How Jesus Turned Water to Wine (John 2:6)

How many jars of water were turned into wine at the wedding at Cana? Six

The Gospel of John famously records Jesus’ first miracle as changing water into wine (John 2:1-11). This transformation occurs at a wedding in Cana that predates Jesus’ public ministry (John 2:1-2). Jesus’ mother, Mary, alerts him that the supply of wine is exhausted, an egregious faux pas by the standards of the day (John 2:3-5). The text then interrupts the narrative to direct the reader’s attention to six water pots resting nearby (John 2:6).

Now there were six stone waterpots set there for the Jewish custom of purification, containing twenty or thirty gallons each. (John 2:6 NASB)

Translators describe these containers as “stone water jars” (CEV, ESV, HCSB, NIV, NLT, NRSV), “stone waterpots” (ASV, NASB), “waterpots of stone’ (KJV, NJKV), “stone jars” (RSV) or “stoneware water pots” (MSG).

Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) locates:

The jars stood there: this means either in the dining room itself (Roland Deines [b. 1961] 1993:274) or, perhaps more likely, in a passage near the courtyard where the well would be (Ritva H. Williams [b. 1960] 1997:685-86). (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 96)

This notification marks the preparation of the miracle phase of the story (John 2:6). Marianus Pale Hera (b. 1974) interprets:

The narrator...establishes the setting for Jesus to act. He tells the audience about the presence of six water jars there in the scene (John 2:6). The phrase “for the purification rituals of the Jews” explains why the jars are there (ἐκει). (Hera, Christology and Discipleship in John 17, 65)

Jesus instructs the servants to fill the six receptacles with water and then proceeds to transform their contents into wine (John 2:7-10). The story, unique to John’s gospel, concludes with a notation that this act marks the first of Jesus’ “signs” (John 2:11).

The specifications regarding the water pots stand out as they garner an inordinate amount of press (John 2:6). In fact, the only thing that John describes in detail at the entire wedding is these seemingly innocuous water receptacles. The reader is presented with far more information than would be thought necessary: their number, material, purpose and capacity.

Mark Frost (b. 1950) observes:

The story itself is brief [John 2:1-11]. The author is sparing in detail...except when he describes the water jars [John 2:6]. He focuses our attention on the jars long enough to point out considerable detail. Six–count them–six jars. Made of stone, not clay. The twenty-to-thirty gallon jumbo size. Most significantly, we’re told that they were the kind the Jews used for ceremonial washing. These jars were all about religious activity–exclusively so. Thus, the story implicitly poses the question, “What if someone could transform our religious activity into the exquisite joy of fine wine?” (Dave Fleer [b. 1953] and Dave Bland [b. 1953], “He Always Had Some Mighty Fine Wine”, Preaching John’s Gospel: The World It Imagines, 100)

The water pots pique the reader’s interest. Jo-Ann A. Brant (b. 1956) comments:

John...provides a piece of scenic detail with enough prevision to provoke speculation about intent. There were six stone [or stoneware, hard-baked clay] water jars unattended there in accord with the purification [rites] of the Jews with the capacity to hold up to two or three measure (John 2:6). (Brant, John (Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament), 57)

The tantalizing note has captured the attention of interpreters throughout the centuries (John 2:6). Mark Edwards (b. 1962) canvasses:

Bede [672-735] derives the purification as a Pharisaic rite like the washing of hands at Mark 7:3 (Thomas Aquinas [1225-1274] 1997:83). John Chrysostom [347-407] (Homily 21.2) objects that wine would never have been stored in such a vessel. Isaac of Stella [1100-1169] argues that, as the week contains the seventh day apart from the days of labour, so the six vessels represent the insufficiency of human striving; the two measures stand for the dual sense of Scripture, and the old wine for the wisdom of the Gentiles, which causes them to ‘reel like drunken men’ (1979:88, 85, citing Psalm 106:27). (Edwards, John Through the Centuries, 100)

Some have construed this detail as one of multiple evidences in John’s gospel of an eyewitness account. D. Moody Smith (b. 1931) notes:

The Gospel gives the impression of “things seen” [John 3:32] (details such as six water pots [John 2:6], the whip of cords [John 2:15], Jesus’ fatigue at the well [John 4:6], and others). (Smith, John Among the Gospels, 175)

Thomas R. Schreiner (b. 1954) inventories:

Numerous minor details in the Gospel suggest eyewitness remembrance: the six water pots in Cana (John 2:6), the naming of Philip and Andrew (John 6:7), the barley loaves at the feeding of the five thousand (John 6:9), the detail that the disciples rowed out twenty-five to thirty stadia (John 6:19), the odor that filled the house when Mary anointed Jesus’ body for burial (John 12:3), Peter’s beckoning of the Beloved Disciple (John 13:24), the reaction of the soldiers to Jesus’ arrest (John 18:6), the name of the high priest’s servant (John 18:10), the weight of embalming spices (John 19:39), the knowledge of the disciples’ reactions (John 2:11, 24, 6:15, 61, 13:1), and the catch of 153 fish (John 21:11). These details do not prove that the author was an eyewitness, but they are consistent with such a view. (Schreiner, New Testament Theology: Magnifying God in Christ, 82-83)

This particular brand of specificity is typical of the fourth gospel. Paul N. Anderson (b. 1956) educates:

A[n]...aspect of spatial knowledge in the Fourth Gospel involves the use of measurements and references to particular distances and weights within the narrative. Before the sea crossing, the boat was twenty-five or thirty stadia from the shore (three or four miles; John 6:19); Bethany was fifteen stadia (just under two miles; John 11:18) from Jerusalem; the boat at Jesus’ postresurrection appearance was two hundred pēchōn from shore (a hundred yards; John 21:8); the six water jars held two or three metrētas each (twenty or thirty gallons; John 2:6). Likewise, the weight of the spices to embalm Jesus was one hundred pounds (John 19:39); the cost of the bread would be two hundred denarii (eight months of wages; John 6:7); and the cost of the perfume at the anointing of Jesus would be three hundred denarii (a full year’s wages; John 12:5). (Anderson, The Riddles of the Fourth Gospel: An Introduction to John, 204)

The jars’ presence is in conjunction with “the Jewish custom of purification” (John 2:6 NASB). Jo-Ann A. Brant (b. 1956) acknowledges:

Why jars for purification are present is not clear [John 2:6]. They may have been used for cleansing of utensils in preparation for the wedding or filling basins for hand washing, in which case the number and size of the empty jars could be an index to the number of guests. John’s underscoring that these are according to Jewish practice may point to conformity to Judean practice in the Galilee and may signify a response to Southern polemic. Judeans thought that Galileans did not keep their high standards of purity. (Brant, John (Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament), 57)

Leon Morris (1914-2006) conjectures:

The half dozen represented a good store of water for carrying out the kind of purification of which we read in Mark 7:1-4. Before the meal servants would have poured water over the hands of every guest. If there was a large number of guests a good deal of water would have been needed. John does not elaborate, but says enough for his Greek readers to understand why so much was provided. (Morris, The Gospel According to John (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 160)

D.A. Carson (b. 1946) connects:

In the context of a wedding feast, perhaps the ritual washing of certain utensils and guests’ hands is especially in view (cf. Mark 7:3-4; for the regulations on washing cf. Hermann Leberecht Strack [1848-1922] and Paul Billerbeck [1853-1932] 1.695-705), but if so John sees this as representative of the broader question of the place of all ceremonial washings (cf. John 3:25). Their purpose provides a clue to one of the meanings of the story: the water represents the old order of Jewish law and custom, which Jesus was to replace with something better (cf. John 1:16). (Carson, The Gospel According to John (Pillar New Testament Commentary, 173)

The jars are comprised of stone (Greek líthinos, John 2:6). This stone composition, as opposed to earthenware, directly relates to the purpose of purification (John 2:6).

Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) informs:

The jars were made of stone...because stone was not itself considered to contract uncleanness (Ronny Reich [b. 1947] 1995; cf. Roland Deines [b. 1961] 1993:29-34; John Christopher Thomas 1991b:162-65). (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 96)

Bruce J. Malina (b. 1933) and Richard L. Rohrbaugh (b. 1936) explain:

Stone water jars were preferable for holding water for purification since clay pots had to be destroyed if they were contaminated by contact with the carcass of an unclean animal (Leviticus 11:33). (Malina and Rohrbaugh, Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John, 69)

Gerard Sloyan (b. 1919) surmises:

Stone jars (John 2:6) would have required less purification than jars of baked clay. Their non-porosity made a great difference to the laws of purity. (Sloyan, John (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching), 35)

Leon Morris (1914-2006) contrasts:

Clay pots could become unclean, and if this happened they must be destroyed (Leviticus 11:33). But some vessels did not become unclean (Mishnah Kelim 10:1; Mishnah Parah 3:2). (Morris, The Gospel According to John (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 160)

The caveat regarding the use of stone jars during purification stems from tradition and is not explicitly stated in the Old Testament. Jey J. Kanagaraj (b. 1948) clarifies:

The use of “stone jars” for purification is mentioned not in Leviticus 11:32-38, but in the Mishnah, a Rabbinic text of the second century that reflects the life situation of the late first century (Mishnah Kelim 5:11; Mishnah Besah 2:3). (Kanagaraj, John (New Covenant Commentary Series), 22)

C.K. Barrett (1917-2011) traces:

Stone, unlike earthenware, did not itself contract uncleanness. This is explicitly stated by Maimonides [1135-1204], and seems to be borne out of earlier evidence (see Hermann Leberecht Strack [1848-1922] and Paul Billerbeck [1853-1932] II, 406). Stone vessels are accordingly especially suitable for water used for purification purposes. (Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 191)

Insight into these receptacles has deepened in recent times. James H. Charlesworth (b. 1940) studies:

Most commentators, intent on understanding the meaning of the pericope in which Jesus turned water into wine (John 2:1-11), have missed the importance of an oblique aside made by the evangelist: “Six stone jars were standing there, for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons” (John 2:6). Now, with the Temple Scroll, the longest of all the Dead Sea Scrolls, we possess a pre-70 C.E., firsthand insight into the regulations and specifications for purification. A house and everything within it, especially valuable commodities stored in pottery vessels, become impure when one who is ritually unclean enters...11QTemple 50:10-19...Excavations in the upper city of Jerusalem have unearthed large stone vessels, like the ones the evangelist notes in passing; all of them antedate the destruction of 70 and caused the excavator Nahman Avigad [1907-1992] to report, “we were astonished by the rich and attractive variety of the stone vessels.” Hence, the evangelist, who was most likely a Jew, and probably his fellow Jews–not only his sources–possessed considerable knowledge about Jewish purification rights. We now know from other areas of research that the stipulations for purification developed considerably from the time of Herod the Great [73-4 BCE] in 37 B.C.E. until the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. (R. Alan Culpepper [b. 1946] and C. Clifton Black [b. 1955], “The Dead Sea Scrolls and the Gospel according to John”, Exploring the Gospel of John: in honor of D. Moody Smith [b. 1931], 67-69)

The archaeological record is replete with specimens which corroborate John’s account (John 2:6). Carsten Claussen (b. 1966) apprises:

Archaeologists have found such jars at many Jewish sites in Palestine, Judea, Galilee, and the Golan. They appear during the reign of Herod the Great [73-4 BCE] and quickly disappear after 70 CE. While they are widespread in Palestine, they are almost absent in the Diaspora. Recently, a few small vessels have also been found at Khirbet Cana. The jars mentioned in John 2:6-7 can be identified with large vessels, which were turned on a lathe. They could contain about 100 liters each. The Mishnah calls them kallal. Jonathan L. Reed [b. 1963] rightly stresses that, due to their sophisticated production technique, they were “luxury items.” Such luxurious jars are virtually absent in peasant villages like Capernaum, but rather frequent in rich urban sites like Sepphoris. The reader is again impressed by this rather luxurious wedding feast, crowned by an incredible 600 liters of wine, of excellent quality, in rather expensive stone vessels. (James H. Charlesworth [b. 1940] and Petr Pokorný [b. 1933], “Turning Water to Wine: Re-reading the Miracle at the Wedding in Cana”, Jesus Research: An International Perspective (Princeton-Prague Symposia Series on the Historical Jesus), 95)

Archaeologist Nahman Avigad (1907-1992) recounts:

The discovery of stone vessels became a routine matter in our work, for whenever we approached a stratum of the Second Temple period, and a building which was burnt during the destruction of the city in AD 70 began revealing itself, they invariably made an appearance as well. Thus, even in the absence of other specific chronological cues, we were often able to date a structure as Herodian solely on the basis of the presence of even a single stone vessel—or even mere fragments. (Avigad, “A Depository of Inscribed Ossuaries in the Kidron Valley”, Israel Exploration Journal 12 (1962), 174)

The reason stone vessels can be used in the dating of artifacts is because they represent a very specific period in the evolution of liquid storage.

