The Christology of Early Christian Pract

JBL 127, no.
3 (2008): 591–614
he Christology of Early Christian Practice
thomas kazen
[email protected]
Stockholm School of heology, SE-168 39 Bromma, Sweden
This article suggests that an early view of Jesus as an eschatological prophet

could serve as a “root model” to which most other christological conceptions may
be related. It explores the possibility of confirming an early “prophet typology”1
through examining the practice of early groups of Christ-believers2 as reflected in
NT texts. It is suggested that the practice of early followers of Jesus to a large extent
could be viewed as a “christopraxy”3 and that such a christopraxy is based on expe-
rience; believers related their own social and religious experiences to historical (pri-
mary) experiences of the earliest Jesus movement, through narrative (secondary)
experiences, mediated by the Jesus tradition, whether orally or as texts. While a
developing “high” christology is frequently associated with liturgical expressions
and doxological language, traces of social action in imitation of Jesus’ own practice
point in a different direction, reflecting Jesus’ actions as an eschatological prophet
of the kingdom. As we will see, such traces are found both in Pauline letters and in
later texts.
1 To avoid obvious anachronisms in referring to early conceptions of Jesus, I use “prophet

typology” rather than “prophet christology.” There are nevertheless trajectories from early con-
ceptions to later confessions, and I do not want to convey the idea of early conceptions as “proto-
christologies” in the sense of being somehow insufficient or by necessity temporary in comparison
with later developments.
2 It is a contested issue at what point it becomes appropriate to talk of “early/iest Christians.”
This depends to a large extent on definitions. In the present context, discussing early followers of
Jesus as portrayed in the first chapters of Acts, the people associated with the Q document, or
even Pauline congregations, I prefer using “Christ-believers.”
3 I find this neologism useful for discussing the role of dogma (in the sense of more theo-
retical ideas) versus practice in the development of early views on Jesus. Cf. the usage of ortho-
doxy versus orthopraxy, which has now become commonplace.
591
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592 Journal of Biblical Literature 127, no. 3 (2008)
In the shadow of the history-of-religions school, christological developments

were often seen as results of syncretism; ideas of Jesus’ divinity developed as the
Palestinian Jesus movement met Hellenism and paganism. Honorific titles of vari-
ous kinds were ascribed to Jesus in a manner similar to the apotheosis of Greek and
Roman heroes.4 From the mid-twentieth century onward, however, we find several
studies of “titles,” tracing historical impulses to christological development from var-
ious types of both Hellenistic and Jewish environments.5 As a result, a number of
expressions used to identify Jesus have been shown to originate in Palestinian Jew-
ish traditions, with no ontological connotations of divinity attached to them.6
As research on the historical Jesus took a new orientation—the so-called third
quest—focusing on the Jewish environment, there was an increased interest in
studying not only the words but also the acts of Jesus for clues to the type or role
with which he was identified.7 A number of studies have explored the eschatolog-
ical prophet as such a model, and there is also evidence of this model carrying mes-
sianic connotations.8 I find the model of Jesus as an eschatological prophet of God’s
kingdom convincing, not least because it is grounded in experience—the histori-
cal experience of first-century Jews as well as religious expectation based on then
current interpretations of Scripture.9
4 Most prominently represented by Wilhelm Bousset, Kyrios Christos: A History of the Belief
in Christ from the Beginnings of Christianity to Irenaeus (1913; rev. ed., 1921; repr., Nashville:
Abingdon, 1970). Cf. Larry Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity
(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 5–18; Gerd Theissen and Annette Merz, The Historical Jesus: A
Comprehensive Guide (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998), 514–23.
5 E.g., Oscar Cullmann, Die Christologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr, 1957); Fer-
dinand Hahn, Christologische Hoheitstitel: Ihre Geschichte im frühen Christentum (FRLANT 83;
Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1963); Reginald Fuller, The Foundations of New Testament
Christology (New York: Scribner, 1965).
6 This is the case in particular with the expression “Son of God.” For overviews, see James
D. G. Dunn, Christology in the Making: A New Testament Inquiry into the Origins of the Doctrine
of the Incarnation (London: SCM, 1980), 12–64; Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ, 101–8.
7 See Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 523–31, on “implicit christology.” A turning toward
the acts of Jesus was anticipated already by Ernst Fuchs (“Die Frage nach dem historischen Jesus,”
ZTK 53 [1956]: 210–29), but it took the Jesus Seminar some time to catch on; see Robert W. Funk,
The Acts of Jesus: The Search for the Authentic Deeds of Jesus (New York: HarperSanFrancisco,
1998); cf. Bruce Chilton and Craig Evans, eds., Authenticating the Activities of Jesus (NTTS 28;
Leiden: Brill, 1999).
8 See Thomas Kazen, “Tidiga Jesusbilder: om erfarenheten bakom och framför kristologin,”
STK 81 (2005): 49–66, and further n. 15 below.

9 For definitions of “prophet” and “prophecy,” see Helmut Krämer, Rolf Rendtorff, Rudolf
Meyer, and Gerhard Friedrich, “προφήτης κτλ.,” TDNT 6:781–861; Gerard T. Sheppard and
William E. Herbrechtsmeier, “Prophecy: An Overview,” in Encyclopedia of Religion (2nd ed.; ed.
Lindsay Jones; 15 vols.; Farmington Hills, MI: Thomson Gale, 2005), 11:7423–29; Robert R.
Wilson, “Prophecy: Biblical Prophecy,” in ibid., 7429–38. Cf. Markus Öhler, “Jesus as Prophet:
Remarks on Terminology,” in Jesus, Mark and Q: The Teaching of Jesus and Its Earliest Records (ed.
Michael Labahn and Andreas Schmidt; JSNTSup 214; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001),
125–42.
Kazen: he Christology of Early Christian Practice 593
This interest in experience is shared by many scholars, such as Edward Schille-

beeckx, Marinus de Jonge, James D. G. Dunn, and Larry Hurtado.10 In 1980, when
Dunn described early christological development in Christology in the Making, he
drew a picture of a relatively slow process, in which a clear theology of incarnation
did not appear until the end of the first century, as in the Gospel of John. Although
Jesus is given a crucial role in Paul’s christology, not even Phil 2:6–11 is considered
to reflect a “high christology” in an ontological sense.11 Although Dunn was still
basically working from titles, the role of experience is emphasized and it becomes
more obvious in later publications.12 Hurtado’s focus is explicitly on experience, in
particular on worship, and he enlarges the idea of early christology to incorporate
devotion to Jesus in a broad sense. In contrast to Dunn, he regards christological
development as a quick explosion, taking place within a few years or even months,
finding evidence for this in early Christian prayer, confession, baptism, Eucharist,
hymns, and prophecy.13
Although including devotional or “liturgical” experience, I want to focus in the
present article on early Christian practice as christopraxy, with an emphasis on its
social and ethical aspects. However quickly or slowly the veneration of Jesus as a
divine being developed, I think there is evidence from early Christian practice for
an underlying root model being constitutive for various strands of early Christ-
belief.
In what follows, I will give a brief outline and arguments for the concept of an
eschatological prophet as an early root model for christological development, based
primarily on traditions from the Synoptic Gospels. I will then attempt to demon-
strate how the main components of this root model are reflected in the christo-
praxy of early Christ-believers, by discussing evidence from Paul, Acts, Q, and Mark
respectively.14
10 Edward Schillebeeckx, Jesus: An Experiment in Christology (London: Collins, 1979), 52–

59; idem, Interim Report on the Books Jesus and Christ (London: SCM, 1980), 10; Christ: The Chris-
tian Experience in the Modern World (London: SCM, 1980), 62–64, 71–79; Marinus de Jonge,
Christology in Context: The Earliest Christian Response to Jesus (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1988);
idem, God’s Final Envoy: Early Christology and Jesus’ Own View of His Mission (Grand Rapids:
Eerdmans, 1998); Dunn, Christology, 258–63; idem, Jesus Remembered (Christianity in the Mak-
ing, 1; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 127–34, 882–84; Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ, 64–74.
11 Dunn, Christology. For the development of incarnational theology in Johannine thought,
see esp. 261–65. For a discussion of Philippians 2, see 113–28.

12 See James D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998);
idem, Jesus Remembered.

13 Larry Hurtado, “The Binitarian Shape of Early Christian Worship,” in The Jewish Roots
of Christological Monotheism: Papers from the St. Andrews Conference on the Historical Origins of
the Worship of Jesus (ed. Carey C. Newman, James R. Davila, and Gladys S. Lewis; JSJSup 63;
Leiden: Brill, 1999), 187–213, here 192–211; cf. Lord Jesus Christ, 137–51.
14 The choice of these four sources is motivated by our quest for early christopraxy. A fuller
study could also include Lukan, Matthean, Johannine, and Thomasine material, as well as the
Didache. I do recognize the early nature of the strata underlying the Coptic Gospel of Thomas,
I. An Eschatological Prophet as Root Model
A number of scholars have chosen an eschatological prophet typology as their

