,” in Mikra (ed. Mulder and Sysling), 1:158.
29
Ismar Elbogen, Der jüdische Gottesdienst in seiner geschichtlichen Entwicklung (Hildesheim:
Georg Olms, 1995; 2d repr. of the 3d rev. ed., 1931), 196; Stemberger, Einleitung,
241–242.
30
Avigdor Shinan, “Synagogues in the Land of Israel: The Literature of the
Ancient Synagogue and Synagogue Archaeology,” in Sacred Realm: The Emergence of
the Synagogue in the Ancient World (ed. Steven Fine; Oxford: Oxford University Press,
1996), 140.
and move associatively towards the initial verse of the sidrah, the
more the audience thought him a skilled and humorous rhetor.31 A
good example of this technique within an introduction may be found
in Gen. Rab. 55:2–3 to Gen 22:1.32
2. Hebrews, an Ancient Synagogue Homily for Tisha be-Av
2.1. The Sitz im Leben of Hebrews: The Sabbath Gathering

Does the book of Hebrews hint at a context within the synagogue?
I believe it does, because of at least seven observations. The inter-
pretation of the sacred texts in the context of the Sabbath gather-
ing must be perceived as (basically adult) education. For ancient
31
Heinemann, “Preaching,” 13:995: “The rabbis contrasted the synagogues and
the houses of study and their sermons with the attractions of the circus and of the
theater of the Roman-Hellenistic world. Remarkably enough, they succeeded in
making the bulk of the people prefer the former: ‘They that sit in the gate talk of
me’ (Ps 69:13) was given two different interpretations: ‘. . . those are the gentiles
who sit in their theaters and circuses . . . scoffing me . . .; and . . . those are Israel
who sit in the synagogues and houses of study . . . reading dirges and lamentations
and Ekhah’ (Lam. Rab., Proem 17). However, the well-to-do would, at times, stay
away from such ‘vulgar’ gatherings (b. Gi†. 38b). The audience expressed their
approval and enjoyment; at times, they reacted with laughter, or, when the preacher
did not succeed in arousing them, with indifference. The preachers would adapt
their interpretations and examples to the level of the audience; and when address-
ing simple people they would not refrain from using very telling, even ribald, phrases
or illustrations (Lev. Rab. 18,1 . . .). The popularity of the aggadic sermon emerges
clearly from the following statement: ‘In times of old when the perutah [a small coin]
was easy to come by, a man would desire to hear words of Mishnah and of Talmud;
but now when the perutah is no longer easily found, and moreover we are suffering
from the kingdom [i.e., Roman rule], a man desires to hear words of Scripture
and words of aggadah’ (Pesiq. Rab Kah. 101b).”
32
“‘The Lord tests the righteous . . . (Ps 11:5).’ Rabbi Jonathan said: This pot-
ter does not examine defective vessels, because he cannot give them a single blow
without breaking them. What does he examine? Sound vessels, even if he hits them
a few times for he will not break them. Thus, the holy One, blessed be He, does
not test the wicked but the righteous.
Rabbi Jose son of R. Hanina said: This flax worker, when he knows that his
flax is of good quality, the more he beats it the more it improves and the more it
glistens. When it is of poor quality, he cannot give it one knock without it split-
ting. Thus, the Holy One, blessed be He, does not test the wicked but the right-
eous, for it is said: ‘The Lord tests the righteous . . . (Ps 11:5).’
Rabbi Lazar said: Regarding a householder who possesses two cows, one strong
and the other feeble, upon which does he put the yoke? Upon the strong one.
Thus, the Holy One, blessed be He, tests the righteous, for it is said: ‘The Lord
tests the righteous . . . (Ps 11:5).’
Another interpretation: ‘The Lord tests the righteous.’ This is Abraham: ‘And
God tested Abraham (= Torah opening verse: Gen 22:1).’”
societies, with its embedded religions, education had a sacred/reli-

gious connotation to it. Learning and doing the law was portrayed
as the highest ideal of a pious son (and daughter) of Israel. Hebrews’
formal self-definition as word of exhortation, as toË lÒgou t∞w
paraklÆsevw (Heb 13:22), belongs in the context of the synagogue
and ought to help the audience to stay within or come back into
the covenantal relationship with God; the only other use of lÒgow
paraklÆsevw in the New Testament is to be found in Acts 13:15
and refers explicitly to a synagogue homily following the two read-
ings. The homily was delivered by teachers and leaders; the titles
didãskalow (Heb 5:12) and ≤gem≈n (in participial form, Heb 13:7,
17, 24) are not only found in Hebrews but are also evidenced in
epigraphic sources related to ancient synagogues.33 Incidentally, as
we learn from Heb 13:23, our author and teacher is one who trav-
els, which might identify him as an itinerant preacher. Other didac-
tical references may be found in Heb 5:11–6:2; 12:5–11. The teaching
material was of course taken from the sacred texts. It is then not
surprising that Hebrews is one of the books in the New Testament
with the most quotations and explanations from the Hebrew Bible.
The implied listeners are addressed as §kklhs¤a in Heb 2:12 (cf.
also Heb 12:23). They are also exhorted not to leave the commu-
nal gathering, the §pisunagvgÆ, in Heb 10:25. When they are invited
to “approach the throne” in Heb 4:16 and informed that they “have
come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly
Jerusalem” in Heb 12:22, I believe reference is being made to places
in an implicit sacred geography of the synagogue; “throne” and
“heavenly Jerusalem” are highly cultic references, which only seem
to make sense within a “cultic” building such as the Diaspora syn-
agogue.34 Finally, the deeds of charity (Heb 6:10; 13:3, 16) and hos-
pitality (Heb 13:2) also belong in the context of ancient synagogues.
2.2. The Function of Hebrews: The Teaching of the Sacred Texts

It was stated in 1.2 that synagogue homilies functioned as teaching
(interpretation, application) of a pair of readings through a teacher
33
Carsten Claussen, Versammlung, Gemeinde, Synagoge: Das hellenistisch-jüdische Umfeld
der frühchristlichen Gemeinden (StUNT 27; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2002),
285.
34
For a more detailed treatment of this subject matter, see Gabriella Gelardini,
addressing a synagogue community. It seems as though Hebrews fits

this description, since the author appears concerned to draw a cer-
tain teaching to the addressees’ attention. He does so by referring
to earlier delivered teachings, for instance in Heb 2:1 (to›w ékousye›sin),
Heb 2:3 (lale›syai), Heb 5:12 (didãskein Ímçw35 . . . t«n log¤vn toË
yeoË), and Heb 13:7 (§lãlhsan Ím›n tÚn lÒgon toË yeoË). Moreover,
the author refers to the Hebrew Bible as authority; since he has the
Greek translation as his basis, the Apocrypha must be regarded as
an integral part of his “canon.” He refers to Scripture by using lÒgow
(Heb 2:2), nÒmow (Heb 7:5, 12, 19, 28 [twice]; 8:4; 9:19, 22; 10:1,
8, 28), nenomoy°thtai (Heb 7:11), §ntolÆ (Heb 7:5, 16, 18; 9:19),
dika¤vma (Heb 9:1, 10), prof∞tai (Heb 1:1), diayÆkh (Heb 8:9 [twice];
9:4 [twice], 15, 20; 10:29), and kefal¤di bibl¤ou (Heb 10:7). The
seemingly countless explicit and implicit quotations and references
to the lxx are introduced by the author with lexemes such as: e‰pon
(Heb 3:10; 4:3, 4; 10:30; 13:5), fhsin (Heb 8:5), lal°v (Heb 1:1,
2; 4:8), and l°gv (Heb 1:6, 7; 3:7, 15; 4:7; 5:6; 6:14; 7:21; 8:8
[twice], 9, 10, 13; 10:16; 12:26).36 With all that in view, Hebrews
most definitely gives the impression of a careful literary composition
with a concentric overall structure.37
2.3. The Haphtarah of Hebrews: Jer 31:31–34

As was stated in 1.5, early haphtaroth were in the range of three to
five verses. And moreover, since in the PTC prophetic readings from
Jeremiah were much less frequent than readings from Isaiah, Heb
8:8–12 (partially repeated in Heb 10:16–17) in the middle part of
the homily must catch one’s attention. Not only are the four verses
of Jer 31:31–34 the longest quotation from the lxx in the New
Testament, but covenant renewal as a central theme in the overall
textual landscape of Hebrews has gained increasing recognition in
“‘Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht’: Der Hebräer, eine Synagogenhomilie zu Tischa be-
Aw” (Diss. theol., University of Basel, 2004), 93–102.
35
That Jesus “taught” (didãskv) his sermon in the synagogue can be found in
Matt 4:23; 9:35; 13:54; Mark 1:21; 6:2; Luke 4:15; 6:6; 13:10; John 6:59; 18:20.
36
Likewise, other synagogue homilies in the New Testament draw heavily upon
the Hebrew Bible. See Luke 4:18–27; John 6:26–59; Acts 13:16–41; 17:2–3.
37
For a more detailed treatment of the literary composition, see Gelardini,
“‘Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht,’” 169–334 (especially chs. 8.2.1, 8.3.1, 8.4.1, 8.5.1,
and 8.6.1).
Hebrews scholarship in recent years. In this context, I would like to

mention the commentary of Harold W. Attridge38 and the mono-
graphs by John Dunnill39 and Knut Backhaus.40
A closer look at reconstructed and extant lectionary lists of the
PTC testifies to several variant readings from Jer 31, namely, the
oldest, Jer 31:31–34 (which forms its own paragraph in the BHS ),41
then Jer 31:32–39,42 but also Jer 31:33–40 (cf. Table 2).43 All vari-
ants contain the same theme: God’s desire to renew his covenant
with Israel after having rejected them because they broke the covenant
by sinning. Verses 35–40 speak of the rebuilding of the “city” (of
Jerusalem), which shall never be destroyed thereafter.
2.4. The Sidrah of Hebrews: Exod 31:18–32:35

If Hebrews contains the haphtarah of Jer 31:31–34 literally quoted in
the central part, the next task is to identify the sidrah. It was previ-
ously stated that the sidrah would be found in the introduction, which
would refer to it in midrashic manner and end by quoting the ini-
tial verse of the sidrah. Another clue is given by the fact that the
sidrah should be similar or complementary to the quoted haphtarah.
Reconstructions of the PTC to discover which Torah portion would
have been paired with Jer 31 point towards the narration of the
golden calf in Exod 32–34. Jacob Mann makes clear in his monu-
mental monograph that in regard to these two chapters “shifting of
sedarim” took place,44 possibly because of the partially harsh content
in Exod 32–33. Tradition is hence aware of at least two variants: a
multiply-testified and older reading from Exod 31:18(–32:35?) and a
38
Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the
Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989).
39
John Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice in the Letter to the Hebrews (SNTSMS 75;
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).
40
Knut Backhaus, Der Neue Bund und das Werden der Kirche: Die Diatheke-Deutung des
Hebräerbriefs im Rahmen der frühchristlichen Theologiegeschichte (rev. and abridged Habil.
theol., Münster, 1994; NTAbh.NF 29; Münster: Assendorff, 1996).
41
Wacholder, “Prolegomenon,” LVII.
42
Perrot, “Reading of the Bible,” in Mikra (ed. Mulder and Sysling), 1:142.
43
Editorial Staff, “Triennial Cycle,” 15:1387–1388. Neither Wachholder nor
Perrot mention an additional haphtarah reading from 1 Kgs 18:27–39.
44
Jacob Mann, The Palestinian Triennial Cycle: Genesis and Exodus with a Hebrew Section
containing Manuscript Material of Midrashim to these Books (vol. 1 of The Bible as Read and
Preached in the Old Synagogue: A Study in the Cycles of the Readings from Torah and Prophets,
as well as from Psalms and in the Structure of Midrashic Homilies; LBS; New York: Ktav,
1971; repr. of 1940 edition with new Prolegomenon), 510–530.
reading from Exod 34:27(–35?; cf. Table 2). As has been shown for
the haphtarah, the material in Exod 31:18–34:35 all belongs to the same
story: The narration gives account of the idolatry with the golden
calf, the consequent punishment of the sons (and daughters), Moses’
intercession, and finally the renewed covenant mediated through him.
It is obvious that the haphtarah from Jer 31:31–34 (covenant renewal)
and a possible sidrah from the chapters Exod 31:18–32:35 (breaking
of the covenant) do indeed complement each other.
The basic theme of Heb 1–2 is the comparison of the son Jesus
to the angels, where the superiority of the former over the latter is
emphasized. Hebrews scholarship has been puzzled by this intro-
ductory theme, because it does not seems to fit well with the rest
of the homily. Yet the motive of the angel’s presence as a punitive
measure by God is an important topos in the account of the idola-
try with the golden calf (Exod 32:34; 33:2–3), and stays very much
an important motive in numerous rabbinic retellings of that same
narrative (e.g., Pesiq. Rab. 10:6, 9). The angel’s presence signifies
God’s absence; it is the reminder of God’s wrath in the aftermath
of Israel’s construction of the golden calf. Like Moses in the Exodus
account, Jesus in Hebrews is able to change God’s wrathful inten-
tions, which are based on the covenant and carried out through
punishing angels.45 The author seems to want to appease the audi-
ence regarding the deadly threat that could endanger them (Heb
2:2–3), by assuring them that the Messiah sent at the end of times
is superior to the angels. Heb 1–2 contains, as expected, many quo-
tations from the book of Psalms.
In Heb 3–6 we find an explicit quotation (Ps 95:7–11, in Heb
3:7–11) and several lengthy interpretations of the Kadesh-barnea
account in Num 13–14. This narrative recounts God’s rejection of
the Exodus generation and hence the irreversible end of the Sinai
covenant. One may argue, then, that Heb 1–6, as the introduction
45
“When they made the golden calf, the angels came bringing accusations against
them. Then it was that Moses said: For I was in dread of the [angels of ] anger and hot
displeasure (Deut 9:19 [cf. Heb 12:21!]). It was then also that Moses rose up forth-
with, girded his loins with prayer and speaking in defense of Israel, sought mercy
of the Holy One, blessed be He. . . . Moses meant: Master of the universe, I know
that they deserve death, in keeping with what thou didst say to me: He that sacrificeth
unto the gods . . . shall be utterly destroyed (Exod 22:19). Nevertheless, I beseech Thee,
deliver them from the destroying angels. Remember the merit of the Fathers: . . .”
(Pesiq. Rab. 10:9, Braude).
of the homily, presents a condensed account ( just two narrative

stages: the gain of Israel’s covenantal status at the beginning [Sinai]
and its loss at the end [Kadesh-barnea]) of the history of this gen-
eration that failed through sin by “turning away from the living
God” (Heb 3:12: t“ épost∞nai épÚ yeoË z«ntow). Sin or sins are
mentioned 29 times in Hebrews,46 while the harsh threats and the
announcement of judgment47 support the earnest mood. Important
within these chapters is the theme of the Sabbath rest in Heb 4:1–11.
Again, its recurrence seems puzzling at first sight, but once it becomes
clear that Heb 4:4 does not quote Gen 2:2 but Exod 31:17b, one
may be surprised to find that the Sabbath rest is the covenant sign
between God and the sons (and daughters) of Israel. To honor the
Sabbath means to honor God the creator, but to ignore the creator
equals the kind of idolatry reported in the next chapter. That is why
disrespect towards the Sabbath rest—at least in the text—requires
the death penalty (Exod 31:12–17). Therefore Heb 4:4 quotes the
beginning of the sidrah, which is not referred to literally but, as has
been shown, midrashically. Consequently, I believe, we are given
good reasons to perceive Exod 31:18–32:35 as the sidrah and Jer
31:31–34 as the haphtarah. These readings are not only the basis but
also the hermeneutical key to this homily. The book of Hebrews
may well constitute the first literary evidence of this pair of read-
ings, which has only been known before from reconstructions of the
ancient PTC employing later evidence.
2.5. The Basis of Hebrews: The Palestinian Triennial Cycle

If the identified sidrah and haphtarah in Hebrews are indeed part of
an early form of the PTC, then these readings, as any other read-
ings, fall into a certain season of the liturgical cycle. The PTC—so
it is mostly assumed—began with the month Nisan,48 because the
biblical account in Exod 12:2 states that God decreed the month of
the Exodus would be the “first,” and hence that month was retro-
jectively perceived as the beginning of the history of the people of
Israel. Moreover, each book of the Torah began on one of the four
46
Heb 1:3; 2:17; 3:13, 17; 4:15; 5:1, 3; (6:6); 7:26, 27; 8:12; 9:26, 28 (twice);
10:2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 11, 12, 17, 18, 26 (twice); 11:25; 12:1, 3, 4; 13:11.
47
Heb 4:12–13; 9:27; 10:26–31; 12:23, 25–29; 13:4.
48
Editorial Staff, “Triennial Cycle,” 15:1389. The article notes that Jacob Mann
believed the beginning of the PTC to be in the month Tishri.
New Years mentioned in m. Ro“ Ha“. 1:1.49 Tables 1–3, drawn from
the Encyclopaedia Judaica, provide a reconstruction of the PTC. As
may be seen from Table 2, the readings of Hebrews fall into the
first week of the fifth month, the month of Av. This month is promi-
nent for containing the most important day of fast in Jewish tradi-
tion, the ninth day of Av, in Hebrew Tisha be-Av. This day of fast,
the “day of fast of the fifth [month],” is known from Zech 8:19 and
later references in the Mishnah (m. Ro“ Ha“. 1:3), the Tosefta (t. Ta'an.
4:6) and the Talmudim (b. Ta'an. 12a; y. Ta'an. 12a). They all speak
as if Tisha be-Av was observed back in the time of the Second Temple.
Tisha be-Av commemorates and mourns over the sins of Israel and
the covenant curse that followed upon them. According to an early
source in the Mishnah (m. Ta'an. 4:6; cf. also b. Ta'an. 29a), making
reference to Num 14:29(–35), it was on Tisha be-Av that God decreed
that the desert generation was not to enter the promised land, because
of its sins (the first being the idolatry at Sinai and the last being at
Kadesh-barnea). As was argued in 2.4, the Kadesh-barnea narration
is given in Heb 3–6. Numbers 14:29 is quoted literally in Heb 3:17
and midrashically treated in Heb 3:7–19 and 4:1–13. Hence not
only the reconstructed PTC but also the Mishnah, and Hebrews
even before, connect Exod 32–34 and Num 13–14 with Tisha be-Av.
The narration in Exod 32–34 speaks of two ascensions of Moses.
The first began on Sivan 1—so rabbinic tradition says—when Moses
stayed forty days in God’s presence, as the biblical account tells us
(Exod 24:18). In knowledge of Israel’s idolatry in the camp, God
sends Moses down (Exod 32:7). Moses descends and ascends on the
same day a second time in order to plead for atonement for this
idolatry of the people. Moses returns again after forty days (Exod
34:28), according to rabbinic tradition on Av 29 (S. 'Olam Rab. 6).
Between the first and the second covenant therefore lay 80 days. To
state an intricate matter simply, these 80 days from Sivan 1 to Av
29 seem to have been shifted at some point from Tammuz 17, when
Moses supposedly smashed the tablets, to Tishri 10. Tishri 10 is the
commemoration (and celebration) of Yom Kippur, the day when
God forgave the first sin of his covenant people, the idolatry with
49
Editorial Staff, “Triennial Cycle,” 15:1386: Genesis began on Nisan 1 of the
first year; Exodus began on Shevat 15 of the first year; Leviticus began on Tishri 1
of the second year; Numbers began on Shevat 15 of the second year; and Deuteronomy
began on Elul 1 of the third year.
the golden calf, and all other sins of Israel in consequence. These
eighty days, in the form of the Ten Special Sabbaths (= 80 days),
received great attention in Jewish liturgy. The three Sabbaths from
Tammuz 17 to Tisha be-Av (21 days) conventionally had exhortative
sermons, whereas comforting sermons were required for the seven
Sabbaths from Tisha be-Av to Yom Kippur on Tishri 10 (59 days).
Sermons, homiletic Midrashim, from this liturgical season are pre-
served in the corpora Pesiqta de Rab Kahana and Pesiqta Rabbati. It is
important to understand at this point that theologically speaking Tisha
be-Av and Yom Kippur do presuppose each other, the one is mir-
rored in the other, which may explain why only these two days in
the liturgical year require the most rigorous fasting. On the one
hand, then, the fast day (Tisha be-Av) firstly commemorates the sins
but looks hopefully to their forgiveness promised at Yom Kippur.
On the other hand, the feast day (Yom Kippur) predominantly
rejoices over the forgiveness but at the same time warns against com-
mitting new sins.
Upon returning to Hebrews, we encounter this very polarity. If
Heb 1–6 puts great emphasis on sin, the mood in the central part,
Heb 7–10, changes considerably. The feast day of Yom Kippur is
even mentioned in Heb 9:7, and a deeper analysis of these chap-
ters makes clear that Jesus functions here as the sin offering of Yom
Kippur, by means of which—so the author promises—he will attain
atonement for his people. But not only that, Jesus functions also as
an inauguration sacrifice for the new covenant. More puzzling, though,
remains the question of why Jesus is compared to the high priest; I
believe the sidrah can help to decipher this puzzle. Theologically
speaking, Jesus does exactly what Moses did in Exod 32–34. In rab-
binic tradition Moses is frequently viewed as high priest in the time
when the cult was not erected yet. His atoning intercession during
his second ascension is, so to speak, the first Yom Kippur, the proto-
Day of Atonement before liturgy existed. That is the reason why
Jesus is compared to a high priest. Practically speaking, if the addressees
of Hebrews did read the sidrah from Exod 31:18–32:35, only one
week later they would have heard Exod 33:1–34:35 with its com-
forting content. Hence it makes sense if our author wraps his harsh
exhortation into hopeful words about forgiveness, which is read about
in the next week and yearned for at Yom Kippur. It is interesting
that not only in the New Testament but also in rabbinic tradition
the lowest point in the liturgical year, Tisha be-Av, yielded the most
powerful messianic concepts, the birth of the Messiah and his victorious
deeds (cf. e.g., Heb 1:5–14; 10:37; y. Ber. 2:4). Consequently, Heb
10–13 speaks of the discipline of the sons (and daughters). This dis-
cipline is bestowed on the penitent regardless of the atonement, as
may be learned from Exod 32–34.
The homily ends on an uplifting note, in which the sons (and
daughters) are assured they have regained access to the inherited
land (an access lost on Tisha be-Av due to the breaking of the covenant),
which is a logical consequence of the covenant renewal. That this
land is the heavenly one may have historical reasons. According to
the Mishnah (m. Ta'an. 4:6; cf. also b. Ta'an. 29a), Tisha be-Av com-
memorates not only the prohibition to enter the land but also the
destruction of the First and the Second Temple; later too, the con-
quering of the last stronghold of the Bar Kochba revolt, the city
Bethar, and also the erection of a heathen temple in Jerusalem by
Hadrian and the renaming of the city as Aelia Capitolina. The day
of fast at Tisha be-Av became the most important day of mourning
in Jewish Tradition and ever since has been a symbol of persecu-
tion and misfortune of Jews. The author of Hebrews may be speak-
ing to Jewish slaves in Rome, exiled in the aftermath of the second
Jewish War; that may be why he could not promise the return to
the material city of Jerusalem and was left only with the possibility
of promising the heavenly one, which in Jewish conceptuality exists
exactly above the terrestrial one.
Now that it has been shown that Hebrews is closely linked with
Tisha be-Av, it is possible to pose a second thesis: Hebrews is one of
the oldest pieces of literary evidence that combines the sidrah from
Exod 31:18–32:35 and the haphtarah Jer 31:31–34 with Tisha be-Av.50
This may not least be evidence that the PTC—most likely in an
early form—was indeed already in operation, as Levine claims, at
the end of the first and/or beginning of the second century ce.
50
Elbogen, Jüdische Gottesdienst, 164; Jacobs, “Reading of Torah,” 15:1251–1252;
Leo Trepp, Der jüdische Gottesdienst: Gestalt und Entwicklung (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer,
1992), 174. The Mishnah (m. Meg. 4:6; cf. also b. Meg. 31b) decreed for fast days
the special readings from Lev 26 and/or Deut 28 (cf. Heb 6:7–8). The Tosefta
introduced Deut 4:25–40, which warns against idolatry, and kept Lev 26 (b. Meg.
31b). Another change—or return to the original custom—occurred at the time of
the geonim (seventh century ce). Since the decreed passages in the Mishnah were
chosen in connection with drought, the geonim thought Exod 32:11–14 and Exod
34:1–10 would suit fast days more appropriately. The readings became—besides
the megillat Ekha—in the morning Deut 4:25–40 with Jer 8:13–9:23 and in the after-
noon Exod 32:11–14 and 34:1–10 (or Exod 34:1–19) with Isa 55:6–56:8.
Conclusion
I have tried to show in this article that Hebrews is an ancient syn-

agogue homily of the type petichta with a consequent Sitz im Leben
within the Sabbath gathering. As a homily, Hebrews functions as
interpretation, teaching, and application of the sidrah from Exod
31:18–32:35 (breaking of the covenant) and the haphtarah from Jer
31:31–34 (covenant renewal). The sidrah in the introduction of the
homily is on the one hand not quoted but referred to in midrashic
manner, yet it quotes—as it should—the last verse prior to (or first
verse of ) the sidrah, namely Exod 31:17b in Heb 4:4. As expected,
the complementary haphtarah is quoted explicitly in the central part
of the homily. The fact that these readings appear so central and
serve to structure the homily does justice to the obvious importance
and extraordinary quantity of quotations from the lxx in Hebrews.
The reconstructed readings are part of the PTC in early form, and
they hint at the most important day of fast in Jewish tradition, Tisha
be-Av. This suggestion is confirmed when the central quotations and
the theological concepts in Hebrews are compared with extra-biblical
information on Tisha be-Av.
Dr. theol. Gabriella Gelardini

Wissenschaftliche Oberassistentin am Lehrstuhl für Neues Testament
Universität Basel, Theologische Fakultät
Nadelberg 10, CH-4051 Basel, Switzerland
[email protected]
Table 1
First Year
Sidrah Haphtarah Sidrah Haphtarah Sidrah Haphtarah Sidrah Haphtarah
Nisan Iyyar Sivan Tammuz
Gen 1:1 Isa 42:5 Gen 6:9 Isa 54:9–10 Gen 12:1 Josh 24:3–18 Gen 17:1 Isa 63:10–11
Gen 2:4 (not extant) Gen 8:1 Hab 3:1–5 Gen 14:1 Isa 41:2–14 Gen 18:1 Isa 33:17–34:12
1 Kgs 10:9 2 Kgs 4
Gen 3:24 (not extant) Gen 8:15 Isa 42:7–21 Gen 15:1 Zeph 3:9–19 Gen 19:1 Isa 17:14–18:7
Isa 1:1–17
Gen 5:1 Isa 30:8–15 Gen 9:18 Isa 49:9–13 Gen 16:1 Isa 64:1 Gen 20:1 Isa 61:9–10
Gen 11:1 (not extant) Gen 21:1 1 Sam 2:21–28
Av Elul Tishri Heshvan
Gen 22:1 Isa 33:7–22 Gen 26:11 Isa 65:23–66:8 Gen 30:21 1 Sam 1:11 Gen 35:9 Isa 43:1–7
Gen 23:1 1 Kgs 1:1 Gen 27:1 Isa 46:3–6 Gen 31:3 Jer 30:10–16 Gen 37:1 Jer 38:8
Mic 6:3–7:20
Gen 24:1 Judg 19:20 Gen 27:28 Mic 1:1; 5:7–13 Gen 32:4 Obad 1:1 Gen 38:1 Isa 37:31–37
Gen 24:42 Isa 12:3–14:2 Gen 28:10 Hos 12:13 Gen 33:18 Nah 1:12–2:5 Gen 39:1 Isa 52:3–9
Gen 25:1 2 Sam 5:17–6:1 Gen 29:31 Isa 60:15
Kislev Tevet Shevat Adar

hebrews, an ancient synagogue homily for
Gen 40:23 Amos 1:3–15; Gen 43:24 Jer 42:12–17; Gen 49:27 Zech 14:1 Exod 7:18 Joel 3:3
2:6 43:12–14 Mic 2:12
1 Kgs 3:15
Gen 41:1 Isa 29:8 Gen 44:18 Josh 14:6 Exod 1:1 Isa 27:6 Exod 8:16 Isa 34:11
Ezek 37:10 Ezek 16:1; 20
TISHA BE-AV
Gen 41:38 Isa 11:2–9 Gen 47:28; 1 Kgs 13:14 Exod 3:1 Isa 40:11 Exod 10:1 Isa 19; Jer 4:6
48:1 2 Kgs 20:8 1 Sam 6:6
Gen 42:18 Isa 50:10–52:11 Gen 47:28; 1 Kgs 2:1 Exod 4:14 Isa 55:12 Exod 12:13 Jer 46:13–28
125
48:1
Gen 49:1 Isa 43:2 Exod 6:2 Judg 13:2
Table 2
Second Year
126
Exod 12:29 Isa 21:11 Exod 16:25 Isa 58:23 Exod 24:1 Isa 60:17–61:9 Exod 30:1 Mal 1:11–2:7
Exod 13:1 Isa 46:3 Exod 18:1 Isa 6; 61:6–10 Exod 25:1 Isa 66 Exod 30:12 2 Kgs 12:5
Exod 13:21 Isa 45:24 Exod 21:1 Jer 34:1 Exod 26:31 Ezek 16:10–19 Exod 31:1 Isa 43:7–21
Exod 15:21 Isa 49:10 Exod 22:26 Isa 49:3 Exod 27:20 Hos 14:7 Exod 32:14 2 Sam 22:10–51
Ezek 43:10
Exod 29:1 Isa 61:6
Exod 34:27 Jer 31:33–40 Lev 1:1 Isa 43:21; Lev 6:12 Mal 3:9 Lev 13:29 2 Kgs 5
1 Kgs 18:27–39 Jer. 21:19;
Mic 6:9–7:8
Exod 37:1 1 Kgs 8:8–22 Lev 3:1 Ezek 44:11; Lev 8:1 Ezek 43:27 Lev 14:1 2 Kgs 7:8
20:41
gabriella gelardini
Exod 38:21 Jer 30:18 Lev 4:1 Ezek 18:4–17 Lev 9:1 1 Kgs 8:56–58 Lev 15:1 (not extant)
Exod 39:1 Isa 33:20–34:8 Lev 5:1 Zech 5:3–6:19 Lev 12:1 Isa 66:7 Lev 16:1 Ezek 44:1
1 Kgs 7:13
Lev 6:1 Jer 7:21
Lev 17:1 (not extant) Lev 22:1 (not extant) Lev 26:3 Jer 16:19 Num 4:17 1 Sam 6:10
Ezek 12:20
Lev 18:1 Ezek 22:1 Lev 24:1 (not extant) Num 1:1 Hos 2:1 Num 4:21 Judg 13:2–25
Lev 19:1 Amos 9:7 Lev 25:1 Jer 36:6; Num 2:14 (not extant) Num 5:11 Hos 4:14
Ezek 34
Lev 21:1 Ezek 44:25 Lev 25:39 Isa 24:2 Num 3:14 Isa 43:9 Num 6:1 Judg 13:2
Table 3
Third Year
Num 6:22 (not extant) Num 12:1 — Num 17:16 Ezek 44:15 Num 23:2 (not extant)
Num 8:1 Zech 4:14 Num 13:1 Josh 2:1; Num 18:25 Ezek 44:29 Num 25:10 Mal 2:5
Judg 18:7
Num 9:22 (not extant) Num 14:1 — Num 20:14 Num 26:52 Josh 17:4
Num 11:1 (not extant) Num 15:1 — Num 22:2 Mic 5:6 Num 28:1 Ezek 45:12
Num 16:1 1 Sam 11
Num 30:1 Jer 4:2 Deut 1:1 Jer 30:4 Deut 5:1 (not extant) Deut 10:1 2 Kgs 13:23
Amos 2:9
Num 32:1 Jer 2 Deut 2:1 (not extant) Deut 6:4 1 Kgs 10:39 Deut 11:26 Isa 54:11–55:6
Num 33:1 (not extant) Deut 3:23 Jer 32:16 Deut 8:1 Jer 9:22–24 Deut 12:20 Jer 23:9
Num 34:1 Ezek 45:1 Deut 4:1 (not extant) Deut 9:1 Jer 2:1 Deut 15:7 Isa 61:1–2
Josh 21:41 2 Kgs 8:30
Num 35:9 Josh 20:1
hebrews, an ancient synagogue homily for
Deut 17:14 1 Sam 8:1 Deut 21:10 Isa 54:1–10 Deut 29:9 Isa 55:6–58:8 Deut 33:1 Josh 1:1–18
Mic 7:18–20
Deut 17:24 1 Sam 10:24 (not extant) (not extant) Deut 31:1 Jer 12:15 Deut 34:1 (not extant)
TISHA BE-AV
Deut 18:1 Jer 29:8 (not extant) (not extant) Deut 31:14 Judg 2:7 Shekalim
Deut 20:10 Josh 24:1 Deut 26:1 Isa 60:1–22 Deut 32:1 Ezek 17:22 Zakhor
Parah
127
Ha-Hodesh
PART TWO
SOCIOLOGY, ETHICS, AND RHETORIC IN HEBREWS

PORTRAYING THE TEMPLE IN STONE AND TEXT:
THE ARCH OF TITUS AND THE EPISTLE TO
THE HEBREWS*
Ellen Bradshaw Aitken
The Epistle to the Hebrews has attracted a variety of interpretive

approaches, including readings that are predominantly structural, the-
ological, literary, ethical, or sacramental. Seldom, however, does one
find readings that explicitly explore Hebrews in political or ideolog-
ical terms. This is a result in part of the lack of easily identifiable
historical references in the text.1 It is also a result of the difficulty
both of assigning anything but a fairly broad range of dates for the
composition of Hebrews and of locating its geographical provenance.
Thus Hebrews floats, as it were, unanchored in place and time, lend-
ing itself to readings that are less dependent upon place and time
than are political and ideological approaches.2
* This is a revised version of a paper that was delivered at a conference held

on 24–25 February 2001 at the University of South Florida, and subsequently pub-
lished in Religious Texts and Material Contexts (ed. Jacob Neusner and James F. Strange;
Studies in Ancient Judaism; Lanham: University Press of America, 2001), 73–88.
It was subsequently reprinted with its concluding section in Sewanee Theological Review
45 (2002): 135–151. I thank both publishers for permission to reprint the article
here.
1
Hebrews seldom refers to the historical experience of its audience; an excep-
tion is Heb 10:32–34, “But recall those earlier days when, after you had been
enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly
exposed to abuse and persecution, and sometimes being partners with those so
treated. For you had compassion for those who were in prison, and you cheerfully
accepted the plundering of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves possessed
something better and more lasting” (nrsv). On the relevance of this passage for the
dating of Hebrews, see below.
2
We might compare the development of political readings of parts of the Pauline
corpus, which are facilitated by the relative precision possible in dating these let-
ters. See, for example, Dieter Georgi, Theocracy in Paul’s Praxis and Theology (trans.
David E. Green; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991); Helmut Koester, “From Paul’s
Eschatology to the Apocalyptic Schemata of 2 Thessalonians,” in The Thessalonian
Correspondence (ed. Raymond F. Collins; Louvain: Peeters, 1990), 441–458, reprinted
as “Imperial Ideology and Paul’s Eschatology in 1 Thessalonians,” in Paul and Empire:
Religion and Power in Roman Imperial Society (ed. Richard A. Horsley; Harrisburg, Penn.:
Trinity Press International, 1997), 158–166; and Neil Elliott, Liberating Paul: The
132 ellen bradshaw aitken
It is my contention in this essay, however, that it is possible to

correlate certain aspects of the Christology and the community ethic
found in Hebrews with events in Roman imperial rule, and partic-
ularly its expression in imperial propaganda as it is manifested in
monuments and ritual. This correlation invites an interpretation of
Hebrews in political terms. In order to do so, however, it is neces-
sary to provide the text with a provisional anchor in time and space,
that is, by proceeding on the hypothesis that Hebrews was composed
in the city of Rome in the 70s or early 80s of the first century ce.
Moreover, if the correlation is convincing, it can become the basis
for establishing the plausibility of this hypothesis about the compo-
sitional date and provenance of Hebrews.
More specifically, I am arguing here that Hebrews should be read
as one response to the imperial ideology expressed in the events and
monuments surrounding the triumph of Vespasian and Titus, a tri-
umph bestowed upon them by the Roman Senate for their victory
in the First Jewish War and the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 ce.
To anticipate my conclusions, Hebrews makes use of some of the
elements of the triumph—both the customary rites of the triumph
and the key elements of the Flavian triumph—in order to articulate
resistance to imperial rule and ideology. It does so by depicting to
whom the “real” triumph belongs and where the “real” temple is.
In addition, it does so by promoting an ethic for the community,
its inscribed audience, an ethic that is consonant with the identity
of the true triumphant ruler and that values solidarity with those
who are perceived to be suffering under Flavian rule.
My presuppositions in making this argument include the follow-
ing: First, Hebrews is a highly multivalent text that contains numer-
ous interwoven ways of constructing and defining the identity and
ethic of its audience, as is not uncommon in texts that are homilet-
ical in character.3 Thus, within a broad view, the reading of Hebrews
Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis, 1994). David A.
deSilva’s recent commentary, Perseverance in Gratitude: A Social-Rhetorical Commentary on
the Epistle “to the Hebrews” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), provides an explicitly
social interpretation of Hebrews in that he uses the categories of honor and shame
as markers of social status. Although he speaks of the reproach, loss of honor, low-
ered economic status experienced by Hebrews’ audience as a result of their refusal
to participate in Roman religions, and their rejection of their neighbors’ values, he
assumes this situation as common to all Christian groups and thus does not relate
it to a historical, political situation specific to the audience of Hebrews.
3
On the homiletic character of Hebrews, see Lawrence Wills, “The Form of the
portraying the temple in stone and text 133
presented here is one that works together with others, for example,
a recognition of the way in which the story of the journey through
the wilderness toward the Jordan River is used to constitute the audi-
ence4 or interpretations that emphasize the eschatological dimension
of its worldview and theology.5 Second, Hebrews is ultimately a pare-
netic text, aimed at shaping the community’s way of life.6 Third, I
presuppose that there can be multiple rhetorical sites for developing
political resistance, that such sites do not need to be explicitly polit-
ical, and that a political ideology can be developed through scrip-
tural interpretation, cultic reflection, allegory, and hymnody, as well
as through visual art, coinage, architecture, and religious festivals.7
The Date and Provenance of Hebrews
A brief overview of the main arguments about the compositional

date of Hebrews is in order. A date after 60 ce is supported by the
Sermon in Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity,” HTR 77 (1984): 280–283;

C. Clifton Black, “The Rhetorical Form of the Hellenistic Jewish and Early Christian
Sermon: A Response to Lawrence Wills [HTR 77 (1984): 277–299],” HTR 81 (1988):
1–18; Harold W. Attridge, “Paraenesis in a homily (lÒgow paraklÆsevw),” Semeia
50 (1990): 211–226. See also George W. MacRae, “Heavenly Temple and Eschatology
in the Letter to the Hebrews,” Semeia 12 (1978): 179–199. Hebrews characterizes
itself as a lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw (“word of exhortation”) at 13:22; see Harold W.
Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 14, 408, who points
out that this designation is used in Acts 13:15 for Paul’s synagogue address in
Pisidian Antioch. More recently, David deSilva accepts the position that Hebrews
is a sermon, but one that makes significant use of the conventions of hellenistic epi-
deictic rhetoric; see deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, 58, 514.
4
See Ernst Käsemann, The Wandering People of God: An Investigation of the Letter to
the Hebrews (trans. Roy A. Harrisville and Irving L. Sandberg; Minneapolis: Augsburg,
1984); Ellen Bradshaw Aitken, Jesus’ Death in Early Christian Memory: The Poetics of the
Passion (NTOA 53; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2004), 130–164.
5
See, for example, MacRae, “Heavenly Temple”; C. K. Barrett, “The Eschatology
of the Epistle to the Hebrews,” in The Background of the New Testament and Its Eschatology:
C. H. Dodd Festschrift (ed. W. D. Davies and David Daube; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1954), 363–393; Jean Cambier, “Eschatologie ou hellénisme dans
l’Épître aux Hêbreux: Une étude sur m°nein et l’exhortation final de l’épître,”
Salesianum 11 (1949): 62–86.
6
The alternation of exposition and exhortation in Hebrews is widely recognized
and informs most attempts to outline the structure of Hebrews; see the discussion
in Attridge, Hebrews, 14–21. Attridge also identifies (p. 21) the two types of exhor-
tation found in the text, “let us hold fast” and “let us approach” (both found in
Heb 4:14–16). On the pastoral dimension of Hebrews, see Otto Kuss, “Der Verfasser
des Hebräerbriefes als Seelsorger,” TTZ 67 (1958): 1–12, 65–80.
7
See James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: Hidden Transcripts (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1990).
indications that the audience have been believers for some time (Heb
5:12) and that they are dependent upon others who “heard the Lord”
(Heb 2:3); earlier dates are generally tied to untenable hypotheses
about Paul, Apollos, Aquila, or Priscilla as the author.8 A date fol-
lowing the Neronian persecutions in Rome in 64 ce is suggested by
the references to past persecution of the community (Heb 10:32–34;
12:4).9 Arguments for a terminus ad quem of 96 ce depend upon accept-
ing a secure dating of 1 Clement, with its use of the text of Hebrews,
to 96 ce. Harold W. Attridge, questioning such a certain date for
1 Clement and preferring to place it broadly between 90 and 120 ce,
opts for dating Hebrews before 100 ce because of the reference to
Timothy in the postscript of Hebrews (Heb 13:23). Attridge thus
concludes with a date range for Hebrews of 60–100 ce, with the
possibility of a date in the 70s or 80s because of the theological and
literary affinities with other Christian texts of this period.10
The destruction of the Jerusalem temple has occasionally been
used in arguments about compositional date: the lack of any men-
tion of the destruction of the temple in a text so concerned with the
rituals of the temple, along with the use of the present tense for the
temple activities, has been taken to indicate a date before 70 ce.11
Against this position, I agree with Attridge and Erich Grässer that
Hebrews is concerned not with the Herodian temple per se but with
8
For a summary of arguments about authorship, see Attridge, Hebrews, 1–6;
Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer (3 vols.; EKKNT 17; Zürich: Benziger and Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997), 1:19–22; Frederick F. Bruce, “‘To the Hebrews’:
A Document of Roman Christianity,” ANRW 25.4:3496–3499; deSilva, Perseverance
in Gratitude, 23–39; Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, “Hebrews,” in Searching the Scriptures,
vol. 2: A Feminist Commentary (ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza; New York: Crossroad,
1993), 430–434.
9
See Attridge, Hebrews, 298–299, particularly on how the language of these
verses recalls Tacitus’s description (Annales 15.44) of the persecution of Christians
in Rome under Nero in 64 ce. The reference is admittedly ambiguous, however,
and others, opting for an earlier date, have taken it as a reference to the expulsion
of the Jews from Rome under Claudius in 49 ce; see William Manson, The Epistle
to the Hebrews: An Historical and Theological Reconsideration (London: Hodder and Stough-
ton, 1951), 159–161; Bruce, “‘To the Hebrews,’” 3519.
10
Attridge, Hebrews, 9. Grässer (An die Hebräer, 1:25), following the same lines of
argumentation, prefers a date in the 80s or 90s since he sees indications of increased
pressure on the Christian community, a situation that he relates to the reign of
Domitian (81–96 ce).
11
See, for example, Bruce, “‘To the Hebrews,’” 3514; Albert Vanhoye, Situation
du Christ: Hébreux 1–2 (LD 58; Paris: Cerf, 1969), 50; August Strobel, Der Brief an
die Hebräer (NTD 9/2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975), 83; and most
recently, deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude, 20–21.
the desert tabernacle, and moreover uses the tabernacle cult as a

foundation for the Christology and parenesis of the text.12 The destruc-
tion of the Herodian temple is thus not an expressed element in this
exposition and therefore cannot be determinative of the date of
Hebrews. It is possible to observe, moreover, that this debate cen-
ters on the destruction or loss of the temple per se rather than on the
display and celebration of that destruction as part of the imperial
propaganda of Vespasian, Titus, and Domitian.
The position that Hebrews was composed for an audience in Rome
enjoys a broad consensus, and I shall not fully rehearse the argu-
ments here.13 I would note, however, that arguments that dissent
from this view nonetheless connect Hebrews with Rome in some
fashion, usually locating the author in a Roman context.14 Any
attempts to locate Hebrews geographically must contend with the
phrase “those from Italy greet you” (Heb 13:24, éspãzontai Ímçw
ofl épÚ t∞w ÉItal¤aw), which may equally designate a group within
Italy (including Rome) or a group abroad sending greetings back to
their home community.15
The strong homiletical character of Hebrews also has implications
for the discussion of the provenance and destination of the text. Even
12
Attridge, Hebrews, 8; Grässer, An die Hebräer, 1:25.
13
Key elements in arguing for a Roman provenance for Hebrews include its use
by 1 Clement, especially 36.2–6 but also elsewhere; see Attridge, Hebrews, 6–7; and
Donald A. Hagner, The Use of the Old and New Testaments in Clement of Rome (NovTSup
34; Leiden: Brill, 1973). Peter Lampe is cautious about accepting Hebrews as a text
of Roman Christianity and thus does not discuss it at any length in his study of
earliest Christianity in Rome; see Peter Lampe, Die stadtrömischen Christen in den ersten
beiden Jahrhunderten: Untersuchungen zur Sozialgeschichte (WUNT 2/18; Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 1987), 60–61. Bruce, although dating Hebrews to the reign of Nero, takes
it as a text written most probably to a community in Rome (“‘To the Hebrews,’”
3517–3519). The position that Hebrews was written to a Jewish-Christian house-
church in Rome was put forward more than a century ago by Theodor Zahn,
Introduction to the New Testament (trans. John Moore Trout et al.; 3 vols.; New York:
Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1909 [3d German ed. 1897–1899]), 2.345–351. Adolf von
Harnack followed Zahn’s arguments, arguing, however, not for a Jewish-Christian
group as the addressees, but rather for the house-church associated with Priscilla
and Aquila, and suggesting that Priscilla was the main author of Hebrews, with the
help of Aquila; see Adolf von Harnack, “Probabilia über die Adresse und den
Verfasser des Hebräerbriefs,” ZNW 1 (1900): 16–41.
14
Thus, Hugh W. Montefiore in The Epistle to the Hebrews (New York: Harper,
1964), 9–11, argues that Hebrews was written to the Corinthian church by Apollos,
from Ephesus, but carrying the greetings of the Roman community after the death
of Paul.
15
See Attridge, Hebrews, 10.
though Hebrews is unlikely to be a transcript of a sermon, it cer-

tainly uses considerable material from a homiletical context, mater-
ial that may have developed within a Roman Christian environment.
We might then reasonably suppose that this material was reworked
into an elegant and coherent piece of rhetoric both for internal use
and for sending to other communities. We should therefore expect
ample resonance between the themes, motifs, and arguments of
Hebrews and the experience of Christians in the city of Rome. More-
over, Hebrews lacks a thoroughgoing epistolary character, and we
see little distance between the situation of the inscribed author or
authors and the inscribed audience; both are located in much the
same rhetorical context, a context that can be connected in a num-
ber of ways with Christianity in the city of Rome.16 It is therefore
appropriate to read Hebrews in the context of public life in the city
of Rome, and provisionally, for the purposes of this argument, some-
time in the 70s and 80s—that is, during the reigns of Vespasian,
Titus, and the early years of Domitian.
The Flavian Triumph in Rome
The celebration of the Roman victory in Judea, culminating in the

destruction of Jerusalem, has been characterized as the “Flavian Ac-
tium.” In other words, just as the Battle of Actium in 31 bce provided
one of the chief ideological foundations for Augustan rule, so too did
the Flavians employ the Judean victory as the chief propagandistic
tool for promoting their consolidation of imperial rule, following the
civil wars of 69 ce—the year of the four emperors—as an assertion
of imperial order out of factionalism.17 The Judean war, of course,
provided the political and military ground out of which the general
16
A consistent historical-rhetorical reading of Hebrews has yet to be done. Such
a reading would evaluate the inscribed rhetorical situation (including the inscribed
author and audience) before reconstructing the historical situation of the text. On
such an approach, see Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Rhetoric and Ethic: The Politics of
Biblical Studies (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), esp. 105–128.
17
See Gilbert Charles-Picard, Les trophées romains. Contribution à l’histoire de la reli-
gion et de l’art triomphal de Rome (BEFAR 187; Paris: Boccard, 1957), 343–344, 359–360,
who argues that Jerusalem became the “Flavian Actium.” See also Michael Pfanner,
Der Titusbogen (Beiträge zur Erschliessung hellenistischer und kaiserzeitlicher Skulptur
und Architektur; Mainz: Phillip von Zabern, 1983), 101, on the use of this victory
in Flavian propaganda and on the specific association of the triumph and the apoth-
eosis of Titus.
Vespasian was acclaimed as imperator by the legions under his con-

trol in 69 and from which he began his cautious journey back to
Rome in 70.18 Following Titus’s capture of Jerusalem and the Roman
Senate’s voting of a triumph for Vespasian and Titus in 71, the sub-
jugation of Judea stood at the center of Flavian propaganda. That
is, the Flavian rulers exploited the one-time event of the triumph as
the defining point for the public display of their rule.19 Although the
coin issues depicting Judaea Capta or Judaea Devicta would have spread
across the empire,20 most of the public display was in the city of
Rome itself.21 We may enumerate the chief ceremonial and monu-
mental occasions of this display: in 71, the celebration of the tri-
umph with prayers, procession, executions, and sacrifices; Vespasian’s
building of the Temple of Peace, dedicated in 75, next to the Roman
Forum and in which were housed the spoils from the Jerusalem tem-
ple ( Josephus, J.W. 7.158–161); in 81 or shortly thereafter, following
Titus’s death,22 the erection of the Arch of Titus at the highest point
18
Fergus Millar, The Roman Near East 31 BC–AD 337 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press, 1993), 73–74.
19
On the increased political dimension of the triumph in the principate, see
Michael McCormick, Eternal Victory: Triumphal Rulership in Late Antiquity, Byzantium,
and the Early Medieval West (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 20.
McCormick also points out that by such vehicles as monuments, vestments, coinage,
titles, and religious rites, an emperor could amplify the victory celebrated in the
triumph (21). On the relationship between triumphs and other Roman pompae, see
Harriet I. Flower, Ancestor Masks and Aristocratic Power in Roman Culture (Oxford:
Clarendon, 1996), 107–109. Flower argues that both the triumphal procession and
the funeral procession were “overtly political in content, even and especially in rep-
resenting relationships with the gods” (109). In reading the triumphal rite as polit-
ical, my work is also informed by that of Simon R. F. Price, Rituals and Power: The
Roman Imperial Cult in Asia Minor (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984).
20
See, among others, Harold Mattingly, Coins of the Roman Empire in the British
Museum (6 vols.; London: The British Museum, 1923–1962), 2:115–117. The first
issue dates from 71 ce and appears to have been issued in preparation for the tri-
umph; the coins continued through 73 and were revived in 77–78, as well as under
Titus. See D. Barag, “The Palestinian Judaea Capta Coins of Vespasian and Titus
and the Era on the Coins of Agrippa II Minted under the Flavians,” Numismatic
Chronicle 138 (1978): 14–23; Colin M. Kraay, “The Judaea Capta sestertii of Vespasian,”
Israel Numismatic Journal 3 (1963): 45–46; Mattingly, Coins, 2:xlv–xlvi. E. Mary
Smallwood, The Jews under Roman Rule from Pompey to Diocletian (Leiden: Brill, 1976),
330 n. 164; and McCormick, Eternal Victory, 26–27.
21
Smallwood, Jews under Roman Rule, 329.
22
Titus died in September 81; coins from 81–82 depict him as divus (see Mattingly,
Coins, vol. 2, plate 69, 9; and Peter N. Schulten, Die Typologie der römischen Kon-
sekrationsprägungen [Frankfurt a. M.: Numismatischer Verlag Schulten, 1979], 66–67),
thus establishing a terminus post quem for the arch. Pfanner (Der Titusbogen, 91–92)
argues for a date very early in the reign of Domitian as the most likely time for
the erection of the arch.
of the Via Sacra;23 and apparently another, earlier arch in the Circus
Maximus, erected during the lifetime of Titus, probably circa 80,24
which made explicit mention in its dedicatory inscription of Titus’s
conquest of Judea and Jerusalem, “following the precepts of his
father.”25 The inscription on this earlier arch highlights an impor-
tant dimension of the Flavian ideology, namely, the celebration of
succession from victorious father to victorious son, precisely that
dimension of rule which was missing in the Julian-Claudian period
and most notably in the year of the four emperors (69 ce), during
which the disputes over succession led to civil war.26
The Arch of Titus on the Via Sacra, as is well known, depicts
the triumphal procession, including, on one of the large passageway
reliefs (north), Titus and Vespasian in a four-horse chariot, accom-
panied by lictors, and on the facing relief (south), the weighty spoils
from the Temple—a menorah (lampstand) and the table of the shew-
bread, to which are attached two vessels and two trumpets27—which
23
On the primary function of the triumphal arch from the first century ce onward
as an instrument of imperial propaganda for advertising imperial events and hon-
ors, see Pfanner, Der Titusbogen, 97.
24
This arch has not been found but may be one of at least four triumphal
arches, known from coins, reliefs, and mosaics, in the Circus Maximus, and per-
haps the triple arch depicted on the Forma Urbis Romae (the Marble Plan); on
this hypothesis, see Pfanner, Der Titusbogen, 98. Lawrence Richardson (A Topographic
Dictionary of Ancient Rome [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992], 30)
accepts this location and suggests that it was most likely located at the rounded
end of the Circus Maximus.
25
CIL 6:944; Hans U. Instinsky, “Der Ruhm des Titus,” Philologus 97 (1948):
370–371. The text of the inscription reads: Senatus Populusque Romanus Imp. Tito Caesari
Divi Vespasiani F. Vespanian(o) Augusto Pontif. Max. Trib. Pot. X Imp. XVII (C)os VIII
PP Principi Suo quod praeceptis patr(is) consiliisq(ue) et auspiciis gentem Iudaeorum domuit et
urbem Hierusolymam omnibus ante se ducibus regibus gentibus aut frustra petitam aut omnino
intemptatam delevit. See Pfanner, Der Titusbogen, 98.
26
This dimension is also apparent in the various literary descriptions of the tri-
umph. Josephus ( J.W. 7.121) remarks that, although the Senate had voted a tri-
umph each to Vespasian and Titus, they nonetheless decided to celebrate a common
triumph. Suetonius (Lives of the Caesars 8.6) mentions that Titus shared in his father’s
triumph. Cassius Dio, writing around the beginning of the third century ce, empha-
sizes the importance of the succession in his account of Vespasian’s acclamation
and the celebration of the triumph. According to Cassius Dio (Roman History, epitome
of Book 65.12), upon his acclamation Vespasian is so overcome by emotion that
he is able only to say, “My successor shall be my son or no one at all” (§m¢ m¢n
uflÚw diad°jetai, μ oÈde‹w êllow).
27
For a discussion specifically of the spoils from the Jerusalem temple, see Leon
Yarden, The Spoils of Jerusalem on the Arch of Titus: A Re-investigation (SSIR 8/16;
Stockholm: Paul Åströms, 1991).
are carried in the procession, along with depictions of the battles