Hydrologist Francis H. Chapelle (b. 1951) chronicles:

There is no lack of archaeological evidence for the use of stoneware urns as water-storage devices in the ancient world. But there is documentary evidence as well, sometimes coming from unexpected sources. In the Gospel of John, for example, the first miracle that Jesus performs is turning water into wine at the wedding of Cana [John 2:1-11]...This passage gives just the briefest hint of the role that water-storing urns played in Jewish households, and it simply confirms what archaeologists find when they excavate sites in the Middle East...The urns of Cana are an example of one of the most important water-storing technologies in human history...The introduction of glassy glazes essentially perfected the oil-, wine-, and water-storing capabilities of stoneware. It was not long before the use of these glazes, however, led to the development of a brand-new material for storing liquids. The new material was glass. (Chapelle, Wellsprings: A Natural History of Bottled Spring Waters, 69)

In referencing the purification ritual, the Jews reenter the gospel’s focus (John 2:6). Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) notifies:

For readers unfamiliar with Palestinian Jewish custom, the narrator...adds the explanatory aside that the these jars were there “in keeping with the cleansing ritual of the Jews [John 2:6].” (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 96)

Raymond F. Collins (b. 1935) understands:

Keeping “the Jews” in his narrative space and time as he does, the Evangelist allows the reader to understand that the story about Jesus, with its denouement, takes place in “Jewish” space and time. His story is to be a Jewish story. The use of the phrase “of the Jews” in John 2:6 and John 2:13 does more, however, than simply identify Jesus’ story as a Jewish story. The usage allows the reader to gain a glimpse of the relationship between Jesus and Jewish space and time. The jugs that were available for the Jewish rites of purification are employed by Jesus as vessels in which Jesus makes available the abundance of first-quality wine that symbolizes the surfeit of gifts given at the (messianic) nuptials. (Reimund Bieringer [b. 1957], Didier Pollefeyt [b. 1965] and Frederique Vandecasteele-Vanneuville [b. 1972], “Speaking of the Jews: ‘Jews’ in the Discourse Material of the Fourth Gospel”. Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel, 159-160)

Many scholars have connected the water jars with Judaism as a whole. Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) introduces:

The mention of Jewish purification (required by law) may subtly reinforce the contrast drawn by the evangelist between the law given through Moses (John 1:17) and the new messianic provision by Jesus (Adolf Schlatter [1852-1938] [1948:69] cites John 13:10). (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 97)

Frederick Dale Bruner (b. 1932) expounds:

The water jars themselves may have been mentioned for symbolic reasons. C.H. Dodd [1884-1973], The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel, 299, believes that they “stand for the entire system of Jewish ceremonial observance — and by implication for religion upon that level, wherever it is found, as distinguished from religion upon the level of alētheia [“truth”]...Thus the first of [Jesus’] signs already symbolizes the doctrine [“the law was given through Moses; (deep) Grace and (deep) Truth came through Jesus Christ],” John 1:17. On the same page (note 2), Dodd cites Origen [184-253]’s Commentary on John, 13:62, 277-78: “And truly before Jesus the Scripture was water, but from the time of Jesus it has become wine to us.” C.K. Barrett [1917-2011], The Gospel according to St. John, 192, believes John intends symbolism in the jars: “This incident illustrates at once the poverty of the old dispensation with its merely ceremonial cleansing and the richness of the new, in which the blood of Christ is available both for cleansing (John 1:29) and for drink (John 6:53). If the initial reference to the water jars is to the supercession of Judaism, Rudolf Bultmann [1884-1976] [120] is right [Barrett concludes] to generalize: the water ‘stands for everything that is a substitute for the revelation, everything by which man thinks he can live and which yet fails him when put to the test.’” Comparably, Raymond E. Brown [1928-1998], The Gospel according to John 1:105. Ernst Haenchen [1894-1975], John 1:179, gives a helpful summary: “In the older rites of purification man attempted to make himself clean before God. But now, in the ‘hour,’ comes the new, the new hour of God: man does not take his own impurity away; ‘the Lamb of God’ does [that] (John 1:29, 36).” (Bruner, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 139)

This reading is far from unanimous. John A. Dennis (b. 1962) objects:

I take issue with Frédéric Manns [b. 1942]’s interpretation of the Cana symbolism: “Jean a l’intention de montrer l’imperfection de la loi juive” (L’Evangile à lumière du Judaïsme [Studium Biblicum Franciscanum Analecta 33; Jerusalem: Franciscan Press, 1991], 103). This assessment is followed by Mary L. Coloe [b. 1949] , God Dwells with Us, 69: “At the wedding of Cana, the six jars of water point to the inadequacy of Israel’s religious institutions, an inadequacy now brought to perfection by the coming of the true bridegroom.” There is nothing in the text that would support this kind of over-expectation. The text, with its symbolism, simply argues that Jesus is bringing the expectations of the messianic age to their intended climax. There is a sense in which these Jewish expectations do not reach their intended fulfillment until the messianic age, which for John is the advent of Jesus, but this idea is not substantially different from other Jewish messianic expectations, namely, that only in the messianic era will the expectations reach their climax. The difference between John’s view and other Jewish views is clear: in Jesus the Messiah the hopes and promises engendered by the Prophets are being fulfilled. The language of “inadequacy” is misleading therefore. (Dennis, Jesus’ Death and the Gathering of True Israel: The Johannine Appropriation of Restoration Theology in the Light of John 11:47-52, 166)

Peter-Ben Smit (b. 1979) advises:

It seems...preferable not to read too much into the apparent emphasis on the Jewish character of the six stone vessels in John 2:6, as it is part of John’s style to refer to anything Jewish as explicitly Jewish without necessarily characterizing it negatively. As neither “Jewishness” nor purification are of central importance in John 2:1-11, the note that these large stone vessels belong to Jewish rites, should be taken as explanatory. The same might be true of the note as a whole: its function is simply to explain why the vessels are there. (Jan Krans, Bert Jan Lietaert Peerbolte [b. 1963], Smit and Arie Zwiep [b. 1964], “Alternative Patronage in John 2:1-11?”, Paul, John, and Apocalyptic Eschatology: Studies in Honour of Martinus C. de Boer [b. 1947], 154)

Reading the ceremonial jars as representative of Judaism can even be dangerous. Lamar Williamson, Jr. (b. 1926) cautions:

Some interpreters, focusing on the six stone jars for the Jewish rites of purification (John 2:6) have seen here a story about the changing of the water of Jewish ritual into the wine of the gospel. The theme of the rejection of Judaism and its replacement by Christianity (supersessionism), so common to much patristic biblical interpretation, has led to unspeakable atrocities against the Jewish people through the centuries. In the text, “the miracle is...neither a rejection nor a replacement of the old, but the creation of something new in the midst of Judaism.” In today’s world, a supersessionist interpretation of the text is inappropriate, even inexcusable. (Williamson, Preaching the Gospel of John: Proclaiming the Living Word, 27-28)

If one chooses to connect the water pots with the religion they serve, it is worth remembering that Jesus does not destroy the jars but rather recommissions them (John 2:6-10).

Ian D. Mackay (b. 1936) characterizes:

John’s changing of water to wine reflects his more positive, fulfillment approach to the Jewish religion - the six purification water parts are not destroyed but filled with something ‘absolutely’ superior [John 2:6-10]. (Mackay, John’s Relationship with Mark: An Analysis of John 6 in the Light of Mark 6-8, 97)

The text also notes the quantity of the water pots: There are a half dozen of these vessels present at the wedding (John 2:6). This number represents an abundance.

Bruce J. Malina (b. 1933) and Richard L. Rohrbaugh (b. 1936) brief:

Most village families would have had no more than one such jar (which held about twenty gallons), hence the presence of six stone jars may indicate that others have been borrowed from neighbors for the occasion. (Malina and Rohrbaugh, Social Science Commentary on the Gospel of John, 69)

Kenneth E. Bailey (b. 1930) concurs:

If we reject allegory and assume an authentic detail in John 2:6, we would have there an illustration of jars gathered from the neighbors for the large gathering. The average family would have only one. (Bailey, Poet & Peasant and Through Peasant Eyes: A Literary-Cultural Approach to the Parables in Luke, 123)

C.H. Dodd (1884-1973) footnotes:

In early Christian art the six waterpots regularly balance the five, or seven, loaves in symbolic allusions to the Eucharist. (Dodd, Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel, 224)

Some have read the number six allegorically. Jo-Ann A. Brant (b. 1956) mentions:

The number six may signify incompletion or labor. Six is the number of days God works before resting on the Sabbath [Genesis 1:1-31]. (Brant, John (Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament), 57)

When the numeral is associated with incompleteness it is also connected with Judaism. Leon Morris (1914-2006) discusses:

Some commentators find symbolism in the number six [John 2:6]. The Jews saw seven as the perfect number, and six accordingly was short of perfection and thus lacking, incomplete. The six pots are then held to symbolize Judaism as imperfect. There may be something in this, but a strong objection is that the narrative contains nothing that would symbolize completeness, which would surely be required to correspond to the incomplete. Jesus does not create or produce a seventh pot. (Morris, The Gospel According to John (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 160-61)

Francis J. Moloney (b. 1940) deliberates:

Along with many others, C.K. Barrett [1917-2011] rejects this suggestion, as he claims Jesus does not create a seventh jar to bring the number to perfection (The Gospel according to St. John, 191). This misses the point. The narrator merely wishes to indicate that Judaism, along with its rituals, falls short of fullness. On this, see Marie-Émile Boismard [1916-2004], Moïse ou Jésus; Essai de Christologie Johannique (Bibliotheca Ephemeridum Theologicarum Lovaniensium, 84; Leuven: University Press, 1988) 56. The good wine (John 2:10) created by openness (John 2:5: the mother) and obedience to the word of Jesus (John 2:7-8: the attendants) provides that fullness. (Moloney, Belief in the Word: Reading John 1-4, 85)

Some have seen the entire story as pertaining to incompleteness (John 2:1-10). Joseph A. Grassi (1922-2010) connects:

These two verses [John 2:6-7] have a strong emphasis on filling or completion. The number six...is a familiar symbol of incompletion in the bible [John 2:6]. The jars themselves hold an enormous quantity of water, but they are still far short of their capacity. At Jesus’ order they are filled [John 2:7]. The execution of the command is carefully noted: “they filled them to the brim [John 2:7]”. Jesus brings them to overflowing capacity. The Greek of John 2:6 literally reads that the jars held from two to three measures [John 2:6]. The work of Jesus is to fulfill the Father’s design to give the Spirit without any measure: “It is not by measure that he gives the Spirit” (John 3:34). The Pentecostal account in Acts also emphasizes this filling by the Spirit: “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit” (Acts 2:4); they were filled or drunk with new wine (Acts 2:13); it is the outpouring of the Spirit on all flesh (Acts 2:17); it is an overflowing gift that goes out from the disciples to believers in the crowd; Peter tells them that if they repent and believe, they will receive the gift of the Spirit (Acts 2:38). (David E. Orton, “The Wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11): A Pentecostal Meditation?”, The Composition of John’s Gospel: Selected Studies from Novum Testamentum, 127)

Throughout the centuries, expositors have made use of the number six (John 2:6). Ray E. Atwood (b. 1966) documents:

An interesting interpretation that Bernard [of Clairvaux, 1090-1153] uses, typical of medieval preachers, is the symbolic meaning of the six stone water jars at the Wedding Feast of Cana (John 2:6). Bernard explains them in terms of six steps of repentance (since they were used for purification): (1) sorrow for sin; (2) confession of sin; (3) the generous giving of alms; (4) forgiving those who sin against us; (5) the mortification of our flesh; and (6) new obedience (Bernard, In Epiphania, Sermo V, 4)...In another sermon, this one for monks, Bernard interprets the water jars as symbolizing: (1) chastity, (2) fasting, (3) manual labor, (4) keeping of vigils, (5) silence, and (6) obedience (Bernard, In Epiphania Sermo VI, 7). (Atwood, Masters of Preaching: The Most Poignant and Powerful Homilists in Church History, 170)

The six stone water pots each have a capacity of two to three measures (John 2:6). This has been rendered “two or three firskins” (ASV, KJV) which most contemporary translations convert to “twenty or thirty gallons (CEV, ESV, HCSB, MSG, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV, RSV). Though the six vessels may not have been uniform, each represents a warehouse club size, larger than most modern kegs. This abundance might be characterized by the Coneheads as “mass quantities”.

Jo-Ann A. Brant (b. 1956) considers:

It is not clear if the total volume is two to three measures or if each jar holds that amount, making the total twelve to eighteen measures [John 2:6]. A measure is about nine English gallons, so whatever the volume it is copious. (Brant, John (Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament), 57)

Gerald L. Borchert (b. 1932) calculates:

This segment of the story begins with a notation that there were present six large stone jars used in Jewish water purification rites, each capable of containing between two and three measures (John 2:6), each measure by calculation being roughly between eight and nine gallons. Each jar therefore contained somewhere between sixteen and twenty-seven gallons (the NIV “twenty to thirty gallons” in very close). Obviously these six jars could contain an immense amount of water (Borchert, John 1-11 (New American Commentary), 156)

The Greek term for measures is metrētēs (John 2:6). C.K. Barrett (1917-2011) develops:

In classical usage the μετρητής was a measure equivalent to the ἀμφορεύς, a liquid measure of ‘1½ Roman amphorae or nearly nine gallons’ (Henry G. Liddell [1811-1898] and Robert Scott [1811-1887] s.v. ἀμφορεύς). In the Septuagint μετρητής renders the Hebrew בת (bath) an almost identical measure. Each waterpot therefore contained 18-24 gallons; say 120 gallons in all. (Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 192)

Merrill C. Tenney (1904-1985) updates:

The combined capacity of the waterpots was about 150 gallons. Reckoning a half pint to a glass, these vessels would contain about 2400 servings of wine—certainly enough to supply a large number of people for several days. In quality and quantity the new-made wine more than satisfied the needs and taste of those who attended the feast. (Tenney, John: The Gospel of Belief, 83)

These pots would be heavy when filled. A gallon of water weighs 8.34 pounds meaning that the jar’s contents alone measure between 166.8-250.2 pounds.

