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A CRITICAL AND EXEGETICAL COMMENTARY
ON
THE EPISTLE TO THE HEBREWS
BY
JAMES MOFFAT
D.D., D. Litt., Hon. M.A.(Oxon)
EDINBURGH
T & T. CLARK LIMITED, 59 GEORGE STREET
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of T. & T. Clark Ltd.
TO THE MEMORY OF
THREE SCOTTISH EXPOSITORS OF ΠΟ ΕΡΙΥ:
A. B. BRUCE,
A. B. DAVIDSON,
AND
MARCUS DODS
PREFACE
————
It is ten years since this edition was first drafted. Various interruptions, of war and peace, have prevented me from finishing it till now, and I am bound to acknowledge the courtesy and patience of the editor and the publishers. During the ten years a number of valuable contributions to the subject have appeared. Of these as well as of their predecessors I have endeavoured to take account; if I have not referred to them often, this has been due to no lack of appreciation, but simply because, in order to be concise and readable, I have found it necessary to abstain from offering any catena of opinions in this edition. The one justification for issuing another edition of ΠὸῈβαοςseemed to me to lie in a fresh point of view, expounded in the notes—fresh, that is, in an English edition. I am more convinced than ever that the criticism of this writing cannot hope to make any positive advance except from two negative conclusions. One is, that the identity of the author and of his readers must be left in the mist where they already lay at the beginning of the second century when the guess-work, which is honoured as “tradition,” began. The other is, that the situation which called forth this remarkable piece of primitive Christian thought had nothing to do with any movement in contemporary Judaism. The writer of Πὸ Ἐρίυ knew no Hebrew, and his readers were in no sense Ἐρῖι These may sound paradoxes. I agree with those who think they are axioms. At any rate such is the point of view from which the present edition has been written; it will explain why, for example, in the Introduction there is so comparatively small space devoted to the stock questions about authorship and date.
One special reason for the delay in issuing the book has been the need of working through the materials supplied for the criticism of the text by von Soden’s Schriften des Neuen Testaments (1913) and by some subsequent discoveries, and also the need of making a first-hand study of the Wisdom literature of Hellenistic Judaism as well as of Philo. Further, I did not feel justified in annotating Πὸ Ἐρίυ without reading through the scattered ethical and philosophical tracts and treatises of the general period, like the De Mundo and the remains of Teles and Musonius Rufus.
“A commentary,” as Dr. Johnson observed, “must arise from the fortuitous discoveries of many men in devious walks of literature.” No one can leave the criticism of a work like Πὸ Ἐρίυ after twelve years spent upon it, without feeling deeply indebted to such writers as Chrysostom, Calvin, Bleek, Riehm, and Riggenbach, who have directly handled it. But I owe much to some eighteenth-century writings, like L.C. Valckenaer’s Scholia and G. D. Kypke’s Observationes Sacrae, as well as to other scholars who have lit up special points of interpretation indirectly. Where the critical data had been already gathered in fairly complete form, I have tried to exercise an independent judgment; also I hope some fresh ground has been broken here and there in ascertaining and illustrating the text of this early Christian masterpiece.
JAMES MOFFATT.
Glasgow, 15th February 1924.
Philo Philonis Alexandriai Opera Quae Supersunt (recognoverunt L. Cohn et P. Wendland).
INTRODUCTION
————
§1. Origin and Aim
(i)
During the last quarter of the first century AD a little masterpiece of religious thought began to circulate among some of the Christian communities. The earliest trace of it appears towards the end of the century, in a pastoral letter sent by the church of Rome to the church of Corinth. The authorship of this letter is traditionally assigned to a certain Clement, who probably composed it about the last decade of the century. Evidently he knew Πὸ Ἐρίυ (as we may, for the sake of convenience, call our writing); there are several almost verbal reminiscences (cp. Dr. A. J. Carlyle in The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, pp. 44 f., where the evidence is sifted). This is beyond dispute, and proves that our writing was known at Rome during the last quarter of the first century. A fair specimen of the indebtedness of Clement to our epistle may be seen in a passage like the following, where I have underlined the allusions:
36:2-5 ὃ ὢ ἀαγσατςμγλσνςατῦ τσύῳμίω
ἐτνἀγλν ὃῳδαοώεο ὄοα
κκηοόηε·γγατιγροτς
ὁπιντὺ ἀγλυ ατῦπεμτ
κὶτὺ λιοροςατῦπρςφόα
ἐὶδ τ υῷατῦοτςεπνὁδσόη·
υό μυε σ,
ἐὼσμρνγγνηάσ·
ατσιπρ ἐο, κὶδσ σιἔν τνκηοοίν
συκὶτνκτσεί συτ πρτ τςγς
κὶπλνλγιπὸ ατν
κθυἐ δξῶ μυ
ἕςἂ θ τὺ ἐθοςσυὑοόιντνπδνσυ
τνςονο ἐθο ; ο φῦο κὶἀττσόεο τ
θλμτ ατῦ
To this we may add a sentence from what precedes:
36:1 Ἰσῦ Χιτντνἀχεέ τνποφρνἡῶ, τνποττνκὶβηὸ τςἀθνίςἡῶ. 2:18 δντιτῖ πιαοέοςβηῆα …3:1 κτνήαετνἀότλνκὶἀχεέ τςὁοοίςἡῶ Ἰσῦ.
The same phrase occurs twice in later doxologies, δὰτῦἀχεέςκὶποττυ(τνψχνἡῶ, 61:3) (ἡῶ, 64:1) ἸσῦΧιτῦ There is no convincing proof that Ignatius or Polykarp used Πὸ Ἐρίυ, but the so-called Epistle of Barnabas contains some traces of it (e.g. in 4:9f. 5:5, 6 and 6:17-19). Barnabas is a second-rate interpretation of the OT ceremonial system, partly on allegorical lines, to warn Christians against having anything to do with Judaism; its motto might be taken from 3:6 ἵάμ πορσώεαὡ ποήυο (v.l. ἐήυο) τ ἐενννμ. In the homily called 2 Clement our writing is freely employed, e.g. in
11:6 ὤτ, ἀεφίμυ μ δψχμν ἀλ ἐπσνε ὑοενμν ἵακὶὸ μσὸ κμσμθ. πσὸ γρἐτνὁἐαγιάεο τςἀτμσίςἀοιόα ἑάτ ἔγνατῦ 10:23 κτχμντνὁοοίντςἐπδςἀλν, πσὸ γρὁἐαγιάεο.
