The Pastoral Epistles, by George W. Knight III

Every once in a while, I like to write about a book that I've read thoroughly, one that I can recommend to others (or warn them about). I've recently gone back through The Pastoral Epistles, by George W. Knight III (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1992). Here's an updated version of something I wrote not long after Knight's work first came out: . . .

Over the last ten years or so, students of 1 and 2 Timothy and Titus have been given several nice gifts, among them a full-scale commentary by William D. Mounce in the Word series, a similar work by Luke Timothy Johnson (but which does not include Titus) in the Anchor Bible, not to mention Ben Witherington's Letters and Homilies for Hellenized Christians, Volume 1: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on Titus, 1-2 Timothy and 1-3 John.

These latest works go a long way toward supplementing other fine books on the Pastorals like the ones by J.N.D. Kelly, Donald Guthrie, Gordon D. Fee and, of course, John Calvin.

Next on the horizon is Abraham J. Malherbe's long-awaited commentary in the Hermeneia series. While we wait for that one, another fairly-recent and very helpful treatment of the Greek text should not be overlooked: George W. Knight's The Pastoral Epistles in the New International Greek Testament Commentary series, edited by I. Howard Marshall and W. Ward Gasque.

Given the modern history of studies in the Pastorals, it comes as no surprise that the 50-page introduction focuses on the question of authorship. Knight, acknowledging the help of Donald Guthrie, fends off the arguments against Pauline authorship and upholds the traditional position. Knight argues that Paul wrote 1 Timothy and Titus during the time between his two Roman imprisonments (i.e., during the early-to-mid 60s). He wrote 2 Timothy during the second Roman imprisonment (as early as 64 and as late at 67). He was martyred in Rome around that same time.

In defending this reconstruction, Knight deals with the alleged and real differences in vocabulary, style, ecclesiology, and theology between the Pastorals and other letters ascribed to Paul. In dealing with the revived suggestion that Luke wrote these letters, Knight accepts no more than the possibility that Luke served as Paul's amanuensis.

In the commentary proper, Knight briefly introduces each section and then seriously engages the Greek text verse by verse, treating phrases and individual words. He discusses significant textual questions, carries on a conversation with the immediate and broader biblical contexts, and responds to both ancient and modern secondary literature. Instead of asserting a determined position, he discusses every exegetical alternative with thoroughness. For example, more than a page is taken up discussing whether the Greek term kyrios in 1 Tim 1:14 refers to the Father or to the Son.

In two excursuses Knight crosses the line that traditionally divides exegesis from hermeneutics. In the first, "Bishops/Presbyters and Deacons," he builds a strong case that churches of the New Testament era typically recognized the two classes of leaders (1 Tim. 3:1-13; Phil. 1:1). Indeed, sounding much like a member of the Churches of Christ, the author says that a plurality of bishops and deacons serving a congregation is the New Testament "pattern."

In the second excursus, "Motivations for Appropriate Conduct," he argues that in Titus 2:1-10 Paul insisted upon such standards not merely because their violation would be offensive to outsiders and thus hurtful to the reputation of the gospel, but also because those standards square with healthy teaching, are intrinsically right, and were recognized by many first-century Cretans as such. In taking this stance Knight rejects the view that some of the regulations (notably, the wife's submission to her husband) are purely cultural and should not be bound in more egalitarian societies like ours. (For an overview of Knight's argument on the wider question, see his article, "The Role of Women in the Church"). He also rejects the notion that the high ethical standards of Pauline Christianity and the culturally accepted norms of the Pastorals do not match. Citing the ideal of citizenship in Romans 13 and the popular ethics of 1 and 2 Thessalonians, the author denies any sort of tension between "the real Paul" and the author of the Pastorals. Furthermore, the Pastorals do not uniquely represent an "early catholicism" that upheld a sort of pedestrian, middle-class morality.

As expected, readers will find in this work any number of likes and dislikes. In my opinion, the best aspect of this commentary is its exegetical detail on the Greek text. Knight also does a better job of drawing the reader into the text than do, say, Dibelius and Conzelmann (although their commentary remains a gold mine of historical and literary parallels).