and signs with the names of the conquered cities and towns. The
center of the arch’s coffered ceiling shows the apotheosis of Titus.
This arch is the visual depiction of the triumph celebrated some ten
years earlier.28
We have extensive knowledge about the celebration of this tri-
umph, thanks to Josephus’s detailed account of it in his Jewish War
(7.123–162), combined with the relative conservatism of this aspect
of Rome’s ritual life.29 It is possible to identify the key elements:30
the triumph begins outside the city boundary of Rome (the pomerium)
in the Campus Martius, where the triumphators, Vespasian and
Titus, have spent the night ( J.W. 7.123). The triumphators are
crowned with laurel, clad in purple, given the scepter to hold, and
acclaimed ( J.W. 7.124–126). Following prayers and breakfast, the
triumphators and the procession enter the city through a gate, the
Porta Triumphalis,31 at which a sacrifice is made ( J.W. 7.127–130).
The lengthy procession customarily included the captives and the
28
The dedicatory inscription on this arch is simpler than that on the arch in
the Circus Maximus; it reads: Senatus Populusque Romanus Divo Tito Divi Vespasiani F.
Vespasiano Augusto. Pfanner argues (in Der Titusbogen) that the straightforward mes-
sage of this inscription emphasizes the divinization of Titus over the celebration of
the Judean victory per se, although the depiction of the triumph on the arch func-
tions ideologically to support the Senate’s divinization of the emperor.
29
The fifth-century Christian historian Paulus Orosius provides a much shorter
description of the same triumph in Historiae 7.9. His account is notable for his
emphasis on the display of father and son as co-triumphators. “Vespasian and Titus,
the emperors, entered the City celebrating a magnificent triumph over the Jews.
This was a fair sight and one hitherto unknown to all mortals among the three
hundred and twenty triumphs which had taken place from the founding of the City
until that time, namely, father and son riding in one triumphal chariot, bringing
back a most glorious victory over those who had offended the Father and the Son”
(from Paulus Orosius, The Seven Books of History against the Pagans [trans. Roy J.
Deferrari; Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1964], 303).
Josephus does not make mention of a single chariot, although his description is
ambiguous on this point, “behind them Vespasian drove first, and Titus followed,
but Domitian rode alongside” (meyÉ ì OÈespasianÚw ≥laune pr«tow ka‹ T¤tow e·peto,
DometianÚw d¢ par¤ppeuen, J.W. 7.152).
30
A detailed discussion of the history and elements of the triumph, along with
references to the relevant ancient testimonia, can be found in W. Ehlers, “Triumphus,”
RE 30 (1939): 493–511; see also Hendrik S. Versnel, Triumphus: An Inquiry into the
Origin, Development, and Meaning of the Roman Triumph (Leiden: Brill, 1970); and more
recently Ernst Kunzl, Der römische Triumph: Siegesfeiern im antiken Rom (Munich: Beck,
1988).
31
On the importance of the entry into the city and its similarity to the Greek
rite of efis°lasiw, the privilege granted to Olympic victors of a triumphal return to
their native town, see Versnel, Triumphus, 154–163.
spoils taken in the war, as well as vignettes of the war ( J.W. 7.139–
147), with the triumphators, clothed as Jupiter Maximus Optimus,
at the end, followed by their freedpersons.32 Prominent in the Flavian
triumph were, of course, the sacred objects from the Jerusalem tem-
ple ( J.W. 7.148–151), along with seven hundred “choice” prisoners
of war, bound and in submission ( J.W. 7.118, 137–138). The con-
cluding phase of the triumph begins with the execution of the most
prominent of the prisoners of war, in this case the general Simon
bar Giora ( J.W. 7.153–155),33 followed by the sacrifices and the ded-
ication of the laurel crown to the Capitoline gods in the temple of
Jupiter Capitolinus ( J.W. 7.153, 156).34 Although the procession was
the most visible, public aspect of the triumph, historians of religion
point out that the triumph was at its heart concerned with the return
of the general or emperor to the temple of the Roman gods and
with acclaiming the epiphany of the god in the person of the tri-
umphator.35 In other words, the apotheosis of Titus depicted on the
ceiling of the arch had already been displayed—in his lifetime—on
the day of the triumph. The Arch celebrates his consecration.36 We
32
Versnel, Triumphus, 95.
33
See also Otto Michel, “Studien zu Josephus: Simon Bar Giora,” NTS 14 (1968):
407–408.
34
See Inez Scott Ryberg, Rites of the State Religion in Roman Art (MAAR 22; Rome:
American Academy, 1955), 141. Ryberg’s reading of the triumph attempts to find
the “essential elements” of the triumph’s significance; thus she identifies the sacrifices
and the dedication of the crown as, to paraphrase, what really matters, even though
other parts of the triumph may be more visible and memorable. I would eschew
such an approach and recognize instead that the performance of the triumph as a
whole does matter; the Capitoline sacrifices may indeed be the culmination of the
rites, but as such they participate with the elements within the patterns, structures,
and sequences of the ritual.
35
See Versnel, Triumphus, 83. Versnel’s consideration of the triumph includes an
examination of two opposing arguments, namely, whether the triumphator was seen
as Jupiter or as an ancient Roman king. He concludes that the vesture of the tri-
umphator with the ornatus Iovis, the corona Etrusca, and red lead, along with the accla-
mation triumphe, characterize the triumphator as the representative of Jupiter, but
inasmuch as some of these aspects, notably the ornatus Iovis, were originally associ-
ated with the king, the royal and the divine are merged in the triumphator (92).
36
Pfanner (in Der Titusbogen, 99) stresses that the arch’s iconographic program
not only honors a divinized emperor, but also “grounds and demonstrates his divin-
ity.” The arch can thus be described as a “consecration monument” (“Konsekrations-
monument ”). According to this reading the lower registers depict Titus’s earthly
triumph as the foundation of his divine position. The ceiling coffer with the apoth-
eosis of Titus is thus the heavenly consummation of this earthly triumph, supported
by the portrayal of the guarantees of this status: the personified figures of the virtus,
honos, and victoria of the Augusti. A reference in Cassiodorus (Variae 10.30.1) sug-
can recognize, in light of these monuments, that the triumph was

probably one of the most prominent features in the religio-political
landscape of Flavian Rome.37
The Epistle to the Hebrews in Light of the Flavian Triumph
The depiction of the Son, Jesus, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, is

expressed chiefly in the words of the psalms. Nevertheless, it makes
use of many of the motifs that we find in the Roman triumph, espe-
cially as it was celebrated by the Flavians. First, the principal themes
of Heb 1 and 2 are the return of the Son, Jesus, to the heavenly
realm, to his throne on the right hand of the Father, where he shares
in the reign of the Father. The Son is said to have a scepter (Heb
1:8) and to be “crowned” with glory and honor (Heb 2:7). Moreover,
all his enemies are “under [his] feet” (Heb 1:13) and all things are
subject to him (Heb 2:8, Ípotãssv, precisely the word used for
subjugated nations and prisoners). Through the use of Pss 2, 8, and
110, Hebrews brings to the forefront of its depiction of Jesus issues
of sonship, succession, and rule38—issues central to Flavian propaganda.
gests, moreover, the possibility that the arch was crowned with a pair of elephants
or, more likely, a quadriga drawn by elephants. Pfanner interprets this feature as
showing the heavenly triumph of Titus, carried into heaven on the quadriga, and
corresponding to the quadriga drawn by horses in his earthly triumph. See Pfanner,
Der Titusbogen, 3, 99.
37
The building of the Colosseum, close to the Forum and the Via Sacra, should
now also be counted among the ways in which the Flavian victory in the First
Jewish War was displayed in the city of Rome. A recently deciphered inscription
from the Colosseum declares that the emperor (first Vespasian, then corrected to
Titus, probably after Vespasian’s death) “ordered the new amphitheater to be built
from the spoils of war” (ex mani[i]bus), that is, the booty belonging to the victori-
ous general. The spoils in this case are most likely those from the First Jewish War,
including the riches of the Jerusalem temple. See Géza Alföldy, “Eine Bauinschrift
aus dem Colosseum,” ZPE 109 (1995): 195–226. An English summary and discus-
sion of Alföldy’s work may be found in Louis Feldman, “Financing the Colosseum,”
BAR 27 ( July/August 2001): 20–31, 60–61. Feldman mentions the tradition, not
attested in any known text, that Jewish prisoners-of-war actually built the Colosseum
(60). According to Josephus ( J.W. 6.420), ninety-seven thousand prisoners-of-war
were taken by the Roman army in the war; many of these would have been trans-
ported to Rome, and it is quite reasonable to suppose that they formed part of the
labor force for the extensive Flavian building program in Rome, including the erec-
tion of the Colosseum. We should also bear in mind that those ninety-seven thou-
sand prisoners-of-war may have included some “Christians” whom the Roman army
would be unlikely to distinguish from “Jews.”
38
On the importance to the triumph of holding the imperium, see Versnel, Triumphus,
185–194. On these themes in Hebrews, see Kenneth Schenck, “Keeping His
Moreover, this depiction includes elements of the triumph: the crown,

scepter, glory and honor,39 the visible subjugation of enemies, and
the triumphant journey of return to the temple (in this case the heav-
enly temple, as will become clear in Heb 9:11–12). Jesus is, in my
view, depicted in Hebrews as the triumphator in procession to the
temple. The text displays the apotheosis of Jesus rather than the
apotheosis of Titus, but both are portrayed as the son who right-
fully rules alongside his father in victory.
Second, in Hebrews the Son is also the ultimate high priest (Heb
4:14–5:10), offering himself. We may recall that in the Roman tri-
umph the triumphator is also the sacrificer, the priest of Jupiter
Capitolinus, who makes the concluding sacrifice of the triumph.40
Like Jesus in Hebrews, Titus was both son and priest, but Hebrews
fills this image with allusions to a story of Jesus’ death and his offering
of himself (Heb 5:7–10; 9:12, 26; 10:1–18; 13:12–13).41 I would sug-
gest here that Hebrews is critiquing the ideology of divine rule
expressed in the triumphal sacrifices, but doing so indirectly by means
Appointment: Creation and Enthronement in Hebrews,” JSNT 66 (1997): 91–117,

who argues that the focus of sonship in Hebrews is on the Son’s enthronement in
heaven, where he fulfills his divine appointment.
39
That the triumph and its associated monuments honor the emperors is with-
out doubt. A more specific connection may be suggested by the presence of the
figure of Honos (i.e., personified honor) accompanying Titus’s chariot on the inner
relief of the Arch of Titus. This figure, however, is also interpreted as the Genius
of the Roman people; see Ryberg, Rites of the State Religion, 147; Pfanner (in Der
Titusbogen, 69–70) discusses the identification closely, concluding that the figure is
more likely to be Honos. On the increased tendency to include allegorical and
personified figures in monumental art at the end of the first century ce, see Ryberg,
Rites of the State Religion, 97.
40
Ryberg (Rites of the State Religion, 141) argues that at the heart of the triumph
lies the repayment of vows made to Jupiter Capitolinus made prior to the general’s
departure on military campaign. Thus the concluding sacrifice, amid all the oppor-
tunities of display and glorification, is the performance of these vows, the return-
ing to the gods of what was promised. Hebrews emphasizes that Jesus offers himself
in accordance with God’s will; by placing the quotation of Ps 40:6–8 on the lips
of Jesus, the author of Hebrews at 10:7 portrays Jesus as saying, “‘See, God, I have
come to do your will, O God’ (in the scroll of the book it is written of me)” (nrsv).
Despite some differences, both the Roman triumph and Hebrews understand the
sacrifice as fulfilling the demands of the relationship with the divine.
41
On traditions of Jesus’ passion in Hebrews, see Martin Dibelius, “Gethsemane,”
in Dibelius, Botschaft and Geschichte, vol. 1: Zur Evangelienforschung (ed. Günther Bornkamm;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1953), 258–271; August Strobel, “Die Psalmengrundlage
der Gethsemane-Parallele. Hebr 5:7ff.,” ZNW 45 (1954): 256; Paul Andriessen,
“Agonisse de la mort dans l’Épître aux Hébreux,” NRTh 96 (1974): 2986–2991;
Helmut Koester, “‘Outside the Camp’: Hebrews 13.9–14,” HTR 55 (1962): 300; and
Aitken, Jesus’ Death, 130–164.
of typological reflection on the Yom Kippur rituals and the inade-

quacy of the high priests in the earthly sanctuary. Thus the typo-
logical argument about Levitical sacrifices becomes the rhetorical site
for resistance to the Roman imperial ideology.
Third, the monumental and ritual expressions of the Flavian tri-
umph all feature the spoils from the Jerusalem temple. These, as
much as the glory of the son, become the vehicle of the ideology.42
Josephus enumerates them as they were carried in procession: they
“consisted of a golden table, many talents in weight, and a lamp-
stand, likewise made of gold [he then depicts it in detail] . . . after
these, and last of all the spoils, was carried a copy of the Jewish
Law” ( J.W. 7.148–150 [Thackeray, LCL]). Hebrews 9:2–5 likewise
goes into great detail about the furnishings of the sanctuary. Hebrews
speaks of the “table,” the “bread of the presence,” the golden altar
of incense, the ark of the covenant “overlaid on all sides with gold,”
the golden urn holding the manna, Aaron’s rod, the tables of the
covenant, and the cherubim of glory overshadowing the mercy seat.
It is important to note that Hebrews does not utilize these items in
the typological exposition that follows; they are, as it were, extra-
neous to the immediate argument but may serve some larger rhetor-
ical purpose. Hebrews includes many more items than does Josephus
and may draw upon a traditional list,43 but all of the items on
Josephus’s list (table, lampstand, and copy of the law) are included;
the lampstand and the table of the shewbread depicted on the Arch
of Titus are mentioned both in Hebrews and by Josephus. There is,
moreover, similarity in diction, not least the emphasis on gold. In
view of other motifs of the triumph in Hebrews, I would suggest
that the list of articles from the sanctuary is specifically included in
Heb 9 because of the prominence of the Temple spoils from Jerusalem
in the display of Flavian ideology. Hebrews is thus rhetorically dis-
playing the items within its own triumphal statement.
Like the Flavians, Hebrews makes use of the “sanctuary” of Israel
to promote its message of true rule. Hebrews does so by turning to
42
Ryberg (Rites of the State Religion, 146), surveying the iconography associated
with triumphs, posits that the Arch of Titus is unusual in that it does not portray
the triumphator’s sacrificing, a scene that might be expected as the companion relief
to the triumphal procession. She suggests that the depiction of the golden objects
from the Jerusalem temple was chosen instead because of the great interest that
they attracted in Rome.
43
See the discussion in Attridge, Hebrews, 232–238.
the wilderness tabernacle (perhaps precisely because the Jerusalem

temple is no longer standing) and making it the earthly shadow of
the heavenly realities, pointing out its inadequacies, and showing its
abolition (Heb 10:9) through the self-offering of Jesus. We may thus
be more precise and say that Hebrews makes use of both the earthly
sanctuary and the heavenly sanctuary (the true one) to promote its
message of true and proper rule, just as the Flavians made use of
both the Jerusalem temple and the Capitoline temple to promote
theirs.44 Thus, one of the many strategies of Hebrews is to take the
elements of the imperial triumph and place them in the service of
its Christology. This Christology, following the opening chapters of
Hebrews, is ultimately one of divine rule, in which the enthroned
Son shares in the reign of the Father in the heavens, with his ene-
mies subject to him (Heb 1:13). In the Roman triumph, the triumph-
ator’s freedpersons followed him in procession; so too in Hebrews,
those whom Jesus has liberated from being held in slavery their
whole lives by “the fear of death” (Heb 2:15) are to follow after
Jesus in his victorious journey.45 Thus Jesus in Hebrews is both “the
one who leads the way” (Heb 2:10; 12:2, érxhgÒw)46 and “forerun-
ner” (Heb 6:20, prÒdromow) for the community of freedpersons, as
they too enter “into his rest” (Heb 4:1) and into the heavenly realm.
The inscribed audience of Hebrews, moreover, is receiving a “king-
dom that cannot be shaken” (Heb 12:28, basile¤a ésãleutow). The
explicit ethic for community is, in addition, one of solidarity with
those who are exposed to abuse, torture, persecution, imprisonment,
and dispossession of property. This ethic is first held up to the com-
munity as how they have indeed behaved in “those earlier days”:
exposed to abuse and persecution, becoming partners (koinvno¤) with
those so treated, and “having compassion (sunepayÆsate) on those
in prison” (Heb 10:32–34). They are, furthermore, explicitly exhorted
to maintain that same ethical solidarity in the present: “Remember
44
The transfer of the Jerusalem temple tax into the fiscus Judaicus, paid to the
Capitoline temple and gods, implies that, as a result of Roman victory, proper trib-
ute is due not to the god of the Jerusalem temple but instead to the Capitoline
gods.
45
Harold W. Attridge, “Liberating Death’s Captives: Reconsideration of an Early
Christian Myth,” in Gnosticism and the Early Christian World: In Honor of James M.
Robinson (ed. James E. Goehring et al.; Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge, 1990), 103–115.
46
On érxhgÒw, see Paul-Gerhard Müller, XRISTOS ARXHGOS: Der religionsgeschicht-
liche und theologische Hintergrund einer neutestamentlichen Christusprädikation (EHS.T 28; Bern:
Lang, 1973).
those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them;
those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being
tortured” (Heb 13:3).47 That is, the community that belongs to the
reign of Jesus and is receiving an unshakable kingdom is here exhorted
to be one with those in Rome (and presumably elsewhere) who are
the objects of imperial persecution.48 They are indeed to expose
themselves to the same risks.
I would suggest that this ethic of solidarity may in part be a
response to a perception of increased threat on the part of the
Christian and Jewish communities in Rome49—a perception that may
have been fueled by the public display of Judaea Capta, as well as
by the large number of Judean, Galilean, and Samaritan enslaved
prisoners-of-war in Rome following the war.50 It is difficult to know
47
I cite here the translation of the nrsv; the Greek emphasizes participation in
the suffering of others: mimnπskesye t«n desm¤vn …w sundedem°noi, t«n kakoux-
oum°nvn …w ka‹ aÈto‹ ˆntew §n s≈mati. “The language expresses the solidarity that
the whole community is to feel with those who are conspicuously persecuted”
(Attridge, Hebrews, 386).
48
In discussing Roman prisons and the practice of visiting prisoners, Craig A.
Wansink suggests (Chained in Christ: The Experience and Rhetoric of Paul’s Imprisonments
[ JSNTSup 130; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996], 80) that “association
with the imprisoned drew suspicion to oneself, and this often led to one’s death”;
see, for example, Dio Chrysostom Achilles (Or. 58) 3.7; 11.5–6; Philostratus Life of
Apollonius 4.46; Tacitus Annales 6.5.9.
49
A full consideration of the religious profile of Jewish and Christian groups in
Rome in the second half of the first century is not possible here. Given the indi-
cations of multiple synagogues and house-churches in Rome in this period, along
with the rich range of theological expression among Christians by the middle of
the second century, it is reasonable to assume a great deal of diversity of practice
and belief among Jews and Christians. We should not, moreover, assume sharp
divisions between Jews and Christians in Rome; rather, it is better to think of a
variety of ways in which people may have identified their religious and social
affiliations, including some groups who might be characterized, albeit imprecisely,
as Jewish-Christian. Simon R. F. Price has recently discussed the question of plu-
ralism and socio-religious identity in a lecture, “Religious Pluralism in the Roman
World: Pagans, Jews, and Christians,” at the Annual Meeting of the Society of
Biblical Literature, Nashville, Tennessee, November 2000. Price argues for the impor-
tance of recognizing clusters of religious markers in any given case, rather than
placing the evidence in impermeable categories of religious identity, e.g., Jewish or
Christian; Isis or Mithras. On the Jewish and Christian communities in Rome, see,
inter alia, George La Piana, Foreign Groups in Rome During the First Centuries of the Empire
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1927); Harry J. Leon, The Jews of
Ancient Rome (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1960); Lampe, Die Stadtrömischen
Christen; Karl P. Donfried and Peter Richardson, eds., Jews and Christians in First-
Century Rome (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998). Harnack’s discussion of Hebrews in
the context of multiple house-churches in Rome is also of interest in this regard;
see Harnack, “Probabilia über die Adresse und den Verfasser des Hebräerbriefs.”
50
See Smallwood, Jews under Roman Rule, 519.
how this display and this changing population affected Christians

and Jews in Rome; there is little evidence, if any. Hebrews, however,
may indeed contain some indications of the impact in its develop-
ment of both an ideology of true divine rule held by the Father and
Son and an ethic of solidarity with those who suffered under impe-
rial rule. That is, in responding to a perception of increased threat
and in resisting the public display of imperial rule expressed in the
triumph, Hebrews develops its own triumphal scheme and writes its
audience into the triumphal procession as the freedpersons of the
victorious ruler, enthroned in heaven. Hebrews does not do so directly
but rather through the typological and allegorical interpretation of
scripture, particularly the psalms of divine rule, the story of the
wilderness journey to the promised land, and the cultic prescriptions
for worship in the wilderness tabernacle. It thus employs scriptural
interpretation as a rhetorical site for developing a religio-political cri-
tique and the articulation of an ethic appropriate to that critique.
In conclusion, I would return to the question of assigning a date
for the composition of Hebrews. The argument presented here sug-
gests that Hebrews fits well into the period when the ideology of the
Flavian triumph flourished, not only in the ceremony of the triumph
itself, but in its continued promulgation in the city of Rome through
a series of monuments, that is, in the period between 71 and 81 ce.
A more precise date, namely, shortly after the death of Titus in 81
and the building of the Arch of Titus on the Via Sacra, celebrat-
ing his apotheosis, may be suggested by the emphasis in Hebrews
on the enthronement of the Son in heaven as the culmination of
his triumph. This argument depends on the strength of the correla-
tion between two distinct constructions of political theology, one pre-
served in the text of Hebrews, the other preserved in the rituals and
monuments associated with the Flavian triumph. As a response to
these articulations of the political theology of the Flavian emperors,
as they were experienced in the city of Rome, Hebrews creates its
own political theology out of the building materials available in its
immediate civic context. The scriptures of Israel and the traditions
available to this early Christian community then provide the means
to fill out this depiction of Jesus as triumphator and divine ruler
enthroned in heaven, but as a triumphator whose journey is marked
by suffering, struggle, and solidarity with those in need.
Concluding Pastoral Reflections
The persuasive strategies of the rhetoric of Hebrews aim at shaping

a community’s understanding of itself and its actions in light of an
understanding of Jesus’ triumphal journey back to the heavenly sanc-
tuary. As we have seen, the community of the baptized is to take
and keep their place in the triumphant procession, as the freedper-
sons of the victorious ruler, freed from the power of death (Heb
2:15). This is a stance of solidarity—in the first place, with Jesus,
and in the second place, with those in the community (and perhaps
outside) who are suffering abuse, torture, deprivation of property,
and imprisonment. Thus, the lofty Christology and cosmology of
Hebrews are directed not at a spiritualized existence but at an ethic
and a religious identity. It is, moreover, a specifically anti-individu-
alist ethic inasmuch as the community members are to maintain sol-
idarity with one another. This solidarity is perhaps most challenging
when it requires crossing over into the situation of another and when
that crossing over involves becoming a partner or participant in the
experience of suffering. This radical act of literal compassion, or
“suffering with,” pushes beyond the model of “ministry to” some-
one in need. It requires profound risk and the shifting of one’s own
identity (or the identity of the gathered community) so that enter-
ing into what a culture defines as shameful becomes a place of ulti-
mate honor, contrary to all earthly appearances. It is, in Hebrews’
terms, to live and act according to hope, that is, according to the
reality and identity made possible for the people of God through
Jesus’ suffering shame, abuse, and death.
Hebrews’ use of the theology of the Roman triumph is, moreover,
an act of resistance and an act of appropriating the religio-political
strategies of the oppressor for the community’s own ends. In pro-
claiming an alternative, “true” triumph and victor, it is likely that
Hebrews thus empowers those who are dispossessed. This is impor-
tant to bear in mind since often Christian triumphalism has been
adopted by those wielding political power in order to reinforce their
opposition to an enemy, as seen in the use of triumphal theology
over Jews or against Islam. Such a misuse of Jesus’ triumph neglects
the ethic of entering fully into the suffering of others, of bearing
the abuse that the other bears, and of becoming an outsider to the
familiar and comfortable. Hebrews asks us to consider instead what

proclamations of victory require our resistance in the present day.
Ellen Bradshaw Aitken, Th.D.

Associate Professor of Early Christian History and Literature
McGill University, Faculty of Religious Studies
Birks Building, 3520 University Street
Montreal, Quebec, H3A 2A7, Canada
[email protected]
HOW TO ENTERTAIN ANGELS:
ETHICS IN THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS*
Knut Backhaus
A religious question is either a life-and-death-question

or it is (empty) talk. This language game—you may
say—is played with life-and-death-questions only.
Just as the word “ouch!” has no meaning—except
as a cry of pain.
Ludwig Wittgenstein1
1. Under Discussion
1.1. “Self-Referential and Trivial”: Disproportion Between Theology and Ethics

The theological mountain is in labor—but what is born is a moral
mouse! It is this impression one may get reading the Epistle to the
Hebrews in order to piece together its instructions into an ethical
whole. On the one hand, there is widespread agreement that the
demanding concept of this lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw (Heb 13:22) aims
from the outset at a moral purpose. This view is strengthened by
the key passages Heb 4:14–16; 10:19–25; and 13:20–21, which have
the form of an exhortative appeal,2 and by the paraenetic tendency
* This paper was originally written in German: Knut Backhaus, “Auf Ehre und
Gewissen! Die Ethik des Hebräerbriefs,” in Ausharren in der Verheissung: Studien zum
Hebräerbrief (ed. Rainer Kampling; SBS; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, forth-
coming). As a rule, I quote Hebrews from the translation in Harold W. Attridge’s
commentary. I am very grateful to my Munich colleague Professor Alexander J. M.
Wedderburn for having critically checked my English or, as he perhaps would pre-
fer to say, my Scottish.
1
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Denkbewegungen: Tagebücher 1930–1932, 1936–1937 (part 1,
Normalisierte Fassung; ed. Ilse Somavilla; Innsbruck: Haymon, 1997), n. 203.
2
The propositio Heb 4:14–16 concludes the first major section and leads up to
the argumentatio (Heb 4:14[5:1]–10:18); Heb 10:19–25 opens the third major sec-
tion, which is directly orientated towards exhortation. Thus both of these passages
frame the christological central section. In the form of a concluding prayer, Heb
13:20–21 recapitulates the paraenesis of Hebrews. For structural and rhetorical
analysis of Hebrews, see Knut Backhaus, Der Neue Bund und das Werden der Kirche:
150 knut backhaus
of the particular pericopes3 as well as of the overall structure.4 It

seems clear that the author tries to master a serious crisis of his
addressees by providing an elaborate Christology that may give guid-
ance and motivation for a Christian ethos.
There is, however, some embarrassment as far as the particular
form of such an ethos developed in Hebrews is concerned. The
exhortations of the first and second major sections (Heb 1:1–4:13;
4:14–10:18) mostly urge the community5 in a self-referential manner
to adopt the homologia worked out in the epistle.6 Nevertheless, readers
today are far from being impressed by the specific instructions even-
tually offered in the last major section, especially in Heb 13: Let us
do good works (Heb 10:24)! Attend Sunday service (Heb 10:25)! Let
the marital bed be undefiled (Heb 13:4)! Respect the church author-
ities (Heb 13:7, 17)! Keep to orthodox doctrine (Heb 13:9)!
To arrive at exhortations of this kind, it may seem, the intellec-
tual level of the Epistle of Jude would suffice. Further, when ethics
is seen as not only the desired result but the starting-point of the
christological reflection,7 it is hard to avoid the impression that
Hebrews imposes on the massive base of doctrinal exposition the
statue of an ethical dwarf in heroic bearing.8
Die Diatheke-Deutung des Hebräerbriefs im Rahmen der frühchristlichen Theologiegeschichte (NTAbh

29; Münster: Aschendorff, 1996), 47–64.
3
On the interrelationship between expository and exhortatory sections, see Hans-
Friedrich Weiss, Der Brief an die Hebräer (KEK 13; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1991), 42–51; and recently George H. Guthrie, The Structure of Hebrews:
A Text-Linguistic Analysis (NovTSup 73; Leiden: Brill, 1994), esp. 112–147.
4
Analogous to the peroratio of deliberative rhetoric, the last major section, in par-
ticular the final chapter, Heb 13, responds directly to the pragmatic situation of the
addressees, thereby differing distinctively from the first major sections.
5
In my understanding the “community” of Hebrews is a relatively autonomous
group with its own educational status within urban Roman Christianity; for dis-
cussion, see Weiss, Hebräer, 75; Knut Backhaus, “Der Hebräerbrief und die Paulus-
Schule,” BZ 37 (1993): 183–208, esp. 196–204.
6
On ımolog¤a in Hebrews, see Heinrich Zimmermann, Das Bekenntnis der Hoffnung:
Tradition und Redaktion im Hebräerbrief (BBB 47; Cologne: Hanstein, 1977), 44–52;
Franz Laub, Bekenntnis und Auslegung: Die paränetische Funktion der Christologie im Hebräerbrief
(BU 15; Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1980), esp. 9–50.
7
So Floyd V. Filson, “Yesterday”: A Study of Hebrews in the Light of Chapter 13 (SBT
4; London: SCM, 1967), 25–26, 82; Jukka Thurén, Das Lobopfer der Hebräer: Studien
zum Aufbau und Anliegen von Hebräerbrief 13 (Åbo: Akademi, 1973), 246–247; Barnabas
Lindars, The Theology of the Letter to the Hebrews (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991), 101.
8
See William Wrede, Das literarische Rätsel des Hebräerbriefs (FRLANT 8; Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1906), 16–20; Richard Perdelwitz, “Das literarische
Problem des Hebräerbriefs,” ZNW 11 (1910): 59–78 and 105–123, here 61.
how to entertain angels 151
Thus it is not difficult to understand that, on the other hand, the

excess weight of theory arouses doubts about the author’s paraclet-
ical purpose: “Pastoral care, to be sure, is the only business he does
not manage.”9 The epistle is said to be more interested in specula-
tion than in ethics and to develop a general conception that obvi-
ously exceeds the needs of any paraenetical purpose.10 Several scholars
even challenge the integrity of the awkward ch. 13 (esp. vv. 22–25),
which they suppose to have been appended in order to suggest
Pauline authorship to the readers.11
1.2. “Separationist and Esoteric”: Disproportion Between Universal Claim

and Group Ethic
It rarely happens that the exhortation of Hebrews is made the sub-
ject of special studies, except as a case of theological criticism. It
was Rudolf Bultmann’s skeptical judgment that has set the standard:
poorly immunized against legalism, the ethics of Hebrews abandons
the indicative foundation of the moral imperative. The baptized are
transposed into the heavenly realms on the basis of the sanctification
performed by Christ, with no explanation of the desecularization
they have to acquire under their own steam (cf. Heb 13:13–14). In
the epistle’s expository effort Bultmann cannot help seeing a typo-
logical delight in speculation, and he does not expect the author,
who may enjoy his interpretation, to reveal its use to us.12
As a characteristic example of the prevalent tendency to at-
tach importance to the ethical program of Hebrews chiefly for the
9
Hans-Martin Schenke, “Erwägungen zum Rätsel des Hebräerbriefes,” in Neues
Testament und christliche Existenz: Festschrift für Herbert Braun zum 70. Geburtstag am 4.
Mai 1973 (ed. Hans Dieter Betz and Luise Schottroff; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck,
1973), 421–437, here 422; see also Hans-Martin Schenke and Karl Martin Fischer,
Einleitung in die Schriften des Neuen Testaments (2 vols.; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus),
1978/1979, 2:259–263.
10
Philipp Vielhauer, Geschichte der urchristlichen Literatur (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1981),
243; Helmut Feld, Der Hebräerbrief (EdF 228; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buch-
gesellschaft, 1985), 61–62.
11
For discussion, see Thurén, Lobopfer der Hebräer, 49–55; Harold W. Attridge,
The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 384–385; Erich
Grässer, An die Hebräer (3 vols.; EKKNT 17; Zürich: Benziger and Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997), 3:343–345; Backhaus, “Paulus-Schule,” 192–196;
and A. J. M. Wedderburn, “The ‘Letter’ to the Hebrews and Its Thirteenth Chapter,”
NTS 50 (2004): 390–405.
12
Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (ed. Otto Merk; 9th ed.; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 113–114, 517–519.
152 knut backhaus
sake of Sachkritik,13 let me outline Wolfgang Schenk’s extensive essay

(1985).14
The semiotic analysis starts from the exhortation Heb 13:16; this choice
is justified by both the contextual function of the segment and its rep-
resentative meaning. With sound arguments Schenk qualifies the first
noun in the prohibition Heb 13:16a, t∞w d¢ eÈpoi˝aw ka‹ koinvn¤aw mØ
§pilanyãnesye, as “charity,” in the sense of an institutionalized pro-
ject of social aid (73–74), and the second one as an active demon-
stration of fraternal fellowship (74–75). In conjunction with its parallel
in Heb 13:1–2a, this instruction proves to be part of a stabilizing
paraenetical process that aims at cohesion within the community as
well as solidarity between different Christian communities (cf. Heb
10:33–34; 11:36). Thus, in comparison with Paul (cf. Gal 6:10), inclu-
sive love of neighbor is reduced to love of brethren reserved for
Christian associates. Schenk concludes that, in contrast to the com-
munities of the apostolic age, “the mystic conventicle addressed in
Hebrews” regards itself as a “new cultic club” in an esoteric way
(78).15
The following causal clause, toiaÊtaiw går yus¤aiw eÈareste›tai ı
yeÒw, both in its passive construction and in placing “God” at the end,
draws the readers’ attention to human conduct before God, so that
Schenk offers us the translation: “For it is God who finds satisfaction
in such ‘sacrifices.’” It is at this point that Schenk feels uneasy with
the Christian spirit of this notion of God being deeply influenced by
the tremendum of the “Old Testament-numinous” way of thinking, which
he also finds in the “terrors of the New Covenant” developed in the
whole epistle (cf. 85–87) and which in his opinion reduces the new-
ness of the universalistic approach which takes Easter as its starting-
point. This theological shortcoming leads to a separationist ethical
approach “that is no longer capable of considering the Christian com-
munity as vanguard of God’s new world” (89). Under the influence
13
So emphatically Jack T. Sanders, Ethics in the New Testament: Change and Development
(Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975), 106–110; Siegfried Schulz, Neutestamentliche Ethik (Zürich:
Theologischer Verlag, 1987), 632–640; more cautiously Wolfgang Schrage, Ethik des
Neuen Testaments (2d ed.; GNT 4; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989),
325–329.
14
Wolfgang Schenk, “Die Paränese Hebr 13,16 im Kontext des Hebräerbriefes:
Eine Fallstudie semiotisch-orientierter Textinterpretation und Sachkritik,” ST 39
(1985): 73–106.
15
For similar views, see Richard Völkl, Christ und Welt nach dem Neuen Testament
(Würzburg: Echter, 1961), 358–359; Schulz, Neutestamentliche Ethik, 638–640; Schrage,
Ethik des Neuen Testaments, 329.
of its ethics of gratitude inspired by Stoic philosophy (cf. 12:28) the

epistle fails to maintain a sense of mission ad extra. It is an ideology
limited to the present time and obedience towards the authorities that
replaces both hope as “passion for what is possible” and prophetic
searching for a community of the risen Lord (90–92). Thus the com-
munity of the readers settles down contemplating its existence as a
family of priestly mystics gathered round the high priest, and secur-
ing its ethics by means of sacrificial imagery. By demanding a per-
manent attitude of pros°rxesyai Hebrews aspires to “some vision of
‘sober-minded ecstasy’ that lets the readers fathom the mystery elab-
orated by itself ” (93; cf. 92–97). In Schenk’s view the crucial point,
then, of the “separationist ecclesiology and ethics” of Hebrews is the
“fear of not being on the right side” (89).
There is little reason to object to this understanding as far as the

descriptive analysis of the text is concerned. What I do not hold to
be legitimate, however, is that Schenk, following a general trend,
stops trying to understand the text at this point and switches over
immediately to Sachkritik. He concludes that the segment Heb 13:16
as well as the ethical passages of Hebrews in general, marked by
esoteric group consciousness, at best may serve as an instructive
example to illustrate the weight and profile of the theology of the
Apostle Paul (cf. Gal 6:6–10; Rom 12) (97–98).
1.3. The Problems at Issue

Let us summarize the objections raised against the ethical program
of Hebrews in the form of questions that do not suggest normative
theological claims but historical investigation of the social setting and
theological shape of our epistle:
(1) What is the relationship between the ethical exhortations of
Hebrews and its general theological conception? In this regard both
the self-referential character (esp. Heb 1–12) and the pragmatic triv-
iality (esp. Heb 13) of the epistle are subjects of critical discussion.
(2) Why are the ethical exhortations of Hebrews restricted to the
boundaries of the Christian community? In this regard we have to
pay attention to the impression of a separationist and esoteric theology.
We will do justice to the exegetical points at issue if we not only
answer the historical questions but also explain in what way they
are intimately related to each other. In short: What, from an ethi-
cal point of view, does it mean within the context of a Christian
154 knut backhaus
community when the addressees hold the belief that Jesus has become
far superior to the angels, that he has entered with his own blood
through the veil into the sanctuary, that he intercedes on behalf of
his people as the high priest according to the order of Melchizedek?
What we are going to ask, therefore, is the only sachkritische question
which in the field of ethics really gets at the point at issue: “Don’t
tell me what you believe in, tell me what changes because you believe
in it!” (as Bertolt Brecht would have asked us). To summarize, in
what way does the auctor ad Hebraeos, beyond doubt a virtuoso of faith,
change the ethos of his addressees?
2. Interpretation
2.1. The Semantic Features

First of all we have to examine the semantic features of Hebrews as
far as they are part of the paraenesis,16 taking the form of an impe-
rative, cohortative, or a functional equivalent (participial or de›-
construction, etc.) or directly supporting the paraenesis.
(a) The first strand, which marks the paraenetical train of thought,
consists of cognitive instructions providing the (re-)organization of reli-
gious knowledge. In this regard the impression of the self-referential
character of Hebrews is confirmed, for it is the epistle itself that fur-
nishes the readers with the organizing principles by working out the
Christian homologia. These paraenetical clauses are often connected
with the theological passages by means of causal conjunctions.
There is a significantly frequent use of instructions concerning ori-
entation by virtue of acquired religious knowledge,17 conscious acquire-
ment of such knowledge,18 stability defined by confession,19 and mutual
16
By the text type “paraenesis,” I understand a communicative act, for the pur-
pose for providing counsel, that habitualizes and motivates individual or commu-
nitarian practice on the basis of the evidence of an instruction and within the
framework of an authoritative relationship; for details, see Wiard Popkes, Paränese
und Neues Testament (SBS 168; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1996), 13–52.
17
“Therefore (diå toËto), it is necessary for us to pay attention (pros°xein) all
the more to what has been heard” (Heb 2:1); see Heb 12:25; 13:7.
18
“Wherefore (˜yen), holy brethren, partakers of a heavenly calling, consider
(katanoÆsate) the apostle and high priest of our confession (ımolog¤a), Jesus” (Heb
3:1); see Heb 7:4; 12:2–3.
19
“Let us hold fast to the confession (ımolog¤a) of hope unwavering” (Heb 10:23);
see Heb 3:6, 14; 4:14; 6:4–6, 18–19; 10:28–29, 32.
control of loyal practice of faith.20 The standard “possessive” expres-

sion ¶xomen has a similar purpose, though it is not directly in the
form of an exhortative appeal. It serves to affirm the knowledge of
the religious perspective and way of life: “We have (viz. in the form
of the homologia we have acquired) a high priest (Heb 4:14–15; 8:1;
cf. 10:21), strong encouragement (Heb 6:18), an anchor for the soul
(Heb 6:19), boldness for entrance into the sanctuary (Heb 10:19), a
greater and abiding possession (cf. Heb 10:34), a great reward (cf.
Heb 10:35), a cloud of witnesses (Heb 12:1), an altar (Heb 13:10).”
It is in this context, i.e., the organization of the knowledge and
practice of faith, that the exempla, which are characteristic of the eth-
ical concept of Hebrews, ought to be seen. Thus the widespread
opinion that Hebrews reveals a clearly discernible ethics of imitation
should be put more precisely in so far as the author introduces mod-
els to follow only in order to illustrate the right attitude of faith.
The epistle does not deal with examples of virtues or acts of moral-
ity nor does it appeal to its readers to imitate some special realiza-
tion of faith. What it calls for is positive or negative exempla of a
proper endurance in the faith that one has once espoused or an
endurance that is required, in order to hold out with the necessary
patience and hope to that which is promised imperturbable by rival
interpretations of the world; in short, exempla of stabilitas fidei.
The absolute paradigm is Jesus, who has shared in the temptations of
his people (Heb 2:18; 4:15), who, with prayer, learned obedience
through what he suffered (Heb 5:7–9), and who, after having endured
cross, shame, and hostility “for the sake of the joy which lay before
him” (cf. Heb 12:1–3), stands before “us,” who are running with
patience “the race which lies before us,” as t∞w p¤stevw érxhgÚw ka‹
teleivtÆw.21 Further, the “cloud of witnesses” (Heb 11:1–40) serves as
20
“Let us have consideration (katano«men) for one another with an aim of pro-
voking love and good works” (Heb 10:24); see Heb 3:12–13; 10:25; 12:15.
21
See Anselm Schulz, Nachfolgen und Nachahmen: Studien über das Verhältnis der neu-
testamentlichen Jüngerschaft zur urchristlichen Vorbildethik (SANT 6; Munich: Kösel, 1962),
293–298; Graham Hughes, Hebrews and Hermeneutics: The Epistle to the Hebrews as a
New Testament Example of Biblical Interpretation (SNTSMS 36; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1979), 75–100; Franz Laub, “‘Schaut auf Jesus’ (Hebr 3,1): Die
Bedeutung des irdischen Jesus für den Glauben nach dem Hebräerbrief,” in Vom
Urchristentum zu Jesus: Festschrift für Joachim Gnilka (ed. Hubert Frankemölle and Karl
Kertelge; Freiburg i. Br.: Herder, 1989), 417–432; Thomas Söding, “Zuversicht und
Geduld im Schauen auf Jesus: Zum Glaubensbegriff des Hebräerbriefes,” ZNW 82
(1991): 214–241, esp. 228–234; David A. deSilva, Despising Shame: Honor Discourse
and Community Maintenance in the Epistle to the Hebrews (SBLDS 152; Atlanta: Scholars
Press, 1995), 165–178.
156 knut backhaus
a paradigmatic catalog to shape the pilgrimage of the faithful Christian

people towards the promised land. Worthy of imitation, moreover, is
the consistency of faith shown by the departed leaders of the com-
munity (Heb 13:7). The author wants his addressees to be “imitators
(mimhta¤) of those who through faith and perseverance inherited the
promises.” Besides Esau (cf. Heb 12:15–17), it is the wandering gen-
eration of the desert that serves as a negative example of deafness,
apathy, and apostasy (cf. Heb 3:7–4:11).
These instructions serve to transform the readers’ perspective (per-
manently).22 It is the christological homologia that serves as the orga-
nizing center of the transformed view: the heavenly high priest is,
so to speak, the sun in the interpretative universe arranging all the
particular aspects of religious knowledge in its ethical orbits so that
the plausibilities of the dominant culture, into which the addressees
are in danger of relapsing,23 lose their attraction.
(b) The second strand, which is concentrated in particular in the

main paraenetical passages, links instructions to dynamic verbs. This
semantic field overlaps with the cognitive one in so far as it describes
an inward movement, that is to say, an orientation, aimed at the
system of Christian knowledge developed in Hebrews.24
In this respect the compounds pros°rxesyai (Heb 4:16; 10:22;
11:6; cf. 7:19, 25) and efis°rxesyai (Heb 4:1, 3, 11; cf. 6:20; 10:19)
are of decisive relevance. Approaching or entering are depicted as
leading to different destinations: the throne of grace, eternal Sabbath
rest, the heavenly sanctuary. What connects these images is the motif
of the accessibility of God’s presence in the sacred space of the
crucified Lord.25 “Approaching” as well as “entering,” therefore,
22
In some passages Hebrews indicates the circumstances when the new per-
spective was first acquired, e.g., as far as the history of mission (Heb 2:3–4), cate-
chetical aspects (Heb 5:11–6:2), or the biography of the community (Heb 10:32–34)
are concerned.
23
In my view, the paraenetical instructions in their convergence show clearly
that the widely discussed “relapse” is related not to the ancestral religion of former
Jews but to the social home reality of the (pagan) Roman milieu; for discussion,
see Backhaus, Der Neue Bund, 264–282.
24
Remarkably, the adjective used to indicate the attitude of the readers, nvyrÒw,
is related to both the cognitive process of hearing (Heb 5:11) and the whole move-
ment of faithful existence (Heb 6:12).
25
On the soteriological thrust of these dynamics, see Laub, Bekenntnis und Auslegung,
265–272; John M. Scholer, Proleptic Priests: Priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrews
describe the Christian experience of reality, in so far as the usual

way of seeing the world is transcended in the direction of God.
The readers are stimulated to a consistent practice of faith not
only by imagery from the sphere of athletics and battle (Heb 12:1,
4, 12–14)26 but also with reference to the semantic fields of ways
and wandering (cf. Heb 2:1; 3:7–4:11; 10:20; 11:8–10, 13–16, 27;
12:18–24; 13:13–14) concentrated in the idea of the socially home-
less pilgrim people of God. The Christians form God’s “cultic com-
munity on the move,”27 whose whole existence may be summarized
in the statements of the goal in Heb 9:14 and Heb 12:28: latreÊein,
that is, “to worship amid the everyday world.”28
The purpose of these dynamic instructions is once more the
redefinition of competing realities. The addressees are led into their
own cognitive world, whose ways are unequivocally defined by the
homologia. This eisodos into the sacred space (Heb 10:19) corresponds
to the exodus from the space of the urban dominant culture (Heb
13:13; cf. 11:8, 27, 29).29
( JSNTSup 49; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 91–149 (pros°rxesyai),

150–184 (efis°rxesyai); Hermut Löhr, Umkehr und Sünde im Hebräerbrief (BZNW 73;
Berlin: de Gruyter, 1994), 250–285; Wilhelm Thüsing, “‘Lasst uns hinzutreten . . .’
(Hebr 10,22): Zur Frage nach dem Sinn der Kulttheologie im Hebräerbrief,” in
idem, Studien zur neutestamentlichen Theologie (WUNT 82; ed. Thomas Söding; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 1995), 184–200; Knut Backhaus, “Per Christum in Deum: Zur
theozentrischen Funktion der Christologie im Hebräerbrief,” in Der lebendige Gott:
Studien zur Theologie des Neuen Testaments: Festschrift für Wilhelm Thüsing zum 75. Geburtstag
(ed. Thomas Söding; NTAbh 31; Münster: Aschendorff, 1996), 258–284.
26
See David A. deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on the
Epistle “to the Hebrews” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 361–364.
27
William G. Johnsson, “The Pilgrimage Motif in the Book of Hebrews,” JBL
97 (1978): 239–251, here 249.
28
See Ernst Käsemann, Das wandernde Gottesvolk: Eine Untersuchung zum Hebräerbrief
(4th ed.; FRLANT 55; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1961); Johnsson, “Pil-
grimage Motif ”; Erich Grässer, “Das wandernde Gottesvolk: Zum Basismotiv des
Hebräerbriefes,” in idem, Aufbruch und Verheissung: Gesammelte Aufsätze zum Hebräerbrief
(ed. Martin Evang and Otto Merk; BZNW 65; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992), 231–250;
Markus Bockmuehl, “The Church in Hebrews,” in A Vision for the Church: Studies in
Early Christian Ecclesiology in Honor of J. P. M. Sweet (ed. Markus Bockmuehl and
Michael B. Thompson; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997), 133–151, esp. 140–143;
deSilva, Perseverance, 70–71, 394–395; Iutisone Salevao, Legitimation in the Letter to the
Hebrews: The Construction and Maintenance of a Symbolic Universe ( JSNTSup 219; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 296–305.
29
See Harold W. Attridge, “Paraenesis in a Homily (lÒgow paraklÆsevw): The
Possible Location of, and Socialization in, the ‘Epistle to the Hebrews,’” Semeia 50
(1990): 211–226, here 221–223.
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So again an inward counter-world is established or worked out,

in which the readers may take up—in Martin Heidegger’s sense—
“ethos,” that is, “an abode, a dwelling-place. The noun designates
the open space in which one lives.”30 This sort of living, to be sure,
must be put into effect. The problem Hebrews primarily deals with
is not that the addressees do not know what they should do but that
they do not do what they should know.31 Cognition, therefore, must
gain an active dimension, that is to say, an aspect of movement.
(c) Proceeding now from the exhortations to the imagery that struc-
tures the epistle we at once notice the affinity: the imagery is pri-
marily shaped in cultic or sociomorphic style. In its soteriological
center the epistle outlines, with a delight in typological details, the
symbolic counter-world of the heavenly sanctuary. Thereby it pur-
sues the intention to show to God’s pilgrim people the “new and
living way” from the “pro-fanum” through the veil into God’s most
holy presence, from the transitory sphere to the eternal one, from
the earthly world of shadows to the divine light (cf. Heb 8:1–10:25;
esp. Heb 9:6–14; 10:19–22).32
The images for salvation are often taken from the political or
social order so that the contrast between the homeland of faith and
the earthly realities may come to light. The goal of the Christians
is the promised land (cf. Heb 11:9), the polis with foundations whose
maker and fashioner is God (Heb 11:10), the better, that is, heav-
enly fatherland (Heb 11:14, 16), the city of the living God, the heav-
enly Jerusalem, the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in
heaven (Heb 12:22–23),33 the unshakable kingdom (Heb 12:28), the
city which remains and which is to come (cf. Heb 13:14).
30
Martin Heidegger, “Brief über den Humanismus,” in idem, Wegmarken (vol. 9;
Frankfurt a. M.: Vittorio Klostermann, 1976), 313–364, here 354, 354–357.
31
See Frank J. Matera, “Moral Exhortation: The Relation between Moral
Exhortation and Doctrinal Exposition in the Letter to the Hebrews,” TJT 10 (1994):
169–182, here 170–171; on lethargy as the ethical crux of Hebrews, see Thomas
E. Schmidt, “Moral Lethargy and the Epistle to the Hebrews,” WTJ 54 (1992):
167–173.
32
On the “theology of access,” see Marie E. Isaacs, Sacred Space: An Approach to
the Theology of the Epistle to the Hebrews ( JSNTSup 73; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic
Press, 1992).
33
On the political background of this image, see Attridge, Hebrews, 375; Weiss,
Hebräer, 678–680; deSilva, Perseverance, 466–467.
Thus, it is the dynamism of change in the readers’ view and

(inward) position that characterizes the overall argumentation of
Hebrews. The experience of this earthbound life and the participa-
tion in heavenly reality confront one another. While worldly expe-
rience is fading away, the pilgrim’s path is illuminated by the kindly
light of heaven. Hebrews, to be sure, does not call upon its readers
to withdraw from the world but it pleads for superiority to the world.34
When God’s reality alone is absolute, then the faithful wandering
through this life will pass through things of relative importance only.
Christians will not abandon this world but they will learn to deal
with it with greater detachment.35
2.2. The Customary Paraenesis
2.2.1. Group-Ethical Orientation