frame of reference for discussing the historical Jesus. Among these are E. P. Sanders,
Maurice Casey, Dale C. Allison, and Bart D. Ehrman, to mention a few.15 The advan-
tage of this model is that it may incorporate a number of other “titles,” rather than
arguing for or against various designations as if they were somehow competitors.16
Several important conditions make such reasoning possible and plausible.
First, there are well-attested expectations for an eschatological prophet like Moses
and Elijah, originating from and nourished by Deut 18:18 and Mal 4:4–6. Reflec-
tions of Moses are found already in the Hebrew canon, for example, in Jeremiah,
Ezekiel, and Deutero-Isaiah,17 while Elijah is explicitly referred to by Jesus Sirach
(Sir 48:1, 10). The Samaritans included the prophet-like-Moses prediction twice in
their version of the Torah,18 and it is alluded to in Philo (Spec. 1.65). Both Deut
18:18 and Mal 4:4–6 are quoted and alluded to in Qumran fragments (see 4Q175;
4Q375; 4Q558; cf. 4Q521 2 II, 2).
Second, there were a number of contemporary eschatological prophets, exem-
plifying the currency of this typological figure, mentioned primarily by Josephus
but some also by Luke (e.g., Judas from Galilee, Theudas, the “Egyptian,” and the
but while I would allow for a first-century dating of a Greek original (cf. Ismo Dunderberg,
“Thomas’ I-sayings and the Gospel of John,” in Thomas at the Crossroads: Essays on the Gospel of
Thomas [ed. Risto Uro; Studies of the New Testament and Its World; Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1998], 33–64, who suggests a common setting for Thomas and John between 70 and 100 [p. 64],
with Richard Valantasis, The Gospel of Thomas [New Testament Readings; London/New York:
Routledge, 1997], 12–21, who dates a Greek original between 100 and 110 c.e.), I am not pre-
pared to juxtapose the Coptic Gospel to Q (in contrast to Q, reconstructing a Greek original of
Thomas is not even possible). The Didache certainly has ancient roots, too (see, e.g., Alan J. P.
Garrow, The Gospel of Matthew’s Dependence on the Didache [JSNTSup 254; London/New York:
T&T Clark, 2004]), but should, in my mind, nevertheless be considered along with Matthew rather
than with Q. The inclusion of Acts in this article can be contested, but see below under the head-
ing “Reflections in Acts.”
15 E. P. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism (London: SCM, 1985); idem, The Historical Figure of Jesus
(London: Penguin, 1993); Maurice Casey, From Jewish Prophet to Gentile God: The Origins and
Development of New Testament Christology (Cambridge: James Clarke, 1991); Dale C. Allison,
Jesus of Nazareth: Millenarian Prophet (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998); Bart D. Ehrman, Jesus: Apoc-
alyptic Prophet of the New Millennium (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999).
16 See Öhler, “Jesus as Prophet,” 141.
17 E.g., Jeremiah’s calling, Ezekiel’s temple instructions, and Deutero-Isaiah’s Suffering Ser-
vant. See Dale C. Allison, The New Moses: A Matthean Typology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 11–
134.
18 It also concludes the Ten Commandments in their version. See Marie-Émile Boismard,
Moses or Jesus: An Essay in Johannine Christology (BETL 84A; Leuven: Leuven University Press,
1993), 3–4, 30–41; Wayne A. Meeks, The Prophet-King: Moses Traditions and the Johannine Chris-
tology (NovTSup 14; Leiden: Brill, 1967), 216–57.
Samaritan leader at Gerizim).19 These figures are primarily prophets of action

rather than oracles, leaders of popular movements, reenacting foundational tales
and symbolic events in an eschatological context.20
Third, there are numerous attestations of Jesus being regarded as a prophet
by his contemporaries, and even his self-identification as a prophet, in spite of the
explicit wishes of most Gospel authors to confirm him as something more. He is
variously identified as a prophet, the prophet, Elijah, Jeremiah, John the Baptizer,
or some other prophet.21 Although Jesus is not explicitly identified with Moses,
some of the Gospel authors provide clear allusions.22 Early tradition is shaped so
as to portray Jesus with traits of Elijah and of the first Elijah redivivus, Elisha.23
Fourth, it is now generally recognized that Jewish messianic expectations dur-
ing the Second Temple period were varied, to say the least. A māšîahi need not be
royal or Davidic or overtly “political” in the sense that was often presupposed in the
past.24 The double messianic expression found in Zechariah is confirmed by a num-
ber of Qumran fragments and extended into a threefold conception. In 1QS 9:10–
11, the anointed of Aaron and Israel are complemented by “the prophet”—which
is not contradictory, since kings, priests, and prophets alike were anointed in Jew-
ish tradition.25 Threefold expectations (prophetic, royal, and priestly) are supported
19 Josephus, Ant. 18.4–10, 85–87; 20.97–98, 169–72; J.W. 2.261–63; Acts 5:36–37. For a full
list, see Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 141–46.
20 Richard A. Horsley, “‘Like One of the Prophets of Old’: Two Types of Popular Prophets
at the Time of Jesus,” CBQ 47 (1985): 435–63; cf. Richard A. Horsley with John S. Hanson, Ban-
dits, Prophets, and Messiahs: Popular Movements in the Time of Jesus (1985; repr., Harrisburg, PA:
Trinity Press International, 1999).
21 Mark 6:4//Matt 13:57; Mark 6:14–16//Luke 9:7–9 and Matt 14:1–2; Mark 8:27–30//Matt
16:13–16, 20; Luke 9:18–21; and John 6:66–69; also Matt 13:57; 21:46; Luke 7:16; 13:33; 24:19;
John 4:19, 44; 9:17.
22 Particularly Matthew (Jesus on the mountain, five speeches, teacher of the law) and John
(allusions to Deuteronomy 18 in John 1:45; 7:14–18; 12:48–50; signs, law symbolism, portraying
Jesus as superior to Moses). See also Meeks, Prophet-King; Boismard, Moses or Jesus.
23 Jesus lives like Elijah in the desert, being served by wild animals (Mark 1:13); he raises a
dead child (Mark 5:21–24, 35–43). Luke adds to Mark’s Elijah/Elisha-like portrait by explicitly
employing Elijah/Elisha traditions as commentary on Jesus’ rejection as prophet in Nazareth
(Luke 4:24–27), by quoting directly from LXX 1 Kgdms 17:23 in the narrative of the widow at Nain
(Luke 7:15), and by calling Jesus’ death an ἀναλήμψις in a context involving fire from heaven
(Luke 9:51 and the following narrative). See Joseph G. Kelly, “Lucan Christology and the Jewish-
Christian Dialogue,” JES 21 (1984): 688–708.
24 There have been several decisive studies of Jewish messianic expectations during the last
years, notably John J. Collins, The Scepter and the Star: The Messiahs of the Dead Sea Scrolls and
Other Ancient Literature (ABRL; New York: Doubleday, 1995); Johannes Zimmermann, Messi-
anische Texte aus Qumran (WUNT 2/104; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998); cf. James H.
Charlesworth, ed., The Messiah: Developments in Earliest Judaism and Christianity (Minneapolis:
Fortress, 1992).
25 For prophetic anointing, see 1 Kgs 19:16; cf. Isa 61:1. Psalm 105:15 (= 1 Chr 16:22) men-
tions prophets and anointed in a parallelism. See also Sir 48:8; CD 2:12; 6:1; John J. Collins, “Jesus
by the testimonia of 4Q175.26 Prophetic figures are described as anointed in a num-

ber of texts, and in 4Q521 God’s anointed one, his māšîahi, is described in the
prophetic language of Isaiah 61, which we find also in Jesus’ message to the Bap-
tizer, as well as in his sermon in Nazareth (Luke 7:22//Matt 11:4–5; Luke 4:18–19).
An eschatological prophet may thus be regarded as one of several possible mes-
sianic figures at the time of Jesus, but this model suits the Gospels’ general picture
of Jesus better than royal or priestly figures. The preference for a prophetic messiah,
rather than a royal one, may also explain in part Jesus’ reluctance to be identified
as the messiah, as well as his unprovoked (?) dispute with the scribes concerning
the Davidic lineage of the messiah, a conception that he emphatically denies with
the help of scriptural interpretation (Mark 12:35–36).27
Fifth, the sonship assigned to Jesus by the Gospel authors may be understood
in the context of Jewish religion and culture as having roots in the earliest Jesus
traditions rather than as a Hellenistic construct. “Son of God” in a Jewish context
should be understood as a relational metaphor; it is used as a designation for the
people of Israel in general, for the king in particular, and, during the Second Tem-
ple period, for righteous individuals.28 The Qumran fragment 4Q246 may indicate
the use of “Son of God” for a messianic royal figure. Considering what we know
today of Second Temple Judaism, it is reasonable to think that Jesus himself appro-
priated a particular father–son relationship with God, as indicated by the Gospels’
and the Messiahs of Israel,” in Geschichte – Tradition – Reflexion: Festschrift für Martin Hengel
zum 70. Geburtstag (ed. Hubert Cancik, Hermann Lichtenberger, and Peter Schäfer; 3 vols.;
Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 3:287–302, here 296–97; Zimmermann, Messianische Texte,
312–14.
26 Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 428–36. See also Zimmermann’s discussion of the com-
bination of royal, priestly, and prophetic conceptions in 4Q174 and CD 7 in reference to the Inter-
preter of the Law (pp. 436–41); and Collins, Scepter and the Star, 115.
27 See Christoph Burger, Jesus als Davidssohn: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung
(FRLANT, 98; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1970), 42–71, 165–78. Burger’s idea is that
historically, Jesus was not of Davidic descent, and that the genealogies of Matthew and Luke are
late constructions. For a different interpretation on the level of Mark, see Joel Marcus, The Way
of the Lord: Christological Exegesis of the Old Testament in the Gospel of Mark (Louisville: West-
minster/John Knox, 1992), 130–52.
28 Texts such as Psalms 82; 89:6–8; and Job 1:6; 2:1 may rightly be understood as reflecting
the general idea in Near Eastern mythology of a pantheon being regarded as sons of God, although
monotheism reshaped them into angelic beings. See, e.g., the Canaanite texts from Ugarit (Baal
and Yamm, KTU 1.2 i.20–21) or the watcher tradition in 1 Enoch 1–36 and the interpretation of
Gen 6:1–5 in Jub. 5:1–2; see Frederick J. Murphy, Early Judaism: The Exile to the Time of Jesus
(Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2002), 140–42. The designation of Jesus as Son of God seems, how-
ever, to be part of another trajectory—the use of sonship terminology for human beings, such as
Israelites in general, the king in particular, or righteous individuals (Exod 4:22; 2 Sam 7:14; Pss 2:7;
89:26–27; Jer 31:9, 20; Hos 11:1; Wis 2:18; Pss. Sol. 17:28–30; 4Q246). Evidence for righteous indi-
viduals as “sons of God,” roughly contemporary with Jesus (Honi and Hanina ben Dosa; m. Ta van.
3:8; b. Ta van. 24b; b. Hi ag. 15b), has been championed by Geza Vermes, Jesus the Jew: A Historian’s
Reading of the Gospel (1973; 2nd ed.; London: SCM, 1994), 206–10.
portrayal of his prayer practice. Such “divine sonship” is best understood in a