I think that the primary flaw of Knight's commentary is that its linguistic focus is so intense, other contours of the biblical text are frequently ignored. For example, on 1 Tim. 5:23 ("No longer drink water exclusively, but use a little wine for the sake of your stomach and frequent ailments"), he says nothing of wine drinking in the Greco-Roman world, nor does he respond to the common suggestion that this verse gives us a glimpse into how the ascetic demands of the false teachers at Ephesus were affecting timid Timothy. Though shorter commentaries might ignore such questions, one expects a full-length work to treat them. A second criticism is that the historical notes, as well as the reported positions of other scholars, sometimes lack precision.

These quibbles aside, Knight's commentary is a significant contribution to New Testament study. An excellent supplement and balance to more liberal works like Dibelius-Conzelmann, this work will be a help to professors and other students of the Greek text. And for preachers whose Greek is serviceable, this guide is arguably the one to turn to first after working through the text itself.

John Calvin (1509-2009)

July 10th of this year will mark the 500th anniversary of the birth of John Calvin. It's safe to say that he changed the world.

During my undergraduate days, most everything I heard about Calvin was negative. After all, someone named Calvinism after him. And that was bad. One of my classmates was required to read part of his Institutes of the Christian Religion. My assumption was that the assignment was for the purpose of figuring out all the places where Calvin went wrong.

A few years later, when I was a graduate student, I noticed that biblical scholar Brevard Childs rarely missed an opportunity to make some glowing statement about Calvin's commentaries. I wondered how someone I respected so much could say such great things about John Calvin.

My interest at the time was the so-called Pastoral Epistles: 1 and 2 Timothy, and Titus. So I started working through an English translation of Calvin's commentary of that part of the New Testament.

Wow! What I discovered in that commentary was nothing short of marvelous. Not only did Calvin offer many great observations about the text, he did something else that modern commentators avoided: He "preached." His comments were at once studious and unabashedly theological. He didn't seem to understand the modern rule that biblical scholars weren't supposed to be preachers as well. To Calvin, one thing naturally lead to the next. I loved it and wished that today's Bible scholars were a little more like him, eager to say something about God in the midst of their serious studies.

Oh, sure. There were parts of Calvin that I didn't like so much. For instance, he sometimes went out of his way to take shots at "the Papists." But those places were easy to overlook when there was so much rich material all around them.

It's been a long time, too long, since I read much of John Calvin. I still reject his predestinarian ideas and wish that they didn't have so much influence. (If you haven't noticed, Calvinism is very popular among twenty-somethings today). But the depth and the warmth of his commentaries cannot be denied. I think I'll revisit some of them this year.

How about you? Ever read much from (as opposed to about) Calvin? What did you think?

Paul: The Silent Years

Have you ever explored the "silent" or "unknown" years of Paul the Apostle? Most people remember three things about Paul:

1. Before he became an Apostle of Jesus Christ, Saul--his Jewish name--was a persecutor of Christianity.

2. But, while Saul was going to Damascus to arrest Christians and bring them back to Jerusalem as prisoners, he was confronted by the exalted Jesus Christ.

3. Later, he went on three long mission trips, traveling around the Mediterranean world, preaching the gospel and planting churches. Eventually, he was taken to Rome because he had appealed his case to Caesar.

But what happened during the ten years or more in between events 2 and 3? . . . (I'm currently teaching the "Life of Paul' class. Can you tell?)

By comparing Acts 9:1-31 with Galatians 1:11-24, we can piece together a rough outline of those years. Here's what it looks like:

1. Following his baptism, Paul preached the gospel in the synagogues of Damascus. He taught and proved that Jesus is the Son of God (Acts 9:20-22).

2. Next, Paul traveled to Arabia (Gal. 1:17). Exactly what he means by Arabia has been debated. There's also a question of how long he was there and what he was doing then.

3. He returned to Damascus (Gal. 1:17). Once again, he proclaimed the gospel there, which aggravated the unbelieving Jews to the point that they conspired to kill him (Acts 9:23). In another of his letters, Paul reflects on that event: In Damascus the governor under King Aretas had the city of the Damascenes guarded in order to arrest me. But I was lowered in a basket from a window in the wall and slipped through his hands (2 Cor. 11:32-33). Paul's reference to King Aretas provides a clue (although debated) about when this must have happened. Luke seems to indicate Paul's charisma and effectiveness when he says that the Apostle was lowered through the opening in the wall by his disciples or followers (Acts 9:25).

