Jumping over one’s own shadow with Ernst Käsemann and David Lincicum: the challenge of translating unusual idioms

In today’s post I will attempt to respond to a question submitted by Dr. David Lincicum of the University of Oxford [now Notre Dame], whose forthcoming edited volume on F. C. Baur I discussed on March 24th  (see here). His question concerned the translation of the idiom “über den eigenen Schatten springen”, which Ernst Käsemann uses in his introduction to the exegetical volume of F. C. Baur’s Ausgewählte Schriften, p. xi, and elsewhere. With reference to this example, Lincicum asked to hear my thoughts on “rendering vivid phrases like this into English”: [a] do I “keep the metaphor, though knowing that it will sound odd to English-speakers but perhaps more powerful for that reason”, or [b] do I “translate it into some kind of roughly equivalent English metaphor”, or [c] do I “simply opt for the sense of it?”

In my view, this is a very good theoretical question, which unfortunately allows for no easy answer, at least as I see it. The key point to note is that every solution has its pros and cons. Option (a) prioritizes the translator’s allegiance to the source language, which is good, but presses the limits of the target language, which is usually bad, though perhaps not here since the resulting oddness or awkwardness might increase the power of the metaphor. In general, option (b) is an attractive option with a view to the translator’s allegiance to the target language, especially if it is possible to find an especially suitable metaphor in English, and it has the advantage of retaining something of the metaphorical character of the source language. So this is often a good solution, i.e. if a suitable English idiom is available, and if the advantages of retaining the odd original idiom are not judged to outweigh it. Finally, (c) is often the best option with a view to readability and probably preferable to (b) in cases in which it is not possible to find a particularly suitable metaphor and to (a) if the German idiom is too awkward or too difficult to comprehend.

Before turning to the expression “über den eigenen Schatten springen” let me comment briefly on a comparable problem that I encountered in my translation of Martin Hengel’s essay “Eye-Witness Memory and the Writing of the Gospels” for Graham Stanton’s Festschrift The Written Gospel (eds. Markus Bockmuehl and Donald Hagner). Though it has been almost ten years now, I remember well struggling to figure out how I should translate the idiom “hat sich den Jüngern ins Herz gebrannt“ in the sentence: “Die Erinnerung an die letzte Nacht mit dem Passamahl und den Ereignissen in Gethsemane, an den Verrat des Judas, die Verleugnung des Petrus und die eigentliche Passion hat sich den Jüngern ins Herz gebrannt.“ In the end, I decided to stick closely to the German wording and write “were burned into the hearts of the disciples” [“were” is unfortunately incorrect: it should read “was burned into” or “burned itself into”!] with the exactly the rationale suggested by Lincicum, namely because it seemed to me that the retention of this unusual idiom might make it all the more powerful for the English reader. In other words, I decided that (a) was the best option, all things considered. But is this also the best solution for “über den eigenen Schatten springen”?

Let me begin by surveying some of the ways that the expression can be used. Here is what I have been able to find so far:

According to the Redensarten-Index, the phrase means “sich überwinden; ungewöhnlich handeln; für eine richtige Sache einen Grundsatz ignorieren“ (to overcome oneself; to act unusually; to ignore a principle for a right thing/just cause”).

According to Katja Grundman’s post at the GeoLino Redewendungen page, “‘Über seinen Schatten springen‘ sagt man, wenn jemand etwas tut, obwohl es seinen eigenen Überzeugungen oder seinem Charakter widerspricht. (“‘to jump over one’s shadow’ is what one says when someone does something, although it contradicts his [or her] own convictions or character”).

Duden explains the phrase as follows: “sich überwinden, etwas zu tun, was gegen die eigene Natur, die eigenen Vorstellungen, Absichten, Wünsche geht“ (to overcome oneself, to do something that goes against one’s own nature, ideas, intentions, wishes)

Not surprisingly, Linguee’s example sentences reflect a diverse range of solutions that move between (a) and (c), for example: (a) “jump over its/your own shadow”, “reach beyond their shadows”, (b) “to change their spots”, “breaking the mould”, “expand one’s horizons”, (c) “surpass ourselves”, “change the habit of a lifetime”, “change our attitudes”, “a change of approach”.

Finally, dict.cc translates the phrase “Man kann nicht über seinen eigenen Schatten springen” with “The leopard cannot change his spots”.