prophetic context, as designating the relationship between God and a “man of God.”
Sixth, the peculiar expression that many would regard as Jesus’ own self-
designation, “Son of Man,” although to some a scholarly cul-de-sac, may also be
subsumed into the typology of an eschatological prophet. Following the overgrown
tracks of T. W. Manson, C. F. D. Moule, and Lloyd Gaston, who advocated a col-
lective interpretation of the expression, in line with Daniel’s use of the image as a
symbol of the kingdom of God and its faithful remnant,29 we may understand the
Son of Man as Jesus’ primary metaphor of the kingdom—a kingdom that he him-
self, together with his disciples, represented and enacted. There is not space to
pursue this line of interpretation here, but it would suggest that Jesus, as an eschato-
logical prophet, should be regarded not as an isolated individual but as a leading
representative, at one with his people.30
Finally, even the ambiguous “Servant of the Lord” could possibly be viewed
within the paradigm of an eschatological, messianic prophet. Although fraught
with many pitfalls, not least because of the theological preconceptions of vicarious
suffering and atonement associated with it,31 this symbol of remnant Israel is
29 Thomas W. Manson, The Teaching of Jesus: Studies of Its Form and Content (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1931), 211–36; C. F. D. Moule, The Phenomenon of the New Testa-
ment: An Inquiry into the Implications of Certain Features of the New Testament (SBT 2/1; London:
SCM, 1967), 21–42; idem, Essays in New Testament Interpretation (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1982), 75–90; Lloyd Gaston, No Stone on Another: Studies in the Significance of the
Fall of Jerusalem in the Synoptic Gospels (NovTSup 23; Leiden: Brill, 1970), 370–409.
30 I have made a new case for a collective or “corporate” interpretation of “Son of Man” in
“Son of Man as Kingdom Imagery: Jesus between Corporate Symbol and Individual Redeemer
Figure,” in Jesus from Judaism to Christianity: Continuum Approaches to the Historical Jesus (ed.
Tom Holmén; Library of New Testament Studies 352; European Studies on Christian Origins;
Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2007), 87–108. See also idem, “The Coming Son of Man Revisited,” Jour-
nal for the Study of the Historical Jesus 5 (2007): 157–76. A “functional similarity and rhetorical
affinity” between the kingdom and Son of Man symbols are highlighted by Arto Järvinen, “Jesus
as a Community Symbol in Q,” in The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (ed. Andreas
Lindemann; BETL 158; Leuven: University Press, 2001), 515–21; quotation from 517.
31 The older view that Jesus saw himself as a combined Son of Man and Isaianic Servant, suf-
fering vicariously, was decisively challenged by Morna Hooker, Jesus and the Servant: The Influ-
ence of the Servant Concept in Deutero-Isaiah in the New Testament (London: SPCK, 1959); cf.
C. K. Barrett, “The Background of Mark 10:45,” in New Testament Essays: Studies in Memory of
T. W. Manson (ed. Angus J. B. Higgins; Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1959), and oth-
ers. It has been maintained by some, however, usually with a dogmatic flavor. See Peter Stuhl-
macher, “Der Messianische Gottesknecht,” in Der Messias (Jahrbuch für Biblische Theologie;
Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1993), 131–54. Although admitting the absence of firm
evidence, Martin Hengel nevertheless suggests that pre-Christian Judaism entertained an idea of
a messianic individual suffering vicariously (“Zur Wirkungsgeschichte von Jes 53 in vorchristlicher
Zeit,” in Der leidende Gottesknecht: Jesaja 53 und seine Wirkungsgeschichte (ed. Bernd Janowski and
Peter Stuhlmacher; FAT 14; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 49–91, here 90–91. Cf. Dunn, Jesus
Remembered, 806–18.
described in language typical of the calling, fear, suffering, vocation, and vindica-
tion of the prophets.32 Arguments for the “Suffering Servant” of Isaiah 50 and 52–
53 as paradigmatic in Second Temple messianic expectations are extremely weak.
The most we can say is that there are possible allusions in a few Qumran texts, of
which one probably mentions a māšîah.i 33 However, the idea of a remnant playing
a prophetic, and through suffering somehow decisive, role may be gathered both
from the Isaianic image of the Servant and from the Danielic image of the Son of
Man.34 In both cases the images may be taken as representing collective entities
with the potential to become objects of identification for eschatological prophetic
movements and their leaders.35
Viewed from this perspective, the typology of an eschatological prophet could
be regarded as a “root model” to which most other christological conceptions can
be related. It is plausible as an explanation for historical expectations concerning
Jesus, as well as for literary and theological developments of the picture of Jesus
found in various gospel traditions. It may be regarded as constitutive in subsequent
christological elaborations.
Considered in the role of an eschatological prophet, Jesus exhibits a number
of characteristic traits. His message is one of judgment and restoration: judgment
on oppression, social injustice, and hypocrisy; restoration of the people, especially
32 Persecution and suffering were intimately associated with the prophetic role and the
anointed prophet’s vocation to bring the people to conversion and restoration. His task is that of
a “servant”; see 2 Kgs 17:13, 23; 21:10; 24:2; Ezra 9:11; Jer 7:25; 25:4; 26:5; 29:19; 35:15; 44:4; Dan
9:6, 10; Amos 3:7; Zech 1:6. The two model servant prophets, Moses and Elijah, both offered their
lives or invited death (Exod 32:32; Deut 34:5; 1 Kgs 19:4).
33 4Q491 frag. 11, line 1 [4Q491c]; 4Q541; Zimmermann, Messianische Texte, 276, 306–7;
Israel Knohl, The Messiah before Jesus: The Suffering Servant of the Dead Sea Scrolls (S. Mark Taper
Foundation Imprint in Jewish Studies; Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2000),
75–86, is far too speculative. Cf. the skepticism of Collins (“Jesus and the Messiahs,” 290–92).
34 See Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 805–18.
35 As subsequent Christian interpretation shows, it became impossible to avoid associating
the Isaianic Servant imagery with a contested and persecuted prophetic figure like Jesus. The
impetus may have come from Jesus himself, even if he did not identify himself with the Servant
as an individual redeemer figure. Almost fifty years ago, Morna Hooker, in her influential study,
pointed to the lack of evidence to support the assertion that the Isaianic Servant provided the
early Christian movement with a messianic paradigm for Jesus or an interpretation of Jesus’ death
as vicarious atonement. She did, however, distinguish between the meaning and the fact of suf-
fering, seeing the Servant symbol of faithful Israel as “one element in the whole pattern of suffer-
ing and exaltation which marks all Deutero-Isaiah’s thought.” Hence, as a representative of Israel,
Jesus “may well have seen in Deutero-Isaiah’s oracles the description of Israel’s sufferings, of which
his own were a part,” although the pattern of suffering against which Jesus’ own understanding
must be studied “is much wider in its scope” (Jesus and the Servant, xi, 147–63). For a recent inter-
pretation of Jesus and his followers as a “servant community,” see Sean Freyne, Jesus, A Jewish
Galilean: A New Reading of the Jesus-Story (London: T&T Clark, 2004), in particular ch. 4 (pp. 92–
121); idem, “Jesus and the ‘Servant’ Community in Zion: Continuity in Context,” in Jesus from
Judaism to Christianity, ed. Holmén, 109–24.
the poor, the marginalized, and the maltreated.36 He is portrayed as a charismatic

and messianic prophet of action, reenacting past history,37 alluding to covenant
myths,38 and inaugurating God’s kingdom by defeating evil through healings and
exorcisms,39 and by his exceptional table fellowship,40 both clearly restorative in
character. Jesus is further understood as anticipating the possibility of prophetic
martyrdom for himself as well as for his followers. This is inherent in the prophetic
role itself—past and present history would have alerted any Jewish prophet to mar-
tyrdom as a real risk—but at some stage this has been further reinforced by the
imagery of the Son of Man and the Servant of the Lord. The idea that such mar-
tyrdom could have positive results for others is not far away.41 Finally, the prophetic
vocation involves a close relationship to the divine, which is exemplified by Jesus’
“sonship awareness,” exhibited in his particular prayer practice, for which he was
remembered. The father–child relationship and the relational language were appar-
ently taken over and treasured by his early followers.42
As is clear from this list of characteristics, “eschatological” need not necessar-
36 This double focus on judgment and restoration is typical in most of the biblical prophets
and conspicuous in expectations of coming prophetic figures. In Deuteronomy 18 the context is

primarily one of judgment (on sorcery and disobedience), but in subsequent interpretation
restoration plays an important role. In Malachi 3 and 4, judgment is likewise prominent, but the
theme of restoration is made explicit (3:3–4, 10–12, 17–18; 4:2, 6).
37 Acting like Moses, Elijah, Elisha (see nn. 22 and 23 above), David (Mark 2:23–8), and
Jonah (but better, Mark 4:35–41).