Throughout our exploration of the semantic features of the parae-
nesis of Hebrews it became evident that the impression of a certain
self-referential character of the epistle’s ethics is justified: Hebrews
does not deal with general love of one’s neighbor or enemy nor the
church’s world mission. Rather, it aims at introducing its readers
deeper into the “mystery” which it itself has unfolded. Nevertheless,
in the same way it became evident, too, that this “mystery” serves
as the (intended) referential system providing the standards for the
addressees’ ethical orientation in general. The customary paraenesis36
is meant to safeguard the basic social conditions of this referential
system.
In my view, the approach of social history will do more justice
to the ethics of Hebrews than criticism based on theological aes-
thetics. Before we examine whether the admonitions of Hebrews may
spread out in all directions with a seemingly Pauline impetus, so that
the community finds itself to be the “vanguard of God’s new world,”
34
See the chapter on Hebrews in Völkl, Christ und Welt, 350–360: “Das Ethos
der Wanderer.”
35
For more detail, see Knut Backhaus, “Das Land der Verheissung: Die Heimat
der Glaubenden im Hebräerbrief,” NTS 47 (2001): 171–188.
36
The adjective “customary” does not indicate any contrast with “topical” but
emphasizes the conventional character of the exhortations. It is paraenetical con-
vention that serves social habitualization and so it is of topical relevance to Christian
communities in the making. For discussion, see Weiss, Hebräer, 72–74.
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let us take a closer look at how such a vanguard might in concrete

terms be formed.
In a sense, it is not unfair to suggest that Hebrews is driven by
“fear of not being on the right side,” for in the inevitable decision
between the formative church and the dominant culture threatening
its self-definition, the epistle urges its readers to opt for the right side
and to realize it by means of social organization.37 The crucial ques-
tion, then, is whether the exhortations fulfill their purpose to con-
struct and secure the symbolic counter-world that may direct and
strengthen the cognitive self-affirmation of Christians confronted with
the claims of pagan society. From this point of view, triviality does
not seem to be a surprising feature of ethical instruction. After all,
the sense of a proposition in religious and ethical speech is gained
from the concrete, that is, socially embedded, form of life of the one
who speaks.
Viewed from the perspective of individual ethics, in the judgment
of many interpreters the exhortations of Heb 13 are lacking any rec-
ognizable plan. If we, however, take into consideration their group-
ethical function, a clear purpose is revealed. This purpose is not
inspired by pleasure in literary composition, to be sure, but by the
deliberate intention to establish Christian community within the social
world of the first century.
The transitus Heb 12:28–29 indicates the subject of the following
chapter. In Heb 13, vv. 1–5a then deal with the social stabilization
of the community, while vv. 7–17, framed by the instruction on the
“authority of the leaders,” primarily regulate the organization of
knowledge. The “inserted” and at-first-sight incoherent passage Heb
13:5b–6 defines Christian “courage” as the decision for the “right
side.” It is exactly this idea which is worked out in the cohortative
vv. 13–14, in which the ethics of Hebrews is summarized from a
theocentric point of view. Throughout twelve chapters the readers,
repeatedly called to change their usual perspective, have been pre-
pared for such a theocentric definition of Christian ethos. Now they
learn in the closing paraenesis which everyday factors may work to
37
On the social function of “line drawing” between right and wrong sides, see
Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (3d ed.;
Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 27–30.
ground and to secure the normative referential system of a Christian

community model.
2.2.2. Social Stabilization (Heb 10:24–25a; 13:1–6)

(a) Heb 10:24–25a: There is only one explicit admonition prior to
ch. 13, and it is programmatically set into the prelude of the peroratio:
Let us have consideration for one another (katano«men éllÆlouw) with
an aim of provoking love and good works (efiw parojusmÚn égãphw ka‹
kal«n ¶rgvn), not forsaking our own assembly (§pisunagvgÆ), as is the
custom of some, but encouraging (one another) (parakaloËntew). (Heb
10:24–25a)
This exhortation aims at the community’s cohesion: first, by means
of mutual control (“take consideration for one another”), promoting
(“provoking”) a practice of agape that performs “services for the saints,”
and motivation of “good works” that may build up the community
(cf. Heb 6:10);38 secondly, by means of regular attendance at the
community’s worship, which is the only way of consolidating the
cognitive system of a religious minority in the long run;39 and thirdly,
by means of the triad “consolation, support, admonition,” which
Hebrews lets us hear in the verb parakal°v (cf. Heb 3:13; 13:19,
22). In short, the author pleads for cohesion by means of assem-
bling, practical building up of an in-group, and affirmation of a cor-
responding self-awareness. The Christian community (re-)establishes
itself as a social reality.
What these verses present in nuce is explicated in Heb 13. Although
it may seem as if the instructions do not follow a clear direction
they are arranged most purposefully in three ways: they deal with
modes of social obligation within the community; the several ways
of Christian practice they postulate seem to be threatened; and they
complement each other so that the coherent shape of a socially
efficient minority behavior is visible.
38
The noun égãph is used in Hebrews only at 10:24 and 6:10, and in both
cases the noun ¶rgon refers to human action with a positive connotation.
39
On the interdependence between loyal attendance at worship and stabilitas fidei,
see Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3:26–30.
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(b) Heb 13:1: “Let brotherly love (filadelf¤a) remain.” The open-
ing verse presents the cantus firmus of the epistle’s paraenetical cata-
log. The community regards itself as a fraternal association forming
“fictive kinship.”40 Hence it provides the emotionally anchored soli-
darity, the conformity of interests, and those particular ethical rights
and duties of mutual support which were obligatory family values in
the Mediterranean society of the first century.41 This self-definition,
to be sure, is common Christian heritage, but by reflecting on the
motif of the syngeneia of the faithful with their high priest (cf. Heb
2:10–18) Hebrews gives christological substantiation to it.
By “converting” to the “right side,” Lucian of Samosata (ca.
120–180 ce) states, Christians become “brethren.” How such a famil-
ial ethos marked the community’s everyday life, Lucian satirically
illustrates by telling the story of the charlatan Peregrinus, who has
climbed the ladder fast among Christians and is eventually put in
prison by the public authorities. Several exhortations of Heb 13, and
most of all the reversal of significant values, are reflected and elu-
cidated in this pagan observation of early Christian spoudÆ (Peregr.
12–13; cf. Heb 4:11; 6:11).
From the very break of day aged widows and orphan children could
be seen waiting near the prison, while their officials even slept inside
with him after bribing the guards. Then multifarious meals were brought
in, and sacred books of theirs were read, and excellent Peregrinus—
for he still went by this name—was called by them “the new Socrates.”
Indeed, people came even from the cities in Asia, sent by the Christians
at their common expense, to succor and defend and encourage him
(paramuyhsÒmenoi). They show incredible speed whenever such public
action is taken; in short, they lavish it all. So it was then in the case
of Peregrinus; much money came to him from them by reason of his
imprisonment, and he procured not a little revenue from it. The poor
wretches have convinced themselves, first and foremost, that they are
going to be immortal and live for all time, in consequence of which
they despise death (katafronoËsin; cf. Heb 12:2) and even willingly
give themselves up to the authorities, most of them. Furthermore, their
40
See deSilva, Perseverance, 485–486; on the biblical background, Geoffrey W.
Grogan, “The Old Testament Concept of Solidarity in Hebrews,” TynBul 49 (1998):
159–173.
41
On the ideal and the reality of family in the Roman empire of the first cen-
tury, see Keith R. Bradley, Discovering the Roman Family: Studies in Roman Social History
(New York: Oxford University Press, 1991); Halvor Moxnes, ed., Constructing Early
Christian Families: Family as Social Reality and Metaphor (London: Routledge, 1997);
Malina, New Testament World, 134–160.
first lawgiver persuaded them that they are all brothers of one another
after they have transgressed once for all by denying the Greek gods
and by worshipping that crucified sophist himself and living accord-
ing to his laws (katå toÁw §ke¤nou nÒmouw bi«sin). Therefore they despise
(katafronoËsin) all things indiscriminately and consider them common
property, receiving such doctrines traditionally without any definite evi-
dence. So if any charlatan and trickster, able to profit by occasions,
comes among them, he quickly acquires sudden wealth by imposing
upon simple folk. (Harmon, LCL, with slight variations)
(c) Heb 13:2: “Do not forget hospitality, for through this some have
inadvertently entertained angels.” From filadelf¤a the view turns
to filajen¤a. This basic attitude of urban communities met the
demands of a most lively culture of traveling and communication
that was characteristic of early Christianity, thereby advancing the
Christians’ empire-wide interconnection to a remarkable degree (cf.
Rom 12:13; Peregr. 16). Alluding to scriptural, Jewish, and pagan nar-
ratives about the inadvertent accommodation of “divine guests” (e.g.,
Gen 18–19; Ovid, Metam. 8.620–724) the brief causal clause extends
the familial relationship to the community of heaven:42 those who
are socially marginalized experience close solidarity and partake in
the boundless family of faith.
(d) Heb 13:3: “Remember those who are in bonds, as if bound with
them, and those who are ill-treated, as if you yourselves were in
(their) body.” The tendency to marginalize cognitive minorities or
to put them under pressure to become assimilated may, if need be,
assume the form of imprisonment or public violence (cf. Heb 11:36–38).
Looking back on some persecution in the past, the passage Heb
10:32–34 provides the nearest comment on this admonition. The
scene is similar to that drawn by Lucian: formerly the addressees
have shown themselves as sharers with those who were imprisoned,
and the seizure of their possessions they accepted “with joy.” The
stronger the pressure the out-group exerts, the closer must the soli-
darity of the in-group be.
42
For discussion, see Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3:349–352. On the history of the
motif, see Daniela Flückiger-Guggenheim, Göttliche Gäste: Die Einkehr von Göttern und
Heroen in der griechischen Mythologie (Bern: Peter Lang, 1984); on the social value of
hospitality, see Bruce J. Malina, “Hospitality,” in Handbook of Biblical Social Values
(ed. John J. Pilch and Bruce J. Malina; 2d ed.; Peabody: Hendrickson, 2000), 115–118.
164 knut backhaus
(e) Heb 13:4: “Let marriage be esteemed (t¤miow) among all and let
the marital bed be undefiled, for God judges fornicators and adul-
terers.” Once more we will hardly do justice to the group-ethical
train of thought if we interpret this appeal for the appreciation of
marriage “among all” with regard to private morality only43 or reduce
its meaning to the history of ideas as being “a consequence of Jewish-
Christian sexual radicalism.”44 Rather, what is at stake here, put for-
ward by means of conventional language, is the insight that the
intimate decision for living in marriage is of extensive public relevance.
Matrimonial stability after the model of Jewish monogamy forms an
essential condition for a community that differs in lifestyle from the
dominant pagan culture and whose normative system is not endan-
gered by the promiscuity of its members. Such a community may
hand down its interpretative standards to the following generation
without being directly influenced by the traditions of out-groups, and,
not least, its appreciation of familial values in the “ecclesiola” of
one’s own household supports the familial self-affirmation of the com-
munity in general.
(f ) Heb 13:5a: “Let your conduct be unmercenary and be content

with what you have.” As Lucian has shown in satirical exaggera-
tion, it was a distinctive feature of an early Christian community
that “all” was considered “common property.” The moderation of
the faithful and their consequent readiness to give financial support
to their group, its economic system, and its social network have often
been named among those factors that made the Christian model of
life an attractive one in the Mediterranean society of the first cen-
turies.45 Nevertheless, the experience of “up and out” was a most
serious problem to the third generation: wherever the church lives
at the bottom of contemporary culture, those who climb up the lad-
der in society are in danger of leaving the church. Therefore this
admonition is not aimed at individual modesty only but at the estab-
43
So Harald Hegermann, Der Brief an die Hebräer (THKNT 16; Berlin: Evangelische
Verlagsanstalt, 1988), 269 (sanctification); Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3:353–357 (“pri-
vate life”).
44
So Kurt Niederwimmer, Askese und Martyrium: Über Ehe, Ehescheidung und Eheverzicht
in den Anfängen des christlichen Glaubens (FRLANT 113; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &
Ruprecht, 1975), 162–163.
45
See Douglas E. Oakman, “Self-Sufficiency,” in Social Values, 181–183.
lishment of a community that proves itself socially viable and ready

for competition.
(g) Heb 13:5b–6: While the exhortations are designed to establish the
conditions required to strengthen the social plausibility of the sym-
bolic universe in which the Christian minority lived, the causal clauses
look loosely affixed and lack, as it seems, any plan: an allusion to
possible experience of the transcendent world (v. 2b); an appeal to
self-consciousness (cf. v. 3b); a fierce warning of judgment (v. 4b).
The motive the author names at the close, however, unifies what
has been said before: God is unswervingly on the side of those who
believe in him and proves himself the only normative court, so that
in comparison with him any human opinion turns out to be of lim-
ited importance. It is this theological self-affirmation that gives courage
to Christians to show indifference to the majority opinion in the
dominant culture:
For he himself has said, “I will not abandon you, nor will I forsake
you” [Deut 31:6, 8]. So we should take courage and say, “The Lord
is my helper, and I shall not fear; what will any human being do to
me?” [Ps 117:6 lxx] (Heb 13:5b–6)
2.2.3. Organization of Knowledge (Heb 13:7–17)

(a) Heb 13:7, 17 (cf. Heb 13:18, 24): Early Christian communities
were essentially places for imparting religious knowledge. This had
an attractive effect on those who had been socialized in pagan cul-
ture, for neither the established nor the popular religions provided
any social or ethical knowledge that might give direction in times
of growing confusion.46
Thus the significance of the ≤goÊmenoi47 is intelligible. The frame-
work of the paraenetical catalog that treats of the Christian stock of
knowledge presents them as bearers of cognitive competence and
moral authority. Acceptance of a new code of behavior depends fun-
damentally on the reference-persons whom the subjects of a social
group allow to determine binding standards of orientation. The role
46
See Jochen Bleicken, Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte des Römischen Kaiserreiches
(vol. 2; 3d ed.; Paderborn: Schöningh, 1994), 118–121.
47
On this noun, see Laub, Bekenntnis und Auslegung, 47–50; Erich Grässer, “Die
Gemeindevorsteher im Hebräerbrief,” in Aufbruch und Verheissung, 213–230.
166 knut backhaus
of such “significant others” (George H. Mead) in the process of sec-

ond socialization grows even more important where one’s whole per-
ception of reality undergoes a religious transformation.
Verse 7 calls for anamnesis that may establish tradition and for
mimesis that may stabilize values by imitating those leaders of the
founding generation who have laid down the foundations of Christian
self-definition. It emphasizes their competence in the field of faith,
in terms of how they proclaimed the word of salvation or accepted
its consequences in an exemplary manner (énastrofÆ).48 Verse 17
directly stratifies the community, referring to “obedience” and “sub-
ordination” based on an ethics of responsibility. Accountable to God
for those entrusted to them, the leaders represent the one who is
the “significant other” per se. Verse 18 strengthens the author’s own
claim to significance by alluding to his exemplary and attractive man-
ner of conduct (énastr°fesyai); v. 24 links the author and the body
of leaders. The personal constellation arranged in this way secures
the form of interaction that is necessary for the affirmation of knowl-
edge and values.
(b) Heb 13:8–10: Starting with Christ as the reference-person with

regard to Christian continuity and identity (v. 8), the auctor ad Hebraeos
warns the addressees in a rather general way against the temptation
of being carried off “by diverse and strange teachings.” He contrasts
the Christian treasure, the “altar” as the cultic symbol of immedi-
ate access to God, with the useless foods of earthbound worship (vv.
9–10).49 Only the reality of salvation that may be reached in the
Christian community will give entrance into the divine counter-world.
Indeed, “the altar,” that is to say, a coherent doctrine developed
from the christological center, was of no little importance to the
attractiveness of early Christianity. Unlike the competing cults, which
seldom got beyond a few speculations, Christian theology, deeply
rooted in religious practice, was able to elaborate a symbolic world
that might be experienced as home of the homeless.50
48
For discussion, see Attridge, Hebrews, 391–392; Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3:367–370.
49
For discussion, see Attridge, Hebrews, 393–397; Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3:372–382;
Marie E. Isaacs, “Hebrews 13.9–16 Revisited,” NTS 43 (1997), 268–264 esp. 273–284.
50
See Bleicken, Verfassungs- und Sozialgeschichte, 176–177.
(c) Heb 13:11–14: Inspired by the axiomatic thinking of platonizing

metaphysics, the cultic typology of Hebrews localizes this homeland
“outside the camp.”51 Here we are entering the center of the epis-
tle’s paraenesis. Four times §j- designates the place of Jesus and his
sacrificial saving death, the basic movement of those who follow him,
and, indirectly, the place of the city which is to come. The entrance
into the divine presence, the imitation of Christ, and the search for
the eternal homeland assume the form of an exodus from urban
Roman culture (§jerx≈meya), thereby leading to the social stigmati-
zation of the “wandering people” (tÚn ÙneidismÚn aÈtoË f°rontew).
The fate of those who find themselves marginalized reveals their
christological and ecclesiological status: the community is paroik¤a
amidst the world. The history of this idea may scarcely be overes-
timated.52 The call for social exodus shows an illuminating parallel
to the appeal of John the Seer (Rev 18:4), who urges the people of
God to come out from the sinful city (§j°lyate).53 Both authors plead
for an attitude that refuses any integration into the dominant culture.
51
On the metaphysical aspects here, see James W. Thompson, The Beginnings of
Christian Philosophy: The Epistle to the Hebrews (CBQMS 13; Washington: Catholic
Biblical Association, 1982), 141–151.
52
On the motif of “wandering between the worlds,” see Erich Grässer, “‘Wir
haben hier keine bleibende Stadt’ (Hebr 13,14): Erwägungen zur christlichen Existenz
zwischen den Zeiten,” in Aufbruch und Verheissung, 251–264; Kurt Niederwimmer,
“Vom Glauben der Pilger: Erwägungen zu Hebr 11,8–10 und 13–16,” in Zur
Aktualität des Alten Testaments: Festschrift für Georg Sauer zum 65. Geburtstag (ed. Siegfried
Kreuzer and Kurt Lüthi; Frankfurt a. M.: Peter Lang, 1992), 121–131; with spe-
cial emphasis on the polis, Michael Theobald, “‘Wir haben hier keine bleibende
Stadt, sondern suchen die zukünftige’ (Hebr 13,14). Die Stadt als Ort der frühen
christlichen Gemeinde,” TGl 78 (1988): 16–40.
53
In the view of Hans-Josef Klauck (“Das Sendschreiben nach Pergamon und
der Kaiserkult in der Johannesoffenbarung,” in idem, Alte Welt und neuer Glaube:
Beiträge zur Religionsgeschichte, Forschungsgeschichte und Theologie des Neuen Testaments [NTOA
29; Freiburg i. Ue.: Universitätsverlag and Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1994], 115–143, here 137–141), this appeal summarizes the purpose of Revelation;
see Knut Backhaus, “Die Vision vom ganz Anderen: Geschichtlicher Ort und the-
ologische Mitte der Johannes-Offenbarung,” in Theologie als Vision: Studien zur Johannes-
Offenbarung (ed. Knut Backhaus; SBS 191; Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2001),
10–53, here 25–30. Insightfully, deSilva, Despising Shame, 315–317: “Despite its elo-
quence, its cultured, literary Greek, Hebrews is less interested in making a place
for Christianity within Greco-Roman society than Luke or even Paul.” It is hard
to see how Sanders (Ethics in the New Testament, 110) might give reasons from the
text for his judgment that the ethics of Hebrews is congruent with “good citizen-
ship.” Even less convincing is the suggestion by Richard W. Johnson (Going Outside
the Camp: The Sociological Function of the Levitical Critique in the Epistle to the Hebrews
[ JSNTSup 209; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001], 146–153) that Hebrews
aims at “world mission.”
168 knut backhaus
The auctor ad Hebraeos, however, gives this refusal the less aggressive
note of a hopeful, worshiping eisodos into the sacred space of Christ’s
counter-world (§jerx≈meya prÚw aÈtÒn!).
(d) Heb 13:15–16: It is in this sense that the sacrificial imagery for
ethical behavior in the frame of the double instruction v. 15a and
v. 16b returns to the basic interpretative system that underlies the
central part of Hebrews. The calling for prayers of praise and con-
fession, beneficence and fellowship (vv. 15b–16a) once again aims at
both the cognitive and the practical construction of Christian real-
ity. Rooted in God’s prior activity, such realization is considered to
be thankful re-action (cf. Heb 12:28).54 The common world of early
Christians—their worshiping, their self-awareness as described in the
homologia, their solidarity under pressure, and their practical koinonia
in everyday life—takes part in the great drama between heaven and
earth performed by the Son and high priest Jesus Christ. While the
dominant culture will remain captured in a self-referential system,
what opens above the marginalized existence of the undistinguished
Christian minority is the heavenly reality. And it is at this very point
where the imperative is literally rooted in the indicative: DiÉ aÈtoË . . .
3. Sociological Considerations
3.1. Legitimation of the Christian Model

The interpretation of the paraenetical passages of Hebrews allows
us to give an answer to our opening questions:
Ad (1): The general theological conception of Hebrews legitimates
the referential system that safeguards and determines both the per-
ception of reality and the self-understanding of the community. The
ethical exhortations aim at the segmentation of Christian identity by
providing the basic social conditions for this referential system. So
the general theological conception as well as the particular ethical
instructions serve the same purpose, i.e., the systematic and practi-
cal conceptualization of an interpretative sphere that protects the
self-definition of the community from the cognitive majority and the
54
On thankfulness as a basic feature of the patron-client relationship in the
Mediterranean society of the first century, see deSilva, Perseverance, 474–476.
pressure of cultural assimilation and enables the individual to inter-

nalize specifically Christian standards of practice.
Ad (2): The ethical exhortations of Hebrews recommend the effi-
cient self-organization of an in-group in a crisis of interpretation and
motivation produced by the experience of being socially stigmatized.
What is required in this liminal phase between society and com-
munity is first of all a concentration upon the internal realm of one’s
own cognitive group.55 Marginalization gains a dignity of its own by
being regarded as entrance into God’s sacred space so that a sym-
bolic universe may be established that no longer depends on what
is plausible in the view of the dominant culture.
So, to ask Brecht’s question again, what is changed by the ethics
of Hebrews? It is the referential system, the social self-definition, and
the practical horizon of faith. In short, the faithful are “changed.”
“Furthermore, their first lawgiver persuaded them that they are
all brothers of one another after they have transgressed once for
all by denying the Greek gods and by worshipping that crucified
sophist himself and living according to his laws.” Let us consider
Lucian’s satirical comment from the point of view of the sociology
of knowledge.56
The interpretation above has revealed how Hebrews works out
structures of legitimation in order to establish and safeguard an
autonomous sub-universe of both referential and social interrelation-
ships that provide the individual Christians with an order of mean-
ing. It is this cognitive, normative, and emotional orientation that is
of ethical relevance, either directly in the biographical process of the
second socialization or indirectly by means of habitualization and
institutionalization.57 It goes without saying that Hebrews relativizes
55
See Popkes, Paränese, 42–44.
56
For the following reflections, see Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The
Social Construction of Reality: A Treatise in the Sociology of Knowledge (London: Penguin,
1991), esp. 97–146, 157–166. This treatise may in part be read as a sociological
comment on the ethics of Hebrews. Therefore the recent monograph by Salevao
(Legitimation, esp. 170–249) enters a very important field, though I seriously doubt
if it takes the right way by reaffirming the classical relapse theory. For critical discus-
sion of the sociology of knowledge approach, see ibid., 11–94; Attridge, “Paraenesis,”
217–221 (reserved); deSilva, Perseverance, 7–16; recently, with a problematic inter-
pretative framework, Johnson, Going Outside the Camp; in general, Leo G. Perdue,
“The Social Character of Paraenesis and Paraenetic Literature,” Semeia 50 (1990):
5–39.
57
Legitimation and socialization should not be considered as different functions
of paraenesis. Rather, the difference lies in the point of view: legitimation provides
170 knut backhaus
the significant values of the dominant culture in this way so that in

the view of those responsible for the definition of society this different
sub-universe will be separationist and esoteric.
This explains why the reasons Hebrews puts forward in support
of the ethical exhortations seem to be loosely and unsystematically
connected. The author is less concerned to give ethics a logically
coherent foundation than to give those who are going to practice
the ethics an inward homeland secured by multiple reference: harsh
sanction58 against conversion to the competing system, arousing both
metus and spes in order to give emotional support to social bound-
aries (cf. Heb 6:4–8 and 6:9; 10:26–31 and 10:39);59 allusions to the
experience of transcendence and group solidarity; references to scrip-
ture; historical insights and moral examples; imagery of athletics and
battle. The symbolic world of the theological exposition and the
paraenetically stimulated practice prove to be interdependent: Practice
that seems to be trivial at first sight turns out to be profound from
the perspective of eternity; social functions that serve group main-
tenance obtain points of orientation and motivation; the “significant
others” substantiate and limit their claims in view of the “Son and
high priest” or God as the “significant other” per se; the individual
death may be integrated within a meaningful reality (cf. Heb 2:15);
history is ordered in a cohesive unity that includes the cognitive
“ancestors,” present collective experience, and the hoped-for reality
of the generation that is to come, so that the individual may tran-
scend the finitude of isolated existence (cf. Heb 11:1–12:2); “an infe-
rior ontological status, and thereby a not-to-be-taken-seriously cognitive
status,”60 is assigned to competitive definitions of reality (cf. e.g., Heb
7:11–28; 8:1–13). Religious “alternation”61 as a comprehensive form
the relevant social segment with a conceptual machinery of objective reality; and
(second) socialization arranges the subjective internalization of this reality and the
role-specific activity it demands. On the social setting of the community of Hebrews,
see the important insights of Craig R. Koester, Hebrews (AB 36; New York: Doubleday,
2001), 64–79.
58
The violence of this defensive procedure seems to be proportional to the seri-
ousness with which the threat caused by the alternative reality was felt; cf. Berger
and Luckmann, Social Construction, 104–105, 175–176.
59
On the problem of sin, which is not systematically developed in Hebrews, see
Löhr, Umkehr und Sünde, 11–135; on the “impossibility of second penitence” see ibid.,
215–235; from a sociological point of view, Salevao, Legitimation, 250–338.
60
Berger and Luckmann, Social Construction, 132.
61
See Berger and Luckmann, Social Construction, 176–182.
of second socialization rebounds on the individual’s home reality by

reshaping familial ethos and rearranges knowledge of world and his-
tory within the new system of reference (cf. Heb 5:11–6:3).62 This
extensive counter-definition of reality is summed up in the way
Hebrews reorganizes the ethical patterns of social acceptance.
3.2. Transformation of Social Acceptance

Individuals as well as groups that are, by religious conversion, widely
disconnected from the dominant plausibility structure will develop
their own value system, which may be considered as an elaborate
counter-world of the home reality that has been abandoned. From
an external point of view, those values may seem subversive, but
within the community they strengthen both self-awareness and immu-
nity to social ostracism and to the rejection of their own identity
concept by the dominant culture.
Lucian (Peregr. 12–13) remarks that having been thrown into prison
gave Peregrinus “no little reputation” (oÈ mikrÚn aÈt“ éj¤vma periepo¤h-
sen), while the Christians “despised” property and death (katafron°v).
This observation draws our attention to a basic revaluation of éj¤vma
that is mirrored in the ethics of Hebrews. Fixing public worth and
social acceptance, the pivotal values “honor” and “shame” are the
core determinants in the group life of Mediterranean culture in the
first century.63 It is this value system that Hebrews consistently re-
defines.64
Thus the epistle focuses on the minority status of Christians. In
previous persecution they were “made a public spectacle through
reproaches and afflictions” (Ùneidismo›w te ka‹ yl¤cesin yeatrizÒmenoi)
because of their “illumination” (fvtisy°ntew) or they shared the fate
of those who were treated in this way (Heb 10:32–33). “Shame”
62
On the instruction presupposed in Heb 5:11–6:3, see Thompson, Beginnings,
17–40; Löhr, Umkehr und Sünde, 164–187; Wilhelm Thüsing, “‘Milch’ und ‘feste
Speise’ (1Kor 3,1f und Hebr 5,11–6,3): Elementarkatechese und theologische Vertiefung
in neutestamentlicher Sicht,” in Studien, 23–56.
63
See David A. deSilva, The Hope of Glory: Honor Discourse and New Testament
Interpretation (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1999); Joseph Plevnik, “Honor/ Shame,”
in Social Values, 106–115; Malina, New Testament World, 27–57; a more (and probably
too) skeptical view is taken by F. Gerald Downing, “‘Honor’ among Exegetes,”
CBQ 61 (1999): 53–73.
64
For details, see the instructive monograph by deSilva, Despising Shame, esp. 145–
208; summarized in David A. deSilva, “Despising Shame: A Cultural-Anthropological
Investigation of the Epistle to the Hebrews,” JBL 113 (1994): 439–461.
172 knut backhaus
proves to be an identity marker of being a Christian: Moses, a proto-

type of faith, already deemed the “shame of Christ” to be “wealth
greater than the treasures of Egypt,” therefore leaving the land of
exile like one seeing Him who is unseen (Heb 11:24–27). The call
for social exodus at Heb 13:13–14 is specified by a participle that
depicts the Christians bearing the “shame” of Jesus (tÚn ÙneidismÚn
aÈtoË f°rontew), because with him they find both the polis that remains
and their real “civic pride.” The initiator and perfecter of faith,
Christ, is the example of being a Christian because he has endured
the cross despising (katafron°v) shame and disregarding all the hos-
tility to himself “on the part of sinners” (cf. Heb 12:2–3).
It is at this point that Hebrews refers to the totally different, viz.
heavenly, system of values: all the splendor of power is transposed
to the cross, which has to all appearances been the place of ulti-
mate humiliation.65 The mors turpissima crucis is revealed as an act of
enthronement to the right hand of God, and here the central pas-
sages present Jesus to the readers (Heb 1:3, 8; 4:16; 8:1; 10:12–13)
as being superior to the angelic retinue (Heb 1:5–14) and crowned
with glory (dÒja) and honor (timÆ) (Heb 2:7, 9; cf. 3:3; 5:4–5; 13:21).
When those who belong to him follow him, they will obtain their
own doxa (Heb 2:10), for he will not be ashamed (§paisxÊnetai) to
call them “brethren” (Heb 2:11), thereby changing them into “par-
takers of a heavenly calling” (Heb 3:1).
Thus Hebrews redefines the standards that provide social acknowl-
edgement (éj¤vma) and so transforms the values that give orienta-
tion to ethical practice. The “court of reputation”66 for those who
“approach” is no longer the plausibility structure of the urban major-
ity but God as the founder of the better or heavenly homeland (cf.
Heb 11:8–16).
In ironical reversal of the conventional standards, God is not
ashamed (§paisxÊnetai) to be called the God of those who believe
in him (Heb 11:16), and the world is not worthy of those it considers
to be marginal (Heb 11:38). Public opinion loses any relevance as
65
See Otto Kuss, “Der theologische Grundgedanke des Hebräerbriefes: Zur
Deutung des Todes Jesu im Neuen Testament,” in idem, Auslegung und Verkündigung
(vol. 1; Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1963), 281–328, here 305–320.
66
For this term, see Julian Pitt-Rivers, “Honour and Social Status,” in Honour
and Shame: The Values of Mediterranean Society (ed. John G. Peristiany; London: Weidenfeld
and Nicolson, 1965), 19–77, here 21–39, esp. 27; for the relevance of this term to
Hebrews in detail, see deSilva, Despising Shame, 276–313.
an ethical court, because the only court Christians allow is that of

heaven (cf. Heb 13:5b–6). It is in this light that the concentration
on God’s reward, which is a characteristic of Hebrews and which
is so often criticized,67 should be seen: Hebrews does not aim at
human reward, but acknowledgement sub specie aeterni.68 It is not the
Christians who are contemptible, but their shame (cf. Heb 12:2).
The counter-definition of reality and the resultant devaluation of pub-
lic opinion may find special support in the Platonic way of thought
shared by Hebrews (cf. Plato, Crito 44c; 46c–47d; Gorg. 526d–527e).69
There is an illuminating parallel in the first contact between Platonizing
philosophy and Roman pietas in the Somnium Scipionis dealing with the
very subject of true reward. Glory among people (ista hominum gloria),
Scipio Africanus maior tells his grandson from his eternal point of
view, is of little value compared to infinity: “If you will only look on
high and contemplate this eternal home and resting place, you will no
longer attend to the gossip of the vulgar herd or put your trust in
human rewards for your exploits. Virtue herself, by her own charms,
should lead you on to true glory (ad verum decus). Let what others say
of you be their own concern; whatever it is, they will say it in any
case. But all their talk is limited to those narrow regions which you
look upon, nor will any man’s reputation endure very long, for what
men say dies with them and is blotted out with the forgetfulness of
posterity.” To this Aemilianus responds: “If indeed a path to heaven
(limes ad caeli aditum), as it were, is open to those who have served their
country well, henceforth I will redouble my efforts, spurred on by so
splendid a reward (tanto praemio exposito)!” (Cicero, Resp. 6:23/25–6:24/26;
Keyes, LCL).70
Faith according to Hebrews is Christian loyalty towards this invisi-
ble universe, a loyalty based on the “things unseen” that have been
proved (Heb 11:1). The internalized standard this “court of reputa-
tion” applies is the Christian’s sune¤dhsiw (Heb 9:9, 14; 10:2, 22;
67
Völkl, Christ und Welt, 358–359; Herbert Braun, “Die Gewinnung der Gewissheit
in dem Hebräerbrief,” TLZ 96 (1971): 321–330, here 322–323, 330; Schulz,
Neutestamentliche Ethik, 633–635; Schrage, Ethik des Neuen Testaments, 326–327.
68
A sociological approach may show that the motif of reward has a function of
its own in the Roman patron-client relationship; see in detail deSilva, Despising Shame,
209–275, 304–307; deSilva, Perseverance, 59–64.
69
See deSilva, Despising Shame, 82–86, 320.
70
For interpretation, see Karl Büchner, M. Tullius Cicero: De re publica: Kommentar
(Heidelberg: Winter, 1984), 435–508, esp. 484–502; on our passage also Michael
von Albrecht, Meister römischer Prosa von Cato bis Apuleius (2d ed.; Heidelberg: Lambert
Schneider, 1983), 127–137.
174 knut backhaus
13:18).71 It is conscience that marks the inner commitment to the

value system once accepted; “purified” and “perfected,” it leads the
individual as well as the community into God’s immediate presence.72
It is not a moral change only that is at stake here, but the com-
prehensive orientation of mind, heart, and practice according to
God’s sanctity, a fundamental renewal within the magnetic field of
a heaven that has been opened by Christ, although under the weighty
conditions of everyday fidelity.73 The ethics of Hebrews turns the
religious question into a question of life, a point of honor, and a
matter for conscience.
Peter L. Berger entitled his classic treatise on the sociology of reli-
gious knowledge A Rumor of Angels. He was inspired by a verse from
the final paraenesis of Hebrews, which has so often been a subject
of exegetical criticism: “Do not forget hospitality, for through this
some have inadvertently entertained angels” (Heb 13:2).74 Berger
shows that the consciousness of secularism, as any other plausibility
structure, is no absolute taken-for-granted certitude. The consistent
relativizers will in the end of all relativizing relativize their own think-
ing. The way, therefore, is open to set out to explore those rumors
of angels and to follow them up to their source.
71
On sune¤dhsiw in Hebrews, see Grässer, An die Hebräer, 2:136–139; deSilva,
Perseverance, 300–301; on conscience being an inward court in Philo, see Walther
Völker, Fortschritt und Vollendung bei Philo von Alexandrien: Eine Studie zur Geschichte der
Frömmigkeit (TU 49/1; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1938), 95–105; Christian Maurer, “sÊnoida,
sune¤dhsiw,” TWNT 7 (1964): 897–918, here 910–912; David Winston, “Philo’s
Ethical Theory,” ANRW 21.1: 372–416, here 389–391.
72
On the complex term tele¤vsiw, which must not be reduced to a concept of
moral development, see David Peterson, Hebrews and Perfection: An Examination of the
Concept of Perfection in the “Epistle to the Hebrews” (SNTSMS 47; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1982), esp. 126–167; Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 185–200; Löhr, Umkehr
und Sünde, 276–285; deSilva, Perseverance, 194–204. On perfection in Philo, see Völker,
Fortschritt und Vollendung, esp. 318–350; for comparison with Hebrews, see Charles
E. Carlston, “The Vocabulary of Perfection in Philo and Hebrews,” in Unity and
Diversity in New Testament Theology: Essays in Honor of George E. Ladd (ed. Robert A.
Guelich; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 133–160.
73
See also Horst Nitschke, “Das Ethos des wandernden Gottesvolks: Erwägungen
zu Hebr. 13 und zu den Möglichkeiten evangelischer Ethik,” MPTh 46 (1957):
179–183, esp. 179–180. A sensitive observation is contributed by Thomas G. Long,
“Bold in the Presence of God,” Int 52 (1998): 53–69, here 63: “Every event in the
visible world, every experience, every seemingly tangible reality is attached to a
cord of words that leads behind the curtain, and only there, in what cannot be
seen, is the truth. That is why ‘we must pay greater attention to what we have
heard . . .’ (2:1).”
74
Peter L. Berger, A Rumor of Angels: Modern Society and the Rediscovery of the Supernatural
(Garden City: Doubleday, 1970), 95.
In Berger’s view, this endeavor will start with basic human expe-
rience that leads to an inductive theology revealing “in, with, and
under” religious projection the crucial dimension of transcendence.
Wherever the construction of reality is oriented in the light of a sym-
bolic universe that is not a room closed to the world outside but
has open windows for the realization of transcendence, everyday life
will burst its limits and its truly “other” reality will be rediscovered.
The moral challenge of the moment is not dispelled in this way. On
the contrary, each human gesture in the everyday dramas of life,
however meaningless it may seem, becomes infinitely meaningful and
gains an immeasurable ethical relevance. In the midst of human
affairs we “entertain angels,” keepers of transcendence in a disen-
chanted world. The theological mountain is in labor—and what is
born is an ethical universe.
Prof. Dr. theol. Knut Backhaus

Lehrstuhl für neutestamentliche Exegese und biblische Hermeneutik
Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München
Katholisch-Theologische Fakultät
Geschwister-Scholl-Platz 1, D-80539 München, Germany
[email protected]
THE INTERSECTION OF ALIEN STATUS AND CULTIC
DISCOURSE IN THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS
Benjamin Dunning
1. Introduction
What made Mormons different? In his innovative study, Religious

Outsiders and the Making of Americans, R. Laurence Moore examines
the motif of outsiderhood as a self-designation for religious groups
in 19th- and 20th-century America. Of particular interest is his chap-
ter on the early days of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day
Saints and the hostile polemic surrounding the group. Here Moore
poses a simple but critical query: why did “most everyone who wrote
about Joseph Smith’s church [in the 19th century], and above all
this included the Mormons themselves, [assert] that Mormons were
not like other Americans”?1 What exactly was so different about this
group? Perhaps even more to the point, what made Mormon difference
so significant in 19th-century America?
Potential “objective” answers to this question may seem straight-
forward: polygamy, perceived “sectarian” behavior, theological inno-
vations, and so on. Yet when we take into account the movement’s
birth in “an era fecund in religious inventiveness,” the issue be-
comes decidedly more complex.2 As Moore perceptively points out,
1
R. Laurence Moore, Religious Outsiders and the Making of Americans (Oxford: Oxford
2
Moore, Religious Outsiders, 29. We should note that polygamy was not practiced
by a large majority of 19th-century Mormons and did not become a significant
part of polemical literature against the group until over a decade after its found-
ing. As Moore notes, “Interestingly, other American religious groups that adopted
distinct sexual practices and followed them consistently, the Shakers and the Oneida
‘perfectionists,’ for example, were far less persecuted than the Mormons. In assem-
bling a historical reality, one need not abandon the reasonable proposition that the
practice of plural marriage constituted one difference between Mormons and other
Americans. The problem is that this difference took on rather greater significance,
and led to far greater conflict, than any objective difference in value system would
have warranted.” As for other “peculiarities of the Mormon faith,” the early Mormon
position contained significant theological novelty but “was generally in line with
other liberalizing trends that provoked religious controversy [but not scandalized
178 benjamin dunning
“a generation that read almost daily about the claims of various men
and women to new religious revelation might have been expected
to greet Joseph Smith’s Book of Mormon more calmly than one
vociferous part of it did.”3 The question this raises for the study of
the Latter-Day Saints is this: how can one account for the histori-
cal and cultural significance of perceived Mormon difference?
In light of this dilemma, Moore concludes that any attempt to
mount an “objective” case for Mormon difference proves unhelpful
and is best abandoned. Instead, he contends:4
Mormons were different because they said they were different and
because their claims . . . prompted others to agree and to treat them
as such. The notion of Mormon difference, that is, was a deliberate
invention elaborated over time . . . [By declaring their outsider status,]
they built a usable social identity for themselves. (italics added)
Moore thus highlights the role that a discourse of outsiderhood played
in forming communal religious identity against the backdrop of a
disorienting array of religious options in 19th-century America. To
put it bluntly, the early Mormon community put this discourse to
work in order to construct and maintain their distinctive religious
identity in a confusingly pluralistic universe.
Indeed, recent scholarship has examined the ways in which the
very category of “otherness” functions not to demarcate essentialized
difference but rather to define social relationships in a particular way—
i.e., to accomplish a social function in a given cultural context with
respect to that which is marked as “other.” As Jonathan Z. Smith
has pointed out, the issue at stake is not really difference but rather
proximity: how a group marks out its own sense of self over and
against those who are too much like it. In Smith’s memorable phrase,
“‘Otherness,’ whether of Scotsmen or lice, is a preeminently political
matter.”5 By inventing themselves as the outsiders with respect to
American culture, the early Mormons were in fact able to construct
a powerful notion of insiderness—one that served both to define/
protect the boundaries of community identity and also to reinforce
outcry] in the 19th century. Theologically, in fact, Mormonism was in its begin-
nings a dull affair.” See Moore, Religious Outsiders, 28–30.
3
Moore, Religious Outsiders, 29.
4
Moore, Religious Outsiders, 31, 46.
5
Jonathan Z. Smith, “What a Difference a Difference Makes,” in “To See Ourselves
As Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity (ed. Jacob Neusner and
Ernest S. Frerichs; Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press, 1985), 10.
the intersection of alien status and cultic discourse 179
communal solidarity against the threat of the overly proximate in

19th-century America.
If we turn now to another dizzyingly diverse socio-religious world,
that of Greco-Roman antiquity, might we see tantalizing textual
traces of a similar dynamic at work in a set of burgeoning socio-
religious movements commonly lumped under the rubric of “early
Christianity”? Particularly noteworthy is the use of what I will label
“alien rhetoric”—the early Christian appeal to language of sojourn-
ing, foreignness and alien status as a means of self-designation.6
Although this motif is used extensively in several early Christian texts,
I will focus here on its deployment in the Epistle to the Hebrews.7
I will pay particular attention to how this language functions strate-
gically to construct a “usable social identity” for a socio-religious
movement seeking to define itself not simply vis-à-vis a singular other
such as “Judaism” (itself a reified scholarly construct), but rather with
respect to the vast range of social, philosophical, and cultic identi-
ties and practices that proliferated in the Roman world. In other
words, even as the Latter-Day Saints made use of a discourse of
outsiderhood to invent and maintain a certain type of communal
identity, so also early Christians were able, in a vastly different cul-
tural context, to utilize the language of alien status to achieve sim-
ilar ends.
6
“Rhetoric” is used here in the more general sense (that is, the use of language
for persuasive means) rather than the narrower sense of ancient rhetoric. For a dis-
cussion of ancient rhetorical categories in relationship to Hebrews and other ancient
literature, see David A. deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary
on the Epistle “to the Hebrews” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 39–58.
7
For broader studies of the stranger and alien motif in early Christianity, see
Reinhard Feldmeier, “The ‘Nation’ of Strangers: Social Contempt and its Theological
Interpretation in Ancient Judaism and Early Christianity,” in Ethnicity and the Bible
(ed. M. G. Brett; Leiden: Brill, 1996); Eckhard Plümacher, Identitätsverlust und
Identitätsgewinn: Studien zum Verhältnis von kaiserzeitlicher Stadt und frühem Christentum
(BibS(N) 11; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1987). Also note that the scholarly
focus on this motif in early Christianity has centered around discussion of 1 Peter.
See in particular John H. Elliott, A Home for the Homeless: A Sociological Exegesis of 1
Peter, its Situation and Strategy (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981); Reinhard Feldmeier, Die
Christen als Fremde: Die Metapher der Fremde in der antiken Welt, im Urchristentum and im
1. Petrusbrief (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992). For a catalogue of relevant references
in the patristic literature through the third century, see J. Roldanus, “Réferences
patristiques au ‘chrétien-étranger’ dans les trois premiers siècles,” CBP 1 (1987):
27–52.
2. From Abraham to “Us”: Alien Rhetoric as Paraenetic

Strategy in Hebrews
In terms of the larger thematic and theological concerns of Hebrews

as a whole, Ernst Käsemann was the first scholar to draw attention
to the wandering people of God as a key motif for understanding
the text in its entirety: “Faith thus becomes a confident wander-
ing . . . in every age faith’s wandering must be a march through a
zone of conflict and death, and it is clearly shown in the example
of Jesus . . . God’s people traverse [this zone] for the sake of the
Word.”8 While Käsemann is no doubt correct about the importance
of this theme for understanding Hebrews, his study does not exam-
ine in depth the sub-theme that emerges in Heb 11—the explicit
use of alien rhetoric, i.e., the language of sojourning, strangeness,
foreignness, and alien status:
By faith Abraham obeyed, when he was called to go forth to a place
which he was going to receive as an inheritance; and he went out,
not knowing where he was going. By faith he sojourned in the land
of the promise, as in a foreign land, dwelling in tents along with Isaac
and Jacob, those fellow-heirs of the same promise. For he was wait-
ing expectantly for the city having foundations whose artisan and
builder is God. . . . In faith, all these people died, not having received
the promises. But they saw them and greeted them from a distance.
And they confessed that they were strangers and sojourners on the
earth. For those who say such things make it clear that they are seek-
ing a homeland. And if they were reminiscing about that [land] from
which they had departed, they would have had a time to return. But
as it stands, they long for a better [homeland], that is, a heavenly one.
Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; for he has pre-
pared a city for them. (Heb 11:8–10, 13–16)9
In this pericope, Hebrews carefully constructs the character of Abraham
as “the paroikos ‘par excellence.’”10 By designating Abraham as a
8
Ernst Käsemann, The Wandering People of God: An Investigation of the Letter to the
Hebrews (trans. Roy A. Harrisville and Irving L. Sandberg; Minneapolis: Augsburg,
1984), 44. Note also William G. Johnsson’s study, which builds on Käsemann’s
work, examining the (closely-related) pilgrimage motif in Hebrews through exegesis
of the relevant texts. See William G. Johnsson, “The Pilgrimage Motif in the Book
of Hebrews,” JBL 97 (1978): 239–251.
9
Translations from Hebrews and other ancient sources are my own.
10
P. J. Arowele, “The Pilgrim People of God—An African’s Reflections on the
Motif of Sojourn in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” AJT 4 (1990): 441. For a thor-
ough examination of the meaning and use of pãroikow in Greco-Roman antiquity,
see Elliott’s discussion with respect to 1 Peter in John H. Elliott, 1 Peter: A New
pãroikow or “resident alien,” the text is making a characterization

that resonates with the lxx.11 Yet simply appealing to the lxx con-
nection does little to illuminate the function of Abraham as pãroikow
in the Hebrews pericope.12 Indeed the story of Abraham the sojourner,
while clearly associated with the Septuagint, could be used in a vari-
ety of ways in antiquity, often ones that explicitly downplayed its
sojourner/alien aspect.
For example, Philo characterizes Abraham’s arrival in the land of
promise as “just like having come back from a foreign land to his
own country” (kayãper épÚ t∞w j°nhw efiw tØn ofike¤an §pani≈n).13
Similarly, in Jewish Antiquities, Josephus only mentions that Abraham
“settled” (kat“khse, 1.154; cf. also 1.157) in Canaan.14 In Reinhard
Feldmeier’s analysis,15
Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 37b; New York: Doubleday, 2000),
476–483; Elliott, Home for the Homeless, 24–49. These discussions pay particular atten-
tion to Hellenistic sources from Asia Minor, the lxx and New Testament texts.
Elliott draws on this impressive array of sources to argue that the vast majority of
the term’s occurrences reflect a political-legal sense of “being or living as a resi-
dent alien in a foreign environment or away from home.” See Elliott, Home for the
Homeless, 35. Thus Elliott argues that pãroikow and its cognates function generally
and in 1 Peter as technical terms for a legal status based on a lack of citizenship,
irrespective of religious considerations. Note however, that while Elliott is adamant
that the use of sojourning language in 1 Peter signifies the technical social status
of its audiences, he allows for its metaphorical usage in Hebrews, citing its “Platonic
cosmological perspective.” See Elliott, Home for the Homeless, 55. Be that as it may,
pinning down a singular and monological “meaning” for pãroikow or any other
relevant alien terminology is less helpful for this project, given our concern with
the function of this rhetoric in a particular text.
11
Notably Gen 17:8, in which God explicitly promises to give to Abraham and
his descendants the land of Canaan where Abraham currently sojourns as a resi-
dent alien (ka‹ d≈sv soi ka‹ t“ sp°rmat¤ sou metå s¢ tØn g∞n, ∂n paroike›w,
pçsan tØn g∞n Xanaan). Also Gen 23:4, in which Abraham exclaims to the Hittites,
“I am a resident alien and sojourner among you” (Pãroikow ka‹ parep¤dhmow §g≈
efimi meyÉ Ím«n).
12
Here I follow post-structuralist critiques of a general source/origin orientation
towards textual analysis, well expressed by Michel Foucault in his problematizing
of “the notion of influence, which provides a support—of too magical a kind to be
very amenable to analysis—for the facts of transmission and communication; which
refers to an apparently causal process (but with neither rigorous delimitation nor
theoretical definition) the phenomena of resemblance or repetition.” Michel Foucault,
The Archaeology of Knowledge and the Discourse on Language (trans. A. M. Sheridan Smith;
New York: Pantheon, 1972), 21.
13
Philo, Abr. 62.
14
We should not overplay this point, given that katoik°v is the same verb used
in Heb 11:9 to refer to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob dwelling in tents in the land of
promise. However, when each passage is looked at in context (especially given the
reference to a transient dwelling place such as a tent in the case of Hebrews), the
contrast seems clear.
15
Feldmeier, “‘Nation’ of Strangers,” 247–248.
Quite deliberately, then, living in the land as situation of fulfilled promise is

contrasted with the existence as strangers. The corollary of this is that in its
own land Israel is not a sojourner at all, but a full citizen, designated
as such by God. This connection is so close that even the foreignness
of the patriarchs, so frequently emphasized in the book of Genesis, is
suppressed and the text is emended accordingly . . . Thus Josephus also
plays down the foreignness of Abraham, and instead emphasizes that
he lived in the land, left it to his descendants, and possessed it.
Even in an early Christian context such as 1 Clem. 10, we can see
a use of the Abraham story that makes similar choices, highlighting
Abraham’s faithful obedience (1 Clem. 10.1–2, 7) and his future inher-
itance of the land (1 Clem. 10.4) but not his sojourning status at any
point during the narrative. Thus, in our analysis of the Abraham
narrative in Heb 11, we need to examine not just its connection to
the Septuagint, but also what is at stake in the specific ways in which
the pericope builds its own distinctive narrative using the cultural
material at its disposal.
In this particular telling, Abraham is introduced as an exemplar
of faithful submission: having been called, he obeyed and went out
by faith, even though he was ignorant of where he was going (Heb
11:8, P¤stei kaloÊmenow ÉAbraåm ÍpÆkousen §jelye›n efiw tÒpon ˘n
≥mellen lambãnein efiw klhronom¤an, ka‹ §j∞lyen mØ §pistãmenow poË
¶rxetai). Thus the discussion from the outset is couched not only in
terms of faith (the motif that serves as an anaphoric structuring device
throughout the chapter) but also of Abraham’s obedience. As an act
of ÍpakoÆ, Abraham enters into the new status and identity which
the text is about to explicate.
In Heb 11:9, the explicit construction of Abraham as alien begins
in earnest. The patriarch’s faithful obedience to God’s call is char-
acterized in terms of sojourning—living in the land divinely promised
to him as though it were foreign (P¤stei par–khsen efiw g∞n t∞w
§paggel¤aw …w éllotr¤an). At this point, however, the text makes
clear that the sojourning motif has a larger function than simply to
describe the particular character of Abraham. Accordingly, Hebrews
spreads its net a little wider, designating not only Abraham but also
Isaac and Jacob as those who dwelled in tents, evoking imagery of
nomadic transience (§n skhna›w katoikÆsaw metå ÉIsaåk ka‹ ÉIakΔb);
Isaac and Jacob are included not simply as fellow tent-dwellers but
also as fellow-heirs (t«n sugklhronÒmvn t∞w §paggel¤aw t∞w aÈt∞w).
With the addition of these two figures to the motif, the social func-
tion of the sojourning motif comes into view. The implications are
communal, constructing an identity for a multigenerational group of
people (Abraham, Isaac and Jacob), not simply the Abraham figure.16
Of course on one level, all the heroes in the catalogue of Heb 11
have larger communal implications. As David A. deSilva points out,
the example list “is calculated to rouse emulation by praising the
figures of the past who have attained honorable memory.”17 Hearers
of the text are meant to identify with the individuals being listed
and emulate their positive character traits. Thus figures such as Abel,
Enoch, and Noah all display characteristics of faithfulness (righteous
“sacrifice,” belief in God’s existence, condemnation for the world,
etc., Heb 11:4–5, 7) that the audience of the text as a whole is sup-
posed to imitate—through the actions of the individuals who com-
prise that audience.
We see a similar dynamic at work in another early Christian cat-
alogue of heroes, found in chapters 9–13 of 1 Clement (ca. 93–97 ce).
Here the text’s readers are instructed to look intently upon those
who have perfectly rendered service to God’s magnificent glory
(1. Clem. 9.2, éten¤svmen efiw toÁw tele¤vw leitourgÆsantaw tª mega-
loprepe› dÒj˙ aÈtoË [Ehrman, LCL]). 1 Clement then takes its read-
ers on an excursion into this “looking intently,” reminding us that
Enoch was found righteous in obedience (1. Clem. 9.3, ˘w §n Ípakoª
d¤kaiow eÍreye¤w), Noah faithful through his service (1. Clem. 9.4,
pistÚw eÍreye‹w diå t∞w leitourg¤aw aÈtoË), and Abraham faithful in
his obedience (1. Clem. 10.1, pistÚw eÍr°yh §n t“ aÈtÚn ÍpÆkoon
gen°syai). A bit further on, it informs us, through essentially syn-
onymous expressions, that on account of faith/piety and hospitality,
Abraham was given a son (1. Clem. 10.7, diå p¤stin ka‹ filojen¤an)
and both Lot and Rahab were saved (1. Clem. 11.1, diå filojen¤an
ka‹ eÈs°beian; 1. Clem. 12.1, diå p¤stin ka‹ filojen¤an).
It is clear that these descriptions in 1 Clement function not just to
convey information about each particular character but also to draw
out individual paraenetic implications for the text’s readers. This
16
Note also that this move continues to shape the patriarchal sojourning narra-
tive to Hebrews’ particular ends. Contrast this to the assertion of Gen 37:1, for
example, that Jacob settled in the land in which his father sojourned (kat–kei d¢
Iakvb §n tª gª, o par–khsen ı patØr aÈtoË).
17
deSilva, Perseverance, 380.
broader thrust is made explicit in 1 Clem. 11.1 with the more gen-
eral application of Lot’s deliverance: “On account of his hospitality
and piety, Lot was saved out of Sodom, when the entire region was
judged by fire and sulfur; when he did so, the Master made clear
that he does not forsake those who hope in him, but consigns to
punishment and torment those who have other allegiance” (Diå filo-
jen¤an ka‹ eÈs°beian LΔt §s≈yh §k SodÒmvn, t∞w perix≈rou pãshw
kriye¤shw diå purÚw ka‹ ye¤ou, prÒdhlon poiÆsaw ı despÒthw, ˜ti toÁw
§lp¤zontaw §pÉ aÈtÚn oÈk §gkatale¤pei, toÁw d¢ •terokline›w Ípãrxontaw
efiw kÒlasin ka‹ afikismÚn t¤yhsin). Thus these examples are not sim-
ply descriptive or of passing narrative interest, but also have con-
temporary theological and paraenetic relevance for the text’s readers.
On the other hand, the comparison with 1 Clement helps us to see
an additional hermeneutical move that Heb 11 is making in the
Abraham pericope. Both texts set out a series of historical exemplars
whose laudable actions are intended for practical appropriation by
readers, both individually and communally. However, in contrast to
1 Clem. 9–13, Heb 11 also places an explicit emphasis on commu-
nity, constructing a discourse of common identity.18 Here Pamela M.
Eisenbaum has drawn attention to another function of what she terms
“a multi-dimensional hero list”: “to explain and legitimate the exis-
tence of the community which is being addressed, by grounding the
members of that community in a significant genealogical history.”19
Consequently, it is not just the figure of Abraham, or even Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob who are in view. Rather, the patriarchs function
as representatives of a much broader vision of lineage—one that
allows for the application of the sojourning motif (and also the promise
of the eschatological city introduced in Heb 11:10) beyond these
three figures to the audience who will claim this sacred history as
their own. Indeed, opening up the sojourning motif in this way
18
Here I reluctantly resort to reference to a “community” as a stylistic conven-
tion in order to highlight the social and collective implications of the rhetorical
strategy found in the text. This should in no way be equated with the standard
move so common within New Testament scholarship to imagine distinct and reified
communities each represented and reflected by a particular text—i.e., I am not
positing a “Hebrews Christianity” or even a singular “Hebrews community.” Rather,
I am using the term “community” with a view to the rhetoric’s function for com-
munal identity formation, a usage that allows for the fluidity of multiple audiences
and reading contexts.
19
Pamela M. Eisenbaum, The Jewish Heroes of Christian History: Hebrews 11 in Literary
Context (SBLDS 156; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 87.
appears to be pivotal to the text’s purposes in employing it at all,

