Paul N. Anderson, ed., Archaeology, Jesus, and the Gospel of John: What Recent Discoveries Show Us (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2026)
This work is the fruit of years of discussion among the members of the John, Jesus, and History Group at Society of Biblical Literature and is a collection of essays, the first one of its kind, that Paul N. Anderson edits on the topic of St. John’s Gospel, Jesus, and archaeology. Archaeology consists of an introduction, essays divided into four parts with an introduction to each one by Anderson, and a list of contributors, works cited as well as three appendices.
In the introduction (“Introduction: Archaeology, John, and Jesus–a First in Johannine and Historical Jesus Studies,” 1–11), Anderson places this work in its scholarly context, the first such work of its kind, explores its origins, and summarizes its contents. The first part (“General Overviews,” 13–16) focuses on general treatments of features of the Johannine narrative associated with topography and Jesus’s itinerary and consists of three chapters. In chapter 1 (“John, the ‘Mundane’ Gospel, and Its Archaeology-Related Features,” 17–32), Anderson chronicles the resistance of modern scholarship to the historicity of St. John’s Gospel. Chapter 2 (“The Quest for the Historical Jesus and the Historical Galilee,” 33–48) by R. Alan Culpepper surveys the political and religious setting of Jesus’s ministry in the Fourth Gospel. In chapter 3 (“John and the Geography of Palestine,” 49–66), James Riley Strange outlines the geographical setting of Jesus’s ministry with an eye to his itinerary.
Part 2 (“The Ministry of Jesus in Galilee, Samaria, and the Judean Countryside,” 67–69) concentrates on Jesus’s ministry in these areas of the Holy Land. In chapters 4 and 5 (“The Fourth Gospel Versus the Synoptics on John the Baptist’s Geographical Arena,” 71–95 and “John the Baptist, the River Jordan, and the Historical Significance of Locations in the Fourth Gospel,” 96–124), Rivka Nir and Joan E. Taylor each explore the places the canonical Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—testify that John the Baptizer lived and performed his baptizing ministry. Nir argues that St. John’s placement of John the Baptist in the Transjordan may be an authentic historical memory, and Taylor emphasizes the theological reasons for John the Baptizer baptizing in the River Jordan. Chapters 6 and 7 (“The Case of a Fallen Grain of Wheat,” 125–34 and “The Fourth Gospel and the Archaeological Search for Bethsaida,” 135–49) by Rami Arav and Mordechai Aviam and R. Steven Notley respectively explore some archaeological discoveries of Bethsaida as they relate to St. John’s Gospel.
In chapters 8 and 9 (“Uncovering Cana of Galilee: The Archaeological Excavations at Khirbet Qana and the References to Cana in the Gospel of John,” 150–62 and “The Stone Jars of Cana (John 2:6) and Recent Archaeological Developments,” 163–91). C. Thomas McCollough and Roland Deines each survey the latest material findings from Cana: the former the site of Khirbet Qana and the latter the stone vessels that Jesus uses in his first sign in the gospel (John 2:6). Chapter 10 (“The Worship Site on Mount Gerazim,” 192–202) by Robert Bull, Jane Evans, and Anderson outlines the latest discoveries on Mount Gerazim. In chapter 11 (“High Noon at Jacob’s Well–Jesus at Sychar in John 4:4–6,” 203–19), Jürgen Zangenberg describes the relationship between Jews and Samaritans. Chapter 12 (“Capernaum in the Fourth Gospel in Light of Archaeology and Synagogue Studies,” 220–42) by Jordan Ryan explores the role of Capernaum in the canonical Gospels. Chapter 13 (“The Decorated Stone from the Magdala Synagogue and Judean Connections with Jesus’s Galilean Mission in the Fourth Gospel,” 243–67) by Wally Ciragesi suggests that Jewish priests may have been active in the synagogues of Capernaum and Magdala. In chapter 14 (“Jesus, Fishing, and the Sea of Galilee in the Gospel of John,” 268–75), K. C. Hanson presents the socioeconomic realities of the fishing industry in and around the Sea of Galilee. Chapter 15 (“Jerome Murphy-O’Connor’s Place Names in John Revisited,” 276–83) by Scott Stripling interacts with Jerome Murphy-O’Connor’s work of exploring some of the sites mentioned in the Madaba Map (a sixth century AD map on a mosaic from a church in Madaba, Jordan) and locating them at some place names mentioned in St. John’s Gospel. Stripling accepts Murphy-O’Connor’s identification of Bethany as Bethabara but rejects his identification of Ephraim as Taybeh.