38 Mark 9:2–8 parr.; 14:22–25 parr. Cf. the frequent allusions to the exodus tradition found
in several biblical prophets. For examples of roughly contemporary eschatological prophetic fig-
ures reenacting past history and alluding to covenant myths, see, e.g., Horsley (n. 20 above), as well
as Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus.
39 While healing has little precedence in the scribal prophets of the Hebrew Bible, it does
occur as part of prophetic expectation of future judgment and restoration (e.g., Isaiah 35), par-
ticularly in subsequent eschatological interpretation (cf. 4Q521 2 II, 1–14). Perhaps more impor-
tant, healings belong to the constitutive elements of the Elijah-Elisha tradition, which is one crucial
root of an eschatological prophet typology.
40 At this particular point, it is uncertain whether clear precedents can be found in escha-
tological prophet typologies of the Second Temple period. Table fellowship, however, certainly
belongs to eschatological prophetic imagery (the banquet of the Lord) and is applied with escha-
tological connotations by the Qumran sectarians. (It is uncertain whether any eschatological
meaning should be ascribed to other table fellowships, such as the hăi bûrôt.) The manner in which
Jesus appropriated this theme in his own practice and with eschatological connotations thus has
parallels, although his particular “inversion” may be unique.
41 See 1 Macc 2:50; 6:44; 2 Macc 7:37 for a “positive” role of martyrdom.
42 See Joachim Jeremias, The Prayers of Jesus (SBT 2/6; London: SPCK, 1965), 11–65; idem,
New Testament Theology (London: SCM, 1971), 61–68. The exceptional character of Jesus’ prayer
practice has been questioned, and it is true that the image of God as father was not a new idea but
an integral part of Second Temple Judaism. Nor is Abba equal to “Daddy.” Descriptions of Jesus’
father imagery and manner of prayer nevertheless convey a peculiar “charismatic” intimacy, found
even in Pauline churches. See below.
ily mean an end-of-the-world perspective. As I have argued elsewhere,43 we need

to allow for evocative and ideological uses of apocalyptic language and imagery
that do not necessarily imply fixed eschatological schemes.44 While I do not follow,
for example, Marcus Borg’s “temperate case for a non-eschatological Jesus” in all
respects,45 I think that Jesus’ kingdom vision had more to do with present practice
or ethics than with some Weltuntergang sort of millennialism. To deny the pres-
ence of “apocalyptic eschatology” in the earliest Jesus tradition is going too far46—
the kingdom must be understood as an eschatological utopia47—but there is still
much wisdom in G. B. Caird’s pertinent observations on the meaning of eschato-
logical language.48
In what follows, I will argue that an eschatological prophet as root model for
evolving christologies can be confirmed by the christopraxy of early Christ-believ-
ers. By examining their social and religious practice, as it apparently reflected what
they viewed as Jesus’ own attitudes and behaviors, we find evidence that their con-
ception of Jesus was of an eschatological prophetic type. The traits listed above as
signifying an eschatological prophet typology will be traced through early textual
evidence.49
43 Kazen, “Coming Son of Man.”

44 Borg prefers not to use the term “eschatology” in a broad sense; he reserves it for immi-
nent end-of-the-world expectations that he does not ascribe to Jesus. See Marcus Borg, Jesus in
Contemporary Scholarship (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1994), 70–74. This makes
sense from an etymological point of view, but does it correspond to the current use of the term?
There is a similar but opposite problem with employing the word “apocalyptic” as a qualifier for
Jesus. In a Semitic context, neither “apocalypticism” nor “eschatology” need imply an end of the
world in a Western or modern sense. Without this terminology, however, it is difficult to discuss
how Jesus deviated from and yet came out of the movement of the Baptizer, and how his kingdom
terminology was interpreted in support of specific types of “eschatologies” by subsequent follow-
ers. For discussions on terminology, see John Dominic Crossan, “Eschatology, Apocalypticism,
and the Historical Jesus,” in Jesus Then and Now: Images of Jesus in History and Christology (ed.
Marvin Meyer and Charles Hughes; Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2001), 91–112;
Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 398–401. On Q in particular, see John S. Kloppenborg, “Symbolic
Eschatology and the Apocalypticism of Q,” HTR 80 (1987): 287–306; Risto Uro, “Apocalyptic Sym-
bolism and Social Identity in Q,” in Symbols and Strata: Essays on the Sayings Gospel Q (ed. Risto
Uro; Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society 65; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht,
1996), 67–118.
45 This is the title of the third chapter in Borg, Jesus in Contemporary Scholarship, 47–68.
46 See John Dominic Crossan, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peas-
ant (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 1991), 284–93; idem, The Birth of Christianity: Discovering
What Happened in the Years Immediately after the Execution of Jesus (Edinburgh: T&T Clark,
1998), 305–16. Note, however, Crossan’s qualifying discussion on terminology in “Eschatology,”
in Jesus Then and Now, ed. Meyer and Hughes.
47 See Mary Ann Beavis, Jesus and Utopia: Looking for the Kingdom of God in the Roman
World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006).

48 George. B. Caird, The Language and Imagery of the Bible (London: Duckworth, 1980),
243–71.
49 Most of these traits are commonly mentioned as characteristics of Jesus’ role figure, for
II. Reflections in Paul
Reliable evidence for early community practice among Christ-believers is

really found only in Paul’s undisputed letters, and even there we are nowadays aware
of the difficulties of having access to the voice of only one party, in addition to the
question of the extent to which a number of passages should be understood as pri-
marily descriptive or prescriptive. Nevertheless, Paul’s writings are closer in time to
Jesus than any others. We may also be confident that Paul is not painting rosy pic-
tures to feed future readers’ romantic ideas of a golden age. Rather, he describes
very concrete problems, misbehaviors, and abuses in those early communities that
were dependent on him.
In spite of not rehearsing Jesus traditions, except in an irregular and frag-
mentary way, Paul’s letters open a window onto an early christopraxy that corre-
sponds to our picture of Jesus as an eschatological prophet. For example, we find
in Paul the particular combination of judgment on oppressive and socially unjust
behavior with serious warnings against judging others that we know from the Jesus
tradition (Rom 2:1–11; 14:1–13; 1 Cor 6:1–8).
We also find an emphasis on table fellowship, which recalls Jesus’ actions, in
spite of differing contexts. As a self-evident part of practice among early Christ-
believers, communal meals, including the Lord’s Supper, enacted an integrative
covenant, embracing Jews and Gentiles, poor and rich, men and women, slaves and
free. People of various ethnic and social backgrounds were eating together, thus
reflecting in a way Jesus’ own table fellowship (1 Cor 11:17–34; 12:12–13; Gal 2:11–
14; 3:26–28).50 This communal eating is discussed by Paul several times: in Gala-
tians relating to the issue of the relationship between Jews and Gentiles and in
1 Corinthians in the context of social conflicts. Whether from an ethnic or social
perspective, or even both, communal eating also caused conflicts about sacrificial
meat (Romans 14; 1 Corinthians 8). The indignation with which Paul discusses
various kinds of abuses in the context of meals shows how important they were in
his thinking. These abuses, he says, make communal eating cause damage rather
example, “the combination of free healing and common eating, a religious and economic egalitar-
ianism that negated alike and at once the hierarchical and patronal normalcies of Jewish religion
and Roman power” (Crossan, Historical Jesus, 422; cf. 303–53; Birth of Christianity, 293–304, 419–
44). Crossan’s reconstruction in Birth of Christianity is an attempt to outline the nature of the ear-
liest Jesus movement during the 30s and 40s. The method, with which I agree in principle, is one
of bringing context and text into conjunction, but it depends on a detailed stratigraphy of texts,
retrieving the earliest layer (Birth of Christianity, 139–49; see appendixes 1–7, pp. 587–605). Cf.
the similar method in Historical Jesus, xxvii–xxxiv, and appendixes 1–7, pp. 427–66. The results
have not remained uncontested. In part, Crossan discusses similar material and similar themes
(characteristics) but with a different focus. My underlying question differs: To what extent is an
early view or interpretation of Jesus corroborated by evidence from early practice?
50 Cf. the ban on table fellowship within the community in 1 Cor 5:11.
than bring gain, but he tries to correct the damage by referring to the narrative of
Jesus’ last meal as an ideal for worthy table fellowship (1 Cor 11:17, 23–25). It is in
a discussion on eating that we find the injunction “Become my imitators as I am
Christ’s” (1 Cor 11:1). The table fellowship of Paul’s communities is thus under-
stood as imitating or reenacting Jesus’ behavior. In addition, when discussing meals,
Paul refers not only to the covenant myth particular to the Jesus tradition but also
to the exodus story (1 Cor 10:1–13).
Meals involve sharing, but Paul also appeals explicitly to Jesus’ own example
in other contexts where sharing is in focus. This is particularly the case with the
Jerusalem collection, which is motivated by the poverty of Jesus (2 Cor 8:1–15).51
Turning our attention to suffering, here too Paul refers to Jesus as motivation
and example for his own pains. Indeed, in Paul’s mind Jesus’ role figure becomes an
argument for followers in general to be prepared for persecution, hardships, and
severe suffering. This motif recurs a number of times (e.g., Rom 8:17; 2 Cor 1:3–7;
Phil 3:10; cf. 3:17), and the character of martyrdom as christopraxy is perhaps most
evident in 1 Thess 1:6: “And you became my imitators, and the Lord’s, receiving
the word through much suffering, in the joy of the holy spirit.” In the case of Paul
himself, we even find the idea of personal suffering becoming somehow advanta-
geous for others (2 Cor 1:6; 4:10–12; cf. Col 1:24).
Finally, Paul’s letters provide evidence that Jesus’ particular sonship con-
sciousness and manner of prayer had become paradigmatic even for more west-
erly Greek-speaking believers. The sense of sonship inherited from the Jesus
tradition is appropriated by members of Pauline communities, whether Jews or
Gentiles, and attached to the gift of the spirit, thus signifying the kind of close rela-
tionship to the divine that was normally associated with prophets in Jewish tradi-
tion. In both Galatians and Romans, which contain elaborate discussions on divine
sonship, the Aramaic Abba occurs as a self-evident expression of the prayer prac-
tice found in Pauline churches. This relational language conforms to Jesus’ own
prophetic behavior (Gal 4:6; Rom 8:15).
In sum, in the letters of Paul we find evidence for a number of social and reli-
gious practices focused on justice, integration, and restoration among early Christ-
believers. There are traces of the reenactment of past history and foundational
myths and a strong emphasis on table fellowship. We note a readiness for suffering
and martyrdom, for the sake of what is good. Finally, there is a spirituality in which
a spirit-filled close relationship to the divine is understood as sonship, expressing
itself in particular manners of prayer. Many of these practices are associated with
Jesus’ own example, thus motivating the use of the term christopraxy to define
them. They represent typical traits of Jesus’ own practice as understood by early
followers within the paradigm of an eschatological prophet.
51 2 Corinthians 8:9 appeals to Jesus’ poverty as an argument.
III. Reflections in Acts
When dealing with Luke’s descriptions of practice in the early Jesus move-
ment in the first chapters of Acts, we find ourselves both earlier and later in time
than with Paul. Earlier, because the narrative concerns the earliest post-Easter fol-
lowers of Jesus in Jerusalem; later, because the narrative is shaped toward the end
of the first century. While it would be naïve to take Acts as a historical report of
early Christ-believers in Jerusalem, it would be equally simplistic to read Luke’s
narratives as representing general Christian practice and belief in his own time and
environment. Rather, we should regard these descriptions as revealing what some
late-first-century Christians, such as the author of Acts, thought about practice and
belief in the earliest Jerusalem community of Christ-believers during the thirties.52
Foolproof methods for separating one level from another do not exist. Relat-
ing to the quest for the historical Jesus, I have argued elsewhere against concep-
tions of historical inquiry as a peeling away of the husk in order to retrieve a
historical kernel, and similar considerations apply here too.53 In general, redaction
in narrative texts, such as Acts or the Gospels, is often more of a “dye” than a layer.54
How, then, can we decide whether community practice or eschatological prophet
and messianic typologies as described in the early chapters of Acts reflect anything
but Luke’s own late-first-century context?
Arguments have to rely on comparison and plausibility. It is true that Luke in
his Gospel as well as in Acts exhibits a concern for the poor and a passion for jus-
tice (although moderns readily detect a patronizing and patriarchal flavor).55 It is
also clear that Luke often enhances Jesus’ prophetic traits, including allusions to
52 SeeRudolf Pesch’s discussion of the first two Sammelberichte in Acts (Acts 2:42–47 and
4:32–35) (Die Apostelgeschichte [EKKNT 5; 2 vols.; Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn:
Neukirchener Verlag, 1986], 1:128–33, 179–88). These are not to be taken solely as Lukan cre-
ations, but as pre-Lukan traditions reworked by the author. While the language may lead to asso-
ciations with “antiken Urzeitdarstellungen und Staatsutopien,” the traditions behind these
summaries belong rather to a trajectory of biblical eschatological expectation.
53 See Thomas Kazen, Jesus and Purity Halakhah: Was Jesus Indifferent to Impurity?
(ConBNT 38; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 2002), 12–41, 95–98.