given that this move necessarily interrupts the flow of the narrative
by introducing Isaac prior to the announcement of his miraculous
birth in Heb 11:11.20 As Eisenbaum aptly summarizes, Abraham
functions as an ideal example for what the text wants to convey:
“separation and marginalization . . . The audience is part of this tra-
jectory by implication.”21
This conclusion is confirmed and reinforced by what follows: a
series of interpretive moves that broaden the scope of Abraham’s
outsider status even further. Thus Heb 11:12 contrasts the one man,
Abraham (•nÒw), to those begotten by him: “just as the stars of heaven
in number and innumerable as the sand along the shore of the sea”
(kayΔw tå êstra toË oÈranoË t“ plÆyei ka‹ …w ≤ êmmow ≤ parå tÚ
xe›low t∞w yalãsshw ≤ énar¤ymhtow). The reference to otoi pãntew
or “all these ones” who have died in faith in Heb 11:13 continues
this broadening function.
The precise referent of this phrase is a matter of scholarly debate.
On the one hand, Harold W. Attridge is most likely correct in his
contention that otoi pãntew refers principally to the three patriarchs,
rather than all the heroes mentioned thus far (he notes that the otoi
pãntew logically could not include Enoch, who did not see death,
Heb 11:5, toË mØ fide›n yãnaton).22 On the other hand, however, we
ought to consider the possibility of some sort of link between the
otoi pãntew and the line of Abraham’s descendants referenced in
Heb 11:12. While the overall structure of Heb 11 (with its empha-
sis on individuals acting in faith) and the fact that the innumerable
descendants are only described as an objective result of Abraham’s
faith (not subjects of their own action) make it unlikely that the
descendants are meant to be the direct referent of otoi pãntew, the
immediate proximity of verses 12 and 13 leaves space for readers
to make a loose interpretive connection between the two. Therefore,
the otoi pãntew can function as a rhetorical encouragement for read-
ers (appropriating a place in this lineage as “Abraham’s descendants”)
20
The well-known debate over the textual problems of Heb 11:11 falls beyond
the scope of this inquiry.
21
Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 161.
22
See Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia:
Fortress, 1989), 329. Note Eisenbaum’s counterargument that otoi pãntew refers
to all the heroes mentioned up to this point; see Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 160–161.
to see themselves and their own community in the reinforcement of

identity that is to follow.
Thus the text moves on to disclose that the otoi pãntew are those
who died without having received the promises. Indeed they only
saw them and greeted them from a distance (Heb 11:13, mØ labÒntew
tåw §paggel¤aw éllå pÒrrvyen aÈtåw fidÒntew ka‹ éspasãmenoi). As
Attridge points out, Hebrews has already made the claim in Heb
6:15 that Abraham did in fact obtain a promise (ka‹ oÏtvw makroyu-
mÆsaw §p°tuxen t∞w §paggel¤aw).23 But this promise refers to the birth
of Isaac, a fact acknowledged by Heb 11:11–12 as well. Instead a
different promise is in view, the promise of land as put forth in Heb
11:9. Yet in Heb 11:13, the connotations of the sojourning motif
serve to shift the focus away from the specific piece of territory
known as Canaan towards a broader concept of eschatological home-
land (patr¤w), mentioned explicitly in Heb 11:14: “For those who say
such things make it clear that they are seeking a homeland” (ofl går
toiaËta l°gontew §mfan¤zousin ˜ti patr¤da §pizhtoËsin). Of course,
this patr¤w is not yet possessed. Rather the otoi pãntew confess that
they are strangers and sojourners on the earth (Heb 11:13, ka‹
ımologÆsantew ˜ti j°noi ka‹ parep¤dhmo¤ efisin §p‹ t∞w g∞w). The audi-
ence of Hebrews is meant to appropriate this communal identity.
In the larger strategy of the text, this call to take on an identity
of otherness not only resonates with but also transforms earlier parae-
nesis and identity-constructing moves that have been made. For
example, Hebrews calls its audience in chapters 3 and 4 not to be
like the generation whose corpses fell in the wilderness (Heb 3:17,
tå k«la ¶pesen §n tª §rÆmƒ). Readers are given strict warnings not
to harden their hearts (Heb 3:8, 15, mØ sklhrÊnhte tåw kard¤aw
Ím«n) and to fear lest anyone seem to have fallen short while the
promise of entering God’s rest still remains (Heb 4:1, fobhy«men
oÔn, mÆpote kataleipom°nhw §paggel¤aw efiselye›n efiw tØn katãpausin
aÈtoË dokª tiw §j Ím«n Ísterhk°nai). In Heb 4:11 the text offers a
strong thrust of exhortation: “Let us hasten then to enter into that
rest, in order that no one might fall in the same pattern of disobe-
dience” (Spoudãsvmen oÔn efiselye›n efiw §ke¤nhn tØn katãpausin, ·na
mØ §n t“ aÈt“ tiw Ípode¤gmati p°s˙ t∞w épeiye¤aw). Thus the wilder-
ness generation serves as a foil against which the text may more
23
effectively urge a different agenda for the community: to hold fast

to their confession (Heb 4:14, krat«men t∞w ımolog¤aw; Heb 10:23,
kat°xvmen tØn ımolog¤an; cf. also Heb 3:1) and enter God’s rest.
But what are the contents of this confession? The three references
given above offer little elucidation. Here again we come to a ques-
tion that has provoked much scholarly discussion. According to Alfred
Seeberg, the ımolog¤a ought to be understood as a fixed and stan-
dardized verbal confession of the community.24 Käsemann is slightly
more cautious, but does argue that “the ımolog¤a of Hebrews not
only denotes the primitive Christian liturgy of the community, but
that in addition the Christology of Hebrews represents a detailed exposition and
interpretation of the community’s liturgical ımolog¤a.”25 Attridge suggests a
profession of faith that “took place within liturgical contexts with
some formula or formulas . . . Given the prominence of the title ‘son’
in Hebrews, it is likely that the community’s confession of Jesus as
Son of God was involved.”26
Of course definitive answers to this question remain historically
inaccessible.27 But irrespective of our conclusions on this issue, we
ought to take note of the function of ımolog°v within the sojourn-
ing motif at Heb 11:13. Here the otoi pãntew (that is, Abraham,
Isaac, and Jacob—and, by extension, the audience of Hebrews) con-
fess that they are strangers and sojourners on the earth. This is not
to push Attridge’s theory so far as to posit a liturgical formula within
Hebrews’ community that involved identification of the community
as strangers and sojourners (although the possibility should not be
ruled out). Rather, it is to suggest that the use of confession lan-
guage in Heb 11:13 resonates backwards to the earlier uses of ımolog¤a
in the text, allowing the audience to reimagine the contents of their
confession in light of their identity as strangers and sojourners on
the earth.
Thus holding fast (Heb 4:14, krat«men; Heb 10:23, kat°xvmen)
now becomes not simply about dogged perseverance in the face of
24
Alfred Seeberg, Der Brief an die Hebräer (Leipzig: Quelle u. Meyer, 1912), 32.
25
Käsemann, Wandering, 171. Emphasis original.
26
Attridge, Hebrews, 108. See also Craig R. Koester, Hebrews: A New Translation
with Introduction and Commentary (AB 36; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 126–127.
27
Although of the three hypotheses, Attridge’s seems most defensible, especially
given Hebrews’ concluding reference to “the fruit of lips that confess his name”
(Heb 13:15, karpÚn xeil°vn ımologoÊntvn t“ ÙnÒmati aÈtoË).
perceived oppression or continued assent to certain christological

propositions but also about embracing a certain understanding of
social identity—choosing to identify with a community that classifies
itself as outsiders. According to Craig R. Koester, the text uses the
earlier calls to hold fast in order to “bolster commitments by affirming
the confession that gave the group its identity.”28 Consequently, by
linking the language of confession to the motif of sojourning, Hebrews
is able to utilize this carefully engineered construction of its audi-
ence’s marginal status as a powerful means of promoting solidarity
(even as the Latter-Day Saints used their outsider status to construct
a strong sense of “insiderness”).
In a similar way, the various metaphors of entrance used earlier
in the text are also transformed. The construction of Hebrews’ audi-
ence as a community of strangers and sojourners serves to reposition
them as a group in relation to the text’s previous metaphors. Indeed,
within the metaphorical space set up by Heb 3 and 4, the com-
munity stands on the edge of the eschatological promised land, and
their window of opportunity for entrance into God’s rest remains
(see Heb 4:1, 6). They are called to approach the throne of grace
with boldness (Heb 4:16, proserx≈meya oÔn metå parrhs¤aw t“ yrÒnƒ
t∞w xãritow), possessors of a hope that enters inside the curtain (Heb
6:19, efiserxom°nhn efiw tÚ §s≈teron toË katapetãsmatow). In fact, the
audience not only possesses this hope, but they have actually obtained
an entrance into the sanctuary for themselves through the blood of
Jesus (Heb 10:19, tØn e‡sodon t«n èg¤vn §n t“ a·mati ÉIhsoË).
Yet ironically enough, due to the text’s deployment of the sojourn-
ing motif, “entrance” is now to be understood through solidarity
with a community of outsiders. By verbally appropriating a self-
designation as strangers and sojourners (i.e., the transformed notion
of confession that we see in Heb 11:14: ofl går toiaËta l°gontew),
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, along with the community that they
represent rhetorically, “make it clear that they seek a homeland”
(Heb 11:14, §mfan¤zousin ˜ti patr¤da §pizhtoËsin). The text main-
tains that this “sojourner status” is one that is voluntarily assumed.
Indeed, if these people had been reminiscing about the land from
which they went out, they would have had opportunity to return
(Heb 11:15, efi m¢n §ke¤nhw §mnhmÒneuon éfÉ ∏w §j°bhsan, e‰xon ín
28
Koester, Hebrews, 293.
kairÚn énakãmcai). But the strangers and sojourners do not seek to

return.29 The paradox implied through such a construction of their
communal identity is that only as outsiders will they obtain the
entrance that they seek: a better homeland, a heavenly one (Heb
11:16, kre¤ttonow . . . §pouran¤ou).
Thus there is a place of “true citizenship” for Christians, a locale
in which their insider status is recognized and assured. The text will
partially clarify the eschatological details of how entrance to this
heavenly homeland is gained in what follows (see below). However,
the rhetorical emphasis remains on the outsider position of Christians
in the present moment—insider status defined in alien terms. With
this paradox in place, the explicit use of alien rhetoric draws to a
close, via an appeal designed to reinforce and encourage solidarity:
God is not ashamed to be called these people’s God for he has pre-
pared a city for them (Heb 11:16, diÚ oÈk §paisxÊnetai aÈtoÁw ı
yeÚw yeÚw §pikale›syai aÈt«n: ≤to¤masen går aÈto›w pÒlin).
3. A Hermeneutical Turn: Heb 13:13 and Ancient Cultic Discourse
Although the overt use of alien language ends here,30 the motif con-
tinues to reverberate as a subtext throughout the rest of Heb 11
(and also the remainder of the text). Overall Eisenbaum has con-
vincingly argued that outsiderness is “the most fundamental charac-
teristic of the heroes of Hebrews.”31 This can be seen in multiple
ways. Moses is constructed as a hero who chose outsider status (Heb
11:25–26, mçllon •lÒmenow sugkakouxe›syai t“ la“ toË yeoË . . . tÚn
ÙneidismÚn toË XristoË) over the pleasures of a symbolic “citizen-
ship” (i.e., the treasures of Egypt, t«n AfigÊptou yhsaur«n) because
he was looking ahead to his reward (tØn misyapodos¤an).32 Similarly,
the finale of Heb 11 crescendos to a feverish pitch as it depicts the
sufferings of the faithful and culminates in a vivid and evocative
description of marginalization: “they went around in sheepskins, in
29
Note the contrast between the nuance of Heb 11:15 and that of a Platonic-
Philonic trajectory in which emphasis is placed on the return of the sojourning soul
to the heavenly homeland from which it set out.
30
With the exception of Heb 13:2—see discussion below.
31
Eisenbaum, Jewish Heroes, 184.
32
Here “reward” functions analogously to the various “entrance” metaphors
already utilized—i.e., one gains it through solidarity with the text’s constructed
margins.
goat skins, in need, afflicted, ill-treated—of these people the world

was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains and
caves and holes in the ground” (Heb 11:37–38, peri∞lyon §n mhlvta›w,
§n afige¤oiw d°rmasin, ÍsteroÊmenoi, ylibÒmenoi, kakouxoÊmenoi, œn
oÈk ∑n êjiow ı kÒsmow, §p‹ §rhm¤aiw plan≈menoi ka‹ ˆresin ka‹
sphla¤oiw ka‹ ta›w Ùpa›w t∞w g∞w).
Here again the solidarity of the current audience with those who
have chosen this outsider status is reiterated. The heroes of Heb 11
do not achieve their entrance. As the chapter closes, they have not
received the promise (Heb 11:39, oÈk §kom¤santo tØn §paggel¤an).
The text implies to its audience that God’s better thing (Heb 11:40,
kre›ttÒn ti) very much depends on them, because without their sol-
idarity, this community of past “strangers and sojourners” will not
be made perfect (Heb 11:40, ·na mØ xvr‹w ≤m«n teleivy«sin). Heb-
rews’ readers are called to put aside every impediment and easily
besetting sin (Heb 12:1, ˆgkon époy°menoi pãnta ka‹ tØn eÈper¤sta-
ton èmart¤an), to run the race set before them (Heb 12:1, tr°xvmen
tÚn proke¤menon ≤m›n ég«na), and to look to Jesus in order not to
grow weary (Heb 12:2–3, éfor«ntew efiw tÚn t∞w p¤stevw érxhgÚn ka‹
teleivtØn ÉIhsoËn . . . ·na mØ kãmhte). Only through these steps of
identification with those sojourners who have gone before—a delib-
erate positioning of the Christian self as other—will entrance be
obtained for all.
Thus in chapter 12, Hebrews moves back into spatial metaphors,
contrasting what the community has not approached—that which
can be touched and a kindled fire and darkness and gloom and
storm (Heb 12:18, chlafvm°nƒ ka‹ kekaum°nƒ pur‹ ka‹ gnÒfƒ ka‹
zÒfƒ ka‹ yu°ll˙)—with what they have approached: Mount Zion
and a city of the living God, heavenly Jerusalem (Heb 12:22, SiΔn
ˆrei ka‹ pÒlei yeoË z«ntow, ÉIerousalØm §pouran¤ƒ).33 Here again the
language of entrance is not far from view. But what is the way of
this approach? How does the audience come to the heavenly moun-
tain and the pÒliw of the living God?
We do not receive an answer to this question until the final chap-
ter of the text:34
33
This appeal to a pÒliw resonates with the notion of a “true citizenship” that
seems implicit in the discussion found in Heb 11:16.
34
The contention of some scholars that Heb 13 is a secondary addition remains
unconvincing, especially given key aspects of literary unity such as will be exam-
ined below. For a brief overview, see Attridge, Hebrews, 384–385.
Do not be carried away by various strange teachings; for it is good

that the heart be made firm by grace, not by foods, which have not
benefited those who conduct themselves [in this way]. We have an
altar from which those who serve in the tent do not have authority
to eat. For the bodies of animals whose blood is brought into the sanc-
tuary as a sin offering by the high priest are burned outside the camp.
Therefore Jesus also suffered outside the gate in order that he might
sanctify the people through his own blood. Consequently, let us go to him
outside the camp, bearing his reproach. For here we do not have an
enduring city; rather we seek after that city which is to come. Through
him let us always offer up a sacrifice of praise to God; this is the fruit
of lips which confess his name. Do not neglect well-doing and fellowship;
for God is delighted with such sacrifices. (Heb 13:9–16, italics added)
Here Hebrews takes a key hermeneutical turn: the call to go to Jesus
outside the camp, bearing his reproach (Heb 13:13, ¶jv t∞w parem-
bol∞w tÚn ÙneidismÚn aÈtoË f°rontew) serves as the overt lens through
which all the previous paraenesis of the text is refracted. That is to
say, Heb 13:13 functions hermeneutically to transform the text’s
paraenesis. How is the audience to hold fast, approach, and enter?
These are metaphors steeped in the language of insider status—yet
they must now be appropriated through identification with the mar-
gins (i.e., by going to Jesus outside the camp). The text’s final word
on drawing near does not emphasize joining Jesus in the heavenly
sanctuary (Heb 9:24) but rather joining him in identification with
alterity and reproach. It is the strangers and sojourners who will
experience entrance into the city that is to come.35
Yet at the same time, this crucial hermeneutical move takes place
in a specific context—a larger discussion that makes extensive use of
cultic imagery (Heb 13:9–16). Here the text plays with the lxx’s
conceptual categories of the Levitical cult, drawing a strong contrast
between Levitical cultic practice and the sacrifice of Jesus. Thus
Attridge characterizes Heb 13:11 (“For the bodies of animals whose
blood is brought into the sanctuary as a sin offering by the high
priest are burned outside the camp,” œn går efisf°retai z–vn tÚ aÂma
per‹ èmart¤aw efiw tå ëgia diå toË érxier°vw, toÊtvn tå s≈mata
kataka¤etai ¶jv t∞w parembol∞w) as a “generalizing paraphrase” of
the portion of the Yom Kippur ritual described in Lev 16:27–28:36
35
Feldmeier’s evaluation of a similar paradox with respect to 1 Peter seems appo-
site here as well: “The terms for foreignness, clearly negative from their origin,
when revalued and preserved as a specific expression of Christian identity . . . gain
positive, even elitist overtones.” See Feldmeier, “‘Nation’ of Strangers,” 258.
36
ka‹ tÚn mÒsxon tÚn per‹ t∞w èmart¤aw ka‹ tÚn x¤maron tÚn per‹ t∞w
èmart¤aw, œn tÚ aÂma efishn°xyh §jilãsasyai §n t“ èg¤ƒ, §jo¤sousin aÈtå
¶jv t∞w parembol∞w ka‹ katakaÊsousin aÈtå §n pur¤, ka‹ tå d°rmata
aÈt«n ka‹ tå kr°a aÈt«n ka‹ tØn kÒpron aÈt«n: ı d¢ kataka¤vn aÈtå
plune› tå flmãtia ka‹ loÊsetai tÚ s«ma aÈtoË Ïdati ka‹ metå taËta
efiseleÊsetai efiw tØn parembolÆn
So the young bull of the sin offering and the goat of the sin offering,
whose blood was brought in to be an appeasement in the sanctuary,
will be brought outside the camp and they will be burned in the fire,
even their skin and their meat and their dung. The one who burns
them will wash his clothes and bathe his body with water and after
these things, he will come into the camp.
Helmut Koester’s work on Heb 13 clearly demonstrates the way in
which this textual contrast operates:37
Leviticus: Whoever performs the burning outside the camp is unclean.
Hebrews: Jesus suffered outside the gate in order to sanctify the people.
Leviticus: After being sanctified he may enter the camp again.
Hebrews: Let us go out to him outside of the camp to bear his reproach.
Formulated in this way, we can see how Hebrews reworks elements
of the Levitical tradition to highlight the cleansing function of Jesus’
sacrifice—thereby shifting the role of the space ¶jv t∞w parembol∞w.
In this reading of the Levitical mandate, ¶jv t∞w parembol∞w is trans-
formed: what was once a place which created a need for cleansing
prior to one’s return inside has now become the site of the sacrifice
that actually brings about the people’s purification.
Scholars have understood the significance of this reinterpretation
of Levitical tradition in a number of ways. One option is to read
this passage as an allegory, privileging otherworldliness (i.e., soul over
body), and often associated with Philo.38 Thus James Moffatt argues
that this text “makes a broad appeal for an unworldly religious fel-
lowship, such as is alone in keeping with the xãriw of God in Jesus
our Lord.”39 The other major alternative is to interpret the appeal
to join Jesus ¶jv t∞w parembol∞w as a call to leave Judaism. According
to this argument, as F. F. Bruce maintains, “the ‘camp’ stands for
37
Helmut Koester, “‘Outside The Camp’: Hebrews 13.9–14,” HTR 55 (1962): 300.
38
Cf. Philo, Ebr. 100; Gig. 54; Leg. 2.54–55; Det. 160.
39
James Moffatt, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews
(New York: Scribner’s, 1924), 235. See also, as representative: Herbert Braun, An
die Hebräer (HNT 14; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 467; Gerd Theissen, Unter-
suchungen zum Hebräerbrief (StNT 2; Gütersloh: Mohn, 1969), 104.
the established fellowship and ordinances of Judaism. To abandon

them, with all their sacred associations inherited from remote antiq-
uity, was a hard thing, but it was a necessary thing.”40
Helmut Koester has argued against both these interpretive tra-
jectories, suggesting that the contrast is not Philonic or anti-Jewish
but rather an “anticultic antithesis”: “And since the refuge in sacred
places and cultic performances is abolished for those people who
stay ‘outside the camp’ with Jesus, the sacrifices of God are rather
thanksgiving and charity (Hebrews 13, 15–16).”41 As Attridge observes,
the connection between strange teachings and food in Heb 13:9
(didaxa›w poik¤laiw ka‹ j°naiw mØ paraf°resye: kalÚn går xãriti
bebaioËsyai tØn kard¤an, oÈ br≈masin §n oÂw oÈk »felÆyhsan ofl
peripatoËntew) is most likely inspired by some sort of cultic dining.42
This would certainly seem to be sound textual support for Koester’s
position. However, even if Koester is correct that the contrast being
articulated in Heb 13:9–16 places its primary emphasis on the gen-
erally anti-cultic rather than the specifically anti-Jewish or the Philonic,
this interpretive solution does not necessarily exhaust the potential
function of cultic discourse in the text.
Thus as we think about possible readers and audiences for Hebrews
in the late first century, we ought to analyze the rhetorical strategy
of Heb 13:9–16 not only in terms of the text’s intended emphasis
(Philonic otherworldliness, anti-Jewish, anti-cultic, etc.) but also in
terms of the larger fields of connotation/contestation at play in the
Roman Empire—fields in which an audience might locate this par-
ticular use of cultic discourse as it could be put to work for the
larger purposes of early Christian identity formation. (Indeed it is
not simply my personal methodological orientation that necessitates
this move to readers and multiple interpretive possibilities; rather,
the possibility of various interpretations seems to be an actual part
of the text’s strategy, characterized by Attridge in terms of its “de-
liberate ambiguity.”43) To put it simply, what sorts of work could
40
F. F. Bruce, The Epistle to the Hebrews (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964),
403. Other representative examples include Floyd V. Filson, ‘Yesterday’: A Study of
Hebrews in the Light of Chapter 13 (Naperville, Ill.: Alec R. Allenson, 1967), 60–65;
Philip E. Hughes, A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1977), 580.
41
Koester, “‘Outside,’” 303.
42
See the full discussion in Attridge, Hebrews, 394–396.
43
discussions of cult do in ancient projects of identity construction?

Here an analogous example from Roman antiquity proves illus-
trative. Cultic practice and discourse were ubiquitous in the Roman
world, “intertwined with every group, each level of a city’s social
existence.”44 Particularly relevant for our purposes is the discourse
surrounding cults labeled as “foreign”—that is, in some way exterior
with respect to a perceived normative center of so-called “Roman-
ness” across the empire. On the one hand, the marker stones of the
pomerium (the sacred boundary of the city of Rome) provided a phys-
ical boundary that helped to construct and maintain a “definitional
myth”: foreign cultic practice could not take place inside the city’s
sacred boundary.45 Yet on the other hand, the temple of Magna
Mater, a cult that represented the quintessentially “foreign,” could
be incorporated within the pomerium such that the exotic castrated
galli became, in Mary Beard’s apt phrase, “the Roman emperor’s
closest neighbors” on the Palatine Hill.46
In trying to understand the relationship between cult and outsider
status with reference to Magna Mater (and foreign cults more gen-
erally), scholars have typically posited two possible solutions: either
the Romans gradually domesticated foreign cults (thereby eradicat-
ing their foreignness), or they were simply ignorant of the truly for-
eign nature of these cults prior to incorporation.47 In response to
44
Robin L. Fox, Pagans and Christians (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1986), 89.
45
Here Beard et al. offer the example of Augustus “banning Egyptian rites within
the pomerium—so ‘restoring’ (or maybe ‘inventing’) a principle that the worship of
foreign gods should not occur within the sacred boundary of Rome”; Mary Beard
et al., Religions of Rome (2 vols.; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998),
1:180. We also ought to note that the Roman coloniae in the first and second cen-
turies ce modeled their own religious institutions on those of the capital, including
the establishment of a sacred boundary. See Beard et al., Religions of Rome, 1:328–329.
Thus the connotative significance of the pomerium would have extended far beyond
the city of Rome itself.
46
Mary Beard, “The Roman and the Foreign: The Cult of the ‘Great Mother’
In Imperial Rome,” in Shamanism, History and the State (ed. Nicholas Thomas and
Caroline Humphrey; Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1994), 181.
47
For the former option, see the approach in Cyril Bailey, Phases in the Religion
of Ancient Rome (Westport, Conn.: Greenwood, 1972), 183. The latter position is well
expressed by Maarten J. Vermaseren: “The Romans had brought their ancestral
Goddess [i.e., ‘ancestral’ in light of Rome’s traditional connection to Troy] to the
new country and provided her with proper accommodation, only then to discover
how widely and profoundly their own attitude differed from the Asian mentality.
They were shocked by the Eastern rites, with their loud ululations and wild dances,
with their entrancing rhythms, which by pipe and tambourine whipped up the peo-
ple into ecstasies of bloody self-flagellation and self-injury.” Maarten J. Vermaseren,
this dichotomy, Mary Beard has argued convincingly that these

conflicting aspects of discourse surrounding Roman attitudes towards
“foreign” cults (evidenced by both archeological remains and texts)
should not be primarily understood in terms of either option, but
rather in terms of unresolved tension. Thus Beard sees foreign cultic
discourse as a rhetorical site for struggles of identity formation; in
this case, on “the nature of ‘Roman-ness’: on what it was to be
Roman and on what could count as Roman religious experience
[during the first centuries of the Common Era]—in the context of
a huge and ethnically diverse empire.”48
As we turn back to the use of cultic imagery in Heb 13:9–16, I
wish to be explicit about the purpose of this example, clarifying
exactly what I am trying to do (and not to do). The point is not to
compare Magna Mater (or any other so-called “mystery religion”)
to early Christianity. It is not to draw an explicit historical parallel
between the insider/outsider boundary of the pomerium and the plac-
ing of Jesus and Hebrews’ audience outside an insider/outsider bound-
ary in Heb 13:13.49 Nor does this analogy necessitate following current
scholarly trends to locate Hebrews in the city of Rome.50 Indeed,
while I am quite sympathetic to this position, locating the text any
more specifically than in the Roman Empire in the late first cen-
tury ce is irrelevant to the point I seek to make here.
Instead, I wish to highlight how Beard’s creative approach to a
scholarly dichotomy that posits gradual domestication or ignorance
of a cult’s foreign nature as the only two options proves illuminating
to the binary opposition between literal anti-Jewish/anti-cultic antithe-
sis and allegorical Philonic otherworldliness so often used to inter-
pret Heb 13:9–16. That is to say, we do not necessarily have to
read the contrast in this passage between the Levitical cult and the
sacrifice of Jesus as either definitively anti-cultic or definitively alle-
gorical/symbolic (with respect to the soul in the world) and nothing
Cybele and Attis: The Myth and the Cult (trans. A. M. H. Lemmers; London: Thames
and Hudson, 1977), 96. See also: Franz Cumont, The Oriental Religions in Roman
Paganism (New York: Dover, 1956), 51–53; John Ferguson, The Religions of the Roman
Empire (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1970), 27; Howard H. Scullard, Festivals
and Ceremonies of the Roman Republic (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1981), 21.
48
Beard, “Roman and the Foreign,” 166.
49
Although this parallel remains a tantalizing possibility whose further explo-
ration might prove illuminating.
50
See discussion in Attridge, Hebrews, 9–13.
more. Rather we ought to note how the text picks up the same two
motifs which Beard highlights with reference to Magna Mater—cul-
tic discourse and outsider status—and uses their intersection in a
different way.
Whereas Roman literary elites used the foreign cult of Cybele as
a rhetorical site for working out the nature of “Roman-ness,” leav-
ing the issue of the cult’s foreignness in unresolved tension, Heb 13
is definitive on the issue of outsider status, calling its audience to
actively take on an alien or “foreign” identity by going to Jesus out-
side the camp; at the same time, it allows the question of cultic prac-
tice to remain in unresolved tension. On the one hand, then, the
text offers an objection to teachings in some sense connected to food
in Heb 13:9, as well as apparently metaphorical interpretations of
“sacrifices” in Heb 13:15–16. However, on the other hand, it gives
an ambiguous but nonetheless decidedly positive characterization of
the Christians’ altar (yusiastÆrion) in Heb 13:10.51 Thus cultic dis-
course in this pericope functions as a rhetorical site for working out
a certain notion of “Christian-ness”—a conception of early Christian
identity whose accent falls on embracing outsider status—rather than
a clear and unambiguous stance on a certain type of Christian cul-
tic practice (or lack thereof ).
Therefore, the appeal to cultic imagery in Heb 13:9–16 does not
necessarily function solely to allegorize or polemicize against cultic
practice. Rather it places the text’s critical project of identity for-
mation in a larger connotative cultural context, one that would not
have been limited to the scriptures of Israel for any given early
Christian audience (despite the fact that Heb 13:9–16 relies heavily
on the language and categories of Levitical tradition found in the
lxx). As noted above, cultic practice and discourse were to be found
everywhere in the ancient Mediterranean. Due to this ubiquity, across
the Roman Empire, “religion was, and remained, good to think
with,” as Mary Beard points out.52 Thus the intersection of ancient
discourses on cult and foreign/alien/outsider status provided a site
for diverse groups—not only elites interacting with Magna Mater in
Rome but also early Christians—to construct and solidify boundaries
51
Suggestions for the referent of this yusiastÆrion have included the Eucharist,
the cross (or Christ’s death), and the heavenly sanctuary of Heb 8–9. See discus-
sion in Koester, Hebrews, 568–569.
52
Beard et al., Religions of Rome, 1:166.
of communal identity amidst the disorienting heterogeneity of the

Roman world.
In Heb 13:9–16, then, we see the culmination of a project of
identity construction that enters this larger conversation (at least from
the reference-point of potential ancient audiences), while still mak-
ing use of rhetoric and images associated with the Levitical tradi-
tion. The result, as discussed above, is a metaphorical movement to
the periphery, effected in the life of the community through embrac-
ing a self-identification of alien status. One goes to Jesus outside the
camp by appropriating an identity of communal “other-ness” (vis-à-
vis not simply “Judaism” but amidst the much broader diversity and
fluidity of socio-religious identities available in antiquity), and then
re-interpreting and implementing the exhortations of the text from
that “marginal” position. These exhortations include not just the
paraenetic metaphors discussed above (urging the audience to enter
and draw near), but also the very concrete directives found in Heb
13:1–7. Therefore the call to go “outside the camp” does not sim-
ply orient the readers towards an otherworldly city; rather, the con-
cern extends to matters of tangible everyday life.
Seemingly traditional directives—exhortations to hospitality, care
for prisoners, marital purity, finances, and imitating community leader-
ship—are transformed by the call to go outside the camp. That is
to say, these directives (read in the light of Heb 13:13) serve to con-
stitute communal behavior in such a way as to reinforce the audience’s
radical sense of itself at the margins of society, while at the same
time advocating a not particularly radical course of conduct—cer-
tainly not one that undermines broader social stability in any significant
way.53 As Helmut Koester has pointed out, “for Hebrews, ‘outside
the camp’ is identical with the worldliness of the world itself.”54
Indeed, nothing in these exhortations indicates radical or subver-
sive engagement with the larger society. Rather, our analysis of the
alien rhetoric in Hebrews has shown the function of this rhetoric to
construct a usable social identity (to borrow Moore’s phrase) for early
Christian communities. The discourse of alien identity found in
53
Much could be said that falls beyond the limited scope of this article in terms
of detailed exegesis of these directives. But in general, it seems best to group the
various paraenetic directives of Heb 13:1–9 loosely under the kind of common wis-
dom and values found in Greco-Roman, Jewish and early Christian moralists. See
the approach in Attridge, Hebrews, 386–388.
54
Koester, “‘Outside,’” 302.
Hebrews performed a specific function with respect to identity for-

mation for the communities that put it to work: it allowed certain
groups of early Christians to conceptualize and maintain their own
distinctive insider status within the vast cultural field of cultic iden-
tities in the Roman Empire, while at the same time leaving the issue
of actual cultic practice in unresolved tension.55 This was done para-
doxically by using a rhetoric of outsiderness, rooted in a collective
memory of Abraham and other great heroes of the faith. Thus con-
crete directives for communal behavior could be read through the
lens of this alien status, thereby promoting and reinforcing the com-
munity’s understanding of its own distinctiveness within the larger
Roman society, and simultaneously maintaining its connection to
Hebrew epic and its affirmation of traditional mores.
Benjamin Dunning
Ph.D. Candidate
Harvard University, Graduate School of Arts and Sciences
Committee on the Study of Religion
12 Quincy Street, Cambridge, Mass. 02138, U.S.A.
[email protected]
55
Here I hope to have distanced myself from other scholarly treatments of this
motif in early Christianity that understand the use of alien rhetoric singularly as a
secondary response to a primary historical given—whether that be the socio-legal
status of a community, a way of making meaning out of society’s persecution, or
even the failure of the parousia. See for example Arowele, “Pilgrim People,” 438–55;
Elliott, Home for the Homeless; Feldmeier, “‘Nation’ of Strangers,” 247–270.
REFLECTIONS OF RHETORICAL
TERMINOLOGY IN HEBREWS
Hermut Löhr1
1. Introductory Remarks
Rhetorical analysis of New Testament texts has gained renewed inter-

est in the last two or three decades. For the letters of the Apostle
Paul, the studies of Hans Dieter Betz on Galatians2 and Folker Siegert
on Rom 9–113 remain the starting points of a new era of research,
which can be subsumed under the heading of “rhetorical criticism.”
In this context it is noteworthy that the names mentioned repre-
sent different approaches to the subject: whereas Betz re-introduced
the use of the categories of classical Greek and Roman rhetoric and
epistolography into historical-critical exegesis of the New Testament
writings, Siegert’s inspiring book is mainly interested in the analysis
of argumentation and relies on the so-called nouvelle rhétorique initi-
ated by Chaïm Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca.4 But, as Carl
J. Classen has correctly pointed out in several articles,5 rhetorical
criticism is of course not an invention of twentieth-century exegesis.
It picks up and modifies older traditions and interests of biblical
studies. One noteworthy name, which should be cited in this con-
text for the sake of example, is that of Philipp Melanchthon.6 Many
more could be adduced.
1
I thank my brother Winrich A. Löhr for revising a first draft of this paper.
2
Hans Dieter Betz, “The Literary Composition and Function of Paul’s Letter to
the Galatians,” NTS 21 (1975): 353–379; idem, Galatians: A Commentary on Paul’s Letter
to the Churches in Galatia (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979).
3
Folker Siegert, Argumentation bei Paulus, gezeigt an Röm 9–11 (WUNT 34; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 1985).
4
Cf. Chaïm Perelman, La nouvelle rhétorique (Paris: Presses universitaires de France,
1958); Chaïm Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca, Rhétorique et philosophie: pour une
théorie de l’argumentation en philosophie (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1952).
5
Classen’s major contributions to the subject are conveniently gathered in Carl
J. Classen, Rhetorical Criticism of the New Testament (WUNT 128; Tübingen: Mohr
Siebeck, 2000).
6
Philipp Melanchthon, Römerbrief-Kommentar 1532 (ed. Rolf Schäfer; vol. 5 of
Melanchthons Werke in Auswahl, ed. Robert Stupperich; Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus
Gerd Mohn, 1965).
200 hermut löhr
Since the re-appearance of rhetorical criticism on the agenda of

biblical studies, traditional Greek and Roman rhetorical categories
have also made their way into the exegesis of Hebrews. Barnabas
Lindars, for example, in a paper presented at the 1988 SNTS meet-
ing, described Hebrews as a piece of deliberative rhetoric.7 In the
following year, Walter G. Übelacker was innovative in combining
different approaches to describe the genre and intention of Hebrews,
among them rhetorical criticism and some aspects of the nouvelle rhé-
torique.8 Four years later, Thomas Olbricht tried to show in an arti-
cle that the comparative argumentation of Hebrews can be described
with the Aristotelian category of auxesis.9 Although chiefly concerned
with discourse analysis, David A. deSilva, in a dissertation published
in 1995, is strongly interested in the rhetorical aspects of Hebrews.10
Recent commentaries on Hebrews, such as those of William L. Lane11
and Craig R. Koester,12 devote some pages to the results of rhetor-
ical criticism on our text. The most recent German-language com-
mentary on Hebrews, by Martin Karrer, is more fundamentally based
on a rhetorical analysis of the text.13 But we could mention more
and earlier titles, which—without using the heading of rhetorical crit-
icism—were very well aware of the rhetorical skill and techniques
used in Hebrews.14
7
Barnabas Lindars, “The Rhetorical Structure of Hebrews,” NTS 35 (1989):
383. Without discussing Lindars’ arguments, Harold W. Attridge (The Epistle to the
Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews [Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress,
1989], 14) labels Hebrews as “clearly an epideictic oration.”
8
Walter G. Übelacker, Der Hebräerbrief als Appell: I. Untersuchungen zu exordium,
narratio und postscriptum (Hebr 1–2 und 13,22–25) (ConBNT 21; Lund: Almqvist &
Wiksell, 1989).
9
Thomas H. Olbricht, “Hebrews as Amplification,” in Rhetoric and the New
Testament: Essays from the 1992 Heidelberg Conference (ed. Stanley E. Porter and Thomas
H. Olbricht, JSNTSup 90, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 375–387. Like
Attridge (Hebrews, 14), Olbricht considers Hebrews to be an example of epideictic
rhetoric. More specifically, he sees structural analogies between Hebrews and funeral
speeches in antiquity (378–381).
10
David A. deSilva, Despising Shame: Honor Discourse and Community Maintenance in
the Epistle to the Hebrews (SBLDS 152, Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1995). Cf. also his
recent commentary: idem, Perseverance in Gratitude: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on the
Epistle “to the Hebrews” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000).
11
William L. Lane, Hebrews 1–8 (WBC 47a; Dallas: Word Books, 1991), lxxv–lxxx.
12
Craig R. Koester, Hebrews: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB
36; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 87–92, 92–96 for language and style, also reveal-
ing some aspects of the structure of argumentation.
13
Martin Karrer, Der Brief an die Hebräer: Kapitel 1,1–5,10 (ÖTK 20/1; Gütersloh:
Gütersloher Verlagshaus; Würzburg: Echter, 2002).
14
Some indications of older attempts to find a rhetorical structure in Hebrews
reflections of rhetorical terminology in hebrews 201
The categories used in the rhetorical criticism of the New Testament

are basically descriptive ones. As Classen pointed out in an article orig-
inally published in German in 1991, the self-limitation of Betz, who
refers exclusively to the categories and terminology of classical rhetoric,
is therefore not cogent. Any attempt and any terminology, whether
recent or old, may be useful for describing the strategy and the
rhetorical means of a given text. This is the reason why, in my view,
Siegert’s more open approach to Paul is also more illuminating than
Betz’s, when it comes to simply understanding the text and grasp-
ing its techniques. Though there are certainly unresolved questions,
to learn about the structure of the text and its argumentative strate-
gies we can refer to a number of thorough, though often contro-
versial, exegetical works.
Nevertheless, there is a good historical reason to retain the cate-
gories and terminology of classical rhetoric for contemporary criti-
cal exegesis: it could and should be asked whether the authors of
our texts made conscious use of the current rhetorical conventions or
handbooks, or if they simply used rhetorical devices without being
aware of conventions or the norms of rhetorical theory. To decide
on this question, the use of rhetorical termini technici would be a sound
argument in favor of the former assumption. Whereas this task has
convincingly been carried out for Paul by Classen,15 we still lack, as
far as I can see, a similar systematic investigation into the Epistle to
the Hebrews. The following observations try to show the fruitfulness
of this approach for the understanding of Hebrews.
My argument here is a cumulative one. As is true for all other
New Testament or other early Christian writings, Hebrews is not a
rhetorical handbook. So we cannot expect a technical use of rhetor-
ical terminology in the strict sense. We will not come across definitions
or discussions focusing on rhetoric and its categories. The phrases
and expressions I have selected can certainly be understood without
any reference to the language of rhetoric. But taken together they
might provoke—and indeed they did provoke in me—the impression
that our author could have used them consciously, being well aware
of their rhetorical background. This is why I speak of “reflections”
are given by Hans-Friedrich Weiss, Der Brief an die Hebräer (KEK 13; Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 50–51 n. 32.
15
Carl J. Classen, “Paul and the Terminology of Ancient Greek Rhetoric,” in
Classen, Rhetorical Criticism, 29–44.
202 hermut löhr
of rhetorical language. If this result could generally be accepted, it

would give us some insight into the cultural knowledge of our unknown
author.
2. Reflections of Rhetorical Terminology
As a first example, I cite Heb 8:1:16

Kefãlaion d¢ §p‹ to›w legom°noiw, toioËton ¶xomen érxier°a, ˘w §kãyisen
§n dejiò toË yrÒnou t∞w megalvsÊnhw §n to›w oÈrano›w.
The main point among the things mentioned: we have such a high
priest, who has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of the
Majesty in the heavens.
With this phrase, the text sums up arguments of the preceding chap-
ters, especially of Heb 7, on the heavenly high priest. At the same
time it announces a new subject, that of the two tents, further devel-
oped in Heb 9. It is the expression kefãlaion d¢ §p‹ to›w legom°noiw
which signals the textual function of the following lines as a sum of
the things said (note: legom°noiw, not gegramm°noiw!) before. Searching
kefãlaion in the current dictionaries17 informs us about similar expres-
sions with a comparable textual function in Greek literature from
Plato onwards. So in the present context kefãlaion could be cer-
tainly a current and non-technical word. In the New Testament, it
occurs only twice, in Hebrews and in Acts 22:28, in a totally non-
argumentative context.
But there is more. While Classen—in his article mentioned above—
has amply demonstrated the obvious rhetorical implications of the
verb énakefalaioËn in Rom 13:9,18 we could add that the common
terminus kefãlaion itself is also used in rhetorical handbooks, espe-
cially for a series of arguments in deliberative speech. From Isocrates
and Anaximenes of Lampsakos onward the rhetors reflected on these
16
All citations from the New Testament are taken from: Barbara Aland and
Kurt Aland et al., eds., Novum Testamentum Graece (27th ed.; Stuttgart: Deutsche
Bibelgesellschaft, 1993). All translations—including those from non-biblical sources—
are mine.
17
Cf. e.g., Walter Bauer, Griechisch-deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen
Testaments und der frühchristlichen Literatur (ed. Kurt Aland and Barbara Aland; 6th rev.
ed.; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1988), 874; LSJ, 944.
18
Classen, “Terminology,” 30.
main arguments.19 Anaximenes himself enumerates d¤kaion, nÒmimon,

sumf°ron, kalÒn, ≤dÊ, and =ãdion.20 Later on, these arguments bore
different names; e.g., they were called the t°lh by Aristotle (Rhet.
1.3.5 [1358b]) and the telikå kefãlaia by Hermogenes of Tarsus
(born ca. 161 ce).21
For the rhetor Theodorus (first century bce), cited by Quintilian,
Inst. 3.6.2 (cf. 3.11.3 and 3.11.27), the caput, ad quod referantur omnia,
is the kefãlaion genik≈taton, the fundamental question in a given
law case. Kefãlaion thus replaces the more common terminus techni-
cus stãsiw (Latin status) in the language of rhetoric.
With this in mind as we turn back to the context of Heb 8, we
can note that the verses that follow are not just a summary of things
already said, but provide the starting point of a new argument. So
here kefãlaion might not mean “the sum” or “the gist,” but “the
main argument.” Considering the possibility of a technical use of the
word can lead us to a new interpretation in its actual textual context.
In the same context we come across the expression énagka›on
(“necessary”). Hebrews 8:3 explains why every high priest needs a
sacrifice: this is énagka›on, because it is the function of the high
priest to offer goods and sacrifices:
Pçw går érxiereÁw efiw tÚ prosf°rein d«rã te ka‹ yus¤aw kay¤statai:
˜yen énagka›on ¶xein ti ka‹ toËton ˘ prosen°gk˙.
For every high priest is appointed to offer gifts and sacrifices. Therefore
it is necessary that he has something to offer.
19
For more detailed information, cf. Joseph Martin, Antike Rhetorik: Technik und
Methode (HAW 2/3; Munich: Beck, 1974), 169–170. Still most useful for this and
other rhetorical termini in antiquity are: Johann C. G. Ernesti, Lexicon Technologiae
Latinorum Rhetoricae (Leipzig, 1797; 2d repr., Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1983) and
idem, Lexicon Technologiae Graecorum Rhetoricae (Leipzig, 1795; 2d repr., Hildesheim:
Georg Olms, 1983).
20
Anaximenes, Rhet. 1.4 (1421b, 23–27); cf. Anaximenes, Ars Rhetorica: Quae vulgo
fertur Aristotelis ad Alexandrum (ed. Manfred Fuhrmann; Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1966),
6, lines 1–5.
21
In Progymnasmata 6, Hermogenes enumerates nÒmimon, d¤kaion, sÊmferon,
dÊnaton, and pr°pon (Leonard Spengel, Rhetores Graeci [3 vols.; Leipzig: B. G.
Teubner, 1853–1856], 2:119), whereas in Staseis 7 (Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, 2:164–166),
he discusses nÒmimon, d¤kaion, sÊmferon, dÊnaton, ¶ndojon, and §kbhsÒmenon. Other
enumerations of the telikå kefãlaia are cited by Heinrich Lausberg, Handbuch der
literarischen Rhetorik: Eine Grundlegung der Literaturwissenschaft (2 vols.; Munich: Max
Hueber, 1960), vol. 1 § 375.
204 hermut löhr
Again the argumentation can be understood without reference to

rhetoric, but the use of the expression adds argumentative force: it
is not just a fact, but a necessity, that is expressed. One can ask what
sort of necessity is expressed here. Harold W. Attridge sees in the
syntagma “the logical language of necessity,”22 while Erich Grässer
goes a step further in speaking of “(theo-)logische Denknotwendig-
keit,”23 which is an apt interpretative label, but not a historical rhetor-
ical category. The language of necessity is, as most commentators
do not fail to note, also present in Heb 7:12, 27 and 9:16, 23, pas-
sages which in fact evoke different categories of necessity. Taking
together énãgkh and énagka›ow, the words are used in the New
Testament most often in Hebrews, i.e., five times, against four times
in 1 Corinthians and four times in 2 Corinthians.24
Can this repeated use be further explained within the framework
of ancient rhetoric? Indeed it can. For chronological reasons, per-
haps less important for our argumentation is the fact that the énagka›on
figures in a list of the afore-mentioned telikå kefãlaia given in the
Progymnasmata of Nikolaos of Myra from the fifth century ce:25
¶sti d¢ taËta tÚ sumf°ron, tÚ d¤kaion, tÚ nÒmimon, tÚ dunatÒn, tÚ ¶ndo-
jon, tÚ énagka›on, tÚ =ñdion.
They (i.e., the telikå kefãlaia) are the useful, the just, the lawful, the
possible, the glorious, the necessary, the easy.
Not as an argument in deliberative speech, but in the context of
poetics, the énagka›on, understood as a natural necessity, takes us
back to Aristotle. In Poet. 9.1 (1451a), Aristotle defines the task of
the poet:
fanerÚn d¢ §k t«n efirhm°nvn ka‹ ˜ti oÈ tÚ tå genÒmena l°gein, toËto poi-
htoË ¶rgon §st¤n, éllÉ oÂa ín g°noito ka‹ tå dunatå katå tÚ efikÚw μ tÚ
énagka›on. (Halliwell, LCL)
From what was said, it is obvious that it is not the task of the poet
to say what happened, but what could happen or what is possible
according to conformity or necessity.
22
23
Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer (3 vols.; EKKNT 17; Zürich: Benziger and
Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997), 2:85. In note 70 on the same page
he rejects Hans Windisch’s opinion that it is the law that stands behind this necessity.
24
énãgkh: 1 Cor 7:26, 37; 9:16; 2 Cor 6:4; 9:7; 12:10; Heb 7:12, 27; 9:16, 23.
énagka›ow: 1 Cor 12:22; 2 Cor 9:5; Heb 8:3.
25
Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, 3:475–476.
In Rhet. 1.4.2 (1359a), Aristotle excludes the énagka›on together with

the édÊnaton from the deliberative speech:
˜sa d¢ §j énãgkhw μ §st‹n μ ¶stai μ édÊnaton e‰nai μ gen°syai, per‹ d¢
toÊtvn oÈk ¶sti sumboulÆ. (Freese, LCL)
Everything which of necessity either is or will be, or which is impossible
to be or to become—those things are outside the scope of deliberation.
In this concept of deliberative rhetoric, the category of énagka›on
plays the role of a boundary marker between the themes and argu-
ments within the scope of consideration, and those without. For
P. Rutilius Lupus, a Roman rhetor flourishing in the first century
ce, and cited and criticized by Quintilian in Inst. 9.3.99, the énagka›on
figures even among the figurae verborum:26
ÉAnagka›on. hoc schema tunc prodest atque omnis eius utilitas in eo est, cum
volumus ostendere necessitudinem aut naturae aut temporis aut alicuius personae.
The necessary. This state is then useful, and all its usefulness is there,
when we want to show the necessity of nature or time or of some
person.
Another possible reflection of rhetorical terminology in Hebrews is
the verb pr°pein, which is used two times in Hebrews, in Heb 2:10
and 7:26. In Heb 2:10 it refers to the suffering of the Son of God.
In Heb 7:26 the accent is a more soteriological one: it was “fitting”
for us to have such a high priest. The commentaries note pagan
Hellenistic theology and philosophy as the background to this idea
of appropriateness, citing in this respect the fundamental study of
Max Pohlenz on the expression tÚ pr°pon.27 Whereas Pohlenz him-
self devoted many pages to the use of pr°pon in rhetoric28—work
which for a long time seemingly went unnoticed by scholarly debate
on our epistle—Alan C. Mitchell proposed for the first time29 the
26
P. Rutilius Lupus, Schemata Dianoeas et lexeos: Saggio introduttivo, testo e traduzione
(ed. Giuseppina Barabino; Pubblicazioni dell’Istituto di filologia classica e medioe-
vale dell’Università di Genova 27; Genova: Istituto di filologia classica e medioe-
vale, 1967), 176, lines 1–3.
27
Max Pohlenz, “TÚ pr°pon: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des griechischen Geistes,”
in idem, Kleine Schriften I (ed. Heinrich Dörrie; Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1965),
100–139.
28
Pohlenz, “Beitrag,” 105–117.
29
Mitchell himself refers in a footnote to James Moffatt, A Critical and Exegetical
Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (ICC 14; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1924), 29,
who refers inter alia to Aristotle, Eth. nic. 4.2.2 (1122a).
206 hermut löhr
interpretation of pr°pein in Hebrews with the help of rhetorical ter-

minology.30 According to Mitchell, the author of Hebrews connects
the rhetorical and stylistic category of pr°pon with his theological
assumptions. Since according to Heb 2:3 God has spoken to humankind
through the Son, the christological and soteriological event can be
described in rhetorical categories. Seductive as this theological inter-
pretation might be, for me it remains somewhat doubtful whether
the concept of soteriology as communication between God and mankind
is really present in the passages cited. Nevertheless Mitchell’s essay
points, in my opinion, in the right direction. The use of pr°pein in
the argumentation of Hebrews indeed links theological considera-
tions with rhetorical terminology. As in the case of kefãlaion and
énagka›on, we are again referred to the field of argumentation: pr°pon
figures among the “main arguments” of the genus deliberativum.31
Hermogenes writes in his Progymnasmata 11:32
diairoËntai d¢ afl y°seiw to›w teliko›w legom°noiw kefala¤oiw, t“ dika¤ƒ,
t“ sumf°ronti, t“ dunat“, t“ pr°ponti.
The fundamental questions are divided according to the so-called final
main arguments, the just, the useful, the possible, the appropriate.
And for Quintilian, the decor of a person cited as example is one of
the arguments in a deliberative speech (Inst. 3.8.35; cf. 10.1.27 and
10.1.71), thus introducing an ethical concept into rhetoric:33
Sed personam saepius decoris gratia intuemur, quae et in nobis et in iis, qui delibe-
rant, spectanda est.
But more often it is for the sake of appropriateness that we consider
a personality, which is to be regarded by us as by those who are
deliberating.
The next example to be discussed here was in fact the starting point
of my reflections on rhetorical terminology in Hebrews. In my mono-
graph, Umkehr und Sünde im Hebräerbrief,34 I studied among other texts
30
Alan C. Mitchell, “The Use of pr°pein and Rhetorical Propriety in Hebrews
2:10,” CBQ 54 (1992): 681–701.
31
Examples are given by Lausberg, Handbuch, vol. 1 § 375.
32
Spengel, Rhetores Graeci, 2:18.
33
Marcus Fabius Quintilianus, Institutiones Oratoriae: Ausbildung des Redners: Zwölf
Bücher (ed. and trans. Helmut Rahn; 2 vols.; 2d ed.; Texte zur Forschung 2–3;
Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1988), 1:372.
34
Hermut Löhr, Umkehr und Sünde im Hebräerbrief (BZNW 73, Berlin: de Gruyter,
1994).
the famous passage Heb 6:4–8, a text which denies the possibility
of a second repentance or conversion (the Greek expression used in
the text is metãnoia) within the wider context of the theological think-
ing of our letter. The sharp édÊnaton (“impossible”) at the begin-
ning of verse 4 was interpreted synchronically in the context of the
arguments and examples of the following verses, in comparison with
the other occurrences in Hebrews (Heb 6:18; 10:4; 11:6), but also
on a metatextual level in the horizon of textual pragmatics.
As I realized only later, édÊnaton plays a certain role in rhetoric,
more exactly in the theory of argumentation. A hint in this direc-
tion was already given by Siegert,35 who, however, did not mention
its significance for the interpretation of Hebrews. Whereas tÚ dunatÒn
belongs again to the kefãlaia of argumentation (as noted above)
and appears in Quintilian, Inst. 3.8.25, even as a Greek terminus tech-
nicus,36 Aristotle in his rhetoric already provides us with a reflection
on dunatÒn and édÊnaton in the context of the common topics of
the three genera of speech. According to Aristotle, the topos of the
possible is most appropriate for deliberative rhetoric (Rhet. 2.18.5
[1392a]). Unfortunately Aristotle restricts himself to enumerating sev-
eral examples of logical and natural possibility, whereas for the
édÊnaton he only concludes:
per‹ d¢ édunãtou d∞lon ˜ti §k t«n §nant¤vn to›w efirhm°noiw Ípãrxei.
(Aristotle, Rhet. 2.19.15 [1392b]; Freese, LCL)
Concerning the “impossible” it is obvious that it consists of the things
contrary to those said.
And, as is expressed in Rhet. 1.4.3 (1359a),37 the impossible (like the
énagka›on, discussed above) cannot figure among the objects of delib-
eration. Despite failing to develop further the category of édÊnaton,
Aristotle gives us some proof that édÊnaton is part of the reflection
and language of rhetoric. The distinction of the possible and the
35
Siegert, Argumentation, 60.
36
Quintilian, Inst. 3.8.25: melius igitur, qui tertiam partem duxerunt dunatÒn, quod nos-
tri possibile nominant: quae ut dura videatur appellatio, tamen sola est (Rahn, Institutiones
Oratoriae, 1:368). In the sentence before, Quintilian argues against the necessarium as
a third part of deliberative arguments. He writes: itaque mihi ne consilium quidem vide-
tur, ubi necessitas est, non magis quam ubi constat quid fieri non posse: omnis enim deliberatio
de dubiis est (Rahn, Institutiones Oratoriae, 1:368).
37
Cf. also Anaximenes, Rhet. 1.12 (1422a, 20–21): énagka›a d¢ tå mØ §fÉ ≤m›n
ˆnta prãttein, éllÉ …w §j énãgkhw ye¤aw ≤ ényrvp¤nhw oÏtvw ˆnta (Fuhrmann,
Ars Rhetorica, 7, lines 14–15).
208 hermut löhr
impossible is fundamental for each orator, as Aristotle stresses in

