Excerpt from Introduction found in The Expositor’s Greek Testament

THE EXPOSITOR’S GREEK TESTAMENT

EDITED BY THE REV.

W. ROBERTSON NICOLL, M.A., LL.D.

EDITOR OF “THE EXPOSITOR,” “THE EXPOSITOR’S BIBLE,” ETC.

VOLUME I.

NEW YORK

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

THE GOSPELS

ACCORDING TO

MATTHEW, MARK AND LUKE

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I

CONCERNING THE THREE GOSPELS

Alexander Balmain Bruce, The Synoptic Gospels (New York: George H. Doran Company, n.d.), 1–3.

SECTION II. HISTORICITY

1. The Gospels primâ facie wear the aspect of books aiming at giving a true if not a full account of the life, and more especially of the public career, of Jesus Christ, the Author of the Christian faith. For Christians, writings having such an aim must possess unique interest. There is nothing an earnest believer in Christ more desires to know than the actual truth about Him: what He said, did, and experienced. How far do the books, the study of which is to engage our attention, satisfy this desire? To what extent are they historically reliable?

2. The question has been recently propounded and discussed: What interest did the apostolic age take in the evangelic history? and the conclusion arrived at that the earthly life of Jesus interested it very little.1 Now, there can be no doubt that, comparing that age with the present time, the statement is true. We live in an age when the historical spirit is in the ascendant, creating an insatiable desire to know the origins of every movement which has affected, to any extent, the fortunes of humanity. Moreover, Christianity has undergone an evolution resulting in types of this religion which are, on various grounds, unsatisfactory to many thoughtful persons. Hence has arisen a powerful reaction of which the watchword is—“Back to Christ,” and to which additional intensity has been given by the conviction that modern types of Christianity, whether ecclesiastical, philosophical, or pietistic, all more or less foster, if they do not avow, indifference to the historic foundations of the faith. We have thus a religious as well as a scientific reason for our desire to know the actual Jesus of history. In the primitive era, faith was free to follow its native tendency to be content with its immediate object, the Risen Lord, and to rely on the inward illumination of the Holy Spirit as the source of all knowledge necessary for a godly life. This indifference might conceivably pass into hostility. Faith might busy itself in transforming unwelcome facts so as to make the history serve its purpose. For the historic interest and the religious are not identical. Science wants to know the actual facts; religion wants facts to be such as will serve its ends. It sometimes idealises, transforms, even invents history to accomplish this object. We are not entitled to assume, à priori, that apostolic Christianity entirely escaped this temptation. The suggestion that the faith of the primitive Church took hold of the story of Jesus and so transfigured it that the true image of Him is no longer recoverable, however sceptical, is not without plausibility. The more moderate statement that the apostolic Church, while knowing and accepting many facts about Jesus, was not interested in them as facts, but only as aids to faith, has a greater show of reason. It might well be that the teaching of Jesus was regarded not so much as a necessary source of the knowledge of truth, but rather as a confirmation of knowledge already possessed, and that the acts and experiences of Jesus were viewed chiefly in the light of verifications of His claim to be the Messiah. It does not greatly matter to us what the source of interest in the evangelic facts was so long as they are facts; if the primitive Church in its traditions concerning Jesus was simply utilising and not manufacturing history. There is good reason to believe that in the main this is the true state of the case. Not only so, there are grounds for the opinion that the historic spirit—interest in facts as facts—was not wanting even amid the fervour of the apostolic age. It may be worth while to mention some of these, seeing they make for the historicity of the main body of the evangelic tradition concerning the words, deeds, and sufferings of Jesus as these are recorded, e.g., in the Gospel of Mark.

