The Earliest Christian Confession?

The confession “Jesus is Lord” has been described as “the earliest Christian confession.”¹

One can scarcely be absolutely certain, however, that it is the earliest, since actual dating for the New Testament (NT) writings is unknown, and critically reasoned dates are the best that can be done. A second reason is that early Christianity was not a uniform movement but rather diverse. In the canonical texts we primarily are given the fourth-century orthodox view of the early Christian movements.

The confession, “Jesus is Lord,” has also been described as “primitive,”² suggesting that it might have emerged with the earliest followers of Jesus. Perhaps it is primitive, but even that cannot be confirmed on the basis of our extant materials. Nevertheless, it is true that this confession, bare of Christological dressing, is found in the letters of the earliest writer of NT literature, the Apostle Paul:

No one can say “Jesus is Lord” except by the Holy Spirit. (1 Cor 12:3)

If you confess that “Jesus is Lord” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. (Rom 10:9)

One can say that this confession is certainly less theologically advanced in the role it ascribes to Jesus, when compared to other very generous Christological epithets awarded Jesus elsewhere in the New Testament. “Jesus is Lord” is lacking many of these more generous claims for him. Instead, Jesus in this confession is simply “the Lord (ho kurios).” Other Christian confessions and creeds give him more extravagant epithets, for example: Jesus, the anointed (christos)[of God] (1 Cor 8:6); raised from the dead (Rom 10:9); the savior (2 Tim 1:10); equal with God (Phil 2:6); the agent of creation and human existence (1 Cor 8:6); Son of God (1 John 4:15); the image of the invisible God (Col 1:15); in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell (Col 1:19); the reconciler of all things (Col 1:20); the abolisher of death (2 Tim 1:10); the imprint of God’s very being (Heb 1:3); Jesus is God (John 20:28).³

            The confession, “Jesus is Lord,” is stripped of all such Christological glitter, and describes Jesus as Lord/Master. According to LSJ, the Greek word kurios (Lord), when used of people, has the meaning of “having power or authority over.”⁴ It can also be used of things. The term appears to have had a wide range of uses, such as being simply the head of a household or the leader of a nation, or an ancient Greek God.⁵ Thus, in itself, the word kurios does not necessarily carry the idea of deity, as is assumed by some.⁶ The expression kurios evoked political and common social concerns. Thus, the confession “Jesus is Lord” was understood to challenge “Caesar is Lord,” which the Romans demanded be confessed, probably as much for political reasons (Josephus, Jewish Wars, 7.418–419), as for religious reasons (Martyrdom of Polycarp, 8.2),⁷ since the Roman Senate had deified the emperor Augustus after his death, and temples and shrines were erected to honor his tutelary genius (spirit).⁸

            Nevertheless, it is important to note that the term Lord is the most prominent epithet for Jesus that appears in First Thessalonians, “the oldest document in the NT,”⁹ Paul’s earliest writing. In general, the letter reflects little in the way of high Christological epithets. Jesus is referred to as simply the Lord Jesus 6 times (2:15, 19. 3:11, 13; 4:1, 2); as the Lord 10 times (1:6, 8; 3:8, 12; 4:15, bis, 16, 17; 5:12, 26);¹⁰ and as simply Jesus, thrice (1:10; 4:14, bis). These titles are slightly elevated when the term christos (the Anointed) is used with the “plainer” epithets. Several times he is called the Lord Jesus Christ (1;1, 3;5:9, 23, 28) and as Christ Jesus (2:14; 5:18), or simply Christ (4:16).

The cross is not glorified in First Thessalonians. Jesus is simply “killed” by the “Judahites (2:15, usually translated “Jews”), but in some unexplained way his dying was “for us” (5:10). One clearly sees a difference when comparing certain of Paul’s statements about the cross and the death of Jesus in his later writings (Rom 3:24–25; 1 Cor 1:17–18, 23–24; 1 Cor 15:3–4; Gal 3:1,14; Gal 6:14; Phil 2:8). That what appears to be a primitive confession elsewhere in the NT (because it is stripped bare of generous Christological epithets), dominates in the oldest Christian writing increases the probability that it is the earliest confession of which we know.

