For its eighteenth and nineteenth seasons (1980-82), the Philadelphia Seminar on Christian Origins chose for its topic, Marcel Simon's Verus Israel (Paris: Editions E. de Boccard, 1964). The original intent was to translate, partially revise, and bring up to date the material in the book. For various reasons, some practical and some legal, the translation project was abandoned. Nevertheless, the two years of study of Simon's work have given the members of the Seminar some interesting insights into the value of the book, as well as some ideas concerning the directions of research in the field of Jewish-Christian relations in the early centuries of the common era.

Contrary to previous practice, these minutes are not arranged in the order of the meetings, but instead in the order of the chapters of Verus Israel. It is hoped that any confusion which may seem to arise from such an arrangement may be offset by a greater facility in working through Simon's book with the members of the Seminar.

Appended to the Minutes is a supplemental bibliography, which includes works and studies which have appeared since the second edition of Verus Israel in 1964. It is not intended to be complete, but it does contain a significant sample of scholarship on the subject. It is the work of David P. Efroymson and Eugene Gallagher, with additions by various members of the Seminar.

Bibliographical data which have been cited by Simon, either in the text and notes or in his bibliography, have not been repeated in these Minutes.

For the two years, the Co-Chairpersons of the Seminar were David P. Efroymson and John White of LaSalle College. The Seminar is under the general sponsorship of the Department of Religious Studies of the University of Pennsylvania. Robert A. Kraft has served as general advisor to the Seminar since its inception in 1963. The Secretary is Robert V. Hotchkiss.

[Editor’s note: Verus Israel has since been translated into English by H. McKeating and published in the Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, London, 1986 and 1996.]

Introduction, “The Problem. Chronological Limits of the Study”

John A. White, LaSalle College

(PSCO 18.1; 30 September 1980)

In his introduction, Simon attempts to place his work in the context of other studies of the relations between Judaism and Christianity in the early centuries of the common era. He sees the turn of the 20th century as marking the beginning of a revival of the study of Judaism in the Roman period, noting the publications of Schürer, Bousset-Gressmann, Moore, Bonsirven, and others, as well as the “sometimes sensational archaeological discoveries” at Dura-Europos. Most of these works, however, are concerned with Judaism in itself, or in contact with Paganism. Jewish-Christian relations are considered only in passing.

Some scholars who did consider Judaism in its relation to Christianity were limited in their approach. Ziegler limits himself to the first three centuries, Lucas to the fourth, and Hoennicke to “Jewish Christianity” in a very narrow sense. The only “recent” (1934) work, that of Parkes, is more concerned with social and political history than with religious matters.

A few have considered the problem in some depth, but, to Simon, disappointingly. Lagrange and Harnack have suggested an almost total lack of contact between Judaism and Christianity. Lagrange insists that Judaism simply ignored the church; Harnack argues that: there was no contact after the end of the 1st century. Duchesne confines the problem to Jewish Christianity, but sees no Jewish-Christian contacts, even among Jewish Christians, after the destruction of Jerusalem. Schwartz formulated, without developing it, the hypothesis that Jewish proselytism persisted in the wake of the conquering church. Bousset suspects that Jewish diaspora relations with Christianity may have been closer than heretofore imagined, and that Hellenistic and universalistic Judaism was maintained much longer than was commonly admitted. Blau agrees.

Simon declares that his intention is not to determine dependency in the case of common elements in Judaism and Christianity, nor to review the history of the split from the preaching of Jesus to the existence of an independent church. Rather, he proposes to make a tableau of the relations between the two religions in the Roman Empire from the moment when Christianity was conscious of its autonomy and universal mission to the time when Judaism gave up the struggle and became disinterested in Gentiles.

The date Simon chooses for the beginning of his study is 135 C.E. Although breaks between Judaism and nascent Christianity had occurred earlier in some cases, important elements of the church maintained ties with Judaism in Palestine and elsewhere until 135. The terminal date for the study also seems rather obvious to Simon. He chooses 425 C.E., the end of the Jewish patriarchate and the removal of Judaism's center from the Roman Empire. (It should be noted that the members of the Seminar found these dates far from obvious, and could find multiple reasons for beginning and ending somewhere else instead.)

Chapter I, “Following the Crisis: Palestinian Judaism”

Judah Goldin, University of Pennsylvania

(PSCO 18.2; 19 November 1980)

Simon's first chapter is a serious attempt to describe how the representatives of Judaism and Christianity faced each other from the late second through the fourth centuries. There are some problems, however, with the references. Simon is apparently using an anthology of rabbinic material, and occasionally confuses rabbis of similar names. These errors, however, do not seem to harm an otherwise good argument.

Simon understands the despondency of Judaism after 70, and especially after the disaster of 135. The quotation with which he begins the chapter, “We have nothing now save the Mighty One and his Law (2 Apoc. Bar. 85:3),” is most apropos, and echoes the sentiments of the rabbis of the third and fourth centuries. With no Temple and no sacrifices, the Jews had literally lost their institutions and their worship. They had no priests, no Levites, and no structural, institutional worship. The synagogues were a surrogate, but simply could not substitute for the real thing. Despondency was to be expected: What sort of a God would permit such a thing?

Simon also understands that the events of 70 and 135, although leaving a residue of hostilities between Jews and Christians, most definitely did not cut them off from each other. Perhaps the clearest example of Jewish-Christian cultural interchange is found in the decorations at the synagogue of Dura-Europos, where a borrowing of seemingly Christian (and even pagan) art seems to have gone on without rabbinic objection. Decorations in other synagogues, from a later period, show that Jews were well settled into towns of upper Galilee, and were concerned with how to keep the Torah and maintain Jewishness in the midst of Gentiles. Clearly, Jews settled in Gentile territory, and were being affected by the milieu there, including language and culture.

Simon has a healthy appreciation for the way in which a society goes on in spite of tension and hostility, without withdrawing from the world. Considering the modern sophisticated techniques used to study Midrash and other rabbinic materials, Simon's arguments are really directed at the scholarship of the earlier part of this century. It was Harnack who insisted that the Jews withdrew into the world of legalism following 70 and 135. Simon is wise to insist that this was not really so.

How did the Jews work out their despair? How were they expected to live a life dedicated to the commands and person of a God who simply did not come across when he was most needed? Somehow, such questions led not only to a certain despondency, but also to a genuine reclamation of the faith. There are several possible reasons for this surprisingly positive reaction:

1) Sheer inertia. People tend to continue things the way they have been. In this case, it worked.

2) The Jews saw that the life around them was not necessarily morally superior to theirs. Their values, their language, their culture were in many ways even superior to the Gentile. Particularly by the third or fourth centuries, Jews were simply not tempted to live like the ordinary pagans. (Augustine used the same sort of reasoning in rejecting the life of the upper classes of Rome--they had nothing to offer.)

3) By the fourth century, there was a growing conviction of a Messianic redemption, expressed not only in the apocalypses, but also in Talmudic literature itself. Talmudic mention is restrained, however, since the rabbis did not want the people to lose their sense of reality. (The Mishnah commands belief in the resurrection of the dead, but not in the Messiah. The Talmud discusses the Messiah.)

The rabbis used the experience of 586 B.C.E. as a sort of model for Jewish attitudes, since the people had managed to survive in similar situations before: “Nothing but the Mighty One and Torah. If God fulfilled his promise to destroy, will he not also fulfill his promise to redeem?”

On p. 32, Simon notes that the Pharisees had affinities with the spirit of the Diaspora, i.e. with Hellenism. Even though this may seem strange, it was certainly a most natural phenomenon. The Jews lived in a pagan world, and were necessarily influenced by it. In spite of this, however, there seems to have been a common Pharisaic intellectualization of Judaism within the Diaspora.

Even though there were such natural affinities with Hellenism, and even though the Romans seemed to be not terribly unfriendly with the Jews, the events of 70 and 135 notwithstanding, there were times of persecution. It was not that the Romans were intolerant; it was that the monotheist Jews were necessarily intolerant of idolatry, and even made fun of it. Jews spent a good bit of time trying to stay legal, even though they were totally unlike anything else in the Empire. For the Gentiles, religion was a part of life. For the Jews, religion was the totality of existence. They could not put up statues to the emperor; they wanted to raise money to send away to Jerusalem; they refused to be in the army; etc. For all this, they were a pain to the Romans, who would occasionally get fed up with the whole thing and react violently. In essence, it was impossible for a monotheistic religion to behave circumspectly in Roman society.

It was suggested in the Seminar that one reason that there was not a more strenuous reaction by the Romans after the revolt of 70 was the presence of Josephus. Not that his works were circulated in the decade after the war, but that by his presence as a royal advisor on Jewish affairs, Josephus made it clear that one must not assume that “true Jews” started the war.

Strangely, there was no progressive decline of the status of Jews after Constantine. A consistent policy was maintained from Augustus to Theodotus: a prohibition of proselytism and the circumcision of Gentiles. The exception was in the person of Domitian, who seemed to have become a focal point for opposition to the Jews.

Chapter III, “The Church and Israel”

Daniel R. Bechtel, Dickinson College

(PSCO 18.4; 10 March 1981)

Simon's chapter on “The Church and Israel” explores the effect of the crises of 70 and 135 on the Christian views of Israel, the Law, and the Jews. These views underwent a tortuous development as the church was forced to reformulate its relationship to Israel with each new event. Simon is careful to place Christian views of Israel into their problematic contexts, and to show how these views were born out of crises in the relationship of the Christians themselves to their surrounding culture.

Christianity received an impetus toward the development of its autonomy after the events of 70, while the destruction following the revolt of 135 became a basis for an apologetic against Israel. This development was not universal. Jewish Christians joined their Jewish compatriots in the hope of a restoration of the Sanctuary, even while seeing in its destruction a just punishment to Israel for its rejection of the Messiah. This combination tended to alienate them from both the synagogue and the church. After 135, Jewish Christians fell under Hadrian's ban, and could not even enter the rebuilt city. Simon calls this time “the failure of Jewish Christianity” (p. 89).

The gentile Christian community saw the events of 70 in a narrowly eschatological way. They did not attribute any punitive significance to Israel's sufferings until, after 135. Even then, according to Hegesippus, the events of 70 were seen as punishment for the execution of James. It was only with Tertullian, Origen, and Eusebius that they were connected with the crucifixion. Simon feels that it was during this period that anti-Jewish polemic began among the Christians, even as a gentile majority developed in the church.

The continuing vitality of Judaism created a serious problem for the church, which had to explain why the divine punishment did not succeed. The church could not ignore its connections with Judaism: its moralism, its liturgy, its pagan clientele, its hermeneutic, and its scriptures. The rise of gnosticism exacerbated the problem of how to deal with the Jewish scriptures, although Simon seems a bit confused as to how this was handled.

The church found it difficult to declare that the Jews had forfeited all right to the scripture after the coming of Christ. After all, these same scriptures refer to God's chosen people, and thus reinforce Israel's claims. At the same time, the church was rejecting much of the Law as currently inapplicable, even if it was valid in the past. Simon summarizes some of the attempts to approach this problem, which, in turn, created more problems.

Paul characterizes the Law as a paedagogos, even while he presents the Law and Christ as two powers standing in opposition. Despite this, he frames issues according to Jewish moralism, but with the idea that the “spiritual person” is not governed by the Law. With no systematic attempt to distinguish moral and ritual law, Paul claims that the law of Christ stands in contrast to the Law of Moses, and replaces it.

However, if Christians insisted that the new replaced the old, then they were open to the charge by pagans that they represented a new, and thus secondary, religion. The church attempted to resolve this new problem by claiming that it was the genuine heir of the true Israel in the OT. With imaginative allegorical exegesis, not always convincing, the church found Christ revealed in the OT, and the church present in the exodus.

This raised a new problem: the Law of Moses. The church presented itself as the earliest tradition, heir to the covenant, with either prophetic or priestly (Melchizidek) roots. Judaism had to be seen as an innovation and distortion of the earlier revelation. This required a second Law, the ritual one, which came after the incident of the golden calf. The Didascalia developed this idea of a second Law, and identified it with both the Mosaic Law and the Mishnah which the Jews created.

To a great degree, the church's problem was that it found it necessary to claim the OT as canon, and not to abandon it. This required at least “subtle reasoning and judiciously adaptable methods of interpretation” (p. 117). In this process, Judaism was declared to be unfaithful to the divine call, but no less a recipient of the revelation. All of these arguments were used in very practical situations faced by the early church, directed towards both pagans and Jews, as well as against Judaizing Christians. The continued polemic indicates that Judaism was a continuing force in religious life during the period. Both scholarly polemic and popular anti-Semitism bore the imprint of continued contact with Judaism.