54 See John R. Donahue’s comment on Mark: “Most of it is ‘tradition’ . . . all of it is compo-
sition” (“Redaction Criticism: Has the Hauptstrasse Become a Sackgasse?” in The New Literary
Criticism and the New Testament [ed. Edgar V. McKnight and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon;
JSNTSup 109; Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994], 27–57, here 40). This denies neither the
possibility of faithful transmissions of traditional material nor the presence of obviously redac-
tional or secondary material, including free compositions by the author.
55 See Mikael Winninge, “Värnade Lukas om de fattiga—eller är det bara kristet öns-
ketänkande?” in Människa är ditt namn: om mänskliga rättigheter, mänsklig värdighet och teologi
(ed. Göran Gunner; Stockholm: Verbum, 2007), 200–246.
the Elijah-Elisha cycle.56 To conclude that communal ownership and “primitive

christology” define Luke’s own context is, however, quite implausible. Luke also
gives evidence for a “higher” christology (cf. Luke 10:21–24) and the latter parts of
Acts provide possible hints for a patron–client system that is more likely to be
expected in Luke’s own late-first-century environment.57 The early descriptions in
Acts are rather construed to convey the image of a golden age. We should also con-
sider the fact that Luke’s own eschatology, for example, in his redaction of Jesus’
eschatological discourse, seems much less imminent and far more realized than
the eschatological picture provided in the early chapters of Acts, which suggests
that the material in Acts is an attempt to portray conditions in the early Jerusalem
community, while the eschatological discourse is crafted to be of relevance for
Luke’s readers.
We could, of course, suggest that Luke pictures something that never existed.
This is true, insofar as the early chapters of Acts provide an idealization and a nar-
rative construct, and it may be argued also when Luke is compared to Paul in other
respects. For good reasons Luke is usually deemed the less trustworthy of the two,
in particular when Paul must be taken as a firsthand witness. Apart from minor
details, there are crucial issues where the discrepancy between them is obvious.
Luke provides a much more ordered picture of Christian expansion, with the idea
of early mission activity being systematically organized and implemented through
subsequent stages.58 Furthermore, his description is consistently harmonizing, ton-
ing down personal conflicts, especially tensions between Jews and Gentiles.59
In view of all this, however, the close points of contact between Luke and Paul
in the particular areas that we are here discussing must be considered conspicuous
and should alert our sensitivity. In Luke’s construction of Peter’s first speech (Acts
2:14–40), Jesus is described as an heir of David, raised by God and exalted by (or
to) his right hand, thereby receiving the spirit, which he pours out on his follow-
ers. Although Jesus was crucified by the people, God has made him both Lord and
Messiah. This is very similar to what Paul says in Rom 1:3–4: Jesus is an heir of
David, appointed Son of God at his resurrection from the dead, and although Christ
has become more or less a surname, Jesus is defined as Lord and Messiah. Later in
the same letter, and also in Galatians, Paul associates the gift of the spirit with the
resurrected Christ. Although the emphasis on sonship in Paul has no exact corre-
56 SeeKelly, “Lucan Christology.”

57 Cf.Lydia in Acts 16:11–15; Jason (and the wealthy women) in 17:1–9.
58 Note Luke’s idea of stages (Jerusalem, Samaria, and beyond to Antioch), including mak-
ing Peter responsible for the first Gentile mission, subsequently approved by the Jerusalem
collegium, and then the Pauline mission in the form of organized journeys. See Pesch, Apostel-
geschichte, 1:51.
59 Compare Luke’s descriptions of the incident at Antioch, the Jerusalem meeting, Paul’s
relationship to Jerusalem, and Paul’s character in general with the picture relayed by Paul’s own
letters. For a list of discrepancies between Paul and Luke, see, e.g., Jacob Jervell, Die Apostel-
geschichte (KEK 3; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 81.
spondence in Acts, the similarities are obvious. We find a developing Davidic mes-
sianic christology, but in Acts it clearly builds on traits of an early eschatological
prophet typology. Jesus is commissioned, and he is confirmed by God through his
signs and mighty deeds. In Peter’s speech the context is one of eschatological judg-
ment and restoration, and Jesus is described as a prophetic martyr, with a particu-
larly close relationship to God. These traits become even clearer in Peter’s second
speech in Acts 3, which could be taken as reflecting a “proto-christology” of a “pre-
Davidic” prophetic type.60 Jesus is repeatedly designated as “servant” and described
as the holy and righteous one whose sufferings were predicted by Scripture. He
appears as an anointed, eschatological prophet, the messianic prophet of Deuteron-
omy 18, which is explicitly quoted as part of the argument (3:22–23). His task is
associated with God’s covenant with Abraham and consists of turning the people
from their wicked ways. He will return as Messiah from heaven when everything
is to be restored.
While many of these traits are certainly dependent on Easter faith, the general
tenor reflects a primitive eschatological prophet typology. Rather than taking this
to reflect a late-first-century christology propagated by Luke, I assume that the
interpretation of Jesus’ role in Peter’s two speeches represents Luke’s (and other
late-first-century Christians’) ideas of how Jesus’ role might have been understood
by early post-Easter Christ-believers.61 And rather than regarding such an idea as
a mere construct, I take it as a reflection of early ideas. This is the most reasonable
explanation of the conspicuous similarities with Pauline expressions that we have
observed.
It is all the more plausible when we look at how Luke depicts early practice in
the Jerusalem church. Here too, similarities with what we find in Paul are striking,
in spite of discrepancies in other areas. The early chapters of Acts describe an inte-
grative community of “Hebrews” and “Hellenists,” where people are physically
restored and where the rich share their possessions and social justice is furthered,
while hypocritical behavior in this respect is condemned. The communal aspects
of early practice among believers are emphasized, particularly table fellowship and
communal ownership, and it is precisely in these two areas that, in spite of Luke’s
general idealization, abuse is noted.62 Similarities to the picture retrieved from Paul
are obvious63 and the practice is clearly imitative of the Jesus tradition: justice and
judgment, healing and eating, sharing and integration belong to the characteriza-
tion of Jesus within an eschatological prophet paradigm.
60 See John A. T. Robinson, “Elijah, John and Jesus: An Essay in Detection,” NTS 4 (1958):
263–81.
61 See
Hans Conzelmann, Acts of the Apostles: A Commentary on the Acts of the Apostles
(Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987), xliv; Jervell, Apostelgeschichte, 162–73.
62 For example, the “fraud” by Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5:1–11) and the mismanage-
ment of meal distribution to “hellenic” widows (Acts 6:1–6).