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

¹Gordon D. Fee, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (New ICC Commentary; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 582.

²Fee, First Corinthians, 579.

³Compare the Nicene Creed, Henry Bettenson and Chris Maunder, Documents of the Christian Church 93^rd ed.; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 28-29.

⁴Henry George Liddell, Robert Scott, comp., A Greek-English Lexicon (revised and augmented by Henry Stuart Jones; Oxford: Clarendon, 1996).

⁵Werner Foerster, “κύριος,” pages 1039–1058 in Theological Dictionary of the New Testament (Gerhard Kittel, ed.; Geoffrey W. Bromiley, trans. and ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1965).

⁶Fee, First Corinthians, 581. Fee is likely correct that Paul would have seen the term kurios in his situation as meaning “absolute allegiance to” a divinity, but what meaning might it have had in its earliest use?

⁷Oscar Cullmann, The Earliest Christian Confessions (J. K. S Reid, trans.; Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2018), 28–29.

⁸Naphtali Lewis and Meyer Reinhold, eds., Roman Civilization, Selected Readings (2 vols.; 3^rd ed.; New York: Columbia, 1990). Volume 1: The Republic and the Augustinian Age, 620–640.

⁹Edgar Krentz, “Thessalonians, First and Second Epistles to the,” in the Anchor Bible Dictionary 6:515.

¹⁰1 Thessalonians 5:2 could refer to the Lord God and the end of the cosmos (2 Pet 3:10–13) or perhaps the day of the return of Jesus (1Cor 1:8).

What makes a Successful Life?

This essay is obviously an opinion piece, for success like beauty lies in the eye of the beholder. There is no universal idea for what constitutes a successful life. Judging what is successful depends on the standards one applies to evaluate the journey taken between birth and death and upon who applies the standards. The dictionary definition of success is this: “turning out to be as was hoped for.” Hence, the specifics of what constitutes a successful life change with time, historical context, individual communities holding to a given definition, and individuals whose lives are being evaluated. What follows is my personal view of success in life.

            A successful life will have had some sense of purpose, a conscious sense that living is worth the struggle. In a successful life a person will not just have lived willy-nilly, blown hither and yon, by the winds of time, but his or her life will have had a focused direction and goals, however dimly defined. And one’s life will have accomplished something of what was aimed-at, however insignificant the accomplishments might seem to others. Life would have been characterized for the most part (we are not perfect creatures) by integrity. Integrity is defined as “the quality or state of being of sound moral principle; uprightness, honesty, and sincerity.”¹ Such a life would have touched others in a positive way and included close friends and family (we are social creatures). Individuals who succeed in life will have learned to live with who they are (self-acceptance) but strived to be self-actualized (aiming to achieve full development of one’s abilities and ambitions). I would like to think that this description could fit either the undereducated farmer or the over-educated college professor.

I personally know of only one description in the Bible of a successful life (it is surely out of date for our times): Prov 31:10-29. In this passage the successful person is extolled as wife, mother, and spousal companion:

Many women have done excellently, but you surpass them all (Prov 31:29, RSV).

In Hebrew Bible the successful life was recognized in terms of its longevity (for example Methuselah, Gen 5:27; and Prov 3:1-2; 1 Kgs 3:10-14; Ps 61:6-7; Ps 91:14-16). The writers of the New Testament do not extol successful or prosperous (not necessarily financial) lives lived in the secular world. They only valued success in a life lived from a particular religious or spiritual perspective (3 John 2-4; 1 Cor 16:1-16; 2 Thess 1:3-4; 2 Tim 1:5-9). From the Bible’s perspective only the person who finds favor with God is truly successful in life.

            A successful life should not be judged on the basis of the extraordinary moments it contained but judged on one’s success in ordinary living. Most of us are ordinary folk and live ordinary lives. For example, being awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor is an extraordinary accomplishment, but the rest of what the CMH winner does is simply ordinary living. People will choose different paths in life for many reasons and make a success of living (or not) in the different paths they chose.

