Rethinking John's social setting: hidden transcript, anti-language, and the negotiation of the empire.

Abstract

This paper argues that the Johannine community found itself in a socio-political position in which they were forced to negotiate the Roman imperial world. It suggests that John's community was forced into a sociological /conflict situation/' in which they had to deal with the larger Roman world of which they were a part. In order to demonstrate this argument, this paper rejects Martyn's long held thesis and numerous other alternatives and opts instead for theory based on anti-language and hidden transcript to explain the nature of the "expulsion from the synagogues" found in John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2. The study itself is limited to a discussion of a few of the tides that the Johannine community ascribed to Jesus, tides that were simultaneously ascribed to the emperors of Rome.

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"God would sooner change into a man than man into a god"--Philo, Gaium 16.118)

"The king has absolute rule and is himself Animate Law. ... [he] has been transfigured into a god among men [sic.]"--Diotogenes, On Kingship

In his book JOHANNINE FAITH AND LIBERATING COMMUNITY, David Rensberger argues that the social setting of John's Gospel is based on the expulsion from the synagogue found in John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2 (Rensberger: 26-29, 42ff.). He questions J. L. Martyn's provocative thesis, however, that the expulsion was precipitated by the addition of the birkat ha-minim to the Shmonei Esrei (Amidah)--or Eighteen Benedictions--frequent in the synagogues of the mid to late first century CE (Martyn: 3-41). Instead, Rensberger argues that the text of John itself gives no indication as to why members of the Johannine community were being expelled, systematically or otherwise, from the synagogue, presumably located in the social milieu of Ephesus in the late first century CE, or, as I suggest, within Palestine proper and then at the end of its days in Ephesus (Van Tilborg; Burge; Brown 2003; Carter 2005; 2006). Still, he views the expulsion as the primary indicator of the social setting of the Gospel of John and the Johannine community.

Ever since Martyn produced his theory of the birkat ha-minim as the catalyst for the expulsion referred to in John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2, a slew of arguments have followed, which have successfully refuted Martyn's theory and left behind the following quandary: "Why are the Johannine Christians being expelled from the synagogues?" In his 1981 work "Birkat Ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity" Reuven Kimelmann put forth one of the primary arguments that successfully assailed Martyn's theory. In his essay Kimelmann presented evidence that proved to many scholars that (1) There is no unambiguous evidence that Jews cursed Christians during the statutory prayers; (2) There is abundant evidence that Christians were welcome in the synagogue in the late first century CE as well as the second century CE; (3) There never was a single edict that caused the so-called irreparable separation between Judaism and Christianity. Thus, Kimelmann concluded that the birkat ha-minim does not reflect a watershed in the history of the relationship between Jews and Christians in the late first century CE. Kimelmann based a large part of his conclusion on the fact that a number of later church fathers felt constrained to warn their congregations against attending synagogues. For instance, Ignatius excoriated Christians for attending synagogue services in the second century CE (Ign. Mag. 8.1; 10.1-3; Philad. 6.1). Kimelmann reasoned that Ignatius could scarcely have written the things he did in or around 110-115 CE if a binding anti-Christian decree had already been in force in the synagogue as envisaged by Martyn for twenty or thirty years.

Kimelmann is not alone in his assessment of Martyn's thesis. He is followed by Shaye J. D. Cohen, Isaiah Gafni, W. Horbury, Adele Reinhartz (Reinhartz: 37-53), Daniel Boyarin, and many others, who all reject Martyn's thesis on the same or similar grounds (Katz; Van der Horst). Some, such as G. R. Beasley-Murray, reject Martyn's thesis only to the point of denying the birkat ha-minim as the catalyst for the expulsion from the synagogue and instead turn to christological proclamations (Beasley-Murray: 153ff; Biotaberg: 153-54; Esler: 16). Surprisingly, though not unexpectedly, some scholars continue to follow Martyn's lead (Wilson: 71-80; Stegemann & Stegemann: 226-31; Hays: 407-43), though it is important to point out that those who continue to accept Martyn's thesis do so in order to solve the anachronistic problem of perceived "anti-Semitism" in the Second Testament (Malina: 6).

Though one can certainly empathize with Rensberger's frustration, especially since the text of John itself is not at all clear as to why its community members were being excised from the synagogue, there exists a much more plausible, though perhaps more cryptic, sociological explanation within the Gospel of John that explains the expulsion. As the title of this paper suggests, John's community found itself in a socio-political position in which they were forced to negotiate the empire in which they lived (Labahn & Zangenberg; Richey; Carter 2005). In other words, they were forced into a conflict situation in which they had to deal with the larger Roman world of which they were a part (Turner). To demonstrate this negotiation of the empire on the part of the Johannine community, this study will limit its discussion to a few of the titles that the Johannine community gave to Jesus, titles that were simultaneously eschatological, theological, and socio-political. It is the last of these, the "socio-political," that I will emphasize in this work. After an examination of these titles, our study will incorporate the work of the political theorist James C. Scott and the theory of "antilanguages" espoused by M. A. K. Halliday in order to provide an answer as to why the Johannine community applied imperial titles to Jesus (Scott 1990; Halliday; Malina & Rohrbaugh). I shall argue that there is a plausible explanation to the expulsion from the synagogue, which adequately explains the Johannine social situation: John's community members were using "anti-language" in their "hidden transcript" as they relexicalized titles reserved for the Roman emperor and applied them to Jesus of Nazareth. In other words, as this essay shall suggest, John's community members were expelled from the synagogue because they were hailing Jesus as an alternative to Caesar. This is essentially the socio-political setting in which the Johannine community functions. It is, as I shall demonstrate below, a social situation submerged in the politics of the late first century CE in which a minority, oppressed community was forced to negotiate the larger world of the Roman empire.

