The Good and Evil Serpent (4 page)

It is imperative to share openly that this freedom to pursue research has been a hallmark of Protestant seminaries for approximately two centuries, with an improvement in raising questions and discerning answers over the past century. In 1787, J. P. Gabler, for example, emphasized that we must “establish some distinction between biblical and dogmatic theology,” and also “distinguish among each of the periods in the Old and New Testaments, each of the authors, and each of the manners of speaking which each used as a reflection of time and place, whether these matters are historical or didactic or poetic.”
⁵
Particularly important for all who are offended, if only initially, by the suggestion that the Fourth Evangelist thought of Jesus as a serpent is Gabler’s ageless advice that we must discern what symbol an evangelist might have employed “as an accommodation to the ideas or the needs of the first Christians” (pp. 142–43).

The
dicta classica
must not be a list of texts isolated from their literary or sociological contexts. Nothing other than the texts themselves, understood in terms of the original meaning of the authors of long ago, should inform us of Scripture; that is, to say with Gabler, “everything must be accomplished by exegetical observation only” (p. 143). The thrust of what Gabler argued seems to be the axiom followed today in every leading Jewish or Christian seminary: that dogmatic theology must not dictate agendas and methods to biblical scholars but, instead, must be informed by biblical theology, which is shaped by careful exegesis not marred by our own wishes or desires.
⁶
Most of the readers of this search for the original meaning of the Fourth Gospel will agree with Gabler that the Bible does contain revealed truths and that the task of biblical theology is to discover these and distinguish them from the mythology used in antiquity.

In consequent developments of the insights advanced by Gabler at the end of the eighteenth century are thoughts echoed today in many seminaries. W. Wrede argued that our work as New Testament scholars must not deal with the “New Testament” because the collection called the canonical New Testament postdates the period in which these twenty-seven writings were formed, shaped, and edited. The canon of the New Testament was given to the church by bishops and theologians. No specialist, who is a scholar, can accept limiting questions to a closed canon without severely compromising free inquiry and the ability to learn something strikingly new and fresh (even if such a “revelation” was common knowledge for the ancients).
⁷
A. Schlatter wisely urged us to have a perspective that seems essential in our search for the intended meaning of John 3:14–15: “Our work has a historical purpose when it is not concerned with the interests which emerge from the course of our own life, but directs its attention quite deliberately away from ourselves and our own contemporary interests, back to the past.”
⁸
Our search will thus focus on what the Fourth Evangelist intended when he wrote that “the Son of Man”—Jesus to him—must be lifted up as the serpent was raised up by Moses.

Many vehemently resist thinking of Jesus as a serpent or snake precisely because they assume this creature symbolically has only a negative connotation. To demonstrate the hypothesis, or thesis, that the Fourth Evangelist in John 3:14 contends that Jesus is like the serpent raised up by Moses in the wilderness depends on establishing that:

1. The serpent is sometimes a good symbol in world cultures.
   
2. The serpent was admired in Old Testament times and within Early Judaism.
   
3. The serpent was appreciated in the Greek and Roman periods.
   
4. The serpent was a positive symbol in the Judaism of the Fourth Evangelist.
   
5. John 3:14 means more than a parallel between the lifting up of the serpent and of Jesus.
   
6. John 3:14 is a poetic statement in parallel thought so that “the serpent” is synonymous with “the Son of Man.”
   
7. We can find an exegesis of Numbers 21 by a Jew contemporaneous with the Evangelist, and that the Jewish expositor stresses the positive symbolism of the copper (or bronze) serpent.
   
8. The Fourth Evangelist does not cavalierly treat the symbolism of the serpent he inherits from Numbers 21, but appreciates it and develops it in significantly positive ways.
   

These are formidable criteria to fulfill. The possibility that John 3:14–15 mirrors something like an anguine Christology will be essentially established if these criteria, or some of them, are validated.
⁹
Thus, our central question: Did the Fourth Evangelist or perhaps some members in his community imagine that Jesus could be symbolized as a serpent?

The tasks before us are daunting but promising. If the Fourth Evangelist was a Jew and his community essentially Jewish, and if we can discover positive images of the serpent in the Judaism of his time, then a presupposition against considering the possibility of a positive meaning of ophidian symbolism is diminished. Does the serpent ever represent something positive in the Jewish literature anterior to or roughly contemporaneous with the Fourth Evangelist? The words in John 3:14 are attributed to Jesus; is there evidence that he mentioned the serpent in other passages, and are these symbolic of positive meanings?

If some members in the Johannine community were Greeks or Romans (as seems evident from Jn 12:20–26), did some bring with them a positive ophidian or anguine symbolism? Did some converts come from a cult of Asclepius, and would they perhaps have portrayed Jesus as the divine healer, “the Savior,” who is “like a serpent”? Given Jesus’ heroic exploits, did members of the Johannine community link him with Hercules who took the apple signifying immortality from a tree—guarded by a serpent—in the Hesperides?
¹⁰
In the Catacomb of Via Latina, in Cubiculum N, is a depiction of Hercules in the Garden of the Hesperides, with a large serpent.
¹¹
The art seems shaped by Christian interpretations, perhaps like the one found recently in Lower Galilee (see
Fig. 2
). Is there a possible link between Johannine symbolism and the pervasive ancient understanding that the serpent alone has the secret to immortality and wins back its youth yearly?

Figure 1
. Asclepius. Roman Period. Courtesy of the Hermitage. JHC

Raising such intriguing questions leads us to an ancient body of twenty-seven documents that are now labeled “the New Testament.” What are these texts, and how should one study them in search of a better grasp of ancient ophidian iconography? Before digging into the Fourth Gospel, we should pause and consider the problems confronted in the so-called New Testament.