4. From Damascus, Paul went to Jerusalem (Acts 9:26; Gal. 1:18), where he stayed for at least fifteen days and became acquainted with Peter and also with James, the brother of the Lord (Gal. 1:18-19). During this time Paul attempted to convert Hellenistic, Greek-ish Jews. But they also tried to kill him (Acts 9:29).

5. This led the Christians in Jerusalem to insist that Paul leave the city before he was murdered (like Stephen): [T]hey took him down to Caesarea, a seaport, and sent him off to Tarsus, his hometown (Acts 9:30). The information from Acts matches up with Paul's own statement that, after Jerusalem, he went to Syria and Cilicia (Gal. 1:21). Tarsus was located in Cilicia. Often the two provinces Paul speaks of are mentioned together and are regarded as one.

This is where the picture starts to get hazy. Quite a bit of time passes before Barnabas, dispatched by the Jerusalem church, sees the great work going on among Jews and Gentiles in Syrian Antioch and goes to Tarsus in order to find Paul and bring him back to Antioch (Acts 11:19-26). What was Paul doing all of that time he spent in Syria and Cilicia (Gal. 1:21)?

An answer to that question must take into account that, during the first few years after his call and commission, Paul was an energetic and successful Christian evangelist. So, during the silent years did Paul preach and teach the gospel in Tarsus and in other parts of Syria-Cilicia? It would seem very strange if he didn't.

Are there any clues that Paul, in fact, evangelized Syria-Cilicia with a good bit of success? It seems so. It might be significant that when the leaders of the so-called Council at Jerusalem issued the decision letter, they addressed it to the Gentile believers in Antioch, Syria and Cilicia (Acts 15:23). The story of Antioch we know well. But when had Gentiles been baptized in Syria and Cilicia? It wasn't during the mission trip taken by Paul and Barnabas ("the first missionary journey"). According to Acts 13 and 14, that trip took the missionaries to Cyprus and to the regions called Pamphylia, Psidia, and Lyconia, but not to the region in question.

Furthermore, after Paul chose Silas as his partner for the second missionary journey, he went through Syria and Cilicia, strengthening the churches (Acts 15:41). That Luke mentions Paul doing this, while seeming to leave out Silas, may indicated that these particular churches knew the Apostle but not his traveling companion. Note that later in the chapter, Luke describes what they-- meaning Paul, Silas, and Timothy--did (Acts 16:7).

Of course, it is entirely possible that the churches in Syria-Cilicia were planted in much the same way that the church(es) in other areas were: Now those who had been scattered by the persecution in connection with Stephen traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus and Antioch, telling the message only to Jews. Some of them, however, men from Cyprus and Cyrene, went to Antioch and began to speak to Greeks also, telling them the good news about the Lord Jesus. The Lord's hand was with them, and a great number of people believed and turned to the Lord (Acts 11:19-21).

However, it might have been that Paul himself was largely responsible for the planting of the Christian communities north of Antioch. If so, that may help to explain 2 Corinthians 11, where included in Paul's boasting about his hardships we read, Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one (verses 24-25). None of the Apostle's synagogue whippings are mentioned by Luke in the Book of Acts. It could very well be that those sad events date to Paul's time in Syria-Cilicia.

Now, what are some of your observations about this period in the life of Paul? What other texts or information might add a piece to the puzzle?

Note: Naturally, books dealing with the life and letters of Paul take up this question, if briefly. See, for example, F. F. Bruce, Paul: Apostle of the Heart Set Free, pp. 126-28. At least one book-length treatment has been written, Paul Between Damascus and Antioch: The Unknown Years, by Martin Hengel and Anna Maria Schwemer. I'd be interested to hear of some of the better things others have come across.

1 Weekend, 478 Baptisms. Really.

I 'm told that the following story was recently posted on the Christian Standard website:

Christ's Church of the Valley (San Dimas, CA) celebrated 478 baptisms during services this past weekend. You read that right!

Dane Johnson, associate pastor, shares the story: "With no prior notice to the congregation, Jeff (Vines, CCV's senior pastor) presented a very clear gospel message of God's grace and our need for obedient response.