            When one’s end-time nears, if one can look back over the years and say: “I strived to do the best I could with what I had to work with,” then one can reasonably think of his or her life as successful.²

Charles W. Hedrick
Professor Emeritus
Missouri State University

¹The third definition in Webster’s New World College Dictionary (4^th ed., 2002), s.v. integrity.

²In this statement I forgive the intemperance of youth and its wasted opportunity.

Does John know the difference between History and Faith?

Does the flesh-and-blood author of the Gospel of John respect the difference between historical information and personal religious confession?  Or put another way: is the author aware when s/he shifts from historical description into a confession of faith?

 

            I am not proposing that we read John's mind.  The author of the gospel that readers know is a mental construct they develop in their own minds in response to reading the text.  I am asking if there are any literary features in the text, which suggest the flesh-and-blood author either was not aware of the crucial difference between historical information and confessional rhetoric, or that s/he did not regard the distinction as relevant.

 

            The answer, like everything in the history-of-Jesus research, depends on who you ask.  For example, the Jesus Seminar (JS) found that only one saying in John originated with Jesus (John 4:42).  With regard to the deeds of Jesus, the seminar only found a few features (in John 7:15; 18:12-13, 28; 19:1, 6, 18) that suggested a superficial knowledge of aspects of the historical career of Jesus.  That is a vastly different judgment from Craig S. Keener, for example, who argued that all four gospels are "historical biography" (The Gospel of John. A Commentary, Hendrickson, 2003, 33).

 

            From my perspective John's narrative frequently sacrifices history in the interest of confessional rhetoric.  For example, according to JS the cleansing of the temple in Mark 11:15-19 reflects, in part, aspects of an actual historical incident, but the JS found that the account of the same incident in John 2:13-22 was not grounded in history—in other words in John's narrative, theology trumps history.  Scholars generally think, however, that the cleansing of the temple was a historical event and Mark reported aspects of it in a more or less historical way.  Yet even the barest historical outlines of the incident are lost in John's religious rhetoric—at least according to the JS.

 

            Apparently John is more interested in right faith than in describing the career of Jesus from a historical perspective.  For example, John 1:1-18 is clearly a confessional statement.  The only bit of historical data in the section is the mention of John [the baptizer], the Judean prophet, whom the author of John co-opts as a Christian witness (1:6-8, 15), as also was the case in Matt 11:12-15, where he is not part of the Israelite old order, but part of the new (compare the parallel in Luke 16:16, where he is part of the old order).  John chapter one uses confessional language rather heavily (1:9-8, 15, 19, 20, 29, 32 34).

 

            The author interrupts the story about Jesus with confessional rhetoric in spite of the fact that it threatens the integrity of the narrative.  For example, in John 3:11 in the middle of the dialogue between Jesus and Nicodemus the author suddenly breaks into confessional rhetoric:  John 3:11 begins as a part of Jesus' comment to Nicodemus, but then shifts into an accusation against those who do not "receive our witness."

 

Truly, truly I say to you [singular; to Nicodemus] that we [the evangelist and his community] speak of what we know and you [plural; to his opponents] do not receive our witness (John 3:11).

 

In John 3:12 the evangelist assumes the persona of speaker to continue the criticism of his opponents: "If I (the evangelist) have told you (plural) earthly things, and you (plural) do not believe, how will you (plural) believe if I tell you (plural) heavenly things?"  Immediately following, John 3:13-21 (speaking of Jesus in third person) is spoken by the evangelist reciting the confession of the community.  At this point the engagement of Jesus and Nicodemus (3:1-10) has been completely forgotten.

 

            Once again in John 3:31-36 the evangelist shifts into confession leaving behind John's answer to his disciples about Jesus baptizing beyond the Jordan (John 3:25-30).  In these two incidents the evangelist overrides description with confession.

 

            Another similar incident is John 4:22-24.  The evangelist intersperses a community confession (4:22-24) between two dangling ends of the discussion between Jesus and the Samaritan woman (i.e., 4:21/25).  As s/he does at John 7:22 where the evangelist intrudes into a statement by Jesus in order to correct what Jesus said (this latter phenomenon is part of a much larger problem in the Gospel of John).