3. In this connection it deserves a passing notice that there existed in the primitive Church a party interested in the fact-knowledge of Jesus, the knowledge of Christ “after the flesh” in Pauline phrase, a Christ party. From the statement made by St. Paul in the text from which the phrase just quoted is taken, it has been inferred that the apostle was entirely indifferent to the historical element.1 The inference seems to me hasty; but, be this as it may, what I am now concerned to point out is that, if St. Paul undervalued the facts of the personal ministry, there were those who did not. There was a party who made acquaintance with these facts a necessary qualification for the apostleship, and on this ground denied that St. Paul was an apostle. The assumption underlying the Tübingen tendency-criticism is that there were two parties in the apostolic Church interested in misrepresenting Jesus in different directions, one virtually making Him a narrow Judaist, the other making Him a Pauline universalist, neither party being worthy of implicit trust. This hypothesis presents a somewhat distorted view of the situation. It would be nearer the truth to say that there was a party interested in facts and another interested chiefly in ideas. The one valued facts without seeing their significance; the other valued ideas without taking much trouble to indicate the fact-basis. To the bias of the former party we might be indebted for knowledge of many facts in the life of Jesus, the significance of which was not understood by the transmitters of the tradition.

4. Even within the Pauline party there were those who were interested in facts and in some measure animated by the historical spirit. So far from regarding Paulinists in general as idealists, we ought probably to regard St. Paul, in his passion for ideas and apparent indifference to biographic detail, as an exception; and to think of the majority of his followers as men who, while sympathising with his universalism, shared in no small measure the common Jewish realism. Of this type was Luke. The absencc from his Gospel of even the rudiments of a doctrine of atonement, so conspicuous a topic in the Pauline epistles, will be remarked on hereafter; meantime I direct attention simply to its opening sentence. That prefatory statement is full of words and phrases breathing the fact-loving spirit: Πεπληροφορημένων πραγμάτων, ἀπʼ ἀρχῆς αὐτόπται καὶ ὑπηρέται, ἀκριβῶς, ἀσφάλειαν. The author wants to deal with facts believed; he wishes, as far as possible, to be guided by the testimony of eye-witnesses; he means to take pains in the ascertainment of the truth, that the friend for whose benefit he writes may attain unto certainty. The question here is not how far he succeeded in his aim; the point insisted on is the aim itself, the historical spirit evinced. Luke may have been unconsciously influenced to a considerable extent by religious bias, preconceived opinion, accepted Christian belief, and therefore not sufficiently critical, and too easily satisfied with evidence; but he honestly wanted to know the historic truth. And in this desire he doubtless represented a class, and wrote to meet a demand on the part of Christians who felt a keen interest in the memorabilia of the Founder, and were not satisfied with the sources at command on account of their fragmentariness, or occasional want of agreement with each other.1

5. The peculiar character of the apostle who stood at the head of the primitive Jewish Church has an important bearing on the question of historicity. For our knowledge of Peter we are not wholly dependent on the documents whose historicity is in question. We have a rapid pencil-sketch of him in the epistles of St. Paul, easily recognisable as that of the same man of whom we have a more finished picture in the Gospels. A genial, frank, impulsive, outspoken, generous, wide-hearted man; not preoccupied with theories, illogical, inconsistent, now on one side, now on the other; brave yet cowardly, capable of honest sympathy with Christian universalism, yet under pressure apt to side with Jewish bigots. A most unsatisfactory, provoking person to deal with for such a man as St. Paul, with his sharply defined position, thorough-going adherence to principle, and firm resolute will. Yes, but also a very satisfactory source of first-hand traditions concerning Jesus; an excellent witness, if a weak apostle. A source, a copious fountain of information he was bound to be. We do not need Papias to tell us this. This disciple, open-hearted and open-mouthed, must speak concerning his beloved Master. It will not be long before everybody knows what he has to tell concerning the ministry of the Lord. Papias reports that in Mark’s Gospel we have the literary record of Peter’s testimony. The statement is entirely credible. Peter would say more than others about Jesus; he would say all in a vivid way, and Mark’s narrative reflects the style of an impressionable eye-witness. If it be a faithful report of Peter’s utterances the general truth of its picture of Jesus may be implicitly relied on. For Peter was not a man likely to be biassed by theological tendency. What we expect from him is rather a candid recital of things as they happened, without regard to, possibly without perception of, their bearing on present controversies; a rough, racy, unvarnished story, unmanipulated in the interest of ideas or theories, which are not in this man’s line. How far the narratives of the second Gospel bear out this character will appear hereafter.