Simon's statements concerning the motivations for the development of Christian arguments are most appreciated. Simon does not reduce the problem to one issue, either doctrinal or practical. Unfortunately, he does not always make clear the temporal and geographical settings for the views which he discusses, although this would help greatly to provide a clearer sense of the development of ideas. Without a careful delineation of times, places, and social interactions, Christianity seems to be equated with that line of development which became orthodox. Simon also seems to concentrate on the orthodox teachings concerning Israel. What would we learn by trying to discover the views of, say, Christian gnostics in all this?

The boundaries Simon has set for himself in developing his study are also somewhat problematic. He insists that it was only after 135 that Christianity began to interpret the fall of Jerusalem as a divine verdict against Israel. However, the gospel tradition, particularly in Matthew (see Matt 21:33-46; 22:1-14; 23:37-39, followed by a prediction of the destruction of Jerusalem in 27:51) contains more than hints of a connection between the crucifixion and the destruction of Jerusalem, and was certainly written well before 135. Helpful in this is the study by Douglas R. A. Hare in Anti-Semitism and the Foundations of Christianity (ed. A. T. Davies).

Simon's discussion of Paul's views is confusing. Recognizing Paul's mysticism in his perception of the power of the Law in opposition to the power of Christ, he then suggests that “in actual fact there is not a great deal of difference between the Jew who applies himself to fulfill what the Law prescribes and the apostle who spontaneously, without seeking to do so, lives in conformity with the Law” (p. 99). Even more perplexing is the assertion that Paul's ideas dominated the ancient church, and yet that his original anti-legalism became so blurred that it disappeared entirely. Might it be that Simon's statements on Paul, and the absence of any comments on the gospels' anti-Jewish perspectives, are part of a certain reticence on his part to be critical of canonical texts?

A significant issue for further study might be the role of the Temple in the relationships of Christians and Jews before and after the destruction. (The significance of the Temple for the relations between Jews and Romans is beyond doubt, which is why it was destroyed.) Simon does not pursue the question of the Temple, although distress over the possibility of its rebuilding is notable in the gospels and other early Christian literature. Such a possibility would be a threat to the Christian understanding that the true Temple was the risen Christ. It might be helpful to explore the significance of place and sacred space as an element in the conflict between Christianity and Judaism.

(Chapter III, “The Church and Israel”)

“The Role of the Temple in Post-70 Rabbinic Judaism”

Joel Reizburg, LaSalle College

(PSCO 19.4; 30 March 1982)

The Temple, or rather the lack of it after 70, became a focal point for both Jews and Christians seeking self-identification. The conventional wisdom is that the destruction of the Temple marked the end of Jewish sacrificial cult and. a transition to a religion of Torah, and that a restoration of the cult was desired by all, including the Pharisees. The question should be asked, however, whether or not the destruction of the Temple was really the only, or even the main reason for the cessation of sacrifice.

Evidence would seem to show that even while the second Temple was extant, many Jewish groups learned to live without it and yet to continue the cult. The cult was performed outside of Jerusalem at Elephantine and at Leontopolis. Diaspora Jews tended to spiritualze the cult; Philo was by no means the only practitioner of this art. The Qumran community deliberately avoided the Temple cult, constituting their community as the New Temple. Christians, as a Jewish sect, considered the Christ as the New Temple, and claimed that the final sacrifice had already taken place. Even prior to 70, the Pharisees were attempting to extend the rites of the Temple to all outside, as if each person's table were an altar and each person everywhere participated in the cult. At this rate, the events of 70 must have been of varying significance.

There seems to have been no reason why the destruction of the Temple itself should have ended the sacrifices, and in fact it did not do so. There is evidence that earlier destruction or desecration of the site did not cause discontinuance either; e.g. Ezra reports sacrifice during the exile (Ezra 1:4), as does Jeremiah (Jer 51:5). Oesterle claims that the “altar had been used for offering sacrifices during the whole period of the exile” (History of Israel [1932], 11, 56). Likewise, following the Syrian desecration in 168 B.C.E. and the Roman in 63 C.E., the cult continued.

There may be NT references to the continuance of the cult after 70, but they are certainly not clear. Clement of Rome seems to suggest that Christians should participate in the cult (I Corinthians 40). Talmudic evidence, however, suggests that after 70, there continued “private sacrifice” rather than public. Halakically, the Rabbis presuppose the non-existence of the cult, but yet they seem to acknowledge that it continues in some form, even while they are moving toward existence without it.

It does not seem to have been physically impossible to sacrifice at the Temple site. The Romans after 70 seemed surprisingly lenient about it. After 70, only a token garrison was stationed in the city, and pilgrims continued to come to the Temple area. Only after 135 was the Temple a prohibited area. Nothing really seems to have stopped the Jews from continuing the cult after 70; and in fact it seems to have persisted in some form. Outside of Jerusalem, the destruction was not so significant. If that is the case, then why did the sacrifices stop?

A good case can be made that the Pharisees took advantage of the situation to alter the religion of Judaism. In this, Yohanan ben Zakkai seems to have been quite influential. A. Guttmann (“The End of the Jewish Sacrificial Cult” (HUCA 38 [1967], 147-8) sees it as a political move against the Sadducee leadership. Neusner agrees, but sees the re-emphasis as genuinely religiously motivated. Perhaps a good summary of this, as well as an interesting thesis, can be found in Robert Goldenberg's “The Broken Axis” JAAR Suppl 45+3 [1977]). Goldenburg sees the Temple site as losing its cosmic dimension even by the time of the prophets. The moral orientation of the Temple became more important. With the destruction of the Temple, a new source of atonement needed to be found. The rabbis found a permanent replacement in the cult of the heart. Like Christians, they spiritualized the cult, although with greatly different emphasis. Christians taught the replacement of the community with the new atonement; the rabbis needed to show continuity instead. Therefore, while wanting to permanently replace the center of national life which was the Temple with prayer and Torah, they still had to affirm the superiority of the old cult, and retain the expectation that it would someday be restored. The conflict was never resolved, except perhaps in the Messianic future, which itself seems to have been de-emphasized.

This thesis involves a certain duplicity on the part of the Pharisees/rabbis, forcing them to be saying what they did not really mean. It is also totally unfalsifiable--there is no way to disprove it from rabbinic sources. On the other hand, it could have been that the rabbis really wanted to rebuild, but could find no practical way to do it. It should be noted that the Emperor Julian started a project to rebuild the Temple, but it was probably more as a way of getting at the Christians than of helping the Jews. David Levenson has found some Jewish sources about this, contrary to the usually accepted view that there are no such references in Jewish Literature (“A Source and Tradition Critical Study of the Stories of Julian's Attempt to Rebuild the Jerusalem Temple, Harvard dissertation, 1980).

Another note: Attitudes toward the Temple were already mixed before 70, since the synagogue was the predominant institution, not the Temple. Thus, mixed feelings about its destruction would seem natural between 70 and 135, and the eventual spiritualization of the cult quite expected, even without political motivation.

(Chapter III, “The Church and Israel”)

“The Sacrifice of Isaac in Early Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity”

Alan Segal, Barnard College

(PSCO 19.5; 29 April 1982)

Both the early church and early rabbinic Judaism were interested in the Akedah, the story of the (near) sacrifice of Isaac, as an example of martyrdom--the death of the innocent to fulfill the will of God. The most influential contributor to the study of this tradition in Judaism is Shalom Spiegel, in Meaggadot Ha-Akedah (in English as The Last Trial, tr. Judah Goldin [New York: Random House, 1967]). While Spiegel shows marvelous ingenuity in making the theme explicit over the history of Judaism, there is a tendency to homogenize the material by ignoring the chronological data and synthesizing the various interpretations.

Another approach can be found in G. Vermes, Scripture and Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 1973 2 ). Vermes attempts to show that the midrash about Isaac in the first century became a paradigm to express the expectations of the disciples in Jesus' mission. His arguments are based on several bold theses: that the Palestinian targum tradition contains an identifiable core of first century tradition, that the Jewish community had already begun to use the death and resurrection of Isaac as the model for the reward of the martyrs, and that Christians picked this up as a paradigm for the suffering of Jesus. Vermes is apparently attempting to place Christianity fully within a Jewish context.

While it is true that the story of the sacrifice of Isaac may well give us a source for the idea of vicarious atonement in Christianity, there is really no way to isolate first century traditions in the targumim. Here, we may cite P. R. Davies and B. D. Chilton, “The Akedab: A Revised Tradition History” (CBQ 40 [1978], 514ff). Davies and Chilton claim that the targumim are simply not pre-Christian. On the other hand, they take the rather extreme position that there is no mention of the Akedah in any pre-Christian literature. This is only literally true: the term Akedah occurs first in the rabbinic tractate Tamid, but there is clear evidence for the hermeneutic interpretation of the sacrifice of Isaac as an example of martyrdom and temple sacrifice before Christianity. Davies and Chilton apparently wish to preserve the integrity of the concept of atoning sacrifice in Christianity.

The associations between sacrifice and the story of Isaac are definitely pre-Christian. Examples: 2 Chron 3:1 connects the place of Isaac's sacrifice and the Temple Mount. Jub. 17:15-18:19 associates the sacrifice of Isaac and the Passover. Other passages show much hermeneutical activity on the subject: Philo the Elder, Alexander Polyhistor and Demetrius (both in Eusebius, Praeparatio Evangelica IX, 20, 1); Sir 44:19-21; Jdt 8:25-27. Philo does not give us many discussions of the sacrifice of Isaac, but in De Abrahamo 198, he uses the story to illustrate the concept of giving one's life for others' benefit. Josephus (Ant. 1.222-236) shows Isaac as an adult and a willing martyr. Even though it is obvious that the Isaac story was connected with martyrdom and vicarious atonement before Christianity, it is wrong to assume that there was a single paradigmatic tradition which could have been picked up by the church as a type for Jesus.

The problem of martyrdom is the Jewish expression of a broad ethical and moral question which was actively being debated in the Hellenistic world. Daniel and 2 Maccabees associate martyrdom and resurrection, but the motif of Isaac's sacrifice as the normative example of martyrdom does not appear until the 1st century, particularly in 4 Maccabees, dated to the early 30's but devoid of Christian influence. There is even associated the concept of vicarious atonement (4 Macc 6:27f.).

The Christian material is quite different. The identification of the martyred figure as the Messiah is absolutely central to the typology. Paul's use of the scripture shows this distinction. Possible references to Isaac come up only indirectly in Paul: “He who did not spare his own son but gave him up for us all” (Rom 8:32) clearly sounds the note of vicarious atonement, but mentions neither Isaiah 53 nor the Temple service nor blood. Rather, it appears to make a kind of implicit analogy between God's action and the action of Abraham in sacrificing his son.

The novel aspect for Paul is the story of a crucified Messiah, an aspect obviously missing from pre-Christian Jewish exegesis. It is clear that Paul takes the crucified Jesus to be Messiah and son of God because of his faith commitment, and not because of a pre-existing development of the midrash. Only because of his faith can Paul say that as Abraham had offered up his son, so also God offered up his son so that all of the families of humankind would be blessed. Paul is using midrashic techniques to express an idea totally absent from Jewish midrashic exegesis. The midrash itself is not a single text, but an anthology made up of different interpretations of individual commentators. All of the themes of later Christianity are taken up, but none interpret the Isaac passage messianically.

In a similar fashion, there seems to be no way in Judaism to identify any specific figure with the “suffering servant” of Isaiah 53. There is not even an overarching understanding of the referent of the servant songs. Isaac is known as a servant of God in a Job targum, but also identified is David or the Messiah. No attempt is made to see any particular passage as a prophecy, or to come up with any single figure who is the servant. Likewise, son/servant (the same word in Greek) can be associated in the OT material, and seen to imply an implicit analogy between Jesus and Isaac in the NT. It is the Christian experience of a crucified/risen Messiah which causes the discussions of suffering and martyrdom in the OT to coalesce as prophecies of Jesus' suffering, even while everything dealing with “sonship” or “Messiah” or “suffering” or “servant” is being attracted to Jesus.

It is in reaction to this Christian exegesis that the rabbis began to speak of the full sacrifice and even resurrection of Isaac. These amoraic traditions can be reasonably understood as attempts to enrich Judaism with a figure who was as colorful as the one known to Christian exegesis. This does not even require a great deal of cultural contact between the communities.