 

            Judging from these few incidents it appears that the flesh-and-blood author of John was more interested in confessional rhetoric than s/he was in historical description.

 

How does it seem to you?

 

Charles W, Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University

Down the Rabbit Hole: Pondering Confessions and Questions

           Religious beliefs help us to order our lives and our world.  They inform us about our place in the universe and provide us a rationale for being and living, and consolation in dying.  Sometimes, however, certain beliefs, prime directives really, in our traditional belief systems clash with personal experience, rational thought, or reason, which produces a crisis of personal faith.  What does one do then?

           Sunday morning in Baptist Bible study this subject was broached when one of the fellows said "there are some things that I just take 'on faith,'" which I understood to mean that some things just don't seem to make sense for whatever reason, and so he just accepted them without question.  After a moment I raised this question: why do we do that—accept things "on faith" without question?  Shouldn't we challenge what we don't understand? The reaction from the class was defensive.  We were, after all, talking about Baptist confessional beliefs.

           Confessions are not offers to dialogue, but statements demanding acceptance.  And some beliefs are so basic to faith that even their challenge threatens to undermine "the faith that was once for all delivered to the saints" (Jude 3), and shakes the very foundations of a faith that gives meaning and order to life.  What was an academic question for me, whose answer, I hoped, might lead to a better understanding of how we think about faith was seen by the class as an assault on faith, or so it seemed.

           Religious confessions are holy things; for the confessor they are the very essence of absolute truth, and we defer to them as we do not to other secular beliefs we hold.  Secular beliefs we change quite frequently, but in the face of a threat to religious belief we sense the shifting of tectonic plates beneath our feet.  But the fact is that religious beliefs do change.  What was gospel truth yesterday and today, tomorrow may very well be consigned to the dust bin of discarded religious belief.

           There are numerous examples of Christian "believers" who questioned beliefs and refused to take things "on faith."  For example, that was precisely the case with Job.  His friends told him that he was suffering because of his sins (the common view of Mediterranean antiquity).  That answer was not satisfying to Job.  He was willing to admit that he may have sinned, but what he was suffering was out of all proportion to whatever sins he may have committed.  He kept wrestling with a faith that affirmed: "sin always results in suffering; Job is suffering; therefore Job is a sinner."  Job could not let the matter drop until he became convinced that God was powerful enough to do whatever God wanted—but Job never admitted that what he was suffering was the result of his sins (and of course the reader knows from reading the prologue to the poem, Job was right).  In short Job never accepted the premise of his friends, even though he lost his one-sided argument with God.  Because we have read the book, we know that Job's friends wanted him to confess something that was not true.

            Here is another belief that was "gospel truth" in the Christian church.  From the second century to the sixteenth century the standard view of the cosmos was that the earth was the center of the universe.  A Polish scientist and churchman Nikolas Copernicus, however, in the early part of the sixteenth century proved that our solar system was heliocentric—meaning that the earth and all the planets in our solar system revolved around the sun.  Fearing the inevitable conflict between his book and the church, Copernicus did not allow his book to be published until his death. At the end of the sixteenth century Giordano Bruno, a Monk-philosopher, believed Copernicus was right. Bruno was taken to court and given a chance to recant his heresy of the earth revolving around the sun.  He refused to recant and was burned at the stake as a heretic.  Later Galileo Galilei, an Italian astronomer of the 17^th century, was placed under house arrest by church authorities for agreeing with Copernicus.  In the end, however, he perjured himself and recanted.  The church was mistaken, the confession was wrong, and eventually was quietly changed.  Today we all know that the earth is a planet in an out of the way solar system at the edge of the Milky Way galaxy—and it circles around our sun.  The religious belief that was once "gospel truth" for over a thousand years was replaced by a secular truth.

            In short, confessions of faith are absolute truths only for those who accept them as such.  Faith, however, may not demand that I confess things I find questionable or untrue; for confessions do not originate in the mind of God; they are human formulations that are changed by vote, synod action, or simply quietly over time.  The Christian church is a conservative institution with a vested interest in its survival with the least amount of change.  Some things, however, will always be in need of change—and change begins with questions.

Charles W. Hedrick

Professor Emeritus

Missouri State University