Over six services, we baptized 478 adults (in their street clothes). You should have seen the looks on people's faces who were coming in from the parking lot, having encountered people leaving church in soaking clothes!

"Many of those baptized were making first-time decisions for Christ, while some were convicted to follow Christ's example of water baptism. It was an AMAZING sight, with three baptismal pools going non-stop for 40 minutes of every service. In a couple of the services, Jeff had to stand and tell people, 'Look, we're going to continue baptizing until we're done, but the rest of you are going to have to leave so the people coming in for the next service can have parking spaces and seats! You've gotta go now!'

"To put this in perspective, our adult attendance for the entire weekend was around 3,200, so about 15% of those in attendance were baptized. (We cleared out the towel and T-shirt section of Target over the weekend-twice!) We are hearing amazing stories of life change through the moving of the Holy Spirit. A couple in Holland were watching live streaming video of the service and contacted us about being baptized!

"Please join us in praising God for this powerful moving of his Spirit!"

For some video of this event see the CCV homepage.

500 Fewer Congregations of the Churches of Christ

A few weeks ago on a Saturday morning, I sat at the kitchen table scanning the obituaries in our local paper, the Amarillo Globe-News.

"I want to know what happened to them," I said.

"Who?" said my wife.

"All these people who just died. I mean, I don't want to be crass or voyeuristic or whatever. I just want to know how they died. Especially the young ones."

"I know what you mean," she said. "They never give the cause of death."

I had that same sort of feeling last week when I read for the second time that story in the Christian Chronicle, the one that reports the recent decline of Churches of Christ in America.

So many things come to mind. Most of them have been batted around the blogosphere over the last few weeks. Here's the part that I can't get out of my head: Apparently, over the last six years, Churches of Christ have lost over 500 congregations. Five hundred. That's more than one congregation a week closing its doors. I have a lot of questions about that. Don't you?

How did they die? Why did that happen? Where did the people who were still there go? Churches don't just disappear.

Of course, members of a now-closed congregation either became a part of another Church of Christ, or joined up with some other group, or dropped out altogether. That's something I wonder about too. What are the percentages for each category? Where did those people go?

Some of the churches that died had a lone preacher, presumably doing what he could to sow the seed of the kingdom and help others grow in the likeness of Christ. Where did he and his family go?

Some of the congregations that closed owned real estate and cash. What happened to that?

The more I thought about those questions, the more I remembered some of the stories from my past. During my years in New England, there were a handful of small, struggling churches that just couldn't hang on and eventually closed their doors.

One of them, a congregation in suburban Connecticut that had been around for several years, had come to depend heavily on one man. When he suddenly died, the church was at a loss. They closed up not long afterward. The church owned a building, which was sold. Over the next couple of years, the congregation where I preached received in the mail a few sizable, anonymous donations. I always figured that the money came from the proceeds from the sale of that building. But I wasn't sure.

Another church had been started by a group of young, bright, energetic Christians. They had worked for years, establishing an outpost for the kingdom of Christ. One of their leaders, a young man, tragically died. The group kept at it until many years later the congregation finally closed.

In the church closings I know of, the majority of the members went to one particular congregation of the Church of Christ because of convenience (it was the next nearest congregation), because of a studied consensus (that's where people from our group would fit in best), or because of some combination of those and other factors.

We should expect that congregations will die. One of the many things I learned from Evertt Huffard is that, unlike the kingdom of Christ, congregations are like people. They are born, they grow and reach a certain size and maturity. Sometimes they give birth to one or more congregations. But invariably, they get old, start to shrink, and finally die. I still wonder about the closing of more than 500 congregations in six years. Why did this Christian group I love so much lose so many churches in such a short time?

Turning to the future side of my question, if the cutting edge of the kingdom is the local congregation (a Phil Slate-ism), and if Churches of Christ want to do better than we have of late, wouldn't one of our main concerns be the planting of more new congregations?

Yes, as well as exciting, that sounds kind of scary. And it's got to be a lot of hard work. And, no, not every newly-planted church survives. But I believe that any emphasis designed to help us become more faithful and effective will include the intention to plant more, viable new congregations in places where there are lots of people.

That's what I'm thinking about today. What do you think?

1. Have you been a part of a congregation that made the decision to close? How did it come to that?

2. Have you been a part of a new church planting? What's that like? What are the ups and downs, the dos and don'ts of that process?