Chapter IV, “Rome, Judaism, and Christianity”

John Gager, Princeton University

(PSCO 18.3; 27 January 1981)

In this chapter, Simon contributes little that is original, but is satisfied with the older consensus about the period. He stresses the consistency of the official Roman policy concerning the Jews, from the period before 70 (even back to Julius Caesar) through Julian. The only deviation was Hadrian's attempt to stamp out Judaism after the Bar Cochba rebellion, and that policy was quickly overturned by Antonius Pius. There were two aspects to the official policy: 1) Protection. The Jews as groups were free to pursue their own religious practices, with considerable autonomy in their community affairs. 2) Restriction. Full conversion (i.e. circumcision) of Gentiles was forbidden, as was return to Judea. In all this, the Jewish communities were required to maintain internal peace. After 150 to 200, there were clear signs of an increasingly positive attitude (not policy) toward Jews. This came as a function of Rome's increasing concern with Christianity. Rome was making common cause with Judaism against the real enemy; i.e. Christianity.

Simon, along with many other scholars, sees an increasingly hostile policy toward Judaism under the Christian Empire, over the 4th and 5th centuries. He calls it a “radical change” (p. 161). For a contrary view, see below.

Several bibliographical items:

Simon has reviewed The Jews under Roman Rule by Mary Smallwood (Leiden: Brili, 1976), and finds nothing new there. This may very well be, since the evidence appears to be all in by now. However, he notes that the book is quite well put together.

Jeremy Cohen, in Byzantine Studies III (1976, pp. 1-29), challenges the establishment in its “lachrymose view” of Jewish history under the Christian Roman Empire. He has looked at the imperial edicts, and insists that there is no shift in policy until the 5th century, and that testimonies to the contrary by the rabbis are simply repetitions of the horrors of an earlier period.

Y. F. Baer, in ““Israel, the Christian Church and the Roman Empire from the Time of Septimius Severus to the Edict of Toleration of A.D. 313” (Scripta Hierosolymitana VII [Jerusalem, 1961], pp. 79-145), says there was no real protective policy for the Jews from the time of the severance until Constantine, and that it was a period of consistent decline of the status of Judaism, with repeated persecutions as evidenced from information scattered throughout the rabbinic materials. Simon (see his “Post Scriptum,” pp. 495-496), along with Sol Liebermann, sees these persecutions as imagined events, reproducing real events under Hadrian.

Chapter V: “Anti-Jewish Polemic; Characteristics and Methods”

Robert V. Hotchkiss, Secretary of PSCO

(PSCO 18.4; 10 March 1981)

This chapter is, in a very real sense, introductory. Simon is attempting to provide some sort of rationale for Christian anti-Jewish polemic, and to point out some of the problems involved in research of the genre.

The hostility between Christians and Jews in the period we are considering was certainly not unexpected, and in fact seems to stem from three factors: each is concerned with its own legitimacy (and the illegitimacy of the other); each is claiming the same scriptures; and each is battling for the same pagan supporters. The hostility showed itself in a tradition of polemic materials. On the Christian side, they are not difficult to find, since the church fathers are readily available. Jewish material, however, is much less accessible since, for the most part, the term Christian has been expunged from the Talmud. For the Christian materials, Simon uses the studies by A. Lukyn Williams (Adversus Judaeos) and Adolph Harnack (introduction to Altercatio Simonis et Theophili in TU), finding them quite different in approach. Williams sees virtually no relationship between the various polemical works, preferring to view them as individual writers dealing with specific situations, often utilizing common sources, but reflecting real controversies. Harnack, on the other hand, sees a close relationship between the works, and finds them wholly theoretical, reflecting no real controversies at all between Jews and Christians. Simon attempts a middle ground, hoping to find in these Christian materials some clues on the nature of Jewish-Christian relationships.

The most probable beginning for such polemic must have been controversies over the use of the scriptures. Even this may not be so obvious, since the same arguments from scripture were used against pagans as against Jews (cf. Tertullian's Adv. Jud. and Adv. Marcion). At the least, anti-Jewish works have more scripture cited in them than anti-pagan ones.

The literature is extremely persistent. Harnack would attribute this to the tenacity of literary forms, although this would not seem to explain its continued existence into the Middle Ages, particularly in Spain, where there was a Jewish presence.

Classification might help to study the material, although Williams' method (by language) is much too simplistic. Classification by use might help, as might geographical factors. Simon is attracted to an analysis by A. B. Hulen (JBL, 1932), but finds it lacking also. Hulen opens up the possibility of a developmental analysis, but in the end anything that works seems mostly subjective.

Simon raises the question as to whether anti-Jewish polemic was intended to convert Jews, or to prevent Christians from being converted by them. He feels that the church stopped trying to convert Jews long before Judaism gave up “bothering” Christians. The real question is whether Judaism remained as a real threat to the church, particularly in the form of Judaizing. Simon feels that this was so (cf. the sermons of Chrysostom), which to him always implies the presence of a strong and lively Jewish community.

The seeming “monotony” of the anti-Jewish works makes it difficult at times to tell who may be the real opponents. This constancy of form could come from a slavish dependence on one's forbears or, more likely, from the persistence of objections and tactics on the part of the adversaries. Further study, much needed, would probably show that the “monotony” is more apparent than real and that other contemporaneous sources, Christian and Jewish, could open up the material to greater understanding.

Simon is much more incisive when he comes to discuss the methods of anti-Jewish polemic. He finds the technique of arguing from the scriptures common to all. To both Jews and Christians, the scriptures are in some sense both revelation and authority. Christians must, however, insist that the Jews have misinterpreted their own scriptures. This was done in several ways, usually mixed together: The OT was seen as a book of prophecy, simple and straightforward, announcing the future church; or it was seen an a collection of types and allegories, with Christ and the church in it from the beginning.. The church is thus either a fulfillment of prophecies and the religious development of Israel, or else the form of religion which God willed from the beginning, or both. The allegorical method leads to a great deal of imaginative interpretation, since it meant that Christ must be in the very Law itself. Simon notes that, given the Christian presupposition, this method is at the core quite Jewish: nothing in the sacred text is insignificant or accidental, and everything has a meaning. Except for Hellenistic Judaism, however, the rabbis used that technique quite sparingly in the Law.

Simon finds Philo more Christian than Jewish in his methods, but insists that Alexandrian Judaism never eliminated the literal sense of a passage completely, while some Christians did so. He also states that the OT was obviously not enough for any Christian, but that neither Philo nor the rabbis ever went beyond it.

There was also the problem of text. As Christians used the LXX, the Jews turned back to the Hebrew, at which point many Christians accused them of falsifying the text. The exceptions are those Christians who knew Hebrew, e.g. Origen and Jerome.

Simon feels that the Christians did not use the scriptural texts themselves, but employed testimonia. He assumes that such collections were extant as early as the apostolic era, and had Jewish antecedents. Both assertions are at least problematic. He cites the usual list of indications of the use of testimonies, mostly from Rendel Harris (Testimonia): peculiar textual forms, recurrent sequences, erroneous attributions of authorship, additions in the form of prefaces or comments, and peculiar, non-contextual, or irrelevant application. For Simon, the testimony books are the source of similarity in argument from polemic to polemic, rather than the copying of whole polemic documents themselves.

The whole question of testimony books is far more complex than Simon would seem to indicate. Comparison of such lists indicate that the relationships between them are extremely intricate. They seem to be closely related to particular purposes, and were freely adapted to the situations. Anti-Jewish testimony books would seem to show a living controversy, with either Jews or Judaizers. It should be noted that there is at least one family of testimony books which is not overtly anti-Jewish. Except for the obvious attempts at Christian interpretation of OT texts, the Pseudo-Epiphanius Testimony Book goes out of its way to avoid blaming the Jews for the crucifixion or the rejection of Jesus. Its purpose was probably baptismal.

Simon only hints at the possibility that some of the controversy over the scriptures may not have been basically Christian vs. Jew, but rather Alexandrian vs. Antiochan among Christians. There is the possibility that those called “Judaizers” were sometimes actually followers of a particular type of exegesis, which Simon would call “Jewish,” but which was actually somewhat removed from its source. It would seem that it was not always necessary to have a thriving Jewish community in order to bring about “Judaizing” among Christians.

Chapter VI, “The Argumentation of Anti-Jewish Polemic”

David P. Efroymson, LaSalle College

(PSCO 19.2; 17 November 1981)

For his analysis of the techniques of anti-Jewish argumentation, Simon has chosen to restrict himself to the specifically Adversus Judaios material, which he sees as stemming from actual Christian-Jewish debates. Within these restrictions, he notes a relative absence of references to the person and message of the historical Jesus. His restrictions are unfortunate, since there exists a great deal of anti-Jewish material outside of the debate tradition (and some within it) in which the teaching of Jesus is also used in significantly anti-Jewish ways. Note here Tertullian and Irenaeus on the parables.

Simon assumes that the polemic considers the crucifixion of Jesus to be one of the basic causes of the Jews' rejection of Christianity, which would explain why there are so many arguments to show that this event was specifically predicted in scripture. At the same time, he seems to reject a close connection between a “high” Christology and anti-Judaism. Equally important to the polemical arguments were the abrogation of the Law and the calling of the gentiles, complicated by the refusal of the Jews to see these in scripture as the Christians did.

The polemicists had some difficulty explaining the relationship of the Law to Christianity, perhaps more than Simon acknowledges. Although the Law seems universally attacked in the literature, the rationale differs greatly. It was hard to saw whether God was for or against the Law. If the Law is valid, then how can one explain Christianity's rejection of it? On the other hand, if it is to be abandoned, then Christianity is vulnerable to charges that it has no real continuity with God's people. Seeing the Law as allegory is not terribly helpful, since one would wonder why God would so stress the observance of something only symbolic.

Some attempts were made to distinguish between moral and ritual law, with Christians obliged to follow the first (e.g. the decalogue) and reject the second. Tertullian preferred to differentiate between “natural” and “ritual” law, using an extremely elaborate argumentation. Another apologetic way out was to define the Law as temporary, no longer valid after the punitive destruction of Jerusalem and the ending of the Temple cultus. Some even argued that God never wanted the sacrificial cult at all.

These mixed arguments seem to point out that the relationship of Christianity to the Law was not merely a matter for Jewish-Christian argument, but a difficult point within Christianity itself. There seemed to be an attempt to rationalize or legitimize Christianity's abandonment of the Law, which at the same time attempted to discourage Christians from “legalizing” their faith.

All of the Adversus Judaeos literature stresses Israel's apostasy, its rejection by God, and the calling of the gentiles as God's people. Texts are cited which condemn Israel, and which seem to have “universalist” tendencies beyond the nation. Simon sees something of a contradiction between the biblical texts, which, have Israel as a nucleus, and the apologists' reading of them, calling for a substitution of gentiles for Israel. This “contradiction,” of course, antedates the apologists, and is a concern of Romans 9-11 and Ephesians 2.

Simon sees in the literature a strong indication that the arguments were actually directed against Jews, since they would be of little concern to non-Jews or to Christians “smitten with Judaism.” However, this is not necessarily true. These arguments need neither real Jews nor Christian Jews, but only the very existence of Judaism itself. Because the Jews still existed at all, there was demanded some sort of rationale for the legitimization of Christianity. Clearly, Jews were around, but were not necessarily the recipients of the arguments.

Simon's final section in this chapter sums up his arguments on the reality of the Jewish-Christian encounters. He notes, however, that the arguments of the apologists seem as a whole to be conceived with a different type of Judaism in mind than the Alexandrian; i.e. a Judaism concerned with the letter of the text and the letter of the Law. It may be, however, that this abstract, “biblical” Judaism was a threat only in the heads of the Christians, and almost irrelevant to the actual Judaism of the time. According to Simon, the literature “as a whole proves that Judaism and Christianity did not ignore each other, but rather were preoccupied with each other” (p. 213). This may be, but at least for Christianity, as seen outside of the Adversus Judaios material, the concern seems to be as much for internal reinforcement as for defense against Judaism. That is, Judaism seems to have ignored Christianity more than Simon allows.

(Chapter VI, “The Argumentation of Anti-Jewish Polemic”)

“The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs in Early Christianity”

Marinus De Jonge, University of Leiden

(PSCO 18.5; 5 May 1981)

All investigations of the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs have to start from a reconstructed Christian text of an uncertain date. From there, we must take two steps backward.. First to Origen, the earliest to quote from the work, and second to a Hellenistic Jewish text supposedly used and reworded by Christians in the second century. Note that the supposed “original” may not be taken for granted. If it ever existed, it must be reconstructed, or else posited largely without proof.

