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Published online by Cambridge University Press: 30 January 2009
Because the sermon on the mount (hereafter SM) has received as much attention as any text in all of world literature, informed attempts to interpret it should in some way come to terms with the history of the discussion. For this reason we shall commence by examining several traditional approaches to the SM. We fully recognise that ‘a history of the interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount throughout the past two millennia would virtually amount to an introduction to the entire development of Christian theology and ethics’ — a fact which means that our own review is of necessity brief and piecemeal. Nonetheless, the following few pages do suffice to reveal certain important tendencies in exegetical history. Among them, and of first importance for our concerns, is the unfortunate habit of viewing the SM in isolation. Interpreters have again and again failed to take seriously the broader, literary context of Mt. 5–7 and have instead interpreted the chapters as though they were complete unto themselves, as though they constituted a book instead of a portion of a book. The considerable hermeneutical consequences have, on the whole, led away from the intent of the evangelist (our primary concern herein). It is our contention that any credible interpretation of Mt. 5–7 must constantly keep an eye on Mt. 1–4 and Mt. 9–28, for the part (the SM) draws its true meaning only from the whole (Matthew's Gospel). Put otherwise, the proper interpretation of the SM must be at one with the proper interpretation of the First Gospel in its entirety.
1 Surveys include: Barth, G., ‘Bergpredigt’, in TRE 5 (1980), pp. 603–618Google Scholar; Bauman, C., The Sermon on the Moun: The Modern Quest for Its Meaning (Macon, 1985)Google Scholar; Berner, U., Die Bergpredigt: Reception und Auslegung im 20. Jahrhundert (Göttingen, 1979)Google Scholar; Beyschlag, K., ‘Zur Geschichte der Bergpredigt in der Alten Kirche’, ZTK 74 (1977), pp. 291–322Google Scholar; Frankemölle, H., ‘Neue Literatur zur Bergpredigt’, TRev 79 (1983), pp. 177–198Google Scholar; Grant, R. M., ‘The Sermon on the Mount in Early Christianity’, Semeia 12 (1978), pp. 215–231Google Scholar; Kissinger, W. S., The Sermon on the Mount: A History of Interpretation and Bibliography (Metuchen, 1975)Google Scholar; Luz, U., ‘Die Bergpredigt im Spiegel ihrer Wirkungsgeschichte’, in Nachfolge und Bergpredigt, ed. Moltmann, J. (Munich, 1981), pp. 37–72Google Scholar; McArthur, H. A., Understanding the Sermon on the Mount (London, 1960)Google Scholar; Soiron, T., Die Bergpredigt (Freiburg, 1941)Google Scholar.
2 Pelikan, J., The Melody of Theology (London, 1988), p. 229Google Scholar.
3 This is even more true outside theological circles. Symptomatic is the occasional reprinting of the SM in anthologies; see e.g. The Norton Anthology of World Literature, 5th ed., vol. I, ed. Mack, M. et al. (New York, 1985), pp. 960–965Google Scholar.
4 The tendency to divide believers into two groups has, for obvious reasons, appeared especially within aescetical movements: only a few of us are ever up to the task of physical self-denial. This explains why the division between the perfect and the laity became formalized among the Manicheans, the medieval Cathars, and the Bogomils—all heretical sects which denied the goodness of the material creation and so adopted extreme rigorism.
5 The distinction between the ‘advice’ and ‘requirements’ of Christ is already met with in Tertullian (Ad uxorem 2.1) and Origen (Comm. on Rom. on 3.3); but it is only with Rupert of Deutz (ca. 1075–1129/30) that it becomes part of the exegesis of the SM.
6 Note the polemical barbs of Luther in The Sermon on the Mount (Sermons) and the Magnifical (Saint Louis, 1956), pp. 3–4Google Scholar.
7 Augustine, incidentally, may be responsible for the term, ‘the sermon on the mount’.
8 Davies, W. D., The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount (Cambridge, 1963), pp. 209–214Google Scholar.
9 We might also observe that if Paul, as it seems, knew a number of the sayings now found in the SM, there is no evidence that he thought they might not apply equally to all; cf. Allison, D. C. Jr., ‘The Pauline Epistles and the Synoptic Gospels’, NTS 28 (1982), pp. 11–12CrossRefGoogle Scholar.
10 See D. C. Allison, Jr.,‘Gnilka on Matthew’, Bib, forthcoming, where it is urged that Mt. 1–4 introduces Jesus,5–7 gives us his moral teaching, 8–9 recounts his mighty deeds, and 10 sets forth what the disciples, in imitation of their Lord (10.24–25), are to say and do.