The Titles of Jesus in John's Gospel

In this section we will look at a few specific titles that the Johannine community applied to Jesus. This analysis will include the following titles: (1) Father; (2) Savior of the World; (3) Son of God; and (4) Lord and God, though other titles such as "Lamb of God" and "Son of Man" could certainly be included in this analysis. The application of these titles to the figure of Jesus is the most plausible reason as to why the Johannine community was expelled from the synagogue. Let us begin, then, with the title "Father" in John's Gospel.

"Father"

The title "father" occurs around 120 times in the Gospel of John. John 10:30 and 17:11, 22 contain the most important occurrences of this title, where Jesus speaks of the close, filial relationship between himself and God, who is addressed by Jesus as father. As some scholars note, there is a sense in these verses in which it is difficult to distinguish the son from the father, especially in a text like John 10:30 where Jesus declares that he and the father are one. The fact that Jesus claims a close, filial relationship with the God of Israel as his father is of major importance when it comes to reading John against the background of Roman imperial mythology, though we should also note that Jesus's use of "father" language in John is unique to John's overall "special" christology (D'Angelo: 617). We begin, then, with a quote from Dio Cassius produced during the Augustan age. Dio Cassius in his Histories 1-18.3 reports that Augustus was hailed as a "father" during his years as emperor. He writes:

   Thus by virtue of these Republican titles they have clothed
   themselves with all the powers of the government, so that they
   actually possess all the prerogatives of kings without the usual
   title. For the appellation "Caesar" or "Augustus" confers upon
   them no actual power but merely shows in the one case that they
   are successors of their family line, and in the other the splendor
   of their rank. The name "Father" perhaps gives them a certain
   authority over us all--the authority which fathers once had over
   their children; yet it did not signify this at first, but betokened
   honor and served as an admonition both to subjects to revere
   them as they would their fathers ... [Cary: 241-43].

The point here is not too hard to see. Applied to Augustus, the title "father" afforded him honor, status, and power. There is even a sense in this passage that Augustus is to be understood as the father of the Roman people, who are, ostensibly, his children in a type of patron-client relationship (D'Angelo: 624). For instance, Epictetus, a contemporary of John who died around 135 CE, reports that the Roman empire was analogous to a familia with Caesar at its head. In his Dissertationes 1.9.7 he writes,

   Why should such a one not call himself a son of God? and why
   fear anything that happens among human beings? but kingship
   with Caesar or some other of the mighty at Rome is enough
   to enable people to live in safety and without contempt and
   fearing nothing, but to have god as our maker and father and
   guardian--will this not deliver from pains and fears?" [Oldfather:
   1.65].

Therefore, both Dio Cassius and Epictetus suggest that the Roman people are to revere Augustus as they would their own fathers who head up their respective familiae. But we must be mindful of the fact that this is not the only mention of the title "father" in the Augustan age.

In his Life of Augustus (58), Suetonius records the senate and people of Rome hailing Augustus as "father of our [lit. 'your'] country." Upon hearing this, "Augustus with tears in his eyes replies ... 'Having attained my highest hopes, members of the senate, what more have I to ask of the immortal gods than that I may retain this same unanimous approval of yours to the very end of my life?'" (Rolfe: I.215:

   When I held my thirteenth consulship, the senate, the equestrian
   order, and the entire Roman people gave me the title
   of "father of the country" and decreed that this title should
   be inscribed in the vestibule of my house, in the Julian senate
   house, and in the Augustan forum on the pedestal of the
   chariot which was set up in my honor by decree of the senate.
   At the time I wrote this document I was in my seventy-sixth
   year [Lewis & Reinhold: 19].

The title also appears in three places in The Resolution on the Death of Caius Caesar: (1) "Since on April 2 the news reached us that Gaius Caesar, son of Augustus (father of his country, pontifex maximus, guardian of the Roman Empire and protector of the world), grandson of a god ..." (2) "report this proper public action and disposition of all by delivering a notification to the Emperor Caesar Augustus father of his country, pontifex maximus, holding the tribunician power for the twenty-sixth year" and (3) "to the Emperor Caesar Augustus, pontifex maximus, holding tribunician power for the twenty-sixth year, father of his country."

Finally, Hannestad reports that in Augustus's later reign, coins and art celebrated the emperor's munificentia, as the characteristic of a good father and patron (D'Angelo: 62324). Thus, Augustus's title of pater patriae continued to take a place among his other imperial titles, though we should note that it did not come automatically but was earned by benefaction and the price of military service.

But in the Gospel of John, a text composed in an imperial setting toward the end of the first century CE, neither Augustus nor any of the Caesars, is called "father." This title is left for Jesus's father, the God of Israel. Interestingly, this is the exact same practice that the Gospel of Matthew follows, which was also written late in the first century CE. For instance, in Matthew 23:9 we witness an episode in which the Matthean Jesus says, "Call no one on earth father, for you have one father in heaven." According to scholars such as D'Angelo, Matthew's statement may be a rejection of the emperor's claim to the title "father" (629). Thus, it might be worth asking at this point what a group of Jews and Romans in Ephesus would have heard if John's community was going around proclaiming that the real "father of the world" was Jesus's father and that, according to John 10:30, Jesus and his father shared in a bond that makes them one? Is it possible that Jews and Romans in Ephesus would only have heard a christological message as so many scholars think, or would they have heard John's message as a challenge to the "pater familiae of Rome?" As we move on through the other titles ascribed to Jesus, we will see a pattern emerge, which continues to suggest that to John and his community these imperial titles belong, no longer to the emperor of Rome, but to a new leader, Jesus of Nazareth.

"Savior of the World"

There is one important text in John 4 where a Samaritan crowd hails Jesus as "the Savior of the World" (Labahn: 148-50; Koester). A number of texts from the Roman world declare the emperor to be a savior (Wenland: 335-53).