Figure 2
. Christ as Hercules, Defeating the Serpent. From the ruins of a church in Lower Galilee. JHC

BEING HONEST ABOUT HOW THE NEW TESTAMENT TOOK SHAPE

Why is there such confusion regarding the study of the New Testament? Why have New Testament experts explored the deep symbolisms in the Fourth Gospel but shown little or no interest in the history of symbology generally and the study of ophidian symbolism specifically? The first question is raised because of claims found in the New Testament and the highly charged methods with which these texts are studied. They are not simply ancient texts according to Christians; they have a contemporary authority and message. The second question is raised because the New Testament texts demand so much intensive labor that sometimes broad issues, such as symbology, are left to be considered later, which often means never.

How did the New Testament take shape? For more than two centuries, at least, scholars in all Western societies have come to a consensus on how the New Testament writings were composed. Attempts to communicate academic discoveries to the church and synagogue—and to the wider public—have not been as successful as sharing the fruits of other scientific explorations. Seminary students study for three years at the major seminaries such as Princeton Theological Seminary. They are taught what scholars have learned about the composition of the books selected as “the Bible;” they often do extremely well in our classes, and then they leave us to serve a local church. Within a few years, their interest has shifted to the needs of the congregation, and often as young pastors they are no longer dedicated to struggling against the ignorance of those who pick up the Bible and read it as if it were this morning’s newspaper. Fearing that the local church leaders may not be supportive, they frequently forget our teachings and proceed to preach and teach, far too often, as if the uneducated have the final word on the composition of the biblical books. For example, 1 Timothy, which is a work by someone influenced by Paul, is placarded as Paul’s own composition.

It is no wonder then that most people in the highways and byways of our culture assume that the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of John were composed by the disciples of Jesus who are called “Matthew” and “John, the son of Zebedee.” The assumption is that these works are by eyewitnesses—Matthew and John heard what Jesus said and saw what he did. Furthermore, it is presupposed that we have exactly what they wrote and that no changes have been made by the Greek scribes who copied what had been written. We are assured that the Gospels we have are identical to the compositions that left the desks of Jesus’ disciples.

Now, let us be honest. All of this is incorrect. It is false, and the truth about the origins of our Gospels has been known for about two hundred years.

The Gospel attributed to Matthew cannot have been written by an eyewitness of Jesus and his first disciples. All New Testament scholars would be pleased if this assumption could prove to be the father of a valid conclusion. But, alas, the First Gospel was written over fifty years after Jesus’ crucifixion, and—most important—the author, who is anonymous and unknown, based his story of Jesus on the Gospel of Mark, which was written first. And Mark never met Jesus. Attempts to prove that the Gospel of Matthew is either early or not literarily dependent on Mark are usually fired by Christian apologetics, in the sad attempt to “shore up the faith.” Moreover, the author of the First Gospel is understandably more interested in serving the needs of his community than in giving us a factual, objective, and uninterpretive account of what Jesus said and did.

The identity of the Fourth Evangelist is also unknown. The attempts to prove that he must be John the son of Zebedee have failed, and the two major commentaries on the Fourth Gospel, written by Roman Catholics, have shown that the Beloved Disciple is probably not the Apostle John.
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The Fourth Gospel, the focus of our attention, reached its present form (with 7:53–8:11) sometime in the second century
CE
. An earlier form, the second edition, appeared in the late nineties, and the first edition—which we cannot date with precision—was composed, I am convinced, probably in the mid-sixties. The author inherited earlier sources, as I shall try to clarify later.

Another point needs to be clarified. We do not have even one fragment of the Gospels from the first century. We must work on second century, and even much later, copies of the Gospels to discern what the author may have written. I have announced the discovery of a copy of Mark that dates from the sixth century
CE
, and scholars around the world are eagerly waiting to hear what variant readings it might contain.
¹³
We text critics of the New Testament have grudgingly been forced to admit that many times scribes, who were copying the books of the New Testament, deliberately altered the text. Sometimes the alterations were for doctrinal reasons, sometimes they were caused by what seems to have been an embarrassing saying or episode. Often it was to “correct” the text in light of more recent theologies and Christologies.

Do these discoveries prove that the Gospels cannot preserve the inviolate word of God? Is it not clear that the Gospels can no longer be used authoritatively for salvation and for Christian living and thinking? Such conclusions usually result when members of a congregation learn that they cannot believe what they had been told. They lose faith in the preaching and integrity of preachers and teachers. What can be said to correct this error?

Obviously, Christian salvation and teaching cannot be based on what is false. The discovery of the truth can transport us back into the time of the evangelists, and, to a certain extent, even further. Sometimes, thanks to critical research, we are taken back into the time of Jesus, perhaps even into his presence. Scholarship has not deafened us to the word of God; it has helped scholars, who are often professors and preachers, to hear more clearly God’s word within the words of Scripture. The result is not a dependence on historians—it is an awakening of spirituality. I think we can hear the voices of those who are being freed from the dogmatism of literalism to spiritualism in some of the songs by Sting and Enya.

In the attempt to be honest—to clear the air—so that the present search can be understood, I have chosen to present seventeen succinct points on being honest about the shaping of the New Testament, with special attention to the Gospels, especially the Fourth Gospel, since that masterpiece is the focal point of the present investigation. Each of these seventeen points results from over two hundred years of intense and focused research on Early Judaism and Christian origins; not one is idiosyncratic.

1. Jesus was born during the reign of Herod the Great, who was king from 37 to 4
BCE
. Most likely Jesus was born sometime before 6
BCE
, since Matthew reports that King Herod sought to kill Jesus in Bethlehem. Herod ordered his troops to massacre all boys up to two years of age in and near Bethlehem (Mt 2:16).