11 One must, however, be cautious here. Christians have traditionally assumed the moral perfection of only one human being. But ancient Jewish sources describe several OT figures as ‘perfect’ or ‘blameless’ or ‘sinless’; note e.g. Jub. 25.10 (Abraham); Pry. Manasseh 8 (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob); 11 QPs DavComp. 1.3 (David); 2 Bar. 9.1 (Jeremiah); T. Abr. A 10.14 (Abraham); cf. T. Mos. 9.4; L. Sanh. 13.3; b. Qidd. 40b.
12 See Calvin's, Commentary on a Harmony of the Gospels, reprint ed., 3 vols. (Grand Rapids, 1956, 1957), vol. I, pp. 258–29Google Scholar.
13 Cf. Manson, W., Jesus the Messiah (London, 1943), p. 92Google Scholar, commenting on the requirements of non-resistance and giving to all and abjuring worldly cares: ‘It may…save us from much misconception to observe that the commandments in question have the intention of revealing what perfect trust in God and love to man really mean with regard to the spirit of our actions, from which it would follow that the right understanding and fulfilment of the principles may not be disjoined from a dear-eyed vision of the character of the situations in which we are called to act.’
14 See esp. Tolstoi, L., My Religion (New York, 1885)Google Scholar.
15 See Beyschlag, K., Die Bergpredigt und Franz von Assisi (Gütersloh, 1955)Google Scholar. Bu t Francis was not a pacifist in the modern sense. He supported the crusades against Islam. Further, the ideal of the chivalrous knight much informed his self-conception. At the same time, one wonders whether his experiences in Damietta in Egypt, with both the Christian crusaders and the sultan, did not move him to reconsider the justice of the crusades. Certainly among his followers there were some who believed that the missionary enterprise should replace military force.
16 See e.g. Gandhi, M., Non-violent Resistance (Satyagraha), ed. Kumarappa, B. (New York, 1951)Google Scholar.
17 A common criticism of Gandhi is that while his principle of ahimsa or non violence may have had some success in India, where his opponents were the British (claimed to be more humane), he would not have fared so well in Nazi Germany or Stalinist Russia. Can this criticism be sustained? Moral comparisons among nations are usually based on national prejudices.
18 For the argument that Jesus should be considered a pacifist see Cadoux, E. J., The Early Christian Attitude Toward War (London, 1919), pp. 19–47Google Scholar, and Yoder, J. H., The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids, 1972)Google Scholar. Even if one does not adopt the pacifist position, it must be admitted that in ML 5.43–48 one loves the enemy because God does: the command is not practical or given in order to make a better world. The enemy, although loved, remains the enemy. The moral teaching of the SM is grounded wholly on religious motives.
19 See the discussion of Davies, W. D. and Allison, D. C. Jr., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, ICC (Edinburgh, 1988), vol. I, pp. 481–502Google Scholar.
20 Given the disastrous consequences of the revolt against Rome in A.D. 70, Matthew might have come to view military activity with such abhorrence and distrust as to take, like some of the Pharisees, a pacifist position on war. See Davies, and Allison, , Matthew, vol. I, pp. 542–543Google Scholar. Biale, David, however, in Power and Powerlessness in Jewish History, New York, 1986Google Scholar, challenges much of the customary interpretation of the history of the Jews in the period of our concern, and his work makes the passive oppression inculcated by the SM less original than often assumed. Further, the change from Jewish power to powerlessness as a result of the failures of A.D. 70 is, according to Biale, a myth. Caution is, therefore, in order.
21 Buber, M., ‘Hebrew Humanism’, in Israel and the World (New York, 1948), p. 246Google Scholar.
22 On how the two kingdoms idea functioned in the thought of Emanuel Hirsch see Ericksen, R. P., Theologians under Hitler (London, 1985), pp. 120–197Google Scholar. Note Barth's, K. judgment in Eine Schweizer Stimme, (Zurich, 1945)Google Scholar: the Lutheran doctrine of the two Kingdoms, which runs the risk of denying Christ's lordship over all, helped open the state church to the Nazi movement. See further Johnson, M. D., ‘Power Politics and New Testament Scholarship in the National Socialist Period’, Journal of Ecumenical Studies 23 (1986), pp. 1–24Google Scholar. Also helpful is Pannenberg, W., ‘Luther's Doctrine of the Two Kingdoms’, in Ethics (Philadelphia, 1981), pp. 112–131Google Scholar.
23 Cf. Bornkamm, G., Jesus of Nazareth (London, 1960), p. 224Google Scholar: there is constantly a danger of ‘putting the Sermon on the Mount away in storage by means of dogmatics’.