Part 3 (“The Ministry of Jesus in Bethany and Jerusalem,” 285–93) explores aspects of Jesus’s ministry in Jerusalem and its environs in St. John’s Gospel. In chapter 16 (“Sleeping Lazarus Resurrection–the Relation Between the Intratextual and Extratextual Worlds of the Lazarus Story of John 13,” 295–315), Zangenberg surveys the latest discoveries associated with the death of Lazarus. Chapter 17 (“The Archaeology of Bethesda and Interpretation of Jesus Healing at the Pool (John 5:1–16),” 316–38) by Craig Koester discusses the latest archaeological evidence for the pool of Bethesda. In chapter 18 (“The Pool of Siloam, Ritual Purification, and John 9,” 339–54), Gary Burge examines the second pool of Siloam, which was discovered in 2004. Chapter 19 (“John, Josephus, and the Way of the Cross,” 355–64) by Steven Notley investigates the final days of Jesus from St. John’s Gospel with reference to Josephus’s writings and the Via Dolorosa. In chapter 20 (“Food and Clothing in the Gospel of John,” 366–74), Jodi Magness explores the historical aspects of food and clothing in the Fourth Evangelist. Chapter 21 (“Historical and Archaeological Evidence for Crucifragium in John 19:31–37,” 375–87) by Brian Johnson is devoted to the ankle bone of a crucified man that was discovered in 1968. In chapters 22 and 23 (“Golgotha in the Gospel of John, the Tomb of Jesus, and the Underlying Topography of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher,” 388–422 and “Golgotha, the Tomb of Jesus, and the Gospel of John,” 423–41), Shimon Gibson and Urban von Wahlde respectively focus on the location of Golgotha.
Part 4 (“Responses and Implications,” 443) contains two chapters that survey the previous chapters for their significance. In chapter 24 (“Recent Discoveries, John, and the Future of Historical Jesus Studies,” 445–65), Craig Evans evaluates the contributions of these chapters and their implications for the study of the so-called historical Jesus. Chapter 25 (“Archaeology and Its Implications for the Quests of John, Jesus, and History,” 466–83) by Anderson reflects on the role that this work will play in future inquiries in the study of St. John’s Gospel and the so-called historical Jesus.
This work is an amazing collection that brings together a diverse group of international Biblical scholars and archaeologists, some of whom excavate at the sites on which they contributed essays. It is crammed full of so much information that an essay-by-essay review of it is not possible (one would need a monograph for that!). In short, Archaeology is an indispensable volume for anyone working on St. John’s Gospel and we should thank Anderson for putting together this splendid collection of essays! Pick up your copy now directly from Eerdmans.
I am grateful to Eerdmans for the gratis copy of this work, which in no way influenced my review of it.
John J. Collins, Apocalypticism as a Worldview in Ancient Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2026)
The goal of this work is to provide an overview of the apocalyptic worldview of ancient Judaism gleaned from early Jewish apocalypses such as Daniel, 1 Enoch, and the Dead Sea Scrolls. To accomplish this end, Collins divides his work into six chapters with an introduction, an epilogue, an acknowledgment, a bibliography, and three appendices.
In the introduction (“Critical Issues in the Contemporary Debate,” 1–5), Collins introduces the volume, setting out his above-mentioned purpose and the ancient sources he uses to achieve it. Chapter 1 (“Genres, Constellations, and Worldviews,” 6–28) relates the history of the study of apocalyptic literature as an academic discipline; discusses the definition of an “apocalypse,” which Collins defines as “a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involves another, supernatural world” (12);[1] and introduces the concept of worldview, which relates to epistemological assumptions about the world, including space, time, and human existence and has implications for “human values and conduct” (25).
In chapter 2 (“Changing Views of History,” 29–51), Collins explores a distinctive feature of the apocalyptic literature, which undergirds the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview: long reviews of history, often the rise and fall historical empires, that tend to be presented as prophecy already fulfilled with an unfulfilled pending act of God in the near future, which will bring about some kind of restoration. This end, however, is not final and one of the notable elements of apocalyptic eschatology is the desire for “another kind of life” not “subject to death and decay” that is “beyond human experience” (51).
Chapter 3 (“Mythic Frameworks,” 52–74) examines the myths and symbols, often of superhuman evil in the world, in the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview that are drawn from other cultures around Second Temple Jews. For apocalypticists, the world is under the control of malign non-human forces and these myths and symbols help to communicate that.
In chapter 4 (“The Open Heaven,” 75–98), Collins discusses one of the main concerns of the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview: the current cosmic context in which humans live and the desire for God’s people to be transformed in the near future and to live in his presence everlastingly. Much of this cosmic context remains hidden from humans and consists of a cosmic war with angels and demons, good and evil.