Against this background, let us now look at how the phrase is being used by Käsemann in his in introduction to the exegetical volume of F.C. Baur’s Ausgewählte Schriften, p. xi):

[x] Gleichwohl darf man Baurs Deutung nicht einfact als vermeidbaren Fehlschluß betrachten. Sie hat Ursachen, für welche Baur kaum verantwortlich gemacht werden kann, wenn man nicht von ihm verlangt, dass er auf der ganzen Linie die zu seiner Zeit geltenen Prämissen hätte überspringen müssen … [xi] Von den gegebenen Voraussetzungen aus ist solche Argumentation und Interpretation geschlossen und sogar überzeugend. Für eine echte Alternative war die Zeit noch nicht reif. Baur hätte über den eigenen Schatten springen müssen, um sie zu erkennen. Wenn der bedeutende Historiker jedoch aus dem Schatten seiner Zeit herausspringt, muß er gleichwohl dem Verhängnis, sich nicht völlig lösen zu können, seiner Tribut zahlen.“

Käsemann’s larger argument in this section is that Baur can hardly be made responsible for the problems with his line of argumentation because they are a result of the problematic premises of his time period that he was not in position to overcome completely. Against this background, the statement “Baur would have had to jump over his own shadow to recognize it [a genuine alternative]” appears to have the basic force of “Baur would have had to do the impossible to recognize it”. But how should it be translated? In my judgment, it is difficult to decide between the three options here, namely (a) retaining the idiom: “Baur would have had to jump over his own shadow to recognize it [a genuine alternative], (b) making use of a comparable English idiom: “Baur would have had to change his spots to recognize it” or “Baur would have had to play a different hand than he had been dealt to recognize it”, or (c) translating according to sense: “Baur would have had to do the impossible to recognize it” or “Baur would have had to break through his own historical limitations to recognize it”. In the end, I would probably retain the idiom together with the corresponding image of jumping out of the shadow in the next sentence. But I can understand why others might think it would be better to adopt options (b) or (c), and would certainly not be quick to criticize them if they did. If (c) were adopted, then one could perhaps write: “Baur would have had to break through his own historical limitations to recognize it. If, however, the important historian did break out of the limitations of his time, then he must nevertheless pay his tribute to the fate of not being able to completely overcome them.”

[In response to my original post, Christoph Heilig helpfully drew my attention to the moral dimension of this idiom: “Interestingly, the German idiom is used quite unusually here. You got the sense right (c)), because the context clearly speaks of real constraints and limitations. However, usually “über den eigenen Schatten springen” is used to describe decisions which are well possible but demand courage. Hence, this expression normally has a moral component.”]

Many thanks to David Lincicum for submitting such a stimulating (and challenging!) question.

For other posts on E. Käsemann in the blogosophere, see here.

For other posts on F. C. Baur in the blogosphere, see here.

For a complete list of my blog posts, please see here.

For tips on how to use this blog, please see here.

For two interviews with me about the Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Series, see Clifford Kvidahl and Michael Hölscher.

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German Mondays: Thank you for making it to the end of this blog post! In an effort to provide a sense of regularity and predictability for this blog’s readership, I plan on writing a new post each Monday. So hopefully I will ‘see’ you again in a week’s time. Best, Wayne.

 

T. Michael Law and Christoph Markschies on Origen in Caesarea

Like many other readers (see e.g., here; cf. here), I profited from and enjoyed T. Michael Law’s important book When God Spoke Greek (cf. here). In the tradition of the “Man with the Honeyed Sword” (and Cicero), it is certainly a work that teaches, delights, and persuades, and I found that it constructively shaped my thinking at numerous points. Moreover, I found that it generated many lines of questioning as I read it in conjunction with my work translating Jens Schröter’s book Von Jesus zum Neuen Testament / From Jesus to the New Testament and Christoph Markschies’ book Kaiserzeitliche christliche Theologie und ihre Institutionen / Christian Theology and its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire, especially in relation to the topic of canon. Accordingly, I hope that this will be the first of several posts devoted to a comparison of these works on select points. For a recent conversation between T Michael Law and Christoph Markschies at Marginalia, see here.

Today’s post will focus on a noteworthy difference in how Origen’s activity in Caesarea is presented by Law and Markschies.