Robert L. Deffinbaugh (b. 1943) imagines:

We would have to agree that these stone waterpots would be heavy when empty, and even heavier yet when full (the weight of the water alone in a full pot would be about 200 pounds). It does not appear Jesus intended for the servants to carry these pots away, dump them, refill them, and then carry them back. They are far too heavy for this, especially when filled with water. (Deffinbaugh, That You Might Believe: Study on the Gospel of John, 66)

Given the brimming state of these water pots, the amount of wine produced is excessive (John 2:7). Gail R. O’Day (b. 1954) and Susan E. Hylen (b. 1968) reveal:

The quantity and capacity of the stone jars...is unusual, even for a large wedding, and their description enhances the extravagance of the miracle (John 2:6). Jesus turns an abundance of water into wine. (O’Day and Hylen, John (Westminster Bible Companion), 36)

The sheer volume could also serve to validate the miracle. Beauford H. Bryant (1923-1997) and Mark S. Krause (b. 1955) discern:

Their total content was...from 120 to 180 gallons [John 2:6]. Jesus had the servants of the feast fill them completely with water [John 2:7]. No one could therefore say that Jesus’ power was limited so that he could perform on only one or two of the jars. Likewise, he had each jar filled to its brim, so no one could assert that some magic potion was added by him to the water. When God performs a special work he does an adequate job of it! (Bryant and Krause, John (College Press NIV Commentary), 73)

Some have seen the vessels’ immense capacity as suggestive of the wealth of the wedding party. Andreas J. Köstenberger (b. 1957) suspects:

A large number of wedding guests must be accommodated for the course of an entire week of festivities. “The fact that there were servants, and more than one, indicates that the family was in at least comfortable if not opulent circumstances” (Lyman Abbott [1835-1922] 1879:30; cf. Roland Deines [b. 1961] 1993:25 n.39). (Köstenberger, John (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 96-97)

Such excess is typical of John’s gospel which in modern parlance depicts Jesus exercising a “go big or go home” mentality. Robert Kysar (1934-2013) reads:

Their capacity suggests the enormity of the wonder about to be performed [John 2:6]. While John narrates fewer wonder stories than his canonical colleagues, each of his is remarkable by virtue of the extent of the wonder (e.g., the blind man of chapter 9 has been blind from birth [John 9:1, 2, 3]; in chapter 11 Lazarus has been dead for three days [John 11:17, 39]). (Kysar, John (Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament), 46)

Graham H. Twelftree (b. 1950) agrees:

The most obvious feature of the miracle stories in the Fourth Gospel is that they are few and take up little space. Yet they dominate the Fourth Gospel because they are spectacular and relatively uncommon. The Cana story of water into wine is a miracle of immense proportions: six jars of twenty or thirty gallons of water each are turned into wine (John 2:6). The paralytic at Bethesda had been paralyzed for thirty-eight years but was immediately made well merely by Jesus’ word (John 5:5, 9). The story of Lazarus is self-evidently stupendous, not least because he had been in the tomb four days (John 11:39). (Robert T. Fortna [b. 1930] and Tom Thatcher [b. 1967], “Exorcisms in the Fourth Gospel and Synoptics”, Jesus in Johannine Tradition, 137-38)

Carsten Claussen (b. 1966) supports:

Six stone water jars full of the best wine are certainly more than one may deem necessary [John 2:6], and the fact that the disciples collected twelve baskets of leftover pieces from the five barley loaves suggests that this multiplication surely went over the top as well [John 6:13]. Similarly, the 153 large fish of John 21:11 was certainly more than the seven disciples and Jesus needed as their “daily bread”. Clearly, in the fourth gospel there is not only one “miracle in the service of luxury”—as David Friedrich Strauss [1808-1874] once commented on the wine miracle at Cana (1860, 2:585)—but at least three of them. (Francisco Lozada, Jr. [b. 1965] and Tom Thatcher [b. 1967], “The Role of John 21: Discipleship in Retrospect and Redefinition”, New Currents Through John: A Global Perspective, 63)

As is often Jesus’ habit, scarcity is answered with abundance.

The excess of wine has often been seen as an early indicator of Messianic fulfillment. Raymond E. Brown (1928-1998) reminds:

The prophets had foretold of an abundance of wine in messianic days; and the abundance of wine at Cana [John 2:6-7]...would bring these prophecies to mind and point to the messianic nature of Jesus’ mission. In this messianic framework the wine represents his wisdom and teaching. (Brown, The Gospel and Epistles of John: A Concise Commentary, 29)

Richard A. Burridge (b. 1955) annotates:

The prodigious amount has invited comparisons between Jesus and the Greek god of wine, Dionysus. Various stories are told of bowls being miraculously filled with wine in his temple at Elis, or of a fountain flowing with wine in his temple at Andros. In fact, we do not need to go so far afield for inspiration. The prophet Amos uses the images of ‘the mountains dripping with sweet wine and the hills flowing with it’ for the great Day of the Lord to come, and similar examples of wine as a sign of so-called ‘messianic abundance’ can be found in other Hebrew prophets (Amos 9:13; Hosea 14:7; Jeremiah 31:12). Isaiah looks forward to the Lord giving a huge party, ‘a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines’(Isaiah 25:6) and likens God’s rejoicing over his people to a wedding (Isaiah 62:4-5). Jesus uses this image of a wedding banquet for the kingdom of heaven in his parable of a marriage feast and those who refused the invitation (Matthew 22:1-10; Luke 14:15-24), and he likens himself to the bridegroom in Mark 2:19. All of this, says the fourth evangelist, is being inaugurated in the here and now as Jesus begins his ministry at this wedding feast in Cana [John 2:1-11]. (Burridge, John (Daily Bible Commentary: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer), 48)

Mavis M. Leung (b. 1970) reinforces:

The act of Jesus miraculously converting six jars of water into choice wine (John 2:1-10), within a festive ambiance, evokes the Jewish hopes for a messianic era. In both biblical and extra-biblical Jewish traditions, profuse wine is a motif associated with eschatological bliss (e.g., Isaiah 25:6; Jeremiah 31:12; Joel 3:18; Amos 9:13-14; Hosea 14:7; Sibylline Oracles 3:620-23, 744-49). The image of copious wine appears in Jacob’s blessing to Judah in Genesis 49:8-12, a text that is read messianically in Second Temple Judaism (cf. 4Q252 V, 1-7; 1QSb V, 29; Targum Onqelos Genesis). In II Baruch 29:5-7, the messianic age is characterized by the delightful boon of abundant wine (cf. I Enoch 10:9). During the first and second Jewish revolts (66-70 CE, 132-135 CE), which were to some extent incited by royal-messianic ambitions, various symbols pertinent to wine (e.g., vine, grape, and wine cup/pitcher) were minted on Jewish coins. In view of the “wine” symbol’s messianic associations and John’s stated intent (John 20:30-31), the Cana “sign most probably has the function of authenticating Jesus’ messiahship. (Leung, The Kingship-Cross Interplay in the Gospel of John: Jesus Death as Corroboration of His Royal Messiahship, 82-83)

Jesus’ converting water into wine provides an early glimpse into his power (John 2:1-11). John characterizes it as a “sign” (John 2:11) and this marker points to Jesus’ true identity: the Messiah, the long awaited Christ.

If the wedding party is wealthy, what does this say of Jesus’ family’s social circle? In filling religious implements with wine is Jesus mixing the sacred and the profane? In doing so does he defile religious vessels? Why does Jesus produce so much wine? Did the wedding guests actually consume all of it? What is the greatest quantity of beverages you have seen at a celebration? What does transforming water into wine indicate about Jesus? As this miracle is borne out of circumstance, does Jesus intend symbolic meaning in its implementation?

In utilizing the stone jars, Jesus uses a “weapon of opportunity” (John 2:6). He does not simply produce wine out of thin air, an ex nihilo creation as in the creation of the world (Genesis 1:1-31). Instead, he takes what is there and works with it.

In doing this, Jesus transforms not only the contents of the water pots but also the purpose of the receptacles themselves. Thomas L. Brodie (b. 1940) contemplates:

The six stone jars which he uses had once been used for another form of re-freshment—Jewish purification [John 2:6]. In other words, for the cleansing of faults and impurities (John 2:6). Cleansing is no mean achievement, but it tends to focus on the negative. Jesus, is offering something that is overwhelmingly positive. (Brodie, The Gospel According to John: A Literary and Theological Commentary, 172)

Lesslie Newbigin (1909-1998) applauds:

We are in the midst of an event which is under the law. Six great stone jars holding twenty to thirty gallons of water each stand there as a reminder of this fact [John 2:6]. The water is for the rites of purification required by the law—part of the whole ritual apparatus which is provided to keep Israel as a nation consecrated for the Lord in the midst of a world which is defiled by sin. Purification is a negative action. The water removes uncleanness but does not give the fulness of joy. What the law cannot supply Jesus will give—in superabundance. The action of Jesus is free, sovereign, and surpassing any mere rectification of a defect. It is the coming into experience of that which is really new—the “new wine” of the kingdom of God (Mark 2:22). It is an act of the overflowing majesty of the Creator. (Newbigin, The Light Has Come: An Exposition of the Fourth Gospel, 27-28)

This act has an effect on the way religion will be experienced. Michael A. Daise (b. 1956) analyzes:

During the wedding at Cana, the empty stone jars at John 2:6-7 show ritual purity at that juncture to be the result of a physical rite effected by water. But, by Jesus’ vine and branches metaphor in the Farewell Discourse, “cleanness” has become the result of a verbal act effected by Jesus’ speech – “You are already clean, because of the word which I have spoken to you” (John 15:3)...The dynamic in question may be what Catherine Bell [1953-2008] labels “ritual transformation”: not the creation of new rites ex nihilo (which Bell dubs “ritual invention” ), but the modification of traditional rites into new forms and aims. Applied to the Fourth Gospel, it seems that, in the liminal period that occurs between the first Passover, when the Jesus’ ‘hour’ is introduced [John 2:4, 4:21, 23, 5:25, 28, 7:30, 8:20], and the last Passover, when it arrives, Jewish rituals are being gradually transformed into metaphorized counterparts; and these, in turn, form the framework for a new, distinctly Johannine (ritual) system. (Daise, Feasts in John: Jewish Festivals and Jesus’ “Hour” in the Fourth Gospel, 174)

Jesus is a game changer on many fronts. In this instance, he begins to shift the way that religion is performed. In this regard, the method Jesus uses to change water into wine not only indicates who he is but what he has come to do. It is a fitting first sign (John 2:11).

Why does Jesus use this particular methodology when changing water into wine (John 2:6-10)? Why did Jesus not simply make the wine materialize or reuse the receptacles from the first batch of wine? What does it say of Jesus that he uses what is there as opposed to discarding it and creating something new? Would you rather fix something broken or simply replace it? When has an action epitomized the values of its actor?

“In the Talmud, it is specified how much water is needed for the rites of purification. Only about a cup of water was necessary to purify a hundred men. But here, in this story, there is well over a hundred gallons of water! That is enough water to purify the entire world!...Get it? Jesus is that purifying water which is available in enough quantity for the whole world.” - William H. Willimon (b. 1946), “Some Saw Glory”, unpublished sermon preached January 18, 1998, at the Duke University Chapel

A Prophetic Ride (Zechariah 9:9)

Which prophet predicted that the Messiah would ride into Jerusalem on a donkey? Zechariah (Zechariah 9:9)

The Book of Zechariah is one of twelve Minor Prophets canonized in the Bible and is positioned as the penultimate book in the Christian Old Testament. The book is commonly divided into two units, often referred to as First Zechariah (Zechariah 1:1-8:23) and Second Zechariah (Zechariah 9:1-14:21). Second Zechariah is comprised of two poetic oracles (Zechariah 9:1-11:17, 12:1-14:21).

Second Zechariah begins by predicting doom for Israel’s enemies (Zechariah 9:1-8). The prophecy then transitions to describing the coming of a triumphant king who ushers in the dawning of a new age (Zechariah 9:9-17).

Marvin A. Sweeney (b. 1953) discusses:

Although the material in Zechariah 9-14 is generally considered to be much later additions to Zechariah 1-8...they appear to outline the fulfillment of the promises articulated in the present oracles concerning Zerubbabel. Throughout Zechariah 9-14, reference is made to the future Davidic monarchy. Zechariah 9:9-10 calls for the people to rejoice because the king will come to them riding upon a donkey and establishing his dominion from sea to sea. (Sweeney, The Twelve Prophets, Volume 2 (Berit Olam: Studies in Hebrew Narrative & Poetry), 611)

The Messianic king arrives riding a donkey amid a liturgical procession (Zechariah 9:9).

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout in triumph, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your king is coming to you;
He is just and endowed with salvation,
Humble, and mounted on a donkey,
Even on a colt, the foal of a donkey. (Zechariah 9:9 NASB)

Walter C. Kaiser, Jr. (b. 1933) situates:

At the heart of Zechariah 9 stands one of the most famous predictions about the coming messianic king. Whether it should be treated separately...or linked with Zechariah 9:1-8 or with Zechariah 9:11-17...is a difficult question. On the one hand, it does continue in the poetic form of Zechariah 9:1-8, and it does describe both the Messiah and the way He will govern the kingdom of God announced in both Zechariah 9:1-8 and Zechariah 9:11-17. On the other hand, it is distinctive in nature and functions as a pivotal point for both Zechariah 9:1-8 and Zechariah 9:11-17, and these factors persuade us that it is best to treat Zechariah 9:9-10 as a distinctive oracle that enlarges on the messianic teaching of Zechariah 3:8 and Zechariah 6:9-15. (Kaiser, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah, Malachi (Mastering the Old Testament), 370)

The figure mounted on the donkey is the Messiah. Barry G. Webb (b. 1945) identifies:

Zechariah 9:9 is undoubtedly the best-known verse in Zechariah, and one of the better-known verses in the entire Old Testament. The key issue for the interpretation of the passage is the identity of the king who is seen here riding into Jerusalem on a donkey amid shouts of rejoicing...It is God who has been on the move in Zechariah 9:1-8, and his progress has been towards Jerusalem. So it is God himself whom we are expecting to arrive there at this point. But the picture of God himself riding on a donkey is incongruous, to say the least. Furthermore, God is clearly distinguished from the king. God is the speaker (the ‘I’ of Zechariah 9:10) who announces the arrival of the king and speaks of him in the third person...So the king is a man, a human being–but a man who is closely associated with God...The book of Zechariah has already given us the key to the identity of this king. In its context in Zechariah, this king can be none other than the one whose coming was promised in chapter 3 [Zechariah 3:1-10], and symbolized in the crowing of Joshua the high priest in chapter 6 [Zechariah 6:1-15]...The king is God’s Messiah. (Webb, The Message of Zechariah: Your Kingdom Come (Bible Speaks Today), 131)

The picture Zechariah paints is a unique and consequently redefines the notion of king. David L. Petersen (b. 1943) deliberates:

The author of Zechariah 9:9 is presenting a highly nuanced form of political expectation. This is no standard royal or messianic expectation, namely, the return of a real or ideal Davidide. This expectation has little in common with the hope for a prince (Ezekiel 40:1-48:35), a crowned Zerubbabel (Haggai 2:23); a Davidide à la the oracles of Zechariah (Zechariah 4:6-10). Instead, the poet focuses on collectivities, addressed through the technique of personification. (Petersen, Zechariah 9-14 and Malachi: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 59)

George L. Klein (b. 1955) concurs:

In Zechariah 9...the royal role of the Messiah appears in unique form. In Zechariah 9:9 the Messiah enters the scene riding a beast of burden, not a steed associated with military might. Riding on a lowly donkey, the Messiah will reign over a kingdom that he will administer peacefully through the strength of compelling righteousness, not brute force as other kings must exert. In addition to the peaceful connotation of the beast on which the coming King will ride, this Monarch will arrive “righteous and having salvation, gentle” (Zechariah 9:9). (Klein, Zechariah (New American Commentary), 71)

The king that the prophet presents is an idealized version. David L. Petersen (b. 1943) characterizes:

Zechariah 9:9 depict[s], in surprising order, the manner in which the king will arrive, as well as his attributes. We might expect the poet to write “Humble, riding upon a donkey” immediately after the report that the king is coming. Instead, the poet offers two adjectives to define the salient features of the king. He, like other idealized earthly kings, will be righteous (so II Samuel 23:3) and victorious. The king shares these attributes with the deity. The imagery of just ruler and military savior are pivotal to the author’s understanding of the king. (Petersen, Zechariah 9-14 and Malachi: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 58)

One of the striking features of the king is that he enters upon a “donkey” (CEV, ESV, HCSB, MSG, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NLT, NRSV) or “ass” (ASV, KJV, RSV) (Zechariah 9:9).