Chapter 5 (“The Pursuit of the Millennium,” 99–116) looks at two concerns of the present world in the ancient Jewish apocalyptic worldview: the fact that the locus of many apocalyptic visions is some kind of distress and that the ultimate hope for this world is its transformation.
In chapter 6 (“Apocalyptic Literature Transmitted by Christians,” 117–32), Collins reviews apocalyptic literature that Slavonic, Syrian, and Ethiopic Christians transmitted but probably did not compose, 1 Enoch, 2 Enoch, 3 Baruch, for example, which revolutionized our understanding of ancient Judaism and its theological diversity.
The epilogue (Epilogue: “The Legacy of Apocalypticism,” 133–37) explores the legacy of apocalypticism in the modern West in two areas: in fundamentalism and in secularism. Collins observes that “fundamentalist Christians continue to expect that the prophecies of Daniel and especially of Revelation will be fulfilled in the near future” (133). In the process, he discusses postmillennialism, which was prominent in the 18th century, and premillennialism, which arose in the late 19th and early 20th century, in the United States. On the other hand, secular apocalypticism, which goes back to the 18th century, is the belief that there is the end of the world is imminent and cataclysmic, but it rejects a belief in angels and demons.
The final portions of Apocalypticism contains an “Acknowledgements” (139–40), a “Bibliography” (141–68), and three indices: “Index of Authors” (169–74), “Index of Subjects” (175–76), and “Index of Scripture and Other Ancient Sources” (177–82).
This work is pure John J. Collins and thus it is excellent. Apocalypticism is clear, concise, and well informed (especially among non-English speaking scholarship). For this reason, this volume is and probably will remain definitive. One particular strength, which is also found in all of Collins’s voluminous scholarship, is that he takes nothing-for-granted in his discussions. Rather, he always begins with the basics of any argument or thesis and from those basics, he makes his well-reasoned and thoughtful arguments. Consequently, I encourage everyone to pick up their copy from Eerdmans!
I am grateful to Eerdmans for the gratis copy of this work, which in no way influenced my review of it.
[1] Collins derives this definition from his work, “Introduction: Towards the Morphology of a Genre,” Semeia 14 (1979): 9.
Michael J. Gorman, Paul and John in Harmony: A Theological and Historical Exploration (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2026)
The goal of this book, which began as a series of lectures at the Lanier Theological Library, is to explore theological aspects of Christology and discipleship in St. John’s Gospel and 1 John that are in harmony with the undisputed Pauline letters (Romans, 1–2 Corinthians, Galatians, 1 Thessalonians, Philippians, and Philemon) and to begin the historical task of reevaluating the relationship between St. John and St. Paul.
Gorman has structured this book in six chapters, a brief epilogue, a bibliography, and three indices: one of subjects, another of modern authors, and one of Scripture.
In the first chapter (“Why This? Why Now?,” 1–16), Gorman lays out the objective for this book and places his volume within the scholarly conversation, especially concerning the relationship of St. John to St. Paul.
Chapter 2 (“Paul, John, and Jesus: Christology, and Its Implications for Discipleship” 17–60) explores the significant and similar linguistic, structural, and theological of Philippians 2:6–11 and John 13:1–20: both contain “a two-dimensional story of Christology/soteriology . . . and of participatory discipleship, or spirituality . . .”; both are stories “about God, about incarnation, and about divine self-revelation”; both are stories “of Christ’s divine vulnerability, humility, downward mobility, and self-enslavement followed by exaltation”; both are stories “of self-giving love”; and both are paradoxical in that they feature “Christ’s free choice and obedience.”
In chapter three (Paul, John, and Participation in Christ: Spirituality, and Its Roots in Christology I: Overview,” 61–86), Gorman examines the similar locative and residential rhetoric in St. John’s Gospel and the Pauline letters, namely that Christians reside in Jesus and in God. Thus, he looks at the Greek verbs menō, “to remain,” and oikeō, “dwell,” and the prepositions en, “in,” and meta, “with,” in St. John’s Gospel and 1 John as well as the prepositions en, “in,” and syn, “with,” the latter of which is often found attached to certain verbs in St. Paul’s letters.