First of all, in his Roman History 53.16, Dio Cassius reports:

   Now, Caesar had received many privileges previously, when
   the question of declining the sovereignty and that of apportioning
   the provinces were under discussion. For the right to fasten
   laurels to the front of the imperial residence and to hang the
   civic crown above the doors was then voted him to symbolize
   the fact that he was always victorious over enemies and savior
   of the citizens [Cary: 233-35].

Another text informs us about the adoption of Augustus's birthday as New Year's Day. It reads:

   It was decreed by the Greeks in the province of Asia, on motion
   of the high priest Apollonius son of Menophilus, of Azanium:
   Whereas the providence which divinely ordered our lives
   created with zeal and munificence the most perfect good for
   our lives by producing Augustus and filling him with virtue for
   the benefaction of [human]kind, blessing us and those after
   us with a savior who put an end to war and established peace
   [Wengst: 9].

This text in particular is of great interest for the Gospel of John, for it suggests that the reason Augustus is a savior has to do with the belief that he put an end to war and established peace (Garnsey & Sailer: 51; Lewis & Reinhold: 80; Payne: 181-208). Within John's Gospel, Jesus is not just the savior of an empire nor of a people, but he is in fact the savior of the kosmos or world. This is one of John's subtle ways of upping the ante and upstaging the emperors of Rome. From John's perspective it seems that the Roman emperors are capable of offering only an awkward pax et securitas to their people, and, as Horsley points out, this peace and security often comes about by the heralding of the sword (Horsley: 43). But, in John's eyes, Jesus's peace transcends the boundaries of empire and encompasses the world, even the universe (Marrow). It is a peace that is offered to "all things," including creation. Furthermore, it is important for us to recall Jesus' own words concerning his peace.

In John 14:27 Jesus is quick to tell the disciples that he is the giver of true peace. In fact, he notes that his peace is not the peace that comes from the world. As he says, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the kosmos gives to you do I give to you" (my translation). The kosmos or world/universe of 14:27 includes the Roman empire (Lewis & Reinhold: 42). What Jesus offers to his disciples is far greater than the peace offered by the universe, which, of course, includes Rome. Again, one can see here a type of upping the ante in John in which Jesus' peace transcends the peace of the known world yet includes the world and what lies beyond it.

In John 16:33 Jesus makes it clear that the type of peace he offers is found only in him. He says, "I have said this to you so that in me you may have peace." He goes on, much las in 14:27, to contrast his peace with the persecution the disciples will face from the kosmos. Yet, there are still a few more texts worth noting from the Roman world that declare the emperor as a savior.

One of these texts is an inscription dating to 48 BCE that reads as follows: Julius Caesar is honored as "the god manifest (descended) from Ares and Aphrodite ... and the general savior of human life" (I. Eph. 2.251; Wengst: 9). Another is found back in the Res Gestae, encountered above, where Augustus describes his clemency in terms of a savior figure (Res Gestae 3.2; Sherk: par. 26). Furthermore, a law concerning an imperial festival from about 15 CE begins this way: "The agronomos shall celebrate the first day for God Caesar, son of a god, Augustus, the Savior and Deliverer ..." (Sherk: 32; Harland: 111). Another inscription pertaining to Nero informs us that Nero is the lord of the entire world (Horsley: par. 78). Finally, an inscription of note is found on a statue base, which honors Claudius with the following: "Tiberius Claudius Caesar Sebastos Gemanicus god manifest, savior of our people too" (Harrison: 83). If we place John's Jesus, the "Savior of the World," alongside these political, propagandistic proclamations of the Roman empire, we can begin to imagine how John's community understood Jesus. Again, unlike the Roman emperors, Jesus did not come just to save "a people" nor "a nation," for his task was far greater! No, Jesus would be the savior of the world, and, ironically, this would mean saving Rome while simultaneously saving the world from Roman imperial power. One can begin to imagine here how those outside John's community might have perceived this type of rhetoric. Did outsiders view it as subversive speech? Did they see it as insurrectionist speech? Did they know that John's community believed in a competing savior, one who competed directly with the emperor of Rome? The answer is likely a resounding "YES" to all of the above.

"Son of God"

Perhaps the most anti-imperial rhetoric of John's Gospel is found in John's passion narrative, especially in the encounter between Jesus and Pilate (Carter 2003). Though I cannot discuss this episode in great detail, I can highlight a few of its salient anti-imperialist points. In John 19:7 and 19:12-16 there are two instances where "the Jews" (or "Jerusalem elites") stand before Pilate and accuse Jesus of appropriating titles to himself that were reserved for the Roman emperor. John 19:7 reports, "The Jews answered Pilate, 'We have a law, and according to that law he [Jesus] ought to die because he has made himself the Son of God." Pilate's reaction to the Jews' query is one of utter amazement, for when he heard the Jews say this, "he was all the more afraid ... and ... entered his headquarters again and said to Jesus, 'Where are you from?'" (19:8-9). The reaction is not normal, especially if all the Jews were claiming is that Jesus declared some type of messianic awareness by referring to himself as "the Son of God" (Flusser). Below the surface of this remark, something else lurks.