I. T. Michael Law on Origen in Caesarea

When God Spoke Greek (p. 141): “Demetrius’s rage left the scholar no other choice but to leave Alexandria and make his permanent home in Caesarea c. 232. In this last phase of his life, Origen’s success as a preacher grew, as did his pastoral concerns. In contrast to his previous tenure at the Catechetical School in the philosophically rich context of Alexandria, he found himself in contact less with students than with common Christians.7

Note 7: See also H. Crouzel, Origène (Paris: Lethielleux, 1985), 46.

II. Christoph Markschies on Origen in Caesarea

Christian Theology and its Institutions in the Early Roman Empire (wmc): “Origen left Alexandria for good at the beginning of the thirties of the third century (probably 232 CE), moved to the worldly and ecclesiastical administrative metropolis of Caesarea in Palestine, and now did, in fact, establish a “(collegiate) school” there, so that he was also active as a theological teacher in the second important section of his life. More precise information about this “school of Origen,” the first clearly attested Christian private university, can be obtained above all from the aforementioned “Address of Thanksgiving” (λόγος χαριστήριος [cf. 3.31 and 4.40], later entitled λόγος προσφωρητικός), which the later bishop Gregory Thaumaturgus addressed to his teacher after five years at this school, probably in 238 CE. … From the life story of Gregory Thaumaturgus it becomes clear that with his “school” Origen evidently did not wish to address primarily the Christians of Caesarea, let alone the Christian youth of Caesarea, who were keen on education, but transregionally courted educated members of the upper stratum who were interested in a collegiate education within a Christian framework.”

Kaiserzeitliche christliche Theologie und ihre Institutionen (p. 102 and 103): „Origenes verließ Alexandria endgültig zu Beginn der dreißiger Jahre des dritten Jahrhunderts (wohl 232 n. Chr.), siedelte in die weltliche wie kirchliche Verwaltungsmetropole Caesarea in Palaestina über und gründete dort nun tatsächlich eine „Hoch-(Schule)“, so daß er auch im zweiten wichtigen Abschnitt seines Lebens als theologischer Lehrer tätig war. Genauere Informationen über diese „Schule des Origines“, die erste eindeutig belegte christliche Privatuniversität, erhält man vor allem aus der ebenfalls schon erwähnten „Dankrede“ (λόγος χαριστήριος [vgl. 3,31 und 4,40], später λόγος προσφωρητικός), die der spätere Bischof Gregor Thaumaturgus nach fünf Jahren Auftenthalt an dieser Schule wohl im Jahre 238 n. Chr. an seinen Lehrer richtete. … Aus dem Lebenslauf des Gregor Thaumaturgus wird deutlich, daß Origenes mit seiner ‚Schule‘ offenbar nicht primär die bildungswilligen Christen oder gar die bildungswillige christliche Jugend Caesareas ansprechen wollte, sondern überregional um gebildete Angehörige der Oberschicht warb, die an einer Hochschulbildung unter christlichen Vorzeichen interessiert waren.“

Selective grammatical analysis

wohl” can be a somewhat elusive term, but it often has the force of “probably”. “übersiedeln” becomes “siedelt … über”. “weltlich” is difficult to translate, since both “worldly” and “secular” have their drawbacks. I have chosen to translate “eine ‘Hoch-(Schule)’” as “a ‘(collegiate) school’”, which is far from ideal but is probably the best that I can manage. I often translate “vor allem” with “above all”, though “especially” is better in some contexts. I struggled to translate “bildungswillige”, eventually choosing “keen on education”, and I decided not to repeat “keen on education” with Christians and Christian youth but to place the phrases in such a way that “keen on education” would be seen to modify both words. For the translation of “warb um” (past form of “werben um”) I debated between “sought to win”, “recruited”, “wooed”, and “courted” before settling on the last option. I find the phrase “unter christlichen Vorzeichen” and the similar phrase “unter dem Vorzeichen + genitive” to be very difficult. “Vorzeichen” can mean “sign” or “auspices”, which may be relevant here. “Unter dem Vorzeichen” seems to be able to have the force of “under the conditions of”. Hence, it might capture the force to translate the phrase as “under Christian conditions”. But I have chosen the formulation “within a Christian framework”, which I think captures the basic sense.