Chapter 4 (“Paul, John, and Participation in Christ: Spirituality, and Its Roots in Christology II: Four Common Aspects of Their Locative Language,” 87–128) takes the observations from the previous chapter and considers the locative and residential rhetoric of St. John and St. Paul more in depth. He argues that the use of such rhetoric by both authors is mutual, identity-defining, Trinitarian, active, and transformative. In particular, the mutual and intimate indwelling that St. John and St. Paul discuss “permits believers to share in” the divine identity of God and to be transformed into the image of the Messiah, which is to become more like God (126). Since God the Father and Son are “on the move, this Godlike Christlikeness is inherently and inevitably missional in character, enabled by the Spirit of the Son and the Father” (126). Nevertheless, there are differences in St. John’s and St. Paul’s locative and residential rhetoric. The former does not talk about the body of the Messiah as St. Paul does, St. John does not speak of being “in the Messiah,” and St. Paul rarely notes that Christians are “in Jesus.” The reason for these differences is that St. John’s Gospel “reflects a time when Jesus was doing his earthly ministry,” while St. Paul was focused on the risen Messiah and Lord (126).
In chapter 5 (“Prequels and Sequels,” 129–56), Gorman investigates the “prequels” and “sequels” to the Gospel of St. John and the letters of Paul noting that both corpora highlight that the Father sends the Son and the Spirit, that one must believe in Jesus, be in him, and dwell in him, and that both underscore God’s life-giving salvific activity. All these observations serve as the foundation for Gorman’s last chapter and suggestion about the relationship between St. John’s Gospel and St. Paul.
Chapter 6 (“Similarities and Sources,” 157–80) reviews the genetic question about which New Testament author influenced whom, observing the three ways that scholars have answered this question: (1) each author wrote independent of each other and drew on common sources; (2) St. Paul influenced St. John’s writings, either through his own writings or the tradition associated with him (which is the commonest view) or St. John and his writings influenced St. Paul; and (3) St. Paul’s traditions and writings and Johannine tradition and writings influenced each other. Gorman offers a new proposal: St. John influenced St. Paul. The main reason is that “it makes more sense to think of Paul as translating Johannine narratives and metaphors into new idioms for new situations . . . than it does to think of the author of John taking Pauline words, phrases, metaphors, and narratives and placing them on the lips of Jesus and in his own hands as the Gospel narrator” (167). He provides two ways in which this happened: (1) the soft version: either St. Paul knew of Johannine traditions or an early version of St. John’s Gospel or (2) the hard version: St. Paul knew of St. John’s Gospel “more or less as we have it” (168). Gorman points out that the soft version is not as controversial because even Raymond Brown concluded that some Johannine traditions date between AD 40 and 60. The hard version, however, is contrary to almost all historical-critical scholarship on St. John’s Gospel, that its final form dates to the mid AD 90s.
Nevertheless, Gorman gives eight reasons to support his proposal. The first is that provided St. Paul knew of John 13–17, with what other parts of John was he familiar? He suggests that it is likely the apostle knew the Gospel was a whole, save for John 21. The second is that an early date for St. John’s Gospel is not out of the realm of possibility because hard evidence for a post AD-70 date is lacking. The third reason is that there is no reason why St. John’s Christology postdates St. Paul’s. The fourth is that St. John’s Gospel may have been composed in the AD 40s. The fifth reason is that if St. John knew and used St. Mark’s Gospel and possibly also St. Matthew’s, then all three Synoptic Gospels possibly date before AD 50. The sixth is that this dating of the Gospels explains several aspects of Pauline theology such as the similarities between St. Paul and St. John, St. Paul’s similarity to St. Mark’s understanding of the cross and discipleship, and St. Paul’s citations of St. Matthew’s and St. Luke’s Gospels [what citations he does not provide]. The seventh reason is that St. Paul’s use of St. John’s Gospel resembles how the author of 1 John uses St. John’s Gospel, too. And, the eighth reason is that St. Paul probably gained access to St. John’s Gospel as it circulated among early Christians.
Finally, in the last chapter (“A Brief Epilogue,” 181–82), Gorman provides a short summary of Paul and John in Harmony.
This work is quintessential Gorman: well-written, easy to read, descriptive, precise, filled with summaries of his arguments, and thought provoking. I have noted the similarities between Philippians 2:6–11 and John 13 for years in my own study and preaching and Gorman has convinced me that there is a relationship between St. Paul and St. John’s Gospel. What is more, for the past few years, especially since I read Jonathan Bernier’s Rethinking the Dates of the New Testament (2022) (which I review here); J. A. T. Robinson,Redating the New Testament (1976), and Brant Pitre, The Case for Jesus (2016), I now question the entire scholarly edifice on which the reconstruction of early Christianity is based, especially the dates of the New Testament works (I am in the data collection process of a new introduction to the New Testament that re-examines the dates of the twenty-seven canonical works). Therefore, I welcome Gorman’s new proposal that the best explanation for the similarities between St. Paul and St. John that the former knew and read the latter’s Gospel (save for John 21): Bravo!