24 Jeremias, J., The Sermon on the Mount (Philadelphia, 1965), p. 9Google Scholar.
25 Thurneysen, E., The Sermon on the Mount (Richmond, 1964), pp. 18, 39Google Scholar.
26 Davies, and Allison, , Matthew, vol. I, pp. 436–439, 466Google Scholar.
27 Davies and Allison, ibid., pp. 544, 546.
28 Schnackenburg, R., The Moral Teaching of the New Testament (New York, 1979), p. 85Google Scholar.
29 Despite much recent debate, most scholars would still agree that Mt. 5–7 is Matthew's expansion of a discourse in Qmt (closely related to what we find in Lk. 6.20–49). The evangelist creatively remoulded it by adding passages from M, from elsewhere in Qmt, and from his own hand (redactional material).
30 Full discussion in Davies, , Setting, pp. 316–341Google Scholar. We ourselves are quite uncertain that anything in the SM points to Paul.
31 Friedlander, G., The Jewish Sources of the Sermon on the Mount (London, 1911), p. 266Google Scholar, claimed that ‘four-fifths of the Sermon on the Mount is exclusively jewish’. While this is probably a fair statement, there are at least six ways in which the SM stands out from its Jewish background — (a) the lack of attention given to Israel as such, (b) the exclusive focus on religio-moral concerns, (c) the emphasis upon intention, (d) the constant connexion with the kingdom of God, (e) the uncompromising demand for the ideal or the perfect, and (f) the christological elements.
32 We are of the opinion, and have argued in our commentary, that the SM contains a great deal that goes back to Jesus. This is why much that can be said about the SM holds equally for the historical Jesus.
33 Weiss, J., Jesus' Proclamation of the Kingdom of God (Philadelphia, 1971), pp. 105–114Google Scholar; Schweitzer, A., The Quest of the Historical jesus (New York, 1961), pp. 354–358Google Scholar.
34 Kittel, G., ‘Die Bergpredigt und die Ethik des judentums’, ZST 2 (1925), pp. 555–594Google Scholar.
35 Streeter, B. H., The Four Gospels, rev. ed. (London, 1930), pp. 249–254Google Scholar.
36 Windisch, H., The Meaning of the Sermond on the Mount (Philadelphia, 1951)Google Scholar.
37 Davies, Setting.
38 H. D., Ben, Essays on the Sermon on the Mount (Philadelphia, 1985)Google Scholar. For criticism see Allison, D. C. Jr., ‘A New Approach to the Sermon on the Mount’, ETL54 (1988), pp. 405–414Google Scholar; Carlston, C. E., ‘Betzon the Sermon on the Mount — A Critique’, CBQ 50 (1988), pp. 47–57Google Scholar; and Stanton, G. N., ‘The Origin and Purpose of Matthew's Sermon on the Mount’, in Hawthorne, G. F. and Betz, O., eds., Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament (Grand Rapids, 1987), pp. 181–192Google Scholar.
39 Allison, D. C. Jr., ‘The Structure of the Sermon on the Mount’, JBL 106 (1987), pp. 423–445Google Scholar; cf. Luz, U., Das Evangelium nach Matihāus (Mt 1–7), EKK 1/1 (Zürich and Neukirchen-Vluyn, 1985), pp. 185–187Google Scholar.
40 We emphasize before proceeding that space does not allow us to dwell in adequate detail on the social and political setting of the SM. Presumably the revolt against Rome and the events that preceded and followed it profoundly influenced Matthew and the judaism whence he came. Thus certain questions must be asked. Did Matthew share in the rabbinic distrust of the apocalyptic militarism of the revolutionaries, and does this help explain the stress upon peace and reconciliation and passive acceptance to oppression in the SM? Again, is his concern with almsgiving a reflection of the concern, exhibited by the Sages, to confront the poverty subsequent to the revolt? Certainly Matthew's engagement withe the emerging Jamnian Judaism is clear (cf. Davies, and Allison, , Matthew, vol. I, pp. 133–138, 729–30)Google Scholar. The SM was not composed in a social or political vacuum, and the interpreter must read it with the history of late first-century Judaism vividly in mind.
41 See Neusner, J., Torah from the Sages (Chappaqua, 1984), pp. 23–24, 28–32, 39–44, 71–79, 99, 112–14, 136–41Google Scholar.
42 It is generally assumed that Simeon is either Simeon I, the high priest from ca. 300–270 B.C., who is called ‘the just’ in josephus, Ant. 12.43, or Simeon II, probably a grandson of the former, the high priest around 220–200 B.C. The majority of scholars favors the idcntification with Simeon II, who seems also to be the high priest by that name praised by Sirach in Ecclus. 50.1–21.
43 Goldin, J., ‘The Three Pillars of Simeon the Righteous’ Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research 27 (1958), pp. 43–56CrossRefGoogle Scholar.
44 Cf. Davies, , Setting, pp. 305–307Google Scholar; Ellis, P. F., Matthew: His Mind and Message (Collegeville, 1974), p. 37Google Scholar; contrast Syreeni, K., The Making of the Sermon on the Mount (Helsinki, 1987), pp. 211–212Google Scholar.