After interrogating Jesus, Pilate sought to release him (19:12-16). At this point in John's narrative, the same characters, "the Jews," raise questions about Pilate's leadership. In fact, they chant, "If you release this man, you are not Caesar's friend. Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar" (19:12; Saller: 43ff; Barret). After an interchange, Pilate cries out, "Behold your King!" and "the Jews," now identified with the "chief priests," respond: "Crucify him," and, "We have no king but Caesar!" (19:14-15). The so-called "Jews" or "Jerusalem elites" in John 19 seem to be telling Pilate that Jesus has claimed for himself a position and a title that rightly belong to Caesar, who, as we have already seen, is often referred to by the title "Son of God" in imperial mythology. In addition to the texts that have already been examined, it is important to note that in the first-century world the title "Son of God" was not just a theological epithet. As Carter has aptly shown, it was particularly, though not exclusively, associated with the emperor Augustus (Carter 2001: 69). Kim has shown that it was also used as a title to refer to other emperors including Domitian (Kim). In fact, Statius describes Domitian as "beloved of the gods" (Silvae 4.2.14-15; Johnson; Pobee; Myers: 393-94). All things considered, Pilate must have understood the accusation of "the Jews," for John reports that he became "more afraid" (19:8b). Whatever the exact meaning of the phrase "more afraid" it is possible that at this juncture in the narrative Pilate came to the realization that the previous conversation he had with Jesus, found in John 18:33-38, in which Jesus says, "My kingdom is not of this world," was in fact a conversation about two contrasting empires, and, perhaps, two contrasting emperors (Cassidy 1992: 44-50). Furthermore, it is important to note that in these narratives, the Jesus never denies any of the accusations of "the Jews" nor of Pilate. Never once does Jesus deny applying to himself the title "Son of God," nor any of the other titles previously mentioned in this essay, even though some of these titles may be the product of the Johannine community and not of the historical Jesus per se (Giblin; Rohrbaugh). In fact, when Pilate asks Jesus whether or not he is the "King of the Jews" (18:33), Jesus begins to interrogate Pilate in a challenge-riposte manner and asks him on what authority he claims that Jesus is the "King of the Jews" (18:34). When pushed to the extreme, Jesus simply tells Pilate: you say that I am a king (18:37). However, this hardly amounts to denial! It is more like subterfuge.

What all of this suggests is that Jesus' sovereignty has somehow come into direct conflict with the sovereignty of Rome. For John to say in 20:31 that the purpose of his Gospel is that those who read--or hear--it may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing they may have life in Jesus' name, is essentially to deny that there are any other "sons of god" out there, including the ones that come from Rome (i.e., the emperors).

In the trial scene, John goes further and takes on the ruling authorities (i.e., "The Jews" or "Jerusalem elites") with asperity. In 19:12-16 the chief priests, identified in the trial narrative with "the Jews," try to appease Pilate by saying, "We have no king but Caesar!" (v 15b), a rather troubling remark considering that the contours of Jewish monotheism in this period suggest that there is only one God, who is the one true king. The chief priests, who perhaps are coded figures for the synagogue authorities that expelled the Johannine community, did not want Pilate to conclude that all Jews believed Jesus to be the "Son of God" and the Roman emperor not to be a "son of God." Some light can be shed on all of this by noting the numerous studies that have appeared over the past decade or so exploring how the politics of first-century priesthood were intertwined with the politics of Rome (Hanson & Oakman: 59-99; Hanson; Goodman; Saldarini; Stemberger; Rhoads; Horsley; Price). These studies delineate the relationship between the Sadducean priests and the Roman authorities. One of the things they unanimously point out is that the patron-client relationship between the Romans and the Sadducees was more or less dysfunctional (Evans: 532-33). In other words, there existed little reciprocity on the part of the Romans (Saller: 19-28). The dysfunctional nature of the relationship between the Jerusalem priests and the Roman officials is brought out by Josephus. He notes that when the high priest needed his robes to officiate he had no choice but to go and ask permission for his robes from the Romans in order to use them (Ant. 20.11; 15.11.4; 18.4.3; 20.1.1). Furthermore, he informs us that temple funds had been used to fund the reconstruction and repairs on the temple begun by Herod, which continued for several decades after his death. When work on the temple was finally completed in the early 60s, the treasury supplied funds to have part of the city paved with stones (Ant. 20.219-22).

As far as the title "Son of God" goes, then, the trial scene in John's Gospel depicts one of the most hostile interactions between Jesus and the Roman empire. If finalized in Ephesus, it is important to ask how the Johannine community (and the Gospel of John) understood John 18 and 19 in their immediate social milieu. Did they see the motif of two contrasting kingdoms? Did they recognize that the true "Son of God" was Jesus and not the emperor of Rome? Furthermore, what would those outside John's community have heard? As we inch toward an answer to such questions, one title remains for us to explore.

"Lord and God"

As John's Gospel draws to a close, a familiar story emerges in chapter 20 often dubbed "The Story of Doubting Thomas" or something similar. After Thomas explains that he will not believe in Jesus's resurrection unless he has physical proof of it, he touches Jesus's hands and the opening in his side (20:27). Immediately, Thomas cries out, "My Lord and my God!" There are, of course, numerous parallels to Thomas's statement in extant Jewish literature. Sirach 23:1 includes addresses to God as "lord, father, and ruler of my life," while 23:4 calls him, "lord, father, and God of my life." In fact, the great rabbinic Abinu Malkenu proclaims, "Our father our king, we have no king but you / Our father our king, for your own sake have mercy on (cf. 1 Chr 29:10 [LXX]; Wis 2:16-20; 11:10; and 14:23; Tobit 13:4; Jub. 1:24, 28; 4Q372 1.16; and 4Q460; Schuller 1990; 1992). However, in an apt turn of phrase, Whitacre suggests that Thomas gets the "punch line" of the entire Gospel (Whitacre: 485). As he observes,

   Thomas's confession of Jesus as my Lord and my God is yet
   another climax in this Gospel. Jesus has invited him to catch up
   with the others in their new stage of faith, and he shoots past
   them and heads to the top of the class.

Whitacre certainly sees the theological point of this confession, "Jesus is God," but he fails to set this confession against John's imperial background. What happens if this is done?