Substantive Analysis

While great caution is required when attempting to comment on an issue that lies outside of one’s sphere of expertise (in my case Origen scholarship), it remains possible to provide a tentative analysis in such cases, provided one remains acutely aware of the limitations of one’s competency. With this caveat in mind, let me restrict myself to two points. First, in relation to the specific point in question it would arguably not be unreasonable to give greater weight to the view of Markschies, since this question falls more directly within his specific sphere of research expertise and since he deals with this question at much greater length in his book. At the same time, one should resist the temptation to settle the issue too quickly, since Law interacts carefully with Origen in his book and can reference H. Crouzel’s book on Origen in support of his view on the matter at hand. Secondly, it therefore follows that any attempt to reach an informed judgment on the issue cannot be based solely on a general assessment of relative authority, but must critically test the strength of Christoph Markschies’ more extensive argument, which is based on his close reading of Gregory Thaumaturgus’s Address of Thanksgiving to Origen. Since my knowledge of this work and the critical issues that would need to be addressed as part of its analysis —which might include issues of authorship and historical accuracy— is extremely limited, I am not in position to test this argument with any authority. Instead, I can only say that an initial reading of the Address of Thanksgiving to Origen would seem to support Christoph Markschies’ argument that Origen established a relatively advanced Christian (collegiate) school, or private Christian university, in Caesarea, which would, in turn, appear to stand in considerable tension with Law’s statement that “In contrast to his previous tenure at the Catechetical School in the philosophically rich context of Alexandria, he found himself in contact less with students than with common Christians” in Caesarea. In other words, if Markschies’ argument is correct, then this may be a place in which minor revision will be required for the second edition of T. Michael Law’s important work When God Spoke Greek.

For my other posts on Christoph Markschies, see here.

For a complete list of my blog posts, please see here.

For tips on how to use this blog, please see here.

For two interviews with me about the Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Series, see Clifford Kvidahl and Michael Hölscher.

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German Mondays: Thank you for making it to the end of this blog post! In an effort to provide a sense of regularity and predictability for this blog’s readership, I plan on writing a new post each Monday. So hopefully I will ‘see’ you again in a week’s time. Best, Wayne.

Udo Schnelle and Eugene Boring on “Geschichte”, “Historie”, and “Historik”: with special guests Jens Schröter, Chris Keith, and Brevard Childs

Today’s post will discuss a noteworthy quotation from Udo Schnelle on his use of the terms “Geschichte“, “Historie“, and “Historik“, which also includes an instructive translator’s note by Eugene Boring (= MEB). The following quotation is taken from Udo Schnelle. Theology of the New Testament. Translated by Eugene Boring. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2007, p. 27n5:

Main text: How was history (Geschichte) made and how does research and writing about history (Historie) take place? Footnote 5: Regarding terminology: I use the German terms “Geschichte”/“geschichtlich” to refer to what happened, and “Historie”/“historisch” to indicate the ways in which historians attempt to determine what this was. “Historik” refers to the philosophical theory of history. Cf. H./W. Hedinger, “Historik”, in Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie (ed. Karfried Gründer et al.; Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1974). “Geschichte” is never directly available except as “Historie,” but nonetheless the two concepts and terms must be distinguished, because the questions posed from the point of view of philosophical theories of history are not simply identical with “what happened” as that was understood by people in the past. [The German language has two words for “history,” while English has but one. Many German authors, including some quoted by Schnelle, use the two words interchangeably. The nuances distinguished by Schnelle are sometimes difficult to preserve in English. Since the context usually makes clear which meaning is intended, I have generally rendered both words by history and its cognates, though sometimes using event or story for Geschichte to preserve the author’s nuance, or rendering geschichtlich by historic in contrast to historical. See note 2 in § 2.1 below. Here the original reads: “Wie entsteht Geschichte/Historie?” – MEB]

Analysis: This quotation is interesting for several reasons. From the perspective of the subject matter, it is noteworthy insofar as Schnelle recognizes the need to distinguish between two different concepts, namely between “what happened” and “the ways that historians attempt to determine what this was”, and decides to mark this distinction terminologically, namely by using “Geschichte” for the former and “Historie” for the latter. Jens Schröter makes a somewhat comparable move in distinguishing between “past” and “history” (see e.g. From Jesus to the New Testament, p. 98n12 and pp. 22-24), and in his inaugural lecture at St Mary’s University Chris Keith makes a related distinction between “the actual past”, “the (commemorated/received/inherited) past,” and the “present” (see here, esp. 14:22-16:44, 19:20-23:10, 25:18-30:22, 31:47-34:27, 36:21-39:15, 42:30-42:56, 44:00-46:03, 46:04-50:52, 56:32-57:22). Secondly, it is notable that Eugene Boring has difficulty maintaining Schnelle’s terminological distinction in his translation, which could be viewed as an argument against this usage. Thirdly, it is conspicuous insofar as other scholars distinguish between Geschichte and Historie in rather different ways, which is probably an even stronger argument against Schnelle’s usage. For example, in The Church’s Guide for Reading Paul, Brevard Childs writes:

“In a real sense, there is an analogy between his [Gerhard Lohfink’s] categories and those of Martin Kähler between Geschichte and Historie. Geschichte is the historical reflections on events and conditions carried on within a confessing community of faith. Historie is the attempt to understand events from an objective, scientific analysis, applying ordinary experience, apart from any confessional content, as the measure of its credibility” (p. 165; cf. Daniel Driver, Brevard Childs Biblical Theologian for the Church’s One Bible, p. 18).

[Similarly, David Jasper writes: “Historie is a description of how events actually happened; Geschichte is a description of what events mean, both to those who first experienced them and to us now. In other words Geschichte is also concerned with contemporary present-day experience. History is not just about the past; it is about the present” (A Short Introduction to Hermeneutics, p. 93, cited by Walter Moberly, Old Testament Theology, p. 92) and in this vein Karl Barth wrote “Not all history is ‘historical’ [Nicht alle Geschichte ist “historisch”]” (Church Dogmatics III/I:61-94, esp. 80; cited by Walter Moberly, Old Testament Theology, p. 92).]

With a view to all of these observations, I think that Schnelle’s attempt to distinguish terminologically between “what happened” and “the ways that historians attempt to determine what this was” is salutary, but I am not convinced that using Geschichte and Historie to do so is the best way forward, and I also have some reservations about Schnelle’s way of formulating the concepts that need to be distinguished. I find Schröter’s distinction between “past/events” and “history” preferable as a way of speaking about “what happened” and “what (ancient and modern) historians do” (without this being limited to the ways that historians attempt to determine what happened but rather related more closely to the ways in which historians represent the past in the present with reference to the sources that are available to us). If Chris Keith’s more differentiated terminology is drawn upon, then I think it works well to distinguish between “the actual past”, “the inherited past”, and “the present”, whereas I find it somewhat unhelpful to simply speak of “the past” with reference to something other than “the actual past” (even if this usage is widespread in social memory research) since this usage is likely to be misunderstood by many New Testament scholars (for my own confusion on this point and Chris Keith’s helpful clarification, see here: Part II: 41:54-43:50).

For a complete list of my blog posts, please see here.

For tips on how to use this blog, please see here.

For two interviews with me about the Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Series, see Clifford Kvidahl and Michael Hölscher.

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German Mondays: Thank you for making it to the end of this blog post! In an effort to provide a sense of regularity and predictability for this blog’s readership, I plan on writing a new post each Monday. So hopefully I will ‘see’ you again in a week’s time. Best, Wayne.

Michael Hölscher, “Entweder Gott oder der Mammon – Das soziale Anliegen des Lukas”

As I explained in my previous “German scholars” post on Volker Rabens, the purpose of this category is to introduce junior and senior German scholars and their research to the English speaking world. Each post will consist of (a) my translation of a short passage from a publication submitted by the German author him/herself and (b) some biographical-bibliographical information about the scholar in question. For information on submitting an entry for this category, see here.

Today’s “German scholar” is Michael Hölscher from the University of Mainz. He blogs at Grámmata, where he was kind enough to interview me about the Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Series in March (see here).

As his passage of choice, Hölscher has submitted an excerpt from the following work: Michael Hölscher. “Entweder Gott oder der Mammon – Das soziale Anliegen des Lukas”. Pages 222-226 in Jetzt verstehe ich die Bibel. Edited by A. Leinhäupl. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 2010. For his reflections on poverty and riches in Luke, see also here.

I) Translation: The Parable of the Unrighteous Manager (Luke 16:1-8)

English Translation (wmc): “Nevertheless the parable remains illogical: why is the manager praised at the end for doing exactly what he was reproached for at the beginning (squandering the possessions of the rich man)? Should one make a defrauder one’s role model? The narrative is not an example story that recommends that one act exactly as the hero in the narrative, but rather a parable that must be transferred/applied – for instance to the situation of the Christian community of Luke. Perhaps it is a matter of acting “cleverly” according to the different logic of the Lord and scraping/muddling through in a manner that is socially acceptable (and yet “unrighteous” according to worldly perceptions). The exhortation then reads: “Make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous mammon” (Luke 16.9). For Christians there remains only the hope of being judged and praised as “clever” by God at the end – because his logic is unworldly and illogical in the good sense.”