6. The other fact mentioned by Papias, viz., that the apostle Matthew was the source of the evangelic tradition relating to the words of Jesus, has an important bearing on historicity. Outside the Gospels we have no information concerning this disciple such as we have of Peter in the Pauline letters. But we may safely assume the truth of the Gospel accounts which represent him as having been a tax-gatherer before he was called to discipleship. The story of his call, under the name of Matthew or Levi, is told in all the three synoptists, as is also the significant incident of the feast following at which Jesus met with a large company of publicans. There is reason to believe that in calling this disciple our Lord had in view not merely ultimate service as an apostle, but immediate service in connection with the meeting with the publicans; that, in short, Jesus associated Matthew with Himself that He might use him as an instrument for initiating a mission to the class to which he had belonged. But if the Master might call a fit man to discipleship for one form of immediate service, He might call him for more than one. Another service the ex-publican might be able to render was that of secretary. In his old occupation he would be accustomed to writing, and it might be Christ’s desire to utilise that talent for noting down things worthy of record. The gift would be most in demand in connection with the teaching of the Master. The preservation of that element could not be safely trusted to memories quite equal to the retention of remarkable healing acts, accompanied by not less remarkable sayings. The use of the pen at the moment might be necessary. And of all the members of the disciple-circle the ex-publican was the likeliest man for that service. We are not surprised, therefore, that the function assigned to Matthew in connection with the evangelic tradition is the preservation of the Logia. That is just the part he was fitted to perform. As little are we surprised that Mark’s Gospel, based on Peter’s recollections, contains so little of the teaching. Peter was not the kind of man to take notes, nor were discourses full of deep thought the kind of material he was likely to remember. What would make an indelible impression on him would be, not thought, but extraordinary deeds, accompanied by striking gestures, original brief replies to embarrassing questions and the like; just such things as we find reported in the second Gospel.

From Matthew the publican might be expected not only a record of Christ’s teaching as distinct from His actions, but an impartial record. We should not suspect him any more than Peter of theological bias; least of all in the direction of Judaism. As a Galilean he belonged to a half-Gentile community, and as a publican he was an outcast for orthodox Jews. It was probably the humane spirit and wide sympathies of Jesus that drew him from the receipt of custom. If, therefore, we find in the Logia any sayings ascribed to Jesus of a universalistic character we do not feel in the least tempted to doubt their authenticity. If, on he other hand, we meet with words of an apparently opposite character we are not greatly startled and ready to exclaim, Behold the hand of an interpolator! We rather incline to see in the combination of seemingly incongruous elements the evidence of candid chronicling. It is the case of an honest reporter taking down this and that without asking himself whether this can be reconciled with that. That a deep, many-sided mind like that of Jesus might give birth to startling paradoxes is no wise incredible. Therefore, without undertaking responsibility for every expression, one may without hesitation endorse the sentiment of Jülicher, “that Jewish and anti-Jewish, revolutionary and conservative, new and old, freedom and narrowness in judgment, sensuous hopes and a spiritualism blending together present and future, meet together, by no means weakens our impression that Jesus really here speaks”.1