We should be cautious using the words Jewish and Christian. If the Testaments are taken from the Old Testament or from Jewish Haggadic traditions, this does not mean that they are Jewish. It only shows that the author knew the OT and had access to Jewish material. The paraenetic portions of the book are neither distinctively Jewish nor Christian, and may be Hellenistic and Jewish and Christian at the same time. Those paraenetic sections using the biographical material as illustrations are directly connected with the predictions of the future which contain many clearly Christian elements. Unfortunately, these passages are also extremely difficult to analyze. The Christian elements occur in a variety of places and function in a variety of ways.

We must, in any case, speak of a Christian redaction of the Testaments. It is difficult to prove the existence of an earlier Hellenistic Jewish stage, and even harder to reconstruct it. Nevertheless, it is too simple to assume that the composition of the Testaments as a book coincided with the Christian redaction. Whether the Testaments are a Christian composition, or a Hellenistic Jewish document thoroughly redacted by Christians, we still have to answer how they functioned in the early Christian church, and when they were used for the first time.

Eckhard von Nordheim, in Die Lehre der Alten (ALGHJ XIII, Leiden: 1980), sees a clear and intrinsic connection between the exhortations and the predictions. He is able to differentiate three types. of predictions:

1) The first is found also in OT Wisdom passages: the future is the consequence of a certain way of life and certain actions. Some of these passages are quite straightforward, with an obvious connection between paraenesis and prediction.

2) There are the Sin-Exile-Return passages, representing an eschatological variant of the deuteronomist's view of history. This pattern emphasizes the importance of righteous behavior and of repentance, and it promises return/salvation after renewed obedience. The readers are regarded as prone to sin and/or in distress.

3) More difficult, but certainly present, is the Levi-Judah type of prediction. Levi and Judah represent the ancient institutions of priesthood and kingship, bearers of God's promises, guaranteeing God's salvation of the future. The two are to be obeyed. However, just what obedience to them as mediators of future salvation may mean concretely in the case of the intended reader of the Testaments does not become clear. I would suggest that in all of these cases, the author has Jesus Christ in mind, and the salvation brought by him.

The Testaments have been used by Christians who show a concern for the salvation of Israel, on the basis of a (future) positive relation of Israel to Jesus Christ, expressed in the form of exhortations with warnings and promises directed to the twelve tribes and pronounced by the patriarchs themselves. There is a positive attitude toward the patriarchs, the ancient writings of Israel, and for the scriptures which the church and Israel have in common. Interpretation of the Testaments, therefore, ought to keep in mind: a) a search for parallels in early Christian writings showing concern for the future of Israel, and b) a search for comments on the fulfillment of God's promises to Israel in Christian writings involving interpretations of the OT, and particularly concerning the twelve tribes.

Hippolytus of Rome may be one of these parallels. He is the first Christian writer to write continuous commentaries on entire writings of the Bible, almost exclusively OT. [Marcel Richard has given an impressive list of. these in his article, “Hippolyte de Rome (saint)” in Dictionaire de Spiritualité (Paris: 1969).] Hippolytus takes his task as OT interpreter quite seriously. He is a master of typology, and is also acquainted with Jewish interpretations. His “Commentary on the Benedictions of Isaac, Jacob, and Moses” shows some striking parallels with the Testaments materials. [A magnificent edition of this work is that in the PO XXVII, 1-2 (Paris: 1954), with copious and detailed notes by L. Marièr.] There are very few points of contact between Hippolytus and the Testaments, since their functions are quite different. Nevertheless, they show us something of how the Testaments may have functioned in the period before Origen. Then, again, Hippolytus' Commentary, although important and quite early, is only one link in a chain of Christian commentary tradition.

Hippolytus insists that the predictions of the patriarchs were not fulfilled in OT times, but came to pass only in Jesus Christ. Thus, for example, Joseph is a type of Christ. His visions (Genesis 37) did not become true in his own life time, nor in Egypt. The sun, moon, and eleven stars become Mary, Joseph, and the eleven apostles adoring Christ on the Mount of Olives between his resurrection and his ascension. Likewise, the blessings of Isaac and Jacob become in fact “proof of their guilt,” i.e. of their future sins against Christ. They are seen as real blessings, but only insofar as they are realized in Christ and those who will, in the future, believe in him.

This does not mean that Hippolytus can speak only negatively of Israel. There is no doubt that God's word was addressed to Israel in the first place, that Israel bears the consequences of its rejection of Christ, and that the nations share in Christ's salvation. Israel is said to be in dispersion, with which one may compare the Sin-Exile-Return pattern in the Testaments. If and when Israel turns to the Lord, it is saved. Interestingly, there seems to be no explicit reference to repentance and salvation at the end of times. All along, Hippolytus concentrates on the fulfillment in Christ rather than on the second coming at the consummation of times.

Hippolytus goes out of his way to make the Levi-Judah connection which is also seen in the Testaments. He describes Christ as “he who is born from Judah, who was forefigured in Joseph, was found to be a priest of the father from Levi.” In speaking of the blessing on Judah, Hippolytus asks why the blessing was not also given to Levi, and answers it by positing a merger of the two tribes. Thus, the son of God could be shown to be both king and priest. In his commentary on Daniel, Hippolytus does a very special exegesis on Matthew 1:11, a difficult verse in the genealogy, by ingeniously connecting Jesus with the Levitic line. The Levi-Judah connection is extremely important to the commentator and to his readers.

Considering the way that Hippolytus knows and uses Jewish and Christian traditions, it would be useful to read his other exegetical writings as well, in order to search out other parallels to the Testaments. We should also look in other second and third century Christian authors, and even later ones. These commentaries of Hippolytus were written for Christians, trying to enlist Isaac, Jacob, and Moses as witnesses to Christ. Their consistent typological approach is not found in the Testaments, which seem to have a Jewish audience in mind (or aim, at least, to be used in discussions with Jews), with the explicit purpose of convincing them with the help of their own patriarchs. Yet, there are enough points of contact between the Testaments and Hippolytus to encourage us to continue our attempt to define the place of the Testaments in early Christianity more clearly.

Chapter VIII.1 “Christian Anti-Semitism,” Part I (Backgrounds)

John Gager, Princeton University

(PSCO 18.3; 27 January 1981)

In this section, Simon's views are widely representative of modern scholarship in most respects:

He sees Greco-Roman anti-Semitism as being fundamentally different from the anti-Semitism of the medieval and modern worlds. He finds in the ancient world no trace of racial, social, ethnic, or economic bases for negative assessments of Judaism. (See Sevenster, The Roots of Pagan Antisemitism . . . . ) Often, especially in Roman literature of the 1st and 2d centuries, Jews are simply grouped with Greeks, Egyptians, and Syrians as “foreigners,” an expression of Roman xenophobia. On this point, Simon is obviously at odds with the view of Jules Isaac, Gregory Baum, Rosemary Ruether, and others.

The basic source of Greco-Roman anti-Semitism is in the Jewish practice of separatism. This antipathy is to the religion of Judaism itself, since adherence to the Law creates the separation. The political manifestation of this separatism in the revolts of 66-73, 113-115, and 132-135 did not help the Jewish image at all. (Note that for some reason, the second named revolt, involving Cyprus, Cyrene, Alexandria, and Babylon, is seldom even mentioned in the literature.) This pagan reaction to separatism is not really different from the earliest reactions to Christianity.

Greco-Roman anti-Semitism was essentially popular in character. Literary manifestations simply give popular resentment a systematic and learned appearance. Even the considerable attractions exercised on gentiles by Diaspora synagogues failed to eliminate completely the hostility. Pagan anti-Semitism provided the foundation on which later Christian anti-Semitism grew, even though Simon attempts to stress the differences between them. On this (see the Post-Scriptum), Simon is less than clear. Comments:

Using separatism as the fundamental explanation of pagan anti-Semitism is problematic on two accounts, closely related:

1) The texts which speak of Jewish separatism are deeply imbedded within the tradition of pagan anti-Semitism; i.e. they are part of the negative response to Judaism. They may be an expression of anti-Semitism, rather than an explanation. Compare these texts with the Greek ethnographic tradition, which runs through the early Roman period. These authors were acutely aware of the distinctives of Judaism in the Hellenistic world, but do not find them the occasion for negative or hostile judgments. Note especially the treatments of the Essenes, beginning as early as Pliny. Essene distinctives are seen in a manner not at all antipathetic, but warmly positive--as the social expression of an ideal wise community of philosophers.

2) The separatism argument presupposes a view that the Jewish community in the Roman world actually lived separately. Careful attention to the literary, epigraphic, artistic, and archaeological evidence does not support the image of a Judaism cut off from its environment by virtue of steadfast allegiance to rabbinic interpretations of the Law of Moses. The separatism tradition is the product of both the rabbinic tradition and the later traditions of Christian anti-Judaism.

The degree of gentile attraction to Judaism, especially in the late 1^st and early 2^nd centuries, when we might otherwise suppose the appeal of Judaism to have been at its lowest ebb, suggests the need to revise the traditional ratio between hostility and attraction to Judaism in pagan society within the Roman Empire. (Here see the studies by Menachem Stern and Shimon Applebaum in Hebrew, and of Dr. Gager.) If we make this adjustment, two additional aspects of the traditional picture emerge in a new light:

The hostility of some pagan writers needs to be interpreted not so much as an independent reaction to Judaism per se, but more as a response to the expansion of Judaism in gentile circles in a variety of forms. Proselytizing seems to have taken place in all social strata, even to the household of Augustus. This reaction is especially true of Roman writers in the late 1^st and early 2^nd centuries. Juvenal, Quintilian, Martial, and Tacitus were part of a closed circle of like-minded conservatives bent on defending the old ways, and who flourished under Domitian and Trajan.

After all, beginning at the mid-second century, Roman paganism itself was on the defensive, with the emperors providing protection for various non-Roman cults. The high point of opposition to Judaism appears under Domitian, and may have been as much political as religious. Roman public opinion was deeply divided over the question of Judaism. In the minds of many, not even the war of 66-73 established the case that Judaism was incompatible with Romanitas.

Chapter VIII, “Christian Anti-Semitism,” Parts 2 to 5

David P. Efroymson, LaSalle College

(PSCO 19.2; 17 November 1981)

According to Simon, the Christians added their own peculiar twists to ancient Greco-Roman anti-Semitism. However, he seems to juggle the ideas that the Christian version is both clearly different from its ancient predecessor, and that it is in continuity with it. What seems obvious is that Christian anti-Semitism began with a failure of mission to Jews (or perhaps a success of mission to gentiles). That is, it is based both on “Israel's rejection of the Gospel,” and “the need to explain the outright rejection with which Jews greeted the message which was meant for them.” Judaism did not fit into the Christian symbol system. The problem was that the Jews remained Jewish. Simon probably overemphasizes the continuity with ancient pagan negative attitudes toward Judaism, following Juster a bit too much here.

Christian anti-Semitism does have its originality. It subordinates social to religious and moral accusations, and caps it with the use of scripture. It projects the prophetic critiques of Israel, totally out of context, into the present. “Pasting together verses of the Bible,” Christians made of their contemporaries not “the Jew who appeared in front of them,” but “the Jew against whom the Lord had declaimed in the past.”

As an example of this sort of thing, Simon cites John Chrysostom, and particularly his eight homilies against the Jews. These vivid sermons, directed in reality against “Judaizing” Christians, go so far as to accuse the Jews of ritual murder. Chrysostom's attitude was extreme, but hardly unique. Christian anti-Semitism was used to serve theological ends, and was thus given theological backing and encouragement, utilizing a particular kind of exegesis of the biblical writings.

Simon goes on to note some of the practical repercussions and consequences of this sort of thing, leading to the destruction of synagogues and even the adoption of some imperial anti-Jewish legislation. Of course, there were limits. Augustine seemed to think that the Jews should survive, but in misery. All of this testifies to the continuing vitality of Judaism in this era.

This also becomes a sort of test case on the difference between anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism. The former, a religious problem, seems to flow into the latter-- racial, social hatred and its accompanying actions. A good argument can be made that the distinction is a false one, and that the actions cannot be separated from the attitudes, even if they are “merely” religious. On the other hand, the continued existence of Judaism remained a theological affront to Christianity, even if there were a total absence of Jews in the particular community.

Chapter IX, “The Fate of Jewish Christianity”

Ross Kraemer, Stockton State College

(PSCO 18.6; 5 May 1981)

Simon's method in this chapter is not particularly clear.

He begins with definition, but from an arbitrary, if explicable, place; i.e. Christian sources. He sees two types of evidence there for information about Jewish Christianity: the heresiologists and the less systematic witnesses. They do not all agree, reflecting both chronological change and diversity. Probably, the heresiologists are the less trustworthy, possessing no first-hand knowledge of Jewish Christians, but forcing them into their preconceived thought molds. From his sources:

1) Jewish Christianity existed inside, around, and outside Palestine, but is more eastern than western in Europe.