Carol L. Meyers (b. 1942) and Eric M. Meyers (b. 1940) define:

The word hămôr, “ass,” indicating the king’s mount, is the first of three animal terms used in this passage. Its commonplace usage in the Bible signifies a beast of burden (e.g., Genesis 42:26, 44:13, 45:23; I Samuel 16:20; II Samuel 16:1; etc.). However, cognate terms in Ugarit and Mari were used for animals that a deity rides or that draw a chariot in a ritual festival. In contrast to the horse, the mule was evidently a symbol of peace (Wilhelm Theodor In der Smitten 1980:466, 469). Although a lowly beast (Genesis 49:14ff.), it could signify royalty. The story of Saul retrieving asses may be an allusion to his future office [I Samuel 9:3-10], and the succession story of Solomon has him on a mule rather than a horse (although the word there is pered rather than hămôr [I Kings 1:33, 38]). The range of images attached to hămôr is striking, and they may all contribute to the message of this passage—that the king represents peace, that his humble beast is suitable for his role in submitting to divine power while exerting his own royal dominion, and that he is a legitimate monarch. The use of a lowly animal is one of the ways in which a royal figure partakes of the life-style of the people he dominates. In this way he bridges the structural gap between those in power and those subjugated and thereby helps to win the cooperation of people dominated by the royal elite. (Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9-14 (Anchor Bible), 130)

Mark Allen Hahlen (b. 1959) and Clay Alan Ham (b. 1962) add:

The extended description of the donkey (חמור, hămôr) as a colt, the foal of a donkey [Zechariah 9:10] more narrowly describes the king’s mount in both the premonarchical periods (Judges 5:10, 10:4, 12:14; II Samuel 16:1-2; I Kings 1:33). Evidence from Ur and Mari indicates the donkey is the royal mount par excellence in ancient Near East from the second millennium B.C. The association of the donkey with the promised ruler from Judah (Genesis 49:11) and with David (II Samuel 16:1-2) suggests it as an appropriate image for the legitimate Davidic heir. The choice of a donkey rather than a horse to portray the coming of the king also subverts militaristic notions. The horses and chariots that belong to Israel, Persia, or any other nation cannot secure for them the kingdom of Yahweh. This truth resonates with the earlier affirmation that the success of Joshua and Zerubbabel comes not from human power or might (Zechariah 4:6). (Hahlen and Ham, Minor Prophets, Volune 2: Nahum–Malachi (College Press NIV Commentary), 431)

As noted, there is precedence for ancient monarchs enlisting similar transportation. David L. Petersen (b. 1943) informs:

Just as the...previous poem used surprisingly vivid imagery to describe Yahweh’s presence in Jerusalem, namely, camping at his house [Zechariah 9:8], so too...this second poem uses vivid language to depict the king’s arrival in Jerusalem. To think of a king riding on a donkey may strike one as farfetched. However, we know that human kings in the Ancient Near East, particularly as attested in second millennium B.C.E. texts, rode donkeys. Genesis 49:10-11 also clearly demonstrates that these animals are mentioned in references to royalty (cf. II Samuel 16:2). The sole exception to this pervasive royal imagery is the term “humble,” which is used here to redefine the character of the divine king. (Petersen, Zechariah 9-14 and Malachi: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 58)

Carol L. Meyers (b. 1942) and Eric M. Meyers (b. 1940) discuss:

The image of a royal figure mounted on an ass rather than a horse derives from a rather well-established Near Eastern practice of royalty in procession on a mule (Samuel Feigin [1893-1950] 1944; Jack M. Sasson [b. 1941] 1976:72-73). The description here is perhaps a reapplication of the text of Genesis 49:10ff., where in Jacob’s blessing of Judah and the dynastic promise is related to an action involving donkeys (Michael A. Fishbane [b. 1943 1980:355 and 1985:501-02). Fishbane suggests that the postexilic setting of Zechariah 9 is propitious for reworking an older text that forces a future that has not been realized since the Exile. An ancient blessing is reworked into a striking oracle, giving authority to what it envisions. (Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9-14 (Anchor Bible), 129)

Jewish texts especially emphasize the image of a king riding a donkey. George L. Klein (b. 1955) chronicles:

The biblical story of the coming messianic King likely begins with Genesis 49:10-11: “The scepter will not depart from Judah...He will tether his donkey to a vine.” The Judaic commentary, Genesis Rabbah, also connects the donkey tied to the vine in Genesis 49 to messianic interpretation. Zechariah’s Messiah represents the culmination of the Lord’s promise to David of a Davidic King who would reign perpetually: “Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me; your throne will be established forever” (II Samuel 7:16). (Klein, Zechariah (New American Commentary), 271)

Pamela J. Scalise (b. 1950) supplements:

The king’s procession to Zion, riding on a donkey, follows an indigenous monarchic tradition found in Judges 5:10, 10:4, 12:14 and II Samuel 16:2. David’s return to Jerusalem after putting down Absalom’s revolt provides the background for this picture. He had left the city almost as a fugitive, reviled by his enemies and humbled by the treachery of his favorite son. He returned, having been saved in battle. The picture of the donkey-mounted monarch also interprets this promised king as ruler in Genesis 49:8-12, who tethers “his donkey to a vine,/his colt to the choicest branch.” Here in Zechariah 9:9, as in Genesis 49:11, the colt in the second line specifies the kind of “donkey,” purebred and not previously ridden. It does not name a second animal. The ruler from the tribe of Judah will hold “the obedience of the nations” (Genesis 49:10). A blessing once fulfilled in the Davidic monarchy is here renewed as an eschatological promise. (John Goldingay [b. 1942] and Scalise, Minor Prophets II (Understanding the Bible Commentary Series), 274)

While the motif of the king atop a donkey is present, the parallels between Genesis 49:10-11 and Zechariah 9:9-10 are imprecise. Mark J. Boda (b. 1962) observes:

This verse [Zechariah 9:9] appears to assume the royal tradition of Genesis 49:10-11, in which Judah will produce a king for Israel who will ride on a “donkey...colt.”...One should not, however, miss elements of contrast between Genesis 49 and Zechariah 9:9, as Iain M. Duguid [b. 1960] has pointed out. Rather than a figure hailing from the warlike tribe of Judah (Genesis 49:8), whose garments drip with blood from battle (Genesis 49:11), Zechariah 9 presents a humble king. “The warlike language is still present in Zechariah 9 but it has been transferred from the royal figure to the Lord himself.” (Boda, Haggai, Zechariah (NIV Application Commentary))

David L. Petersen (b. 1943) theorizes:

Though there seems to be a tradition of the king—in Israel, David—riding on a donkey, I do not think the poet is quoting another biblical text, contra Klaus Seybold [1936-2011], “Späetprophetische Hoffnungen auf die Wiederkunft des Davidischen Zeitalters in Sach 9-14,” Judaica 29 (1973): 104-5. Though there is clear allusion to royal traditions, I do not think that Zechariah 9:9-10 presents a specific allusion to a Vorbild in the Davidic period. (Petersen, Zechariah 9-14 and Malachi: A Commentary (Old Testament Library), 58)

Given this connection between animal and monarch, it is not surprising that many have taken the donkey as indicative of its rider’s royalty. Katrina J.A. Larkin classifies:

חמוד — another tone-setting word, this time kingly (George M.A. Hanfmann [1911-1986] (1985) traces the tradition of the ‘donkey’ as royal mount back to eighteenth century Mari); and possibly David (Klaus Seybold [1936-2011] 1973;103). (Larkin, The Eschatology of Second Zechariah: A Study of the Formation of a Mantological Wisdom Anthology, 63)

Kenneth G. Hoglund (b. 1954) counters:

Though the literature does not always do so, we must distinguish between a donkey (referred to in this passage), and a mule (hybrid between horse and donkey). The mule (Hebrew pered) is preferred over the donkey as an official royal mount. The evidence for a donkey as a royal mount in antiquity is meager. In Akkadian there is an occasional passing reference to a donkey for the king to ride. A Hittite narrative, The Queen of Qanesh and the Tale of Zalpa, has the thirty royal sons driving a donkey, but does not specify that they ride them. In Ugaritical literature, the goddess Athiratu rides on a donkey in one text, thus indicating it a regal mount if not royal...In biblical texts elites occasionally ride on an ‘ayir (the second word used in this text...see Judges 10:4, 12:13) or on an ’ātōn (the third term, foal of a “donkey,” and Balaam’s mount in Numbers 22:21-33). Consequently, evidence is lacking to suggest that the king in this verse is being provided with royal trappings. (John H. Walton [b. 1952], The Minor Prophets, Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs (Zondervan Illustrated Bible Backgrounds Commentary), 220-21)

Others have seen the donkey as evidence of the monarch’s inherent humility. Thomas Edward McComiskey (1928-1996) construes:

The donkey appears to express humility in this context, because Zechariah 9:10 states that the Lord will cut off the horse from his people, ending their misplaced trust in implements of war. Since Zion’s king establishes peace among the nations (Zechariah 9:10), it would be anomalous for him to ride an animal that symbolizes war. The donkey, on the other hand, stands out in this text as a deliberate rejection of this symbol of arrogant trust in human might, expressing subservience to the sovereignty of God. We must view Israel’s king in contrast to Alexander the Great [356-323 BCE] and the other proud conquerors of history. The reference to his riding a beast of burden, not a white charger, underscores this sense of the word ‘āni. Jerusalem’s king is of humble mien, yet victorious, and so it has always been that the church does not effectively spread the gospel by sword or by arrogance, but by mirroring the humble spirit of its king and savior. (McComiskey, The Minor Prophets: An Exegetical and Expository Commentary, 1166)

Carol L. Meyers (b. 1942) and Eric M. Meyers (b. 1940) concur:

What does the “ass” imagery represent, in light of the frequent emphasis on kings in relation to horses and chariots in the Bible, especially in First Zechariah (Zechariah 1:8, 6:2, 3, 6, cf. Haggai 2:22)? Horses and chariots represent the military, or power aspects of political domination. “Riding on an ass” is a royal image that does not partake of that dimension in dynastic authority. Karl Elliger [1901-1977] (1975:149), in pointing to numerous ancient rituals for kings on mules, may be correct in emphasizing the present setting, by signaling a postvictory scene, is intended to repudiate warfare of any kind. By substituting nonmilitary animals for horses, the prophet is reversing the power imagery associated with a king’s rule. In the eschatological future, the restoration of the Davidic monarchy will radically alter the notion of kingship—the future will not exert exploitative domination or foster socioeconomic elitism...Indeed the beginning of Zechariah 9:10 (wěhikratti), “I will cut off,” makes it clear that the future king will not need to depend on force in the eschatological future...It is difficult to determine whether this altered perspective of the royal figure can be related to the political realities in Yehud in the time of Second Zechariah, by which time any realistic expectation of full political power being restored to Yehud would have dissipated. The presence of First Zechariah of God’s spirit, rather than political force, as the theme for the future may have been based on political pragmatism. Such may also be the case here, with the Near Eastern ideology of stability and world order accompanying a new ruler involved to further strengthen the eschatological imagery of a restored Davidide...In any case it would be overburdening the text to see it as a reflection of conflicting royal ideologies (as Paul D. Hanson [b. 1939] 1973:43-44 and Rex A. Mason [b. 1926] 1976: 237). (Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9-14 (Anchor Bible), 129-30)

A people who do not have a king are told by the prophet that they can expect one (Zechariah 9:9-17). He will be unique. As is indicated by his mount, he will be both royal and humble. He will be as no king has been before. And this is cause for hope.

What words would you use to describe the ideal monarch? What means of transportation would you expect a ruler to use? Why does Israel’s Messiah sit atop a lowly donkey? Is it a sign of humility, royalty, or both? How improbable is this prophecy? Has the prophecy been fulfilled?