In sum, this is an excellent and important read and I encourage you to get your copy of Paul and John in Harmony today directly from Baker Academic!
I am grateful for the gratis copy of this book, which in no way influenced by review of it.
John H. Walton, The Lost World of the Prophets: Old Testament Prophecy and Apocalyptic Literature in Ancient Context (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic Press, 2025)
Walton’s goal in this book is to demonstrate the most accurate reading, interpretation, and application of the Old Testament Prophets to his ideal reader, which appears to be a modern Western, American evangelical Christian. He accomplishes this aim by helping this reader to (re)discover the “lost world” of the Prophets and their ancient Near Eastern context, which will ensure a reading that is faithful to their original intentions and avoids misunderstanding their messages.
Walton arranges his book with an introduction, five parts with sixteen chapters in the form of propositions, a conclusion, a section with books for further reading, and two indices: a general index and a Scriptural index.
In the introduction, Walton lays out this work’s aforementioned goal (which is similar to all the books in his Lost World series), to provide a fresh reading of the Old Testament Prophets informed by the cultural context or the “cultural river” of the ancient Near Eastern world, which is based on “the principle that the Bible is written for us but not to us” (2). In the process, he hopes to guard against the misinterpretation of the Prophets that have plagued American evangelical Christianity, especially since the rise of dispensational premillennialism.
Part 1 (“Ancient Near East”) contains two propositions that focus on the ancient Near Eastern context of prophecy in the Old Testament. The first proposition (“Prophecy Is a Subset of Divination,” 13–19) makes the case that prophecy is a form of ancient Near Eastern divination or the “means by which humans believed they could receive messages or direction from the gods” (13). The reason that divination was important in the ancient Near East is that its inhabitants “felt it was imperative to know what the gods were thinking and doing” and they believed that the “gods communicated with humans through a wide variety of mechanisms” (14).
In the second proposition (“Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East Manifest Similarities and Differences When Compared to Israel,” 20–32), Walton probes the similarities and dissimilarities between ancient Near Eastern and Biblical prophecy. On the one hand, broadly speaking Biblical prophecy shares with ancient Near Eastern prophecy the notion that God/gods communicate with humans, that they chose special messengers (i.e., prophets) to disclose their actions, and these messages took a similar form: “thus says [the name of the deity] . . .” In short, Israel and other ancient Near Eastern cultures “agreed . . . that the exercise of prophetic speech did not serve to tell the future but indicated how the gods were thinking and what they were doing” (27). On the other hand, Biblical Prophets differed from their ancient Near Eastern counterparts in the length and sophistication of the written divinely received messages, that the latter rarely rebuked monarchs (however, Biblical Prophets often did), that the Biblical Prophets addressed their messages to the masses not just to kings (as in most other ancient Near Eastern cultures), and, most obvious, God’s covenant with Israel undergirded the entire message of the Biblical Prophets, which was not the case with other ancient Near Eastern prophets: “it is primarily the existence of the covenant that makes Israelite prophecy different from its counterparts in the ancient world” (emphasis his, 31).
Part 2 (“Institution”) consists of four propositions, the first of which is proposition three (“A Prophet Is a Spokesperson for God, Not a Predictor of the Future,” 35–44). In this chapter, Walton demonstrates that contrary to the popular view of prophets as foretellers they were spokesmen for God revealing his plan and purpose for his people: “I contend that we make a serious mistake when we think of prophecy as prediction. This is true, first, because prophecy does not just deal with the future. Instead, analysis shows that prophets offered God’s messages concerning the past and the present as much or more than they spoke about the future. Second, they were engaged not in telling the future but in revealing God’s plans and purposes (offering a viewpoint that at times extended into the future) . . . nothing that God says could legitimately be labeled as prediction because God is always involved in causation . . . God decrees the course of history; he does not predict the future” (emphasis his, 35–36). The fourth proposition (“Prophecy in the Old Testament is Not Monolithic but Developing,” 45–50) traces prophecy in four distinct phases in Israel’s history: preclassical Prophets (e.g. Samuel, Elijah, Elisha, etc.), preexilic classical Prophets (Amos, Hosea, Isaiah, Micah, Nahum, Habakkuk, Zephaniah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel), postexilic classical Prophets (Haggai, Zechariah, Joel, Obadiah, and Malachi), and the apocalyptic Prophet, Daniel. Walton observes that the preclassical Prophets resemble other ancient Near Eastern prophets in that their main audience was the king. However, the preexilic classical Prophets differed from their precursors in that they addressed everyone. The message of both types of Prophets focused on covenant faithfulness: “the critique of kings in the preclassical period broadened into the critique of the people in the classical period” (47). The classical Prophets’ message was overall one of rebuke and a calling of Israel and Judah to return to God and his covenant, for only 20% of prophetic material is positive and focuses on the future restoration of Israel and Judah. For this reason, Walton proposes “that the primary function of the classical prophets was to rebuke the people, not to announce the future” (48).