Rhet. 1.3.8 (1359a):
énagka›on ka‹ t“ sumbouleÊonti ka‹ t“ dikazom°nƒ ka‹ t“ §pideiktik“
¶xein protãseiw per‹ dunatoË ka‹ édunãtou, ka‹ efi g°gonen μ mÆ, ka‹ efi
¶stai μ mÆ. (Freese, LCL)
It is necessary for the one who gives advice and for the one who
argues in court and the one who exhibits something to have proposi-
tions concerning the possible and the impossible, and as to whether
something happened or not, or will happen or not.
If the author of Hebrews actually has in mind this rhetorical usage
of the language of necessity, we do not need—according to the
author’s intent—to search in or behind the text for hidden reasons
for the sharp “impossible” in Heb 6:4. The passage Heb 6:4–8 makes
explicit the limits of the deliberatio: “impossible” is not only a second
conversion, but also further argumentation on this point. The text
marks the limits of the theological and pastoral discourse.
An investigation into the use of rhetorical terminology in Hebrews
would be fairly incomplete without taking account of the text’s self-
designation38 as lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw in Heb 13:22, which some
have thought to be a technical expression for a homily in a Jewish-
Christian milieu:39
Parakal« d¢ Ímçw, édelfo¤, én°xesye toË lÒgou t∞w paraklÆsevw, ka‹
går diå brax°vn §p°steila Ím›n.
I urge you, brethren, to hold on to the word of admonition, for I
have written to you (only) briefly.
The expression lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw is comparatively rare in Greek
literature, and it does not seem to be a clear-cut designation of some
oral or written genre. Nevertheless in Acts 13:15, it is used in the
mouth of the érxisunãgvgoi of Pisidian Antioch in the sense of an
oral discourse or a sermon. In 1 Macc 10:24, on the contrary, the
same expression refers to a written text (the letter of King Demetrios
38
That the expression lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw (Heb 13:22) refers to the written
text (and not to some oral message or ideal kerygma) is made obvious by the refer-
ence to the letter at the end of the same verse.
39
After Hartwig Thyen, Der Stil der Jüdisch-Hellenistischen Homilie (FRLANT 47;
Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1955), 16–18, who does not seem to regard
the expression lÒgow t∞w paraklÆsevw to be technical, cf. Lawrence Wills, “The
Form of the Sermon in Hellenistic Judaism and Early Christianity,” HTR 77 (1984):
277–299.
I Soter to the Jews in the ensuing verses), though it is not clear

whether the expression itself (the plural lÒgouw paraklÆsevw is used)
has the form of the letter in view. Other non-technical occurrences
include Diodorus of Sicily, Bibl. hist. 15.16.2 and Dio Chrysostom,
1 Regn. 9.4 (again the plural is used). Thus the use of lÒgow t∞w
paraklÆsevw in Hebrews is no evidence for rhetorical language.40
3. Conclusions
“Praxis precedes theory.” With this statement, Carl J. Classen41 justly

describes the limits of using categories of ancient rhetoric for the
interpretation of given texts. The use of rhetorical techniques is more
often than not independent of the use of the classical handbooks by
the authors. Rhetorical skill could and can be acquired in different
ways: by education, by hearing or reading outstanding examples of
speech or literature, or by following the precepts of this or that hand-
book. The same is true of the termini used. In general, the language
of rhetorical theory and advice does not only consist of termini tech-
nici. Influences of theological, philosophical, or everyday language
can be noticed everywhere in the handbooks. Especially in the field
of argumentation, rhetorical theory only states in a more systematic
form what common sense had already formulated with the same
words, though not in a fixed order.
In our investigation of Hebrews we did not come across a word
or term that makes sense only as a terminus technicus of rhetorical lan-
guage. Nor is there any direct and unambiguous evidence for the
use of rhetorical handbooks by the author of Hebrews. What does
strike the reader of Hebrews, however, is the use of words and
phrases that stress an argument by citing (pseudo-)logic42 or other
necessity, possibility, or appropriateness. The fact that some (not all)
of these expressions and phrases reappear in rhetorical theory could
40
The use of pros°xein in Heb 2:1 is for Karrer (Hebräer, 151) a trace of the
genos dikanikon, although he interprets the context of Heb 2:1–4 as deliberative
rhetoric. For prosoxÆ cf. Martin, Antike Rhetorik, 66, 70 n. 99.
41
Cf. Classen, “Terminology,” 29 n. 3.
42
For this aspect of the argumentation in Hebrews, cf. the older attempt of
Wilhelm C. Linss, “Logical Terminology in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” CTM 37
(1966): 365–369. In n. 2 on p. 365, Linss refers to a dissertation by W. A. Jennrich,
“Rhetorical Style in the New Testament: Romans and Hebrews” (Ph.D. diss.,
Washington University, St. Louis, 1947), which was not accessible to me.
210 hermut löhr
certainly be accidental or due to the existence of common-sense uni-

versalia. But the same fact could also provide us with a valuable his-
torical argument: our author, whose rhetorical skill was clearly
recognized even before the new era of rhetorical criticism, might
reveal by his terminology some traces of rhetorical knowledge and
formation, especially in the sphere of argumentation. So the impres-
sion of a very logical, rational, and even modern kind of argumen-
tation in Hebrews, which is repeatedly expressed in the secondary
literature, can be modified and corrected by studying classical rhetoric.
At the same time the expressions employed by the author point to
the field of deliberative rhetoric, thus confirming the assumption that
Hebrews is an early Christian literary example of the genus deliberativum.
Prof. Dr. theol. Hermut Löhr

Professor für Neues Testament
Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena, Theologische Fakultät
Fürstengraben 6, D-07737 Jena, Germany
[email protected]
PART THREE
TEXTUAL-HISTORICAL, COMPARATIVE, AND

INTERTEXTUAL APPROACHES TO HEBREWS
LOCATING HEBREWS WITHIN THE LITERARY
LANDSCAPE OF CHRISTIAN ORIGINS
Pamela M. Eisenbaum
The so-called “Epistle to the Hebrews” is almost certainly the most

mysterious text to have been preserved in the nt canon. The author’s
identity, the provenance, the addressees, and the date and occasion
for writing are all widely disputed. Interestingly, modern scholarship
mimics ancient scholarship in this regard; the fathers also vigorously
debated these questions until Augustine and Jerome finally settled
the question by declaring the text Pauline and canonical.1 Although
one might be able to identify a “majority view” on some of these
issues, that “majority view” coincides with, and is better designated,
the “traditional view” held by church authorities since the fifth cen-
tury. Most scholars actively working on Hebrews today would read-
ily admit, I think, that there is no modern scholarly consensus about
the specific context of Hebrews. Indeed, many scholars, myself
included, have expressed resignation about ever possessing knowl-
edge about Hebrews’ chronological, geographical, and social situa-
tion, unless, perchance, some miraculous new evidence appears. Thus
we often make and hear calls for recognizing the limits of our evi-
dence and laying aside those questions about the text’s context. The
best we can hope for is to interpret Hebrews on its own terms, “as
a distinctive Christian writing.”2 This attitude toward Hebrews has
left this rich document largely in isolation from other Christian lit-
erature and from the whole history of Christian origins. While I
appreciate the humility in recognizing the limits of historical evidence,
1
For Augustine, see Doctr. chr. 2.8.12–13; Civ. 10.5; 16.22. For Jerome, see Epist.
129.7. Helpful discussions of how Hebrews achieved canonical status can be found
in William H. P. Hatch, “The Position of Hebrews in the Canon of the New
Testament,” HTR 29 (1936): 133–151; Otto Michel, Der Brief an die Hebräer (KEK
13; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966), 37–39; and Craig R. Koester,
Hebrews: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary (AB 36; New York: Doubleday,
2001), 24–27.
2
Cynthia Briggs Kittredge, “The Letter to the Hebrews,” in The New Oxford
Annotated Bible (ed. Michael D. Coogan; 3rd ed.; New York: Oxford, 2001), 369NT.
214 pamela m. eisenbaum
such an attitude makes Hebrews only more mysterious, and thus

more frustrating to interpret.
Although I have discovered no new pieces of evidence, I wish to
appeal to a new kind of evidence in order to take up these seem-
ingly intractable questions about Hebrews. Perhaps the word “frame-
work” would capture better what I intend to do in the following
paper than does “evidence,” since the evidence to which I will appeal
is not new so much as simply neglected by most contemporary schol-
ars of Hebrews. Recently, several important, synthetic scholarly works
have appeared that reframe not only how we think about Christian
origins and post-biblical Judaism, but how we think about Jewish-
Christian relations and the construction of Jewish and/or Christian
identity in the first four centuries within the wider context of the
Greco-Roman world. Such scholarship has made me newly aware
of the biases embedded in the questions we pose, especially when it
comes to the “context of Hebrews.” More specifically, new scholarly
paradigms are emerging that have emboldened me to tackle the con-
textual questions about Hebrews that I once thought unanswerable.
With the exception of the question of provenance, I will make new
suggestions about the authorship, occasion, addressees, and date of
Hebrews. Before moving to my proposals for describing the context
of Hebrews, I first wish to explain briefly what I mean by “context.”
Text and Context
For most of the history of modern biblical scholarship, scholars have

been preoccupied with questions concerning the origin of a given
document, or passage, or saying, etc., because they believed that
knowledge of a text’s origins leads to knowledge of its meaning.
Thus, when scholars look for information about a text’s context, they
typically turn to literary and historical evidence that is generally con-
sidered prior to, or contemporary with, the document under inves-
tigation. Put another way, scholars tend “to look behind the text”
to see how it came into being in the first place. The “afterlife” of
the text is generally not considered very useful in determining a text’s
origins. The one possible exception is text-criticism, but because the
traditional goal of text-criticism has been to establish the Urtext, inter-
preters have typically used text-criticism merely to look through a man-
uscript of the 3rd, 4th, or 5th century so as to (re)construct a
locating hebrews with the literary landscape 215
first-century original. Once scholarly confidence is established that

one has the original text or nearly original text, then establishing
the “context” becomes a matter of identifying the specific social and
rhetorical situation that engendered that first-century text.3
To be sure, I count myself among those biblical scholars inter-
ested in the origins of texts, and I make claims about the origins of
Hebrews in this essay. However, I think scholars have often con-
fused questions concerning the origin of a text with the method
needed to pursue those questions, by assuming they need to work
backwards from the point of the text’s composition. The first prob-
lem with this assumption is that in many cases it is logically unten-
able. Hebrews is a case in point. Not only is the date disputed, the
chronological range of possibility covers a large swath of time (the
terminus a quo is sometime after the death of Jesus, while the terminus
ad quem is the first citation of Hebrews by a later author, but even
this is more complicated than at first it may seem).4 Under these
circumstances, how can there be reasonable certainty about what
other documents are prior and thus influential to the production of
Hebrews, except to go backwards to texts assuredly preceding the
terminus a quo? Perhaps this explains why scholars have spent more
time comparing Hebrews to Hellenistic Jewish writers like Philo or
apocalyptic texts and the Dead Sea Scrolls than to early Christian
literature, leaving Hebrews in isolation from the literary landscape
of early Christian texts. As Craig R. Koester has wittily commented
in regard to this issue, “In the history of early Christian theology,
Hebrews sometimes is thought to be like Melchizedek, without father,
mother or genealogy (Heb 7:3).”5
3
In a remarkable shift, however, some prominent text-critics today have put the
once-sacred quest for the original text aside and begun to use their skills to pur-
sue other kinds of questions. I will be appealing to some of their work below. Two
overviews of this shift in text-criticism can be found in Bart D. Ehrman, “The Text
as Window: New Testament Manuscripts and the Social History of Early Christianity,”
in The Text of the New Testament in Contemporary Research: Essays on the Status Quaestionis
(ed. Bart D. Ehrman and Michael W. Holmes; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995),
361–379; and Eldon J. Epp, “The Multivalence of the Term ‘Original Text’ in
New Testament Textual Criticism,” HTR 92 (1999): 245–281.
4
Although a majority of scholars recognize 1 Clement as dependent on Hebrews,
the traditional dating of 96 ce for 1 Clement has been rightly called into question.
A few have suggested a date as late as 140, though the current tendency is to date
it within the first quarter of the second century. For discussion, see Harold W.
Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 6–8.
5
Koester, Hebrews, 58. Koester’s commentary is something of an exception to
The second problem with the scholarly search for origins is that
the literary post-history of a text does, in fact, influence interpreters
in their interpretation of a text, but it is often unconscious and uncrit-
ical. Because Hebrews is part of the nt canon, and because most
nt texts are dated to the first century, scholars have tended to assume
that Hebrews is a first-century text. At the very least, the burden of
proof has rested on those who wish to date it later than the first
century. In other words, the very presence of Hebrews in the canon
unconsciously biases scholars toward a first-century date, in spite of
the fact that scholars are well aware that Hebrews’ canonical author-
ity was questioned up to the fifth century. Later in this paper I will
not only argue for a second-century date, but more importantly I
hope to demonstrate there is virtually no evidence tying Hebrews to
the first century. Thus the burden of proof needs to shift to those
who wish to uphold its location in the first century. To be sure,
scholars believe they have evidence for a first-century date and have
created arguments to support it, but I suspect that scholars would
never have found such “evidence” if Hebrews were not presently in
the canon. Similarly, the ascription “To the Hebrews” biases schol-
ars toward thinking the text is directed toward Jewish-Christians or
Christians attracted to Judaism, even as the same scholars acknowl-
edge the superscription is a later accretion—that is to say, not a part
of the “original” text. Indeed, there is precious little within the body
of Hebrews itself to indicate that the addressees are in danger of
“back-sliding into Judaism.”6
The point I wish to make is primarily methodological: the textual
history of Hebrews has been under-utilized in the interpretation of
the text, and I hope to begin to correct the situation by appealing
to what we know about the uses of literary texts in early Christianity
and the motivation for their production. As Harry Gamble has
pointed out, nt scholars for a long time downplayed the literary cul-
ture of early Christianity, with the result that “The failure to con-
the rule: he makes considerable effort to connect Hebrews to other early Christian
literature. Most commentators will list a few points of similarity or dissimilarity with
other texts, most often 1 Peter, but this information is rarely used to contextualize
Hebrews.
6
Barnabas Lindars sums up the traditional view that “Hebrews is written to a
group of Jewish converts who are in danger of relapsing into Judaism” (The Theology
of the Letter to the Hebrews [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991], 4). The
traditional view still has many defenders; one of the most articulate is Lindars
himself.
sider the extent to which the physical medium of the written word
contributes to its meaning—how its outward aspects inform the way
a text is approached and read—perpetuates a largely abstract, often
unhistorical, and even anachronistic conception of early Christian lit-
erature and its transmission.”7
It seems to me that Gamble’s critique is particularly apt for
Hebrews. Although scholarly reconstructions of the social situation
of Hebrews abound, there is virtually no specific information about
the social context given in the text itself. Reconstructions of Hebrews’
social context or rhetorical situation therefore remain extremely ten-
uous. Thus I intend to focus on another kind of contextual evidence.
The most concrete contextual information we possess about Hebrews
derives from its literary context—that is, its genre, its affinity to or
dissimilarity with other texts, and its textual history. Using this kind
of information, one can begin to identify what function a text like
Hebrews could have played in the literary culture of early Christianity.8
Authorship
While virtually all modern scholars have abandoned the notion of

Pauline authorship and wisely recognize the futility of identifying the
author with a specific person known from the pages of history, schol-
ars generally do not ponder why Hebrews might have circulated
anonymously.9 As for myself, I no longer find the question of the
author’s identity interesting, but I am curious about why the author
7
Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts
(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 42. Cf. Stanley K. Stowers, who offers
a similar critique and attempts to correct it in his reading of Romans (A Rereading
of Romans: Justice, Jews, and Gentiles [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990]; see
esp. 6–22).
8
One of the reasons this kind of literary contextualization has not been pursued
more vigorously is because of the long-established assumption that early Christian
culture was not “literary.” Even though form-criticism has given way in recent years
to more holistic readings of biblical texts (for the most part), many assumptions of
form-criticism still prevail, especially that early Christians were fairly simple folk
and that the literature that now comprises the nt represents either collections of
oral material or was occasioned by very specific situations and thus literary forms
were considered largely incidental to content. In this way, bibliographic and liter-
ary characteristics were perceived to be unrelated to the “generative circumstances”
of early Christian documents. See the discussion by Gamble, Books and Readers,
10–20.
9
According to Attridge, the last person to defend Pauline authorship was William
Leonard in 1939 (Hebrews, 2).
chose not to write in his (or her)10 own name, nor use a pseudo-
nym. Pursuing the question of authorship this way is useful, I think,
and can best be addressed by first turning to the textual history of
Hebrews.
Early Greek manuscripts of Hebrews indicate that the text of
Hebrews circulated within Pauline letter collections. While different
forms of the corpus Paulinum circulated, and some versions did not
include Hebrews, there is no evidence that Hebrews circulated with
other collections of Christian writings (for instance, with documents
that come to be known as the Catholic Epistles).11 Neither is there
evidence that Hebrews circulated independently, as was the case, for
example, with Revelation and some of the Catholic Epistles, as well
as some of the writings of the Apostolic Fathers.12 Hebrews appears
10
Since we do not know the identity of the author, we cannot discern the gen-
der of the author with any certainty. However, I will use the male pronoun when
referring to the author for two reasons: (1) as a matter of convenience; and (2)
because the author projects a male perspective; see Heb 11:32.
11
In addition to the evidence of majuscules, Hebrews has been identified in eight
papyri: ∏12; ∏13; ∏17; ∏46; ∏79; ∏89; ∏114; ∏116. (∏116 was recently published by
Amphilochios Papsthomas, “A New Testimony to the Letter to the Hebrews,” Tyche
16 (2001): 107–110.) Six of the eight manuscripts have been identified as portions
of now lost codices. (∏12 and ∏13 appear to be from scrolls, but any significance
that might be attached to this observation is minimized by their being opisthographs.)
With the exception of ∏46, the famed Chester Beatty codex of the Pauline epistles
which contains the entirety of Hebrews, these papyri are very fragmentary and pre-
serve Hebrews alone. This statistic is not unusual, however, since 98 of our cur-
rent 116 nt papyri preserve only a single nt text. In the case of the five fragmentary
texts originating from codices, scholars tend to assume the contents would have
included texts in addition to Hebrews, though almost all these texts are too frag-
mentary to determine this with certainty and there is no way to determine what
these other texts were. But from everything else known about the textual trans-
mission of Hebrews, it is reasonable to assume it was bound with other Paulines.
I am grateful to Eldon J. Epp for helping me to acquire an up-to-date list of early
witnesses to Hebrews, and especially for alerting me to the publication of ∏116. See
also Eldon J. Epp, “The Codex and Literacy in Early Christianity and at Oxyrhynchus:
Issues Raised by Harry Y. Gamble’s Books and Readers in the Early Church,” CRBR
10 (1997): 15–37 (with “Appended Note 2 on Additional Newly Published Oxyrhynchus
Papyri of the New Testament,” which Prof. Epp was kind enough to send me, now
in a reprint of the article in idem, Perspectives on New Testament Textual Criticism:
Collected Essays, 1962–2004 [NovTSup 116; Leiden: Brill, 2005], 548–550); idem,
“Issues in the Interrelation of New Testament Textual Criticism and Canon,” in
The Canon Debate: On the Origins and Formation of the Bible (ed. Lee M. McDonald and
James A. Sanders; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2002), 485–515, esp. 488–489,
and 503–507.
12
Epp, “Issues in Textual Criticism and Canon,” 492. See also Gamble, “The
New Testament Canon: Recent Research and the Status Quaestionis,” in The Canon
Debate: On the Origins and Formation of the Bible (ed. Lee M. McDonald and James A.
Sanders; Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 2002), 267–294, esp. 287–288.
in all the great majuscules of the fourth and fifth century, and, as
Eldon J. Epp rightly observes, “Hebrews’ place in the canon was
firm by the end of the fourth century”—indeed much firmer than
Revelation.13 Its position varies, but two positions are most common
in Greek manuscripts: between 2 Thessalonians and the Pastorals;
or after Philemon at the end of the collection.14 The logic of the
first sequence appears to lie in the distinction between letters to
churches or communities and letters to individuals.15 The rationale
for the second sequence is likely the dispute about Pauline author-
ship, or at least the recognition that the document was anonymous.
∏46 places Hebrews after Romans, which may seem idiosyncratic,
but Hebrews holds this position in nine minuscules as well, and there
is some evidence that early on there existed a four-part Pauline let-
ter collection that included Romans, Hebrews, 1 Corinthians, and
Ephesians.16 Moreover, second-century writers who demonstrate knowl-
edge of Hebrews also demonstrate knowledge of other Pauline let-
ters, and sometimes of a letter collection.17 In short, ancient Christian
readers consistently associated Hebrews either with Paul or the cor-
pus Paulinum, even as patristic literati recognized the problem of
assigning Hebrews to Paul. Since manuscripts of Hebrews attest to
13
Epp, “Issues in Textual Criticism and Canon,” 502.
14
See Kurt Aland, “Die Entstehung des Corpus Paulinum,” in Neutestamentliche
Entwürfe (ed. Kurt Aland; Munich: Kaiser, 1979), 302–350; David Trobisch, Paul’s
Letter Collection: Tracing the Origins (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1994), 10–21; as well as
discussions by Epp, “Issues in Textual Criticism,” 503–508; and Gamble, “New
Testament Canon,” 282–286.
15
Although Gamble is not convinced that Hebrews was present in early collec-
tions of Paul’s letters, he, like most others, recognizes the catholicizing tendency
evident in the transmission of the Pauline letter collection (“New Testament Canon,”
285; Books and Readers, 98–100). Nils Dahl pioneered this line of thought in “The
Particularity of the Pauline Epistles as a Problem in the Ancient Church,” in
Neotestamentica et Patristica: Eine Freundesgabe, Herrn Professor Dr. O. Cullmann zu seinem
60. Geburtstag überreicht (NovTSup 6; Leiden: Brill, 1962), 261–271.
16
See David Trobisch, Die Entstehung der Paulusbriefsammlung: Studien zu den Anfängen
christlicher Publizistik (NTOA 10; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989). A
simplified version of Trobisch’s argument concerning the four-letter collection appears
in Paul’s Letter Collection. It should also be noted that while Hebrews follows 2
Thessalonians in Codex Vaticanus, there exist chapter enumerations indicating that
Hebrews should—or originally did—follow Galatians.
17
A letter collection seems to be implied by the reference to “all his letters” in
2 Pet 3:15. Knowledge of multiple Pauline letters is also evident in 1 Clement,
Ignatius, and Polycarp. A thorough discussion can be found in Andreas Lindemann,
Paulus im ältesten Christentum: Das Bild des Apostels und die Rezeption der paulinischen Theologie
in der frühchristlichen Literatur bis Markion (BHT 58; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1979).
the document’s having circulated without claiming Pauline author-

ship for itself (the way, say, Ephesians does) the question then arises:
Why did readers, hearers, or scribes ever associate Hebrews with
Paul in the first place?
This question is rarely posed. Rather, scholars assume the author
was of the “Pauline school” and view the text as theologically res-
onant with Pauline views.18 That there are similarities between Paul’s
letters and Hebrews can hardly be denied. At the same time, how-
ever, there are many dissimilarities, most glaringly of style—so much
so that it is hard to imagine that hearing Hebrews read aloud would
have reminded the listeners of Paul. Moreover, one can also point
to similarities between Hebrews and 1 Peter (as many scholars have),
but the textual history of Hebrews does not indicate a connection
between Hebrews and the figure of Peter.19 Thus doctrinal similar-
ity seems unlikely as the motivating factor for placing Hebrews within
the Pauline letter collection or ascribing Hebrews to Paul.20 As for
a personal connection between the writer of Hebrews and Paul or
a Pauline congregation, it is certainly possible, perhaps even likely,
but such a connection only intensifies the mystery of anonymity: why
did the author of Hebrews not write pseudonymously in Paul’s name,
like others whose writings became part of the Pauline letter collec-
tion? Conversely, if the author was a leading member within a
Christian community, why did he not use his own name, as did
Ignatius of Antioch and Polycarp of Smyrna?21
18
See, for example, David A. deSilva, who confidently asserts, “The author of
Hebrews, in sum, is a member of the Pauline mission whose task it is to nurture
and preserve the work started by the apostolic leader” (Perseverance in Gratitude: A
Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on the Epistle “to the Hebrews” [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
2000], 39).
19
A. Welch argued that Peter was the author, but, like most arguments identi-
fying a particular individual as the author of Hebrews, this never caught on (The
Authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews [Edinburgh: Anderson & Ferrier, 1898]). Most
of the proposed authors of Hebrews, however—other than Paul himself—have been
Paul’s associates.
20
Cf. Hatch (“Position of Hebrews,” 133–134) who argued that Hebrews was
placed after Romans in ∏46 because of theological similarities.
21
Of course, Hebrews is not the only document in early Christianity to have
circulated anonymously. But it does seem to be the only one connected to the
Pauline school to have been anonymous. Cf. 1 Clement, which begins with a salu-
tation but does not name any individuals as senders, only “the church of God in
Rome.” Other letters of the second century, e.g., Martyrdom of Polycarp and Letter of
the Churches in Vienne and Lyons, identify churches rather than individuals as their
authors.
I propose three possible answers: (1) if Hebrews was originally a

letter sent to a community by an author at some remove from it,
whoever first inserted Hebrews into the corpus Paulinum omitted the
address because it was not authored by Paul and/or because the
author’s name was of no significance; (2) if the text was originally
designed as a speech composed for presentation to a local congre-
gation, rather than as a letter, there would not have been a formal
address to record the name of the speaker/writer and the text was
simply preserved this way; (3) the author deliberately concealed his
identity for some reason. Since certitude is unattainable, I will ven-
ture to move only from the possible to the probable.
The first option seems unlikely. Since there is no textual evidence
that there ever was an epistolary salutation at the beginning of
Hebrews, I consider it unlikely that Hebrews was originally com-
posed as a letter. I realize that such a claim makes the last few
verses of Hebrews (13:18–25) harder to explain, but these are the
only verses that make Hebrews look like a letter at all. There are
few points of direct address in the second person, and the author
for the most part subsumes his individual voice into the collective
“we.”22 If one accepts that Hebrews was not originally intended to
be a letter, then the author, sometime after composing Hebrews,
sent his composition to another community and added the final verses
as a personal note, or perhaps he added the final verses to make
the text look like a letter, particularly a Pauline letter. The latter is
more probable than the former because if the author wished to send
his treatise to another community, he would not have sent the original
but made a copy, and the copy would in all likelihood have included
an address, for which there is no trace in the textual tradition.23
Because there is a growing scholarly consensus that Hebrews was
originally composed as a speech or, to use the author’s own words,
an “exhortation,” the second explanation would appear more plau-
sible than the first. There is also scholarly consensus that Hebrews
reflects the work of a highly skilled writer. If Hebrews was originally
a speech (which the author or a scribal editor later sent to one or
22
Cf. deSilva, who perceives a distinct personality in Hebrews (Perseverance in
Gratitude, 25).
23
In regard to the likelihood of authors keeping copies of letters, see E. Randolph
Richards, “The Codex and the Early Collection of Paul’s Letters,” BBR 8 (1998):
151–166; and Gamble, Books and Readers, 100–101.
more communities) then the document’s anonymity must be explained

as a literary accident: the author’s identity was somehow lost by
scribes who neglected to preserve it. But this, too, seems to me
unlikely. Too many issues are left unresolved if the anonymity-as-
accident theory is accepted. For example, there exists no evidence
of variants of the superscription, “To the Hebrews.” Although such
superscriptions were added after a document became part of a col-
lection, the consistency of the title “To the Hebrews” is striking,
given that nothing in the document mentions “Hebrews” or “Jews.”
Moreover, titles of speeches normally refer to their subject matter,
not their audience (cf. Melito’s De Pascha, or Plutarch’s De Superstitione).24
Yet by raising these objections I do not mean to imply that Hebrews
originally was a letter. But neither do I think it was a speech or ser-
mon intended for a specific occasion or occasioned by a single event.
Hebrews was obviously written to be read aloud—its literary style,
especially appealing to the ear, makes that clear—thus, in terms of
modern genre typologies, Hebrews is a “speech.” But I want to pro-
pose that the author of Hebrews was motivated by an issue rather
than an occasion, and, further, that he was inspired by other Christian
literature, most importantly, the letters of Paul, known to him as a
corpus. This two-part proposal helps explain the title as well as the
mixed message about whether the document was originally a letter
or speech. I suggest that Hebrews was composed by an educated
and theologically reflective person who wished to clarify and per-
haps unify competing christological claims. The author is much more
concerned about the subject of which he writes, namely a system-
atic understanding of Christology, than about the behavior or well-
being of his audience. This theoretical focus distinguishes Hebrews
not only from the authentic letters of Paul, but from the pseudony-
mous letters as well (with the possible exception of Ephesians). The
cumulative effect of this evidence is that it is likely that the author
was motivated by a theological issue rather than problems of prac-
tice in a particular community.25 This observation alone, however,
24
Comparing titles of Plutarch’s various texts within the Moralia collection is
instructive: some texts were obviously originally composed as letters, e.g., Gamika
Parangelmata (Advice to Bride and Groom), which retains the address “From Plutarch to
Pollianus and Eurydice, health and prosperity.”
25
See Eisenbaum, “The Virtue of Suffering, the Necessity of Discipline, and the
Pursuit of Perfection in Hebrews,” in Asceticism in the New Testament (ed. Leif Vaage
and Vincent Wimbush; New York: Routledge, 1999), 331–353, esp. 331–332.
does not explain why no subject-related title was ever associated with
Hebrews (such as “On the High Priesthood of Christ”).
The superscription is best explained if someone (probably not the
author but a scribal editor) first put the document into circulation
as a part of the Pauline letter collection, so that the title “To the
Hebrews” was consistently part of the exemplar scribes used to copy
Hebrews. David Trobisch has argued that the four-letter edition of
the corpus Paulinum mentioned earlier, which included Romans, Hebrews,
1 Corinthians, and Ephesians, came into existence in Paul’s lifetime.
That this collection belongs to such an early date strikes me as
implausible, but because Trobisch argues that these four letters were
intentionally compiled and edited as a group so as to provide a
catholic edition for general circulation, it does seem likely that, among
the many permutations of the Pauline letter collection, this four-letter
edition circulated relatively early.26 Gamble, who believes the earliest
identifiable edition of the corpus Paulinum is a seven-letter edition,
nevertheless relies on a similar argument, namely that this seven-
letter edition was driven by the need to mitigate the particularity of
the Pauline letters.27
My point is that in all likelihood whoever first supplied the super-
scription “To the Hebrews” was familiar with a catholicized corpus
Paulinum in which it was not self-evident that Paul’s letters were
addressed to specific Christian communities. Let us take Paul’s let-
ter to the Romans, for example: since the designation “Romans”
can be taken in several ways (e.g., the citizens of the Roman Empire
generally, Roman imperial authorities, people living in the City of
Rome, etc.), the person who wished to insert Hebrews into the cor-
pus Paulinum would not necessarily understand pros romaious as reflective
of an address to a specific group of believers.28 Furthermore, Galatia
26
Trobisch, Die Enstehung der Paulusbriefsammlung, 82–110; cf. Gamble (“New
Testament Canon,” 285–286), who critiques the ascription of the four-letter col-
lection to the first century. See also Aland on the complexity and variety of Pauline
letter collections (“Die Entstehung des Corpus Paulinum”).
27
Gamble, Books and Readers, 59–61; and Dahl, “The Origin of the Earliest
Prologues to the Pauline Letters,” Semeia 12 (1978): 233–277. This corpus actually
consisted of ten letters, but was presented as “Paul’s letters to the seven churches”
(counting certain pairings of correspondence as “one” letter), as a way to give it
catholic appeal. The ten letters were 1 and 2 Corinthians, Romans, Ephesians, 1
and 2 Thessalonians, Galatians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon—Philemon
being counted together with Colossians.
28
In addition, there is abundant evidence that Romans circulated in a de-
particularized form; see Gamble, The Textual History of the Letter to the Romans (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 1977).
was understood to be a province, Corinth a city, while the letter to

the Ephesians was likely not addressed to people in Ephesus any-
way but simply “to the holy ones who are also faithful in Christ
Jesus.”29 In other words, whoever titled Hebrews “To the Hebrews”
may not have understood that Pauline letter titles normally matched
the particular Christian communities to whom they were originally
addressed. (Perhaps he thought the letters were addressed to kinds of
people?) Thus either the author or the scribal editor who inserted
Hebrews into the Pauline letter collection named the document “To
the Hebrews” partly in imitation of Pauline letter-titles (as he under-
stood them) and partly because he thought it aptly related to the
text’s contents as envisioned within the corpus Paulinum.30
If Hebrews was only published as part of the Pauline letter col-
lection, then the anonymity of Hebrews is explained by the scribal
editor’s desire to blend the text into the Pauline letter collection.
Presumably the editor thought the work would gain credibility by
its association with Paul, but the editor did not need to insert Paul’s
name into the text by creating a phony salutation with a phony
address; Hebrews’ presence in the collection was enough. Indeed,
once a collection of Paul’s letters began to circulate with Hebrews
included, Hebrews was perceived to be connected to Paul (or his
followers), even when its authorship was doubted, as by Origen and
Chrysostom.31 In sum, the author or scribal editor deliberately con-
cealed his identity as an implicit form of pseudonymity.32
Date
I agree with the majority of scholars that 1 Clement betrays knowl-

edge of Hebrews. Since the date of 1 Clement is not fixed, the termi-
nus ad quem for Hebrews can be as late as the first quarter of the
29
Gamble, Books and Readers, 98.
30
As Gamble says of those responsible for developing the corpus Paulinum in the
second century: “they were shaped by ideas about the number of letters or addressees
and about the order of the letters and that had distinctive textual complexions”
(Books and Readers, 100).
31
Cf. Gamble’s comments on Ignatius’s letters, which became widely known and
influential only as a corpus (Books and Readers, 110–111).
32
Cf. the comment of Erich Grässer: “. . . weil die Anonymität vom Hebräerbrief-
autor gewollt ist.” (An Die Hebräer [3 vols.; EKKNT 17; Zürich: Benziger and Neukirchen-
Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1990–1997], 1:17; emphasis in original).
second century. The terminus a quo is harder to fix. The most impor-
tant question in this regard—and the one that constitutes the biggest
debate in studies of Hebrews—is whether the text was written before
or after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem in 70 ce. There
are two common arguments in favor of dating Hebrews prior to 70:
that the author speaks of the sacrificial cult as if it were a present
reality; and that he would have been compelled to mention the
destruction of the temple—had it already taken place—in order to
demonstrate his supersessionist view of the new covenant in Christ.
The first argument is unconvincing because many other ancient
authors, Jewish and Christian, speak of the temple and sacrifice in
the present tense long after the temple has been destroyed.33 The
second argument, however, is not as easily dismissed and requires
more consideration.
The author of Hebrews, more so than any other nt author, argues
strongly for the “obsolescence” of Judaism, or at least the end of
the “old covenant” (Heb 8:13; 10:9). If this is the point of which
he wishes to persuade his audience, what better proof than God’s
destruction of the temple, which put a decisive end to the priestly
establishment in Jerusalem and the practice of cultic sacrifice? The
omission must mean, so the argument goes, that the author writes
the text prior to the destruction of Jerusalem and probably prior to
the Jewish War with Rome.
While this argument is by no means implausible, its flaws are
significant. First, the author of Hebrews never actually uses the word
“temple.” He speaks only of the “tabernacle,” which encased the
presence of God and was carried by the Israelites in the wilderness.
Indeed, the author gives no impression of having experiential knowl-
edge of the temple cult. All the information conveyed in Hebrews
about the cult derives from the biblical text, primarily Exodus and
Leviticus. Second, the argument that Hebrews is written prior to the
temple’s destruction is usually predicated on the assumption that the
addressees are retreating from their commitment to Christ and mov-
ing back toward traditional Judaism and, if this is the case, then the
author’s neglecting to mention the fall of the temple seems peculiar.
But, as I intend to show subsequently, if the addressees are not from
Jewish backgrounds, but are Gentile, or of mixed origins, then the
33
See, e.g., Josephus, C. Ap. 2.77; 1 Clem. 40; and Diogn. 3.
omission in Hebrews of this cataclysmic event in recent Jewish his-

tory does not seem so surprising. The omission is even less surpris-
ing if the author is not writing to people in Jerusalem, but rather
to those who have no direct experience of the tragedy. Third, it is
possible to stand the argument on its head, so to speak. The author’s
conviction that the cult is obsolete may be derived from its already
having disappeared as a result of the war. In other words, the author
has reached his conclusions precisely because his ruminations about
these matters happen in a world that is devoid of Jewish cultic insti-
tutions. In this case, the author does not feel compelled to mention
the destruction because it is a fact he and his constituents take for
granted. Thus the argument for a pre-70 date begs some of the
questions it attempts to answer. Because it constitutes an argument
from silence, the author’s failure to mention the fate of the temple
can never be a decisive indicator for dating Hebrews.
Similarly, the numerous attempts to date Hebrews by relying on
references to persecution found in the text have not worked. Because
they are not historically specific, they can be interpreted in various
ways. While the abuse is reportedly serious—the audience has been
plundered of its possessions (Heb 10:34)—they have not suffered to
the point of shedding blood (Heb 12:4). Among scholars who sup-
port a Roman context for Hebrews, several see these remarks as
indicative of a time before the Neronian persecution in 64. However,
if the intended audience was located in the surrounding environs,
but not necessarily within the city itself, they may not have experi-
enced the same incendiary death suffered by the urban Christians
in Rome. Moreover, if Hebrews were written well after the Neronian
persecution (in the 90’s?), the generation to which the author writes
might not have experienced that persecution first-hand. Like the
destruction of the Jerusalem temple, Nero’s burning of Christians in
Rome cannot be used as a marker for either an early or a late date.
Ultimately, there is no way to disguise the lack of concrete data
pointing to a specific historical moment. This realization has led
Attridge to say that a date cannot be pinned down beyond the range
of 60–100 ce.34 While it is difficult to argue with absolute convic-
tion, my view is that a date sometime early in the second century
(or very late in the first) is much more likely than an earlier date.
I have three reasons for this view.
34
First and most simply, the author of Hebrews places some dis-
tance between the time of Jesus and his own audience. As he says
in Heb 2:3, “how can we escape if we neglect so great a salvation,
which was from the beginning spoken through the Lord, confirmed
for us by those who heard him.”35 “Confirmed for us by those who
heard him” indicates that the writer of Hebrews is at least one gen-
eration removed from Jesus and his first followers. I say “at least”
because “confirmed for us by those who heard him” does not nec-
essarily mean that such teachings were passed directly from the apos-
tles to the community addressed by Hebrews.36 Early Christians
believed that faithful disciples could reliably transmit teachings orally,
such that it was as good as receiving the information from the Lord
himself. In any case, the author and audience cannot be placed
within the first community of disciples.
More importantly, when the author says “confirmed” (§bebai≈yh),
he is not likely referring to casual oral communication, but to more
official, or officially recognized, types of testimony that validated what
was previously spoken.37 The bebaiÒv word-group is used several
times by the author of Hebrews. The rsv and nrsv rendering of
this verb in Heb 2:3 as “attested,” however, does not reflect its usual
range of meaning. The Greek word generally means to confirm,
establish, secure, or guarantee, hence my translation of “confirmed.”38
Indeed, in Heb 2:2, the author uses the related adjective b°baiow;
there it is traditionally rendered as “valid,” as in, “if the message
declared through angels was valid.” In Heb 2:3 the author clearly
means to convey that what was first spoken by the Lord was some-
how confirmed or established or perhaps even that it was ratified or
made efficacious.39 The mention of “signs and wonders” in the fol-
lowing verse may well refer to the powers granted to the apostles
as “proof ” of Jesus’ authenticity. Together, the two verses read:
[H]ow can we escape if we neglect so great a salvation, which was
from the beginning spoken through the Lord, confirmed for us by
those who heard him, while God at the same time bore witness by
35
Translations of Hebrews are mine, based on the nrsv.
36
Heb 2:3 has sometimes been used to argue that the audience cannot be more
than one generation removed from Jesus. See, e.g., William L. Lane, Hebrews (2 vols.;
WBC 47; Dallas: Word Books, 1991), 1:lviii.
37
38
“bebaiÒv,” BDAG 172–173.
39
Cf. the author’s use of the verb bebaiÒv in Heb 9:17.
signs and wonders and various miracles, and by allotments of the holy
spirit, according to his will. (Heb 2:3–4)
“Signs and wonders” frequently refers to the powers of the apostles
as described in the book of Acts.40 Paul uses the expression in the
same way;41 signs and wonders confirm the authenticity of an apos-
tle. It may even be that the author of Hebrews is referring specifi-
cally to Pentecost, which followed almost immediately upon Jesus’
ascension, since he includes the phrase “allotments of the Holy
Spirit,” but this cannot be determined with certainty. Nevertheless,
the author of Hebrews almost surely refers to the apostles (at least
those people who are widely recognized as legitimate purveyors of
the gospel message) in Heb 2:3, and his use of the verb bebaiÒv,
“confirm,” communicates his belief that the apostles’ teaching was
not merely the passing on of the message but its establishment as a
divine constitution.
The author uses the same terminology in Heb 9:17 in reference
to a will “taking effect” (beba¤a) when the person who wrote it dies.
That the term in Heb 2:3 connotes something like “taking effect”
or “being instituted” is further implied by the parallelism between
Heb 2:2 and 2:3. Just as “the message declared through angels
became valid (b°baiow),” which is the author’s way of saying that
the word of God formerly spoken by the prophets—or the “old
covenant,” as he now thinks of it—was officially instituted, presum-
ably in the form of Torah, so now what was spoken by the Lord
has been “confirmed”; it has become a newly effectuated covenant.
Such a view seems more plausibly located later, rather than earlier,
in the first century. Moreover, this terminology may indicate that
the author understands the new covenant to have taken written form
already, and it is from such texts that the Lord has spoken.
My second reason for dating Hebrews late builds on the first: I
strongly suspect that the writer of Hebrews knows other early Christian
writings, including one or more written gospels. My reasons for mak-
ing the suggestion about the author’s access to written gospels depends
on the presence of some important details about Jesus’ life that appear
40
The expression “signs and wonders” occurs several times in Acts: Acts 2:22,
43; 4:30; 5:12; 6:8, 7:36; 14:3; 15:12. In the gospel literature it appears only in
John 4:48.
41
In the Pauline literature, the expression appears in Rom 15:19; 2 Cor 12:12;
and 2 Thess 2:9.
in Hebrews. Admittedly, direct literary dependence is very difficult

to prove, and I will not attempt it here. However, I think a rea-
sonably strong case can be made that Hebrews knows either a writ-
ten gospel or at least a gospel tradition that post-dates the destruction
of the temple:42
[W]hich (hope) we have as an anchor of the soul, steady and firm
and reaching into the interior of the veil (katapetãsmatow), where Jesus
has entered as a forerunner for us, having become High Priest for-
ever according to the order of Melchizedek. (Heb 6:19–20)
Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have confidence for (gaining) entrance
into the Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, which (entrance) he offered
to us as a new and life-giving way through the veil (katapetãsmatow),
that is, his flesh. (Heb 10:19–20)
The only other nt writers who use the term katap°tasma are Mark,
Matthew, and Luke. The latter two derive their usage from Mark,
for the mention of the veil comes at the same point in the gospel
story in all three, at the moment of the crucifixion.43 For Hebrews,
and presumably for the gospel writers, it refers to the entry point
the priest passed through on Yom Kippur to enter the “Holy of
Holies.”44 Although Hebrews does not describe the tearing of the cur-
tain, the connection between gaining entry into the inner sanctum
of the temple and Jesus’ death is striking. It is difficult to imagine
that Jesus’ crucifixion would have been linked to entry into the inner
sanctum as an independent theological tradition or that such a theo-
logical interpretation would have naturally come to mind prior to
the destruction of the temple. Thus I suggest that these two pas-
sages in Hebrews and their resonance with the tearing of the curtain
in the synoptic gospels provide strong evidence for a post-destruction
date for Hebrews.
My third reason for dating Hebrews relatively late is its affinity
to writings of the second century. Christians of the second century
begin to write in a more elevated style and to write for broader
audiences. They also write treatises that pursue a sustained line of
42
Although I will not attempt to make a case for them here, other details of
Jesus’ life connected to gospel tradition appear in Heb 2:14–18 (the temptation
story) and Heb 5:7 (Gethsemane).
43
Mark 15:38; Matt 27:51; Luke 23:44.
44
It is clear that katap°tasma refers to the veil that divides the inner sanctum
from the rest of the tabernacle; see Attridge, Hebrews, 184–185, 284.
argumentation about a theological issue; most first-century Christian

documents do not follow such a form. While certainly there were
real-life circumstances that influenced the writer of Hebrews to com-
pose his brilliant essay on Christology, it might also be the case that
the author is partly motivated by the very existence of other Christian
literature that is in circulation. In other words, he is inspired to write
because he has been inspired by other Christian writings, perhaps
because he recognizes that they hold the power to influence others.
It is clear that the influence of the Pauline letter collection on
subsequent Christian writers from the late first century onwards can
hardly be overstated. Even before there were standardized collec-
tions, it is evident that letters were passed on to others beyond those
to whom they were originally sent. It is likely that the practice of
sharing letters initiates the trajectory of catholicizing, and the for-
mation of the corpus Paulinum is almost surely a result of the desire
to universalize the Pauline letters.45 The tendency to address Christian
audiences broadly increases significantly in second-century writings.
Thus, when the author of 1 Clement wrote to the Corinthian church
to chastise them about deposing leaders they should not have deposed,
he need not have written the 65 chapters that now comprise the
document. His lengthy disquisitions about the harmony of all cre-
ation, his exhortative discussions of obedience, humility, and other
virtues that promote peace and harmony—all of which he bolsters
with countless examples from scripture—are indications that his pur-
pose is not merely to fix the situation at Corinth, but to address
Christians at large on the subject of church unity and to construct
arguments that would earn the respect of any others who happen
to come upon his letter.
As Gamble has said of such apostolic writings, “From a literary
standpoint all these documents are less pieces of occasional corre-
spondence than they are theological essays in letter form.”46 In my
view, Hebrews is the quintessential example of the “theological essay”
of which Gamble speaks, and thus its genre makes more sense within
the context of the early second century. This does not mean that it
was not originally “occasioned” by more particular social circum-
45
A similar tendency can be observed in the way several of the Catholic Epistles
address their audiences: James: “to the twelve tribes in the dispersion”; 1 Peter: “to
the exiles of the dispersion”; 2 Peter: “to those who have obtained faith.”
46
Gamble, Books and Readers, 106.
stances, but I do not think the text of Hebrews provides enough

information to enable us to reconstruct these circumstances. The cir-
cumstances of Hebrews that are most readily identifiable are literary
and bibliographic and thus pertain to its publication and circulation,
not its initial production.
Addressees
Scholars have advocated many different locations for Hebrews. My

own view is that Hebrews has some connection to Rome, but since
it has been notoriously difficult for scholars to reach any agreement
about Hebrews’ point of origin or the locale of the addressees, I do
not wish to defend the connection to Rome now. Rather, I will focus
on the two issues that continue to preoccupy most commentators on
Hebrews: whether Hebrews was directed to a specific audience or a
general or ideal audience; and the background or ethnic make-up
of its addressees.
First to the matter of whether Hebrews is written for a specific
audience. It seems to me that lack of geographic references (with
the exception of “those from Italy” in the postscript) and inability
of scholars to reach agreement among the countless proposed pos-
sibilities, indicate that, in fact, the text is devoid of the information
needed to identify the addressees’ geographic location. Thus I under-
stand Hebrews as directed to an ideal audience imagined by the
author. To the extent that audiences are always projections by an
author,47 understanding Hebrews as written not to a single commu-
nity but rather to a more broadly understood body of Christians
does more justice to the text of Hebrews than narrowing its implied
audience to a single place at a single moment. Furthermore, there
is so little specificity of any kind relating to the social situation that
lies behind Hebrews that it seems not merely accidental. In another
words, Hebrews is suspiciously lacking in information related to ques-
tions of who, what, where, when, etc. Although the first public read-
ing of Hebrews must have taken place at a particular time in a
particular place, this moment in history, and thus the social situa-
tion, is not recoverable. Hebrews—whether originally composed in
47
As Attridge says, “In some respects, as contemporary literary critics point out,
the audience as we know it is the creation of the text” (Hebrews, 9 n. 66).
order to be part of the Pauline letter collection or later edited so as