First of all, calling Jesus "God" is obvious, though as D'Angelo notes (624), calling Jesus "God" may be a slight against Zeus. Regardless, against John's imperial background the Gospel hits one of its final climaxes with the note that "Jesus is God and Caesar is not," which is a standard cry of Second Temple Judaism (R. A. Horsley: 83).

In any case, what about the term "Lord?" In the Septuagint the term for "Lord," kyrios, stands in for the unsayable Tetragrammaton, YHWH (Wright: 169; Foerster). Its history throughout Rome's imperial period is quite complex. Phrases such as "lord god," "lord king," "lord Caesar," "god and lord king," etc., ceased at the very latest in the reign of Tiberius. One such text, from either the period of Augustus or that of Tiberius, speaks of the emperor as "lord Augustus, savior" (Ditt. Or. 606; Foerster 1965). In the early part of the imperial period, the title "lord" was used as a brief summary of the emperor's position in unemphatic phrases and not in solemn and lengthy formulae. Furthermore, in this period it tends to be employed for the purpose of dating (P. Oxy. I.37.5ff.; Foerster 1965) In P. Oxy. II.246 there is an interesting example with reference to Nero. Here a small farmer dates his report by the year of Nero's reign, and the farmer uses the same form in the attestation of his information found in lines 11ff. and 24ff.

By the time of Trajan, however, things began to change. In Trajan's day the addition of the term "lord" to the full imperial title became much more common. It was also during this time that the word "our" was increasingly added to the term "lord" making for the interesting "Our lord" (Ditt. Or. 677.1ff.; P. Geiss 7.10ff.; Foerster).

Divinity combined with the universality of dominion is even more plainly expressed in the inscription Ditt. Syll. (3) 814.31, which honors Nero as "lord of all the world" (Foerster: 1055). Closer to John's day, Domitian not only allowed himself and his spouse to be honored in the theater with "Good fortune our lord and mistress," but he also made it mandatory that official letters begin with "Our master and our god bids that this be done!" (Suetonius, Lives 13.1). The point of this seems to be that when a person proclaims an emperor as "lord" he has bound himself as to a god (Foerster: 1057). For Thomas, then, to call Jesus "my Lord and my God" signals to the reader--or hearer--of John's Gospel that true allegiance belongs with Jesus and not with the emperor. As Whitacre suggests, Thomas truly does get the punch-line in the gospel of John!

But why would the Johannine community even engage in this type of title swapping? Why would they risk their necks by hailing Jesus of Nazareth with titles that rightly belonged to the emperor of Rome? Here is where sociological and socio-political models help us the most.

Language and Anti-Language in the Johannine Community

J. M. Henslin, a sociologist, defines language as a "system of symbols that can be combined in an infinite number of ways and can represent not only objects but also abstract thought" (Henslin: 44). Language allows human experience to be cumulative, it provides a social or shared past, it provides a social or shared future, it allows shared perspectives or understandings, and it allows complex, shared, goal-directed behavior.

In the 1930s, two anthropologists, Edward Sapir and Benjamin Whorl, noted that the Hopi Indians of the south-western United States had no words to distinguish among the past, the present, and the future (see Henslin: 47). Other languages distinguish systematically between these three epochs, but not the Hopi language. From these observations, Sapir and Whorl coined what is known today as the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, which states, "Language has embedded in it ways of looking at the world and it creates ways of thinking and perceiving (Sapir; Whorf). Thus, thinking and perception are not only expressed through language, but are also shaped by language. When we learn a language, we learn not only words, but also a particular way of thinking and perceiving reality.

Reality is also shaped by "anti-languages." According to M. A. K. Halliday (570-71), "anti-languages" are part and parcel of an "anti-society." The entire process is similar to Orweli's magisterial and still abundantly relevant work 1984. Anti-language is akin to "Doublespeak" (i.e., "War is Peace" and "Peace is War") and an anti-society is similar to the resistance movement in 1984 that has infiltrated the "Inner Party" or Big Brother. One of the main features of anti-language is its ability to relexicalize a language. It involves the "exchange of meaning" or what Bernstein calls the "sociolinguistic coding orientation." Anti-languages are born in societies where human beings are reduced to "things" (Halliday: 573). They often produce a type of "second life" for the oppressed human, and this "second life" gives way to an alternative reality. The way of maintaining this alternative reality is through anti-language or the relexicalization of an existing language (Berger & Luckmann: 172-73).

Eventually anti-language among an oppressed minority group living within a majority society will develop a counter-reality. This reality is set up in opposition to the established norms of the ruling society (Halliday: 576), and the counter-reality that the minority group produces also creates variants in the language, or, as Labov suggests, creates "alternative ways of saying the same thing." Thus, as Halliday observes (576), "An anti-language is a metaphor for an everyday language; and this metaphorical quality appears all the way up and down the system." Eventually, anti-language creates disparate traditions.

Scott has coined two important terms: the "great" tradition and the "little" tradition. The great tradition is part of the public transcript (Scott 1977). It contains a construction of the world as seen by the ruling parties, usually, the majority. It is more often than not centered in urban areas and is disseminated from there to the villages of the country-side. Usually, the great tradition is written down. As Herzog points out, "In an illiterate culture, writing has power" (Herzog: 42). The writing down of the great tradition, then, enhances its authority. The great tradition is also controlled by its patrons and guardians.

The patrons and guardians of the great tradition shoulder the responsibility for the interpretation of the tradition. Often, these guardians are part of the hereditary, sacral elites (e.g, high priests) or their retainers (e.g., scribes or a political faction such as the Pharisees). According to Scott, the great tradition, while propagating a "social ideology of patronage," would usually legitimize "inequalities in material and cultural resources as fore-ordained" and celebrate "the positive value of stratification" (Scott 1985: 14).