1:6 ἀοέεο ἐεν ὄπρκίεανφςτ ατῦθλσι 12:1 τσῦο ἔοτςπρκίεο ἡῖ νφςμρύω, ὄκνἀοέεο πνα
16:4 ποεχ δ ἐ κλςσνιήες 13:18 ποεχσεπρ ἡῶ·πιὁεαγρὅικλνσνίηι ἔοε.
“It seems difficult, in view of the verbal coincidences, to resist the conclustion that the language of 2 Clement is unconsciously influenced by that of Hebrews” (Dr. A. J. Carlyle in The New Testament in the Apostolic Fathers, p. 126). As 2 Clement is, in all likelihood, a product either of the Roman or of the Alexandrian church, where Πὸ Ἑρίυ was early appreciated, this becomes doubly probable.
There is no reason why Justin Martyr, who had lived at Rome, should not have known it; but the evidence for his use of it (see on 3:1, 11:4 etc.) is barely beyond dispute. Hermas, however, knew it; the Shepherd shows repeated traces of it (cf. Zahn’s edition, pp. 439 f.). It was read in the North African church, as Tertullian’s allusion proves (see p. xvii), and with particular interest in the Alexandrian church, even before Clement wrote (cp. p. xviii). Clement’s use of it is unmistakable, though he does not show any sympathy with its ideas about sacrifice.1 Naturally a thinker like Marcion ignored it, though why it shared with First Peter the fate of exclusion from the Muratorian canon is inexplicable. However, the evidence of the second century upon the whole is sufficient to show that it was being widely circulated and appreciated as an edifying religious treatise, canonical or not.
(ii)
By this time it had received the title of Πὸ Ἑρίυ. Whatever doubts there were about the authorship, the writing never went under any title except this in the later church; which proves that, though not original, the title must be early. Ἑρῖι was intended to mean Jewish Christians. Those who affixed this title had no idea of its original destination; otherwise they would have chosen a local term, for the writing is obviously intended for a special community. They were struck by the interest of the writing in the OT sacrifices and priests, however, and imagined in a superficial way that it must have been addressed to Jewish Christians. Ἑρῖιwas still an archaic equivalent for Ἰυαο; and those who called our writing Πὸ Ἑρίυ must have imagined that it had been originally meant for Jewish (i.e. Hebrew-speaking) Christians in Palestine, or, in a broader sense, for Christians who had been born in Judaism. The latter is more probable. Where the title originated we cannot say; the corresponding description of 1 Peter as ad gentes originated in the Western church, but Πὸ Ἑρίυ is common both to the Western and the Eastern churches. The very fact that so vague and misleading a title was added, proves that by the second century all traces of the original destination of the writing had been lost. It is, like the Ad Familiares of Cicero’s correspondence, one of the erroneous titles in ancient literature, “hardly more than a reflection of the impression produced on an early copyist” (W. Robertson Smith). The reason why the original destination had been lost sight of, was probably the fact that it was a small household church—not one of the great churches, but a more limited circle, which may have become merged in the larger local church as time went on. Had it been sent, for example, to any large church like that at Rome or Alexandria, there would have been neither the need nor the opportunity for changing the title to Πὸ Ἑρίυ. Our writing is not a manifesto to Jewish Christians in general, or to Palestinian Jewish Christians, as πὸ Ἑρίυ would imply; indeed it is not addressed to Jewish Christians at all. Whoever were its original readers, they belonged to a definite, local group or circle. That is the first inference from the writing itself; the second is, that they were not specifically Jewish Christians. The canonical title has had an unfortunate influence upon the interpretation of the writing (an influence which is still felt in some quarters). It has been responsible for the idea, expressed in a variety of forms, that the writer is addressing Jewish Christians in Palestine or elsewhere who were tempted, e.g., by the war of a.d. 66-70, to fall back into Judaism; and even those who cannot share this view sometimes regard the readers as swayed by some hereditary associations with their old faith, tempted by the fascinations of a ritual, outward system of religion, to give up the spiritual messianism of the church. All such interpretations are beside the point. The writter never mentions Jews or Christians. He views his readers without any distinction of this kind; to him they are in danger of relapsing, but there is not a suggestion that the relapse is into Judaism, or that he is trying to wean them from a preoccupation with Jewish religion. He never refers to the temple, any more than to circumcision. It is the tabernacle of the pentateuch which interests him, and all his knowledge of the Jewish ritual is gained from the LXX and later tradition. The LXX is for him and his readers the codex of their religion, the appeal to which was cogent, for Gentile Christians, in the early church. As Christians, his readers accepted the LXX as their bible. It was superfluous to argue for it; he could argue from it, as Paul had done, as a writer like Clement of Rome did afterwards. How much the LXX meant to Gentile Christians, may be seen in the case of a man like Tatian, for example, who explicitly declares that he owed to reading of the OT his conversion to Christianity (Ad Graecos, 29). It is true that our author, in arguing that Christ had to suffer, does not appeal to the LXX. But this is an idiosyncrasy, which does not affect the vital significance of the LXX prophecies. The Christians to whom he was writing had learned to appreciate their LXX as an authority, by their membership in the church. Their danger was not an undervaluing of the LXX as authoritative; it was a moral and mental danger, which the writer seeks to meet by showing how great their religion was intrinsically. This he could only do ultimately by assuming that they admitted the appeal to their bible, just as they admitted the divine Sonship of Jesus. There may have been Christians of Jewish birth among his readers; but he addresses his circle, irrespective of their origin, as all members of the People of God, who accept the Book of God. The writing, in short, might have been called ad gentes as aptly as First Peter, which also describes Gentile Christians as ὁλό, the People (cp. on 2:17). The readers were not in doubt of their religion. Its basis was unquestioned. What the trouble was, in their case, was no theoretical doubt about the codex or the contents of Christianity, but a practical failure to be loyal to their principles, which the writer seeks to meet by recalling them to the full meaning and responsibility of their faith; naturally he takes them to the common ground of the sacred LXX.