7. The mere fact of the preservation of Mark’s Gospel is not without a bearing on the question of historicity. In its own way it testifies to the influence of the historic as distinct from the religious spirit in the early period of the Christian era. It would not have been at all surprising if that Gospel had fallen out of existence, seeing that its contents have been absorbed into the more comprehensive Gospels of Matthew and Luke. Assuming the correctness of modern critical views, the Logia of the Apostle Matthew has disappeared; how did it come about that the second Gospel did not disappear also, especially in view of its defects, as they would be regarded, comparing it with the longer narratives of the same type? Whether the authors of the first and third Gospels aimed at superseding the Logia and Mark is a question that need not be discussed. From Luke’s preface it might plausibly be inferred that he did aspire at giving so full and satisfactory an account of the life of Jesus as should render earlier attempts superfluous. If he did, he was not successful. The Gospel without the story of the infancy, and the Sermon on the Mount, and the detailed appearances after the resurrection, survived. It might be undervalued. There is evidence of preference and partiality for one Gospel as against another in Patristic literature. Clement of Alexandria, true to his philosophy, undervalued all the synoptists as compared with the fourth Gospel, because they showed merely the body of Jesus, while the fourth Gospel showed His spirit. Augustine regarded Mark as a mere pedissequus to Matthew, en laquais, as D’Eichthal irreverently but not incorrectly renders the word.1 Still Mark held his place, mere lackey to Matthew though some supposed him to be. The reason might be in part that he had got too strong a hold before the companion Gospels appeared, to be easily dislodged, and had to be accepted in spite of defects and apparent superfluousness. But I think there was also a worthier reason, a certain diffused thankfulness for every scrap of information concerning the Lord Jesus, especially such as was believed to rest on apostolic testimony. Mark’s Gospel passed for a report of St. Peter’s reminiscences of the Master; therefore by all means let it be preserved, though it contained no account of the childhood of Jesus, and very imperfect reports of His teaching and of the resurrection. It was apostolic, therefore to be respected; as apostolic it was trustworthy, therefore to be valued. In short, the presence of the second Gospel in the New Testament, side by side with Matthew and Luke, is a witness to the prevalence in the Church of the first century of the historical spirit acting as a check on the religious spirit, whose instinctive impulse would be to obliterate traces of discrepancy, and to suppress all writings relating to the Christian origins which in their presentation of Jesus even seemed to sink below the level of the Catholic faith.

8. The foregoing five considerations all tend to make a favourable impression as to the historicity of the evangelic tradition in general. More special considerations are needful when the tradition is broken up into distinct divisions. The tradition consists of three layers. Faith would make three demands for information concerning its object: what did He teach? what did He do? how did He suffer? Some think that the first and most urgent demand would be for information concerning the teaching, and that only in the second place would there grow up a desire for narratives of facts and experiences. According to Holtzmann the order was: first the Logia, then the passion-drama, then the anecdotes of memorable acts.1 I should be inclined to invert the order of the first two items, and to say: the Passion, the Logia, the memorable incidents. But the more important question is: how far can the evangelic records concerning these three departments of the tradition be trusted? Only a few hints can be given by way of answer here.

9. The narratives of the Passion, given in all the four Gospels with disproportionate fulness, have lately been subjected to a searching analysis in a sceptical spirit rivalling that of Strauss. Dr. Brandt,2 after doing his utmost to shake our faith in the trust worthiness of these pathetic records, still leaves to us eight particulars, which even he is constrained to recognise as historical. These are: betrayal by one of the twelve; desertion by all of them; denial by Peter; death sentence under the joint responsibility of Jewish rulers and Roman procurator; assistance in carrying the cross rendered by Simon of Cyrene; crucifixion on a hill called Golgotha; the crime charged indicated by the inscription, “King of the Jews”; death, if not preceded by a prayer for the murderers, or by the despairing cry, “My God, my God,” at least heralded by a loud voice. In these particulars we have the skeleton of the story, all that is needful to give the Passion tragic significance, and even to form a basis for theological constructions. The items omitted, the process before the Sanhedrim, the interviews with Pilate and Herod, the mockery of the soldiers, the preferential release of Barabbas, the sneers of passers-by, the two thieves, the parting of the raiment, the words from the cross, the preternatural accompaniments of death, are all more or less of the nature of accessories, enhancing greatly the impressiveness of the picture, suggesting additional lessons, but not altering the character of the event as a whole.