As Scott also notes (1985: 7), the farther down the ladder of social stratification one moves, the less binding the great tradition becomes. In a similar way, the farther one moves away from the center toward the periphery, the weaker the great tradition becomes. Eventually, space exists in abundance for the creation of the little tradition, which Scott defines (1985: 8) as "the distinctive patterns of belief and behavior which are valued by the peasantry of an agrarian society." The little tradition expresses the values of peasants and incorporates their gaps and selective appropriation of the great tradition in a way that sustains their life, culture and values. The little tradition evolves into a resource for resisting the imposition of the great tradition by the ruling elites. In spite of their determined efforts, elites are usually unable to impose their definition of reality and social world on peasant villagers. Furthermore, the little tradition is usually expressed in what Scott dubs the "hidden transcript."

The hidden transcript includes discourse that takes place "offstage," beyond direct observation by power holders (Scott 1990: 4). It is derivative in the sense that it consists of those offstage speeches, gestures, and practices that confirm, contradict, or inflect what appears in the public transcript. It includes such characteristics as: (1) being specific to a given social site and to a particular set of factors. (2) containing not only speech acts but a whole range of practices, (3) evincing a constant struggle between dominant and subordinate (Scott 1990: 14).

In contrast to the hidden transcript there is the "public transcript," related to the great tradition. The public transcript is an indifferent guide to the opinion of the subordinates. It is written down, and it is what the masses, at least on paper, are supposed to believe and give adherence to (Scott 1990: 3). When applied to John's Gospel, the notions of "anti-language," "public versus hidden transcripts," and "the little versus the great tradition" tell us much about why the Johannine community gave titles to Jesus that were simultaneously ascribed to the emperor of Rome. These notions also explain why the Johannine community was expelled from the synagogue. But why would the Johannine community want to make its hidden transcript public? Surely this is risking the community's neck! There are, of course, plausible reasons for this.

Scott gives us three reasons as to why a subordinate group would choose to make its hidden transcript public (Scott 1990:157-60). First he suggests that in a sectarian spirit fostered by resentment, subordinate groups are likely to envison an eventual reversal or leveling of worldly fortunes and rank in order to emphasize solidarity, equality, mutual aid, honesty, simplicity, and emotional fervor. In other words, what often survives in oppressed, subordinate groups is largely dependent on what they decide to accept and transmit. Second, subordinate groups make their hidden transcripts public because they may wish to find ways of expressing dissonant views through their cultural life. Their alternative society is a type of riposte to an official culture that is almost invariably demeaning. Finally, Scott suggests that what permits subordinate groups to undercut the authorized cultural norms is the fact that cultural expression by virtue of its polyvalent symbolism and metaphor lends itself to disguise. In other words, "By the subtle use of codes [subordinates] can insinuate into a ritual, a pattern of dress, a song, a story, meanings that are accessible to one intended audience and opaque to another audience the actors wish to exclude." (Scott 1990: 158) Furthermore, there is an intense desire for subordinate groups, such as the Johannine community, to express publicly what is found in the hidden transcript, even, if as Scott suggests, that form of expression "must use metaphors and allusions in the interest of safety" (Scott 1990: 164) It seems, then, that the Johannine community, a subordinate group, felt compelled to make their hidden transcript known. They felt, in other words, compelled to let the synagogue and the Roman authorities know that their story suggested an alternative ruler, an alternative emperor. Once this information became public, the Johannine community not only found itself in a drastically different social situation, being expelled from the synagogue, but they also found themselves confronted by the imperial powers of Rome.

Persecution in John's Gospel: A MULTI-Level Drama

Most scholars would readily agree that the Johannine community faced persecution from a group of synagogue leaders, as is clearly indicated by John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2. In fact, Esler (16) suggests that all four Gospels provide us with evidence of trouble and an eventual split with the synagogue, citing Luke 6:22, Acts 28:25-31, and Matthew 21:33-46 as precedent for such a thesis. It is important for us, however, to take a closer look at John 16:2, for it does not fall completely in line with the expulsion from the synagogue mentioned in John 9:22 and 12:42, nor any other mention of synagogue trouble found in the synoptic Gospels. Instead, John 16:2 tends to speak of two different persecutions of the Johannine community instead of just one. It reads, "They will put you out of the synagogues; and an hour is coming when those who kill [you] will think that by doing so they are offering a service as to a god [or to God]" (my translation).

John 16:2 relates a type of future persecution that is likely intended, not for Jesus's disciples (e.g., the traditional twelve, etc.), but for his future followers. In this case, the future followers are the Johannine community. The text itself tells of an expulsion, presented here as a future event. The future tense of 16:2b is what is known in Greek as a futuristic present, which suggests that the future persecution of the Johannine community is already beginning to take place (Leon-Dufour: 205; Hanna: 178). Those who bring about this future persecution will think that they are offering a service "as to a god" or "to God." But who are the ones in 16:2 who bring about this persecution of the Johannine community?

Most commentators on John's Gospel combine the persecution of 16:2 with the persecution already noted in 9:22 and 12:42. In other words, the ones persecuting the Johannine community are "the Jews" or "Jerusalem elites." Though 16:2a may betray knowledge of Jewish persecution with its "those who put you out of the synagogues," it is not necessary to see Jewish persecution as the background to 16:2b. It is possible that 16:2b extends Jesus' line of thought regarding persecution into another arena, namely, into the arena of persecution by the Roman political elites (Moloney: 434-35; Cassidy 2001:41).