We touch here the question of the writer’s aim. But, before discussing this, a word must be said about the authorship.
Had Πὸ Ἑρίυ been addressed to Jews, the title would have been intelligible. Not only was there a [σν]γγ Ἑραω] at Corinth (cp. Deissmann’s Light from the East, pp. 13, 14), but a σνγγ Αβένat Rome (cp. Schü’s Geschichte des Jü Volkes3, iii. 46). Among the Jewish σνγγίmentioned in the Roman epitaphs (cp. N. Mü’s Die jü Katakombe am Monteverde zu Rom … Leipzig, 1912, pp. 110f.), there is one of Ἑρο, which Mü explains as in contrast to the synagogue of “vernaclorum” (Βράλι βραλσο), i.e. resident Jews as opposed to immigrants; though it seems truer, with E. Bormann (Wiener Studien, 1912, pp. 383 f.), to think of some Kultgemeinde which adhered to the use of Hebrew, or which, at any rate, was of Palestinian origin or connexion.
(iii)
The knowledge of who the author was must have disappeared as soon as the knowledge of what the church was, for whom he wrote. Who wrote Πὸ Ἑρίυ? We know as little of this as we do of the authorship of The Whole Duty of Man, that seventeenth-century classic of English piety. Conjectures sprang up, early in the second century, but by that time men were no wiser than we are. The mere fact that some said Barnabas, some Paul, proves that the writing had been circulating among the adespota. It was perhaps natural that our writing should be assigned to Barnabas, who, as a Levite, might be supposed to take a special interest in the ritual of the temple—the very reason which led to his association with the later Epistle of Barnabas. Also, he was called υὸ πρκήες(Act_4:36), which seemed to tally with Heb_13:22 (τῦλγυτςπρκήες just as the allusion to “beloved” in Psa_127:2 ( = 2 S 12:24f.) was made to justify the attribution of the psalm to king Solomon. The difficulty about applying 2:8 to a man like Barnabas was overlooked, and in North Africa, at any rate, the (Roman?) tradition of his authorship prevailed, as Tertullian’s words in de pudicitia 20 show: “volo ex redundantia alicuius etiam comitis apostolorum testimonium superinducere, idoneum confirmandi de proximo jure disciplinam magistrorum. Extat enim et Barnabae titulus ad Hebraeos, adeo satis auctoritati viri, ut quem Paulus juxta se constituerit in abstinentiae tenore: ‘aut ego solus et Barnabas non habemus hoc operandi potestatem?’ (1Co_9:6). Et utique receptior apud ecclesias epistola Barnabae illo apocrypho Pastore moechorum. Monens itaque discipulos, omissis omnibus initiis, ad perfectionem magis tendere,” etc. (quoting Heb_6:4f.). What appeals to Tertullian in Πὸ Ἑρίυ is its uncompromising denial of any second repentance. His increasing sympathy with the Montanists had led him to take a much less favourable view of the Shepherd of Hermas than he had once entertained; he now contrasts its lax tone with the rigour of Πὸ Ἑρίυ, and seeks to buttress his argument on this point by insisting as much as he can on the authority of Πὸ Ἑρίυ as a production of the apostolic Barnabas. Where this tradition originated we cannot tell. Tertullian refers to it as a fact, not as an oral tradition; he may have known some MS of the writing with the title Βράαπὸ Ἑρίυ (ἐιτλ), and this may have come from Montanist circles in Asia Minor, as Zahn suggests. But all this is guessing in the dark about a guess in the dark.
Since Paul was the most considerable letter-writer of the primitive church, it was natural that in some quarters this anonymous writing should be assigned to him, as was done apparently in the Alexandrian church, although even there scholarly readers felt qualms at an early period, and endeavoured to explain the idiosyncrasies of style by supposing that some disciple of Paul, like Luke, translated it from Hebrew into Greek. This Alexandrian tradition of Paul’s authorship was evidently criticized in other quarters, and the controversy drew from Origen the one piece of enlightened literary criticism which the early discussions produced. Ὅιὁχρκὴ τςλξω τςπὸ Ἑρίυ ἐιερμέη ἐιτλςοκἔε τ ἐ λγ ἰιτκντῦἀοτλυ ὁοοήατςἑυὸ ἰιτνενιτ λγ (2Co_11:6), τυέτ τ φάε, ἀλ ἐτνἡἐιτλ σνέε τςλξω Ἑλνκτρ, πςὁἐιτμνςκίενφάενδαοὰ ὁοοήα ἄ. πλντ α ὅιτ νήαατςἐιτλςθυάι ἐτ, κὶο δύεατνἀοτλκνὁοοομννγαμτν κὶτῦοἂ σμήα ενιἀηὲ πςὁποέω τ ἀανσιτ ἀοτλκ…Ἐὼδ ἀοανμνςεπιʼἂ ὅιτ μννήαατῦἀοτλυἐτν ἡδ φάι κὶἡσνει ἀονμνύατςτνςτ ἀοτλκ, κὶὡπρὶσοιγαήατςτνςτ ερμν ὑὸτῦδδσάο. ε τςονἐκηί ἔε τύη τνἐιτλνὡ Πύο, ατ εδκμίωκὶἐὶτύῳ ο γρεκ ο ἀχῖιἄδε ὡ Πύο ατνπρδδκσ. τςδ ὁγάα τνἐιτλν τ μνἀηὲ θὸ οδν(quoted by Eusebius, H.E. vi. 25. 