2) There were varieties of Jewish Christianity, just as there were varieties of Judaism. Unfortunately, having said this, Simon then seems to assume a considerably unified Jewish Christianity.

3) Earliest Christianity is by any definition Jewish Christianity. The roots of the split into gentile and Jewish lie in the early dispute, not over the question of the mission to the gentiles, but over the criteria for admission to the church. This is an excellent discussion, noting that the neat compromise in Acts did not hold up, and that Jewish Christians carried on mission among both Jews and gentiles, particularly in areas where Paul had not visited, or had not succeeded.

4) The Ebionites were Jewish Christians in Palestine, but not the only ones there. Thus, this term is misapplied by early Christian writers.

5) The primary characteristic of Jewish Christianity was the combination of Jewish practice with Christian belief, with no uniformity of either.

6) Other features: Hebrew language for ritual, but the use of the Greek OT; a pervasive anti-Paulinism.

Simon then proceeds to examine Jewish evidence, in particular the rabbinic use of the terms minim and posche Israe,l as possible referents to Jewish Christianity. His conclusions here:

1) Minim was used as a term which included Christians generally; i.e., for the rabbis, minim were alien beings.

2) Posche Israel was used by the rabbis to designate “bad Jews, but Jews nevertheless. Simon's opinion here seems at least very strange, if not totally in error.

3) The Ebionites, who rejected the virgin birth and the divinity of Christ, were considered by the rabbis to be posche Israel.

4) The relationships in Palestine between non-Christian and Christian Jews were strained by a number of events, including the death of James, the flight to Pella, the failure of Jewish Christians to support the Bar Cochba rebellion, and the introduction of the liturgical benediction designed to root out Christians. In spite of this, the relations between the two remained cordial for several centuries. The most serious issues here were ritual observance, where some diversity could be tolerated; dogma, in which the central issue was not messianism but the unity of God; and the identification of the Jewish Christians with the people and fate of Israel--the most serious of the issues.

Simon concludes, essentially, that while the position of Jewish Christianity began as primary, it ended, by the 4th or 5th century, by being largely untenable. This was due to a variety of factors. Among them were the increasing move toward orthodoxy in the “great Church” consolidated at Nicaea, coupled with a similar move toward orthodoxy in Judaism (and a decline in the number of varieties of Judaism), and the success of the church in the Roman Empire leading to increasing aggression and intolerance toward Jews. Jewish Christians were thus forced to choose one or the other, with less room for diversity on the margins of either. Simon suggests the possibility that some Jewish Christians might have merged into syncretizing sects.

Before commenting, one should probably mention the Post-Scriptum, where Simon refutes the arguments of Schoeps, Danielou, and Munck (pp. 503-512). He contends that Schoeps is in error to claim that Jewish Christianity was heretical from the start. Simon also rather arbitrarily claims that there is no evidence that the doctrines in the Pseudo-Clemintines were ever in the majority among Jewish Christians. In the text itself, Simon never mentions the Pseudo-Clementines.

Danielou, to Simon, gives too much emphasis to the doctrinal and not enough to the practical. Danielou's definitions of Jewish Christianity are both too simplified and too inclusive, ignoring the diversity of Judaism by focusing on Spätjudentum as the norm. To Simon, Jewish Christianity must be defined, not by thought categories, but by observance of Jewish practice and historic filiation with the synagogue.

Simon feels that Munck rejects the possibility of Jewish proselytizing and assumes that Jewish Christianity had no direct ties to the original Christianity, but developed as a natural response to reading the OT. Simon attacks these views and restates his own.

There are several problems with this chapter, in addition to a less-than-neat methodology. Primary is Simon 's failure to use potentially Jewish Christian sources. (The Pseudo-Clementines come only in the Post-Scriptum. There is no mention of the Kerygmata Petrou, the gospel fragments, the Letter to James, etc.) As a result, he totally avoids the question of self-definition vs. other-definition. He assumes the existence of Jewish Christians from Christian writers, then associates them with certain categories in rabbinic literature. This ignores the fact that there is not manifestly any group in antiquity which declared itself to be Jewish Christian. Modern scholars are interested in “Jewish Christianity” because, in modern terms, they are for the most part mutually exclusive communities.

Perhaps, for Jewish Christianity, the only tangible thing is not ideas but sociological adherence. It is obvious that “normative Judaism” was not so pervasive as some scholars thought it should have been, nor was a “normative” Christianity. This nebulous “Jewish Christianity” may have had some sociological identification of its own, which is not to say that in any given place and time there were three distinct communities, defining themselves against the others. The Jewish community, and even more the Christian community, lacked clarity on various issues. Jewish Christians were not separate, but saw themselves as part of the great tradition.

Simon's Jewish sources also lack breadth. He uses only rabbinic sources and Josephus as evidence for the Jewish perspective. There is certainly a problem here, since there are not a whole lot of other sources. Yet, while Simon chastises Danielou for an arbitrary failure to consider Philo, he does the same thing himself. The problem here is that Simon does not acknowledge the constraint of using only rabbinic sources.

Simon stresses, rightly, that there were a multitude of Jewish Christian communities, perhaps all different. Yet he goes on at various places to speak of Jewish Christianity as a unity, without indicating which, any, or all of the varieties he intends at the time.

In all, Simon offers a fairly traditional, not terribly enlightening treatment of a complex phenomenon, which is at least partly helpful. He struggles to define Jewish Christianity, and recognizes the problems involved. Much of his information is valuable, but he pays virtually no attention to a variety of issues, including the social class and structure of Jewish Christian groups. He is very good as he critiques the views of Jewish Christianity presented by the heresiologists, as he presents patterns of conversion, and as he describes the Peter/Paul/early church problems.

(Chapter IX, “The Fate of Jewish Christianity”)

“Resources for Jewish Christianity in Epiphanius, Panarion 30, on the Ebionites”

Glen Koch, Eastern College

(PSCO 19.3; 2 February 1982)

Epiphanius was born in Palestine early in the 4th century. After living in Egypt with Egyptian monks, he formed a monastery in Eleutheropolis, below Galilee, and was ordained a presbyter there. In 367, he was elected Bishop of Salamis in Cyprus, and remained in that post for 36 years until his death. His two “great” works, both written at the request of his presbyters, are the Ancoratus (“An Exposition of the True Faith”), published in 374, and the Panarion (“Refutation of All Heresies”) in 374-77. He spent his last years embroiled in ecclesiastical controversy and politics.

Scholars seem to have some difficulty finding good words for Epiphanius, seeing him as a man whose erudition far exceeded his intelligence, and who was prejudiced and wholly disorganized. Yet, in his own uncritical and injudicious way, he amassed a quantity of material, including much original source material, unavailable elsewhere. Concerning the Ebionites (Pan 30), he accumulated a series of sources which, with a proper source-critical approach, can lead us to an understanding, if not of the Ebionites, at least of the processes of heresiological techniques. Methodology is extremely important here. There are “gems” available, if we can only find them.

A good Traditiongeschichte of the Ebionites is found in A. F. J. Klijn and G. J. Keinink, Patristic Evidence for Jewish-Christian Sects. From it, we can obtain a general outline of the “contributions” of Epiphanius' predecessors concerning the Ebionites.

The first account of the Ebionites comes from Irenaeus, who links Cerinthus, Carpocrates, and the Ebionites. These Ebionites used a Gospel of Matthew, but denied the virgin birth, and believed in the divine creation of the world. They were circumcised, kept the Law, and turned to Jerusalem to pray, while repudiating Paul because he abandoned the Law.

Tertullian adds no real information, but does identify “Ebion” as the founder of the sect--a supposition based on other heresies which were named after their founders. Thus, in the 3d century, the Semitic root of “Ebionite” was unrecognized.

Hippolytus discusses Ebionite Christianity, associating it closely with that of Cerinthus. Otherwise, he adds nothing new.

Pseudo-Tertullian calls “Ebion” the “successor” to Cerinthus, which he probably deduced from the happenstance that Cerinthus comes before the Ebionites in the heresiological lists, as well as the connections made by Hippolytus.

Origen is the first to clearly articulate two different Ebionite groups, separated by their acceptance or rejection of the virgin birth. He is also the first to recognize that “Ebionite” meant “poor,” but points out that it refers to the poverty of their intellect. He also points out the existence of a “Gospel according to the Hebrews,” but does not identify it as Ebionite.

Eusebius of Caesarea refines the differences between the groups of Ebionites. He claims they used the Gospel of the Hebrews, and that they observed both the Sabbath and Sunday.

In using all this material, Epiphanius follows the received order of heresies, as used by Irenaeus, Hippolytus, ps-Tertullian, and Filaster, but he inserts between Cerinthians and Ebionites a Jewish Christian heresy called the Nazorenes, as distinct from the Nasarenes, a pre-Christian Jewish sect. The Nazorenes are somehow associated with the Cerinthians. They also called themselves “Jessaioi.” The Nazorenes adhered to the Law, the Sabbath, and circumcision; spoke Hebrew and read their scriptures in it. Their Christology was Cerinthian. They used the “Gospel of Matthew” in the Hebrew language, but Epiphanius had obviously never seen a copy.

Epiphanius gives most of this information for the Ebionites as well, so that it is difficult to deny confusion on his part. Marcel Simon, in his ninth chapter, uses this description of the Nazarenes as a basis for his discussion of the Ebionites, which may have some validity.

In Pan 30, Epiphanius gives a rather detailed description of Ebionite beliefs and practices--too detailed to outline here. Perhaps we could present some of his more original contributions:

Ebion is to be associated with the Samaritans, the Jews, the Ossenes, Nazorenes, Cerinthians, Carpocratians, Nasarenes, and even Christians. This makes it rather difficult to distinguish the groups in Epiphanius' eyes.

There were also close associations with Elxaius, both in the assertion that the Christ has come several times in the prophets and finally in Jesus, and in the use of Elxaic incantations. According to Epiphanius, Ebionites held that Christ was a gigantic image invisible to humans but having specific dimensions, and the Holy Spirit was his female counterpart.

Ebionites used the Gospel of Matthew in an incomplete and falsified form, but call it the Gospel according to the Hebrews. Examples from the book are given. They also use other books, including the Clementine Periodoi Petrou, the Anabathmoi Jacobou, and an uncanonical Acts of the Apostles. The ps-Clementine materials Epiphanius cites are in several ways contradictory to other traditions he uses for the Ebionites, but he does not seem to be aware of their incompatibility.

The seven fragments from the “Gospel according to the Hebrews” show an affinity for Marcan language and a lack of congruity with the canonical Matthew. They use all major text types, with “Western” readings predominating. They reveal a community engaged in apologetics and polemics with both Jews and Christians, using texts or traditional hermeneutical devices currently in use. Their picture of the Ebionites stands much closer to the viewpoints found in the ps-Clementine sources than do other patristic sources. It may very well be that Epiphanius' understanding of the Ebionites is derived almost wholly from his literary pursuits, including the ps-Clementine. There is really no way to know if the fragments are really Ebionite. They could even be a variant textual tradition in the canonical literature, with some sectarian interest.

As for Marcel Simon's Chapter IX, it should be said that Simon is probably quite correct in his understanding of the diversity within Jewish Christianity, possibly even shown by Epiphanius in his overlapping discussions of Nazorenes and Ebionites. Simon's typology of three different kinds of Jewish Christianity is rather helpful. The whole definition problem keeps coming back.

Simon is also helpful in his attitude toward the heresiological lists. Their taxonomy of relationships is quite simplistic at times, and does not help to establish historical understanding of the differentiation between groups. Simon successfully separates those sources outside of the lists, generally both independent and eastern. His attempts to understand the Jewish Christianity of the early 2d century using Ignatius and Justin is quite helpful.

An interesting insight is Simon's suggestion that one reason for the failure of Jewish Christianity as a middle group between the synagogue and the church is that it had no unifying religious authority.. The lack of “bishops” gave it no authority between the partiarchate/rabbinate and the episcopate, dooming it to failure. (This may be an overstatement, considering our real lack of knowledge about the groups to begin with.)

Simon places too much emphasis on the doctrinal “poverty” of the Ebionites and other Jewish Christian groups. He seems to posit a sort of evolutionary scheme for Christian doctrinal development in which the Jewish Christians did not participate. Yet, he also indicates some sort of Jewish Christian development, sometimes into heresies.