to fit into that collection—was “published” and became known as
part of a collection, not as an independent writing. The very rea-
son such collections were formed was to facilitate broad circulation.
Thus the encoded audience of Hebrews is a Christian audience
broadly conceived.
Now to the second issue: the ethnic background or religious lean-
ings of the addressees. Many interpreters, even when they are resigned
about pinning down the specific geographic or chronological con-
text, attempt to understand the social circumstances of the audience,
particularly with regard to their religious or ethnic backgrounds,
practices, and beliefs. Put another way, scholars attempt to recon-
struct what problems or conditions existed among the addressees and
then these problems or conditions are understood to have prompted
the author of Hebrews to respond.48
Since I do not think we possess the data to describe the social
circumstances that gave rise to the composing of Hebrews, I do not
think we can describe the social background(s) of the real-life indi-
viduals and communities to whom Hebrews was addressed. However,
when I say Hebrews is addressed to a general audience, I do not
mean anyone and everyone the author can possibly imagine; I mean
that the audience was deliberately conceived to include Christians
more generally, and perhaps Jews or God-fearers who might well be
persuaded by the author’s argument about the nature and significance
of Christ. The question thus remains: who are the implied or ideal
readers and what seems to be at stake in the argument the author
constructs?
More often than not, the traditional view of the addressees of
Hebrews as either Jewish-Christians or Judaizing Christians still pre-
vails, although recently more commentators seem amenable to the
idea that Hebrews is addressed to a Gentile or mixed audience.49
Others have astutely pointed out that not only is the ethnic back-
ground of the addressees elusive, but its determination contributes
48
Lindars, in Theology of the Letter to the Hebrews, is one example of a scholar who
offers a considerably detailed reconstruction of the events that prompted the writ-
ing of Hebrews; another (though very different) is Ernst Käsemann, The Wandering
People of God: An Investigation of the Letter to the Hebrews (trans. Roy A. Harrisville;
Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984).
49
See my discussion in The Jewish Heroes of Christian History: Hebrews 11 in Literary
Context (SBLDS 156; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997), 7–11.
little to the understanding of Hebrews, since the author is most con-

cerned to address their identity as Christians, encouraging them not
to flag in their Christian commitment.50 One reason for the ques-
tion’s insolubility is that we have tended to operate with general
assumptions about religious, ethnic, and political identity in antiq-
uity that are anachronistic; particularly anachronistic have been our
assumptions about what constitutes “Judaism” and “Christianity” in
the first few centuries of the Common Era, both at the communal
and individual level. Recent works dealing with Jewish-Christian rela-
tions in antiquity as well as the nature of religious identity among
Jews and Christians in the first four centuries are, I suspect, just
beginning to reveal how problematic our categories are for under-
standing how an ancient Jew or Christian constructed their religious
identity.51 Most relevant to the matter at hand is the questioning of
the so-called “parting of the ways”—the separation of Judaism and
Christianity, which used to be regarded as largely accomplished by
the turn of the second century—so that those scholars who have
worked most extensively on ancient Jewish-Christian relations think
such separation came about much more slowly and unevenly and
that perhaps we should not speak of separate and distinct commu-
nal identities until the fourth or fifth century.
Let me move from these broad historiographical generalizations
to more specific observations about the late first and early second
century and the implications for locating Hebrews socially and chrono-
logically. There were three wars between Romans and Jews during
this time. The significance of the war of 66–70, resulting in the
destruction of the Second Temple, need not be recounted in detail.
We know less about the Diaspora war of 115–117 when the Jews
of Egypt, Cyprus, and Cyrenaica rebelled, but most scholars seem
to think it resulted in the decimation of Egyptian Jewry.52 The third
war, the Bar Kochba revolt of 132–135, resulted in the de-Judaization
50
Koester, Hebrews, 46–48.
51
See, for example, the recent collection of essays in The Ways that Never Parted:
Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (ed. Adam H. Becker
and Annette Yoshiko Reed; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); and Judith M. Lieu,
“‘The Parting of the Ways’: Theological Construct or Historical Reality?” in Neither
Jew nor Greek: Constructing Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, 2002), 11–29; repr.
from JSNT 56 (1994): 101–119.
52
See Shaye J. D. Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah (Philadelphia:
Westminster/John Knox, 1987), 17.
of Jerusalem, which was reconstituted as Aelia Capitolina, and the

renaming as Palestina of the region once known as Judea. In short,
the late first and early second century may stand as the worst period
of Jewish-Roman relations. Certainly, it was a time of ongoing conflict
and persecution. Furthermore, as Seth Schwartz has recently argued,
material and literary remains seem to indicate that Jewish society in
Palestine barely existed at all, and, presumably, any sense of Jewish
identity that individuals possessed might have amounted to no more
than a vague memory.53 After three wars, countless Jews were no
doubt sold into slavery and were detached from their usual con-
nections of support.
The second century also provides the first direct evidence of Roman
persecution of Christians qua Christians, in Pliny’s letter to Trajan
and in the letters of Ignatius.54 It remains unclear to what extent
and by what criteria Romans began to differentiate between Christians
and Jews, but I suspect that many Christians, especially during the
first revolt, were victims of Rome’s revenge on rebellious Jews. The
fact that the gospels were composed in the wake of the temple’s
destruction indicates how significant the destruction of the temple
was to Christians as well as Jews. But by the early second century,
the letters of Ignatius and Pliny’s letter to Trajan provide evidence
that Christians were persecuted for being Christians. Thus martyr-
dom and resistance to Rome, especially resistance to participation
in the idolatrous imperial cult, were something that Jews and Christians
shared in common during this period.
If one grants that Hebrews was written after the destruction of
the temple, it is difficult to imagine that the recipients of Hebrews
would have been attracted to Judaism because of the security and
status it enjoyed in the Roman world. Yet the assumption that the
addressees are either Jewish Christians or Judaizing Christians, together
with the references to persecution, has led the majority of com-
mentators to hold this view (with minor variations and permutations).
While the author is clearly steeped in knowledge of the lxx and is
focused on the relationship of Jesus’ sacrifice to the Israelite cultic
practices surrounding the tabernacle, there is nothing in Hebrews
that indicates the addressees practice some form of Judaism. The
53
Seth Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society: 200 BCE to 640 CE (Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 2001).
54
Nero’s persecution of Christians in 64 is recorded later by Tacitus.
references in Heb 6:2 and 9:10 to ablutions are not only not dis-
tinctly Christian, they are not distinctly Jewish; perhaps that is why
the author calls them various ablutions (Heb 9:10). As with the prac-
tice of blood sacrifice itself, these are practices that pious Jews and
Gentiles would not find strange, but would associate instinctively with
religious piety. The same could be said about the mention of “food
and drink” in Heb 9:10 and “foods” in Heb 13:9 (“be strengthened
by grace, not by foods, which have not benefited their adherents”).
That the author has in mind an audience who might believe in the
religious power of certain eating practices (cultic meals, festival meals,
or foods associated with magic) or abstention from certain foods at
certain times does not necessarily point to the observance of kashrut.
Although the author mentions these items within discussions about
the meaning of scripture, and thus one might infer the audience fol-
lows the practices prescribed in scripture, the author’s rhetoric hardly
indicates that the addressees were engaged in specific practices to
which the author objects and because of which he writes. What is
more likely is that the author is expounding scripture for the edifica-
tion of his audience, whom he sees as not adequately knowledge-
able of “the oracles of God.” His mention of foods or ablutions is
couched in such a way that a Jew or a Gentile would understand
that such religious practices are unimportant; they are a matter of
teachings, not of actual practice. He is more forceful in his accusa-
tions of sluggishness and their failing to meet together, so that com-
mentators take these comments as indicators of the situation of the
audience. In the case of sluggishness, this seems to me a classic
rhetorical move designed to “rev people up” and thus offers little
historical information. As Attridge says, their failing to meet is the
most concrete datum about the audience there is.55 Yet it is not clear
that there are specific ritual meetings they are failing to attend; the
issue is simply that they do not meet as often as they should. The
need to meet is not made clear, though one can infer that if people
do not meet together, the extent to which they form a community
is in doubt.
My point is that the “situation” that most likely inspired the author
of Hebrews, other than his devotion to the study of scripture and
theological reflection itself, is indeed religious identity, but this iden-
tity is not one form of Christianity over against another, nor is it
55
even the attempt to construct a Christian identity over against Jewish

identity (in spite of its seeming supersessionist theology). Indeed, Hebrews
is noticeably lacking in the polemics that characterize the gospels
and Paul’s letters. Those writings often give the impression that those
who make up the body of Christ are not associated with or do not
understand themselves as part of the Jewish community. Christian
polemics against Jews pick up again in the mid-second century, with
the writings of Barnabas, Melito, Justin, Tertullian and others. As
Judith M. Lieu has observed, there seems to be a hiatus in the ran-
cor in the early second century.56 The authors of 1 Peter, 1 Clement,
and other works known only in fragments from Eusebius are not
concerned to construct a rhetoric of difference between Judaism and
Christianity. Many scholars have recognized and articulated the sim-
ilarities between 1 Peter, Hebrews, and 1 Clement, but they are usually
accounted for on the grounds of all belonging to Roman Christianity
and/or literary dependence or oral tradition. I want to suggest that
the resonances add up to something more.
These texts have the following in common: knowledge or experi-
ence of persecution coupled with repeated exhortations to endure by
following the example of Jesus; an emphasis on the blood of Christ;
and an understanding of the believers as aliens and sojourners in
this world. Moreover, all these writers demonstrate that they are
learned in the scriptures, and through exposition they explicate the
relationship between the past as preserved in scripture and the cur-
rent world in which they live. But from the standpoint of Jewish-
Christian relations, as well as relations between Jews and Christians
on the one hand and pagan Rome on the other, the similarities of
these documents indicate that the shared experience of persecution
during this time may have led to a greater sense of commonality
among Jews and Christians, or, at the very least, little awareness of
any significant differences. Whereas once I would have lumped
Hebrews together with Barnabas because of its supersessionist the-
ology, I now see Hebrews’ “supersessionism” as possibly a desper-
ate attempt to construct anew a religious heritage that seems to have
all but disappeared. It is in some ways neither Judaism nor Christianity
56
Judith M. Lieu, Image and Reality: The Jews in the World of the Christians in the
Second Century (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 4.
and in other ways it represents both—a unique form of Judeo-

Christian religiosity that perhaps existed briefly when Rome was the
common enemy of Jews and believers in Jesus and before the rhetoric
of Christian and Jewish leaders could construct firm boundaries
between Judaism and Christianity.
Pamela M. Eisenbaum, Ph.D.

Associate Professor of Biblical Studies and Christian Origins
Iliff School of Theology
2201 S. University Boulevard, Denver, Colo. 80210–4798, U.S.A.
peisenbaum@iliff.edu
HEBREWS AND THE HERITAGE OF PAUL
Dieter Georgi1
Since my student days I have been made increasingly aware of how

much images can influence understanding. I learned that this was
even stronger in the case of common as well as unconscious images.
One of the images it has not been easy to shake off since my very
first days of study at the university in Mainz is the term “school”—
in my case, the “Bultmann-school.” As a student of Ernst Käsemann
and of Eduard Schweizer I was automatically counted among the
“Bultmannschüler.” This was further reinforced when I was employed
as assistant of Günther Bornkamm, my “Doktorvater,” as we call
that in Germany, since he was another “Schüler” of Rudolf Bultmann.
By association, any direct or indirect “Schüler” of Bultmann was
considered as belonging to the same unitary school, even though I
learned that Käsemann, Schweizer, and Bornkamm could easily dis-
agree with each other and with Bultmann, and I with them.
My association with this “school” remained in later years, when
I, succeeding Helmut Koester, became involved in the organization
of the “Arbeitskreis Alte Marburger.” This was the name of the
annual meeting of the former students of Bultmann, with Bultmann
himself present each time. Despite the fact that the participants of
these meetings were identified as “Bultmannschüler,” one of my inter-
esting experiences was that more than half of the participants would
deny that they belonged to a “Bultmann-Schule.”
The question therefore was: is this actually a school or is it not?
And if it is, what does it mean to be a member of a school? In my
own personal case as well as in that of a good number of fellow
students who regularly had teachers from different “schools,” the
issue could become confused quite easily: for example, was I not
part of the so-called “Barth-Schule” as well? Despite all the variations
1
Due to a serious ailment I was unable to deliver the following paper. I am
grateful to Harold W. Attridge, himself the author of an imposing and fascinating
commentary on Hebrews. He stepped in and read the paper and did so without
hesitation.
240 dieter georgi
and confusions existing in the practical reality of these so-called

“schools,” my experience has been that people possess very definite
hermeneutical associations when they use the metaphor and image
of “school.” So, despite having studied with different teachers and
in different universities, and despite my own long and varied inter-
national teaching career, I have regularly been called a “Bultmannian”
to this day.
The concept of “school” is not a new one, and closer study reveals
that the ancient and best-known “schools” already anticipate to a
high degree the personal experiences I spoke about. For example,
the “Socratic school” as a whole does not represent a unity but
rather a very extensive variety. The teachings of the different branches
of this “school” were not uniform.
The term “school” usually requires one head who is revered by
several students. It requires a stringent curriculum, continued even
after the founder of the school and his original students have died.
You might think that I have lost Hebrews from sight. On the con-
trary. In any discussion of Hebrews, the term “school” as in “Pauline
school” quickly comes into the picture, usually poorly defined. Out
of my own self-interest as an alleged member of a modern “school,”
I find it proper to approach the problem of the succession of gen-
erations in a typological as well as a historical sense. The title I gave
to my opening lecture in Heidelberg was “Das Problem der Genera-
tionenfolge im Urchristentum.” Here Hebrews played a major role.
The common debate then revolved around the issue of Pauline
authorship and the Roman Catholic claim of Pauline authenticity of
Hebrews. But this debate obviously has little interpretative weight.
Much more significant is the question of whether there was such a
thing as a “Pauline school.” Or was there not rather a succession
of generations, each with its own independence?
An important point of enlightenment with respect to the nature
and role of Hebrews came for me from the book of Günther Zuntz,
The Text of the Epistles: A Disquisition upon the Corpus Paulinum.2 The
book had a strong impact on me and inspired me further.
The first challenge of the book was the opposition to the com-
2
Günther Zuntz, The Text of the Epistles: A Disquisition upon the Corpus Paulinum
(The Schweich Lectures of the British Academy, 1946; London: Oxford University
Press, 1953).
hebrews and the heritage of paul 241
mon separation of textual criticism and other methodological steps

in exegesis. I know that it is very difficult to move beyond the com-
mon division of methods, especially to give up on the isolation of
textual criticism. But the arguments of Zuntz made it obvious that
the interplay of textual criticism and exegesis is not only important
for autographs, but is to be taken into account in the case of later
copyists and their collections too.
As regards the first challenge, it means that in many cases vari-
ants are not merely differences in copying of texts but the conse-
quence of revisionary activity. This includes conscious decisions about
exclusion and inclusion of documents. If Zuntz is correct in his analy-
sis that the early Pauline papyrus ∏46 shows signs of textual-critical
skill and even the presence of revisionary activity, and if there is any
inkling that the person who copied or is represented by ∏46 had
redactional interests in this collection, then why not try to push the
“who was it?” question of ∏46 much further: was there not only revi-
sionary activity involved, but independent thinking about the impact
of Paul?
This brings up another issue, namely, whether Hebrews in its orig-
inal form interprets the Epistle to the Romans. The direct relation-
ship of Hebrews and Paul found in ∏46 enhances the thesis of my
teacher William Manson that Hebrews interprets Paul, in particular
Romans.3
Manson lists a limited number of quite important terms and ideas
in Hebrews: righteousness, justification, and Christology. He adds
martyrdom, a concept usually considered marginal. Nevertheless it
occurs in key places, like Paul’s discussion of apostleship and in tra-
ditional formulae like Rom 3:24–26 and parallels.4
3
William Manson, The Epistle to the Hebrews. An Historical and Theological Reconsideration
(2d ed.; London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1953).
4
In Rom 3:24–26 and 5:9, Paul is reinterpreting martyrological traditions. In
Rom 3:24–26, the martyrological dimension is signified by the use of the term
fllastÆrion, which is found in 4 Macc 17:22 in a martyrological sense and means
there the saving effect of the death of the martyrs (in the plural). In these two pas-
sages in Romans, the term aÂma appears. It is so rare in Paul (only four times alto-
gether) that the existence of a tradition seems to be an obvious option. The saving
event is brought about by the innocent death of a certain individual (plural or sin-
gular). The concept of the death of a martyr is found in the tradition of the Lord’s
Supper in 1 Cor 10:16 and in 11:27. The notion of a tradition here appears obvi-
ous because Paul again has the death of an individual in view. Rom 8 speaks of
martyrdom too, supported by the term épolÊtrvsiw, a word that is also rare for
Paul (Rom 3:24).
242 dieter georgi
Another challenge is Zuntz’s placement of Hebrews as ∏46 does,

and the resulting consequences. Contrary to the usual order of Paul’s
letters, ∏46 and Zuntz place Hebrews after the Epistle to the Romans.
This positioning is not found in any other manuscript. It follows that
the canon of the Pauline writings is later than Hebrews. The very
fact that the positioning of Hebrews is not supported by any other
manuscript and is unique in the Church speaks for an early date of
this text.
So far the discussion has made it obvious that ∏46 is older than
all other manuscripts which we have. I propose that the collection
of the other letters going under the name of Paul was collected at
the earliest at the end of the second century. In the second gener-
ation, the other Pauline writings were collected and interpreted with
all probability under the guidance of Hebrews. A third generation
reverses the order of the writings of Paul to our present form, with
Hebrews at the end. The curious consequence of this development
is that the least Catholic letter and its tradition is claimed as authen-
tic by the Roman Catholic church.
I suggest that the composition as we have it in ∏46 gives us deci-
sive hermeneutical keys and the clue that a learned writer of the
Hellenistic-Roman age, influenced by Jewish training, was involved.
Zuntz gives the Gnosis-issue a direction that would move it beyond
the usual misunderstanding as “Weltanschauung” and into a pri-
marily hermeneutical dimension. This would easily go together with
a certain learnedness which was typical for Gnostics. Zuntz is right.
So the first two chapters of Hebrews demonstrate a close inter-
play of biblical exegesis and mythical presupposition and projection
and are quite significant, especially if read in the succession ∏46
offers.
Manson is right when he addresses major issues of the Pauline
epistles, particularly controversial ones, as arising from the attempt
by the followers of Jesus to put their relationship with the Jews on
a different level. Manson also brings the concept of martyrdom into
the discussion.
On the basis of the tradition behind ∏46 one can argue that
Hebrews redirects the understanding of righteousness, justification,
and Christology as presented by Paul in Romans, so that they no
longer function as points of polemics against or division from Jewish
tradition, but rather provide a common basis. The writer of the
hebrews and the heritage of paul 243
original copy of Hebrews, by his conscious integration of Jewish mar-

tyrdom-theology, interprets p¤stiw as “trust” rather than as “faith/
belief.”
The usual argument that Hebrews is written rather late is merely
an unfounded hypothesis. A dating of Hebrews during the time of
Domitian makes more sense because at that time we definitely have
Christian martyrs. My hypothesis therefore is that the author of
Hebrews writes his tractate under Domitian, putting behind him the
experience of Jewish and “Christian” martyrdoms, at a time when
the question of whether church and synagogue should separate was
still undecided. They are definitely not separated yet. But both have
to deal with the catastrophe of the first Jewish War and the ques-
tion whether the Pharisaic-rabbinic tradition was the only proper
representation and continuation of pre-70 Judaism. The church was
undecided on that matter. Matthew, for instance, was of the opin-
ion that the Pharisaic-rabbinic direction was the right one. It only
needed Jesus, the Christ turned into wisdom, as the basic authority.
Hebrews builds on the majority of Judaism, that of the Diaspora.
After the destruction of the temple, Diaspora Judaism had lost its
center. The majority of the Diaspora Jews were not interested in
following the Pharisaic rabbis, and the majority of the Diaspora syn-
agogue had questioned the cultic reality, importance, and functions
of the temple long before its destruction. In fact, they had replaced
it by a more or less spiritualized understanding. The Christology of
Hebrews plays a major role in this change, with Melchizedek as a
rather decisive figure. It appears to be the intention of Hebrews to
push not only the church but also Judaism at large into that direc-
tion as the proper understanding of the biblical tradition and of the
task of God’s people, not understood as anti-Jewish but as pro-Jewish.
Thus the address “to the Hebrews” may originally have been demon-
strating that the “newness” that Paul (and Hebrews) were talking
about was biblical and not anti-Jewish segregationist. There is some
polemic, particularly in Heb 13:9–11, against those who want some
material aspects of cultic activity to be brought to life again, most
probably something of a sacramental character. Hebrews is entirely
against anything like that. In this much teaching and teachers play
a role. Hebrews takes the Jewish catastrophe as a final judgment not
only against any cultic endeavors, but also against the Jewish hier-
archy—an aspect that is often overlooked.
244 dieter georgi
Under heavy influence of Deuteronomy, Hebrews understands law

most of all as parenesis. This would find some parallels in Paul’s
reinterpretation of the law. Following biblical models as well as the
Diaspora experience, the epistle offers the liberating journey through
the desert as a mode of existence for the joint venture of church
and synagogue in the future. Thus Hebrews understood “his” Paul
as a new offer for synagogue and church, not only for their survival
but also for their flourishing in a world that seemed overcome by
the powers of a demonized state.
Prof. Dr. theol. Dieter Georgi

Professor für Neues Testament (emeritus)
Johann Wolfgang Goethe-Universität Frankfurt am Main
Fachbereich 6 – Ev. Theologie, Grüneburgplatz 1
D-60629 Frankfurt am Main, Germany
PAUL AND HEBREWS:
A COMPARISON OF NARRATIVE WORLDS
James C. Miller
With his1 opening words, carefully chosen and highly stylized, the
author of Hebrews begins2 establishing the perspective within which
he wants the lengthy exhortation that follows to be understood. Here,
I quote only the first lines:
Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by
the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son,
whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created
the worlds. (Heb 1:1–2)3
What often passes unnoticed is the thoroughgoing narrative charac-
ter of this statement. Here we find events and actions, characters
and characterization, all set within a temporal framework. In other
words, when the author of Hebrews defines the terms framing his
argument, he narrates the history of God’s speaking.4
Although elements of narrative identified in the letters of Paul
have been subject to analysis,5 little, to my knowledge, has been done
to study narrative components in Hebrews.6 This paper makes an
1
In using the male pronoun, I am making no judgment regarding the identity
of the author. I merely use the pronoun for the sake of convenience. Cf. Pamela
M. Eisenbaum, The Jewish Heroes of Christian History: Hebrews 11 in Literary Context
(SBLDS 156; Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1997) 2 n. 4.
2
Craig R. Koester contends that this setting of perspective continues through
Heb 2:4. See Hebrews (AB 36; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 174.
3
All quotations from Scripture are taken from the nrsv unless otherwise noted.
4
See, for example, Otto Michel, Der Brief an die Hebräer (12th ed.; KEK; Göttingen:
Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966), 92–93.
5
For an overview, see Bruce W. Longenecker, “The Narrative Approach to Paul:
An Early Retrospective,” Currents in Biblical Research 1 (2002): 88–111 and idem,
“Narrative Interest in the Study of Paul: Retrospective and Prospective,” in Narrative
Dynamics in Paul: A Critical Assessment (ed. Bruce W. Longenecker; Louisville: West-
minster/John Knox, 2002), 3–16.
6
For studies incorporating attention to narrative, see Harold W. Attridge, “God
In Hebrews: Urging Children to Heavenly Glory,” in The Forgotten God: Perspectives
in Biblical Theology. Essays in Honor of Paul J. Achtemeier (ed. A. Andrew Das and Frank
J. Matera; Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 2002), 199–202 and Luke Timothy
Johnson, “The Scriptural World of Hebrews,” Int 57 (2003): 237–250. Iutisone
246 james c. miller
initial attempt to address this lacuna by comparing the writings of

Paul and the exhortation known as “Hebrews” on the basis of the
“narrative world” found in each. I do not presume that in such short
space I can fully address the subject with either writer, nor can I
make a thorough, detailed comparison of their writings. Rather, I
seek to describe the fundamental narrative dynamics apparent in
both writers and, on that basis, analyze their similarities and differences
with regard to a few select issues.
After a brief explanation of terms and method, I will first con-
struct a synthesis of the “narrative world” depicted in Hebrews. I
will then turn to the same task for Paul using the seven generally
accepted letters of Paul. Finally, I will make several closing obser-
vations, comparing and contrasting elements in the narrative worlds
of both.
Definition and Method
Owing to the debates surrounding the definition and function of

“story” or “narrative” in Paul7 (I use the terms interchangeably in
what follows), a word about methodology is in order. Once again,
space does not permit a full explanation. Here, I can only high-
light what guides the following investigation.8 Two key terms or con-
cepts require definition: narrative world and story (or narrative). In
addition, I need to make clear the methodology that underlies my
investigation.
Narrative World. Everyone inhabits some imaginative understanding
of the world. Scholars refer to such a construct as a “symbolic world”
or “symbolic universe.”9 A symbolic world is a social product that
Salevao’s study of Hebrews also recognizes that a symbolic world contains a nar-
rative component (Legitimation in the Letter to the Hebrews [ JSNTSup 219; Sheffield:
Sheffield Academic Press, 2002], esp. 59–60). Kenneth Schenck’s Understanding the
Book of Hebrews: The Story Behind the Sermon (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 2003)
appeared too late for me to incorporate it into this article.
7
See, for example, the viewpoints expressed in Longenecker, Narrative Dynamics.
8
Stories may take multiple forms and perform varied functions. Furthermore,
within texts, narratives may be told in full, portrayed in part, restated in non-
narrative fashion, or merely alluded to. These factors enable story to resist precise
definition.
9
The concept stems from the work of Peter L. Berger and Thomas Luckmann,
The Social Construction of Reality (New York: Doubleday, 1966). For an astute sum-
mary and critique of Berger and Luckmann, see David G. Horrell, The Social Ethos
paul and hebrews 247
performs several vital functions in the life of an individual or group.

It provides a framework for comprehending reality, so enabling a
group to order and make sense of its environment. Furthermore, a
symbolic world shapes a group’s sense of norms, identity, and pur-
pose. Understanding who we are is inseparable from knowing where
we are in the kind of world in which we live. Thus a symbolic world
is a socially created and shared set of assumptions about the way
the world just “is,” how it works, and our place within it.10
Narratives form an essential component of symbolic worlds. Stories
inform answers to questions such as: Who are we? What kind of
world do we live in? How did our circumstances come to be what
they are, for good or ill? What kind of possibilities can our future
hold?11 Stories, in other words, help create a “world” within which
a group imaginatively lives out its life.
When I speak of the “narrative world” of Hebrews (or Paul), I
am asking about the stories found in that writing that portray some-
thing of the “world” imagined or created by the author.12 In other
words, what do the stories we find in Hebrews tell us about the way
the world just is, how it works, and the sense of place the author
imaginatively inhabits within it? Furthermore, and of crucial impor-
tance, what place do the auditors of Hebrews occupy within this
world?13
Story. Stories involve characters, settings, and events. Fundamentally,
while involving characters and taking place in settings, stories consist
of the Corinthian Correspondence (SNTW; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 39–45. On

the symbolic world/universe of Hebrews, see Salevao, Legitimation, esp. 11–94, for
the theory behind the concept. Johnson, “The Scriptural World of Hebrews,” exam-
ines the “world” created by Hebrews’ interpretation of Scripture.
10
J. Ross Wagner speaks of “narrative” or “story” as “the way people articulate
the larger conceptions they hold concerning the cosmos and their place in it.”
J. Ross Wagner, Heralds of the Good News: Isaiah and Paul “In Concert” in the Letter to
the Romans (NovTSup 101; Leiden: Brill, 2002), 29 n. 102.
11
These questions, of course, echo those enumerated by N. T. Wright, The New
Testament and the People of God (Fortress: Minneapolis: 1992), 123, and repeated at
several points in Wright’s prolific published works. Wright draws this manner of
framing the matter from Brian J. Walsh and J. Richard Middleton, The Transforming
Vision (Downers Grove: IVP, 1984), 35.
12
We must always keep in mind that, as social creations, such worlds are dynamic,
changing phenomena. Transformations may occur between Paul’s early and later
letters. For the sake of this investigation, I must assume a relatively stable narra-
tive world at the broad level with which I am working in this paper.
13
My assumption is that Hebrews and the letters of Paul function pastorally to
persuade their auditors to inhabit the world created by those writings.
248 james c. miller
of meaningfully related events ordered chronologically. As such, they

can be perceived as a unity. Richard B. Hays writes, “Each new
event must be an intelligible—though not necessarily predictable—
development of the events which precede it.”14 Thus events form a
narrative when they display a sequential coherence.
In light of these characteristics, Robin Scroggs’s observation regard-
ing Paul becomes noteworthy. Scroggs remarks that, when reading
Paul theologically, he is “surprised at the overwhelming quantity of
statements that fall into the often-maligned category of salvation his-
tory.” Scroggs goes on to define salvation history as follows: “Paul
is conscious of being a part of an ongoing history in which God,
the central actor, relates to a people with an ultimate aim.”15 In
other words, here is a series of events (“ongoing history”) with a
sequential coherence (“an ultimate aim”). I find Scroggs’s account on
target not only for Paul, but for Hebrews as well. Thus Paul’s letters
as well as Hebrews incorporate the crucial elements of narrative.
Yet stories may be recounted in more than one way. They can
be retold in narrative fashion or they can be described in a non-
narrative manner in such a way that it captures the essence or overall
pattern (dianoia) of the story. Hays has demonstrated, for example,
how the phrase p¤stiw ÉIhsoË XristoË in Galatians, though a non-
narrative utterance, evokes a larger story of Jesus’ redemptive actions.16
Because such non-narrative descriptions remain inseparable from
the narrative whose essence they describe, it is both legitimate and
possible to ask about the narrative in which such a statement is
rooted.17 In what follows, I will be looking to put together narra-
tives from the references to events, characters, and settings strewn
about in largely non-narrative fashion in the letters of Paul and in
Hebrews.
Method. In light of the above discussion of narrative world and
story, the questions that guide this inquiry are as follows: What events
14
Richard B. Hays, The Faith of Jesus Christ (2d ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
2002), 194–195.
15
Robin Scroggs, “Salvation History,” in Pauline Theology, vol. 1, Thessalonians,
Philippians, Galatians, Philemon (ed. Jouette M. Bassler; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991),
215. We will return to the troubled concept of “salvation history” below.
16
Hays, Faith.
17
See Hays, Faith, 22–24, 28.
recounted in these writings, when arranged in chronological order,

form a meaningful sequence of events? What characters take part in
these events and in what settings do they occur? Which of these
stories constitute leading elements of a “narrative world” in these
writings?
My procedure with each author consists of portraying larger, all-
encompassing narratives first. I then work to construct the key sub-
plots within these larger stories. In addition, I examine how the
appeals made to the audiences in these writings emerge from the
place where these people are emplotted within the various settings,
characters, and events depicted in those writings.
I contend that such a descriptive progression, moving from broad
narratives to subplots within those stories, offers the best method for
reconstructing a narrative world from these texts. Larger narratives
provide the contexts within which the smaller stories gain their
significance. Without the perspective available only through an aware-
ness of the “big picture,” the meaning of the subplots risks becom-
ing distorted. In all of this, the tests for success are whether these
reconstructions accurately reflect what we find in the writings under
consideration and whether they help us make sense of the docu-
ments themselves.
One final methodological comment requires notice. I have cho-
sen to compare Hebrews with the corpus of generally accepted Pauline
letters rather than with any one letter of Paul’s. Such an approach
offers the advantage of a more thorough analysis of Paul. At the
same time, however, it runs into problems associated with harmo-
nizing the content of arguments addressed to differing historical cir-
cumstances. Once again, a thorough apology for the approach
employed here goes beyond the scope of this article. Here I only
note my cognizance of the advantages and disadvantages associated
with the choice of source material for my reconstruction of Paul’s
narrative world.
Hebrews
Larger Narrative Elements. The most comprehensive narrative reflected

in Hebrews concerns the God who spoke in the past, speaks in the
present, and will once again speak in the future. The “living” God
250 james c. miller
(Heb 3:12; 9:14; 10:31; 12:22) looms over all persons and events in
the sermon.18 Its story is of a world created, upheld, called to account,
and carried to its end by God “speaking.”19
The settings of this world need to be considered from two inter-
related perspectives: the spatial and the temporal. Spatial settings
consist of the earth and the heavens. The latter realm is not clearly
defined,20 but is one where God, God’s exalted Son, and angels
dwell.21 The earth will pass away, but heaven will endure (Heb
1:10–12; 12:26–28). When Jesus returns, the faithful will join the
assembly worshiping in heaven.
The temporal setting involves two consecutive though momentar-
ily overlapping ages.22 The first, now passing, is being replaced dur-
ing “these last days” by the age to come. This first age will end and
the age to come will arrive in its fullness when Jesus returns. At that
time, God’s enemies will be judged, God’s people will receive their
salvation, and all things will be placed in submission to Jesus. For
the present, these two periods of time overlap; God’s Son reigns,
but not everything is yet seen placed under his feet (Heb 1:13; 2:8).
One further narrative element in Hebrews warrants mention. Be-
ginning with Abraham, to whom God promised blessing and numer-
ous descendants, God made commitments concerning God’s people.23
Hebrews describes the future culmination of these promises variously:
18
See, for example, the comments of Harold W. Attridge (“God in Hebrews,”
197) regarding God as the “indispensable horizon” within which the actions of Jesus
make sense in Hebrews.
19
The opening words of the exhortation establish the significance of God speak-
ing and the seriousness of what God speaks and has spoken (Heb 1:1–4). This
theme then permeates Hebrews, closing the exhortation as well (Heb 12:25). The
references are too numerous to list here.
20
Marie E. Isaacs, Sacred Space ( JSNTSup 73; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992),
205–211.
21
On the spatial dimension in Hebrews and its relation to the temporal, the
most complete discussion remains that of Isaacs, Sacred Space.
22
Michel writes, “Der Hebr steht innerhalb einer christlichen Tradition, die starke
Motive der Apokalyptik aufgenommen . . . hat.” (Hebräer, 58). On time and escha-
tology in Hebrews, see esp. C. K. Barrett, “The Eschatology of the Epistle to the
Hebrews,” in The Background of the New Testament and Its Eschatology (ed. W. D. Davies
and David Daube; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1956), 363–393; Koester,
Hebrews, 100–104; Mathias Rissi, Die Theologie des Hebräerbriefs (WUNT 41; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 125–30; David A. deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude (Grand
Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 27–32.
23
According to Craig R. Koester (Hebrews, 111), the word “promise” in Hebrews
stands for “the word or pledge that people initially receive from God as well as for
the substance they receive when God fulfills his commitment.”
an “eternal inheritance” (Heb 9:15); “rest” (Heb 3:7–4:11); “perfec-

tion” (Heb 10:14; 11:40; 12:23); “(eternal) salvation” (Heb 1:14; 2:3;
5:9; 6:9; 9:28); arrival at the heavenly city (Heb 11:10); and, per-
haps most importantly, “access to (the presence of ) God.”24 The
author depicts his auditors as sojourning in the wilderness of the
world toward this goal.25 Thus this dynamic involves both charac-
ters (auditors) and a setting (a journey in the world toward a heav-
enly city).
Subplots. In order to properly grasp the force of the author’s exhor-
tations, one must plot the hearers at the proper location amidst the
characters, settings and events that form the subplots along this
journey between promise and final fulfillment. These subplots con-
cern attempts to address the primary obstacle impeding access to
God—sin and its consequent impurity. We can identify four such
stories that form substantive subplots in the argument of Hebrews:
the story of the first and second covenants; the story of Jesus; the
story of God’s people in the past; and the story of God’s people in
the present.
Subplot 1: The Story of Two Covenants. God entered into a covenant
relationship with Israel at Mt. Sinai, instituting a system of sacrifices
in order to address the problem of impurity.26 Under this arrange-
ment, after first offering sacrifice for their own purification, priests
24
Heb 4:16; 6:19–20a; 7:25; 12:22–24. Note the conclusion (beginning at Heb
10:19) drawn from the extensive argument (Heb 8:1–10:18) concerning the true
tabernacle in which Christ’s priestly service takes place: “Since we have confidence
to enter the Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way he opened . . .”
(my translation). Regarding the multiple conceptions of salvation, Isaacs (Sacred Space,
206) observes that the “various models of salvation” employed in Hebrews result
in different images of heaven as “place” as well. John Dunnill (Covenant and Sacrifice
in the Letter to the Hebrews [SNTSMS 75; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1992], 134–148) also notes how Hebrews employs overlapping symbols to convey
ideas of sacred time and sacred space.
25
In the hortatory components of the sermon, note how the author weaves
together references to the audience’s past and to their need to persevere through
present struggles toward a future destination. This dynamic, plus the explicit com-
parisons made between Israel in the wilderness and the auditors, creates the dis-
tinct impression that the audience is conceived of as journeying toward a heavenly
destination (Heb 12:22).
26
Isaacs states (Sacred Space, 91), “the sacrificial system was intended to remove
the barrier of sin which hinders the worshipper’s approach to God.” The author’s
description and evaluation of the two covenants primarily runs from Heb 4:14–10:18.
Because of the repeated nature of many of his points and in order not to clutter
the text with references, citations of the text of Hebrews are kept to a minimum
in the following paragraphs.
252 james c. miller
entered the holy of holies in the tabernacle once a year in order to

make sacrifice for the people. This covenant also involved a respon-
sive obedience on Israel’s part, an obedience that entailed enduring
hardships while awaiting the fulfillment of God’s promised rest. In
other words, the covenant required faith/faithfulness.
This covenant and its requisite means of sanctification, however,
were never intended to be final. The repeated sacrifices, carried out
by weak human priests in an earthly tabernacle, provided temporary,
external cleansing and, thus, imperfect access to God. Furthermore,
God spoke of yet another priesthood and covenant that was to come.
Such a future priesthood would offer a perfect sacrifice for sin, once
for all. This new covenant promised internal purification and for-
giveness of sin. As a remedy for impurity, therefore, the first covenant
was provisional and anticipatory.
Yet now, “in these last days,” God has spoken once again, inau-
gurating a new covenant. This covenant remains far superior to the
old in every way. Above all else, it offers an atoning sacrifice, once
for all, in the heavenly tabernacle by a sinless, perfect, sympathetic,
and eternal high priest—God’s own son, Jesus—who now sits enthroned
at God’s right hand, the first to cross over into heaven. From there,
in God’s own presence, in the true holy of holies, he waits to assist
those who will follow and join him.
This temporal and spatial setting of the two covenants provides
crucial components of the narrative context for the exhortations found
in the sermon. The old age is coming to a close and, as part of that
development, the first covenant has been abrogated.27 The auditors
stand at the dawn of the new age with its new, superior covenant.
Jesus has entered into God’s presence, going to a place where the
faithful will soon follow. Yet they must first navigate the time between
their present setting and the next scene of the divine drama.
Subplot 2: The Journey of Jesus.28 The story of Jesus entails a sojourn
through utmost abasement to highest glory. Jesus was made like
human beings in all things, enduring human suffering. Yet he remained
27
Heb 7:18. According to Moulton and Milligan, éy°thsiw was used as part of
a legal formula signifying the annulment of a contract. See James H. Moulton and
George Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament (London: Hodder and Stoughton,
1930), 13.
28
The key passages here are Heb 2:5–3:6; 4:14–5:10; 7:24–8:6; 9:11–10:18;
12:2–3. Once again, the sizeable number of references for each point in what follows
makes it more economical to call attention to these important sections in general.
steadfastly faithful to God in the midst of this affliction. Such faith-

fulness ultimately entailed his presentation of his own life as a sin-
offering, once for all, making Jesus the high priest and mediator of
the new, much better covenant.
As a result, God raised Jesus from the dead and exalted him to
God’s right hand.29 Jesus has thus entered into the most holy place,
into God’s own presence in heaven, by his faithful obedience blaz-
ing the path for God’s people to follow. Soon all things30 will be
placed under his rule. At present, from his exalted vantage point,
he lives to make intercession for God’s people. Thus Jesus’ journey
involves faithful endurance through humility, abasement, and suffering
to exaltation and honor in God’s presence.
Subplot 3: The Story of God’s People in the Past. In the past, with the
generation that was delivered from Egypt, God’s people faced the
opportunity of entering God’s rest (Heb 3:7–4:11). Although they
had heard the good news (Heb 4:2, 6) and were poised on the edge
of entering the promised land, they refused to believe. Disobedient,
they died in the wilderness as a result. God still spoke, however, of
a “rest” for God’s people yet to come. Hence a rest, though missed
by the Exodus generation, remains a possibility for God’s people
(Heb 4:9–11).
Yet the story of God’s people in the past also portrays examples
of faithfulness (Heb 6:13–15). Hebrews 11 catalogs models of such
loyalty. These exemplars now stand as “witnesses,” spurring God’s
people toward similar devotion (Heb 12:1).
Subplot 4: The Story of God’s People in the Present. (In order to con-
vey the admonitive force of the story more vividly, I will phrase the
following in the first person.) Although we hope for Jesus’ coming
reign, when we will experience glory and honor, our experience has
not matched our hopes. We are still subject to death (Heb 2:14–15).
Furthermore, we have suffered shame, abuse, persecution, and loss
of possessions and status (Heb 10:32–34). As a result, some of us
have become weary, longing for the comfort that familiarity over
29
Note that emphasis on Jesus’ exaltation at God’s right hand both begins
and ends the body of Hebrews (Heb 1:3; 12:25 [introducing the final, climactic
exhortations]).
30
The quotation from Ps 110:1 in Heb 1:13 is used to indicate that God will
make Jesus’ enemies a footstool for Jesus’ feet. The identity of these §xyro¤, how-
ever, is left indefinite in Hebrews.
254 james c. miller
time has bred with the system of purification specified under the first
covenant.
Yet, poised on the brink of the new age, we are in danger of fol-
lowing the mistake of our ancestors in the wilderness (Heb 4:11).
Rather than enduring their hardships in confident assurance of bet-
ter things to come, they refused to believe, drifting away from their
hope. Consequently, their sojourn ended in failure and judgment.
To place our hope for access to God in the mechanics of the first
covenant would be to repeat their error and suffer their end.
Unlike the wilderness generation of the past, therefore, we must
move on31 through our wilderness toward greater maturity and, ulti-
mately, enter God’s rest. Like the heroes of faith in the past, who
endured hardship and dishonor in hope of better things to come
(Heb 11:1–12:3), we must remain faithful in our present circum-
stances until the end. Not only that, we must spare no effort in
assisting our fellow believers on this sojourn as well (Heb 10:24–25;
13:1–17).
More precisely, we must follow the footsteps of the journey pio-
neered by Jesus through suffering, in the hope that we will join him
in God’s presence (Heb 12:1–3). Like him, we must endure suffering
and shame, and with his assistance remain steadfast in our faith.
Like him, we must hold fast (Heb 3:6; 4:14) to our hope of joining
him in God’s presence by means of his superior sacrifice for sin. In
other words, like Jesus, we must run our race in such a way that
we “hold our first confidence firm until the end” (Heb 3:14). Only
then will we arrive at the ultimate destination of our journey, the
city of the living God. There we will join the angels and the elect
in the heavenly assembly in the presence of God and Jesus (Heb
12:22–24).
Salvation, therefore, remains in another time, the near future, and
is located in another place, the heavenly realm.32 Yet the identity of
Jesus, his priestly work, and his presence at God’s right hand33 make
such a salvation certain for those who remain faithful.
31
Surveying the verbs used in the positive exhortations in Hebrews, Susanne
Lehne notes that many imply movement: draw near (Heb 4:16; 10:19–25), enter
(Heb 10:19–25), run (Heb 12:1–4), go forth (Heb 13:9–16). See The New Covenant
in Hebrews ( JSNTSup 44; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990), 105–106.
32
Regarding the temporal and spatial aspects of salvation, once again, see Isaacs,
Sacred Space, 218.
33
Attridge (Hebrews, 36) writes, “the decisive nature of God’s eschatological salvific
action . . . is based upon two elements which determine the whole Christology of
Paul and His Stories 34
Larger Narrative Elements. As with Hebrews, I begin with an introduc-

tion to the main actors, events and settings depicted in the narra-
tive world of Paul’s letters before describing the principal subplots.
After synthesizing the material of several letters, I conclude by using
Romans as a specific example of how the narrative world depicted
in one letter contributes to the major exhortation of that letter.
The one creator God—sovereign, purposeful, holy, faithful and
just—serves as the primary actor in Paul’s world. Although God’s
creation has been corrupted by the entrance of sin and death, God,
through Jesus Christ and the Spirit, is in the process of setting all
of creation aright (Rom 8:18–21).35 The pivotal event in this turn
toward renewal is Jesus’ death and resurrection. This grand narra-
tive stretching from creation through corrupted creation to renewed
creation forms the broad context within which the various subplots
gain their meaning.
Adam and Jesus stand as pivotal figures within this narrative, each
determining by their actions the distinct, contrasting characters of
two consecutive “ages” of human history. Adam, through his one
act of disobedience, introduced sin and death into human experi-
ence. Consequently, sin “reigned” over all human beings as creation
itself entered into a state of bondage (Rom 5:12; 8:20–21). This
Hebrews, the status of Christ as the exalted Son and the sacrificial, priestly act by
which he effected atonement for sin.”
34
Analyses of narrative in Paul (or “salvation history”) are numerous. See
Longenecker, “The Narrative Approach to Paul: An Early Retrospective”; Longenecker,
Narrative Dynamics; and Hays, Faith. In addition, see the following essays in Jouette
M. Bassler, Pauline Theology, vol. 1, Thessalonians, Philippians, Galatians, Philemon: N. T.
Wright, “Putting Paul Together Again” (183–211); Robin Scroggs, “Salvation History”
(212–226); Richard B. Hays, “Crucified with Christ” (227–246); David J. Lull,
“Salvation History” (247–265). See also A. Katherine Grieb, The Story of Romans: A
Narrative Defense of God’s Righteousness (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 2002), who
synthesizes much of the recent work of others, and J. Ross Wagner, Heralds of the
Good News. The older works of C. H. Dodd, though not exclusively concerned with
Paul, emphasize the narrative dimension of the early Christian kerygma. See his
According to the Scriptures (New York: Charles Scribners’ Sons, 1953) and The Apostolic
Preaching and Its Developments (New York: Harper & Row, 1964).
35
If a Grand Narrative exists for Paul, one may properly label it “creation his-
tory” rather than “salvation history.” Cf. Edward Adams, “Paul’s Story of God and
Creation,” in Longenecker, Narrative Dynamics in Paul, 38. Adams does not believe,
however, that Paul’s theology can be subsumed “under one all-encompassing ‘story’”
(ibid., 42).
256 james c. miller
period of time, inaugurated by Adam, Paul refers to as “this pre-

sent evil age” (Gal 1:4). Thus Adam, sin, and death serve as cen-
tral characters in Paul’s world, with sin acting as a key ruler and
force in the moral domain.
Jesus, through his one act of obedience, brought righteousness and
life so that grace might reign (Rom 5:18, 21). Jesus’ atoning death
to sin and his resurrection effected the beginning of the end of the
Adamic age of sin and death (Rom 3:25; 6:10). Jesus’ resurrection
marked the introduction of the powers of the “age to come,” a time
when life and peace rule. The old age will come to a complete end
and the new age will arrive in its fullness when Jesus returns. At
that time, all authorities, powers, kingdoms, and beings—whether
human or suprahuman—will confess Jesus’ lordship (Phil 2:11).
Furthermore, all humanity and all such rulers and powers will face
judgment, the dead in Christ will be raised, Jesus will hand over the
kingdom to God the Father, and death will be vanquished once and
for all (1 Cor 15:20–28). In effect, then, two characters, Adam and
Jesus, create two distinct yet overlapping settings wherein the human
dimension of the narrative plays out.
Subplots. Within these overarching events, characters, and settings
we can identify several key subplots and characters in Paul’s narra-
tive world: God’s people, the story of Jesus, and the story of Paul
himself.
Subplot 1: God’s People.36 Long ago, God promised Abraham that
God would bless all nations through him (Gal 3:6–9). God subse-
quently entered into a covenant with Abraham’s descendants at Mt.
Sinai in order to carry out that purpose through them (Rom 2:17–24).37
Yet Israel repeatedly proved to be a stubborn and rebellious peo-
ple, demonstrating that they lived under the Adamic reign of sin,
36
The next several paragraphs follow Richard B. Hays, “Crucified with Christ:
A Synthesis of the Theology of 1 and 2 Thessalonians, Philemon, Philippians, and
Galatians,” in Pauline Theology, vol. 1, Thessalonians, Philippians, Galatians, Philemon,
232–233.
37
Paul nowhere states this point clearly, though it is present by implication in
his charge that “the name of God is blasphemed among the Gentiles because of
you” (Rom 2:24 [Isa 52:5]). With the exception of N. T. Wright’s work, Paul’s
understanding of God’s purposes for Israel under the Mosaic covenant remains an
underdeveloped subject in Pauline studies. Wright’s thesis, however, that God called
Israel so that sin may be piled up in one place and dealt with there, has not
received widespread approval. Without doubt, though, Wright is asking the crucial
questions largely ignored by other scholars.
just like the Gentiles. They too, therefore, lived subject to God’s
eschatological wrath (Rom 2:17–29; 3:9, 23).
The Mosaic Law, belonging to the old age, had a temporary role.
Within God’s purposes, the Law was intended to serve as a guardian
to discipline God’s people until the appearance of the Messiah (Gal
3:19–25). Yet, because of Adamic sin, the Law actually provoked
Israel to disbelief/disobedience (Rom 7:7–23). As an ineffective rem-
edy for sin, therefore, it actually became an instrument of bondage
for Israel (Gal 3:12–13; Rom 7:7–25).
Jesus’ death and resurrection result in several developments for
God’s people. First, on the basis of faith—Jesus’ faithfulness followed
by human faith—God’s promise to Abraham has now been fulfilled.
The Gentiles are now joining Jews on an equal basis in the one,
holy, eschatological people of God (Rom 15:7–12 [and ot quota-
tions found there]; Gal 3:14). The divine purpose for the present
time, therefore, consists of the formation of this people who stand
joined to and in continuity with Israel, but who are also drawn from
beyond it. The identity of this people is found in Jesus the Messiah
rather than in Mosaic Law (Rom 10:4).
Secondly, those joined to Christ are freed from the reign of sin
by the power of the Spirit (Rom 8:1–4) in order to live a new life
as part of the “new creation” (Rom 6:4; 2 Cor 5:17). They have,
in effect, switched “lords.” Now living under the Lordship of Jesus
(Rom 10:9), they belong to ekklesiai of the Lord’s kingdom, colonies
of alternative communities that bear witness to their servant-Lord
(Phil 1:27; 3:20).38 As such, they are to live “pure and blameless”
lives that are “worthy of the gospel of Christ” (Phil 1:10, 27). The
defining action of these people is worship of God (Rom 6:13; 12:1–2)
manifested in faith/obedience patterned after that of Jesus. Thus we
see the character and identity of this new people.
Thirdly, Paul and his contemporaries must still live “between the
times,” a time of conflict between the powers of the old age that
are “passing away” (1 Cor 2:6) and the powers of the new age that
are present only in part. The Spirit’s power, therefore, must con-
tinually be appropriated (Rom 6:11–13; 12:2). Yet the final outcome
of this conflict does not remain in doubt, since these people are part
of the eschatological restoration of creation. As with the children of
38
I owe this way of phrasing the matter to Michael J. Gorman, Cruciformity: Paul’s
Narrative Spirituality of the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 364.
258 james c. miller
Israel in the Exodus from Egypt, they are children freed from bondage
and led by the Spirit (Rom 8:14–17). Yet they too must suffer while
they await their inheritance (Rom 8:18–39).39 Those “in Christ,”
therefore, rejoice in the hope of their salvation, a salvation to be
finalized when Jesus returns.
Subplot 2: The Journey of Jesus.40 Jesus’ own story bears great
significance for those united with him (Phil 2:1–11; Rom 6:1–13;
2 Cor 8:9). Though equal to God, Jesus refused to exploit his sta-
tus. Rather, he willingly humbled himself, becoming human and
remaining faithful to God until his death on a cross.41 As a result,
God raised Jesus from the dead and seated him as Lord at God’s
right hand. Jesus’ story, therefore, embodies patterns of reversal
(humiliation followed by exaltation), of voluntary self-humbling (includ-
ing renunciation of status), of self-giving, and of obedience.42
This example of humble, loving service forms the basic narrative
pattern for the life of the community (cf. Gal 2:20; 4:12). In embody-
ing Jesus’ self-giving manner of life (Phil 2:5), the community of
God’s people tells the story of how God’s love was made known in
Jesus. Such a lifestyle is only possible by the enablement of the Spirit,
and can be characterized as “faith working through love” (Gal 5:6).
Such behavior fulfills the “Law of Christ” (Gal 2:20). Thus the expe-
riential “spirituality” of these colonies of God’s kingdom should be
like that of Jesus—cruciform in nature.43
Subplot 3: Paul. Paul’s apostolic task consists of announcing the
gospel, the Lordship of Jesus Christ (Rom 1:1–4), in contrast to all
other false gospels.44 In particular, Paul’s calling involves making cru-
39
See Sylvia C. Keesmaat, Paul and His Story: (Re)interpreting the Exodus Tradition
( JSNTSup 181; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 96. Keesmaat details the
Exodus themes prevalent in Rom 8, themes that shape the dynamics of the nar-
rative world apparent in Paul’s argument.
40
The following three paragraphs are indebted to the overall argument of Gorman,
Cruciformity.
41
Jesus’ death is characterized as an act of obedience (Phil 2:8; Gal 1:4; Rom
5:19), of love (Rom 5:8; Gal 2:20), and of faithfulness (Gal 2:20; 3:22; Rom 3:22,
25, 26).
42
Gorman, Cruciformity, 90–91.
43
Gorman fleshes out how this works in greater detail than is possible or nec-
essary here. The point, for my purposes, is that Jesus’ pattern of life serves as the
design for Paul’s communities to embody.
44
Gorman (Cruciformity, 349) writes that Paul’s “mission was to announce the
gospel of Jesus Christ as the true Lord of all—in continuity with the God of Israel
and in contrast to the counterfeit lord, the Roman emperor—and to form visible
alternative communities of cruciformity animated and governed by this true Lord.”
ciform communities of the one, eschatological people of God, living

under Jesus’ Lordship (Rom 1:5; 15:18; 16:26). For Paul, that entails
going primarily to the Gentiles, incorporating them into the people
of God (Rom 1:5; 15:18; 16:26) as an offering to God (Rom 15:16).45
Romans. As with Hebrews, Paul’s instructions to his churches must
be understood by plotting his auditors within these settings and in
relation to the characters inhabiting this larger story and its various
subplots. For example, Romans is written to various house groups
of Christ-followers who are divided roughly along Jew/Gentile lines
regarding matters of observance or non-observance of the Mosaic
Law.46 Paul first traces God’s historic dealings with both Jews and
Gentiles (Rom 1–11). He then explains how they should therefore
live in a manner that honors God (Rom 12:1–15:13). Those instruc-
tions culminate with the admonition at Rom 15:7 that they, Jews
and Gentiles, should accept one another in the same way Jesus
embraced them. Paul supports that exhortation with quotations drawn
from the Law, Prophets, and Writings, passages that all speak of
Gentiles praising God.
Expressed in the first person, this is the force of the concluding
exhortation as it flows from the narrative world47 depicted in the let-
ter: We, Jewish and Gentile followers of Jesus, live at the time Moses,
David, and Isaiah foresaw. God has demonstrated his faithfulness to
both Jews and Gentiles through the atoning death and resurrection
of Jesus Christ. Led by the Spirit and leaving behind those aspects
of our identity belonging to the Adamic age, we must embrace our
call as part of God’s eschatological people and, like Jesus, accept
one another.
Comparisons and Contrasts: Hebrews and Paul
The differing rhetorical situations addressed by Hebrews and the

undisputed Pauline writings complicate the task of making compar-
isons between them. Students of Paul know the difficulties created
45
Each aspect of this call shapes the instructions found in his letters. Paul first
and foremost seeks to shape groups of Christ-followers in a particular fashion.
46
The following comments on Romans rest upon the argument laid out in James
C. Miller, The Obedience of Faith, the Eschatological People of God, and the Purpose of Romans
(SBLDS 177; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2000).
47
For a thorough analysis of the narrative elements found in Romans, see Grieb,
The Story of Romans.
260 james c. miller
by this dynamic even when comparing Paul’s own letters.48 For this
reason alone, differences between the writings rather than similari-
ties should be expected. In what follows, therefore, I will draw atten-
tion primarily, though not exclusively, to parallels between Hebrews
and Paul.
Priesthood. Having stated my intention to look for comparisons, let
me begin by noting an interesting contrast. Hebrews dwells on the
issue of priesthood like no other writing in the New Testament. For
the writer of Hebrews, the priestly ministry of the Old Covenant no
longer plays any role in the life of God’s people. One true priest,
the exalted Jesus, the mediator of a better covenant, now conducts
the genuine sacerdotal ministry in the heavenly sanctuary.49 Thus
Jesus’ ministry, specifically in its priestly dimensions, plays a vital
role in Hebrews’ world.
In Paul, however, the language of priestly ministry applied to Jesus
remains absent altogether.50 When Paul speaks of priestly work, he
uses it to describe his own vocation (Rom 15:16) or to characterize
the basic responsibility of his auditors in response to his apostolic
ministry (Rom 6:13, 16, 19; esp. Rom 12:1–3).51 In Rom 15:16, Paul
portrays his calling as “the priestly service of the gospel of God”
(flerourgoËnta tÚ eÈagg°lion toË yeoË) whose sacrifice is the Gentiles.
Although Paul’s language is certainly metaphorical here,52 it never-
48
The differences (and similarities) between Paul’s treatment of Israel and the
Law in Romans and Galatians offer a sterling example of this phenomenon. The
narrative studies in Longenecker, Narrative Dynamics, highlight an intriguing array of
comparisons/contrasts regarding specific narrative themes in these two letters.
49
Contra John M. Scholer, Proleptic Priests: Priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrews
( JSNTSup 49; Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991). Scholer argues that believers will have
“access” to God, a priestly prerogative, when Jesus returns and full salvation is
theirs. Thus their current priesthood is “proleptic,” anticipatory of a complete priest-
hood to come. I contend that priesthood in Hebrews, present and future, applies
to Jesus alone. Jesus’ perfect priesthood guarantees the community’s access to God,
but having “access to God” does not makes believers priests. The “sacrifice of
praise” commended in Heb 13:15 derives from the practice depicted in the Psalter
where a prayer of thanks is offered, not an animal (see the references in Attridge,
Hebrews, 400 n. 137). Thus the sacrifice encouraged here is not a priestly function.
50
Jesus’ death becomes a sacrifice of atonement (Rom 3:25; 8:3). Yet Paul never
describes Jesus’ ministry or actions in priestly terms.
51
I take the “mercy” of Rom 12:1 to be the mercy by which God called Paul.
Cf. Rom 12:3. On this matter, see Miller, The Obedience of Faith, 158–159, and
Victor Paul Furnish, Theology and Ethics in Paul (Nashville: Abingdon, 1968), 102.
52
This is the case when Paul uses the language of “sacrifice” elsewhere with ref-
erence to followers of Christ. Cf. not only the passages in Rom 6 and 12, but also
Phil 2:17 and 4:18.
theless expresses a central element of Paul’s apostolic self-under-

standing.53 In other words, it captures Paul’s sense of his place within
his world. Given the role Jesus’ priesthood plays in the world of
Hebrews, it is difficult to imagine the writer of Hebrews using a
priestly metaphor to describe the ministry of anyone other than Jesus.
The Story of Jesus. One of the remarkable similarities between these
authors concerns the story of Jesus. In particular, we can detect
strong parallels between the depiction of Jesus’ “journey” in Hebrews
and the stylized portrayal of Jesus found in Phil 2:6–11.54 Both
describe Jesus in human and divine terms (Heb 1:4; Phil 2:6). They
depict his progression from some sort of pre-existence55 to a human
experience that entails self-humbling, faithfulness/obedience (Phil
2:7–8; Heb 3:2–6; 5:8; 12:2), and suffering to the point of death
(Phil 2:8; Heb 2:9–18). This culminates in his exaltation at God’s
right hand, where he will exercise authority over all beings (Phil 2:9;
Heb 1:4; 7:26).56
Furthermore, in both writers, Jesus’ journey serves as a pattern
for the community of believers to follow.57 In Philippians, Paul pref-
aces his statements about Jesus in ch. 2 by stating that this is the
53
On what this depiction says about Paul’s self-understanding, see N. T. Wright,
“The Letter to the Romans,” NIB, 10:754.
54
For narrative treatments of Phil 2:5–11, see Gorman, Cruciformity; Stephen E.
Fowl, The Story of Christ in the Ethics of Paul ( JSNTSup 36; Sheffield: JSOT Press,
1990), 49–101; idem, “Christology and Ethics in Philippians 2:5–11,” in Where
Christology Began: Essays on Philippians 2 (ed. Ralph P. Martin and Brian J. Dodd;
Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1998), 140–153.
55
This is a controversial point. In Hebrews, however, Jesus is God’s agent of
creation (Heb 1:10). Furthermore, Jesus is the same, “yesterday, today, and for-
ever” (Heb 13:8). In Phil 2, Jesus was in the form of God but did not exploit that
status. Rather, he emptied himself, taking human form, becoming in human like-
ness. These phrases are riddled with translation difficulties. What, at minimum, can
be maintained, however, is that Jesus possessed some sort of existence before his
earthly existence. The same seems true of Hebrews. The precise nature of that
“pre-existence” is never spelled out by either writer.
56
Although resurrection is not mentioned in the Philippians passage, it is clearly
implied, and plays a central role throughout Paul’s writings. Resurrection receives
less attention, though by no means a diminished role, in Hebrews than in Paul.
Gorman (Cruciformity, 90–91) detects five “narrative patterns” within the Philippians
passage. Although this is more detail than can be included here, I merely note that
many of these patterns bear direct parallels with what we find in Hebrews. See
also the analysis of this issue in L. D. Hurst, The Epistle to the Hebrews: Its Background
of Thought (SNTSMS 65; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 118–119.
57
On this point in Paul, in addition to the works by Gorman and Fowl cited
above, see William S. Kurz, “Kenotic Imitation of Paul and Christ in Philippians
2 and 3,” in Discipleship in the New Testament (ed. Fernando F. Segovia; Philadelphia:
Fortress, 1985), 103–126.
262 james c. miller
mindset the Philippians are to embrace (Phil 2:5, toËto frone›te §n