11-14).1. Origen is too good a scholar to notice the guess that it was a translation from Hebrew, but he adds, ἡδ εςἡᾶ φάααἱτρα ὑότννμνλγνω, ὅιΚήη ὁγνμνςἐίκπςῬμίνἔρψ τνἐιτλν ὑότννδ ὅιΛυᾶ ὁγάα τ εαγλο κὶτςΠάες The idea that Clement of Rome wrote it was, of course, an erroneous deduction from the echoes of it in his pages, almost as unfounded as the notion that Luke wrote it, either independently or as an amanuensis of Paul—a view probably due ultimately to the explanation of how his gospel came to be an apostolic, canonical work. Origen yields more to the “Pauline” interpretation of Πὸ Ἑρίυ than is legitimate; but, like Erasmus at a later day,2 he was living in an environment where the “Pauline” tradition was almost a note of orthodoxy. Even his slight scruples failed to keep the question open. In the Eastern church, any hesitation soon passed away, and the scholarly scruples of men like Clement of Alexandria and Origen made no impression on the church at large. It is significant, for example, that when even Eusebius comes to give his own opinion (H.E. iii. 38. 2), he alters the hypothesis about Clement of Rome, and makes him merely the translator of a Pauline Hebrew original, not the author of a Greek original. As a rule, however, Πὸ Ἑρίυ was accepted as fully Pauline, and passed into the NT canon of the Asiatic, the Egyptian, and the Syriac churches without question. In the Syriac canon of a.d. 400 (text as in Souter’s Text and Canon of NT, p. 226), indeed, it stands next to Romans in the list of Paul’s epistles (see below, §4). Euthalius, it is true, about the middle of the fifth century, argues for it in a way that indicates a current of opposition still flowing in certain quarters, but ecclesiastically Πὸ Ἑρίυ in the East as a Pauline document could defy doubts. The firm conviction of the Eastern church as a whole comes out in a remark like that of Apollinarius the bishop of Laodicea, towards the close of the fourth century: πῦγγατιὅιχρκή ἐτ τςὑοτσω ὁυό ; πρ τ ἀοτλ Πύῳἐ τ πὸ Ἑρίυ. Οκἐκηιζτι Ἀʼο κτγέητ εαγλο Χιτῦ Πύο ενιππσετιἡἐιτλ (Dial. de sancta Trin. 922).
It was otherwise in the Western church, where Πὸ Ἐρίυ was for long either read simply as an edifying treatise, or, if regarded as canonical, assigned to some anonymous apostolic writer rather than to Paul. Possibly the use made of Πὸ Ἐρίυ by the Montanists and the Novatians, who welcomed its denial of a second repentance, compromised it in certain quarters. Besides, the Roman church had never accepted the Alexandrian tradition of Paul’s authorship. Hence, even when, on its merits, it was admitted to the canon, there was a strong tendency to treat it as anonymous, as may be seen, for example, in Augustine’s references. Once in the canon, however, it gradually acquired a Pauline prestige, and, as Greek scholarship faded, any scruples to the contrary became less and less intelligible. It was not till the study of Greek revived again, at the dawn of the Reformation, that the question was reopened.
The data in connexion with the early fortunes of ΠὸἙρίυ in church history belong to text-books on the Canon, like Zahn’s Geschichte d. NT Kanons, i. 283 f., 577 f., ii. 160 f., 358 f.; Leipoldt’s Geschichte d. NT Kanons, i. pp. 188 f., 219 f.; and Jacquier’s Le Nouveau Testament dans L’É chré i. (1911).
Few characters mentioned in the NT have escaped the attention of those who have desired in later days to identify the author of Πὸ Ἑρίυ. Apollos, Peter, Philip, Silvanus, and even Prisca have been suggested, besides Aristion, the alleged author of Mar_16:9-20. I have summarized these views elsewhere (Introd. to Lit. of NT.3, pp. 438-442), and it is superfluous here to discuss hypotheses which are in the main due to an irrepressible desire to construct NT romances. Perhaps our modern pride resents being baffled by an ancient document, but it is better to admit that we are not yet wiser on this matter than Origen was, seventeen centuries ago. The author of Πὸ Ἑρίυ cannot be identified with any figure known to us in the primitive Christian tradition. He left great prose to some little clan of early Christians, but who they were and who he was, τ μνἀηὲ θὸ οδν To us he is a voice and no more. The theory which alone explains the conflicting traditions is that for a time the writing was circulated as an anonymous tract. Only on this hypothesis can the simultaneous emergence of the Barnabas and the Paul traditions in different quarters be explained, as well as the persistent tradition in the Roman church that it was anonymous. As Zahn sensibly concludes, “those into whose hands Πὸ Ἑρίυ came either looked upon it as an anonymous writing from ancient apostolic times, or else resorted to conjecture. If Paul did not write it, they thought, then it must have been composed by some other prominent teacher of the apostolic church. Barnabas was such a man.” In one sense, it was fortunate that the Pauline hypothesis prevailed so early and so extensively, for apart from this help it might have been difficult for Πὸ Ἑρίυ to win or to retain its place in the canon. But even when it had been lodged securely inside the canon, some Western churchmen still clung for a while to the old tradition of its anonymity,1 although they could do no more than hold this as a pious opinion. The later church was right in assigning Πὸ Ἑρίυ a canonical position. The original reasons might be erroneous or doubtful, but even in the Western church, where they continued to be questioned, there was an increasing indisposition to challenge their canonical result.