But even accessories are important, and not to be lightly given over to the tender mercies of sceptical critics. The reasons assigned for treating them as unhistoric are not convincing. They come mostly under three heads: The influence of Old Testament prophecy, the absence of witnesses, and the bias manifest in the accounts of the trial against the Jews and in favour of the Gentiles. By reference to the first a whole group of incidents, including the cry, “Eli, Eli,” are summarily disposed of. Texts taken from Psalm 22 and Isaiah 53 created corresponding facts. This is a gratuitous assumption. The facts suggested the prophecies, the prophecies did not create the facts. The facts were there, and the primitive disciples looked out for Messianic oracles to suit them, by way of furnishing themselves with an apologetic for the thesis, Jesus is the Christ. In some cases the links of proof are weak; no one could have thought of the texts unless the facts had been there to suggest them. The plea of lack of witnesses applies to what took place between Jesus and the various authorities before whom He appeared: the High Priests, Pilate, Herod. Who, it is asked, were there to see or hear? Who likely to be available as witnesses for the evangelic tradition? We cannot tell; yet it is possible there was quite sufficient evidence, though also possible, doubtless, that the evangelists were not in all cases able to give exact verifiable information, but were obliged to give simply the best information obtainable. This, at least, we may claim for them, that they did their best to ascertain the facts. As to the alleged prejudice leading to unfair distribution of blame for our Lord’s death between the Jewish authorities and the Roman governor, we may admit that there were temptations to such partiality, arising out of natural dislike of the Jews and unequally natural desire to win the favour of those who held the reins of empire. Yet on the whole it may be affirmed that the representation of the evangelists is intrinsically credible as in harmony with all we know about the principal actors in the great tragedy.

10. With regard to the teaching, it is of course obvious that all recorded sayings of Jesus do not possess the same attestation. Some words are found in all three synoptists, some in two, and not a few in only one. Yet in many instances we can feel as sure of the authenticity of sayings found in a single Gospel as of that of sayings occurring in all the three. Who can doubt, e.g., that the word, “the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,” emanated from the great Master? It is well in this connection to have before our minds the rules by which judgment should be guided. The following canons may legitimately be relied on:—

(a) Sayings supported by full synoptical attestation may be regarded as in substance authentic.

(b) Sayings unsupported by full synoptical attestation may be regarded as authentic when their absence from a particular Gospel can be explained by its plan, or by the idiosyncrasy of its author. This covers not a few omissions by Luke.

(c) Sayings found only in a single Gospel may be accepted as authentic when they sympathise with and form a natural complement to other well-attested sayings. This remark applies to the sayings in Luke 7:47, 15:7, concerning the connection between little forgiveness and little love, and about the joy of finding things lost, which are complementary to the saying in all three synoptists: “the whole need not a physician;” the three sayings together constituting a full apology for the relations between Jesus and the sinful.

(d) All sayings possess intrinsic credibility which suit the general historical situation. This applies to Christ’s antipharisaic utterances, an element very prominent in Matthew, and very much restricted in Luke.

(e) All sayings may be accepted as self-attested and needing no other attestation which bear the unmistakable stamp of a unique religious genius, rise above the capacity of the reporters, and are reported by them simply as unforgettable memories of the great Teacher handed down by a faithful tradition.