Simon seems to assume some sort of continuity between his first and third categories of Jewish Christians: the Palestine groups and the sectarians of Epiphanius' day. Note, however, the studies of Leander Keck which show that such a linear continuity is beyond proof. (“The Poor among the Saints in the NT,” ZNW 56 [1965], 100-129; “The Poor among the Saints in Jewish Christianity and Qumran,” ZNW 57 [1966], 54-78.)

Simon uses Pan 29 on the Nazorenes as a basis for his understanding of the Ebionites, and Pan 30 on the Ebionites for information on the heretical gnosticising groups. This is a gross oversimplification, and simply will not hold up.

Chapter X, “Jewish Proselytism”

Martha Himmelfarb, Princeton University

(PSCO 18.6; 5 May 1981)

In order to appreciate this chapter, it is necessary to realize that Simon is much concerned with the “standard” view of Jewish proselytization as set forth, for instance, by Duchesne, in which Judaism responded to the events of' 70 and 135 by becoming absorbed in the contemplation of the Law, with no further interest in the outside world. For us, this “old” view seems so obviously wrong that it is hard to appreciate Simon's sense of battle. Nevertheless, as we shall see, Simon remains under the influence of this type of view, at least in its themes, if not in its timing. He begins his chapter by attempting to prove the potential for Jewish proselytizing, and then goes on to demonstrate that there was actual proselytization. This methodology seems a bit confusing, making the chapter somewhat difficult to follow.

The potential for proselytizing existed because: a) Post 70 pagans were not filled with hatred for Judaism, and the anti-Jewish laws (e.g. against circumcision for gentiles) were often not enforced. b) The universalist nature of Hellensitic Judaism made it quite open to proselytizing. c) Even the rabbis, on the whole, were not unfavorable to proselytizing. The oft-cited statement by R. Helbo, comparing proselytizers to lepers, was not typical. In the Post-Scriptum, Simon cites the works of Braude and Bamberger (p. 484), who saw the rabbis to be overwhelmingly favorable to proselytizing.

As for the actual practice of proselytizing, Simon cites Rabbinic, Roman, and Christian sources as to its existence. Basing his arguments on Tertullian and Chrysostom, he feels that the single most important element of Jewish propaganda was the attractiveness of its ritual. That is, the proselytizing seems more passive than active, and was obviously not missionary in the same sense as was Christianity. It is on the question of how long it took for Judaism to become nonmissionary that Simon places his great emphasis. Contrary to Duchesne, he sees Judaism proselytizing into the 4th and even 5th centuries, as based on the presence of conciliar laws against it. The change came with the end of the use of Greek in the synagogues. The new use of the Hebrew language became an almost insurmountable obstacle to non-Jews. The change became “cause and consequence at the same time” (p. 342), as Judaism turned to contemplate the Law.

Simon sees Jewish proselytizing continuing even to the 9th century in North Africa. He refers to his article on “Le Judaïsme berbère dans l'Afrique ancienne” (RHPR 26 [1946], 1-31), in which he presents a hypothetical reconstruction of how some Berber tribes became Jewish, based on a common language type, and a common protest against Roman order. Simon argues that Jewish refugees went from Palestine to Cyrenea, and then fled to the edges of the Roman Empire after the provincial revolt of 117. He argues for the messianic nature of Berber Judaism on the basis of one inscription, which is not even clearly Jewish. Strangely, while the Berber connection may seem a bit problematic, much can be said about the prestige of Judaism in pre-Islamic North Africa, from South Arabia to Ethiopia.

Simon's conclusion: “Between the Hellenistic spirit which culminates in Philo and the final turning to contemplation marked by the Talmud and completed around the 9th century, [there is] an intermediate state: one in which Judaism, turned away from the Roman world by the misfortunes of Palestine, pushed out of its Mediterranean positions by triumphant Christianity ,... tries to become . . . the religion of the Semites and their relatives.”

It is clear that Simon sees himself in opposition to the school represented by Duchesne. However, he accepts Duchesne's terminology to a large extent, which may lead to somewhat of an oversimplification. We tend now to see greater nuance in the Hellenistic/Palestinian rabbinic distinction. The terminology is misleading in a number of ways. The view that universalism leads to proselytization more than does particularism seems more than a little misguided in terms of theology. Simon even recognizes this at one point (p. 327), where he describes the missionary possibilities of Jewish particularism as similar to those of Christianity. It is, in fact, quite possible to argue the reverse of his distinction-that it is particularism which proselytizes, since it feels that it has the “truth,” while universalism approaches the world with less missionary zeal. A universalist/particularist distinction between Christianity and Judaism is deeply rooted in much of traditional scholarship on Judaism and early Christianity. Judaism, for the most part, does not really fit the description.

Simon accepts Duchesne's argument that Judaism turns contemplative (se replie), but changes only the date. In the Post-Scriptum, he mentions a thesis by Bernard Blumenkrantz (p. 486), in response to this book, defending the missionary endeavors of the Jews up to the Crusades. Simon rejects the argument a priori. However, if the real issue is one of influence on the outside world rather than that of proselytization, then Blumenkrantz has certainly made his case.

Simon places great importance on the issue of language, giving a long and almost irrelevant discussion of the attitude toward Greek within Judaism. He insists that the synagogue ritual is the primary mode of propaganda, which is the reason that language is so important. It is not clear, however, why ritual in Hebrew cannot be attractive to gentiles. Simon himself gives examples which undercut his case here. A good argument can be made for Jewish communities, e.g. in Byzantium, where the common language was certainly Greek, and the Jews themselves probably did not really understand the synagogue ritual. It may be that for Simon, language is symbolic of something larger, in which Greek turns outward to the world, and Hebrews turns inward toward its own.

Simon gives some good beginnings toward discussion of the social function of Judaism, particularly as a protest religion for the Berbers and the pre-Christian Romans. It might be productive to work on its social function with Roman upper classes as well as the lower, and its similarities with Tacitus' republican conservatism.

(Chapter X, “Jewish Proselytism”)

“A Proposal for Further Investigation”

Ross Kraemer, Stockton State College

(PSCO 19.4; 30 March 1982)

The discussion of Jewish proselytism is an entry into the study of a larger (or smaller) topic: the specific role of women in ancient Judaism. Despite the strong male orientation of Judaism, both cultically and theologically, several ancient sources suggest that in the Greco-Roman period, there were significant numbers of women converts to Judaism. What would have been the appeal of Judaism to these women? Were there significant numbers of woman converts as compared to men, and if so, to what may we attribute this? If there existed within ancient Judaism elements which held strong appeal for women, might this not require us to reassess our understanding of the varieties of Judaism in the Greco-Roman period? This report is not an answer to these questions, but rather a preliminary guide to further study in the matter.

Begin with the standard scholars. G. F. Moore (I, 326) writes that “Women in general, partly from excess of religiousness, partly because they had no public religious duties, were in the large majority among these adherents of Judaism [i.e. God-fearers], and a still larger proportion, doubtless, of the proselytes.” He then goes on to devote some 30 Pages to proselytes, tacitly assuming that they were male, and even defining a proselyte as “a man who has adopted Jewish law,” etc. (P. 328). At the same time, he is quite wrong in declaring that the majority of proselytes were women.

H. A. Leon, in The Jews of Ancient Rome (p. 256) notes the preponderance of women in the conversion inscriptions (see below), and says it was easier and more likely for women to convert, both because of the different requirements for conversion for women than for men, and because “the ancient Roman women, not unlike the women of other periods and nations, were more prone than the men to become interested in foreign cults.” The first reason is rather obvious, since circumcision was not an issue for women; the second sounds familiar from other sources (see below).

Marcel Simon, in the chapter being considered, seems to assume that converts to Judaism were male. He only notes the preponderance of women in the conversion inscriptions in a footnote, and suggests an explanation: If, after 70, the Romans were on the watch for Jewish converts, the surveillance would have been most effective in Rome. Since most of the extant proselyte inscriptions came from Roman catacombs, it would seem that in the case of men, converts would have been vulnerable, and loathe to admit their proselyte status. This is indeed a strange argument, assuming that dead men were more vulnerable than dead women. On the other hand, Roman law seemed certainly to be concerned about the religious status of men, even, to the point of forbidding the circumcision of non-Jews, but left women the freedom to convert. Citizenship, which involved adherence to the emperor cult, concerned only males. It may have been that religious diversity was considered more acceptable for women than for men.

The sources about female conversion to Judaism are varied, and sometimes a bit sparse. In Frey's collection of Jewish inscriptions, a total of 13 refer to proselytes or metuens/tes. Of these, ten are from women's epigraphs. Although Leon rejects the four inscriptions which use metuens, that still leaves a heavy preponderance of women. Of course, one problem with these inscriptions is their small number. Simon cautions that we should not conclude that proselytism was relatively unsuccessful from the small number, and gives the explanation we have considered. Leon suggests that the preponderance of Latin inscriptions might suggest that converts were from the Romanized elements of the community; or it might be due to chance, considering the small number. We should note, however, that in general, funeral inscriptions in antiquity are heavily skewed toward the men, showing either an uneven sex distribution (the result of female infanticide) or simply the idea that women were not as important.

Literary sources for women's conversion: Josephus speaks of Fulvia, wife of Saturninus, senator (Ant. 18.82-83); Helena, Queen of Adiabene; and the women of Damascus War 2.559-561). The latter speaks of a plot to kill the Jews in which the men of Damascus had difficulty participating because their wives had converted to Judaism. It should be noted that while Constantine forbade marriage between Jewish men and Christian women, he said nothing about Jewish women and Christian men.

Dio (Hist. Rom. 67.14) speaks of the conversion of Flavia Domitilla. This is sometimes said to be a conversion to Christianity, but the context most certainly does not bear this out.

Rabbinic sources are extensive, but not yet investigated. Christian sources (e.g. Acts) speak of women who became Jews, then Christians, in a double conversion. The papyri might also be helpful here, since most of the other literary evidence is from areas other than Egypt.

Both the ancients and more modern scholars speak of women being more “religious” than men in a pejorative sense, as though “religious” meant “irrational.” Celsus, Lucian, etc. suggest that a problem with Christianity is its appeal to women and children. However, pagans who did not like Jews (e.g. Juvenal) do not mention the appeal to women as an argument.

We need to analyze what sorts of Judaism women might have been converted to, and under what circumstances. Analyzing the inscriptions and the papyri might give us some help in demographics: age, marital status, etc. A whole avenue of research is open.

Chapter XII, “Superstition and Magic”

Eugene Gallagher, Connecticut College

(PSCO 18.3; 27 January 1981)

Simon's treatment of magic and superstition supports and reflects his thesis that Judaism, far from having faded away, provided a real, active, and often effective alternative to Christianity in the period from 135 to 425. He begins with the familiar assertion that magic and superstition were integral and important elements of the ancient view of the world. The first section needs little correction. Recent surveys by David Aune, Norbert Brox, Ramsey MacMullen, and Morton Smith reinforce his point, as well as does an earlier encyclopedia article by Henri Hubert somehow overlooked by Simon. On specifically Jewish matters, there is important work by E. R. Goodenough, John Gager, and Judah Goldin.

In his second section, Simon outlines the specific character and widespread influence of Jewish magic. Jewish elements are an important part of ancient magic, probably because of the aura of impenetrable mystery in the Hebrew language, as well as the immense prestige of the name of God in Judaism. Simon finds the influence of a “degraded Judaism” (p. 405) to be virtually inescapable in the ancient world, and describes it as a “virus” (p. 405) and a “contagion” (p. 416). Such imagery would indicate that Simon may share to a degree the bias of the “orthodox” opponents of magic, even though he attempts to see with the eyes of an historian. On some of Simon's specific points, see G. M. Parassoglou's article and the studies by N. Brox and A. J. Festugière.

Origen implicitly confirms the reputations of Jews as magicians, including: the high and virtually universal esteem in which the Jewish names for God were held; the inclusion of Jewish elements in the common fund of Hellenistic magic; the negative connotations of “magic” per se; the significant attraction of at least some forms of magic for the better educated; and the direct interchange of magical elements between Judaism and Christianity.

In his third section, Simon attempts to trace the influence of Jewish magic, largely upon Christianity, in its several forms. These are: 1) magic of purely monotheistic inspiration; 2) Judeo-pagan syncretism; and 3) Judeo-Christian syncretism. His general case for the interchange of magical elements among Jews, pagans, and Christians seems secure, although his designation of specific texts to particular categories can be at least questionable.