(iv)
Thrown back, in the absence of any reliable tradition, upon the internal evidence, we can only conclude that the writer was one of those personalities in whom the primitive church was more rich than we sometimes realize. “Si l’on a pu comparer saint Paul àLuther,” says Méé “nous comparerions volontiers l’auteur de l’Éî aux Hé àMé” He was a highly trained δδσαο, perhaps a Jewish Christian, who had imbibed the philosophy of Alexandrian Judaism before his conversion, a man of literary culture and deep religious feeling. He writes to what is apparently a small community or circle of Christians, possibly one of the household-churches, to which he was attached. For some reason or another he was absent from them, and, although he hopes to rejoin them before long, he feels moved to send them this letter (13:23f.) to rally them. It is possible to infer from 13:24 (see note) that they belonged to Italy; in any case, Πὸ Ἑρίυ was written either to or from some church in Italy. Beyond the fact that the writer and his readers had been evangelized by some of the disciples of Jesus (2:3, 4), we know nothing more about them. The words in 2:3, 4 do not mean that they belonged to the second generation, of course, in a chronological sense, for such words would have applied to the converts of any mission during the first thirty years or so after the crucifixion, and the only other inference to be drawn, as to the date, is from passages like 10:32f. and 13:7, viz. that the first readers of Πὸ Ἑρίυ were not neophytes; they had lived through some rough experiences, and indeed their friend expects from them a maturity of experience and intelligence which he is disappointed to miss (5:11f.); also, their original leaders have died, probably as martyrs (cp. on 13:7). For these and other reasons, a certain sense of disillusionment had begun to creep over them. Πὸ Ἑρίυ is a λγςπρκήες to steady and rally people who are πιαόεο, their temptation being to renounce God, or at least to hesitate and retreat, to relax the fibre of loyal faith, as if God were too difficult to follow in the new, hard situation. Once, at the outset of their Christian career, they had been exposed to mobrioting (10:32f.), when they had suffered losses of property, for the sake of the gospel, and also the loud jeers and sneers which pagans and Jews alike heaped sometimes upon the disciples. This they had borne manfully, in the first glow of their enthusiasm. Now, the more violent forms of persecution had apparently passed; what was left was the dragging experience of contempt at the hand of outsiders, the social ostracism and shame, which were threatening to take the heart out of them. Such was their rough, disconcerting environment. Unless an illegitimate amount of imagination is applied to the internal data, they cannot be identified with what is known of any community in the primitive church, so scanty is our information. Least of all is it feasible to connect them with the supposed effects of the Jewish rebellion which culminated in a.d. 70. Πὸ Ἑρίυ cannot be later than about a.d. 85, as the use of it in Clement of Rome’s epistle proves; how much earlier it is, we cannot say, but the controversy over the Law, which marked the Pauline phase, is evidently over.
It is perhaps not yet quite superfluous to point out that the use of the present tense (e.g. in 7:8, 20, 8:8f., 9:6f., 13:10) is no clue to the date, as though this implied that the Jewish temple was still standing. The writer is simply using the historic present of actions described in scripture. It is a literary method which is common in writings long after a.d. 70, e.g. in Josephus, who observes (c. Apion, i. 7) that any priest who violates a Mosaic regulation ἀηόετιμτ τῖ βμῖ πρσαθιμτ μτχι τςἄλςἁιτίς(so Ant. iii. 6. 7-12, xiv. 2. 2, etc.). Clement of Rome similarly writes as though the Mosaic ritual were still in existence (40-41, τ γρἀχεε ἴιιλιορίιδδμνιεσν…κὶΛυτι ἴιιδαοίιἐίενα …ποφρνα θσα ἐ Ἱρυαὴ μν), and the author of the Ep. ad Diognet. 3 writes that ο δ γ θσαςατ δ αμτςκὶκίη κὶὸοατμτνἐιεενοόεο κὶτύαςτῖ τμῖ ατνγρίεν οδνμιδκῦιδαέεντνεςτ κφ τνατνἐδινμννφλτμα. The idea that the situation of the readers was in any way connected with the crisis of a.d. 66-70 in Palestine is unfounded. Πὸ Ἑρίυ has nothing to do with the Jewish temple, nor with Palestinian Christians. There is not a syllable in the writing which suggests that either the author or his readers had any connexion with or interest in the contemporary temple and ritual of Judaism; their existence mattered as little to his idealist method of argument as their abolition. When he observes (8:13) that the old δαήηwas ἐγςἀαιμῦ all he means is that the old ré superseded now by Jesus, was decaying even in Jeremiah’s age.
(v)
The object of Πὸ Ἑρίυ may be seen from a brief analysis of its contents. The writer opens with a stately paragraph, introducing the argument that Jesus Christ as the Son of God is superior (κετω) to angels, in the order of revelation (1:1-2:18), and this, not in spite of but because of his incarnation and sufferings. He is also superior (κετω) even to Moses (3:1-6a), as a Son is superior to a servant. Instead of pursuing the argument further, the writer then gives an impressive bible reading on the 95th psalm, to prove that the People of God have still assured to them, if they will only have faith, the divine Rest in the world to come (3:6b-4:13). Resuming his argument, the writer now begins to show how Jesus as God’s Son is superior to the Aaronic high priest (4:14-5:10). This is the heart of his subject, and he stops for a moment to rouse the attention of his readers (5:11-6:20) before entering upon the high theme. By a series of skilful transitions he has passed on from the Person of the Son, which is uppermost in chs. 1-4, to the Priesthood of the Son, which dominates chs. 7-8. Jesus as High Priest mediates a superior (κετω) order of religion or δαήηthan that under which Aaron and his successors did their work for the People of God, and access to God, which is the supreme need of men, is now secured fully and finally by the relation of Jesus to God, in virtue of his sacrifice (6:20-8:13). The validity of this sacrifice is then proved (9:1-10:18); it is absolutely efficacious, as no earlier sacrifice of victims could be, in securing forgiveness and fellowship for man. The remainder of the writing (10:19-13:24) is a series of impressive appeals for constancy. The first (10:19-31) is a skilful blend of encouragement and warning. He then appeals to the fine record of his readers (10:32f.), bidding them be worthy of their own past, and inciting them to faith in God by reciting a great roll-call of heroes and heroines belonging to God’s People in the past, from Abel to the Maccabean martyrs (11:1-40). He further kindles their imagination and conscience by holding up Jesus as the Supreme Leader of all the faithful (12:1-8), even along the path of suffering; besides, he adds (12:4-11), suffering is God’s discipline for those who belong to his household. To prefer the world (12:12-17) is to incur a fearful penalty; the one duty for us is to accept the position of fellowship with God, in a due spirit of awe and grateful confidence (12:18-29). A brief note of some ethical duties follows (13:1-7), with a sudden warning against some current tendencies to compromise their spiritual religion (13:8-16). A postscript (13:17-24), with some personalia, ends the epistle.