In the fifth proposition (“The Classical Prophets Are Champions of the Covenant in Times of Crisis,” 51–58), Walton explores further the message of the classical Prophets, concluding that God raised them up to deliver messages to his people in light of current events of their day. This means that it is difficult for us to extend their messages to contexts that they did not address. The sixth proposition (“Prophecy Takes a Variety of Different Shapes After the Old Testament,” 59–65) examines how, contrary to the belief of some, prophecy continued beyond the lives of the last canonical Old Testament Prophets.
Part 3 of The Lost World (“Literature”) contains three propositions that focus on the Old Testament prophetic works. In proposition seven (“Recognition of the Categories of Prophetic Message Help Us to Be More Informed Readers,” 69–73), Walton delves into the four categories of prophetic messages in the Old Testament: indictment, judgment, instruction, and aftermath. The eighth proposition (“Prophets Were Typically Not Authors,” 74–79) investigates the relationship of the Prophets to the Old Testament works that bear their name. Walton begins by setting forth an eightfold process of composition for these books: 1. the prophetic event occurs, 2. the message is delivered to the intended audience, 3. the message is transcribed, 4. messages are then compiled, 5. these compiled messages are set into a narrative framework, 6. the combined messages and narratives produces what we would call a book, 7. the prophet’s name is placed at the beginning of the work, and 8. the book becomes part of the canon. If this process is correct, then the prophets themselves are not technically the composers of the works that bear their names. Instead, it seems probable that other persons who witnessed the fulfillment of their prophecies of judgment and saw the potential for the fulfillment of their prophecies of restoration or aftermath gathered their messages and compiled them.
In the ninth proposition (“The Implied Audience of the Prophetic Books Is Not Necessarily the Audience of the Prophet,” 80–86), Walton questions whether the implied audience—or the audience for whom the author intended his work—of a prophetic work is the same audience of the Prophet and concludes that it may not be. He contends that the Prophets did not have “insider knowledge about when or how fulfillment might take place: first, because fulfillment can happen more than once, and second, fulfillment often takes oblique turns” (85, he will return to this notion in proposition eleven). Consequently, Walton proposes three categories for thinking about the implied audience of a prophetic book: 1. the audience to whom the Prophet originally spoke and directed his messages, 2. the implied audience to whom a prophetic book is directed, and 3. the Prophet’s message is received by the audience among whom it is fulfilled. “This means that when we seek to interpret the prophets, we would do best to distinguish these varying levels. We first explore the meaning of the prophetic oracles in their own time as best we can (text in context). If the interpreter concludes that there have been stages of accumulation (such as some believe about layers of Isaiah or Daniel), the significance of each layer should be analyzed. The next step is to consider what we know of the final compilation of the book (sadly, often very little) to consider whether those who have committed the collected oracles to writing have adapted its message in some way to their name. Finally, we can consider how the book or the messages it comprises has been interpreted as having been fulfilled by various interpreters in their times” (86).
Part 4 (“Methodological and Interpretive Issues”) contains four propositions, the first of which, “Distinction Between Message and Fulfillment Provides Clear Understanding of Prophetic Literature,” 89–101), emphasizes that to interpret the Prophets properly we should give equal attention to the message a Prophet received from God that he delivered to the original audience and the fulfillment of that prophecy “that brings additional meaning to the original prophetic message” (90). The idea of fulfillment includes the New Testament writers’ use of the Prophets whose messages they adapted and repackaged to their own contexts: “The prophets expected their prophetic oracles to be fulfilled, but they did not have revelation concerning what that fulfillment might look like. Since they were delivering a word from God, the possibilities were manifold and could take unexpected turns” (90). Concerning the New Testament writers use of the Prophets, Walton concludes that “Old Testament texts invite Christotelic repackaging; they do not demand reinterpretation of the Old Testament as being about Christ” (emphasis his, 101).