In section four, Simon discusses the Christian defense against the “contagion” of the magic of “degraded Judaism.” He focuses his attention on Syria, imperial legislation, and the practice of healing. In Syria, both Isaac of Antioch and John Chrysostom fought against Judaizing tendencies in the Christian communities. Even though Christians tended to identify Jews and magicians, there is a clear distinction in imperial law. Both are recognized as offenders, but different punishments were stipulated. Diviners and magicians were perceived as direct threats to the emperor, whereas Jewish proselytizers were not. As regards healing, Simon claims that Christians developed and sanctioned alternatives to “the fire of fever and that of hell” (p. 424) in their image of the healing Christ and in the cults of the saints.

Throughout the chapter, Simon pursues two related aims. On the one hand, he wants to identify the contribution of Judaism to ancient magic in general and to Christianity in particular. By showing that interchange took place on this level, he intends to support his primary thesis that Judaism remained a real, active, and effective rival to Christianity. On the other hand, he discusses the reputation of Jews as magicians, and the Christian response to and development of that reputation. He is not particularly clear about what type of social, historical, and religious information might be gleaned from ancient polemics about magic, although current work on ancient magic gives the polemical dimension greater weight. See the work of Peter Brown, Lewis Coser, and F. G. Bailey. Polemics is a process of self-definition through accusation and response, and tells a great deal about the contacts and syncretisms which had taken place. Simon feels that the attraction of Judaism for Christians (and non-Christians) was its promise of magical power. Christian theologians stigmatized the Jews as demonic magicians, whose religion had been robbed of all value after they murdered the Christ. The accusations became all the more shrill and insistent because of the undeniable attraction and appropriation of Jewish magical elements, as Chrysostom's homilies indicate.

Another point at which Simon's presentation begs clarification is his attribution of an interest in magic primarily to the lower classes. Simon appears to have an evolutionary assumption about religious beliefs, that they inevitably develop from simple to more complex, from “lower” to “higher,” and from “degraded” to more appropriately “spiritual” forms. The association of magic with the lower classes, however, seems to be at odds with his opening contention that magic was to be found at all levels of ancient society. Simon may actually be giving too much historical weight to a common polemical tactic. Celsus, for instance, by associating magic with inferior social status, attempts to consign Jesus to the lower classes by his use of magic (Contra Celsum I.28).

“Post-Scriptum”

John A. White, LaSalle College

(PSCO 18.1; 30 September 1980)

In his 1964 “'Post-Scriptum,” Simon discusses several topics from his 1948 text in the light of more recent criticism or scholarly publication. This chapter has six parts, but, much in the style of the original text, it runs from one subject to another without clear division of subject matter.

I. Jewish Iconography. Simon would amend a bit of his picture of Judaism, based on the Qumran discoveries. He tends to dismiss the influence of the Essenes, however, since they were gone from the picture as an organized group by 70 C.E. (This ignores the parallels to Qumran materials in the Didache, which is cited frequently in Verus Israel.)

Simon comments on an article by Maurice Liber, who seems to deny that Dura-Europos could possibly reflect an authentic traditional Jewish position. Simon feels that real proof of either orthodoxy or heterodoxy would be equally difficult. Likewise, Simon comments on a study by A. Ferrua, where “proof” is given that no Jewish iconography antedates the origins of Christian art. Simon feels that such a conclusion should be more tentative. Although Jewish iconography cannot clearly be shown to pre-date Christian, no dependency can be shown.

II. Proselytism. In his Chapter I, Simon had discussed Matthew 23:15 in relation to Jewish proselytism, and saw it as evidence of Christian irritation at the zeal of rabbinic proselytizing. In the Post-Scriptum, he adds that it also may allude to the proselytizing efforts which led to the conversion of pagan princes who married princesses in Herod's family. (This does seem a bit bazarre. Not much evidence is given.) Simon then engages in dialogue with J. Munck over whether missionary Judaism ever really existed. To Simon, Munck seems to argue that there were numbers of proselytes, but no proselytizing, and presents no evidence to support his paradoxical position. “The verse in question, which [Munck] finds obscure, continues to appear clear enough to me” (p. 483).

Simon is quite properly outraged by the remark of Fridrichsen, cited by Munck in Paulus, which contrasts “Jewish expansionism” and “Synagogal imperialism” with “the true mission in view of the Kingdom of God.” This is, to Simon, “subtle anti-Semitism.”

III. Anti-Semitism. Dom Botte objects to Simon's using the term “anti-Semitism” applied to the church fathers, since the term has a racist application. Simon agrees that Chrysostom, e.g., was certainly not a racist. However, if the term includes “a fundamentally and systematically hostile attitude toward Jews, founded in addition on bad reasoning, on calumnies, on an incomplete image, partial, or false to reality,” then it fits.

Simon does agree, however, for the most part that “for the church at any time, a Jew was defined by his religion. If he converted, he ceased to be a Jew.” Thus, historians ought not to impute to Christianity the essentially lay racial anti-Semitism of Nazism, with its hostility to Christian ideology. Simon refuses, however, to totally distinguish between anti-Semitism and anti-Judaism, since they have tended to overlap on occasion through the centuries.

IV. Jews and the Roman Empire. Rome's attitude toward the Jews and Judaism was (apart from the two wars) tolerant and relatively benevolent. Y. F. Baer sees Christians and Jews teaming up as a monotheistic team against paganism. Simon sees a common anti-pagan polemic, but does not follow Baer in positing various anti-Jewish (as well anti-Christian) persecutions in the 3d century. The period after 135, Simon argues, was not one in which Jews and Christians were linked in mortal combat against pagan Rome, but a period in which the protection of the Roman laws assured peace to Judaism.

V. Minim. Simon agrees with an independent work of K. G. Kuhn that the term minim gradually developed, by the 3d century, into its meaning of “gentile Christians.” Jewish Christians were not minim, but were only temporarily straying sheep.

VI. Jewish Christianity. While conceding that in Verus Israel he may have overstated a connection between gnosticism and Judaism or Jewish Christianity, Simon proceeds to take on J. Daniélou. He finds Daniélou's categories of Jewish Christianity far too unyielding, but even more finds the distinguishing characteristic of apocalyptic both too wide and too narrow. It is too narrow because it would posit no Jewish Christianity until after the apostolic period; and too wide in that it seems obvious that there can be Jewish Christianity without apocalyptic, and apocalyptic which is not Jewish Christian.

Simon resumes his attack on Munck, who seems to believe that Jewish Christianity did not survive the year 70, and denies the migration to Pella. (See here Simon's article in the Daniélou festschrift, Judéo-christianisme, 37-54.) Munck denies any missionary activity among Jews. Simon concludes that it is necessary to distinguish between two things that Munck often confuses: Judaizing movements in the precise sense of that term, and Frükatholizismus, which is the introduction of a legalistic spirit into church practice analogous to Judaism, but not Jewish Christianity. True Jewish Christianity has three distinguishing Jewish forms: circumcision (sometimes lacking), baptism, and direct apostolic authority.

PSCO Appendix, “Issues Since World War II”

John Gager, Princeton University

(PSCO 19.1; 6 October 1981)

Probably no field of Biblical studies has felt the impact of World War II more than the study of relations between Judaism and Christianity, specifically the study of Christian views of Jews and Judaism. The experience of the Holocaust has reintroduced the issue of whether in its essence, from its very beginnings, Christianity was the primary maker of anti-Semitism in Western culture. So overwhelming was the preoccupation with the Holocaust and its historical sources, that for a while anti-Semitism was seen as the single, overriding concern in the study of pagan and Christian views of Judaism in the ancient world. Recent approaches have broadened the question, concentrating on particular authors, specific geographical regions and historical periods, on the social context of Jewish-Christian interaction, or on studies of attitudes toward Judaism in the modern period as they shed light on earlier periods.

With the publication of Jésus et Israel (1948) and Genèse de l'antisémitism; (1956), Jules Isaac inaugurated a new era in the study of pagan and Christian views of Judaism. Jésus et Israel consists of 21 propositions. Propositions 1-10 refute the traditional view of Judaism as a moribund religion at the time of Jesus and demonstrate the fundamentally Jewish character of primitive Christianity. Propositions 11-13, by contrasting passages from the canonical gospels with modern Christian interpretations, argue that the Jews have been wrongly blamed for the rejection and crucifixion of Jesus. Propositions 16-20 demonstrate that these modern texts reflect a long-established indictment of all Jews for the crime of deicide. Proposition 21 states that neither Jesus nor the Jews of his time rejected each other, and that the people of Israel are totally innocent of the crimes of which Christian tradition accuses them. Genèse de l'antisémitisme added that pre-Christian pagan anti-Semitism was not really a factor in later Christian anti-Semitism.

Isaac's work laid the blame for anti-Semitism fully and squarely at the door of Christianity, and argued that anti-Semitism is a misinterpretation by Christians of their own scriptures and founder. It also narrowed the ensuing debate almost exclusively to the topic of anti-Semitism and its Christian sources.

Until quite recently, Marcel Simon's Verus Israel has dominated the study which Isaac inaugurated. Simon has covered every facet of nascent Christianity and its interactions with Judaism in the Roman Empire. He carefully distinguishes two concepts: anti-Jewish polemic, the ideological conflict in which Christianity sought to define its originality and defend its legitimacy against the claims of Judaism; and Christian anti-Semitism, born of the later Jewish refusal of Christian claims, and expressing itself increasingly as hostility toward Jews in general. Christian anti-Semitism reaches back as far as the Gospel of John, and attained its fullest expression in the 4th century. After that, it became the ideological justification for the destruction of synagogues and for anti-Jewish legislation. Simon's basic argument is that behind all of this was the enduring religious vitality and appeal of Judaism in the later Roman Empire. This amounts to standing the traditional view of Judaism in late antiquity squarely on its head.

Among the many virtues of Verus Israel is the extensive “Post-Scriptum” which Simon added in 1964. In it, he answers his critics and reflects further on specific issues, but changes nothing of substance. He comments on Isaac's work, particularly on his view of the importance of pagan anti-Semitism, and of the difference between anti-Semitism and anti-Jewish polemic, although the distance between them is not particularly great.

Gregory Baum, in The Jews and the Gospel, distinguishes sharply between what he calls the legitimate, theological anti-Judaism of the NT and modern, racial anti-Semitism, arguing that the former is not the starting point of the latter. The secular political and social tensions within the Christian Middle Ages brought about the distortion of NT passages by the church. However, because of the growing pressure of Isaac's work, Baum has subsequently all but abandoned his attempts to defend the NT against the charge that its writings reflect a fundamental hostility toward Jews and Judaism.

Rosemary Ruether, in Faith and Fratricide: the Theological Roots of Anti-Semitism, follows the authors already cited in her theological motivation and her literary and historical analytic method. But, unlike the earlier critics of Isaac, Ruether not only embraces his basic position, but moves beyond it on the inseparability of anti-Semitism and historical Christianity. She follows Isaac in asserting that Christian attitudes toward the Jews are different from and independent of pagan sources. Instead, they rise from “the theological dispute . . . over the messiahship of Jesus,” and the image of Judaism as a continuing threat to the validity of Christianity itself.

Ruether recognizes the formal distinction between anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism, but also asserts that anti-Judaism “constantly takes social expression in anti-Semitism,” thereby reducing the distinction to a literary formality. Moreover, anti-Judaism is “an intrinsic need of Christian self-affirmation . . . . a part of Christian exegesis.”

Her views have not gone unchallenged. Various Biblical scholars have contested Ruether's claim that the writings of the NT reveal en bloc a systematic connection between anti-Judaism and all forms of early Christian messianic theology. Her critics stress that messianic Christology alone cannot account for, nor necessarily entail, anti-Judaism. Running through their arguments is the distinction between anti-Judaism, which has its origin in the canonical writings, and anti-Semitism, which denigrates Judaism as such. It should be noted that the distance between Ruether and her critics is not great. She has readily conceded that by itself, allegiance to Jesus as Messiah, i.e. some from of Christological reflection, will not explain Christian anti-Judaism in its strong sense. There is required some sort of trigger-mechanism which propels loyalty to Jesus into Christian anti-Judaism. Even the theme of Jewish rejection of Jesus cannot operate as more than a contributing factor in the metamorphosis.