Ím›n). He follows this exhortation and description of Jesus’ actions
and experience by offering Timothy (Phil 2:19–24), Epaphroditus
(Phil 2:25–30), and himself (Phil 3:4–17) as examples of those who
embody such a pattern of living (Phil 3:15–17). In particular, Paul
calls attention to the matters of faithfulness (Phil 2:22, 29–30; 3:12–14),
refusal to exploit advantages (Phil 3:4b–7), and concern for others
above oneself (Phil 2:20–21, 26, 31). In addition to Philippians, we
can observe the basic contours of this pattern in the story of Jesus
and those “in Christ” depicted briefly in Rom 6 and then devel-
oped in greater detail beginning in Rom 12.58
In Hebrews, the lengthy list of those who embodied great faith
begins in ch. 11 and reaches its pinnacle with the statements about
Jesus in Heb 12:1–3. This progression can be obscured both by mod-
ern chapter divisions that separate this passage from ch. 11 and by
the common addition of the word “our” before faith in Heb 12:2.
Jesus’ actions described in Heb 12:2 illustrate his faithfulness, not
the community’s.59 Thus Jesus stands as the climactic example of the
“great cloud of witnesses” (Heb 12:1), consideration of whom should
prevent the auditors from growing weary and losing heart (Heb 12:3).
Thus, in both writings, the depictions of Jesus’ journey are explic-
itly offered as models for the community’s own journey of faith.
What is notably different between Hebrews and Paul in this scheme
is the role of the Holy Spirit. Although the Holy Spirit occupies a
central role in Paul’s depiction of how cruciform existence becomes
lived out, Hebrews remains largely silent regarding the work of the
Spirit on behalf of believers. In Hebrews, the Spirit does help Jesus
offer himself unblemished to God (Heb 9:14). Furthermore, believ-
ers are given gifts by the Spirit (Heb 2:4) and they share in the
Holy Spirit (Heb 6:4). Yet in Hebrews the Holy Spirit never occu-
pies the same strategic role as in Paul.
Continuity/Discontinuity. Any discussion of continuity and disconti-
nuity between the old and new orders automatically pushes to the
fore controversies surrounding the issue of “salvation history.” Once
again, I do not pretend that I can solve these debates once and for
58
Note, for example, the first exhortation specified in Rom 12:3, “not to think
of yourself more highly than you ought to think.”
59
On this point, in addition to the commentaries, see Ben Witherington III,
“The Influence of Galatians on Hebrews,” NTS 37 (1991): 151.
all. I do, however, want to close with a few observations afforded

by a narrative approach to the issue.
Both Paul and Hebrews posit a sharp break between covenants.
It is perhaps more pronounced in Hebrews (Heb 7:18),60 but Paul
nevertheless relegates the Mosaic Law to the old age, an age now
passing away (1 Cor 2:6). Furthermore, as in Hebrews, though not
with the same emphasis, Paul speaks of the “new” covenant (Heb
8:7–13; 1 Cor 11:25; 2 Cor 3:6). Without question, then, in terms
of covenantal salvation history, discontinuity prevails.
Yet, at the same time, both writers envision distinct continuities
between old and new dispensations by placing the covenants within
a larger story. Although Paul spells this out more clearly, both writ-
ers trace the identity of God’s people and the promise that leads to
Jesus from Abraham (Heb 2:16; 6:13; Gal 3:7–29). Furthermore, and
more importantly, the covenants must be understood within the larger
story of God’s dealings with God’s creation and God’s people.
Additional changes lie just ahead when, in the idiom of Hebrews,
the earth will be “shaken” and God’s people receive an unshakeable
kingdom. Certainly there will be discontinuity between the present
and that future. Yet there will be continuity as well, for God’s word
will bring it about. Viewed from this perspective, a break occurs
with regard to the covenants and between major “acts” of the drama
of God and creation. Yet the covenants are part of a more com-
prehensive, ongoing work of the one God involving creation and
God’s people.61 What is needed, then, is a movement beyond a sim-
plistic “either/or” approach to this issue. From a narrative perspec-
tive, both Paul and Hebrews require a more nuanced “both/and”
description.62
60
Both writers speak of the Mosaic covenant’s annulment: Heb 7:18, éy°thsiw;
Gal 3:15, éyete›.
61
Thus, for example, when the experience of the wilderness generation (Heb
3:7–4:13) is used as a warning for the auditors of Hebrews, the difference between
these two groups is not one of a people under different covenants or between
Judaism and Christianity. Rather, “this is a contrast between generations in the on-
going history of the people of God” (Isaacs, Sacred Space, 80). Both generations have
had “the good news announced” (eÈaggel¤zv) to them (Heb 4:2, 6).
62
For attempts at a mediating position, at least for Paul, see Richard B. Hays,
“Three Dramatic Roles: The Law in Romans 3–4,” in Paul and the Mosaic Law (ed.
James D. G. Dunn; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 151–164; and Bruce W.
Longenecker, The Triumph of Abraham’s God (Nashville: Abingdon, 1998).
264 james c. miller
Conclusion
By design, this study has remained sweeping and general, intended

to illustrate an approach for comparing Hebrews and Paul rather
than offer a definitive treatment of the subject. Much work remains
to be done. Yet an exploration and comparison of the narrative
worlds of these two writers holds out the promise of obtaining new
insights through an unexplored means of analysis.63
James C. Miller, Ph.D.

Senior Lecturer
Nairobi Evangelical Graduate School of Theology
P. O. Box 24686, 00502 Karen, Nairobi, Kenya
[email protected]
63
For example, Salevao (Legitimation, 93) states that his study does not seek to
“provide new information, but to enable a new way of analyzing the data we already
have.”
CONSTRUCTIONS AND COLLUSIONS:
THE MAKING AND UNMAKING OF IDENTITY
IN QOHELETH AND HEBREWS
Jennifer L. Koosed and Robert P. Seesengood
Harold W. Attridge begins his commentary on Hebrews by noting,

“the Epistle . . . is the most elegant and sophisticated, and perhaps
the most enigmatic, text of first-century Christianity.”1 Choon Leong
Seow opens his commentary on Ecclesiastes by asserting, “no book
in the Bible . . . is the subject of more controversies.”2 In many ways,
Qoheleth and the Epistle to the Hebrews are similar.3 Of particu-
lar interest to us, both texts are anonymous documents occasionally
assigned to canonical figures, but only on the most ethereal data.
Both Hebrews and Qoheleth provide autobiographical anecdotes that
certainly could suggest authorship by Solomon or Paul, but both
stop short of any certain origins.4 There are striking parallels between
1
Harold Attridge, Hebrews (Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Westminster, 1989), 1.
2
Choon Leong Seow, Ecclesiastes (AB 18C; New York: Doubleday, 1997), ix.
3
Structurally, both appear to have a homiletic tone and form, but they bend
that form in unexpected ways: Hebrews, in its final chapters, suddenly morphs into
an epistle and Qoheleth blends autobiographical exhortation with mashal. The rhetor-
ical flourish and complexity of Hebrews is legendary; the language of Qoheleth is
equally poignant and learned. Hebrews could be understood as an early polemic
in a line of discussion that would eventually lead to the extraction of nascent
Christianity from the broader Jewish discourse and theology of the first two cen-
turies of our common era (Daniel Boyarin, Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making
of Christianity and Judaism [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999]); arguably,
Hebrews is actively “remaking” an understanding of covenant, liturgy, and soteriology
out of elements of Jewish ritual and text. Hebrews presents a rhetoric that is not
yet “Christian” but is a very early move toward construction of a distinct “Christian”
identity. Both documents use an authorial voice that assumes—demands, actually—
agreement while both documents are offering fairly iconoclastic readings of Torah.
4
Qoh 1:1: “The words of the teacher, son of David, King of Jerusalem”; Heb
13:23: “I want you to know our brother Timothy has been released.” Neither text
even mentions the names of their reputed authors, only significant associates. In
Hebrews, a singular “I” peeps out in 13:20–21 (mated, as well, with a simple me
in Heb 11:32) revealing the face of an author still frustratingly obscured. Only
Timothy is named in Heb 13:23. While Qoheleth uses the autobiographical voice
with abandon, the author provides notably few identifiable particulars (or biographical
errors that would reveal the presence of an impostor). Only David is named as an
266 jennifer l. koosed and robert p. seesengood
the rabbinic and patristic scholarship on Qoheleth and Hebrews,

respectively.5 Both books present theological problems and both have
spurious traditions of multilingual variations. In both writings, the
imputed authorship may be what “saved” these texts; at the very
least, authorial attribution played a major role in arguments for their
retention and perpetuation.
What potential is there for a “new method” of reading to illu-
mine some of the dark corners remaining in these enigmatic and
controversial texts? Historically-oriented critical approaches have cer-
tainly yielded valuable insights and impressive data. Yet the very
abundance of data as well as its irreconcilable variety increasingly
frustrates certainty regarding the identity of the authors of Hebrews
and Qoheleth. In other words, the search for the origin has not led
us to a single, sharper vision, but instead has multiplied potential
authors and contexts, thereby further cluttering an already cloudy
view. Readings that sever the restraints of historiography certainly
alleviate some of the enigma and controversy, but an approach that
disregards specific historical contexts and interpretive communities is
not without shortcomings of its own. While a reader-oriented approach
to Hebrews and Qoheleth would provide (and has provided) some
surprising and engaging readings, can there be a way to incorpo-
rate the valued controls and stimulating boundaries created by his-
torical inquiry with a sophisticated notion of texts, readers, and
composition?6 In the spirit of “new methods,” we would apply not
just a different approach to the question of authorship of Qoheleth
and Hebrews, but rather an admittedly eclectic combination of
approaches. Our reading will draw from insights provided by reader-
response criticism, reception history, intertextuality and cultural crit-
icism.7 And our emphasis will be not on how reading and interpretation
ancestor of the writer. Both texts exhibit changing genres and voices that may indi-
cate much is going on “off stage” that is only alluded to in the final text.
5
On Qoheleth, see m. Yad. 3:5; m. 'Ed. 5:3; b. Meg. 71; b. ”abb. 30b; Lev. Rab.
28:1; Qoh. Rab. 1:3; 11:9; and Num. Rab. 161b. On Hebrews, see Eusebius, Hist.
eccl. 2.17.12–13; 3.3.1–7; 3.38.2–3; 5.26.1; 6.14.4; 6.20.3; and 6.25.11–14.
6
On reader-response biblical criticism—in both its positive and its negative man-
ifestations—see Edgar V. McKnight, “Reader Response Criticism,” in To Each its
Own Meaning: An Introduction to Biblical Criticism and their Applications (ed. Steven L.
McKenzie and Stephen R. Haynes; rev. ed.; Louisville: Westminster John Knox,
1999), 230–252; and The Bible and Culture Collective, The Postmodern Bible (New
Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 20–69.
7
For introductions to intertextuality and cultural criticism, see Timothy K. Beal,
constructions and collusions 267
are moments of interaction between reader and author, but rather

on how the text itself is an invested and integral party to interpre-
tation. Far from it being a methodological experiment, we argue that
such eclecticism highlights some significant aspects of how Hebrews
and Qoheleth function, and, indeed, is inspired by the nature of
these texts themselves.
We approach both Qoheleth and Hebrews as intertextual—not
precisely in themselves, but we pursue an intertextual engagement
with the reception and history of inquiry of these texts. By placing
these texts and their interpretations in conversation with one another,
we, as critics, are also entering into conversation, becoming ourselves
sites of intertextuality—both as collaborating authors with different
backgrounds and specializations and as authors engaging a reading
community knit only by common interest in a single text. In noting
the areas of both congruence and difference, we better recognize
and understand the presence of consistent, cooperating issues in the
interpretation of Qoheleth and Hebrews that reflect something basic
about the nature of reading and texts. And we find one more use
of our eclectic combination of methods: through them, we are able
to collapse the binary divisions often installed between writer and
critic, provenance and history of scholarship, text and intertext. In
pursuing these inquiries together, as both colleagues and friends, we
also cross the borderline sometimes erected between scholars/schol-
arship on the Hebrew Bible and on the New Testament. Reading
in these multiple, intertextual relationships allows us to pursue a type
of “ethical criticism,” not in terms of simply judging a text or inter-
pretation as right or wrong, but, in the words of Wayne C. Booth,
as “fluid conversation about the qualities of the company we keep—
and the company that we ourselves provide.”8
Modern and postmodern scholarship, using (or resisting) histori-
cal and grammatical analysis, creates serious questions about the
“Intertextuality,” and Kenneth Surin, “Culture/cultural criticism,” both in Handbook

of Postmodern Biblical Interpretation (ed. Andrew K. M. Adam; St. Louis, Miss.: Chalice,
2000), 128–130, 49–54.
8
Wayne C. Booth, The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1988), x. For an analysis of Booth’s work in biblical studies and
its relationship to reader-response criticism, see The Postmodern Bible, 32–33. See also
Adele Reinhartz, Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A Jewish Reading of the Gospel of John
(New York: Continuum, 2001) for a book-length engagement of Booth’s metaphor
of the book as friend and an application of his theories of ethical criticism.
authorship imputed to Qoheleth and Hebrews by earlier, pre-modern

scholarship. Despite different origins, strategies, and goals, Jewish and
Christian scholarship of both texts has followed similar lines of devel-
opment and addressed similar concerns. Observing this process offers
an opportunity for some reflections on the making and unmaking of
scholarly tradition and technique. Can we, as scholars, suspend—or
even identify—the cultural, theological, and epistemological influences
impinging upon our reading? Are these assumptions imposed upon
or invented by the texts we read? Finally, do our “impositions” actu-
ally control these texts, or are they precisely what give these texts
lasting interest? Drawing upon (deliberately?) cryptic textual refer-
ences and extra-textual traditions, scholars collude with the texts of
Qoheleth and Hebrews in the construction of authority, a construc-
tion that both constricts and directs generations of later interpreters
and that ensures the continuing presence of a reading community.
Solomon and Qoheleth
A variety of issues in the reading of Qoheleth concerned the rabbis

of the Talmud and midrash: contradictions,9 whether or not the book
“defiles the hands,”10 and the danger of inclining a reader toward
heresy.11 What worried the rabbis has continued to worry the mod-
ern scholars: contradictions, canonization, and a seemingly unortho-
dox theology.12 Like the rabbis of the Talmud, modern commentators
9
“R. Judah b. R. Samuel b. Shilath said in Rav’s name: The sages sought to
withdraw . . . the book of Qoheleth because its words are mutually contradictory. . . .
Why then did they not withdraw it? Because it begins with words of Torah and it
ends with words of Torah” (b. ”abb. 30b) as quoted in Michael V. Fox, A Time to
Tear Down and a Time to Build Up: A Rereading of Ecclesiastes (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1999), 1.
10
“All books in the Bible defile the hands. Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes defile
the hands. Rabbi Yehuda states that Song of Songs defiles the hands and Ecclesiastes
is in dispute. Rabbi Yossi states that Ecclesiastes does not defile the hands and Song
of Songs is in dispute” (m. Yad. 3:5) as quoted in Michael J. Broyde, “Defilement
of the Hands, Canonization of the Bible, and the Special Status of Esther, Ecclesiastes,
and Song of Songs,” Judaism 44/1 (1995): 67.
11
In Qoh. Rab. (on verse 1:3) the verses 1:3 and 11:9 are cited as dangerous sites
of potential misinterpretation—a misinterpretation that may lead the reader into
heresy.
12
Even the briefest perusal of modern commentaries reveals that all of these
“problems” are always highlighted in the introductory chapters. See, for example:
R. B. Y. Scott, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes (AB 18; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1965);
construct theories of authorship in order to explain (away) the parts

of the text that trouble them.
By the rabbinic period, Qoheleth had already been attributed to
Solomon,13 but Solomonic authorship was not enough to guarantee
inclusion or retention in the canon. Solomon himself needed to be
rehabilitated. The relevant Talmudic discussions are concerned with
whether or not Qoheleth defiles the hands. To “defile the hands” is
to be sacred scripture; the Talmudic debates indicate one of two
things: either the question of canon was still open; or the canon had
been set already and the discussion was over the level of divine inspi-
ration. If the latter, the matter is one of ritual purity having to do
with the absence of the Tetragrammaton.14 No matter the exact
meaning of the phrase, the judgments about Solomon’s character
and status are instructive. For example, in one debate, Rabbi Yehoshua
finally intrudes with words from Rabbi Shimon ben Mennasiah:
“Ecclesiastes does not defile the hands since it is [only] the wisdom
of Solomon.”15 Solomon’s wisdom may be worth revering, but it is
not the same as divinely inspired text.
Seow, Ecclesiastes; James L. Crenshaw, Ecclesiastes: A Commentary (OTL; Philadelphia:

Westminster, 1987); Roland E. Murphy, Ecclesiastes (WBC 23A; Dallas: Word Books,
1992).
13
The Talmudic material is difficult to date with precision. The Mishnah was
compiled around 200 ce but reflects older traditions. Since Rabbis Hillel and
Shammai were involved in the Qoheleth debate, it appears as if Solomonic author-
ship was already established by the first century.
14
Broyde, “Defilement,” 66–67. The exact meaning of the debate over the defiling
of hands (inclusion in canon, or being subject to rules of ritual purity) is difficult
to determine because the phrase appears to be understood in both ways by the
rabbinic commentators. Our uncertainty reflects their ambiguity. Adding to our cur-
rent lack of clarity or consensus about when and how Qoheleth was canonized is
the nature of rabbinic material. Multiple arguments are raised in order to tease out
all the possible issues involved with an interpretation and its implications. Objections
do not necessarily reflect the actual opinions of the rabbis, but may be best under-
stood as a legal exercise. This is how Michael V. Fox understands the “defiling the
hands” debates: “These and similar stylized discussions are homiletic devices rais-
ing difficulties to be resolved by exegetical dexterity. They are not disputes about
canonicity, which was resolved much earlier” (A Time, 2). Broyde concludes that
what is really at issue is ritual status because these three books do not contain the
Tetragrammaton.
15
b. Meg. 7a as quoted in Broyde, “Defilement,” 67. The full passage reads:
“Rabbi Yehuda says in the name of Samuel: The Book of Esther does not defile
the hands. Is this to be understood to mean that Samuel rules that Esther was not
written with divine inspiration? But does not Samuel himself say that Esther was
written with divine inspiration; Rather [Samuel rules] that Esther was said to be
read and not to be written. Let us ask: Rabbi Meir states ‘Ecclesiastes does not
Although a minority opinion, ambivalence about Solomon’s char-

acter continues in later interpretations of Qoheleth. For example,
Rabbi David ibn Zimra (Radvaz), when asked why Qoheleth lacks
the Tetragrammaton, responded that Solomon’s heart was turned
away from God by his many wives.16 Solomon’s predilection for for-
eign women tainted his good name in the book of Kings and beyond.
Ambivalence about Solomon’s character may also explain the absence
of a Targum (Aramaic translation) or a midrash (rabbinical inter-
pretation) on Qoheleth (or on any other wisdom literature for that
matter) from the early period of rabbinical writings. Together, Solomon
and Qoheleth needed to be remade to reflect rabbinic values, which
in turn allowed for the proliferation of writings on Solomon and the
texts presumed to be authored by him. According to Paul V. M.
Flesher, the lateness of the Targum Qoheleth and Qoheleth Rabbah then
can be attributed to the vast differences between sages in the wis-
dom and rabbinic traditions. It is only when the rabbis redefined
Solomon-the-wisdom-sage as Solomon-the-Torah-sage that midrash
on wisdom begins. The Targum “freely rewrites Qoheleth” by “sub-
stituting Torah for Wisdom.”17
The Targum was redacted sometime between the seventh and twelfth
centuries, and it reflects the Talmudic majority position about the
theology and authorship of Qoheleth.18 The name “Solomon” is
inserted into commentary on Qoheleth, and the Targum argues force-
fully that Qoheleth/Solomon is inspired by the holy spirit and endowed
with the spirit of prophecy (Tg. Qoh. 1:1–2). The narrative of Solomon’s
life—taken from the book of Kings—is interwoven with the text of
Qoheleth, thereby remaking both. Solomon is characterized as a
defile the hands and there is a dispute as to whether Song of Songs defiles the
hands.’ Rabbi Yossi states Song of Songs defiles the hands and Ecclesiastes is in
dispute. Rabbi Shimon states: Ecclesiastes is one of the cases where Beit Shammai
is more liberal than Beit Hillel, but Ruth, Song of Songs and Esther certainly defile
the hands. This is in accordance with Rabbi Yehoshua who states: ‘As learned
Rabbi Shimon ben Mennasiah states: Ecclesiastes does not defile the hands since
it is the wisdom of Solomon.’” See also Fox, A Time, 1–2. Rabbi Shimon ben
Mennasiah’s opinion is recorded also in the t. Yad. 2:14 (Broyde, “Defilement,” 76,
n. 40 and Fox, A Time, 2, n. 6), and Abba Shaul notes it in "Abot R. Nat. (Fox, A
Time, 2, n. 6).
16
Radvaz, Response, 2:722, as quoted in Broyde, “Defilement,” 70.
17
Paul V. M. Flesher, “The Wisdom of the Sages: Rabbinic Rewriting of
Qoheleth,” in AAR/SBL Annual Meeting Abstracts (1990): 390.
18
Peter S. Knobel, “The Targum of Qohelet,” in The Targums of Job, Proverbs,
Qohelet (ed. Martin McNamara et al.; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical, 1991), 2.
penitent, exiled from his throne in Jerusalem, foreseeing the demise

of his kingdom under the reign of his son Rehoboam, and advo-
cating the Torah and the commandments as the only path to bless-
ings in this life and the next (Tg. Qoh. 1:12–18).
In the same way that Jewish interpretation was standardized by
the views expressed in the Targum, Jerome set the standard for all
subsequent Christian interpretation of Qoheleth until the Reformation.19
Solomonic authorship was already well established. Presumably draw-
ing on the traditions already present in first-century Judaism, Origen
is the first Christian commentator to identify Qoheleth with Solomon
and to group Song of Songs, Proverbs, and Qoheleth together.20 But
it is Jerome’s Vulgate and commentary on Ecclesiastes that directs
patristic and medieval Christian understandings. Solomon is remade
here as a kind of ante/i-Christ, representing the world before and
without Christ, thereby demonstrating the necessity of Christ. Passages
deemed difficult are spiritualized and read through Christological
lenses. For example, when Qoheleth/Solomon expresses pessimistic
weariness in Qoh 1:8—“the eye is not satisfied with seeing, or the
ear filled with hearing”—Jerome responds that “Christ is always
desiring and seeking our salvation.”21 When Qoheleth/Solomon con-
tends that there is nothing better “than to eat and drink” (Qoh 2:24),
Jerome inserts “the body and blood of the Eucharist.”22
The first scholar, Jewish or Christian, to suggest Solomon did not
write Qoheleth was Martin Luther. In Table Talk, he wrote, “Solomon
himself did not write the book of Ecclesiastes, but it was produced
by Sirach at the time of the Maccabees. . . . It is a sort of Talmud,
compiled from many books, probably from the library of King
Ptolemy Euergetes of Egypt.”23 Luther’s suggestion was not picked up
again for one hundred years, until the work of the Dutch philosopher
Hugo Grotius. Grotius dismissed the influence of divine inspiration
19
Svend Holm-Nielsen, “On the Interpretation of Qoheleth in Early Christianity,”
VT 24 (1974): 177.
20
Murphy, Ecclesiastes, xlix.
21
As quoted in Christian D. Ginsburg, Coheleth, commonly called the book of Ecclesiastes
(1861; repr. as part of The Song of Songs and Coheleth, 2 vols. in 1; New York: KTAV,
1970]), 102.
22
As quoted in Ginsburg, Coheleth, 102–103. See also Holm-Nielsen, “On the
Interpretation,” 176.
23
Martin Luther, Tischreden: [1531–1546] (6 vols. of D. Martin Luthers Werke: Kriti-
sche Gesamtausgabe; ed. E. Kroker et al.; Weimar: Hermann Böhlaus Nachfolger,
1912), 1:207 (no. 475). Translation from George Barton, Commentary on the Book of
Ecclesiastes (ICC; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1908), 21; see also Ginsburg, Coheleth, 113.
in the composition of the scriptures. Instead, he insisted on rigorous

philological investigation and interpretation as well as the “primary
sense” (historical) of the text.24 Grotius is best known for his use of
linguistic analysis to demolish arguments for Solomonic authorship.
In Annotationes in Vetus et Novum Testamentum (1644) he writes, “I believe
that the book is not the production of Solomon, but was written in
the name of this king, as being led by repentance to do it. For it
contains many words which cannot be found except in Ezra, Daniel,
and the Chaldee paraphrasts.”25
Once Grotius established linguistic reasons for questioning Solo-
monic authorship, others soon followed. First, there was only a trickle
of commentators who supported Grotius’ contention: Johann D.
Michaelis in Germany (1751) and Bishop Robert Lowth in England
(1753). In the second half of the eighteenth century, five major com-
mentaries were published denying Solomonic authorship. After this,
the trickle became a flood. In a review of nineteenth-century com-
mentaries on Ecclesiastes, George Barton counts thirty-eight commen-
taries that refute Solomonic authorship, and only one which clung
to it (and but one more which was non-committal). At the end of
the nineteenth century, Franz Delitzsch completed what Grotius
began; after a philological analysis, which set the standard for all
that follow, Delitzsch famously concluded: “If the Book of Koheleth
were of old Solomonic origin, then there is no history of the Hebrew
language.”26
Paul and Hebrews
In his commentary for the Anchor Bible, Craig R. Koester writes

an overview of our problem that mirrors many of the ideological
shifts—and even the rough sequence of those shifts—found in Qohe-
leth scholarship:27
There have been three major shifts in the study of Hebrews. First,
theological controversies in the fourth and fifth centuries concluded
24
Gerald Bray, Biblical Interpretation: Past and Present (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity,
1996), 237.
25
As quoted in Ginsburg, Coheleth, 146 and Barton, Commentary, 21.
26
Franz Delitzsch, Commentary on the Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes (trans. M. G.
Easton; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1877), 190.
27
Craig R. Koester, Hebrews (AB 36; New York: Doubleday, 2001), 19.
several centuries of uncertainty about the status of Hebrews and led

to the broad acceptance of Hebrews as canonical Scripture. Second,
disputes in the sixteenth century reopened questions concerning the
status of Hebrews. . . . Third, the late eighteenth century witnessed the
emergence of historical critical readings of Hebrews that led to ongo-
ing controversy about the book’s authorship, context of composi-
tion . . . and place in the history of Christianity.
Much as the belief in Solomonic authorship offered both context
and concern for the reading of Qoheleth, the view that Paul wrote
Hebrews both provided a gloss of authority and continuity and intro-
duced problems. Hebrews differs significantly in style and vocabu-
lary from Paul’s other writings. Further, while Hebrews’ supersessionist
impulses would agree with some readings of Paul (esp. of Gal 2–4
or Rom 9–10), there are concerns about anonymity which need
response; Paul, simply put, confidently signed his own polemic (Gal
6:11). Even the “title” awakens concern in anyone who would read
the text as a product of the “Apostle to the Gentiles.”
A cursory survey of ante-Nicene patristic writers reveals an unen-
thusiastic consensus on Pauline authorship of Hebrews along with a
determined decision to use the epistle as if it were Pauline.28 Origen
(ca. 185–ca. 254) noted Hebrews lacked Paul’s “rudeness of speech”
and familiar language, yet suggested the contents were certainly in
agreement with Pauline theology (Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.25.11–14).
Though Origen famously concludes that “God alone” knows Hebrews’
author, he nevertheless argues the text is fully “Pauline” and, in
quite a “post-modern” sympathetic notion of authorship, concludes
Paul is the author no matter who physically wrote the words.29
28
For much (if not most) of the following, I am particularly indebted to the first
volume of Ceslas Spicq, L’Épître aux Hébreux (2 vols.; Paris: Gabalda, 1952–1953).
According to Clement of Alexandria (at least as reported by Eusebius), Pantaenus
(died ca. 200 ce) asserted that Hebrews was written by Paul, but that Paul with-
held his name in deference to Jesus who had been sent to “his own,” the Jews
(Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 6.14.4). Clement concurred that Hebrews was Pauline but he
supposed Paul’s choice of anonymity arose more from rhetorical and persuasive
desires than deference to messianic piety; Paul left off his name so that the Jews
would not reject the letter, a priori, and ignore it (Hist. eccl. 6.14.2). Clement is
quite happy quoting Hebrews as if it were by Paul (Strom. 5.10.62; 6.7.62) but notes
there are some vocabulary and style differences between Hebrews and the other
letters of the Pauline corpus. Eusebius suggests Hebrews was originally composed
in Hebrew or Aramaic and then translated into Greek by Luke (Hist. eccl. 6.14.2).
29
Origen cites and comments on the letter with direct attribution of the writing
to Paul (Comm. Jo. 1.20; Princ. 1.5.1, etc.). Eusebius notes that there has been some
dissension on the question of Pauline authorship (particularly dividing East and
In near diametric contrast to rabbinic scholarship on Qoheleth,

confidence in Pauline authorship within patristic debate arises from
theological motivations and assessments. The summary of debate
found in Ephraem (ca. 306–373) carefully notes Hebrews’ unique
style, and Ephraem may be the first biblical scholar to notice or
address biographical correlations in his recognition of Timothy in
Heb 13:23,30 yet the primary patristic debate over canonization and
“Paulinisation” of Hebrews (and Ephraem’s own conclusions) pivoted
around theology and patristic constructs of Paul as Christian philoso-
pher par excellence and supersessionist Apostle to the Gentiles. Even
more, Ephraem (and others) suggests that those who deny Pauline
origins most aggressively are motivated by Hebrews’ limitations upon
grace and post-baptismal reconciliation.31 Epiphanius (ca. 315–403)
is clear that Marcion and the Arians rejected Pauline composition
because Hebrews failed to agree with their own theological agendas.
By the time of Jerome, the patristic consensus was that only heretics
seriously questioned Pauline authorship ( Jerome, Epist. 58; Augustine,
Haer. 89; Ep. ad Rom. inchoata 11.3–4 [PL 35.2095]; Doctr. chr. 2.8.12–13;
cf. Civ. 10.5, which admits some openness on the question). Debates
over Hebrews’ author invoked assertions of theological affinity to
Paul, and this affinity overrode glaring stylistic differences. Those
who rejected the theology of Hebrews also questioned its Pauline
origins.32
West and often based upon issues of style and lexicography) but that it is “obvi-
ous and plain” that the content and themes of Hebrews so closely agree with Paul’s
that no other author could be imaginable (Hist. eccl. 3.3.5). Still, however, he allows
for some ambivalences of his own (Hist. eccl. 2.17.12). Other (roughly) fourth-century
writers Methodius of Olympus and Theodore of Mopsuestia both quote Hebrews
openly as Pauline (Symp. 5.7, which quotes Heb 10:1; Comm. Heb. PG 66.952). These
views certainly agree with most of the manuscript evidence, which includes Hebrews
along with the other thirteen Pauline epistles (though often in different locations).
Consider, for example, only the extensive evidence marshaled by Spicq, L’Épître,
and Paul Ellingworth, The Epistle to the Hebrews (NIGTC; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,
1993), 8–21. To complete the Ante-Nicene treatment, we should note that Tertullian
may suggest Barnabas as the author, unless he is merely misattributing his quota-
tion in Pud. 20.
30
Ephraem too suggests that Hebrews was originally composed in Hebrew or
Aramaic, yet he thinks it was translated by Clement of Rome.
31
We need not expound, of course, how attaching Hebrews to the Apostle of
Grace and the explicator of salvation by faith through grace both softens Hebrews’
hardness and adds an edge to any overly liberal readings of Romans, Ephesians or
Galatians.
32
Apart from a possibly mistaken ascription to Barnabas, Paul’s only named com-
petitors for authorship are Clement of Rome and Luke. Yet both Clement and
According to the tremendous survey of Ceslas Spicq, Christian

opinion that Paul wrote Hebrews remained constant through the
medieval period.33 In the post-Grotius, post-Renaissance bloom of
critical biblical interpretation, however, there has been a dramatic
propagation of hypotheses on the authorship of Hebrews. Not satis-
fied with pruning Solomon from Ecclesiastes, Luther also grafted in
Apollos for Hebrews, a choice popular through the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries.34 As we have seen in Qoheleth scholarship,
scholarship on Hebrews after the age of Grotius has found linguis-
tic and stylistic variations too acute to be ignored. Most commen-
tators on Hebrews from the last 25 years assert the data are too
vague and the style too idiosyncratic for any authorship to be sug-
gested with confidence.
When the canon of the New Testament was being formed, bib-
lical scholarship, while well aware of stylistic concerns, suggested the
theology of Hebrews could not be dissociated from Paul and asserted
Pauline “authorship.” Most of these scholars also argued that theo-
logical coherence and apostolicity were essential canonical qualifications.
In later critical eras, when canonical debate was much less pressing,
stylistic concerns became more central and certainty of Pauline author-
ship diminished proportionately. It may be obvious to note, but the
theological needs and critical emphases of each generation of schol-
arship have in key ways affected the position of scholars toward
authorship of Hebrews. Roughly the same may be seen behind
scholarship on the Solomonic authorship of Qoheleth. Is it any sur-
prise that, in our current high-modernist/postmodern moment, schol-
ars express complete agnosticism and assert the irreducible complexity
of the data?
The biases of scholarship which we have described are not superfi-
cial, unimportant, or antique. Precisely on the fulcrum of the nineteenth
Luke are also named by Eusebius (Hist. eccl. 6.25.14; 3.38.2) as possible translators
of an originally Pauline Epistle to the Hebrews. Even when they are named as par-
ties responsible for our final form of Hebrews, there is a decided preference to view
both of these as translators and not originators. Further, neither Clement nor Luke
could be said to be anything but wholly integrated into Pauline theology.
33
However, when there was discrepant opinion, it normally was a suggestion of
Lukan authorship or translation. Spicq, L’Épître, 1:197–219.
34
Philip the Deacon was advocated by Ramsay and many British scholars of the
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Modern critics have suggested Peter (due
to literary congruence between 2 Peter and Hebrews), Jude (again, based on liter-
ary coherence), and Epaphras.
and twentieth centuries, Adolf von Harnack argued Hebrews was

written by Priscilla in collaboration with her husband Aquila.35
Summarizing von Harnack, Mary Rose D’Angelo writes:36
Suggesting that Hebrews was written to a house-church in Rome after
the death of Paul, [von Harnack] concluded that the writer was a
member of that house-church and was closely associated with Timothy.
Harnack also deduced that the author had to be closely enough asso-
ciated with another member of the group to be able to speak as “I”
or “we” interchangeably. This writer was learned and a teacher but
was apologetic about using this authority to exhort others. Assuming
that the name of such an author had to be found in the Acts or the
Pauline corpus, Harnack concluded that this description best suits
Prisca. . . . In Harnack’s view the best explanation for the loss of the
author’s name was that the author was a woman. There is evidence
that women’s names were suppressed in the text of the New Testament,
and Prisca herself was significantly demoted in some manuscripts of
Acts.
Certainly, the case for Priscillian authorship is not definitive; in many
ways it may not be much more than the articulation of a curious
possibility—a possibility which is faced with the rather large obsta-
cle of the masculine participle in Heb 11:32.37 Hardly any but fem-
inist scholars continue to advocate Priscillian authorship.38 Yet is
35
Adolf von Harnack, “Probabilia über die Adresse und den Verfasser des
Hebräerbriefs.” ZNW 1 (1900): 16–41. On Priscilla, see Acts 18:2–4, 18, 26; 2 Tim
4:19; Rom 16:3–5; 1 Cor 16:19.
36
Mary Rose D’Angelo, “Hebrews,” in The Women’s Bible Commentary (ed. Carol
A. Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe; Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1998), 456.
37
We would grant that the masculine participle in Heb 11:32 is in agreement
with the first-person pronoun. The obvious reason for this construction would be
that the author was male. Of course, we are thus far unaware of a feminine par-
ticiple extant in the (rather common) expression being employed in this verse
(§pile¤cei me går dihgoÊmenon ı xrÒnow). It does not seem impossible that we have
an unconscious use of an idiomatic construction. It is also possible (though, granted,
highly unlikely) that Heb 11:32 is intended to conceal the feminine origins of
Hebrews or that (more possibly, but lacking supporting evidence) there has been
some scribal emendation.
These not insubstantial caveats aside, we would add our own experience as
differently gendered co-authors. Sentences in collaborative documents—even when
written by educated and published authors—slide ambivalently from first-person sin-
gular to first-person plural. Sentences written collaboratively take on at times a
unique, trans-gendered or “cross-gendered” life of their own. While we grant the
problems of Heb 11:32, we do not concur with C. C. Torrey (“The Authorship
and Character of the so-called ‘Epistle to the Hebrews,’” JBL 30 [1911]: 137–56)
that they are fatal.
38
Note, most certainly, Ruth Hoppin, Priscilla, Author of the Epistle to the Hebrews,
and Other Essays (New York: Exposition, 1969). See, additionally, the thesis of
there any better evidence to support Apollos over Priscilla and Aquila?
To whom we ascribe authorship, and why, are very culturally
laden issues and are enmeshed with theological and cultural assump-
tions. Returning to Koester, he is certainly correct when he argues,
“Biblical interpretation is the art of asking questions of texts. The
way questions are posed reflects the assumptions and concerns of
the interpreter and shapes the answers that are given.”39
Constructions and Collusions
Not content to observe that the assumptions we bring as scholars

are culturally and theologically driven, we are particularly intrigued
by Koester’s insight that the same factors affect both our answers
and the very “art of asking questions.” This is not a new observa-
tion for Biblical scholarship. What we find intriguing, however, is
the extent and ways these texts themselves—both Hebrews and
Qoheleth—strategically adopt both specificity and ambivalence in
order to present themselves as fluid and malleable documents.40
To perpetuate themselves, texts must be read; to be read over
generations, they must be specific enough to control readers but
generic enough to be adapted to multiple reading communities. In
his fascinating (and not completely tongue-out-of-cheek) essay, “The
Selfish Text: The Bible and Memetics,” Hugh S. Pyper uses insights
from evolutionary biology to describe the composition, preservation,
and critical engagement of texts. He writes:41
Richard Dawkins’ . . . book The Selfish Gene (1976 and 1989) . . . has pop-
ularized the admittedly controversial idea that human beings, indeed
all living organisms, can be construed as the ‘survival vehicles’ for their
genetic material. This claim is a variant on Samuel Butler’s well-known
J. Massyngberde Ford that Hebrews was written by Mary (given the resonances
with the apocryphal Gospel of Mary): J. Massyngberde Ford, “The Mother of Jesus
and the Authorship of the Epistle to the Hebrews,” TBT 82 (1975): 683–94.
39
Koester, Hebrews, 19.
40
On “specific ambiguity” and its function in texts, see Robert P. Seesengood,
“Postcards from the (Canon’s) Edge: The Pastoral Epistles and Derrida’s The Post
Card,” in Derrida’s Bible (ed. Yvonne Sherwood; New York: Palgrave, 2004), 49–59.
41
Hugh S. Pyper, “The Selfish Text: The Bible and Memetics,” in Biblical
Studies/Cultural Studies (ed. J. Cheryl Exum and Stephen D. Moore; JSOTSup 266;
Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 70–71. Elsewhere, Pyper (quoting Dennett)
argues that “a scholar is just a library’s way of making more libraries”; see “The
Triumph of the Lamb: Psalm 23 and Textual Fitness,” BibInt 9 (2001): 385–392.
description of a hen as ‘an egg’s way of making another egg.’ An

organism is a gene’s way of making another gene. . . . It is the follow-
ing further adaptation of this slogan that forms the proposition that this
paper will discuss: Western Culture is the Bible’s way of making more Bibles.
Taking cues from evolutionary theories ourselves, could it be that
ambivalent theology, lexical uniqueness, erratic first-person pronouns,
references to other “canonical” worthies by name, and anonymity
are the means for Qoheleth and Hebrews to ensure reception and
retention? As critical readers, might we have been colluding with
these texts in ways that perpetuate and reflect not only cultural and
theological assumptions but also in ways that each text invites and
performs in order to ensure survival? If this were the case, then the
resolution of these questions would be the very end of the texts’
adaptations and, thus, the beginning of their marginalization. As
Qoheleth seductively warns, “Of making many books there is no
end” (Qoh 12:12). We may be certain that subsequent generations
will puzzle over our current state of the question, even as we smile
at the quaint certainty of earlier scholars.
Qoheleth, through its superfluous use of “I” and repeated com-
mand to “see,” and Hebrews, with its manipulative shifts to cohor-
tative subjunctive, force the reader into submissive positions. All texts
read us as we read them, but Qoheleth and Hebrews in particular
are invested in the reading process; they, themselves, “read” their
own traditions in ways that both defer to and subdue those tradi-
tions. Notice, for example, the way Hebrews depends upon Torah
for its Christology and authority, yet the very Christology and theo-
logy it describes renders Torah superfluous, perhaps even hostile, to
the full revelation of God. For Hebrews, reconciliation with God
requires a sacrifice—the sacrifice of Jewish texts and the Levitical
system. Hebrews cites Torah as authority for a theology that renders
Torah irrelevant; Hebrews erases what it depends upon.42 Qoheleth
undermines the very values of wisdom literature even as it partici-
pates in the features of the genre. In Wisdom traditions, the created
universe is liturgy, and wisdom is the awareness of its worship. But
in Qoheleth, the universe comes to an end as the sun and the moon
42
Jennifer L. Koosed, “Double Bind: Sacrifice in the Epistle to the Hebrews,”
in A Shadow of Glory: Reading the New Testament After the Holocaust (ed. Tod Linafelt;
New York: Routledge, 2002), 89–101.
and the stars blink out (Qoh 12:2).43 The wise are not rewarded and
the fools are not punished; all go to the grave together—the right-
eous and the wicked, the good and the evil, the clean and the
unclean, those who sacrifice and those who do not sacrifice (Qoh
9:2). Subsequent rabbinical readers not only had to tame the pes-
simism of the book, but also had to remake Solomon so that this
Wisdom hero became a Torah hero.44 All references to the natural
world in Qoheleth became references to that which preceded and
even created the natural world for the rabbis: Torah.45
Unlike Solomon, Paul as author of Hebrews is not rehabilitated;
Paul provides a space for a supersessionist notion of early Christology
that is protected from Marcionite Christology. Paul rehabilitates
Hebrews. Were not Paul author of this text, Hebrews could quite
easily accommodate itself to “heretical” Christologies and thus find
itself excluded. Were not Paul, the apostle of grace, associated with
the text, Hebrews could easily become legalistic, offering no for-
giveness for the sins of the baptized. If Qoheleth canonizes Solomon,
Paul sanctifies Hebrews and renders its supersessionist theology nor-
mative or “orthodox.” How the critic reads the text shapes the con-
struction of the author. How the author is imagined informs the
reading of the text. And the interplay of both forms the identity of
the critic.
Nearly all modern commentaries begin with questions of author,
and almost all modern commentaries on Qoheleth and Hebrews
43
For the apocalyptic reading of Qoh 12 see Yvonne Sherwood, “‘Not with a
bang but a whimper’: Shrunken Eschatologies of the Twentieth Century—and the
Bible,” in Apocalyptic in History and Tradition (ed. Christopher Rowland and John
Barton; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 94–116; and Timothy K. Beal,
“C(ha)osmopolis: Qohelet’s Last Words,” in God in the Fray: A Tribute to Walter
Brueggemann (ed. Tod Linafelt and Timothy K. Beal; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998),
290–304.
44
Solomon asks for wisdom rather than riches or power in 1 Kgs 3:5–13. He
demonstrates this wisdom through judging in the courts between the righteous and
the wicked (1 Kgs 3:16–28), and also through his discourses on the natural world
(1 Kgs 4:33–34). In this way, Solomon becomes associated with Wisdom Literature
(Proverbs, especially, which is conflated with 1 Kgs 4:32), which focuses on the cre-
ated world rather than the Torah or Temple systems of drawing near to God.
45
Genesis Rabbah begins with God looking into the Torah (as blueprint and build-
ing block) and creating the world (1:1). In Qoheleth Rabbah, whenever Qoheleth
laments that there is nothing new under the sun, the rabbis read that there is noth-
ing new before the sun, i.e., the Torah is before the created world and contains
everything within it. Thus a pessimistic sentiment that uses and undermines wis-
dom categories becomes a positive statement about the enduring relevance of Torah.
leave these questions unresolved. Despite the worthy notion that we,
as readers, create meanings in texts, authorship matters. Speaking
personally, it changes our resistance to the supersessionist views of
Hebrews if we imagine the text as the first female voice in Christianity;
we can’t help feeling more sympathetic, more apologetic. In our own
relationship as collaborators, we find comfort and continuity in imag-
ining Priscilla and Aquila exchanging drafts via email. If Qoheleth
is a female voice (and there is no real reason to assume that it isn’t)
then it changes the tenor of the misogynist views expressed.
In our contemporary moment, scholars are comfortable with anony-
mous texts; they (we) may even prefer them. In Hebrews, the move-
ment away from Paul and toward authorial agnosticism could of
course be influenced by postmodern critiques of structures and authors.
But could it also be a post-World War II response by Christian
scholars to the triumphalism of Hebrews? Cutting Hebrews from
authorial moorings creates an anonymous text of unknown prove-
nance, easily left adrift in antiquity and academically related to
Jewish/Christian discourse at best, while Paul, no longer needed to
add legitimacy to Hebrews, can be salvaged for other purposes.
Committed agnosticism on the author’s identity faithfully mirrors the
rhetoric of Qoheleth and Hebrews themselves. In the erasure of the
author and tradition—ours and theirs—there is the erasure of authority.
Have we, in the case of these two texts, been once more co-opted
and led even as we appear to be interjecting our own assumptions?
Are we mastering these texts, finally relinquishing control and admit-
ting the limits of our skill? Or are we only doing, once again, exactly
what they want us to do, so as to ensure that they will be read by
yet another generation?
Jennifer L. Koosed, Ph.D.

Assistant Professor of Religious Studies
Albright College
13th and Bern St., P.O. Box 15234, Reading, Pa. 19612–5234,
U.S.A.
[email protected]
Robert P. Seesengood, Ph.D.