Proposition eleven (“Fulfillment Follows Oblique Trajectories,” 102–7) catalogues four ways that Old Testament prophecy can have oblique trajectories: 1. “When people change their course, projected fulfillment can be forestalled or eliminated” (emphasis his, 102), 2. “Fulfillment can occur multiple times,” 3. “Fulfillment may be altered,” and 4. “Fulfillment may not look like what would have been anticipated” (emphasis his, 103). In the twelfth proposition (“The New Testament Use of Old Testament Prophecy Focuses on Fulfillment, Not Message,” 108–15), Walton examines the New Testament writers’ use of Old Testament prophecy, concluding that the former were “much more interested in revealing fulfillment than in a text-in-context interpretation of the Old Testament prophets,” like Walton desires the reader to adopt. Nevertheless, “This does not subordinate the fulfillment, nor does it undervalue the contributions of the New Testament. This in turn can caution us about pronouncing how prophecies have been or might be fulfilled when we have no New Testament precedent for such identifications of fulfillment” (115). Proposition thirteen (“Prophecy Carries Important Implications for Understanding God and the Future, but Our Ability to Forge a Detailed Eschatology with Confidence is Limited,” 116–23) explores the eschatology of the Prophets and Walton proposes that while we cannot develop a detailed eschatology and timeline from them, they inform us that in light of the ideal covenant hope of the Prophets and transcendent hope in the New Testament expressed through the adaption of the former, the future is in God’s hands: “The focus of our eschatology is therefore easy enough: God’s kingdom will come, and it will feature Jesus, the risen Savior and the reigning king—Immanuel and Messiah” (120).
Part 5 (“Apocalyptic”) contains three propositions, the first of which, proposition fourteen (“Apocalyptic Should Be Differentiated from Classical Prophecy,” 127–34) demonstrates the differences between classical prophecy and apocalyptic prophecy with an amazing table (I love tables and charts, FYI). For example, classical prophecy focused on direct divine revelation, “Thus says the Lord.” However, apocalyptic focused on the mediation of revelation through a vision or angel. In the end, Walton hypothesizes that apocalyptic, like all prophecy, “does not have the purpose of foretelling the future. Instead, it reveals how God’s plans and purposes begun in the past will find future completion” (134). In proposition fifteen (“In Apocalyptic Literature, Visions Are Not the Message but the Occasion for the Message,” 135–47), Walton suggests that apocalyptic literature contains exotic symbolism, which to interpret properly one must ask what the symbol is, what does it stand for, and what is its cultural significance? When this occurs, it becomes clear that “apocalyptic literature cannot and should not be used as a foundation for constructing eschatological systems, timelines, and predictions” (142). The last and final proposition, proposition sixteen (“New Testament Apocalyptic Operates by the Same Principles as Old Testament Apocalyptic,” 148–57), argues that instead of trying to develop an eschatology timeline and system from the New Testament, “we should focus on hope and faith. Though no one knows the time, we are to live in expectation of the soon return of Christ” (148).
In The Lost World’s final chapter (“Concluding Thoughts: A Reading Strategy,” 159–73), Walton explores how we should read Old Testament prophetic and apocalyptic texts by rearticulating his argument: we should read them through faith and with the knowledge that God is working out his plan for history. This theocentric reading of Scripture differs radically from the self-focused way that pervades evangelical Christianity: “instead of each singular piece of Scripture being viewed as a personalized message to my life and circumstances, each of those pieces has a contribution to make to my understanding of the plans and purposes of God” (160). In the end, Walton notes that the Old Testament Prophets testify to God’s plan and the fulfillment of that plan is God’s business.
This work is well researched, well argued, well written, thoughtful, and above all pastorally minded. While not an evangelical myself, it seems to me that Walton has achieved his goal of helping Christians, in particular American evangelical Christians, to read Scripture more responsibly and he does an excellent job demonstrating the need and benefit of reading the Old Testament Prophets in their ancient Near Eastern context: Bravo! I encourage everyone interested in Old Testament prophecy, apocalypses, and the New Testament writers’ use of the Old Testament Prophets to pick up a copy! You can do so directly through IVP Academic Press!
I am grateful to IVP Academic Press for providing me with a gratis review copy that in no way influenced my work.
Markus Öhler, History of Early Christianity: Religion, Culture, Identity, trans. Jason Valdez (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2025)
In this work, Öhler’s goal is to provide an introductory textbook to the history of early Christianity from its beginnings with the ministry of Jesus to AD 135, the Bar Kokhba Revolt. To achieve this end, he dispenses with footnotes and “the usual formulations of historical research (‘probably,’ ‘possibly,’ etc.)” (xii). To allow the reader to delve deeper into various events and aspects of early Christianity and its world, Öhler provides a list of suggested readings at the end of each section. Along these same lines, he places helpful small summaries on the side of each page describing the topic he addresses. Öhler organizes his work into sixteen chapters and places a list of abbreviations and four indices at the end.