It is artificial to divide up a writing of this kind, which is not a treatise on theology, and I have therefore deliberately abstained from introducing any formal divisions and subdivisions in the commentary. The flow of thought, with its turns and windings, is best followed from point to point. So far as the general plan goes, it is determined by the idea of the finality of the Christian revelation in Jesus the Son of God. This is brought out (A) by a proof that he is superior to angels (1:1-2:18) and Moses (3:1-6a), followed by the special exhortation of 3:6b-4:13. Thus far it is what may be termed the Personality of the Son which is discussed. Next (B) comes the Son as High Priest (4:14-7:28), including the parenthetical exhortation of 5:11-6:20. The (C) Sacrifice of this High Priest in his Sanctuary then (8:1-10:18) is discussed, each of the three arguments, which are vitally connected, laying stress from one side or another upon the absolute efficacy of the revelation. This is the dominant idea of the writing, and it explains the particular line which the writer strikes out. He takes a very serious view of the position of his friends and readers. They are disheartened and discouraged for various reasons, some of which are noted in the course of the epistle. There is the strain of hardship, the unpleasant experience of being scoffed at, and the ordinary temptations of immorality, which may bring them, if they are not careful, to the verge of actual apostasy. The writer appears to feel that the only way to save them from ruining themselves is to put before them the fearful and unsuspected consequences of their failure. Hence three times over the writer draws a moving picture of the fate which awaits apostates and renegades (6:4f, 10:26f., 12:15f.). But the special line of argument which he adopts in 5-10:18 must be connected somehow with the danger in which he felt his friends involved, and this is only to be explained if we assume that their relaxed interest in Christianity arose out of an imperfect conception of what Jesus meant for their faith. He offers no theoretical disquisition; it is to reinforce and deepen their conviction of the place of Jesus in religion, that he argues, pleads, and warns, dwelling on the privileges and responsibilities of the relationship in which Jesus had placed them. All the help they needed, all the hope they required, lay in the access to God mediated by Jesus, if they would only realize it.
This is what makes the writing of special interest. In the first place (a) the author is urged by a practical necessity to think out his faith, or rather to state the full content of his faith, for the benefit of his readers. Their need puts him on his mettle. “Une chose surtant,” says Anatole France, “donne le l’attrait àla pensé des hommes: c’est l’inquié Un esprit qui n’est point anxieux m’irrite ou m’ennuie.” In a sense all the NT writers are spurred by this anxiety, but the author of Πὸ Ἑρίυ pre-eminently. It is not anxiety about his personal faith, nor about the prospects of Christianity, but about the loyalty of those for whom he feels himself responsible; his very certainty of the absolute value of Christianity makes him anxious when he sees his friends ready to give it up, anxious on their behalf, and anxious to bring out as lucidly and persuasively as possible the full meaning of the revelation of God in Jesus. What he writes is not a theological treatise in cold blood, but a statement of the faith, alive with practical interest. The situation of his readers has stirred his own mind, and he bends all his powers of thought and emotion to rally them. There is a vital urgency behind what he writes for his circle. But (b), more than this, the form into which he throws his appeal answers to the situation of his readers. He feels that the word for them is the absolute worth of Jesus as the Son of God; it is to bring this out that he argues, in the middle part of his epistle, so elaborately and anxiously about the priesthood and sacrifice of Jesus. The idealistic conception of the two spheres, the real and eternal, and the phenomenal (which is the mere σι and ὑόεγα a πρβλ, an ἀττπνof the former), is applied to the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which inaugurates and realizes the eternal δαήηbetween God and man. In a series of contrasts, he brings out the superiority of this revelation to the OT δαήηwith its cultus. But not because the contemporary form of the latter had any attractions for his readers. It is with the archaic σηήdescribed in the OT that he deals, in order to elucidate the final value of Jesus and his sacrifice under the new δαήη which was indeed the real and eternal one. To readers like his friends, with an imperfect sense of all that was contained in their faith, he says, “Come back to your bible, and see how fully it suggests the positive value of Jesus.” Christians were finding Christ in the LXX, especially his sufferings in the prophetic scriptures, but our author falls back on the pentateuch and the psalter especially to illustrate the commanding position of Jesus as the Son of God in the eternal δαήη and the duties as well as the privileges of living under such a final revelation, where the purpose and the promises of God for his People are realized as they could not be under the OT δαήη Why the writer concentrates upon the priesthood and sacrifice of Jesus in this eternal order of things, is due in part to his general conception of religion (see pp. xliii f.). For him there could be no religion without a priest. But this idea is of direct service to his readers, as he believes. Hence the first mention of Jesus as ἀχεεςoccurs as a reason for loyalty and confidence (2:14f.). Nothing is more practical in religion than an idea, a relevant idea powerfully urged. When the writer concentrates for a while upon this cardinal idea of Jesus as ἀχεες therefore, it is because nothing can be more vital, he thinks, for his friends than to show them the claims and resources of their faith, disclosing the rich and real nature of God’s revelation to them in his Son. Access to God, confidence in God, pardon for sins of the past, and hope for the future—all this is bound up with the δαήηof Christ, and the writer reveals it between the lines of the LXX, to which as members of the People of God his friends naturally turned for instruction and revelation. This δαήη he argues, is far superior to the earlier one, as the Son of God is superior to angels and to Moses himself; nay more, it is superior in efficacy, as the real is superior to its shadowy outline, for the sacrifice which underlies any δαήηis fulfilled in Christ as it could not be under the levitical cultus. The function of Christ as high priest is to mediate the direct access of the People to God, and all this has been done so fully and finally that Christians have simply to avail themselves of its provisions for their faith and need.