Adjunct Assistant Professor of Classics and Religious Studies
Drew University, Theological School
36 Madison Ave., Madison, N.J. 07940, U.S.A.
[email protected]
INDICES
INDEX OF MODERN AUTHORS
An “n” after a page number indicates that the reference appears only in the footnotes.
Adam, Andrew K. M. 267n Berger, Peter L. 169n, 170n, 174,

Adams, Edward 255n 175, 246n
Aitken, Ellen Bradshaw viii, 1, 2, 5, Bergman, Jan 43
131, 142n, 148 Betz, Hans Dieter viii, 151n, 199,
Aland, Barbara 202n 201
Aland, Kurt 202n, 219n, 223n Black, C. Clifton 133n
Albrecht, Michael von 173n Bleicken, Jochen 165n, 166n
Alexander, Patrick H. 8 Blum, Erhard 25n
Alexander, T. Desmond 79n Bockmuehl, Markus 157n
Alföldy, Géza 141n Bodendorfer, Gerhard 90n
Anderson, Gary A. 43n, 45n Booth, Wayne C. 267
Andriessen, Paul 142n Bornkamm, Günther 142n, 239
Arowele, P. J. 180n, 198n Boyarin, Daniel 265n
Attridge, Harold W. viii, 1, 18n, 19, Bradley, Keith R. 162n
21n, 22n, 23n, 38n, 55n, 58n, 61n, Braude, William G. 119n
62n, 64n, 69n, 71n, 73n, 74n, 81n, Braun, Herbert 100n, 173n, 192n
82n, 99n, 100n, 105n, 118, 133n, Bray, Gerald 272n
134, 135n, 143n, 144n, 145n, 149n, Brecht, Bertolt 154, 169
151n, 157n, 158n, 166n, 169n, 185, Bremen, Katharina von 102n
186n, 187, 190n, 191n, 193, 195n, Brett, M. G. 179n
197n, 200n, 204, 215n, 217n, 226, Breytenbach, Cilliers 33n
227n, 229n, 231n, 235, 239n, 245n, Brown, John 75n, 81n
250n, 254n, 260n, 265 Broyde, Michael J. 268n, 269n,
Aune, David E. 52n 270n
Avraham, Gileadi 66n Bruce, F. F. 71n, 134n, 135n, 192
Buchanan, George W. 69n, 103
Backhaus, Knut viii, 1, 2, 5, 118, Büchner, Karl 173n
149, 150n, 151n, 156n, 157n, 159n, Bultmann, Rudolf 151, 239
167n, 175 Burkert, Walter
Bailey, Cyril 194n 39, 45
Barabino, Giuseppina 205n Butler, Samuel 277
Barag, D. 137n
Barr, James 76n Cambier, Jean 133n
Barrett, C. K. 133n, 250n Carlston, Charles E. 174n
Barth, Markus 54n Charles-Picard, Gilbert 136n
Barton, George 271n, 272n Classen, Carl J. 199, 201, 202, 209
Barton, John 279n Claussen, Carsten 116n
Bassler, Jouette M. 255n Cohen, Shaye J. D. 233n
Bauer, Walter 202n Collins, John J. 48n
Beal, Timothy K. 266n, 279n Collins, Raymond F. 131n
Beard, Mary 194, 195, 196 Coogan, Michael D. 213n
Becker, Adam H. 233n Crenshaw, James L. 269n
Behm, Johannes 44, 58n, 66n, 69n, Crüsemann, Frank 25n
71n, 72n Cullmann, Oscar 101n
Berger, Klaus 61n Cumont, Franz 195n
284 index of modern authors
D’Angelo, Mary Rose 276 Feldmeier, Reinhard 179n, 181, 191n,

Dahl, Nils 219n, 223n 198n
Das, A. Andrew 245n Ferguson, John 195n
Daube, David 133n, 250n Filson, Floyd V. 150n, 193n
Davies, W. D. 133n, 250n Fischer, Karl Martin 151n
Dawkins, Richard 277 Fitzmyer, Joseph A. 53n, 97n
Deissmann, Adolf 54n Flesher, Paul V. M. 270
Delitzsch, Franz 272 Flower, Harriet I. 137n
Derrida, Jacques 13, 16 Flückiger-Guggenheim, Daniela 163n
deSilva, David A. 68, 132n, 133n, Ford, J. Massyngberde 277n
134n, 155n, 157n, 158n, 162n, Foucault, Michel 16, 181n
167n, 168n, 169n, 171n, 172n, Fowl, Stephen E. 261n
173n, 174n, 179n, 183, 200, 220n, Fox, Michael V. 268n, 269n, 270n
221n, 250n Fox, Robin L. 194n
Dibelius, Martin 91n, 142n Frankemölle, Hubert 102n, 155n
Dodd, Brian J. 261n Frankena, Rintje 65n
Dodd, C. H. 255n Freese, John H. 205, 207, 208
Dohmen, Christoph 114n Frerichs, Ernest S. 178n
Donfried, Karl P. 145n Frey, Jörg 35n
Donner, Herbert 76n Fuhrmann, Manfred 203n, 207n
Dörrie, Heinrich 205n Furnish, Victor Paul 260n
Douglas, Mary 68
Downing, F. Gerald 171n Gamble, Harry 216, 217, 219n, 221n,
Drexler, Josef 39n 223, 224n, 230
Dunn, James D. G. 53n, 263n Gelardini, Gabriella viii, 1, 2, 4, 9,
Dunnill, John 68, 70n, 71n, 78n, 107, 116n, 117n, 124
79n, 87n, 118, 251n Georgi, Dieter viii, 1, 6, 7, 131n,
Dunning, Benjamin viii, 1, 5, 6, 177, 239, 244
198 Gerlitz, Peter 39n
Gese, Hartmut 39, 40n, 45
Eberhart, Christian A. viii, 1, 2, 3, Ginsburg, Christian D. 271n, 272n
26n, 28n, 32n, 33n, 37, 38n, 39n, Girard, René 39, 45
45n, 47n, 48n, 58n, 64 Goehring, James E. 144n
Ego, Beate 29n Goldberg, Arnold 90, 93, 95, 103,
Ehlers, W. 139n 104n
Ehrman, Bart D. 183, 215n Goppelt, Leonhard 98n
Eisenbaum, Pamela M. viii, 1, 2, 6, Gordon, Robert P. 81n
7, 184, 185, 189, 213, 222n, 232n, Gorman, Michael J. 257n, 258n,
237, 245n 261n
Elbogen, Ismar 114n, 123n Grässer, Erich 19n, 25n, 100n, 134,
Ellingworth, Paul 69n, 71n, 73n, 74n, 135n, 151n, 157n, 161n, 163n,
84n, 274n 164n, 165n, 166n, 167n, 174n, 204,
Elliott, John H. 179n, 180n, 181n, 224n
198n Grieb, A. Katherine 255n, 258n
Elliott, Neil 131n Grogan, Geoffrey W. 162n
Ellis, E. Earle 91n, 92n, 98, 103n Grotius, Hugo 271, 272, 275
Epp, Eldon J. 215n, 218n, 219 Guelich, Robert A. 174n
Ernesti, Johann C. G. 203n Guthrie, George H. 150n
Esler, Philip F. 68n
Evang, Martin 157n Habermas, Jürgen 16
Exum, J. Cheryl 277n Hagner, Donald A. 91n, 92n, 103,
135n
Feld, Helmut 151n Hahn, Scott W. viii, 1, 2, 3, 65, 88
Feldman, Louis 141n Halliwell, Stephen 204
index of modern authors 285
Hanhart, Robert 76n Kilpatrick, George D. 71n, 73n

Hanson, Kenneth C. 108n Kittredge, Cynthia Briggs 134n, 213n
Harmon, Austin M. 163 Klauck, Hans-Josef 167n
Harnack, Adolf von 135n, 276 Kline, Meredith G. 65n, 79n
Hartenstein, Friedhelm 25n, 26n, Knight, Douglas A. 65n
29n, 30n, 35n Knobel, Peter S. 270n
Hatch, William H. P. 213n, 220n Koch, Klaus 27n
Haynes, Stephen R. 266n Koester, Craig R. 38n, 56n, 57n,
Hays, Richard B. 248, 255n, 256n, 58n, 61n, 62n, 70n, 74n, 78n, 170n,
263n 187n, 188, 196n, 200, 213n, 215,
Hegermann, Harald 164n 233n, 245n, 250n, 272, 277
Heidegger, Martin 158 Koester, Helmut 131n, 142n, 192,
Heinemann, Joseph 113n, 115n 193, 197, 239
Helyer, Larry R. 71n Koosed, Jennifer L. viii, 1, 6, 8, 265,
Hengel, Martin 15, 16 278n, 280
Herr, Moshe D. 90 Körting, Corinna 30n
Holmes, Michael W. 215n Kraay, Colin M. 137n
Holm-Nielsen, Svend 271n Kraus, Wolfgang 102n, 103n
Hoppin, Ruth 276n Kreuzer, Siegfried 167n
Horrell, David G. 68n, 246n Kroker, E. 271n
Horsley, Richard A. 131n Kümmel, Werner G. 37n
Hossfeld, Frank-Lothar 26n Kunzl, Ernst 139n
Huffmon, Herbert B. 65n Kurz, William S. 261n
Hugenberger, Gordon P. 76n, 77n, Kuss, Otto 133n, 172n
78, 79n, 81
Hughes, Graham 155n La Piana, George 145n
Hughes, John J. 72, 73, 74, 75n, 80n Lampe, Peter 135n, 145n
Hughes, Philip E. 193n Lane, William L. 37n, 61n, 67n, 72n,
Humphrey, Caroline 194n 73n, 75n, 80n, 200, 227n
Hurst, L. D. 261n Lang, Bernhard 43n
Laub, Franz 150n, 155n, 156n, 165n
Instinsky, Hans U. 138n Lausberg, Heinrich 203n, 206n
Isaacs, Marie E. 158n, 166n, 250n, Layton, Scott 91n
251n, 254n, 263n Lehne, Susanne 254n
Leon, Harry J. 145n
Jacobs, Louis 110n Leonard, William 97n, 217n
Janowski, Bernd 26n, 27n, 29n, 30n, Levine, Lee I. 108, 109, 110n, 111n,
34n, 35n 112, 113n
Jenni, Ernst 33n Lieu, Judith M. 233n, 236
Jennrich, W. A. 209n Lim, Timothy H. 99n
Jewett, Robert 37n, 38n, 56n, 61n Linafelt, Tod 278n, 279n
Johnson, Luke Timothy 245n, 247n Lindars, Barnabas 150n, 200, 216n,
Johnson, Richard W. 167n, 169n 232n
Johnsson, William G. 157n, 180n Lindemann, Andreas 219n
Linss, Wilhelm C. 209n
Kampling, Rainer 149n Loader, William 101
Karrer, Martin 14, 17, 103n, 200, Löhr, Hermut viii, 1, 5, 6, 157n,
209n 170n, 171n, 174n, 199, 206n, 210
Käsemann, Ernst 133n, 157n, 180, Long, Thomas G. 69n, 71n, 174n
187, 232n, 239 Longenecker, Bruce W. 245n, 246n,
Keesmaat, Sylvia C. 258n 255n, 260n, 263n
Kertelge, Karl 155n Lowth, Robert 272
Kessler, Rainer 26n Luckmann, Thomas 169n, 170n,
Keyes, Clinton W. 173 246n
Lull, David J. 255n Nicholson, Ernest W. 42n

Lundquist, John M. 66n Niebuhr, Karl-Wilhelm 103n
Luther, Martin 271, 275 Niederwimmer, Kurt 164n, 167n
Lüthi, Kurt 167n Nitschke, Horst 174n
MacRae, George W. 133n Oakman, Douglas E. 164n

Malina, Bruce J. 68, 160n, 163n, Oesch, Josef M. 111, 112n
171n Olbrechts-Tyteca, Lucie 199
Mann, Jacob 118, 120n Olbricht, Thomas 200
Manson, William 134n, 241, 242 Osten-Sacken, Peter von der 100n
Martin, Joseph 203n, 209n Ostmeyer, Karl-Heinrich 98n
Martin, Ralph P. 261n
Marx, Alfred 25n Papsthomas, Amphilochios 218n
Matera, Frank J. 158n, 245n Perdelwitz, Richard 150n
Mattingly, Harold 137n Perdue, Leo G. 169n
Maurer, Christian 174n Perelman, Chaïm 199
McCarthy, Dennis J. 65n Peristiany, John G. 172n
McCormick, Michael 137n Perrot, Charles 109n, 111, 112n,
McDonald, Lee M. 218n 114n, 118n
McKenzie, Steven L. 266n Peterson, David 174n
McKnight, Edgar V. 266n Pfanner, Michael 136n, 138n, 139n,
McNamara, Martin 270n 140n, 141n, 142n
Mead, George H. 166 Pfitzner, Victor C. 70n, 71n
Melanchthon, Philipp 199 Pilch, John J. 68, 163n
Mendenhall, George E. 65 Pitt-Rivers, Julian 172n
Mercado, Luis F. 92n Plevnik, Joseph 171n
Merk, Otto 157n Plümacher, Eckhard 179n
Mettinger, Tryggve N. D. 26n Pohlenz, Max 205
Metzger, Bruce M. 96 Popkes, Wiard 154n, 169n
Michaelis, Johann D. 272 Porter, Stanley E. 200n
Michel, Otto 91n, 92n, 140n, 213n, Price, Simon R. F. 137n, 145n
245n, 250n Prigent, Pierre 51n
Middendorp, Theophil 49n Pursiful, Darrell J. 75n
Middleton, J. Richard 247n Pyper, Hugh S. 277
Milgrom, Jacob 27n, 29n, 30n, 31n,
32n, 40, 41n, 43n, 49 Quell, Gottfried 69n
Millar, Fergus 137n
Millard, Matthias 90n Rahn, Helmut 206n, 207n
Miller, James C. viii, 1, 6, 7, 8, 245, Reinhartz, Adele 267n
259n, 260n, 264 Rendtorff, Rolf 27n, 31n, 47
Milligan, George 73n, 75n, 252n Richards, E. Randolph 221n
Mitchell, Alan C. 205, 206 Richardson, Lawrence 138n
Moffatt, James 192, 205n Richardson, Peter 145n
Montefiore, Hugh W. 135n Riess, Richard 55n
Moore, R. Laurence 177, 178, 197 Ringe, Sharon H. 276n
Moore, Stephen D. 277n Ringgren, Helmer 43n
Moulton, James H. 252n Rissi, Mathias 250n
Moxnes, Halvor 162n Robertson, O. Palmer 78n
Mulder, Martin J. 109n Rohrbaugh, Richard 68
Müller, Paul-Gerhard 144n Roldanus, J. 179n
Murphy, Roland E. 269n, 271n Rowland, Christopher 279n
Rudman, Dominic 27n
Neusner, Jacob 131n, 178n Ryberg, Inez Scott 140n, 142n, 143n
Newsom, Carol A. 276n Ryle, Herbert E. 97n
index of modern authors 287
Safrai, Shemuel 74n Stowers, Stanley K. 217n

Salevao, Iutisone 157n, 169n, 170n, Strange, James F. 131n
245n–246n, 247n, 264n Strobel, August 134n, 142n
Sanders, Jack T. 152n, 167n Surin, Kenneth 267n
Sanders, James A. 218n Swetnam, James 56n, 66n, 70n, 71n,
Sänger, Dieter 26n 72n, 73n
Schenck, Kenneth 141n, 246n Sysling, Harry 109n
Schenk, Wolfgang 152, 153
Schenke, Hans-Martin 151n Tadmor, Hayim 65n
Schlier, Heinrich 53n Taubenschlag, Rafal 74n
Schmidt, Thomas E. 158n Taut, Konrad 99n
Scholer, John M. 156n, 174n, 260n Teugels, Lieve 90n
Schottroff, Luise 151n Theissen, Gerd 192n
Schrage, Wolfgang 152n, 173n Theobald, Michael 97n, 167n
Schröger, Friedrich 91n, 92n, 98 Thomas, Nicholas 194n
Schröter, Jens 35n Thompson, James W. 167n, 171n
Schulten, Peter N. 137n Thurén, Jukka 150n, 151n
Schulz, Anselm 155n Thüsing, Wilhelm 62n, 157n, 171n
Schulz, Siegfried 152n Thyen, Hartwig 104n, 208n
Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth 134n, Tönges, Elke viii, 1, 2, 4, 89, 102n,
136n 105
Schwartz, Seth 234 Torrey, C. C. 276n
Schweizer, Eduard 239 Trepp, Leo 123n
Schwertner, Siegfried M. 8 Trobisch, David 219n, 223
Scott, James C. 133n Troeltsch, Ernst 15
Scott, R. B. Y. 268n Tucker, Gene M. 65n
Scroggs, Robin 248, 255n Turner, Victor 68
Scullard, Howard H. 195n
Seeberg, Alfred 187 Übelacker, Walter G. 200
Seesengood, Robert P. viii, 1, 6, 8,
265, 277n, 280 Vaage, Leif 222n
Segovia, Fernando F. 261n Vanhoye, Albert 66n, 71n, 84n,
Seow, Choon Leong 265, 269n 134n
Sherwood, Yvonne 277n, 279n Vermaseren, Maarten J. 194n
Shinan, Avigdor 113n, 114n Versnel, Hendrik S. 139n, 140n,
Siegert, Folker 199, 201, 207 141n
Smalley, Stephen S. 52n Vielhauer, Philipp 151n
Smallwood, E. Mary 137n, 145n Völker, Walther 174n
Smend, Rudolf 76n Völkl, Richard 152n, 159n, 173n
Smith, Jonathan Z. 178 Vos, Gerhardus 69n, 72n, 81n
Smith, Joseph 178
Söding, Thomas 155n, 157n Wacholder, Ben Zion 109n, 110n,
Somavilla, Ilse 149n 113n, 118n
Spengel, Leonard 203n, 204n, Wagner, J. Ross 247n, 255n
206n Walsh, Brian J. 247n
Spicq, Ceslas 66n, 273n, 274n, 275 Wansink, Craig A. 145n
Stegemann, Ekkehard W. viii, 1, Wedderburn, A. J. M. 151n
2, 9, 13, 23 Weinfeld, Moshe 76n, 81n
Stegemann, Wolfgang viii, 1, 2, 13, Weiss, Hans-Friedrich 105, 150n,
23, 55n 158n, 201n
Stemberger, Günter 34n, 98n, 103, Weiss, Konrad 38n
114n Welch, A. 220n
Stern, Manahem 74n Welker, Michael 34n
Stott, John R. W. 51n Westcott, Brooke F. 72n, 73n, 75n
Wick, Peter S. 91n Wright, N. T. 247n, 255n, 256n,

Wilhelm, Gernot 27n 261n
Willi-Plein, Ina viii, 2, 3, 25, 30n,
31n, 32n, 35 Yarden, Leon 138n
Wills, Lawrence 132n, 208n Yoshiko Reed, Annette 233n
Wimbush, Vincent 222n Young, Robert 16
Windisch, Hans 91n, 92n, 101n,
104n, 204n Zahn, Theodor 135n
Winston, David 174n Zchomelidse, Nino M. 30n
Witherington, Ben 88n, 262n Zevit, Ziony 76n
Wittgenstein, Ludwig 149 Zimmermann, Heinrich 101, 150n
Wolff, Hans J. 74n Zimmermann, Ruben 98n
Wrede, William 150n Zuntz, Günther 240, 241, 242
INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES
An “n” after a page number indicates that the reference appears only in the footnotes.
Old Testament/Hebrew Scriptures
Genesis 94, 121n 24:3–8 79

2:2 120 24:4 41
8:21a 47 24:4–11 66
14 28 24:5 41
14:17–20 92 24:7 41
15 78, 79n 24:8 41, 121
15:9–10 79 24:10 41n
17 79n 24:10a 41
17:8 181n 24:11 41n
17:10–14 79 24:11a 41
17:23–27 79 24:11b 41
18–19 163 24:18 121
21:22 76 29 41, 42, 52, 58
22:1 115 29:1 42
22:1–14 45n 29:5–6 42
22:13 79 29:7 42
22:15–18 79n, 86, 87, 88 29:20 42
22:16–17 91n 29:20–21 51
22:16–18 86 29:21 42
22:17 101 29:29 42
23:4 181n 29:36–37 42
24:1–67 76n 29:44 42
24:41 77 30:22–33 42
26:26 76 31:12–17 120
26:28 76n 31:17b 4, 120, 124
32:31MT (32:30ET ) 41, 52n 31:18–32:35 4, 118, 120, 122,
35:22 111n 123, 124
37:1 183n 31:18–34:35 119
38 111n 32 86
49:11 51 32–33 118
32–34 118, 121, 122,
Exodus 65, 119, 121n, 123
225 32:1–14 86
6:7 92n 32:7 121
12 52n 32:10 86
12:2 120 32:11–14 123n
12:13 52n 32:13 86
12:23 52n 32:13–14 88
19:21–24 41, 52n 32:22–24 111n
22:19 119n 32:29 86–87
24 52 32:34 119
24:1–11 41, 52n, 58 33:1–34:35 122
290 index of ancient sources
33:2–3 119 7:5 46n

33:20 41, 52n 7:11–27 41n
34:1–10 123n 7:38 45
34:1–19 123n 8 41, 42, 52, 58
34:27–35 119 8:7–9 42
34:28 121 8:11 42
8:12 42
Leviticus 39, 121n, 225 8:13 42
1–7 39, 43, 45n, 8:21 46n
87 8:23–24 42, 51
1:9 46n 8:30 42, 51
1:11 43 15:31b 41n
1:13 46n 16 3, 29, 31, 52n,
1:17 46n 57n, 58, 87
2 44, 45, 58 16:2 30
2:1 45, 46 16:3 32
2:2 46 16:13 30
2:3 46 16:14–16 52n
2:4 45 16:16 32
2:7 45 16:16b 41n
2:9 46 16:18 52n
2:11 46n 16:20 31n
2:12 45 16:20a 52n
2:14 92n 16:21 32
2:16 46 16:23 31
3 47 16:24 31
3:5 46n 16:25 46n
3:11 46n 16:27–28 191
3:16 46n 16:28 31
4:1–5:13 45 16:29–31 31
4:5–7 47 16:32 31
4:10 46n 16:33–34 31
4:12 46n 16:34LXX 34
4:16–18 47 17:11 33, 40, 41n,
4:19 46n 52n
4:19–20a 47 17:14 41
4:20b 47 20:3 41n
4:21 46n 26 77, 83n, 123n
4:25 47 26:12 92n
4:26 46n 26:14–39 77n, 83n
4:26a 47 26:25 77n
4:26b 47
4:30 47 Numbers 121n
4:31 46n 6:22–27 66
4:31a 47 6:24–27 111n
4:31b 47 12:7LXX 28
4:34 47 13–14 119, 121
4:35 46n 14:20–23 87n
4:35a 47 14:29 121
4:35b 47 14:29–35 121
5:11–13 45, 58 19:1–11 58
6:17–21 33n 19:13 41n
6:17–23MT (6:24–30ET ) 40 19:20 41n
6:20–21 40 24:16 102
index of ancient sources 291
Deuteronomy 94, 121n, 244 1 Kings

4:23 77n 2:23 77n
4:24 99 3:5–13 279n
4:25–40 123n 3:16–28 279n
4:26 77n 4:32 279n
4:31 76n 4:33–34 279n
7:12 76n 18:21–40 44, 46
8:18 76n 18:23 44
9:19 119n 18:24b 47
12:1–28 48 18:26 44
17:2–7 77n 18:27–39 118n
27:14–26 66 18:33 44
28 77, 83n, 123n 18:38 44, 46
28:15–68 77n, 83n
28:26LXX 84 2 Kings
29:9 76 6:31 77n
29:10 76 11:4 76
29:11MT (29:12ET ) 76n
29:13MT (29:14ET ) 76n 2 Chronicles
29:19MT (29:20ET ) 77 13:22 91n
30:7 77 24:27 91n
31:6 165
31:8 165 Ezra
31:9–13 110n 1 113n
31:16 77n 16 113n
31:20 76n
34:10 102 Nehemiah 108
8:1–8 108
Joshua 8:8 108, 112n
7:11 77n 8:14–15 110n
7:15 77n
9:15 76n Esther 269n, 270n
9:15–20 76
23:16 77n Psalms 27, 29, 93, 94,
95, 114, 260n
Ruth 270n 2 141
1:17 77n 2:7 28, 91n
8 28, 141
1 Samuel 94 8:4–6 91
2:6 56 10:7 77
2:35 94 11:5 115n
3:17 77n 14:4LXX 28
14:44 77n 22 55
20:13 77n 22:23 (21:23LXX) 97
25:22 77n 34:15 (33:15LXX) 99
39:7–9LXX 60
2 Samuel 94 40:6–8 92, 142n
3:9 77n 40:7 (39:7LXX) 95
3:35 77n 40:7bMT (40:6bET ) 61n
7:14 94 40:8 (39:8LXX) 95, 96
11:2–27 111n 45:7LXX 28
13 111n 51:19MT (51:17ET ) 48, 49
19:14MT 77n 59:13 77
23:2 97 69:13 115n
89:3 76n 23:10 77

90:4 29 31 20, 94, 118
94:7–11 91n 31:31–34 4, 98, 117, 118,
95 (94LXX) 28, 91, 94, 119, 120, 123,
97, 100 124
95:7–11 87n, 91, 119 31:32–39 118
97:7 28 31:33 99
109:4 92 31:33–34 20
110 (109LXX) 94, 103, 141 31:33–40 118
110:1 253n 31:35–40 118
110:4 (109:4LXX) 87n, 91n, 92 34 79n
116:8 55 34:18–20 79
117:6LXX 165 34:18–21 77n
42:5 77n
Proverbs 271 51:22LXX 83n
Qoheleth (Ecclesiastes) viii, 6, 8, 265, Lamentations (Ekhah) 115n, 121n,

266, 267, 123n
268, 269,
270, 271, Ezekiel
272, 273, 9:2–3 31
274, 275, 9:11 31
277, 278, 10:2 31
279, 280 16 76n
1:1 265n 16:8 76
1:8 271 17:13 76
2:24 271 17:13–19 75, 76, 77
9:2 279 17:15 84
12 279n 17:16 77
12:2 279 17:19 77
12:12 278 34:29 83n
36:6LXX 83n
Song of Songs 268n, 270n, 40:39–41 43
271
Daniel
Isaiah 113 10:6 31
24:6 77 12:1 51
26:20 95
33:8–12 77n Hosea
52:5 256n 6:7 77n
53LXX 83 7:13 77n
53:3 83n 8:11 77n
53:3–4 83 10:4 76n
53:4 83n 13:14 56
53:11 83n
53:12LXX 83 Habakkuk
55:6–56:8 123n 2:3–4 95
Jeremiah 93, 113 Zechariah

8:13–9:23 123n 8:19 121
11:10 77n
11:16 77n Malachi 28, 31
22:8–12 77n 2:7 31
New Testament/Christian Scriptures
Matthew 93, 229, 243 6:26–59 117n

1:23 93n 6:59 109n, 117n
2:6 93n 18:20 109n, 117n
2:15 93n 18:29 80n
2:18 93n
2:23 93n Acts 228, 276
4:15–16 93n 2:22 228n
4:23 109n, 117n 2:43 228n
5:9 99n 4:30 228n
5:17 94n 5:12 228n
7:12 94n 6:8 228n
8:17 93n 7:7 52n
9:35 109n, 117n 7:36 228n
11:13 94n 7:42 52n
12:18–21 93n 9:20 109n
13:35 93n 13:14 108n
13:54 109n, 117n 13:14–16 109n
21:5 93n 13:14–41 109
27:9–10 93n 13:15 94n, 112, 116,
27:51 229n 133n, 208
13:16–41 114, 117n
Mark 229 13:22 208
1:21 117n 13:42 108n
1:21–22 109n 13:44 108n
1:39 109n 14:3 228n
6:2 109n, 117n 15:12 228n
13:7–23 51 17:2 108n
15:38 229n 17:2–3 117n
18:2–4 276n
Luke 229 18:4 108n
4:15 109n, 117n 18:18 276n
4:16 108n 18:26 276n
4:17 112 19:8 109n
4:17–20 112 24:14 94n
4:18–19 113 28:23 94n
4:18–27 117n 28:28 202
4:21–27 114
4:31–32 109n Romans 7, 52, 53, 217n,
4:44 109n 219, 223, 241,
6:6 109n, 117n 242, 260n, 274n
13:10 109n, 117n 1–11 259
13:16–41 114 1:1–4 258
16:16 94n 1:5 259
16:29 94n 2:2 53
16:31 94n 2:17–24 256
23:44 229n 2:17–29 257
24:27 94n 2:24 256n
24:44 94n 3:9 257
3:21 94n
John 3:22 258n
1:45 94n 3:23 257
4:48 228n 3:24 241n
3:24–26 241 7:37 204n

3:25 256, 258n, 260n 9:16 204n
3:26 258n 10:1–22 93
5:8 258n 10:16 241n
5:9 241n 11:25 263
5:12 255 11:27 241n
5:18 256 12:22 204n
5:19 258n 15:20–28 256
5:21 256 16:19 276n
6 260n, 262
6:1–13 258 2 Corinthians 204, 223n
6:4 257 3:6 263
6:10 256 5:17 257
6:11–13 257 6:4 204n
6:13 257, 260 8:9 258
6:16 260 9:5 204n
6:19 260 9:7 204n
7:7–23 257 12:10 204n
7:7–25 257 12:12 228n
8 241n, 258n
8:1–4 257 Galatians viii, 88, 199,
8:3 260n 219n, 223n, 248,
8:14–17 258 260n, 274n
8:18–21 255 1:4 256, 258n
8:18–39 258 2–4 273
8:20–21 255 2:20 258
9–10 273 3:6–9 256
9–11 199 3:6–25 88
10:4 257 3:7–29 263
10:9 257 3:12–13 257
10:12–13 95 3:14 257
10:16 95 3:15 263n
10:18 95 3:19–25 357
12 153, 260n, 262 3:22 258n
12:1 53, 57, 61, 260n 4:12 258
12:1–2 257 5:6 258
12:1–3 260 6:6–10 153
12:1–15:13 259 6:10 152
12:2 257 6:11 273
12:3 260n, 262n
12:13 163 Ephesians 219, 220, 222,
13:9 202 223, 224, 274n
15:7 259 4:25–6:9 54
15:7–12 257 5:1 54
15:16 259, 260 5:1–2 54
15:18 259 5:2 54, 55, 57, 63
15:19 228n 5:8–9 54
16:3–5 276n
16:26 259 Philippians 223n, 261
1:10 257
1 Corinthians 204, 219, 223 1:27 257
2:6 257, 263 2 261
3:3 82n 2:1–11 258
7:26 204n 2:5 258, 262
2:5–11 261n 133, 134, 135,

2:6 261 136, 141, 142,
2:6–11 261 143, 144, 146,
2:7–8 261 147, 148, 149,
2:8 258n, 261 150, 151, 153,
2:9 261 154, 156, 159,
2:11 256 160, 168, 169,
2:17 260n 170, 171, 174,
2:19–24 262 177, 179, 180,
2:20–21 262 181, 186, 187,
2:22 262 188, 189, 190,
2:25–30 262 192, 193, 195,
2:26 262 197, 198, 199,
2:29–30 262 200, 201, 202,
2:31 262 204, 205, 206,
3:4–17 262 207, 208, 209,
3:4b–7 262 210, 213, 214,
3:12–14 262 215, 216, 217,
3:15–17 262 218, 219, 220,
3:20 257 221, 222, 223,
4:18 53, 54, 57, 63, 224, 225, 226,
260n 227, 228, 229,
231, 232, 233,
Colossians 223n 234, 235, 236,
239, 240, 241,
1 Thessalonians 223n 242, 243, 244,
245, 246, 247,
2 Thessalonians 219n, 223n 248, 249, 250,
2:9 228n 251, 254n, 255,
259, 260, 261,
2 Timothy 262, 263, 264,
4:19 276n 265, 266, 267,
268, 272, 273,
Philemon 223n 274, 275, 276,
277, 278, 279,
Hebrews vii, viii, 1, 2, 3, 280
4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 1 28, 141
13, 14, 15, 18, 1–2 119
19, 25, 27, 28, 1–4 91
33, 34, 37, 38, 1–6 119, 122
50, 54, 55, 56, 1–12 153
57, 58, 59, 60, 1:1 94, 117
61, 62, 63, 65, 1:1–2 245
66, 67, 68, 69, 1:1–4 250n
70, 71, 88, 89, 1:1–5 104
90, 93, 94, 95, 1:1–13 104
96, 97, 98, 99, 1:1–14 91
100, 101, 102, 1:1–2:18 91
103, 104, 105, 1:1–4:13 150
107, 111, 113, 1:2 99, 100, 117
115, 116, 117, 1:3 14, 67, 95, 120n,
118, 119, 120, 172, 253n
121, 122, 123, 1:3–4 70
124, 131, 132, 1:4 261
1:5 94 3:7–4:11 87n, 94, 156,

1:5–14 123, 172 157, 251, 253
1:6 71n, 96n, 117 3:7–4:13 91, 263n
1:7 96n, 117 3:8 99, 186
1:8 96n, 141, 172 3:10 117
1:10 261n 3:12 99, 120, 250
1:10–12 250 3:12–13 155n
1:13 141, 144, 250, 3:12–4:11 91
253n 3:13 120n, 161
1:14 251 3:14 154n, 254
2 141 3:15 117, 186
2:1 117, 154n, 157 3:16–19 91
2:2 85, 117, 227 3:17 120n, 121, 186
2:2–3 119 4 186, 188
2:3 117, 134, 206, 4:1 144, 156, 186,
227, 251 188
2:3–4 156n, 228 4:1–3 28
2:4 262 4:1–11 120
2:5–8 91 4:1–13 121
2:5–3:6 252n 4:2 253, 263n
2:6 96, 97 4:3 117, 156
2:6–8 28 4:4 4, 96n, 97, 117,
2:7 141, 172 120, 124
2:8 141, 250 4:6 188, 253, 263n
2:9 13, 70, 85, 87, 4:7 96n, 117
88, 172 4:8 117
2:9–18 261 4:9–11 253
2:10 6, 144, 172, 205 4:11 156, 162, 186,
2:10–18 162 254
2:10–3:6 70 4:12 94
2:11 172 4:12–13 120n
2:12 116 4:14 14, 154n, 187,
2:12–13 96 254
2:14 57, 59, 85 4:14–15 155
2:14–15 253 4:14–16 133n, 149
2:14–18 229n 4:14–5:10 142, 252n
2:15 85, 144, 170 4:14–10:18 149n, 150, 251n
2:16 101, 263 4:15 120n, 155
2:17 94, 120n 4:16 62, 116, 156,
2:18 155 172, 188, 251n,
3 28, 186, 188 254n
3–4 100 4:19 62
3–6 119, 121 4:22 62
3:1 154n, 172, 187 5–7 92
3:1–6 91, 102 5–10 62
3:2 94 5:1 120n
3:2–6 261 5:1–6 91n
3:2c 91n 5:1–7:28 91
3:3 172 5:3 120n
3:3–6a 91n 5:4–5 172
3:6 94, 154n, 254 5:6 97, 117
3:7 97, 117 5:7 37, 38, 55, 56,
3:7–11 119 57, 61, 63, 229n
3:7–19 121 5:7–9 155
5:7–10 91n, 142 7:22 60

5:8 261 7:24–8:6 252n
5:9 251 7:25 156, 251n
5:11 156n 7:26 6, 120n, 205,
5:11–6:2 116, 156n 261
5:11–6:3 171 7:27 56, 57, 120n,
5:11–6:12 91n 204
5:12 97, 116, 117, 7:28 92n, 117
134 8 203
6:1 23 8–9 66, 196n
6:2 235 8–10 98, 99, 102
6:4 207, 208, 262 8:1 6, 14, 66, 155,
6:4–6 154n 172, 202
6:4–8 6, 170, 207, 208 8:1–13 170
6:5 100 8:1–10:18 251n
6:6 13, 120n 8:1–10:25 158
6:7–8 123n 8:2 14, 66
6:9 170, 251 8:3 6, 14, 29, 66,
6:10 116, 161 203, 204n
6:11 162 8:3–4 66
6:12 156n 8:3–9:10 66
6:13 263 8:4 67, 117
6:13–14 91n 8:5 19, 34, 66, 117
6:13–15 253 8:6 20, 52n, 60, 66,
6:13–18 79 99
6:13–20 87, 88 8:7–13 263
6:14 79, 101, 117 8:8 117
6:15 186 8:8–12 98, 117
6:15–20 91n 8:9 117
6:18 6, 155, 207 8:10 66, 117
6:18–19 154n 8:12 21, 120n
6:19 155, 188 8:13 25n, 117, 225
6:19–20 229 9 21, 57, 59, 63,
6:19–20a 251n 69, 73, 83, 92,
6:20 19, 82n, 144, 143, 202
156 9:1 66, 117
7 56, 92, 94, 202 9:1–5 67
7–10 73, 94, 122 9:1–10 21, 57, 67n
7:1 67 9:1–28 87
7:1–2 91n 9:2 57n
7:3 215 9:2–3 66
7:3–27 92n 9:2–5 143
7:4 154n 9:3 57n
7:5 117 9:4 117
7:11 87, 117 9:6 57n, 66
7:11–28 67, 170 9:6–14 158
7:12 117, 204 9:7 66, 67, 122
7:16 117 9:7–10 13
7:17 96 9:8 20, 22, 66
7:18 87, 117, 252n, 9:8–10 21
263 9:9 21, 52n, 66, 173
7:19 117, 156 9:10 22, 117, 235
7:20–22 87n 9:11 60, 66
7:21 96n, 117 9:11–12 22, 70, 142
9:11–14 13, 33 10:1 22–23, 60, 117,

9:11–28 66, 67n 274n
9:11–10:18 252n 10:1–18 92, 142
9:12 14, 19, 57, 62, 10:2 20, 21, 23, 120n,
66, 142 173
9:13 60, 66 10:3 21, 67, 87, 120n
9:13–14 60 10:4 6, 20, 60, 120n,
9:14 14, 23, 52n, 57, 207
60, 66, 157, 173, 10:5 19, 61, 95
250, 262 10:5–7 60, 96
9:15 4, 59, 66, 69, 10:5–10 61
70, 81, 82, 83, 10:5–39 92
85, 86, 87, 88, 10:6 95, 120n
117, 251 10:7 61, 95, 96, 117,
9:15–18 3, 68, 69, 71, 142n
72, 80, 85 10:8 117, 120n
9:15–22 3, 65, 73, 81 10:9 61, 144, 225
9:16 70, 71, 79, 80, 10:10 19, 61, 63
82, 83, 85, 204 10:11 20, 60, 120n
9:16a 81 10:12 120n
9:16b 73, 82 10:12–13 70, 172
9:16–17 3, 59, 69, 71, 10:14 23, 85, 251
72, 73, 74, 75, 10:15–17 85, 99
79, 80, 81, 84, 10:16 117
85 10:16–17 20, 117
9:17 70, 74, 80, 85, 10:17 21, 120n
227n, 228 10:18 82n, 120n
9:17a 73, 83 10:19 62, 155, 156,
9:17b 74, 80, 84, 85, 157, 188, 251n
88 10:19–20 19, 229
9:18 69, 70, 84 10:19–21 34
9:18–21 67, 85 10:19–22 19, 158
9:18–22 80, 82, 84 10:19–25 149, 254n
9:18–23 66 10:20 157
9:19 66, 67, 84, 94, 10:21 155
102, 117 10:22 21, 34, 62, 156,
9:19–20 58, 229 173
9:20 97, 117 10:23 154n, 187
9:21 66 10:24 150, 155n, 161n
9:21–22 58 10:24–25 254
9:21–22a 58n 10:24–25a 161
9:22 85, 117 10:25 116, 150, 155n
9:22–23 66 10:26 120n
9:23 60, 66, 67, 204 10:26–31 120n, 170
9:24 19, 66, 191 10:28 85, 94, 102, 117
9:25 66 10:28–29 154n
9:26 22, 66, 120n, 10:29 117
142 10:30 117
9:27 120n 10:30b 96n
9:28 22, 37, 38, 66, 10:31 250
83, 85, 120n, 10:32 154n
251 10:32–33 171
10 92 10:32–34 131n, 134, 144,
10–13 123 156n, 163, 253
10:33–34 152 12:1–4 254n

10:34 155, 226 12:2 13, 144, 162,
10:35 155 173, 261, 262
10:37 123 12:2–3 154n, 172, 190,
10:37–38 95 252n
10:38 95 12:3 120n, 262
10:39 170 12:4 120n, 134, 157,
11 6, 87, 100, 101, 226
180, 182, 183, 12:5–6 92
184, 185, 189, 12:5–11 116
190, 253, 262 12:12–14 157
11:1 173 12:14 99
11:1–40 155 12:15 155n
11:1–12:2 170 12:15–17 156
11:1–12:3 254 12:18–24 157
11:4–5 183 12:18 190
11:5 185 12:20 83n
11:6 6, 156, 207 12:21 97, 119n
11:7 183 12:22 116, 190, 250,
11:8 157, 182 251n
11:8–10 157, 180 12:22–23 158
11:8–16 172 12:22–24 85, 251n, 254
11:8–19 92 12:23 71n, 116, 120n,
11:9 158, 181n, 182, 251
186 12:24 70
11:10 158, 184, 251 12:25 84, 154n, 250n,
11:11 185 253n
11:11–12 186 12:25–29 120n
11:12 185 12:26 117
11:13 185, 186, 187 12:26–28 250
11:13–16 157, 180 12:28 144, 153, 157,
11:14 158, 186, 188 158, 168
11:15 188, 189n 12:28–29 160
11:16 158, 172, 189, 12:29 99
190n 13 6, 34, 150, 151,
11:17 87 153, 160, 161,
11:17–19 79, 87 162, 190n, 192,
11:24–27 172 195, 196
11:25 95, 120n 13:1 162
11:25–26 189 13:1–2a 152
11:27 157 13:1–5a 160
11:29 157 13:1–6 161
11:32 218n, 265n, 276 13:1–7 197
11:36 152 13:1–9 197n
11:36–38 163 13:1–17 254
11:37–38 190 13:2 116, 163, 174,
11:38 172 189n
11:39 190 13:2b 165
11:40 190, 251 13:3 116, 145, 163
12 92, 190 13:3b 165
12:1 120n, 155, 157, 13:4 120n, 150, 159,
190, 253, 262 164
12:1–3 34, 155, 254, 13:4b 165
262 13:5 117, 155n
13:5a 164 13:18–25 221

13:5b–6 160, 165, 173 13:19 161
13:6 97 13:20–21 149, 265n
13:7 116, 117, 150, 13:20–25 104
154n, 156, 165, 13:21 172
166 13:22 6, 105, 116,
13:7–17 160, 165 133n, 149, 161,
13:8 21, 166, 261n 208
13:8–10 166 13:22–25 105
13:9 150, 161, 193, 13:23 116, 134, 265n,
196, 235 274
13:9–10 166 13:23–24 102
13:9–11 243 13:24 116, 135, 165,
13:9–16 191, 193, 195, 166
196, 197, 254n
13:10 155, 196 1 Peter 179n, 180n,
13:10–12 20 181n, 191n,
13:11 120n, 191 216n, 220, 230n,
13:11–14 167 236
13:12 63
13:12–13 142 2 Peter 230n, 275n
13:13 20, 82n–83n, 2:11 80n
157, 189, 191, 3:11 99n
195, 197 3:15 219n
13:13–14 151, 157, 160,
172 1 John
13:14 20, 158 1:5 50
13:15 34, 187n, 260n 1:7 50, 52, 54, 57,
13:15–16 20, 63, 168, 193, 58
196 1:10 51
13:15a 168
13:15b–16a 168 Jude 150
13:16 116, 152, 153
13:16a 152 Revelation 218
13:16b 168 3:5 51
13:17 116, 150, 165, 6:11 51
166 7:9 51
13:18 21, 165, 166, 7:14 51, 52, 57, 58
174 7:15 52
13:18–19 37n, 104 18:4 167
Jewish Literature
"Abot de Rabbi Nathan 270n 31b 112, 123n

71 266n
Babylonian Talmud 110, 113
Gi††in ”abbat
38b 115n 30b 266n, 268n
Megillah Ta'anit
7a 269n 12a 121
24a 111, 113 29a 121, 123
29b 110, 113
Dead Sea Scrolls vii, 215 Leviticus Rabbah

CD 18:1 115n
I, 3 77n 28:1 266n
I, 17–18 77n
III, 10–11 77n 1 Maccabees
XV, 4–5 77n 10:24 208
1Q22 1 I, 10 77n
4Q174 92 2 Maccabees
4Q266 2 I, 21 77n 6–7 95
4Q269 2 I, 6 77n
4Q390 1 I, 6 77n 3 Maccabees
1:16 55
Genesis Rabbah
1:1 279n 4 Maccabees
55:2–3 115 2:14 82n
6:34 82n
Jerusalem Talmud 14:11 82n
Berakot 14:14 82n
2:4 123 14:19 82n
15:2 95
Ta'anit 15:8 95
12a 121 17:22 241n
Josephus 108, 139 Mekilta de Rabbi Yishma"el 90

Antiquitates iudaicae
1.154 181 Mishnah 112, 113,
1.157 181 115n, 123
16.43 109n "Abot
1:12 99n
Bellum judaicum
6.420 141n 'Eduyyot
7.118 140 5:3 266n
7.121 138n
7.123 139 Megillah
7.123–162 139 3:4 111, 113
7.124–126 139 3:10 111n, 113
7.127–130 139 4:5–6 111, 112
7.137–138 140 4:6 123n
7.139–147 140
7.148–150 143 Ro“ Ha““anah
7.148–151 140 1:1 121
7.152 139n 1:3 121
7.153 140
7.153–155 140 Ta'anit
7.156 140 4:6 121, 123
7.158–161 137
Yadayim
Contra Apionem 3:5 266n, 268n
1.38–46 95
2.77 225n Numbers Rabbah
2.175 108n 161b 266n
Lamentations Rabbah Pesiqta de Rab Kahana 122

Proem 17 115n 101b 115n
Pesiqta Rabbati 122 Seder 'Olam Rabbah

10:6 119 6 121
10:9 119
Sipra 90
Philo vii, 92, 93,
108, 181, Sipre Deuteronomy 90
192, 215 357 102
De Abrahamo Sipre Numbers 90

62 181n
Sirach
Quod deterius potiori insidari soleat 35:1–3 48
146 21 35:1–5 49
160 192n 35:4 (35:6–7ET ) 49n
35:5LXX (35:8ET ) 48
Quod Deus sit immutabilis
74 97n Targum Qoheleth 270
1:1–2 270
De ebrietate 1:12–18 271
61 97n
100 192n Testament of Simeon
5:2 99n
De gigantibus
54 192n Tosefta 121, 123n
Megillah
Legum allegoriae 3:1–9 113
2.54–55 192n 3(4):10 111
3:18 113
De opificio mundi
71 19n Sukkah
4:6 108n
De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini
76–87 92n Ta'anit
4:6 121
De somniis
2.127 108n Yadayim
2:14 270n
Qoheleth Rabbah 270, 279n
1:3 266n, 268n Wisdom of Solomon
11:9 266n, 268n 7:25–26 95
11:25 95
Christian Literature
Augustine 213 Epistolae ad Romanos inchoata expositio

De civitate Dei 11.3–4 [PL 35.2095] 274
10.5 213n, 274
16.22 213n De haeresibus
89 274
De doctrina christiana
2.8.12–13 213n, 274 Barnabas 236
Clement of Alexandria 6.14.2 273n

Stromata 6.14.4 266n, 273n
5.10.62 273n 6.20.3 266n
6.7.62 273n 6.25.11–14 266n, 273
6.25.14 275n
Clement of Rome 274n
1 Clement 134, 183, Ignatius of Antioch 219n, 220,
184, 215n, 224n, 234
219n, 220n,
224, 230, 236 Jerome 213, 271, 274
9–13 183, 184 Epistulae
9.2 183 58 274
9.3 183 129.7 213n
9.4 183
10 182 John Chrysostom 224
10.1 183
10.1–2 182 Justin 236
10.4 182
10.7 182, 183 Melito of Sardis 236
11.1 183, 184 De Pascha 222
12.1 183
36.2–6 135n Methodius of Olympus
40 225n Symposium
55:1 80n 5.7 274n
Didache Origen 224, 273

16:4–5 51 Commentarii in evangelium Joannis
1.20 273n
Diognetus
3 225n De principiis
1.5.1 273n
Ephraem of Syria 274
Polycarp of Smyrna 219n, 220
Epiphanius of Salamis 274
Theodore of Mopsuestia
Eusebius 236
Historia ecclesiastica In Epistolam Pauli ad Hebraeos
2.17.12 274n Commentarii Fragmenta
2.17.12–13 266n PG 66.952 274n
3.3.1–7 266n
3.3.5 274n Tertullian 236
3.38.2 275n
3.38.2–3 266n De pudicitia
5.26.1 266n 20 274n
Other Writings
Anaximenes of Aristotle 207

Lampsacus 202, 203 Ethica nicomachea
Rhetorica ad Alexandrum 203n 4.2.2 (1122a) 205n
1.4 (1421b, 23–27) 203n
1.12 (1422a, 20–21) 207n Poetica
9.1 (1451a) 204
Rhetorica Paulus Orosius

1.3.5 (1358b) 203 Historiae
1.3.8 (1359a) 208 7.9 139n
1.4.2 (1359a) 205
1.4.3 (1359a) 207 Publius Rutilius Lupus 205
2.18.5 (1392a) 207 Schemata Dianoeas et
lexeos 205n
Cassiodorus
Variae Philostratus
10.30.1 140n Life of Apollonius
4.46 145n
Cassius Dio
Historia Romana Plato 202
65.12 (epitome) 138n Crito
44c 173
Cicero 46c–47d 173
De republica Gorgias
6:23/25–6:24/26 173 526d–527e 173
Dio Chrysostom Pliny the Younger 234

Achilles (Or. 58)
3.7 145n Plutarch
11.5–6 145n Moralia 222n
De regno i (Or. 1) De Superstitione 222

9.4 209
Quintilian
Diodorus of Sicily Institutio oratoria
Bibliotheca historica 3.6.2 203
15.16.2 209 3.8.25 207
3.8.35 206
Hermogenes of Tarsus 203 3.11.3 203
Progymnasmata 3.11.27 203
6 203n 9.3.99 205
11 206 10.1.27 206
10.1.71 206
Staseis
7 203n Suetonius
De vita Caesarum
Isocrates 202 8.6 138n
Lucian 162, 163, Tacitus 234n

164, 169 Annales
De morte Peregrini 6.5.9 145n
12–13 162, 171 15.44 134n
16 163
Xenophon
Nikolaos of Myra De vectigalibus
Progymnasmata 204 4.23 34n
Ovid
Metamorphoses
8.620–724 163

GELARDINI Gabriella 2005 Hebrews Contemporary Methods New Insights Biblical Interpretation Series 75 Leiden and Bosto

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Hebrews

Biblical Interpretation Series

Editorial Advisory Board

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hebrews : contemporary methods, new insights / edited by Gabriella Gelardini.

Foreword .................................................................................... vii

CULTIC LANGUAGE, CONCEPTS,

Does the Cultic Language in Hebrews Represent

Some Remarks on Hebrews from the Viewpoint of

Characteristics of Sacriﬁcial Metaphors in Hebrews .............. 37

Covenant, Cult, and the Curse-of-Death: DiayÆkh in

The Epistle to the Hebrews as a “Jesus-Midrash” .................. 89

Hebrews, an Ancient Synagogue Homily for Tisha be-Av:

SOCIOLOGY, ETHICS, AND RHETORIC IN HEBREWS

Portraying the Temple in Stone and Text: The Arch

How to Entertain Angels: Ethics in the Epistle to

The Intersection of Alien Status and Cultic Discourse

Reﬂections of Rhetorical Terminology in Hebrews ................ 199

TEXTUAL-HISTORICAL, COMPARATIVE, AND

Locating Hebrews within the Literary Landscape

Hebrews and the Heritage of Paul .......................................... 239

Paul and Hebrews: A Comparison of Narrative Worlds ........ 245

Constructions and Collusions: The Making and

Despite generations of learned commentators, the Epistle to the

groundbreaking work of Hans Dieter Betz on the rhetoric of Galatians

The present volume comprises a selection of twelve of the ﬁnest

Willi-Plein). The fourteen contributors form an intriguing international

pretation. The authors opt in conclusion to perceive the sacriﬁcial lan-

important day of fast in Jewish tradition, Tisha be-Av. This sugges-

of practice. It is this cognitive, normative, and emotional orientation

corpora that portray something of the “symbolic worlds” created by

Style and abbreviations in this volume conform to the guidelines

Internationales Abkürzungsverzeichnis für Theologie und Grenzgebiete [IATG2]:

CULTIC LANGUAGE, CONCEPTS,

Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann

Metaphysics—the white mythology which reassem-

1. Metaphors, History and Representation

The letter to the Hebrews seems to be a good example of the inter-

ritual at Yom Kippur by passing through a tabernacle, Christ has

epistemology regards (historical) representation to be a reproduction

1.1. Occidental Rationalism

which is transparent and available to all human beings regardless of

the eighteenth century as the “Classical Order” gave way to “History,”

1.2. The Epistemological Paradigm of the West Distinguishes Between the

as an additional and metaphorical interpretation, or, to reactivate a

2. Some Basic Ideas in Hebrews

Christ as the eternal high priest in heaven, a surpassing sacriﬁce (i.e.,

remembrance of sins (Heb 10:3). The new covenant, however, includes

3. Two Exegetical Details (Heb 9)

10:1, eﬁw tÚ dihnek¢w oÈd°pote dÊnatai toÁw proserxom°nouw telei«sai;

Prof. Dr. theol. Ekkehard W. Stegemann

Prof. Dr. theol. Wolfgang Stegemann

The Epistle to the Hebrews presupposes the cultic concept of the

(1) The semantic diversity and complex history of what we use to

(2) Israelite mental conceptions of cultic space (holy places, build-

‘Zentrums’”: Friedhelm Hartenstein, Die Unzugänglichkeit Gottes im Heiligtum: Jesaja 6