The first chapter (“Basic Questions of a History of Early Christianity,” 1–8) describes the academic study of Christianity, discusses the terms and sources that Öhler uses, and sets the chronological framework for the work.
In the second chapter (“The Greco-Roman World: Power Structures, Society, and Religion,” 9–36), Öhler explores various components of the pagan world in which the Christian movement began.
The third chapter (“The Religion and Culture of the Judeans: Judaism in the Early Imperial Era,” 37–60) focuses on the Judean and Diaspora Jewish environment of nascent Christianity.
In the fourth chapter (“Chronology of Early Christianity,” 61–74), Öhler provides an absolute and relative chronology of the events of embryonic Christianity.
The fifth chapter (“Jesus of Nazareth,” 75–102) covers the life, ministry, death, crucifixion, and burial of Jesus, while the sixth (“The New Beginning: Easter and Pentecost,” 103–110) examines the Easter Event and Apostle’s experience of the Holy Spirit on the Pentecost after Jesus’s resurrection.
In the seventh chapter (“The First Communities in Judea, Galilee, and Samaria,” 111–34), Öhler provides a discussion of the earliest Christian communities in the Holy Land.
The eight chapter (“The Spread of Belief in Christ to Syria,” 135–48) traces the movement of Christianity from its Jewish homeland into the Gentile world in Syria.
In the ninth chapter (“Paul’s Early Years,” 149–60), Öhler reconstructs St. Paul’s life from his Diaspora origins to his early years as a missionary.
The tenth chapter (“The Ongoing Controversy of the Law and Judean Identity,” 161–78) investigates the dispute of the role of the Jewish Torah in the early Christian movement focusing on Acts 15 and Galatians 2.
In the eleventh chapter (“The Spread of the Gospel in Asia Minor and Achaea through Paul,” 179–204), Öhler traces St. Paul’s missionary travels from Acts 13 to 21, placing the first missionary journey in Acts 13 directly after the Apostolic Council in Acts 15.
The twelfth chapter (“The Pauline Ecclesiae,” 205–24) pauses from the discussion of Christianity’s spread to address various aspects of the early Christian congregations associated with St. Paul.
In the thirteenth chapter (“The Continuation and Inclusion of Judean Identity in Early Christianity from the Apostolic Council to the Bar Kokhba Revolt (47–135 CE),” 225–40), Öhler focuses on the spread of Christianity and its associated events in the Holy Land from AD 47 to 135.
The fourteenth chapter (“Early Christianity in Greco-Roman Society Between 60 and 90 CE,” 241–56) probes external events that occurred to Christians outside the Holy Land from AD 60 to 90 with a focus on persecution.
In the fifteenth chapter (“Internal Crises in Early Christianity from 60 to 135 CE,” 257–70), Öhler explores various internal matters that affected Christians from AD 60 to 135 with attention to Christian doctrine.
The final chapter, the sixteenth (“Inner Transformation in Early Christianity from 60 to 135 CE,” 271–86) examines changes from the first generation of Christians to the second and third with a focus on Church structure.
Finally, Öhler provides a helpful list of abbreviations of sources he uses throughout as well as four indices: one for names (“Index of Names,” 293–95), one for subjects (“Index of Subjects,” 296–99), one for place (“Index of Places,” 300–2), and one for ancient sources, including the Bible (“Index of Scripture and Ancient Sources,” 303–21). In addition, Öhler has three figures, eight maps, and four tables interspersed throughout the book.
Öhler’s work is clear, well-informed, and brims with the precision one expects from him. At the same time, it is concise, coming in at a total of 321 pages, well organized, especially as a reference tool, and easy to navigate. What is more, while stemming from a historical-critical framework of interpretation, Öhler’s overall conclusions are well-balanced and generally he fairly treats the interpretative, historical, and theological issues of early Christianity. In short, unlike some secular works on ancient Christianity, Öhler reads the ancient Christian (and pagan) sources for the purpose of constructing a history of early Christianity, not deconstructing the nascent religious movement.
Therefore, if you are looking for a history of early Christianity written from a secular perspective that relies on the historical-critical method of the inquiry of history, then purchase your copy from Baylor University Press by clicking here or Amazon by clicking here.
I am grateful to Baylor University Press for a gratis copy of this work, which in no way influenced by review of it.