The passage is perhaps the most famous in the book of Zechariah due to its association with Jesus (Matthew 21:5; John 12:15). James Montgomery Boice (1938-2000) commends:

Few Messianic prophecies are better known than this, chiefly because of its quotation in Matthew 21:5 and John 12:15 as being fulfilled by the triumphal entry of Jesus into Jerusalem on what we traditionally call Palm Sunday. (Boice, The Minor Prophets, Volume 2: Micah – Malachi, 194)

The donkey is a staple in the gospel stories of Jesus’ “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem. Mike Butterworth (b. 1941) documents:

It is...recorded in all four gospels that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, Matthew 21:1-11; Mark 11:1-11; Luke 19:29-40; John 12:12-18. Matthew and John have an explicit quotation of Zechariah 9:9. (Butterworth, Structure and the Book of Zechariah (Library Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies), 180)

Zechariah’s prophecies impacted the New Testament. George L. Klein (b. 1955) explains:

The book of Zechariah exerted a profound influence over the New Testament, particularly in the realm of Messianic passages—a point long noted by New Testament scholars. Several important themes from the book figure prominently in the New Testament. One of the most important of these is the shepherd-king. From Zechariah 9:9 the King who rode into Jerusalem on a “donkey” reemerges in Matthew 21:5 and John 12:15). C.H. Dodd [1884-1973] even suggests that Zechariah provided the Gospel writers with material of equal importance to the very testimonia of Christ’s ministry. (Klein, Zechariah (New American Commentary), 61-62)

Zechariah 9:9-10 is of particular interest to New Testament scholars. Mike Butterworth (b. 1941) comments:

Zechariah 9:9-10 is probably the best known and most discussed passage in Zechariah 9-14. Christian tradition has affirmed that Christ fulfilled this prophecy when he rode into Jerusalem jut before his arrest and death. Jesus himself seems deliberately to have acted out this prophecy. Since he also referred other passages from Deutero-Zechariah to himself there is considerable interest in the relation that these have each other. Paul Lamarche [1923-2004] connected them by means of his elaborate chiastic structure and argued that together they make up a coherent picture of a shepherd-king messiah. (Butterworth, Structure and the Book of Zechariah (Library Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies), 180)

The passage’s pervasive influence is somewhat perplexing. Richard Coggins (b. 1929) and Jin H. Han deliberate:

This is the first of the passages in Zechariah 9-14 which are taken up in the Gospels as prefiguring the ministry, and particularly the passion, of Jesus (F.F. Bruce [1910-1991]1961 remains the clearest discussion of the material as a whole.) There is still no agreement as to why this section should have been so influential. The passages might all have been incorporated into a collection of Testimonia, but that only raises the difficulty again at one remove: why should this apparently very obscure collection of material have been so widely used? Clearly the New Testament writers regarded it as in some sense “messianic,” but there are no obvious internal grounds for seeing that characteristic as more obvious here than in many other prophetic passages. In general terms this usage may remind us that the New Testament Gospel-writers will have regarded the testimony of God-given Scripture as more reliable than uncertain and sometimes conflicting human memories. (Coggins and Han, Six Minor Prophets Through the Centuries: Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi)

Matthew seems to have taken the prophecy especially literally. Charlene McAfee Moss reports:

Where Luke 19:30 follows Mark 11:2 with respect to Jesus’ instruction to his disciples...the parallel passage in Matthew 21:2 describes two animals–they will find an ass tied and her colt with her...Mark and Luke contain no reference to fulfillment of Scripture in this part of their narratives, however, an echo of Genesis 49:11a may be discerned in the expression, “a colt tied” (Moss, The Zechariah Tradition and the Gospel of Matthew, 80)

Richard Coggins (b. 1929) and Jin H. Han expound:

Matthew 21:4 has brought it into the Gospel’s own characteristic structure, using the same formula as is found frequently there, specifically referring to this as a word “spoken through the prophet.” It is argued that the form of the text used by Matthew already prepared the way for such a reading (Max Wilcox 1988:199-201), and this might tie in with the existence of a collection of Testimonia...Matthew’s reading has been criticized by Jewish scholars on the grounds that he is interpreting poetry as literal fact (Jon D. Levenson [b. 1949] 1993:8). Certainly it seems likely that what was poetic parallelism in the original...has been understood by Matthew as a reference to two animals, on both of which Jesus is to be envisaged as riding into Jerusalem! (Coggins and Han, Six Minor Prophets Through the Centuries: Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi)

Though not explicitly cited, Zechariah 9:9 likely influenced Mark’s gospel as well. Henk Jan de Jonge (b. 1943) suspects:

According to Mark 11:7-11, Jesus entered Jerusalem on a colt. Matthew, in his reworking of this passage (Matthew 21:4), adds the comment that ‘this took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying “Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”’ This is a quotation from Zechariah 9:9, which does not yet occur in Mark. Yet many interpreters of Mark are of the opinion...that Mark’s account of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem alludes to Zechariah 9:9, even if Mark avoids quoting Zechariah explicitly at this point. Not only in Matthew, but also in Mark, is the colt riding the animal mentioned in Zechariah 9:9. (Christopher Tuckett [b. 1948], “The Cleansing of the Temple in Mark 11:15 and Zechariah 14:21”, The Book of Zechariah and Its Influence, 87)

The Christian connection to Jesus has monopolized the interpretation of this Jewish text. Richard Coggins (b. 1929) and Jin H. Han acknowledge:

Largely Christian interpretation has dominated the understanding of a somewhat obscure passage. Jewish writers recognized that there had been a Christian “take-over,” but no concerted alternative interpretation emerged...Joyce G. Baldwin [1921-1995] is perhaps optimistic when she says that “most commentators agree that the Messianic king is foreshadowed here” (Baldwin 1972:163), but it is certainly true that a “messianic” understanding has been widely proposed. One approach which combines a “messianic” type of understanding and has been acceptable to later Judaism has been to see here a reference to Judas Maccabaeus, never a king, but treated, at least by the author of I Maccabees, in quasi-royal terms. Certainly one strand of later Jewish tradition, exemplified by Ibn Ezra [1089-1167], saw in the figure depicted here a reference to Judas Maccabaeus. More generally, it may be that our passage was interpreted by the author of I Maccabees as referring to the exploits of the Hasmoneans, and in particular Jonathan (I Maccabees 11:60-74, 12:1-38, 13:6-11) (Andrew Chester [b. 1948] 1988:152). There is also a possible reference of this kind among the Dead Sea Scrolls (1QM 12:12). (Coggins and Han, Six Minor Prophets Through the Centuries: Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Haggai, Zechariah and Malachi)

The New Testament’s usage of the text does ring true to Zechariah’s original intent. Carol L. Meyers (b. 1942) and Eric M. Meyers (b. 1940) affirm:

The New Testament (Matthew 21:5 and John 12:15) is quite comfortable with the imagery of the passage; in adhering to its peaceful tone, it remains faithful to the original intent of Zechariah. (Meyers and Meyers, Zechariah 9-14 (Anchor Bible), 129)

Given this tradition, Jesus’ conscription of the donkey would likely have evoked messianic hopes in the spectators. Paul R. Eddy (b. 1959) discerns:

With Zechariah (among others) supplying the prophetic script, Jesus’ entry into the city on a donkey and his subsequent temple action (whatever else it signifies) would have consciously evoked messianic expectations. (Carey C. Newman [b. 1959], “The (W)Right Jesus: Eschatological Prophet, Israel’s Messiah, Yahweh Embodied”, Jesus & the Restoration of Israel: A Critical Assessment of N. T. Wright [b. 1948]’s Jesus and the Victory of God, 51)

Jesus is intentional about entering Jerusalem on a donkey (Matthew 21:1-3; Mark 11:1-3; Luke 19:29-31). In doing so, he plays upon Jewish tradition to inform the initiated that he is the long awaited messiah, “humble, and mounted on a donkey”.

Who does this prophecy most benefit? Do its words apply only to Jesus or has it been fulfilled in other ways? Does the prophecy’s existence lead to its fulfillment; is this art reflecting life or life reflecting art? Would Jesus have utilized the donkey had Zechariah not made his prophecy? Did the prophets guide Jesus’ ministry? How much of his identity did Jesus glean from tradition?

“Persistent prophecy is a familiar way of assuring the event.” - George Gissing (1857-1903), “An Author at Grass: Extracts from the Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft”, The Fortnightly Review, Volume LXXII: July to December 1902, p. 337

Crucified Christ: Oxymoron? (I Cor. 1:23)

What did Paul say the preaching of the cross was to Greeks? Foolishness (I Corinthians 1:23)

Paul receives word that the church he founded in Corinth is experiencing internal division (I Corinthians 1:10-12). Corinth was a cosmopolitan city replete with cultural diversity, a fact which may have been a contributing factor to the conflict within the church. After urging unity (I Corinthians 1:12-17), the apostle reminds the congregation of their compelling commonality (I Corinthians 1:18-2:5). The church faces enough opposition from the outside without generating more from within.

Paul generalizes the protests of the outsiders: Jews seek signs while Greeks pursue wisdom (I Corinthians 1:22). In contrast, Paul summarizes his own preaching:

But we preach Christ crucified, to Jews a stumbling block and to Gentiles foolishness, (I Corinthians 1:23 NASB)

The apostle reduces his message to two words: “Christ crucified” (I Corinthians 1:23, 2:2). Typically, the cross and resurrection are uttered in the same breath but here Paul does not mitigate the scandal of the cross by remembering how it was eventually overcome (I Corinthians 1:23). Unappealing though it may be, “Christ crucified” is Paul’s bumper sticker theology.

Paul uses the plural in conjunction with his preaching: “we preach” (I Corinthians 1:23). While this pronoun contrasts nicely with the opposing groups he mentions, it is difficult to determine who it includes.

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor (b. 1935) acknowledges:

The most difficult instances of the first person plural to classify are those in I Corinthians 1:18-31 and I Corinthians 2:6-16. The commentators who take up the challenge are few and far between. C.K. Barrett [1917-2011] ignores the problem in I Corinthians 2:6-16 and without explanation interprets I Corinthians 1:23 as ‘we Christians preach.’ Gordon D. Fee [b. 1934], on the other hand, remarks apropos of this latter text, ‘how natural it is for Paul to slip into this usage; note also that it tends to happen in such places as this, where Paul would be concerned to imply that such preaching is not unique to himself.’ The contradiction betrays the speculative character of both hypotheses. Moreover, the nature of Paul’s evocation of all believers through the use of ‘we’...is markedly different to what appears here, and there is reason to think that Paul was in fact unique in his consistent stress on the brutal modality of Christ’s death. (Murphy-O’Connor, Keys to First Corinthians: Revisiting the Major Issues, 5)

The only person that can be definitively encompassed in“we” is the apostle himself.

Paul insists that he (and whoever else is echoing his preaching) is merely passing along the message of “Christ crucified”. Leon Morris (1914-2006) comments:

The verb preach (kēryssō) is that appropriate to the action of a herald. The message came from God, not the preacher. In this sense it is a peculiarly Christian term. It is used little, if at all, in this way in the classics, in the Septuagint, or in current religious systems like the mystery religions (see Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, iii, pp. 697-700). (Morris, 1 Corinthians (Tyndale New Testament Commentaries), 45-46)

Paul earlier confesses: “For Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel, not in cleverness of speech, so that the cross of Christ would not be made void” (I Corinthians 1:17 NASB). N.T. Wright (b. 1948) characterizes:

When he [Paul] announced it, when he stood up in the synagogue or the market-place or the debating-chamber, he didn’t use clever words to trick people into thinking they believed it because they enjoyed his speaking style. Now, writing this letter, looking back on his initial announcement, he can for a moment spin some good sentences together, to tease them into seeing the point. But he didn’t do that when making the original proclamation. The cross had to do its own work. Simply telling the story released a power of quite a different sort from any power that human speech could have: God’s power, beside which all human power looks weak; God’s wisdom beside which all human learning looks like folly. (Wright, Paul for Everyone: 1 Corinthians, 13)

Paul’s unrefined message is “Christ crucified” (I Corinthians 1:23). Significantly, the apostle utilizes the perfect tense when discussing the crucifixion. Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) identifies:

Paul writes Christon estaurōmenon, using the perfect passive participle of stauroō, “fasten to a cross” (BDAG, 941), a verb that was used by Greek historians and others who mention crucifixion (Polybius [200-118 BCE], Histories 1.86.4; Diodorus Siculus [90-30 BCE], Bibliotheca Historica 16.61.2; Epictetus [55-135], Discourses; Josephus [37-100], Antiquities 2.5.4 §77, 17.10.10 §295; cf. Septuaguint Esther 1:9, 8:12r. (Fitzmyer, First Corinthians (Anchor Bible), 159)

Roy E. Ciampa (b. 1958) and Brian S. Rosner (b. 1959) disclose:

The perfect participle ἐσταυριομένον is employed to describe Christ as crucified, which is the content of Paul’s message. The perfect is used to describe Christ in his present (even resurrected) state as one who has undergone crucifixion (cf. John 20:25-27). Paul stresses the crucified nature of his subject. It is Christ crucified that Paul preaches. “Christ” is anarthrous in the Greek and can be translated “a Christ crucified” (Revised Version margin) or, better, “a crucified Christ” (New Jerusalem Bible). In I Corinthians 15:11-12 Paul declares Christ raised from the dead to be the object of his proclamation. Obviously, “Christ” is what Paul preaches, but here in I Corinthians 1 he emphasizes the central element of his message most opposed to “the wisdom of the world.” (Ciampa and Rosner, The First Letter to the Corinthians (Pillar New Testament Commentary), 99)

The perfect tense accentuates the notion that crucifixion is something that an individual’s reputation cannot overcome: Once crucified, always crucified. As evidenced by Christianity’s early critics, the cross is a stain that cannot be removed. Jesus forever remains the crucified one.