Only a few scholars have even hinted at the possibility of Roman persecution lying behind 16:2b (Cassidy 1992: 110-13; Brown 1966). Most scholars object to this particular reading on the grounds that latreia ("cultic service" or "service") restricts the killing to "the Jews." (Moloney: 435) The problem with this interpretation of latreia is that it is far too narrow in scope, for one can easily cite numerous texts that make use of the pagan understanding of latreia as "acts of piety done in the service of religion" (e.g., Augustine, De Civitate Dei V:15, MPL 41:160; Strathmann). Still, most scholars tend to look at Jewish practices to solve the riddle of 16:2b (e.g., Num. Rab. 21; m. Sank 9:6; Josephus, Ant. 20:200; Mart. Poly. 13:1; Justin, Dial. 95:4; 133:6; Culpepper: 216-17; Hoskyns: 482-83; Carson: 531; den Boer: 61-62). Others suggest that 16:2b may be a memory of some form of a persecution that took place while the Johannine community was still a Jewish-Christian sect (Martyn). Some, such as Lindars, stress the future tense of the verbs in 16:2b and argue for events in 132-135 CE as an "alarming possibility" for the background to 16:2b, while referencing attacks on Christians during the Bar Kochba rebellion referred to in Justin's Dialogue (Lindars). It is possible, however, that the actual answer may be found in the Gospel of John itself.

John 16:2a seems to present a situation in which Jesus first speaks of a persecution by synagogue authorities followed in 16:2b with a persecution by Roman authorities. 16:2b, then, pertains to a situation in which the execution of Christians occurs at the order of pagan rulers who want to propitiate their pagan gods; hence the latreia of 16:2b. In other words, 16:2b has nothing to do with the persecution of the Johannine community by Jewish authority figures, but it has everything to do with the persecution of the Johannine community by Roman authority figures. For instance, something such as Trajan's persecution of Christians who refused to acknowledge the pagan gods he considered responsible for his victories over the Dacians and the Scythians may lurk in the background of 16:2b (Cassidy 2001: 41). But, the matter is all the more pressing when the final chapter of John is taken into account.

John 21:18-19 envisons the Roman authorities as those who will someday be responsible for Peter's martyrdom. Though Jesus' words in 21:18 are somewhat allusive, the final redactor of John's Gospel painfully clarifies what 21:18 means in v 19, where the writer comments on Peter's death:

   "Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you girded
   yourself and walked where you would; but when you are old,
   you will stretch out your hands, and another will gird you and
   carry you where you do not wish to go." (This he said to show
   by what death he was to glorify God.) And after this he said
   to him, "Follow me."

John 21:18-19 is all about crucifixion; the images are crystal clear. Verse 19 indicates that Peter's crucifixion will glorify God, just as earlier in John Jesus' death by crucifixion glorified himself (Cotterell: 804; Folarin). Having reconciled with Peter, the risen Jesus indicates that Peter is now called to follow him in a specific way--death by crucifixion. The point for us to note is that in John's world, martyrdom by means of crucifixion is unalterably martyrdom at the hands of the Roman authorities (Josephus, Ant. 20.197; Cassidy 2001: 42).

When John's Gospel reached its final form in the 80s-90s CE, the only authority with the power to crucify was the imperial power of Rome. As Cassidy relates, "In effect, then, Jesus here makes a significant prediction that Peter's death will be identical with Jesus' own manner of death: crucifixion at the hands of the Roman authorities." (Cassidy 2001: 42) In all likelihood the Romans began to persecute the Johannine Christians shortly after the Johannine community made its hidden transcript public. This is not as anomalous as one may think; precedents for this type of behavior existed in the larger imperial world.

Recent studies of early Christian communities have confirmed that outsiders saw the early Christian movements in places like Ephesus, where the Johannine community was likely located in its later years, as voluntary associations (Ascough 1998, 2004; Harland; Tobin). We cannot enter into a lengthy discussion here about the nature of voluntary associations, but it is important to note that voluntary associations, though legally recognized by the Roman empire, had a tendency to become political clubs (Ascough 2003: 43-44). The implications of this are enormous for under standing the Johannine community.

Ascough reports (2003:42) that those outside a voluntary association did not view members of an association as all that honorable. The individuals often least impressed by the associations were the civic leaders and imperial governors of Rome. According to Cotter, it was during the Roman period that voluntary associations experienced sporadic official resistance or persecution. During Augustus's reign (28 BCE-14 CE) a law was passed that required every association to be sanctioned by the senate or emperor (Ascough 2003: 42). The associations fared no better under Tiberius (14-37 CE), Gaius (36-41 CE), and Claudius (41-54 CE). According to Dio Cassius, Claudius "disbanded the clubs" (60.6.6). Nero (54-68 CE) also acted against "illegal" associations, showing that for a time they had continued to exist unabated. There is an interesting exchange between Pliny, governor of Bithynia, and the Emperor Trajan over the formation of a firemen's guild in the second century CE that illustrates what happens when an association or club goes from being just another association to being one with a political edge.

In writing to Trajan, Pliny in his Letters 10.33.3 asks:

   Will you, Sir, consider whether you think a company of firemen
   might be formed, limited to 150 members? I will see that
   no one shall be admitted who is not genuinely a fireman, and
   that the privileges granted shall not be abused: it will not be
   difficult to keep such small numbers under observation [Melmoth:
   319].

Trajan's response is timorous, but worth noting. It reads:

   You may very well have had the idea that it should be possible
   to form a company of firemen at Nicomedia on the model of
   those existing elsewhere, but we must remember that it is societies
   like these which have been responsible for the political
   disturbances in your province, particularly in towns. If people
   assemble for a common purpose, whatever name we give them
   and for whatever reason, they soon turn into a political association
   [Melmoth: 319-21; italics are mine].