45 Despite dating the dialogue in ARN4 to ca. A. D. 130, Neusner does affirm that Johanan, after the destruction of Jerusalem in A.D. 70, occupied himself with reinterpreting Simeon's pillars; see his Judaism in the Beginnings of Christianity (Philadelphia, 1984), pp. 95–96Google Scholar.
46 Davies, and Allison, , Matthew, vol. I. pp. 423–424, 427Google Scholar. See also Allison, D. C. jr., ‘Jesus and Moses (Mt. 5: 1–2)’, ExpT 98 (1987), pp. 203–205Google Scholar.
47 For an overview see Allison, ‘Gnilka on Matthew’.
48 Davies, , Setting, pp. 109–190Google Scholar.
49 Cf. Hengel, M., ‘Zurmatthäischen Bergpredigt und ihremjüdischen Hintergrund’, TR 52 (1987), pp. 377–378Google Scholar.
50 Also pertinent in this connexion is the SM's linking of the moral order to the physical order, as in 5.45 and 6.25–34; see Davies, and Allison, , Matthew, vol I, pp. 555–556, 649Google Scholar. To live Jesus' demands is to live according to the created order (as it was intended by God).
51 Ellis, , Matthew, p. 36Google Scholar.
52 Luz, , Matthäus, vol. I, p. 189Google Scholar: whoever forgets that the SM comes only after Mt. 1–4 and can only come after Mt. 1–4 must misconstrue it.
53 See Hengel, , ‘Bergpredigt’, pp. 351–353Google Scholar.
54 See Davies, and Allison, , Matthew, vol. 1, p. 531Google Scholar.
55 See Stendahl, K., ‘Prayer and Forgiveness’, SEÅ 22 (1957), pp. 75–86Google Scholar; reprinted in Meanings (Philadelphia, 1984), pp. 115–126Google Scholar.
56 Cf. Allison, , ‘Structure’, p. 439Google Scholar.
57 On the corporate character of the address see esp. Calvin, Inst. 3.20.38.
58 Suggestive here is Hauerwas, S., ‘On Developing Hopeful Virtues’, Christian Scholars Review 18 (1988), pp. 107–117Google Scholar.
59 Many, however, now seem to take Schweitzer's position for granted; note e.g. Bowden, J., Jesus: The Unanswered Questions (London, 1988), pp. 113–115Google Scholar.
60 On Matthew's ‘realized eschatology’ see Allison, D. C. Jr., The End of the Ages has Come: An Early Interpretation of the Passion and Resurrection of Jesus (Edinburgh, 1987), pp. 40–50Google Scholar, and Meier, J. P., Law and History in Matthew's Gospel, Ain Bib 71 (Rome, 1976), pp. 25–40Google Scholar.
61 This raises questions over all attempts to turn the SM into a political blueprint for society at large.
62 Quest, p. 402.
63 The importance of the commandment to love is shown by this, that Matthew chose to save until the end of chapter 5, as the last of his six paragraphs on Jesus and the Torah, the command to love one's enemy; it is, therefore, the climactic command in 5.17–48. Also, 7.12, the so-called golden rule, brings the entire central core of the SM (5.17–7.12) to a close, and it, in context, must be understood as a restatement of the commandment to love; cf. Luz, , Matthäus, vol. 1, pp. 387–394Google Scholar, and esp. Ricoeur, P., ‘Entre Philosophie et Thėologie: La Rêgie d'or en Question’, RHPR 68 (1988), pp. 3–9Google Scholar.
64 Matthew's Gospel not only promises heavenly rewards for good actions and punishments for evil actions bin simultaneously assumes the possibility of truly unselfish or disinterested action.
65 Notably, early Christians are those of the ‘way’ (⋯δ⋯s) in Acts. Does this not evoke movement and progress? It is also worth observing that Mt. 5.6 (‘Blessed are those that hunger and thirst after righteousness’) does not congragulate those who are as a matter of fact righteous. It instead lifts up those who are hungering and thirsting for conformity to the will of God. Righteousness, it is implied, must ever be sought. Compare Lk. 18.9–14, where the man who thinks himself righteous really is not Those who hunger and thirst after righteousness are blessed, not those who think they have already attained it.
66 Lapide, P., The Sermon on the Mount (Maryknoll, 1986), p. 7Google Scholar.
67 Should we compare the formulation in Plato, Rep. 613 A and Theat 176 B? The idea of becoming like God through virtue (the ‘noblest expression of Plato's paideia’ — W.Jaeger) was picked up by the Stoics, the Neo-Platonists, and the Church Fathers. Is there not here a parallel with the SM, provided one makes it plain that in the gospels must be the God of Israel and the virtues those taught and lived by Jesus Christ?