Robert E. Picirilli (b. 1932) explains:

The verb (Greek perfect tense) suggests both the past act of crucifixion and the fixed results of that act that are always present: Christ was crucified, and the achievement stands, always available for application. “It is finished.” [John 19:30] That is the way Christ is proclaimed in the gospel, and that is the heart of the gospel. (Picirilli, 1, 2 Corinthians (Randall House Bible Commnetary, 23)

Bruce N. Fisk (b. 1959) applies:

Followers of Jesus can never move beyond the cross. Unlike some children’s story that holds our affection for a brief time, the cross is neither preliminary nor elementary. On the contrary, the startling claim of the gospel is that the death of Jesus stands at the center of human history. Perhaps this is why the cross proved to be such an obstacle for both the Corinthian elite and for Paul’s Jewish kin as well...Stubbornly Paul insists on summing up his message with two simple words: Christ crucified (I Corinthians 1:23, 2:2). (Fisk, First Corinthians (Interpretation Bible Studies), 10-11)

In this time of division, Paul offers a refresher course in the basics. Christ crucified is not an insignificant fragment of Paul’s ideology; it represents the substance of his theology. It is the gospel in a nutshell.

Alan F. Johnson (b. 1933) affirms:

This is the heart of Paul’s message and his whole understanding of God’s matchless wisdom. All else follows from this central core; without it, all else is a rabbit trail that leads nowhere, a powerless gospel. (Johnson, 1 Corinthians (IVP New Testament Commentary), 58)

Richard A. Horsley (b. 1939) determines:

Of Paul’s fifteen references to the cross or Christ crucified, six come in this passage [I Corinthians 1:18-25], with another six grouped in Galatians. It would appear that Paul mentions the cross or Christ crucified when he feels some threat to the implications of his gospel for the current life of the communities he has founded: these are found only in Galatians (Galatians 3:1, 5:11, 24, 6:12, 14) against the threat he feels from “Judaizers”; briefly in Philippians 3:18; and here in I Corinthians (I Corinthians 1:13, 17, 18, 23, 2:2, 8; with II Corinthians 13:4 probably derivative). Paul focuses on the cross in this context because he finds the sophia of some of the Corinthians to be a serious threat to the community. (Horsley, 1 Corinthians (Abingdon New Testament Commentaries), 48)

Charles H. Talbert (b. 1934) pinpoints:

In this self-contained unit [I Corinthians 1:17-2:5] Paul tells what he preached at Corinth, how he did it, and why he preached as he did. At the center of the chiasmus is what he preached: Christ crucified (I Corinthians 1:23a). Judging from the context, the cross here does not refer to the death of Jesus as a sacrifice for sins (as in Romans 3:25-26), as a victory over the evil powers (as in Colossians 2:15), or as a revelation of God’s love (as in Romans 5:8), but rather to Jesus’ death to sin (as in Romans 6:10; he died rather than sin), in which believers are called to participate (e.g., Romans 6:3, 6-7, 10-11; Galatians 2:10). (Talbert, Reading Corinthians: A Literary and Theological Commentary, 17)

Jesus is the Christ and, for Paul, this status is directly linked to the mode of his death. Christopher Tuckett (b. 1948) observes:

One striking group of texts in Paul relates Jesus’ identity as the Christ to his death on the cross. Thus Paul talks very regularly of ‘Christ crucified’ (I Corinthians 1:23, 2:2; Galatians 3:1) or the ‘cross of Christ’ (I Corinthians 1:17; Philippians 3:18). He never talks about the ‘crucified Lord’ or ‘the Lord who was crucified’. The exact link between crucifixion and messiahship is not certain, and Paul certainly never spells it out. (Tuckett, Christology and the New Testament: Jesus and His Earliest Followers, 47)

Bart D. Ehrman (b. 1955) contends:

For Paul, Jesus actually was the messiah, not despite the fact that he was crucified but precisely because he was crucified. He bore the curse of the Law (since he was hanged on a tree [Deuteronomy 21:23]); but since he was God’s chosen, he bore this curse not for any wrong he had done but for the wrong done by others. It is through his crucifixion, therefore, that one can escape from the curse of the Law and be set free from the power of sin that alienates people from God. (Ehrman, God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question–Why We Suffer, 150)

It is precisely the identifier that Paul emphasizes that creates a marketing nightmare as the cross presents intrinsic impediments to both religious and secular audiences (I Corinthians 1:23). Later interpreters note that the cross passes the criterion of embarrassment; that is to say that this is a detail that must be historically true as no one would have possibly benefitted from its fabrication.

The cross alienated both Jews and Gentiles (I Corinthians 1:22-23). To the Jews it proved a “stumbling block” (ASV, ESV, HCSB, KJV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NRSV, RSV). Gordon D. Fee (b. 1934) notes:

The Greek word translated “stumbling block” is σκάνδαλον, from which we derive our word “scandal.” “Scandal” is in fact closer to the sense than “stumbling block,” since the word does not so much mean something that one is tripped up by as something that offends to the point of arousing opposition. (Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 75)

Anthony C. Thiselton (b. 1937) examines:

The word σκάνδαλον...has been variously rendered as scandal (C.K. Barrett [1917-2011], Gordon D. Fee [b. 1934]), stumbling block (AV/KJV, NRSV, NIV, Raymond F. Collins [b. 1935], James Moffatt [1870-1944]), or an obstacle they cannot get over (New Jerusalem Bible). All of these can be defended. The Greek word occurs only rarely outside the Septuagint and New Testament, but occurs six times in Matthew and Luke, six times in the Pauline epistles (once each in I Peter, I John and Revelation), i.e. 15 times in the New Testament. Edwin Hatch [1835-1889]-Henry A. Redpath [1848-1908] list 21 occurrences in the Septuagint, where it translates four Hebrew words of which the two main nouns are שמןק (moqesh) and ןלשמכ (mikshol). These may relate to catching in a snare, but the meaning trap, or more strictly the tripstick of a trap, is not well attested in nonbiblical Greek, and offers only one of several possible meanings in most of the New Testament examples. In Galatians 5:11 Paul speaks of τό σκάνδαλον του σταυρου, where a double affront is caused by the curse entailed for one who is hanged on the cross and by the nullification of the role of self-help. Peter’s suggestion in Matthew that Jesus should avoid the cross is itself a σκάνδαλον to Jesus (Matthew 16:23). C.K. Barrett [1917-2011] and Gordon D. Fee [b. 1934] insist it includes scandal; thus Today’s English Version translates what is offensive. In several contexts the word denotes what may provoke someone to a negative or even rebellious reaction. No single English word seems to cover its various nuances, and much of the emphasis depends on the context. When we bear in mind Stephen M. Pogoloff [b. 1949]’s convincing picture of what it would be to proclaim a crucified criminal of modest status to those who sought honour, esteem, and success, to translate an affront seems to capture the mood and nuance most closely. (Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (New International Greek Testament Commentary), 171)

Roy E. Ciampa (b. 1958) and Brian S. Rosner (b. 1959) reinforce:

Although the word appears only here in I Corinthians, Paul uses it in a similar context in Romans 9:33 and Romans 11:11-12. In both cases an Old Testament citation identifies Christ as a stumbling block for Israel (Isaiah 8:14 and Psalm 69:23-24 respectively). Isaiah 8:14 in particular gives the flavor of the term with various synonyms: “He will become a stone of offense and a stumbling block to both houses of Israel, a trap and a snare to the inhabitants of Jerusalem.” Together these texts suggest that a stumbling block is more serious than simply an insulting affront; it also leads to disastrous consequences. (Ciampa and Rosner, The First Letter to the Corinthians (Pillar New Testament Commentary), 100)

Paul’s Jewish audience stumbled over what he deemed bedrock as Jesus did not restore the Davidic throne in the way most Jews anticipated that the Messiah would. Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971) describes:

The offence lay primarily in the crucified rather than in the triumphant Messiah; and in the assertion that in the drama of his crucifixion, we have a revelation of the divine mercy in which God takes the sins of the world upon himself. This affirmation is freely confessed by Paul as being “to the Jews a stumbling-block” (I Corinthians 1:23). It does not follow with logical necessity from anything predicted in Messianic hopes, though the Christian community (rightly I believe) saw it as a fulfillment of the quasi-Messianic conception in the Second Isaiah of the “suffering servant.” [Isaiah 53:1-12] (Niebuhr, The Essential Reinhold Niebuhr: Selected Essays and Addresses, 192)

David E. Garland (b. 1947) augments:

From a Jewish standpoint, a crucified Messiah was an oxymoron, which becomes a major stumbling block (σκάνδαλον, skandalon) because Scripture brands anyone hanged on a tree as accursed of God (Deuteronomy 21:23). In Justin Martyr [100-165]’s Dialogue with Trypho 31-32, Rabbi Trypho remains unpersuaded by Justin’s attempt to prove from Daniel 7 that Jesus was the Messiah and responds, “Sir, these and suchlike passages of scripture compel us to await One who is great and glorious, and takes the everlasting Kingdom from the Ancient of Days as Son of Man. But this your so-called Christ is without honour and glory, so that He has even fallen into the uttermost curse that is in the Law of God, for he was crucified.” For those who think that God must be mighty and strong, not weak, the cross is “an affront to God’s majesty” (Troels Engberg-Pedersen [b. 1948] 1987: 562). It is insulting “to link God with weakness” (Peter Lampe [b. 1954] 1990: 121). The cross also dashes cherished hopes of temporal triumph and world supremacy. (Garland, 1 Corinthians (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 69-70)

There was no room in most Jews’ theology for a crucified Christ. Not only did the cross present challenges, the average Jew would have seen no benefits.

Amy-Jill Levine (b. 1956) speculates:

Most Jews would not have accepted Paul’s claims any more than they would have accepted a messiah without a messianic age. They already had the belief in the resurrection of the dead, and they believed in a just God who forgave sin. Thus, this new Galilean savior would be for them a redundancy—there was nothing broken or missing in their system that his death and resurrection could fix or fill. Further, most would have found the entire notion of a crucified messiah who brings about by his death salvation from death and sin ridiculous. As Paul puts it in I Corinthians 1:23, “We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block...to Jews and foolishness...to Gentiles.” (Levine, The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus, 67)

The issue is not just the existence of the theory of a crucified Messiah or even its popularity. James D.G. Dunn (b. 1939) diagnoses:

The offense for most Jews was not simply the message of a crucified Messiah, the fact that some other Jews (and Gentiles) believed and preached that Jesus, crucified and all, was Messiah. It was the prospect of accepting that claim for themselves which was the stumbling block. They stumbled not over the beliefs of others, but at the challenge to share that belief for themselves. (Dunn, The Christ & the Spirit, Volume 1: Christology, 218)

Paul understood the Jewish objections to Jesus all too well as he once espoused them. Wilfrid J. Harrington (b. 1927) conjectures:

When Paul declared: “We preach Christ crucified, a stumbling-block to Jews and folly to Gentiles” (I Corinthians 1:23), he spoke from wry experience. He thought not only of the missionary challenge but, surely, recalled his personal conflict. (Harrington, Seeking Spiritual Growth Through the Bible, 68)

Seyoon Kim (b. 1946) concurs:

James D.G. Dunn [b. 1939] grants that from I Corinthians 1:23 it can fairly be inferred that the pre-conversion Paul was offended by the Christian proclamation of the “crucified Messiah,” and from Galatians 3:13 that on the basis of Deuteronomy 21:23 he persecuted the Christians who proclaimed the crucified Jesus as God’s Messiah. So Dunn recognizes that Paul was converted to “Christ crucified,” which “was part of the base-rock faith of the first Christians.” (Kim, Paul and the New Perspective : Second Thoughts on the Origin of Paul’s Gospel, 13-14)

“Feel Felt Found” is a proven selling technique. The salesperson identifies with an objecting customer and pitches newfound data, professing that “I understand why you feel... Others have felt... What they found was...” Paul could have genuinely incorporated this strategy.

Alan F. Segal (1945-2011) informs:

Paul...still understands the Jewish position, but he can no longer accept it at face value. Rather, he transforms it into a new understanding of messiahship. He says in I Corinthians 1:23, “but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to gentiles.” Paul knows in ways that the later church cannot appreciate how difficult it was for a Jew to accept a crucified messiah and how difficult it was for a gentile to accept a crucified god or hero. (Segal, Paul the Convert: The Apostolate and Apostasy of Saul the Pharisee, 123)

Paul fully realizes how difficult it is to affirm the cross and the natural consequences that come with worshiping a crucified person. Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) relays:

Paul speaks of Jesus’ demise as “even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:8), and how he would not boast “save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Galatians 6:14). The consequence is that the believing Christian knows that he or she is “co-crucified with Christ: it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me; and the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20). For the Christian “always carries in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies” (II Corinthians 4:10). (Fitzmyer, First Corinthians (Anchor Bible), 159)

The cross was no more palatable to the Jews’ counterparts, the “Gentiles” (ASV, CEV, ESV, HCSB, NASB, NIV, NLT, NRSV, RSV) or “Greeks” (KJV, MSG, NKJV). The Greek text of I Corinthians 1:23 actually uses the broader “Gentiles” (eth’-nos) while the preceding verse speaks of “Greeks”.

H.H. Drake Williams, III (b. 1965) discusses:

Although Greeks is used in I Corinthians 1:22 and Gentiles in I Corinthians 1:23, both of these terms should be understood as equal in I Corinthians 1:22-24. Oftentimes Paul uses Greeks and Gentiles interchangeably (Romans 1:16, 2:9ff, 3:9, 10:12; I Corinthians 10:32, 12:13; Galatians 3:28). The present use of the term Greeks is likely due to the predominant Greek population of Corinth. Ernest Best [1917-2004], “The Power and the Wisdom of God,” 27. What is most important is that both of these groups are understood together as comprehensive of the wisdom of the world. Wolfgang Schrage [b. 1928], Der erste Brief an die Korinther, 182-83. (Williams, The Wisdom of the Wise: The Presence and Function of Scripture Within 1 Cor. 1:18-3:23, 98)

Raymond F. Collins (b. 1935) specifies:

Implicitly Paul identifies the Gentiles (ethnesin; hellēsi, “Hellenes,” in some manuscripts) with the Hellenes of I Corinthians 1:22, 24. For those Gentiles who did not receive the gospel of Christ preached by Paul the content of his message is folly. Had Paul allowed cultivated Gentiles to be captivated by his use of oratorical skills he would have deprived the very cross of Christ of its power (I Corinthians 1:17). In fact, the object of Paul’s epistolary wrath is not so much Gentiles as such but the Hellenes, whom he now identifies as Gentiles, whose pursuit of wisdom causes the cross of Christ to be deprived of its power. (Collins, First Corinthians (Sacra Pagina), 107-08)

These Gentiles characterize the cross as “foolishness” (ASV, CEV, HCSB, KJV, NASB, NIV, NKJV, NRSV), “folly” (ESV, RSV), “absurd” (MSG) or “nonsense” (NLT). The Greek is moría, from which English derives the term “moron.”