The Johannine community was likely seen by the Roman empire as a benign voluntary association that suddenly became political. The political nature of the Johannine community or association is most evident in its making public its hidden transcript and its use of anti-languages. Furthermore, the Gospel of John itself indicates that the community or assocation was in fact being persecuted on two fronts: (1) by the so-called "Jews" or "Jerusalem elites" and (2) by the Roman elites. The political nature of the Johannine community is best summed up by Caiaphas's remark in John 11:48, "If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him and the Romans will come and destroy our place and our nation!" The Johannine community apparently continued with the same subversive political program as did Jesus.

Putting the Various Pieces Together: A Modest Proposal For a Conclusion

Returning for a moment to Rensberger's study, Johannine Faith and Liberating Community, a potent line from this study stands out in which Rensberger remarks, "With John, the actual conflicts are below the surface of the text ... and it is only now becoming possible to hope that knowledge of them will bear fruit for the study of Johannine theology" (Rensberger: 16). As we have seen, much of what John says is found in the form of hidden transcript made public, and if we are to properly understand the Johannine socio-political situation, we must be willing to entertain those parts of the Gospel of John that lie below the surface of the text.

When we look at the social situation of the Johannine community, we find that the social situation is bound up with the expulsion from the synagogue and the persecution of the community found in John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2. The expulsion and persecution likely occurred on a local level in the city of Ephesus, but if it occurred in Palestine proper, the imperial implications of John would still apply, for the imperial cult was well known in Herodian Palestine (Overman, Olive, & Nelson). It is my opinion, however, that the rhetoric of John fits best in an Ephesian setting where the imperial cult was more prominent than in Palestine proper. As Marco points out, Asia was divided into 13 areas, each called a conventus, a judicial assize district centered on a large city (Marco 1980: 658-97). Ephesus was the center of one such conventus with approximately thirteen further cities that were assize centers within the conventus. The proconsul held an annual assize or court day in Ephesus and in each of the assize centers. In addition, a conventus could function as an administrative area for tax collection, army recruitment, and the composition of the provincial assembly. Furthermore, Ephesus was home to a temple of the Sebastoi, established there in the late first century CE and an Augusteion in the upper agora. In other words, the imperial cult was well known at Ephesus.

Drawing on our study above, we see that the social situation of the Johannine community was one in which the community was an oppressed, subordinate anti-society that believed that Jesus of Nazareth was an alternative ruler to the emperor of Rome. As we saw above, the Johannine community chose to express this belief in the titles they gave to Jesus, titles that were also part of the imperial mythology of Rome. Because of their subordinate position, the Johannine community felt compelled to make their hidden transcript public. Once this was done, the first to hear of this was the synagogue and the synagogue leadership (Levine 1996; Binder). This is why the Gospel of John records the expulsion from the synagogue, especially in 9:22 and 12:42, and possibly in 16:2a. The leaders of the synagogue would have had good reason to want to expel the members of the Johannine community (Rajak & Noy: 393-429; Levine 1998).

First of all, slights against the emperor would likely be viewed as acts of treason. The so-called Lese Majeste (or "crime), which expounds the Roman law on treason, was revised under Augustus to embrace affronts to the majesty of the emperor. As Tacitus in Annals 1.72.73 relates:

   Tiberius gave new impetus to the law of treason. This law had
   the same name in olden times, but other matters came under
   its jurisdiction--betrayal of an army, or inciting the plebs to
   sedition, in short, any public malfeasance which diminished
   the majesty of the Roman people [Lewis & Reinhold: 92].

We should note, however, that Tacitus continues by telling us: "Deeds alone were subject to accusation then, words went unpunished." But Epictetus in his Dissertationes 4.13.5 informs us:

   In this fashion the rash are ensnared by the soldiers in Rome.
   A soldier, dressed like a civilian, sits down by your side and
   begins to speak ill of Caesar, and then you, too, just as though
   you had received from him some guarantee of good faith in
   the fact that he began the abuse, tell likewise everything you
   think, and the next thing is--you are led off to prison in chains
   [Oldfather: II. 431].

So, it seems that both words and deeds could render one a traitor. If a Roman who "speaks ill" of Caesar is charged with treason and led off to prison, surely a community or association whose members proclaim an alternative emperor through coded rhetoric and anti-language would suffer a similar or even worse fate. Thus, the Leaders of the synagogue, who were well aware of Rome's power and especially its military might (manifested, e.g., in the disastrous Jewish war of 66-70 CE), would have wanted nothing to do with synagogue members like the Johannine Christians, who proclaimed a rival to the throne of the emperor. But, the social situation of the Johannine community is of interest to use for more than the expulsion from the synagogue.

As we saw above, John 16:2b, along with 11:48 and John 21, seems to imply a persecution of the Johannine community by the Roman elites. Peter is told that he will be crucified by the Romans, Caiphas warns that if Jesus is not stopped, the Romans will come and destroy the temple and the nation, and Jesus warns of a future persecution in which those who kill members of the Johannine community will think they are offering a service as to a god. The drama of the Gospel of John, then, is much more complex than is evident in the mere few levels often addressed by scholars. It is more like four or five or six simultaneous levels all working at once. The level that scholars have often missed is the socio-political one. But it is precisely this level that needs to be added back into the mix if we are to properly analyze the social situation of the Johannine community, a subordinate, oppressed anti-society that was expelled from the synagogue in Ephesus and persecuted by the Romans for proclaiming that Jesus of Nazareth was a rival to the emperor of Rome.

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David Reed is a PhD Candidate at the University of St. Michael's College, Toronto. and an adjunct instructor in the Department of Religion at the Wright State University, Dayton, Ohio. He is the author of "Saving Judas"--A Social Scientific Approach to Matthew 27:3-10, Biblical Technology Bulletin 35:2 (Summer 2005), 51-59, which received honorable mention as "must read" material in Christian Century. Currently he is engaged in research for a dissertation on the Gospel of John and Banditry.