There have been interesting attempts to argue that the canonical gospels preserve traditions which would require modification of Ruether's views. In particular, Douglas Hare's article in Anti-Semitism and the Foundations of Christianity (ed. A. T. Davies) distinguishes three types of anti-Judaism in early Christian literature: 1) Prophetic antiJudaism, typical of conversionist movements within Judaism from prophetic times, “belongs to the essence of the Jesus movement from its inception, and had nothing to do with Christology.” 2) Jewish-Christian anti-Judaism builds on the prophetic tradition, and adds the refusal to acknowledge the crucial importance for salvation history of the crucified Jesus as an element which motivates efforts to convert other Jews. 3) Gentilizing anti-Judaism holds that God has finally and irrevocably rejected his people and created a new people. Unfortunately, Hare's first category can lead to confusion, since the term “prophetic anti-Judaism” seems to imply something outside of the tradition, rather than within. It would be similar to calling Luther's quarrel with the church “anti-Christianity.”

Despite the warnings of G, F. Moore in 1921, Christian interest in Jewish literature has remained apologetic or polemical until very recent times. Simon was one of the first to treat Judaism as an attractive and lively competitor of Christianity in the late Roman Empire, followed by B. Blumenkranz (Juifs et Chrétiens dans le monde occidental [1960]). Nevertheless, in Anti-Judaism in Christian Theology (1975, trans. 1978), Charlotte Klein notes with dismay that the presentation of Judaism in general introductions and specialized treatments has hardly changed since Schürer and Bousset. This tradition of scholarship is incomprehensible unless we presuppose that it has been shaped by a systematic anti-Judaism: first, by taking the image of Judaism in early Christian writings at face value and failing to recognize the anti-Judaism behind the image; and second, by perpetuating the anti-Judaism of later Christianity which requires a negative image of Judaism for its own theological legitimacy. Moore pointed out that Catholicism is often projected onto Judaism by Protestant scholars and attacked in that guise; equally so with Lutherans working out the antithesis between Law and Gospel. Interestingly, tendencies of anti-Judaism can even be seen in translations of certain key passages in the RSV.

Anti-Judaism can also be seen in treatments of Jewish separateness in recent studies of pagan anti-Semitism. The alleged separatism of Jews in the Greco-Roman world is largely a myth, inasmuch as such supposed separateness is at least as much a pretext as a cause of local tensions in Diaspora Judaism. The Jews in question were usually among the least “separate.”

Bibliographical Addenda to Simon, Verus Israel

David P Efroymson, LaSalle College

Eugene Gallagher, Connecticut College

I. General: Jewish-Christian Relations

Baum, G. The Jews and the Gospel; A Re-Examination of the New Testament. London: Bloomsbury Publ. Co., 1961. (Revised edition: Is the New Testament Anti-Semitic? New York: Paulist Press, 1965

Blumenkkranz, B. Juifs et Chrétiens dans the Monde Occidental. Paris-La Haye: Mouton, 1960.

Davies, Alan T. AntiSemitism and the Origins of Christianity. N.Y.: Paulist, 1979 (esp. 1-117: Meagher, Hare, Gaston, Townsend, Efroymson).

Flannery, E. H. The Anguish of the Jews. N.Y.: Macmillan, 1965 (ref’s to Simon: “Jewish”).

Goldschmidt, D. and Kraus, H. J. Der Ungekündigte Bund. Neue Begegnung. . . . Stuttgart: Kreuz, 1962.

Isaac, J. Genèse de l’antisémitisme. Paris: Calmann-Lévy, 1956

_____. Jésus et Israël. Paris: Fasquelle, 1958. (English translation: Jesus and Israel. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971.)

Judant, D. Judaïsme et Christianisme; Dossier Patristique. Paris: Cedre, 1969 (Intro by Bp. Carli!)

Marsch, W. D. and Thieme, K., eds. Christen und Juden; Ihr Gegenüber von Apostelkonzil bis heute. Mainz: M. Grunewald, 1961.

Rengstorf, K. H. and Kortzvfleisch, S. von. Kirche und Synagogue. 2 vol. Stuffgart: E. Klett, 1968-70.

Reuther, R. Faith and Fratricide. N.Y.: Seabury, 1974

Schoeps, H. J. The Jewish-Christian Argument; A History of Theologies in Conflict. N.Y.: Holt, Reinhart, and Winston, 1963.

Simon, M. and Benoit, A. Le Judaïsme et le Christianisme Antique. Paris: Presses Universitaires, 1968.

Wilken, R. L. “Judaism in Roman and Christian Society.” In J.R. (1967), 313-30.

Other Surveys in Murray, Neusner, Wilde.

II. Selected works on first century relations (i.e. pre 135 C.E.)

Eckert/Levinson/Stohr. Antijudaismus in neuem Testament? Munich: Kaiser, 1967 (see also Sandmel).

Forkman, G. The Limits of the Religious Community: Expulsion from the Religious Community in Rabbinic Judaism and Primitive Christianity. Lund: Gleerup, 1972.

Gärtner, B. The Temple and the Commuity in Qumran and the NT. SNTS/MS 1. Cambridge: UP, 1965.

Klein, Charlotte. Anti-Judaism in Christian Theology. Phila.: Fortress, 1977 (on scholarship, mostly German).

Richardson, P. Israel in the Apostolic Church. SNTS/MS 10. Cambridge: UP, 1969.

Theissen, G. Sociology of Early Palestinian Christianity. Phila.: Fortress, 1978.

On Paul:

Sanders, E. P. Paul and Palestinian Judaism. Phila.: Fortress, 1977.

On Maththew:

Hare, D. R. A. The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in . . . Matthew. SNT/MS 6. Cambridge: UP, 1967.

See also: Bornkamm/Barth/Held: Trilling; Hummel.

On John:

Martyn, J. L. History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel. Nashville: Abingdon, 2^nd ed., 1979.

_____. The Gospel of John in Christian History. N.Y.: Paulist, 1979.

Pancaro, S. The Law in the Fourth Gospel. Leiden: Brill, 1975.

Klijn, A. F. J. “The Study of Jewish Christianity.” NTS 20 (1974), 419-31.

________. And Reinink, G. J. Patristic Evidence for Jewish Christian Sects. Leiden: Brill, 1973.

Ludemann, G. “The Successors of Pre-70 Jerusalem Christianity. A Critical Evaluation of the Pella-Tradition.” (pp. 161-173), in E. P. Sanders, ed., Jewish and Christian Self-Definition. I: The Shaping of Christianity in the Second and Third C’s. Phila.: Fortress, 1980.

Manns, F. Bibliographie du Jueéo-Christianisme. (Studium Biblicum Franciscum/Analecta 13) Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1979.

Martyn, J. L. The Gospel of John in Christian History (above). 55-89 and 122-47 (=art. from Dahl Fest. on Clem. Recog. 1,33-71).

Quispel, G. “The Discussion of Judaic Christianity.” VC 22 (1968), 81-93.

Roberts, Colin H. Manuscript, Society, and Belief in Early Christian Egypt. London: Oxford, 1979 (C. 3, pp. 49-73: Early Egyptian Church Jewish-Christian, not gnostic).

Schoeps, H. J. Jewish Christianity; Factional Disputes in the Early Church. Phila.: Fortress, 1969.

Simon, M. “The Apostolic Decree and its Setting in the Ancient Church.” BJRL 1970, 437-60.

_____. “Reflexions sur le Judéo-Christianisme.” Judaism, Christianity, and Other Greco-Roman Cults. (M. Smith Fest.) Ed. J. Neusner (above) 53-76.

Strecker, G. “Kerygmata Petrou,” in NT Apocrypha II (1965), 102-27.

_____. “On the Problem of Jewish Christianity.” Appendix I in W. Bauer, Orthodosy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity. Phila.: Fortress, 1971, 241-85.

Taylor, R. E. “Attitudes of the Fathers toward Practices of Jewish Christians.” Studia Patristica IV, 2 (1961), 504-11.

Vielhauer, P. “Jewish-Christian Gospels.”NT Apocrypha. I. Ed. Hennecke/Schneemelcher/Wilson. Phila.: Westminster, 1963, 117-65.

Heritage, “Influences,” etc.

Kraft, R. A. “The Multiform Jewish Heritage of Early Christianity.” Judaism, Christianity, and Other Greco-Roman Cults (M. Smith Fest., above) 3, 174-99.

_____. “Some Notes on Sabbath Observance in Early Christianity.” Andrews U. Seminary Studies 3 (1965), 18-33.

_____. “In Search of ‘Jewish Christianity’ and its ‘Theology.’” Judéo-Christianisme (Daniélou Fest., above).

Richardson, C. C. “A New Solution to the Quartodeciman Riddle.” JTS 24 (1973), 74-84

Rordorf, W. Sunday. History of the Day of Rest and Worship in the Earliest C’s of the Christian Church. Phila.: Westminster, 1968 (See Kraft.s review, CBO).

See also Martyr, R. Brown, and Meeks on John, and literature on Paul’s opponents.

X. Superstition and Magic (Simon, Chapter 12)

Aune, David E. “Magic in Early Christianity.” In W. Haase, Ed., Aufsteig und Niedergang der romischen Welt II. Berlin: de Gruyter (forthcoming).

Bailey, F. G. Strategems and Spoils: A Social Anthropology of Politics. N.Y.: Schocken, 1969.

Barb, A. A. “The Survival of the Magic Arts.” In A. Momigliano, ed., The Conflict between Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963.

Brown, Peter. “Sorcery, Demons, and the Rise of Christianity: From Late Antiquity into the Middle Ages.” In Brown, Religion and Society in the Age of Augustine. N.Y.: Harper & Row, 1972, pp. 119-146.

Brox, N. “Magic und Aberglaube an den Anfängen des Christentums.”Trierer Theologische Zeitschrift 83 (1974), 157-180.

Coser, Lewis. The Functions of Social Conflict. N.Y.: Free Press, 1956.

Dumeige, Gervais. “Le Christ médecin dans la literature chrétienne des premiers siecles.” Rivista di Archeologia Criistiana 48 (1972), 115-141.

Festugière, A. J. L’Idéal religieux des Grecs et L’Evangile: Excursus E: La valeur religieuse des papyrus magiques. Paris: Gabalda, 1932.

Gager, John G. Moses in Greco-Roman Paganism. Nashville: Abingdon, 1972.

Goldin, Judah. “The Magic of Magic and Superstition.” In E. Schussler Fiorenza, ed., Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1976, 115-147.

Goodenough, E. R. Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period. Vol. II. N.Y.: Princeton University Press, 1953, vol. II.

Gundel, H. G. Weltbild und Astrologie in den griechischen Zauberpapyri. Munich, 1968.

_____. “Vom Weltbild in den griechischen Zauberpapyri: Probleme und Ergebnisse.” Proceedings of the Twelfth International Congress of Papyrology. Toronto, 1970.

Hubert, Henri. “Magia,” In C. Daremberg & E. Saglio, eds., Dictionnaire des antiquités grecques et romaines. Paris: Hachette, 1873-1919.

Lods, Marc. “Etude sur les sources juives de la polemique de Celsus contre les Chrétiens.” Revue d’Histoire et de Philosophie Religieuse 21 (1941), 1-33.

MacMullen, Ramsey. Enemies of the Roman Order. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1966.

Moeller, W. O. The ROTAS-SATOR Square and Its Mithraic Origins and Meanings. Leiden: Brill, 1973.

Nock, Arthur Darby. “Paul and the Magus.” In Z. Stewart, ed. Essays on Religion and the Ancient World. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972. pp. 308-330.

Parassouglou, G. M. “Artificial Scripts and Magical Papyri.” Studia Papyrologica 13 (1974), 57-60.

Smith, Jonathan Z. “Demonic Powers in Late Antiquity.” In W. Haase, Ed. Aufsteig und Niedergang der romischen Welt II. Berlin: de Gruyter (forthcoming).

Smith, Morton. Clement of Alexandria and a Secret Gospel of Mark. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1973.

_____. Jesus the Magician. N.Y.: Harper & Row, 1978.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

L8.3, VIII. Christian Anti-Semitism, Part 1, Backgrounds, J. Gager

Preface

Introduction, “The Problem. Chronological Limits of the Study”

Chapter I, “Following the Crisis: Palestinian Judaism”

Daniel R. Bechtel, Dickinson College

Chapter IV, “Rome, Judaism, and Christianity”

Chapter V: “Anti-Jewish Polemic; Characteristics and Methods”

Chapter VI, “The Argumentation of Anti-Jewish Polemic”

Marinus De Jonge, University of Leiden

Chapter VIII, “Christian Anti-Semitism,” Parts 2 to 5

David P. Efroymson, LaSalle College

Chapter IX, “The Fate of Jewish Christianity”

Glen Koch, Eastern College

Martha Himmelfarb, Princeton University

Eugene Gallagher, Connecticut College

Eugene Gallagher, Connecticut College

I. General: Jewish-Christian Relations

Klijn, A. F. J. “The Study of Jewish Christianity.” NTS 20 (1974), 419-31.