Gordon D. Fee (b. 1934) prescribes:

To the “Gentiles” the message of “Christ crucified” was a “pernicious superstition” and “utter foolishness.” As Martin Hengel [1926-2009] notes, Paul’s word for folly here “does not denote either a purely intellectual defect nor a lack of transcendental wisdom. Something more is involved,” something more closely akin to “madness.” It is hard for those in the christianized West, where the cross for almost nineteen centuries has been the primary symbol of faith, to appreciate how utterly mad the message of a God who got himself crucified by his enemies must have seemed to the first-century Greek or Roman. But it is precisely the depth of this scandal and folly that we must appreciate if we are to understand both why the Corinthians were moving away from it toward wisdom and why it was well over a century before the cross appears among Christians as a symbol of their faith.” (Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 76)

L.L. Welborn (b. 1953) speculates that Paul drew upon imagery from a popular mime:

It now seems likely that Paul’s astonishing and paradoxical equation of the cross and foolishness was mediated by the mime. The most popular mime of Paul’s day was the Laureolus of Catullus...References by historians, poets, and commentators make it possible to reconstruct the plot. Laureolus is a slave who runs away from his master and becomes the leader of a band of robbers. Some record of his crimes must have been presented; there was a scene in which he was captured, and a final scene in which he was crucified. The crucifixion was enacted with a considerable degree of stage realism. Josephus [37-100] reports that ‘a great quantity of artificial blood flowed down from the one crucified.’ Suetonius [70-130] records a performance on the day of Caligula [12-41]’s assassination, in which the chief actor fell and vomited blood. Suetonius notes that the performance was immediately followed by a humorous afterpiece in which ‘several mimic fools (plures secunfarum) so vied with one another in giving evidence of their proficiency at dying that the stage swam in blood.’ According to Martial, a condemned criminal was forced to take the part of Laureolus at a performance during the reign of Titus [39-81], and actually died on the cross. Paul may have this mime in mind when he describes the message of the crucified Christ as ‘foolishness’. (Welborn, Paul, the Fool of Christ: A Study of 1 Corinthians 1-4 in the Comic-Philosophic Tradition, 99-100)

Wisdom loving Greeks sought a logical rationale and the cross simply did not add up. Human wisdom falls short in understanding the cross; its genius is something the human mind cannot fully grasp.

Verlyn D. Verbrugge (b. 1942) relates:

Who in their right mind would say that the way to get peace with God is to build a relationship with someone who suffered the type of death reserved only for the worst criminals in the Roman Empire? Such an attitude is not unlike suggesting to people today to count as their hero someone condemned to the electric chair or to death by lethal injection. (Tremper Longman III [b. 1952] and David E. Garland [b. 1947], Romans–Galatians (The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, 268)

Crucifixion simply could not be on the Messiah’s resume. It was comparable to a felony background weeding out applicants for government jobs. A crucified person need not apply to be the Christ. For many, “crucified Christ” is nothing less than an oxymoron.

Gordon D. Fee (b. 1934) relays:

To the seekers of signs and wisdom Paul now presents the ultimate divine contradiction: “But we preach Christ crucified.” Rather than giving them the signs and wisdom they demand—and God has plenty of both—they get weakness and folly. Indeed, “Christ crucified” is a contradiction in terms, of the same category as “fried ice.” One may have a Messiah, or one may have a crucifixion; but one may not have both—at least not from the perspective of merely human understanding. Messiah meant power, splendor, triumph; crucifixion meant weakness, humiliation, defeat. Little wonder that both Jew and Greek were scandalized by the Christian message. During Roman times crucifixion was the ultimate penalty, reserved mainly for rebellious subjects of various kinds (insurrectionists and the like) and slaves. Jesus died as a state criminal, a scandal to Jew, Greek, and Christian alike. (Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (The New International Commentary on the New Testament), 75)

On the surface, the Christ dying is itself illogical, much less suffering a reprehensible death. David E. Garland (b. 1947) understands:

Gentiles think it folly for God to let his Son die to save others. Paul’s preaching not only proclaims that this is what God did but also demands that the listener become joined to Christ in his humiliation and death. What honor or status can accrue from binding oneself to a crucified person? Humans, however, are the fools in thinking that they can “domesticate the sovereign God” and capture God in the images of creatures (Romans 1:23, 25; Peter Lampe [b. 1954] 1990: 123-24). (Garland, 1 Corinthians (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament), 70)

Dissatisfaction with the cross persisted for centuries. It resurfaces in Pliny the Younger (61-113)’s letter to Trajan (53-117) and the writings of the satirist Lucian (125-180). Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) documents:

It is...folly to Gentiles, because such wisdom seekers regard the kerygma as the opposite of the goal of their search...In I Corinthians 1:18-20, “folly” was contrasted with the “wisdom” of all unbelievers; now it is restricted, as it stands in contrast to the wisdom of the “Gentiles.” So the satirical Sophist, Lucian of Samosata (A.D. 120-180?), mocked Christians: ton de aneskolopismenon ekeinon sophistēn auton proskynōsin kai kata tous ekeinou nomous biōsin, “they worship that crucified sophist himself and live according to his laws” (De morte Peregrini 13). What lies behind such an attitude is the recognition that Jesus died the death that was known in the contemporary Roman world as servile supplicium, “the slave’s punishment” (Valerius Maximus, Factorum 7.12; cf. Martin Hengel [1926-2009], Crucifixion, 51-63). (Fitzmyer, First Corinthians (Anchor Bible), 159-60)

Further disapproval came from the fact that an eschatological savior did not fit the Greek worldview in the first place. George T. Montague (b. 1929) explains:

The Greek understanding of time and history were not eschatological: it did not have a conception of a goal toward which history was moving. “Time,” Aristotle [384-322 BCE] said, “is a kind of circle.” Thus a religious founder should be one who more than any other would lead one to contemplate the order and harmony of the universe and lead humanity to a more harmonious subjection to its inevitability. This was at least the view of the Stoics, who were Paul’s contemporaries and with whom he argued in Athens (Acts 17:18). In short, such a founder should be a philosopher. A founder who stands the world’s values on its head by going to death on a cross—the fate of the criminal dregs of humanity—would indeed have no chance of winning the Greek, even less by claiming that the cross was followed by the resurrection of the body. As for the Jewish critic, the apparent failure of one who claimed to be the Messiah was proof that he was not. That is why it takes a special grace, a divine call, to read in the cross more than stupidity and weakness. (Montague, First Corinthians (Catholic Commentary on Sacred Scripture), 47)

Margaret E. Thrall (1928-2010) adds:

Cultured pagans, with the example of Socrates [469-399 BCE] in mind, might well admire Jesus as a wise and good teacher unjustly put to death. But the idea that his death was itself part of a divine plan for the welfare of mankind would be sheer stupidity to such people as these. (Thrall, First and Second Letters of Paul to the Corinthians (Cambridge Bible Commentary), 21)

The familiarity of Christianity has dulled awareness to the foolishness of a crucified Christ. Jerome Murphy-O’Connor (b. 1935) reminds:

As religions go, Christianity is the most unreasonable. It proclaims that a crucified criminal is the saviour of the world. Today’s Christians cannot appreciate the incredulous revulsion which was the normal reaction to the proclamation of the gospel in the first century. Both Jews and Greeks agreed that the idea of a crucified saviour was a scandal and a folly (I Corinthians 1:23). (O’Connor, 1 Corinthians: A Guide for Reflection and Prayer (Daily Bible Commentary), 22)

Ian S. Markham (b. 1962) concurs:

From time to time, Christians should stand back and acknowledge how odd our faith looks. For Christians claim that the most important divine action in history is the humiliating death of a poor Jew at the hands of an occupying power. The central Christian symbol is the ancient equivalent of the hangman’s noose or the electric chair. Instead of a dramatic demonstration of God’s power, we have weakness. It is odd. And it is to us now as it was to the first Christians. (David L. Bartlett [b. 1941] and Barbara Brown Taylor [b. 1951], Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 2, Lent through Eastertide, 86)

Patrick J. Ryan (b.1939) accents:

Paul, firing his first two salvos against his critics in the Corinthian Christian community, noted that neither Jews demanding signs of God’s power to deliver them from bondage nor Greeks looking for philosophical insight or wisdom could make sense of a crucified messiah: “a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles” (I Corinthians 1:23). At the center of our Christian churches we have, not a bowl of flowers nor an empty space, but a grisly instrument of capital punishment. We venerate the image of a crucified man, the temple of his body destroyed and raised in three days. Whether that image shows Jesus as the majestic Messiah enthroned on the cross or as the Suffering Servant twisted in his final agony, it demonstrates a central mystery of our faith. (Ryan, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross: Scriptural Reflections for Lent, 64-65)

Like many contemporary people, both Jews and Gentiles were looking for God on their own terms. A crucified Christ cut across the expectations of both groups as the cross precluded its victim from being a conquering king or an incontestable philosopher. In short, God did not present the Savior the people desired.

Richard E. Oster, Jr. (b. 1947) recognizes:

Quite often God does not offer to individuals what they want, especially as incentives to faith. It is especially clear in the death of God’s Anointed, that the desire to root faith in the soil of human understanding of how and when God should act has to be abandoned. Accordingly, Paul reaffirms that his message does not takes its cue from the religious passion of his contemporaries for signs and wisdom; rather he offers a crucified Messiah. The Pauline gospel is a stumbling block...to the unbelieving Jews for the very reason that it fails, in their preconceived theology, to reflect an understanding of God and his kingdom that has any attraction to them. The Gentiles likewise regard the message of Paul as foolishness because it is so antithetical to the supposedly enlightened wisdom they have developed and taught for centuries. (Oster, 1 Corinthians (College Press NIV Commentary), 65)

In responding to the crucifixion, Jews and Gentiles are in the strange position of being in the same boat. The Message paraphrases, “Jews treat this like an anti-miracle—and Greeks pass it off as absurd.” The politics of the cross makes for strange bedfellows.

Raymond F. Collins (b. 1935) connects:

Because of their own cultural traditions with respect to knowledge Jews and Gentiles are closed to the gospel of the crucified Christ. With respect to salvation and their appropriation of the salvific word of the cross both Jews and Gentiles ultimately share a common lot. The equality with respect to salvation of both Jew and Gentile is a major theme of Paul’s “last will and testament,” the letter to the Romans (Romans 1:16-3:20, 9-11). (Collins, First Corinthians (Sacra Pagina), 107)

As the cross alienates Jews and Gentiles alike, Paul misses his two primary target audiences: both the religious and the secular are offended by the cross. Cornelia Cyss Crocker (b. 1955) grants:

Paul himself states that his message was either regarded as a scandal or as utter folly (I Corinthians 1:23), depending on people’s background and perspective. One can imagine many in his audience shaking their heads and walking away in disbelief because someone who bore the messianic title could not possibly have been crucified or, rather, someone who had been crucified could not possibly bear the messianic title any longer. To claim such a thing would be a complete contradiction in terms, a true oxymoron. At the very least, professing Jesus as Christ and setting that in conjunction with death by crucifixion would point at a paradoxical, highly tensive, and profoundly aporetic reality. (Crocker, Reading 1 Corinthians in the Twenty-First Century, 56-57)

Frederick Buechner (b. 1926) concedes:

The message that a convicted felon was the bearer of God’s forgiving and transforming love was hard enough for anybody to swallow and for some especially so. For hellenized sophisticates-the Greeks, as Paul puts it - it could only seem absurd. What uglier, more supremely inappropriate symbol of, say, Plato [427-347 BCE]’s Beautiful and Good could there be than a crucified Jew? And for the devout Jew, what more scandalous image of the Davidic king-messiah, before whose majesty all the nations were at last to come to heel?...Paul’s God didn’t look much like what they were after, and Paul was the first to admit it. Who stood by Jesus when the going got rough, after all? (Buechner, “Paul Sends His Love”, Secrets in the Dark, 198-99)

Roy E. Ciampa (b. 1958) and Brian S. Rosner (b. 1959) decipher:

To those hoping for something impressive and irrefutable, Paul preaches the altogether odd and unexpected: Christ crucified. This is akin to proclaiming as good news that the victor has been vanquished, the market has collapsed, or the holiday has been cancelled. It is only our familiarity that dulls the strangeness of Paul’s message for us. In the most general sense, the “Christ” is the king destined to rule. To announce his ignominious demise is to brand him an utter failure and would hardly seem to constitute a “gospel.” Archibald Robertson [1863-1934] and Alfred Plummer [1841-1926] explain the understandable disappointment for both Jews and Greeks at such preaching: “The Jews demanded a victorious Christ, heralded by signs, who would restore the glories of the kingdom of David and Solomon...Christ was not preached as a conqueror to please the one, nor as a philosopher to please the other...Both had to learn the divine character of humility.” As Philippians 2:1-11 indicates, this aspect of the work of Christ has ethical implications. If Christ “humbled himself...even to death on a cross,” then being “like-minded” and “doing nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit” follow as imperatives for his people. These qualities are the very things the Corinthians are lacking. (Ciampa and Rosner, The First Letter to the Corinthians (Pillar New Testament Commentary), 99-100)

The problematic nature of the cross was virtually universal. Martin E. Marty (b. 1928) summarizes:

In one of the earliest documents of the faith a letter-writer named Paul agreed that Jesus Christ was a “stumbling block [=scandal] to the Jews and foolishness to the Gentiles” (I Corinthians 1:23), which meant that he was a problem to just about everyone. (Marty, The Christian World: A Global History, xiii)

In light of these obvious difficulties, belief is nothing short of a miracle. And yet Christianity with its counter intuitive message of a crucified Christ has endured for centuries. Part of its success is due to the fact that, in spite of its repulsive nature, people like Paul have preached the doctrine of the crucified Christ unapologetically, never diminishing or disguising its power.