What the writer feels called upon to deal with, therefore, is not any sense of disappointment in his readers that they had not an impressive ritual or an outward priesthood, nor any hankering after such in contemporary Judaism; it is a failure to see that Christianity is the absolute religion, a failure which is really responsible for the unsatisfactory and even the critical situation of the readers. To meet this need, the writer argues as well as exhorts. He seeks to show from the LXX how the Christian faith alone fulfils the conditions of real religion, and as he knows no other religion than the earlier phase in Israel, he takes common ground with his readers on the LXX record of the first δαήη in order to let them see even there the implications and anticipations of the higher.
But while the author never contemplates any fusion of Christianity with Jewish legalism, and while the argument betrays no trace of Jewish religion as a competing attraction for the readers, it might be argued that some speculative Judaism had affected the mind of the readers. No basis for this can be found in 13:9f. Yet if there were any proselytes among the readers, they may have felt the fascination of the Jewish system, as those did afterwards who are warned by Ignatius (ad Philad. 6, etc.), “Better listen to Christianity from a circumcised Christian than to Judaism from one uncircumcised.” “It is monstrous to talk of Jesus Christ and ἰυαζι” (ad Magnes. 10). This interpretation was put forward by Hä (Studien und Kritiken, 1891, pp. 589 f.), and it has been most ingeniously argued by Professor Purdy (Expositor8, xix. pp. 123-139), who thinks that the emphasis upon “Jesus” means that the readers were exposed to the seductions of a liberal Judaism which offered an escape from persecution and other difficulties by presenting a Christ who was spiritual, divorced from history; that this liberal, speculative Judaism came forward as “a more developed and perfected type of religion than Christianity”; and that, without being legalistic, it claimed to be a traditional, ritualistic faith, which was at once inward and ceremonial. The objection to such interpretations,1 however, is that they explain ignotum per ignotius. We know little or nothing of such liberal Judaism in the first century, any more than of a tendency on the part of Jewish Christians to abandon Christianity about a.d. 70 for their ancestral faith. Indeed any influence of Jewish propaganda, ritualistic or latitudinarian, must be regarded as secondary, at the most, in the situation of the readers as that is to be inferred from Πὸ Ἑρίυ itself. When we recognize the real method and aim of the writer, it becomes clear that he was dealing with a situation which did not require .any such influence to account for it. The form taken by his argument is determined by the conception, or rather the misconception, of the faith entertained by his friends; and this in turn is due not to any political or racial factors, but to social and mental causes, such as are sufficiently indicated in Πὸ Ἑρίυ itself. Had the danger been a relapse into Judaism of any kind, it would have implied a repudiation of Jesus Christ as messiah and divine—the very truth which the writer can assume! What he needs to do is not to defend this, but to develop it.
The writing, therefore, for all its elaborate structure, has a spontaneous aim. It is not a homily written at large, to which by some afterthought, on the part of the writer or of some editor, a few personalia have been appended in ch. 13. The argumentative sections bear directly and definitely upon the situation of the readers, whom the writer has in view throughout, even when he seems to be far from their situation. Which brings us to the problem of the literary structure of Πὸ Ἑρίυ.
(vi)
See especially W. Wrede’s monograph, Das literarische Rä d. Hebrä (1906), with the essays of E. Burggaller and R. Perdelwitz in Zeitschrift fü Neutest. Wissenschaft (1908, pp. 110 f.; 1910, pp. 59 f., 105 f.); V. Monod’s De titulo epistulae vulgo ad Hebraeos inscriptae (1910); C. C. Torrey’s article in the Journal of Biblical Literature (1911), pp. 137-156; J. W. Slot’s De letterkundige vorm v. d. Brief aan de Hebrä (1912), with J. Quentel’s essay in Revue Biblique (1912, pp. 50f.) and M. Jones paper in Expositor8, xii. 426 f.
The literary problem of Πὸ Ἑρίυ is raised by the absence of any address and the presence of personal matter in ch. 13. Why (a) has it no introductory greeting? And why (b) has it a postscript? As for the former point (a), there may have been, in the original, an introductory title. Πὸ Ἑρίυ opens with a great sentence (1:1f.), but Eph_1:8f. is just such another, and there is no reason why the one should not have followed a title-address any more than the other.1 It may have been lost by accident, in the tear and wear of the manuscript, for such accidents are not unknown in ancient literature. This is, at any rate, more probable than the idea that it was suppressed because the author (Barnabas, Apollos?) was not of sufficiently apostolic rank for the canon. Had this interest been operative, it would have been perfectly easy to alter a word or two in the address itself. Besides, Πὸ Ἑρίυ was circulating long before it was admitted to the canon, and it circulated even afterwards as non-canonical; yet not a trace of any address, Pauline or non-Pauline, has ever survived. Which, in turn, tells against the hypothesis that such ever existed—at least, against the theory that it was deleted when the writing was canonized. If the elision of the address ever took place, it must have been very early, and rather as the result of accident than deliberately. Yet there is no decisive reason why the writing should not have begun originally as it does in its present form. Nor does this imply (b) that the personal data in ch. 13 are irrelevant. Πὸ Ἑρίυ has a certain originality in form as well as in content; it is neither an epistle nor a homily, pure and simple. True, down to 12:29 (or 13:17) there is little or nothing that might not have been spoken by a preacher to his audience, and Valckenaer (on 4:3) is right, so far, in saying, “haec magnifica ad Hebraeos missa dissertatio oratio potius dicenda est quam epistola.” Yet the writer is not addressing an ideal public; he is not composing a treatise for Christendom at large. It is really unreal to explain away passages like 5:11f, 10:32f, 12:4f. and 13:1-9 as rhetorical abstractions.