63 See above and particularly the references to Romans, 1 Corinthians, and Galatians on pp.
601–2 above.
In addition to koinōnia and diakonia, Luke also describes a readiness for suf-
fering, humiliation, and martyrdom, to the point of “rejoicing . . . that they had
been counted worthy of being dishonored for the sake of the name” (Acts 5:41; cf.
4:19–20; 7:54–60). As we have seen above, the character of martyrdom as christo-
praxy is conspicuous in Paul. For Luke, in Acts, this goes back to the Jesus tradition,
with its expectations of prophetic martyrdom to be shared by Jesus and his disci-
ples alike (e.g., Luke 6:20–26; 13:31–35).64 Finally, just as in Paul, early community
practice includes intensive prayer, associated with the gift of the spirit, and in imi-
tation of Jesus’ own practice (Acts 1:14; 2:1–4, 42; 4:23–31).65
As we have seen, the early chapters of Acts contain traits that very much cor-
respond to what we find in Paul and associate social and religious practice among
early Christ-believers, as imagined by Luke, with an early eschatological prophet
typology. This is probably Luke’s express intent, as he makes Gamaliel compare the
new movement with earlier ones, known from Josephus, and likewise led by mes-
sianic, eschatological prophets (Acts 5:33–39). While Luke often gets historical and
chronological details wrong and provides a rosier picture than does Paul, there is
no reason to disregard or deny his general picture of practice among early follow-
ers of Jesus, imitating Jesus’ prophetic traits. Although certainly a narrative con-
struct, it suggests that Pauline communities were not the only ones that exhibited
a basic dependence on an eschatological prophet typology for their practices and
beliefs.
IV. Reflections in Q
Turning to Q involves even more difficulties than Acts, the most obvious being
the simple fact that the source we discuss is a construction. Furthermore, we have
to “mirror-read” to some extent if we are to draw any conclusions about the prac-
tice of a hypothetical “Q community” (or, more loosely, a “Q people”). The latter
objection is valid with respect to Mark as well.
The problem of mirror reading has been much discussed and should be taken
seriously. While I agree with those who criticize an exaggeratedly allegorical read-
ing of the Gospel texts, I do think there are clues to the general outlook and prac-
tice of the early groups of people that shaped such texts.66 Although overly detailed
64 See Thomas Kazen, “Son of Man and Early Christian Identity Formation,” in Identity For-
mation in the New Testament (ed. Bengt Holmberg and Mikael Winninge; WUNT 227; Tübingen:
Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 97–122.
65 In addition to general and commonplace observations about Jesus’ manner of prayer and
use of “father” in the Jesus tradition, note the relationship between Luke’s special tradition in
Luke 10:21–24 and descriptions of the early Jerusalem community in ecstatic joy and prayer (Acts
2:4, 46–47; 4:31).
66 See Richard Bauckham, “For Whom Were Gospels Written?” in The Gospels for All Chris-
tians: Rethinking the Gospel Audiences (ed. Richard Bauckham; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998),
constructions of hypothetical communities should be avoided, it is still possible to

argue that Jesus partly functions as a kind of community symbol in Q.67
Several scholars understand Q as a prophetic book, emphasizing Jesus’
prophetic character.68 Q’s organizing principle is seen as “judgment to this gener-
ation” according to a Deuteronomistic paradigm in which Israel’s disobedience and
persecution of the prophets are seen to come to a climax with the eschatological fig-
ures of the Baptizer and Jesus.69 Q could thus be taken to reflect an early prophet
typology of the kind that we are discussing.
The latest decades have seen a number of attempts to stratify Q, most notably
by John Kloppenborg Verbin,70 and prophetic elements have been assigned to the
Q2 stratum, which emphasizes judgment, in distinction to an earlier stratum intent
on wisdom teaching.71 A stratified Q has not been accepted by everyone,72 but this
9–48; Stephen C. Barton, “Can We Identify the Gospel Audiences?” in ibid., 173–94. I find Bauck-
ham’s criticism exaggerated, however. Cf. Philip F. Esler, “Community and Gospel in Early Chris-
tianity: A Response to Richard Bauckham’s Gospels for All Christians,” SJT 51 (1998): 235–48;
David C. Sim, “The Gospels for All Christians? A Response to Richard Bauckham,” JSNT 84
(2001): 3–27; Thomas Kazen, “Sectarian Gospels for Some Christians? Intention and Mirror Read-
ing in the Light of Extra-Canonical Texts,” NTS 51 (2005): 561–78. For an example of a fairly bal-
anced approach, see Graham N. Stanton, “Revisiting Matthew’s Communities,” in SBL 1994
Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1994), 9–23; idem, “The Communities of Matthew,” in
Gospel Interpretation: Narrative-Critical & Social-Scientific Approaches (ed. Jack Dean Kingsbury;
Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1997), 49–62.
67 Järvinen, “Community Symbol,” 515–21. Järvinen is, however, less confident about uti-
lizing Q in the quest for the historical Jesus. Cf. also Kazen, “Identity Formation.”
68 See Migaku Sato, Q und Prophetie: Studien zur Gattungs- und Traditionsgeschichte der
Quelle Q (WUNT 2/29; Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1988); Richard A. Horsley with Jonathan A.
Draper, Whoever Hears You Hears Me: Prophets, Performance and Tradition in Q (Harrisburg, PA:
Trinity Press International, 1999); Richard A. Horsley, “Introduction—Jesus, Paul, and the ‘Arts
of Resistance’: Leaves from the Notebook of James C. Scott,” in Hidden Transcripts and the Arts of
Resistance: Applying the Work of James C. Scott to Jesus and Paul (ed. Richard A. Horsley; SemeiaSt;
Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004), 1–26; idem, “The Politics of Disguise and Public
Declaration of the Hidden Transcript: Broadening Our Approach to the Historical Jesus with
Scott’s ‘Arts of Resistance’ Theory,” in Hidden Transcripts, ed. Horsley, 61–80.
69 John S. Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel
(Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), 118–28, 143; Arto Järvinen, “The Son of Man and His Followers,”
in Characterization in the Gospels: Reconceiving Narrative Criticism (ed. David Rhoads and Kari
Syreeni; JSNTSup 184: Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 180–222; Uro, “Apocalyptic
Symbolism,” 67–118.
70 John S. Kloppenborg, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections
(SAC; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987); cf. Sato, Q und Prophetie; Burton L. Mack, The Lost Gospel:
The Book of Q and Christian Origins (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1993); Leif E. Vaage,
Galilean Upstarts: Jesus’ First Followers according to Q (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press Interna-
tional, 1994).
71 For a convenient summary, see Kloppenborg, Formation, 317–28.
72 Richard A. Horsley, “The Contours of Q,” in Horsley with Draper, Whoever Hears You,
61–93 (based on previous articles; for references, see p. 63 n. 10); Christopher M. Tuckett, “On the
debate need not detain us, since it is not decisive for our present argument.73 As
Kloppenborg himself points out “[s]tratigraphical analysis has nothing to do with
the presumed age or provenance of either set of materials, or their claim to authen-
ticity. It is sheerly a literary issue.” In line with my view on an eschatological prophet
typology as constitutive for the Jesus tradition, I thus regard the prophetic stratum
of Q as essentially “original,” whether or not it is deemed secondary from the per-
spective of literary redaction.
Q abounds with judgment on hypocrisy, injustice, and wealth.74 It describes
the kingdom as a blessing for the poor and hungry, defeating evil and bringing
restoration to the sick and to outcasts, even to Gentiles.75 It portrays Jesus as a
prophetic fulfillment of messianic expectations.76
A most interesting passage for our purpose is the Q version of Jesus’ sending
of his disciples (Q 10:2–12). Luke presents this after the variant tradition of the
sending of the Twelve, which he inherited from Mark (Luke 9:1–6//Mark 6:6–13),
and he presents it as another sending of seventy-two disciples, to prepare for Jesus’
subsequent arrival. Matthew has rather chosen to fuse the two accounts into one
(Matt 10:1–15).77 Despite the risks involved in mirror reading, we should ask our-
selves whether this piece of Jesus tradition may somehow reflect the practice of the
early communities transmitting it.78 In Luke it may be read as a blueprint for a
broader group of disciples than the Twelve, corresponding to what he conceives of
Stratification of Q,” Semeia 55 (1991): 213–22; Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 152–58. Cf. also Järvi-
nen, “Son of Man,” 180–222; Jens Schröter, “The Son of Man as Representative of God’s King-
dom: On the Interpretation of Jesus in Mark and Q,” in Jesus, Mark and Q, ed. Labahn and
Schmidt, 34–68; Christopher M. Tuckett, “The Son of Man and Daniel 7: Q and Jesus,” in Sayings
Source, ed. Lindemann, 371–34.
73 My own position on Q is that I acknowledge it as the most plausible hypothesis for
explaining the Synoptic problem and consider it possible to reconstruct in general outline. At the
same time, I am somewhat reluctant to adopt too detailed a stratification. In addition, the idea that
some parallel material with a low degree of literal correspondence between Luke and Matthew
may be better explained by an oral rather than a literary relationship makes sense to me. For a dis-
cussion of oral Q material, see Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 224–38.
74 Q 3:7–9; (6:24–26); 6:39–45; 11:39–44, 46–52; (12:13–14, 16–21); 13:27–28; 16:13.
75 Q 6:20–23; 7:1b–2, 6b–10, 22–23; 11:14–20; 13:29–30; 14:16–24; 15:4–7.
76 Q 7:18–19, 22–23; 10:23b–24; 22:28–30. See Jacques Schlosser, “Q et la christologie
implicite,” in Sayings Source, ed. Lindemann, 289–316, here 313.