“Entweder Gott oder der Mammon“ (p. 225): „Nichtsdestotrotz bleibt das Gleichnis unlogisch: Warum wird der Verwalter am Ende dafür gelobt, dass er genau das tut, was ihm zu Beginn vorgeworfen wurde (den Besitz des Reichen zu verschleudern)? Soll man sich einen Betrüger zum Vorbild nehmen? Die Erzählung ist keine Beispielgeschichte, die einem empfiehlt, sich genau so zu verhalten wie der Held in der Erzählung, sondern eine Parabel, die übertragen werden muss – etwa auf die Situation der christlichen Gemeinde des Lukas. Vielleicht geht es darum, gemäß der anderen Logik des Herrn „klug“ zu handeln und sich sozialverträglich (aber nach weltlichem Empfinden „ungerecht“) durchzuschlagen. Die Aufforderung lautet dann: „Macht euch Freunde mit dem ungerechten Mammon“ (Lk 16,9). Für die Christinnen und Christen bleibt nur die Hoffnung, am Ende von Gott als „klug“ beurteilt und gelobt zu werden – weil seine Logik im guten Sinne weltfremd und unlogisch ist.”

Selective Grammatical Analysis: I experienced two difficulties with this passage. First, how can I convey the force of “übertragen”? Applied reads better but it doesn’t quite capture the sense that something must be taken over into another sphere. “transferred” seems better in terms of precision but it seems to require the addition of something else such as “to another sphere”. So I waffled and wrote transferred/applied, which is not really an option for a published translation. Secondly, I struggled to find a translation for “durchzuschlagen”, which I rendered as “scraping/muddling through”. The sense is clearer in the larger context of the essay where Hölscher has shown how the manager finds a way to maneuver through the difficult situation he is in, which helps to contextualizes what is meant here. Third, it is difficult to convey the force of “weltfremd” – unworldly isn’t quite right, but “foreign to the world” seemed to cumbersome.

II. Biographical-Bibliographical Information about Michael Hölscher (as submitted by author, with some modifications)

From 2003 to 2009 Michael Hölscher studied Catholic Theology, German language and literature in Münster (Germany). Between 2009 and 2013 he worked as a research assistant at the University of Graz (Austria). For the summer term of 2012 he furthered his studies of Matthew and Q in Edinburgh (United Kingdom). He now works at the University of Mainz (Germany). For further information, see his university page here.

At present Hölscher is working on his PhD dissertation. Its working title is “Matthäus liest Q. Eine Studie zu Mt 11,2-19 und Q 7,18-35” (Matthew as a Reader of Q: A Study of Matt 11.2-19 and Q 7.18-35).

He is interested in the way that Matthew deals with his sources Mark and Q, but especially with Q. Following James M. Robinson and Linden Youngquist he thinks that Matthew appreciates Q because Matthew sometimes takes over the Q outline and arranges the surrounding material to prepare for and reinforce the material adopted from Q. Matt 11:2-19/Q 7:18-35 is a good example of this technique: Matthew prepares for Matt 11:5/Q 7:22 (“The blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear …”) by composing the miracle chapters 8-9 in such a way that in the Matthean story line Matt 11:5 can be read as a fulfillment statement.

In his dissertation he will provide (1) a history of research about the topic, (2) a reconstruction of Q 7:18-35 and a short commentary on the Q text to trace its specific theological profile, and (3) an analysis of the Matthean redaction and composition in Matt 11 (with a view to the whole Gospel). For a more detailed description of his project see here.

For a complete list of my blog posts, please see here.

For tips on how to use this blog, please see here.

For two interviews with me about the Baylor-Mohr Siebeck Series, see Clifford Kvidahl and Michael Hölscher.

Facebook Page: To receive notifications of future blog posts, please subscribe to this blog and/or like my facebook page here.

German Mondays: Thank you for making it to the end of this blog post! In an effort to provide a sense of regularity and predictability for this blog’s readership, I plan on writing a new post each Monday. So hopefully I will ‘see’ you again in a week’s time. Best, Wayne.