The chief impulse to collecting the sayings of Jesus was not a purely historical interest, but a desire to find in the words of the Master what might serve as a rule to believers for the guidance of their life. Hence may be explained the topical grouping of sayings in Matthew and Luke, especially in the former, e.g., in the tenth chapter, whose rubric might be: a directory for the mission work of the church; and in the eighteenth, which might be headed: how the members of the Christian brotherhood are to behave towards each other. The question suggests itself, Would the influence of the practical aim be confined to grouping? Would it not extend to modifications, expansions, additions, even inventions, that the words of the Master might cover all present requirements and correspond fully to present circumstances and convictions? On this topic Weizsäcker makes the following statement: “From the beginning the tradition consisted not in mere repetition, but in repetition combined with creative activity. And from the nature of the case this activity increased as time went on. Elucidations grew into text. The single saying was multiplied with the multiplication of its uses, or the words were referred to a definite case and correspondingly modified. Finally, words were inserted into the text of Jesus’ sayings, especially in the form of instances of narrative, which were only meant to make His utterances more distinct.”1 This may seem to open a door to licence, but second thoughts tend to allay our fears. The aim itself supplied a check to undue freedom. Just because disciples desired to follow the Master and make His words their law, they would wish to be sure that the reported sayings gave them the thoughts of Jesus at least, if not His ipsissima verba. Then there is reason to believe that the process of fixing the tradition was substantially completed when the memory of Jesus was recent, and the men who had been with Him were at hand to guide and control the process. Weizsäcker remarks that very little of the nature of accretion originated elsewhere than in the primitive church, and that the great mass of the evangelic tradition was formed under the influence of the living tradition.2 That is to say, the freedom of the apostolic age was controlled by knowledge and reverence. It was known what the Master had taught, and great respect was cherished for His authority. If there was no superstitious concern as to literal accuracy, there was a loyal solicitude that the meaning conveyed by words should be true to the mind of Christ.

11. The incidents of the Healing Ministry, which form the bulk of the narrative of events, are complicated with the question of miracle. Those for whom it is an axiom that a miracle is impossible are tempted to pronounce on that ministry the summary and sweeping verdict, unhistorical. This is not a scientific procedure. The question of fact should be dealt with separately on its own grounds, and the question of explicability taken up only in the second place. There are good reasons for believing that the healing ministry, miraculous or not miraculous, was a great fact in the public career of Jesus. Healing is associated with teaching in all general notices of our Lord’s work. Nine acts of healing, some of them very remarkable, are reported in all the synoptical Gospels. The healing element in the ministry is so interwoven with the didactic that the former cannot be eliminated without destroying the whole story. This is frankly acknowledged by Harnack, who, if he does not doubt the reality of miracles, attaches very little apologetic value to them.3 The occasional notices in the Gospels of contemporary opinions, impressions, and theories regarding Christ’s actions speak to something extraordinary over and above the preaching and teaching. Mark’s graphic report of the impression produced by Christ’s first appearance in the synagogue of Capernaum may be cited as an instance. “What is this? A new teaching!—with authority He commandeth even the unclean spirits, and they obey Him.”1 This is a veritable reminiscence, and it points to a double surprise created by an original style of preaching, and by an unprecedented power. Still more significant are the theories invented to explain away the power. The Pharisees accounted for it, as displayed in the cure of demoniacs, by the suggestion of an alliance with Beelzebub. Herod said: “It is John whom I beheaded risen from the dead and exercising the power of the spirit world”. The one theory was malevolent, the other absurd, but the point to be noticed is the existence of the theories. Men do not theorise about nothing. There were remarkable facts urgently demanding explanation of some sort.

The healing acts of Jesus then, speaking broadly, were to begin with facts. How they are to be explained, and what they imply as to the Person of the Healer, are questions for science and theology. It is not scientific to neglect the phenomena as unworthy of notice. As little is it scientific to make the solution easy by under-statement of the facts to be explained, as, e.g., by viewing demoniacal possession as an imaginary disease. Demoniacal possession might be an imaginary explanation of certain classes of diseases, but the diseases themselves were serious enough, as serious as madness and epilepsy, which appear to have formed the physical basis of the malady.

Finally, it is not to be supposed that these healing acts, though indubitable facts, have no permanent religious value. Their use in the evidences of Christianity may belong to an antiquated type of apologetic, but in other respects their significance is perennial. Whether miraculous or not, they equally reveal the wide-hearted benevolence of Jesus. They throw a side light on His doctrine of God and of man, and especially on His conception of the ideal of life. The healing ministry was a tacit but effective protest against asceticism and the dualism on which it rests, and a proof that Jesus had no sympathy with the hard antithesis between spirit and flesh.