77 Francis W. Beare, “The Mission of the Disciples and the Mission Charge: Matthew 10 and
Parallels,” JBL 89 (1970): 1–13; W. D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Com-
mentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew (ICC; 3 vols.; London: T&T Clark, 1991–2004),
2:163–64; Risto Uro, Sheep among the Wolves: A Study on the Mission Instructions of Q (AASF,
Dissertationes Humanarum Litterarum 47; Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1987), 39–50;
Crossan, Birth of Christianity, 328–29.
78 See Richard A. Horsley, “Prophetic Envoys for the Renewal of Israel: Q 9:57–10:16,” in
Horsley with Draper, Whoever Hears You, 228–49. Horsley’s identification of “a prophetic exten-
sion of Jesus’ own prophetic mission by a prophetic movement” (p. 248) is part of an argument
against the idea of “itinerant charismatics,” in favor of a movement based on village communities.
and describes as early Christian missionary activity in Acts. The idea of a second
sending of a larger group (seventy or seventy-two—manuscripts are evenly divided)
is probably Lukan redaction.79 In Q, however, this tradition corresponds to Mark’s
narrative of Jesus’ sending of his disciples.80 We may thus argue that the differences
between this version and the Markan one may reveal something about the com-
munities living with the Q tradition. First, I take the Q version to be lacking refer-
ences to exorcisms by the disciples.81 The mention in Matt 10:8 may be taken as
influence from the Markan version, and it is doubtful whether any part of Luke
10:17–20 derives from Q.82 Second, there is an emphasis on table fellowship in the
Q version (Q 10:8); I take Matthew’s omission of this as resulting from his reser-
vations against possible interpretations of such a saying, similar to the interpreta-
tion of Gos. Thom. 14.83 Q would then reflect the fact that Jesus’ exorcistic activity
was not necessarily imitated by all of his subsequent followers, but open meal prac-
tice was and took on new dimensions, repeatedly causing conflicts.
Less speculative is the Q injunction to disciples to expect suffering and mar-
tyrdom (Q 14:27). This saying has a Markan version, too, repeated elsewhere by
Matthew and Luke. It is, however, clearly a separate Q tradition, associating mar-
tyrdom with christopraxy; discipleship is conditional on imitating Jesus’ suffering.
This corresponds to Jesus’ blessings in Q on the persecuted (Q 6:22–23) and fits
with the expectations of prophetic martyrdom so evident in Q, in spite of the
absence of a passion story (Q 11:49–51; 13:34).84
Finally, in Q, followers of Jesus are also depicted as sharing Jesus’ intimate
relationship to the divine. In the instructions for righteous living, used by Matthew
and Luke for the Sermons on the Mount and the Plain respectively, nonretributive
practice is understood as resulting in divine sonship (Q 6:35–36). Jesus’ sonship is
understood as both relationship and revelation, which he shares with his disciples,
and it is associated with the spirit (Q 10:21–24). His sonship is expressed in his
79 Beare, “Mission Charge,” 2–3; Uro, Sheep, 56–72; The strong Lukan flavor of the passage
is admitted even by Howard Marshall, although he prefers to regard it as based on tradition (The
Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text [NIGTC; Exeter: Paternoster, 1978], 414).
80 Whether it is appropriate to speak of a sending event in Q may be discussed. Without
Lukan redaction, the section contains missionary instructions that certainly reflect Jesus’ own
practice, but not necessarily any single-event sending. See Markus Tiwald, “Der Wanderradikalis-
mus als Brücke zum historischen Jesus,” in Sayings Source, ed. Lindemann, 523–34, here 532–33.
81 This is pointed out by Crossan, too, together with two other items in which Mark differs
from Q: a demand for repentance and the allowance of staff and sandals (Birth of Christianity,
328–30).
82 The section is not included (not even as “doubtful”) in the content list of Kloppenborg
Verbin, Excavating Q, 100. Even Sato, allowing for Luke 10:18–19 in an expanded Qlk, does not
include the crucial vv. 17 and 20 (Q und Prophetie, 55–56).
83 See Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:174. Furthermore, Matthew’s ἄξιος γὰρ ὁ ἐργάτης
τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ hardly suits the preceding phrase.

84 Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q, 369–74; Christopher M. Tuckett, Q and the History
of Early Christianity: Studies on Q (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 296–322.
manner of prayer, which he teaches his disciples (Q 11:2–4), and he explains the
consequences of this relationship, which he expects them to share, in a parable
about father–son interaction (Q 11:11–13).85
Although Q is a hypothetical document that does not directly describe the
behavior of early followers of Jesus, it seems to contain the same basic elements of
christopraxy that are found in Paul and Acts, confirming the eschatological and
prophetic character of an early “root typology.” Whether this typology belongs to
the earliest literary stratum of Q is not crucial to the argument. In any case, Q pro-
vides early evidence for an early community practice in imitation of most of the
traits that we listed above as characteristic of Jesus as an eschatological prophet.
V. Reflections in Mark
When dealing with Mark, we are returning to a text that provides us with
much of the evidence for Jesus as an eschatological prophet. As in the case of Q,
there is always a risk of circular reasoning when we mirror-read to find evidence
for early community practice in order to confirm the interpretation of Jesus’ role
drawn from these very texts.
The situation is, however, neither as simple, nor as bad as that. While clearly
at the root of the Gospel, a prophet christology is not Mark’s message. The author
rather guides his readers or hearers into a “fuller” understanding of Jesus as a mes-
sianic Son of God.86 Nevertheless, the typology of an eschatological prophet is
found barely below the surface, often with nostrils above. And it is this model that
shapes Markan instructions on discipleship and expectations concerning Jesus’ fol-
lowers. While acknowledging the problems involved in attempting to separate
“husk” from “kernel” (see above under “Reflections in Acts”), we may at least con-
clude that the impression given by the Markan text of believers’ behavior as relat-
ing to an eschatological prophet typology is not a result of Markan redactional
activity. Mark has a somewhat different agenda. The christopraxy that is reflected
must be in some sense “pre-Markan.” Whether we can trace it beyond Mark’s com-
munity/ies or his reception of the Jesus tradition is not of crucial importance. The
point is that here we have another source corroborating the evidence for an early
interpretation of Jesus as an eschatological prophet, continuing to influence the
practice of early Christ-believers.
Limiting ourselves to material that the readers or hearers of Mark would rea-
85 See Tuckett, who associates Jesus’ sonship language with wisdom texts, but also notes its
application to the disciples (Q and the History, 276–82).

86 William R. Telford, The Theology of the Gospel of Mark (NTT; Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999), 30–41. For a thorough discussion of the importance and meaning of “Son
of God” for Mark and his readers, see Adela Yarbro Collins, “Mark and His Readers: The Son of
God among Jews,” HTR 92 (1999): 393–408; eadem, “Mark and His Readers: The Son of God
among Greeks and Romans,” HTR 93 (2000): 85–100.
sonably have appropriated for themselves as guidelines for their own practice, we
encounter a correspondence similar to that found in Paul, Acts, and Q. While I am
hesitant to suggest that Mark’s narratives of Jesus sending out his disciples would
have been paradigmatic for the communities to which his Gospel first belonged,
there are other clues.
First, we find judgment on oppression and abuse, paired with care for the
small and weak, in Jesus’ teaching to his disciples (Mark 9:42–48). It is generally
agreed that the words about the mikroi are understood by Mark as directed to dis-
ciples in a broad sense, and the section as a whole seems to be adapted in order to
function as church instruction.87
Second, in the numerous narratives highlighting Jesus’ restorative kingdom
activities, such as healing and table fellowship, the disciples are often challenged or
charged, either because of Jesus’ behavior or their own. In the house of Levi, Jesus’
followers are held responsible for his table fellowship, but he answers his adver-
saries (Mark 2:16–17). In the following passage, Jesus has to defend his disciples for
not fasting (2:19), and later for picking corn on the Sabbath (2:23–28). In the
(in)famous hand-washing incident, the disciples are again accused of not con-
forming to expected norms, this time purity halakah, and Jesus defends their behav-
ior (7:1–13). In all cases, Jesus’ defense is fully in line with Israelite prophetic
tradition, emphasizing justice, mercy, and inner disposition. In all cases, Jesus’ atti-
tude can be interpreted as expressing his giving the kingdom and its purpose ulti-
mate priority. And in all cases, the narrative disciples behave in ways that later
become important for the practice of Markan communities in areas of table fel-
lowship, Sabbath keeping, and purity law.88 Hence, there are good reasons to believe
that these passages do not just coincidentally suit Markan Christ-believers but that
they are shaped to give possibilities for identification; thus in a sense they reflect
early christopraxy.
Third, the importance of a servant attitude is emphasized in Mark (9:35–37).
Instructions to the disciples in this respect end on a general note. This is the case,
too, with the issue of homelessness and giving up possessions. Jesus’ instructions to
his followers are framed so as to be understood as generally applicable (10:29–30).
These issues are intimately linked to the prophetic expectation of suffering and
martyrdom that is expressed in the three Markan predictions and concern not only
Jesus himself but also his disciples (cf. 8:34–37; 10:35–45). Just as in Q, this expec-
tation is associated with the idea of following or imitating Jesus. It suggests a readi-
ness for prophetic martyrdom not only among Jesus’ immediate followers but also
87 Morna D. Hooker, The Gospel according to Saint Mark (BNTC; Peabody, MA: Hendrick-
son, 1991), 230–31; cf. Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (Mk 8,27–16,20) (EKKNT
2.2; Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1979), 63–67.
88 In addition, the disciples also figure in the feeding miracle (Mark 6:30–44), where they are
challenged by Jesus (v. 37): δότε αὐτοῖς ὑμεῖς φαγεῖν, in a manner suggesting that this injunc-
tion is paradigmatic for the social practice of Markan believers.
in Mark’s context, and the discourse in Mark 13 emphasizes the eschatological char-
acter of the perspective (cf. Q 14:26–27; 17:33).89
Finally, just as Mark portrays Jesus in close relationship with God, as praying
(1:35) and pleading with God, using the Aramaic Abba (14:36), he makes this atti-
tude applicable to believers through Jesus’ teaching on prayer (11:22–25). Prayer is
linked with faith or confidence (πίστις) and forgiveness. While Mark uses “father”
for God only twice—it seems not to be a typical trait of his own outlook—these
two occasions are Jesus’ Abba-prayer in Gethsemane and his teaching on prayer in
which God is described as “your father.”
Although we have recognized the risks of mirror reading, instructions to dis-
ciples that may reasonably be taken as framed to be more generally applicable, that
is, to believers’ behavior in a Markan context, contain the same or similar traits as
the rest of the material discussed. Not only Mark’s picture of Jesus, but also early
christopraxy as traced in Mark, display those eschatological and prophetic traits
that we have listed repeatedly, in spite of Mark’s own christology having a slightly
different main point. The practice envisaged reflects the kingdom with its dual
message of judgment and restoration. It focuses on servant attitudes, suffering, and
martyrdom. It relates to the divine with a conspicuous nearness and trust, mani-
fested in prayer to God as father. In all this, social and religious practices of early
Christ-believers confirm the eschatological and messianic prophet as the primary
model, a “root typology” that is constitutive of further christological development.
VI. Christopraxy and Experience
It is often asserted that early christology is based on experience and response.