3. What are some of the church-planting bright spots among Churches of Christ today?

4. What does it take to adequately shape and train successful church planters? Who's doing an especially good job of that these days?

John Updike, 1932-2009

John Updike, one of the truly great authors of the last few decades, died yesterday at age 76. He had been battling cancer and passed away at a hospice near his home in Beverly Farms, Massachusetts.

I'm no literature professor. Truth be told, I haven't read much fiction in my time. But I still think Updike must have been one of the best ever. Whenever I read something he wrote, here and there it seems like Updike the virtuoso is self-consciously showing off with a smirk on his face. And I don't mind. He's that good.

Not only that, he often takes up theological themes. The few novels and shorts stories that I've read make me think that Updike was convinced of what C.S. Lewis called "mere Christianity": basic, historic orthodoxy. It's no secret that he was influenced by the writings of Karl Barth. To read more about Updike's theology, check out the fine post over at Ben Myers' blog.

Have you read any of his stuff? What did you think? Any favorites?

Introducing Buddhism by Kenneth Scott Latourette

Of the courses I teach, the biggest challenge is "Introduction to World Religions." I don't know too many Buddhists; never been to a Hindu temple; and find myself confused by the many facets of historic and modern Judaism.

So, one of my commitments for 2009 is to do much more reading in the primary and secondary sources for these and other religious traditions that I hardly know. And, I'm trying to record what I learn. Here's a quick review of something I read this week:

Latourette, Kenneth Scott. Introducing Buddhism. New York: Friendship Press, 1956.

This is a booklet (64 pages) that briefly describes the origins, history and worldview of Buddhism. Latourette, one of the best-known American historians of Christianity, earned the Ph.D. from Yale in 1909 and taught at Yale College of China (yes, there was one) from 1910-1912. Beginning in 1921 and for many more years, he taught at Yale (in the US). By the time he wrote "Introducing Buddhism," Latourette was retired.

The first ten pages, "Beginnings of a Faith," provide a very good introduction to the origins and teachings of Buddhism. The second section, "Influences in the Changing Pattern," describe the early history and expansion of Buddhism in the centuries just after the death of its founder, Siddhartha Gautama.

As he continues, Latourette, a Baptist and longtime Sunday-school teacher, emphasizes (1) that Buddhism tends to flourish in undeveloped, unsophisticated societies, (2) that Buddhism has experienced decline in many areas where it was once much stronger (3) that there are irreconcilable differences between Buddhism and Christianity, and that (4) Christianity is superior in its effects and measurable contributions to a society.

Because the world has changed so much in the last 50-plus years, Latourette's descriptions of history are out-of-date. And, it's safe to say that he would be surprised and dismayed at the growth of Buddhism in the United States over the last few decades. I have no good way of evaluating his negative view of why Buddhism grows.

Ever Ride a Silly Bus?

"Are you into a bus ministry?"

That's what John Willis asked as he handed me the "silly bus" for a graduate course I was auditing with him. That was many years ago. But to this day, I've had a hard time not hearing "silly bus" whenever someone says "syllabus." And now I'm a college teacher.

Anyway, because classes begin next week (college breaks are the best), I'm working to finalize the syllabi that I'll be handing out then.

Here's something that experience has taught me and that I've now learned: first-and-second-year students have a hard time figuring out a subject for a term paper. And, once they've settled on a topic, it's almost always way too broad, something that you could write about for volumes, but not a few pages.

Then, last semester, I learned something else. One of my students mildly complained that she just couldn't figure out a topic for her paper in my Old Testament class. I asked her if she wanted me to end the agony and assign something to her. With relief in her eyes, she said, "Yes." So I told her I wanted a paper on Genesis 6:1-4, that interesting passage about the sons of God and daughters of men and the Nephilim and all that. Several weeks later, she turned in the best paper in the bunch. At that point, I remembered that many of the best things I've ever written were prompted by an assignment.

So, my new commitment is to provide a good list of topics for all the classes in which I require a paper. I've already started a list for (a) New Testament, (b) Life of Paul, and (c) World Religions. I won't list everything that I've come up with so far. Here are a couple of examples for each course:

New Testament

1. Of the three Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke) choose one and then discuss some of the writer's main interests and points of emphasis.
2. How does John 1:1-18 serve as a prologue for this Gospel?