12. Before leaving the topic of historicity, it may be well here to refer to a line of evidence which, though not worked out, has been suggestively sketched by Professor Sanday in his Bampton Lectures on Inspiration. The thesis to be proved is “that the great mass of the narrative in the first three Gospels took its shape before the destruction of Jerusalem, i.e., within less than forty years of the events”.1 “Was there ever,” asks Dr. Sanday, “an easier problem for a critic to decide whether the sayings and narratives which lie before him came from the one side of this chasm or the other?” Among the instances he cites are such as these: “If, therefore, thou art offering thy gift at the altar, and then rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee,” etc. “Woe unto you, ye blind guides, which say, whosoever shall swear by the temple, it is nothing,’ etc. “See thou tell no man, but go thy way, show thyself to the priest,” etc. That is to say, the altar, the temple, the priesthood are still in existence. This is not decisive as to the date of our Gospels, but it is decisive as to much of the material contained in them having assumed fixed shape, either in oral or in written form, before the great crisis of Israel.

13. Historicity, be it finally noted, is not to be confounded with absolute accuracy, or perfect agreement between parallel accounts. Harmonistic is a thing of the past. It was a well-meant discipline, but it took in hand an insoluble problem, and it unduly magnified the importance of a solution, even if it had been possible. Questions as to occasions on which reported words and acts of Jesus were spoken or done, as to the connections between sayings grouped together in one Gospel, dispersed in the pages of another, as to the diverse forms of sayings in parallel reports, are for us now secondary. The broad question we ask as to the words of Jesus is: have we here, in the main, words actually spoken by Jesus, once or twice, now or then, in this connection or in that, in separate aphorisms or in connected discourse, in the form reported by this or that evangelist, or in a form not exactly reproduced by any of them, yet conveying a sense sufficiently reflected in all the versions? Is the Lord’s prayer the Lord’s at whatever time given to His disciples? Is the “Sermon on the Mount” made up of real utterances of Jesus, whether all spoken at one time, as Matthew’s report seems to imply, or on various occasions, as we should infer from Luke’s narrative? Did Jesus actually say: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners,” whether with the addition, “to repentance,” as it stands in Luke, or without, as in the genuine text of the same Logion in Matthew and Mark? Did He speak the parable of the lost sheep—whether in Matthew’s form or in Luke’s, or in a form differing verbally from both—to disciples, to Pharisees, or perhaps to neither, but to publicans, yet conveying in some form and to some audience the great thought that there was a passion in His heart and in the heart of God for saving lost men? It is greatly to be desired that devout readers of the Gospels should be emancipated from legal bondage to the theological figment of inerrancy. Till this is done, it is impossible to enjoy in full the Gospel story, or feel its essential truth and reality.

1 Vide Von Soden’s essay in the Theologische Abhandlungen, Carl von Weizsäcker Gewidmet, 1892.

1 2 Corinthians 5:16.

1 Von Soden, in the essay above referred to, takes no notice of Luke’s preface.

1 Einleitung in das Neue Testament, p. 231.

1 Vide his work Les Évangiles, p. 66.

1 vide Hand-Commentar, pp. 13–17.

2 Die Evangelische Geschichte und der Ursprung des Christenthums, 1893.

1 The Apostolic Age, vol. ii., p. 62.

2 Ibid.

3 History of Dogma, vol. i., p. 65, note 3.

1 Mark 1:27.

1 Page 283.

W. Robertson Nicoll, The Expositor’s Greek Testament: Commentary, vol. 1 (New York: George H. Doran Company, n.d.), i. 

Alexander Balmain Bruce, The Synoptic Gospels (New York: George H. Doran Company, n.d.), 13–26.

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