This is usually applied to the post-Easter development of Christian faith, in which
resurrection appearances, experiences of the spirit, and communal worship caused
early followers of Jesus to develop an exceptional understanding of his spiritual
authority and lordship, which triggered christological development.90 As already
mentioned, some regard this development as a fairly slow process, requiring a good
part of a century, while others see it as taking place very quickly, within a few months
or years.91
While revelatory as well as devotional or “liturgical” post-Easter experiences
were certainly influential, I am not at all convinced that christological development
89 Tuckett concludes that also in Q discipleship is a matter of realized eschatology rather
than Cynic-like freedom (Q and the History, 390–91).

90 Edvin Larsson, “Jesu uppståndelse och kristologins framväxt,” in Jesustolkningar idag: Tio
teologer om kristologi (Stockholm: Verbum, 1995), 88–118. Cf. the title of Petr Pokorný’s main
chapter “The Decisive Impulse,” in The Genesis of Christology: Foundations for a Theology of the
New Testament (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1987), 63.
91 Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ, 118. Hurtado’s claim for “Christ-devotion” being born more
or less full-grown seems to me exaggerated.
was that rapid.92 I would rather suggest that pre-Easter experiences played a crucial
role for the “root typology” focused on Jesus as an eschatological prophet, which is
constitutive in early belief and practice. We may, of course, speak of pre-Easter
experiences in a strict sense only when we talk about the historical (primary) expe-
riences of Jesus’ immediate followers. But these historical experiences were medi-
ated through the Jesus tradition as narrative (secondary) experiences, whether
orally or as written text, to early Christ-believers. While in no way uninfluenced by
Easter faith, these narrative experiences nevertheless mediate traits of an eschato-
logical prophet, a pre-Easter Jesus—certainly blended, since history is no resur-
rection of the past, but rétrodiction—to post-Easter believers, shaping their beliefs
and practices.
The effect of this process is the christopraxy for which we have found evi-
dence in a number of sources. Such practice is basically imitative, based at first on
historical and very soon on narrative experiences of Jesus’ own attitudes and behav-
ior, repeating, continuing, and applying them in new contexts. A prerequisite for
this is a basic correspondence between the general life experiences of early believ-
ers and their historical or narrative experiences of Jesus as an eschatological
prophet.
Such correspondence existed. Every early Christ-believing community was
rooted in Jewish tradition. A messianic and prophetic typology was part of their
historical, religious, and political framework. Jesus’ prophetic practice related to
known categories. His message of kingdom and restorative actions had precedents.
His table fellowship was controversial but made sense, whether approved of or not.
His servant ethics and preparedness for suffering and martyrdom were part of his-
tory as well as contemporary life. His intimate type of spirituality, manifested in
his mode of prayer, suggesting the nearness of humans to the divine, may have been
exceptional in part, but had precedents in Jewish piety and apparently appealed to
people, giving room for their own experiences of life’s conditions and hopes for the
future.
While these early followers of Jesus definitely had a post-Easter faith, their
social and ethical practice—their christopraxy—was based not primarily on reve-
lations and devotional or “liturgical” experiences, but on narrative experiences
going back to historical experiences of Jesus as an eschatological prophet. This is the
stuff from which their christopraxy was built.
Does this mean that devotional or “liturgical” experiences play no role for
early christopraxy, but only for subsequent doctrinal development? Such a
dichotomy between faith and practice would be highly implausible. We should
rather consider that much of what we would call devotional or “liturgical” expres-
sions are practices inherited from the Jesus tradition. Of the six devotional expres-
sions mentioned by Hurtado as arguments for an exploding high christology,
92 Thomas Kazen, “Response to Larry Hurtado: ‘To Live and Die for Jesus . . . ,’” SEÅ 70
(2005): 333–38.
several represent Jesus’ own practice, which became paradigmatic for his followers.
Like him, they baptized, shared bread, and prayed to God as father.93 The difference
is that prayer, baptism, and table fellowship were now practiced in Jesus’ name.
This experience provided a step on the way to his developed ontological status, but
in themselves, early devotional or “liturgical” practices emanated, just like the social
and ethical practices, from historical and narrative experiences of Jesus as an escha-
tological prophet. Devotional or “liturgical” practices are thus part of early christo-
praxy, too, and the experiences they generate function to confirm the validity of
historical and narrative experiences of Jesus, motivating a continued christopraxy
by his followers.
VII. Conclusions
How did early Christ-believers view Jesus? We have argued for an eschato-
logical and messianic prophet as the most plausible model for the historical figure
of Jesus, grounded in first-century Jewish experience and expectation. It may be
understood as a “root typology,” constitutive of various types of early Christ-belief,
and a model in which most, if not all, other early literary and theological develop-
ments of the picture of Jesus have a foothold.
This is further confirmed by the social and ethical practices—and at least in
part by the “liturgical” practices, too—of various early Christ-believing communi-
ties, as far as we can trace them. Looking for reflections in Paul, Acts, Q, and Mark,
we have found early christopraxy as basically imitative, depending on some degree
of correspondence between believers’ own life experiences and historical experi-
ences of Jesus from Nazareth, mediated by narrative experiences, in oral and writ-
ten forms.
Although devotional or “liturgical” experiences may be crucial for subsequent
christological development, they are not formative for early christopraxy. They
have, however, the function of motivating it by confirming the validity of those his-
torical and narrative experiences that underlie the practice of early believers.
93 The
issue of whether Jesus (following John) baptized is debated; see Kazen, Jesus and
Purity Halakhah, 243–48.

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JBL 127, no.

he Christology of Early Christian Practice

This article suggests that an early view of Jesus as an eschatological prophet

1 To avoid obvious anachronisms in referring to early conceptions of Jesus, I use “prophet

In the shadow of the history-of-religions school, christological developments

STK 81 (2005): 49–66, and further n. 15 below.

This interest in experience is shared by many scholars, such as Edward Schille-

10 Edward Schillebeeckx, Jesus: An Experiment in Christology (London: Collins, 1979), 52–

see esp. 261–65. For a discussion of Philippians 2, see 113–28.

idem, Jesus Remembered.

I. An Eschatological Prophet as Root Model

A number of scholars have chosen an eschatological prophet typology as their

Samaritan leader at Gerizim).19 These figures are primarily prophets of action

by the testimonia of 4Q175.26 Prophetic figures are described as anointed in a num-

portrayal of his prayer practice. Such “divine sonship” is best understood in a

the poor, the marginalized, and the maltreated.36 He is portrayed as a charismatic

and conspicuous in expectations of coming prophetic figures. In Deuteronomy 18 the context is

Jonah (but better, Mark 4:35–41).

ily mean an end-of-the-world perspective. As I have argued elsewhere,43 we need

43 Kazen, “Coming Son of Man.”

World (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2006).

II. Reflections in Paul

Reliable evidence for early community practice among Christ-believers is

51 2 Corinthians 8:9 appeals to Jesus’ poverty as an argument.

III. Reflections in Acts

(ConBNT 38; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 2002), 12–41, 95–98.

the Elijah-Elisha cycle.56 To conclude that communal ownership and “primitive

56 SeeKelly, “Lucan Christology.”

ment of meal distribution to “hellenic” widows (Acts 6:1–6).

constructions of hypothetical communities should be avoided, it is still possible to

implicite,” in Sayings Source, ed. Lindemann, 289–316, here 313.

τῆς τροφῆς αὐτοῦ hardly suits the preceding phrase.

of Early Christianity: Studies on Q (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996), 296–322.

application to the disciples (Q and the History, 276–82).

VI. Christopraxy and Experience

It is often asserted that early christology is based on experience and response.

89 Tuckett concludes that also in Q discipleship is a matter of realized eschatology rather

than Cynic-like freedom (Q and the History, 390–91).

or less full-grown seems to me exaggerated.

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