Πὸ Ἑρίυ was the work of a δδσαο, who knew how to deliver a λγςπρκήες Parts of it probably represent what he had used in preaching already (e.g. 3:7). But, while it has sometimes the tone of sermon notes written out, it is not a sermon in the air. To strike out 13:19, 22-24 or 13:1-7, 16-19, 22f. (Torrey)1 does not reduce it from a letter or epistle to a sermon like 2 Clement. Thus, e.g., a phrase like 11:32 (see note) is as intelligible in a written work as in a spoken address. It is only by emptying passages like 5:11f. and 10:32f. of their full meaning that anyone can speak of the writer as composing a sermon at large or for an ideal public. Part of the force of 5:11f., e.g., is due to the fact that the writer is dealing with a real situation, pleading that in what he is going to say he is not writing simply to display his own talent or to please himself, but for the serious, urgent need of his readers. They do not deserve what he is going to give them. But he will give it! A thoroughly pastoral touch, which is lost by being turned into a rhetorical excuse for deploying some favourite ideas of his own. According to Wrede, the author wrote in 13:18, 19 on the basis of (Phm_1:22) 2Co_1:11, 2Co_1:12 to make it appear as though Paul was the author, and then added 13:23 on the basis of Php_2:19, Php_2:23, Php_2:24; but why he should mix up these reminiscences, which, according to Wrede, are contradictory, it is difficult to see. Had he wished to put a Pauline colour into the closing paragraphs, he would surely have done it in a lucid, coherent fashion, instead of leaving the supposed allusions to Paul’s Roman imprisonment so enigmatic. But, though Wrede thinks that the hypothesis of a pseudonymous conclusion is the only way of explaining the phenomena of ch. 13, he agrees that to excise it entirely is out of the question. Neither the style nor the contents justify such a radical theory,2 except on the untenable hypothesis that 1-12 is a pure treatise. The analogies of a doxology being followed by personal matter (e.g. 2Ti_4:18, 1P 4:11 etc.) tell against the idea that Πὸ Ἑρίυ must have ended with 13:21, and much less could it have ended with 13:17. To assume that the writer suddenly bethought him, at the end, of giving a Pauline appearance to what he had written, and that he therefore added 13:22f., is to credit him with too little ability. Had he wished to convey this impression, he would certainly have gone further and made changes in the earlier part. Nor is it likely that anyone added the closing verses in order to facilitate its entrance into the NT canon by bringing it into line with the other epistles. The canon was drawn up for worship, and if Πὸ Ἑρίυ was originally a discourse, it seems very unlikely that anyone would have gone out of his way, on this occasion, to add some enigmatic personal references. In short, while Πὸ Ἑρίν betrays here and there the interests and methods of an effective preacher, the epistolary form is not a piece of literary fiction; still less is it due (in ch. 13) to some later hand. It is hardly too much to say that the various theories about the retouching of the 13th chapter of Πὸ Ἑρίν are as valuable, from the standpoint of literary criticism, as Macaulay’s unhesitating belief that Dr. Johnson had revised and retouched Cecilia.
§2. The Religious Ideas
In addition to the text-books on NT theology, consult Riehm’s Lehrbegriff des Hebrä (1867), W. Milligan’s Ascension and Heavenly Priesthood of our Lord (1891), Méé’s La Thé de l’ Éî aux Hé (1894), A. Seeberg’s Der Tod Christi (1895), A. B. Bruce’s The Epistle to the Hebrews (1899), G. Milligan’s The Theology of the Epistle to the Hebrews (1899), G. Vos on “The Priesthood of Christ in Hebrews” (Princeton Theological Review, 1907, pp. 423 f., 579 f.), Du Bose’s Highpriesthood and Sacrifice (1908), A. Nairne’s The Epistle of Priesthood (1913), H. L. MacNeill’s Christology of the Epistle to the Hebrews (1914), H. A. A. Kennedy’s Theology of the Epistles (1919, pp. 182-221), and E. F. Scott’s The Epistle to the Hebrews (1922).
Many readers who are not children will understand what Mr Edmund Gosse in Father and Son (pp. 89 f.) describes, in telling how his father read aloud to him the epistle. “The extraordinary beauty of the language—for instance, the matchless cadences and images of the first chapter—made a certain impression upon my imagination, and were (I think) my earliest initiation into the magic of literature. I was incapable of defining what I felt, but I certainly had a grip in the throat, which was in its essence a purely aesthetic emotion, when my father read, in his pure, large, ringing voice, such passages as ‘The heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou remainest, and they shall all wax old as doth a garment, and as a vesture shalt Thou fold them up, and they shall be changed; but Thou art the same, and Thy years shall not fail.’ But the dialectic parts of the epistle puzzled and confused me. Such metaphysical ideas as ‘laying again the foundation of repentance from dead works’ and ‘crucifying the Son of God afresh’ were not successfully brought down to the level of my understanding. …The melodious language, the divine forensic audacities, the magnificent ebb and flow of argument which make the Epistle to the Hebrews such a miracle, were far beyond my reach, and they only bewildered me.” They become less bewildering when they are viewed in the right perspective. The clue to them lies in the philosophical idea which dominates the outlook of the writer, and in the symbolism which, linked to this idea, embodied his characteristic conceptions of religion. We might almost say that, next to the deflecting influence of the tradition which identified our epistle with the Pauline scheme of thought and thereby missed its original and independent contribution to early Christianity, nothing has so handicapped its appeal as the later use of it in dogmatic theology. While the author of Πὸ Ἑρίυ often turned the literal into the figurative, his theological interpreters have been as often engaged in turning the figurative expressions of the epistle into what was literal. A due appreciation of the symbolism has been the slow gain of the historical method as applied to the classics of primitive Christianity. There is no consistent symbolism, indeed, not even in the case of the ἀχεες in the nature of the case, there could not be. But symbolism there is, and symbolism of a unique kind.
(i)
The author writes from a religious philosophy of his own—that is, of his own among the NT writers. The philosophical element in his view of the world and God is fundamentally Platonic. Like Philo and the author of Wisdom, he interprets the past