Mark D. Roberts (b. 1957) admits:

The essence of Paul’s “full disclosure of truth” was precisely what his Corinthian opponents sought to hide: the unsettling truth of Christ’s death and the call to imitate his sacrifice. Paul understood that the message of the Cross was not an attractive one...He explained, “So when we preach that Christ was crucified, the Jews are offended, and the Greeks say it’s all nonsense (I Corinthians 1:23). Yet Paul told the whole truth about Christ, even at the risk of having his message rejected as foolishness. (Roberts, Dare to Be True: Living in the Freedom of Complete Honesty, 35)

Jerome Murphy-O’Connor (b. 1935) defends:

No orator, even the most skillful, could devise arguments to make a crucified Savior either intelligible or palatable. Such arguments have to be rooted in commonly accepted values. Both Jews and Gentiles, however, agreed that the idea was “scandal” and “folly” (I Corinthians 1:23). This consensus condemned any attempt to present a crucified Christ in a favorable light. Thus, there was an inherent contradiction between rhetoric and the Pauline gospel. The former manifested “the wisdom of the world,” whereas the latter was the product of the “wisdom of God.” The gospel could be made rational only by suppressing its most distinctive feature, the crucifixion of Jesus. The insidious danger at Corinth was that those who wished to give the gospel an attractive rhetorical presentation did not have to deny the crucifixion formally. All they had to do was to pass over it in silence. It sufficed to stress “the Lord of Glory” (I Corinthians 2:8) and to make no mention of crucifixion. (Elizabeth A. Dreyer [b. 1945], “Crucifixion in the Pauline Letters”, The Cross in Christian Tradition: From Paul to Bonaventure [1221-1274], 39)

Thankfully, Paul resists the temptation to give his audience what they want. Richard B. Hays (b. 1948) reflects:

Paul’s language throughout this section [I Corinthians 1:18-25] revels in the paradoxical twists of God’s grace. This is not, however, just a Pauline rhetorical tour de force. The fundamental theological point is that if the cross itself is God’s saving event, all human standards of evaluation are overturned. This outlandish message confounds Jews and Greeks alike, who quite understandably seek evidence of a more credible sort, either empirical demonstrations of power (“signs”) or rationally persuasive argumentation (“wisdom”). But the apostle offers neither. Instead, “we proclaim Christ crucified” (I Corinthians 1:23). (Hayes, First Corinthians (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching & Preaching), 30)

This message is still relevant as most people today would prefer a conquering Messiah who fixes all of their problems to a crucified Christ. As such, addressing the cross is crucial for the contemporary church.

The Christian belief in a crucified Christ has always been nothing less than radical. Craig G. Bartholomew (b. 1961) and Michael W. Goheen (b. 1955) observe:

The New Testament is unique in ancient literature in interpreting the crucifixion in a positive way, as the greatest of God’s actions in history. Paul proclaims that “the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (I Corinthians 1:18). But he and the other New Testament writers are entirely aware that their view of this event attracts scorn. To the Romans, the cross is utter foolishness, crucifixion is merely the worst of the punishments routinely meted out to Rome’s enemies. They are humiliated, defeated, tortured beyond human endurance, exposed in their weakness—and then they die. Beyond that, the cross is a random act of cruelty...Yet the early church makes the bold and fantastic claim that the cross is the central act of God in all of human history! (Bartholomew and Goheen, Drama of Scripture, The: Finding Our Place in the Biblical Story, 163)

Daniel L. Migliore (b. 1935) professes:

The power of the triune God is omnipotent love. Christ crucified is the power of God unto salvation (I Corinthians 1:23-24). The love of God made known supremely in the cross of Christ has all the power necessary to accomplish the divine purpose of creating and redeeming the world and bringing it to its appointed goal. (Migliore, Faith Seeking Understanding: An Introduction to Christian Theology, Second Edition, 86)

The cross confronts human preconceptions of wisdom and strength (I Corinthians 1:25). It serves as a reminder that God’s ways are not our ways and things may not be quite as they seem.

Anthony C. Thiselton (b. 1937) relays:

To...both Jews and Greeks...whom God has called, the cross of Christ constitutes precisely the mode of action which conveys God’s power and God’s wisdom. It does not rest on human calculations about signs of the times, nor upon manipulative devices which entice belief, nor does it rest on self-defeating strategies to master life techniques by human wisdom. God’s manifestation of power and wisdom operates on a different basis, namely, the way of love which accepts the constraints imposed by the human condition or plight and the prior divine act of promise, and becomes effective and operative (has power) in God’s own way, for it corresponds with God’s own nature as revealed in Christ and in the cross. Any version of the gospel which substitutes a message of personal success for the cross is a manipulative counterfeit. Eberhard Jüngel [b. 1934] writes, “God defined himself as love on the cross of Jesus. If the cross, as the world’s turning point, is the foundation and measure of metaphorical language about God, then such language itself has the function of bringing about a turning around, or change of direction. God cannot be spoken of as if everything remained as it was.”...In this sense, God’s power and God’s wisdom do indeed become actualized in, through, and even as Christ: Christ, God’s power and God’s wisdom. But because the cross is a turning point and criterion which may reverse assumptions and values, we should be cautious about applying without very careful qualifications the everyday meanings, or even theological meanings, of power and wisdom as they occur in other texts. (Thiselton, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (New International Greek Testament Commentary), 172)

Ben Witherington III (b. 1951) agrees:

In contrast to both Jews and Gentiles, Paul preaches the paradoxical notion of a crucified God. This apparently powerless and foolish deity allowed himself to be killed by Romans — a scandal to Jews and foolishness to pagans. Yet this crucified messiah is both the wisdom and power of God for salvation for believers, so that salvation would not be the result of human effort or wisdom. Thus the foolishness of God outstrips human wisdom and the weakness of God exceeds human strength. (Witherington, Conflict and Community in Corinth: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on 1 and 2 Corinthians, 113)

The cross also has spiritual ramifications. K.K. Yeo (b. 1960) sees:

Paul wants to bring the Corinthian Christians to a higher spiritual awareness via the “crucified Christ” (I Corinthians 1:23, 2:2)—a “politics of metaphor” (Yung Suk Kim 2008). Robert E. Allinson [b. 1942] describes this phenomenon similarly for Zhuangzi as the “myth of deconstruction and reconstruction” for the sake of self-transformation (Allinson 2003; 1989). For example, in the first chapter of the Zhuangzi, there is “the myth of a fish that is deconstructed as a fish and reconstructed as a bird” (Burton Watson [b. 1925] 1968: 4). Paul preached only “Christ crucified’ to the Corinthian Christians, so that they would deconstruct the surrounding cultures’ ideals of power (Romans), religion (Jews), and wisdom/philosophy (Greeks). Through such self-deconstruction, they could then reconstruct holistic life found only in the “weakness” of God, “miracle-less” faith, and “foolish” understanding (I Corinthians 1-2). (Yung Suk Kim, “Pauline Theological Counseling of Love in the Language of the Zhuangzi”, 1 and 2 Corinthians (Texts@Contexts), 122)

The cross also has far reaching political implications. A crucified Christ represents the wisdom of another kingdom, one not found in any earthly political system (I Corinthians 1:25). Attempting to advance oneself with humans utilizes decidedly different methodologies than doing the same with God. In light of this, many interpreters have viewed the cross as subversive.

Joseph A. Fitzmyer (b. 1920) writes:

In effect, both Jew and Greek become adversaries of the crucified Christ. “The cross always remains scandal and foolishness for Jew and Gentile, inasmuch as it exposes man’s illusion that he can transcend himself and effect his own salvation, that can all by himself maintain his own strength, his own wisdom, how own piety, and his own self-praise even toward God” (Ernst Käsemann [1906-1998], “Saving Significance,” 40). There is more involved in this theology of Christ crucified, because Paul is going to use it to transcend all individualism and interpersonal disputes in order to make it the basis on which the Christians of Corinth should be building their unity, agreement, and community life itself (see Raymond Pickett [b. 1955], The Cross in Corinth 37-68). Mark T. Finney (“Christ Crucified”) goes so far as to maintain that Paul is seeking to undermine the imperial cult (emperor worship) among the Corinthians, at least among those who became Christians. (Fitzmyer, First Corinthians (Anchor Bible), 159-60)

P. Travis Kroeker (b. 1957) philosophizes:

Paul’s messianism will not accommodate conventional discourses of human mastery – which is to say, all conventional political discourses. In contrast to the Weberian “secularization thesis” (influenced by Friedrich Nietzsche [1844-1900]) that interprets Paul’s apocalyptic messianism as one of indifference to worldly conditions, recent continental thinkers such as Alain Badiou [b. 1937], Stanislas Breton [1912-2005], Jacob Taubes [1923-1987], and Giorgio Agamben [b. 1942] interpret it as radically political, a challenge to the politics of conventional human and especially national sovereignty. (Stephen Westerholm [b. 1949], The Blackwell Companion to Paul, 441-42)

Yung Suk Kim assents:

Paul utterly identifies with Christ crucified (I Corinthians 1:23, 2:2), which is God’s power and wisdom that deconstructs the Corinthian power and wisdom based on a certain knowledge or spiritual gifts. Christ’s body imagined through Christ crucified gives hope to the weak and marginalized in the community, even in the midst of their liminal, marginal experience—just as Christ necessarily did. Christ crucified is a symbol and the power of God reaching out to the downtrodden, the dregs of the world. In short, accounting for the crucified body as a dimension of the “body of Christ” provides us with a vision of the “body of Christ” in radical association with the broken bodies in the world. (Kim, Christ’s Body in Corinth: The Politics of a Metaphor, 31)

The cross bleeds over into all aspects of the Christian life. It is necessary; Christianity cannot be Christianity without the cross. Hence this scandalous foolishness becomes the central message. The crucified Christ becomes the answer to all seekers and questioners, whether they seek signs or wisdom.

If you had to reduce your belief system to two words, what would they be? What is your favorite oxymoron? Is Paul incorporating synthetic parallelism; are scandal and foolish to be viewed on the same plane? What are contemporary impediments to the gospel? What other times has God acted foolishly by human standards? Is thinking logically and/or having an education a deterrent to accepting the gospel (I Corinthians 1:26)? What are the modern equivalents to the objections posed by these New Testament Jews and Gentiles (I Corinthians 1:23)? In what ways did Jesus meet the expectations of the Greeks and Jews? In any way did he exceed them? When has God fulfilled your needs but not given you what you wanted or expected? For you, what is the least attractive tenet of Christianity? Does the resurrection cause you to stumble?

Paul’s original readers would have been well aware and in full agreement that outsiders struggled with the cross. It was likely a matter with which they were often confronted. Paul, however, is not writing to lecture about outsiders. He is addressing insiders, specifically errant Christians. In building up his opposition, Paul unites his core. Sociologist Georg Simmel (1858-1918) argued that nothing unites a group more than a common enemy (Simmel, “The Sociology of Conflict: I” American Journal of Sociology 9 (1903): 490-525). But in returning to the cross, Paul is doing far more than unifying his congregation against bolstered competition.

Throughout the epistle, Paul confronts incongruities which have fragmented the church in Corinth (I Corinthians 1:11-13). The apostle’s consistent focus on the cross undercuts elitist perspectives and promotes unity. Paul uses the reminder of the crucifixion to ground the Corinthian congregation.

Though he is prone to do so, the apostle has not gone off on a tangent. Kenneth L. Chafin (1926-2001) refocuses:

There are times when Paul seems to interrupt himself to explore a different subject before coming back to his original line of thought. A casual reading of I Corinthians 1:18-25 might lead us to think that Paul had picked up on his own mentioning of the gospel and is now turning aside from his discussion of divisions to pursue that subject. Rather, he is launching his criticisms by insisting that the party spirit in the church is caused by false wisdom, human pride, and by loyalty to human leaders. It is not the gospel he has preached that has brought division. The word of the Cross that he had preached was the source of true wisdom and unity. Consequently, the divisions within the church must have come from that worldly wisdom which cannot accept the preaching of the Cross. (Chafin, 1, 2 Corinthians (Mastering the New Testament, 37-38)

Pheme Perkins (b. 1945) teaches:

The gospel of Christ crucified shapes Paul’s response to many of the practical problems addressed in the letter (Dieter Zeller [b. 1939] 2010, 64-66). The apostle has shaped his life in response to the call received from God. His responsibility for the churches reflects that relationship with God. (Perkins, First Corinthians (Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament), 44)

Alexandra R. Brown (b. 1955) writes of this power of the cross in her book The Cross and Human Transformation: Paul’s Apocalyptic Word in 1 Corinthians. James L. Jaquette (b. 1954) reviews:

In our time the cross is often more a source of controversy than a sign of peace. While aware of differing points of view, Alexandra Brown shows that Paul’s proclamation of the cross was an inclusive and empowering word of liberation, peace, and reconciliation. (Brown, The Cross and Human Transformation: Paul’s Apocalyptic Word in 1 Corinthians, back cover)

There is great power in the cross. It serves as a constant reminder that it is not about us. Not the least of its power is its bent to unite believers at its foot. The cross is a meeting place for foolish people. And fools ought stick together.

Should more emphasis be placed on the scandal of the cross? If this aspect was stressed would Christians be more unified? Have you ever attended a divided church? What issues are worth splitting a church? Is Christ bigger than our differences?

“God allows himself to be edged out of the world and onto the cross. God is weak and powerless in the world, and that is exactly the way, the only way, in which he can be with us and help us.” - Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945), Reflections On The Bible: Human Word And Word Of God, p. 96