Life of Paul

1. Who are Paul's opponents in 2nd Corinthians? In the letter, how does Paul go about winning back the congregation to his thought and way of leading?
2. Discuss either 1 Corinthians 11:2-16 and 14:34-35, or 1 Timothy 2:9-15 and how they inform current discussions of "women's role in the church."

World Religions

1. What is the Quranic view of Mary the mother of Jesus?
2. What is a Bodhisattva? With regard to Bodhisattavas, what are the differences between Mahayana and Theravada Buddhism?

Now, here's my question for you. Under any or all of those headings, what paper topics would you add? (These are first-and-second-year courses in which I require a 5-6 page paper). Thanks for your suggestions.

Richard John Neuhaus, 1936-2009

I first heard the name Richard John Neuhaus when he made quite a splash with his 1984 book The Naked Public Square: Religion and Democracy in America. Years later, I read parts of that book, not always sure if I agreed, but always impressed at how Neuhaus wrote with such clarity and conviction.

A theological and social conservative who had marched with Martin Luther King, Jr., Neuhaus struck you as the kind of person who had thought long and hard about what he believed and why. His powers of expression often made me think of the late William F. Buckley, Jr.

So I was sad to find out last week that Neuhaus died on Thursday, January 8th at the age of 72. He had been struggling with cancer.

In 1990, Neuhaus founded First Things, a religiously-informed and socially-conservative journal of the highest quality. Since then, he and his cohort of writers have written some of the finest reflections on culture, politics and religion published anywhere.

So far, obituaries and tributes have appeared in the New York Times , the Wall Street Journal, and in dozens of other places.

Neuhaus followed an interesting religious course. He started out in the conservative Missouri Synod of the Lutheran Church. Later, he was affiliated with the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America before converting to Catholicism and becoming a priest.

He was always keenly aware of his position as both a follower of Christ and an American citizen. Here's what he wrote in one of his many fantastic essays, "Our American Babylon":

Thought that is real and not merely, as Cardinal John Henry Newman put it, "notional," is thought that is sympathetically situated in time and place. The Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that Christians have here no abiding city. In the third eucharistic prayer of the Mass we pray, "Strengthen in faith and love your pilgrim Church on earth." We Christians are a pilgrim people, a people on the way, exiles from our true home, aliens in a strange land. There is in all the Christian tradition no more compelling depiction of our circumstance than Saint Augustine's City of God. Short of the final coming of the Kingdom, the City of God and the earthly city are intermingled. We are to make use of, pray for, and do our share for the earthly city. Here Augustine cites the words of Jeremiah urging the people not to fear exile in Babylon: "Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its peace you will find your peace."

Help! Upcoming Interview

One of the great old men in the congregation I attend is a veteran of World War II. Fact is, we have several WW II vets at San Jacinto. But there's something unique about this one man: he was a part of the D-Day invasion of Normandy. He's never seen "Saving Private Ryan." Doesn't seem too interested.

Anyway, I asked him if I might interview him about his experiences and memories. He said yes. I haven't done many interviews. And I really don't know that much about the Second World War. I'd appreciate any help you can give me. Here are some of my questions:

1. What are the best ways to begin an interview?

2. Can you tell me something I especially need to know (or read) getting ready for this interview?

3. If you could ask my subject a question, what would it be?

Thanks for any help you can give me.

The Wine of the Passover and Lord's Supper

Most Christians realize that when Jesus began what came to be known as the Lord's Supper, the context was the Passover Feast. By that point in Jewish history, the cup of the Passover was likely four cups of wine (the number found in the Mishnah) interspersed throughout the meal. This helps to explain why it is that in Luke's account there are actually two cups, one on either side of the bread.

In the Mishnah, the four cups are specifically called "wine." And what was the character of this drink? It was wine mixed with water: When they have mixed the first cup of wine-- . . . . They mixed for him a second cup of wine. . . . They mixed the third cup for him (m. Pesachim 10:2-7).

The earliest specific references to these mixtures has a ratio of two parts water and one part wine (m. Niddah 2:7). Later, in the Talmud, the ratio is three to one (b. Erubim 54a and b. Nedarim 55a). The mixing of wine with water was evidently an early practice in Judaism as well as among the Greeks. For example, Song of Songs 7:2 speaks of "mingled" or "blended" wine, which is clearly thought of as being good. See for yourself.

When it came to "wine" or "the fruit of the vine," early Christian practice mirrored that of Judaism. For example, in that famous passage in Justin Martyr's First Apology which describes Christian worship, the elements of the Lord's Supper are bread and "wine mixed with water" (Apology I, 65). Similar passages are found in the writings of Hippolytus, Irenaeus, and Cyprian.

Someone might ask, But if the ancients used the term "wine" to refer to the wine-and-water mixture, then why does Justin mention both wine and water? Probably because he wanted to protect the church from the pagan accusation that Christians were drinking their wine straight, unmixed.

By way of summary, the wine of the ancient world and what we call "wine" are not the same things. Do both contain alcohol? Yes. But who today mixes wine with a larger amount of water? Or any water at all?

Were there people in the ancient world who got drunk on wine that was unmixed or only slightly diluted? Of course there were. But again, even the average pagan considered such practice to be pretty low. The only wine fit to drink had been mixed with a large amount of water, which was the universal practice.

When Wine Really Wasn't "Wine"

A current discussion over at Bobby Valentine's blog reveals a common gap in our thinking about wine, the ancient world, and the Bible. The posts and comments rightly criticize the tired, old argument that the wine mentioned in the Bible was unfermented grape juice, the Welch's of the ancient world.

However, what isn't mentioned is the fact that what the ancients called "wine" was actually wine mixed with a large amount of water. Therefore, to say that Jesus in John 2 turned water into wine is not the same thing as saying that Jesus turned water into something like Pinot Grigio. Consider:

"We call a mixture 'wine' although the larger part of the component parts is water"(Plutarch, Advice to Bride and Groom 20 in Moralia 140f).

The literature of the ancient world is filled with specific examples of mixing many parts water with a few parts wine. For example, in the Odyssey, Homer mentions a ratio of 20 parts water to 1 part wine (see 9.208f). Pliny the Elder speaks of an 8 to 1 mixture (Natural History, 14.6.54). Most writers have it a little stronger, but still very diluted. For example, in The Nurse, Athanaeus of Naucratis has the following conversation:

"A: Look, here is wine. Shall I pour a Triton [three parts water to one part wine]?

B. No, it's much better as one and four.

A. Too watery, that! However, drink it up and tell me the news; let's have some conversation while we drink" (see Deipnosophists 10.426c).

Because "wine" really meant "wine mixed with water," if a writer wanted to refer to undiluted wine, he was required to use some such adjective. For example:

"If the headache only came to us before we drink to intoxication, no one would ever indulge himself in wine immoderately. But as it is, foreseeing not that punishment for drunkenness will come, we readily give ourselves over to drinking unmixed cups" (Alexis, The Phrygian, in Deipnosophists, 10.429e, emphasis mine).

As in the previous quote, many writers warned against drinking unmixed wine:

"In daily intercourse, to those who drink it moderately, it gives good cheer; but if you overstep the bounds, it brings violence. Mix it half and half, and you get madness; unmixed, bodily collapse" (Athenaeus quoting Mnesitheus of Athens in Deipnosophists 2. 36a,b).

Quotes like these from the ancient world can be multiplied many times over. I cite these ones only to show that what we call wine and what the ancients called wine are two different things.

No, I'm not prepared to make the argument that the Bible demands total abstinence. What I am saying is that it is a category mistake for modern-day Christians to cite the biblical references to wine and then compare them to the products of Reunite and Beringer. The fact is, the average person in the New Testament era considered the drinking of unmixed wine a barbaric practice. That, I think, should give us caution.

For Further Reading:

Ferguson, Everett. "Wine as a Table-Drink in the Ancient World," in Restoration Quarterly 13 (Third Quarter 1970): pages 141-153. Like all of what Ferguson writes, this is a fine piece of work. The quotations in my post here are taken from this scholarly article.

Stein, Robert H. "Wine-Drinking in New Testament Times," in Christianity Today 19 (June 20, 1975): pages 9-11. Stein is another first-rate scholar. His article is written at the popular level, shorter and easier to get through than the one by Ferguson.