The beginnings of the church

BS 2410 .S4

Scott r Ernest Findlay, 1868-

The beginnings of the church

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHUECH

THE BEGINNINGS OF
THE CHURCH

BY/

ERNEST F. SCOTT, D.D.

FBOFES80B OP NEW TESTAMENT CBITICISM IN QUEEN's THEOLOGICAL COLLXGE,

KINGSTON, CANADA

AUTHOB OF "the FOUBTH GOSPEL; ITS PUBPOSE AND THEOLOGY,"

"the KINGDOM AND THE MESSIAH," ETC.

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1914

Copyright, 1914, bt
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

Published September, 1914

THE ELY FOUNDATION

The Ely Lectures rest on the foundation estab-
lished by Mr. Zebulon Stiles Ely, in the following
terms :

"The undersigned gives the sum of ten thousand dollars
to the Union Theological Seminary of the City of New York
to found a lectureship in the same, the title of which shall be
The Elias P. Ely Lectures on the Evidences of Christianity.

"The course of lectures given on this Foundation is to com-
prise any topics serving to estabhsh the proposition that Chris-
tianity is a religion from God, or that it is the perfect and final
form of rehgion for man.

"Among the subjects discussed may be: The Nature and
Need of a Revelation; The Character and Influence of Christ
and His Apostles; The Authenticity and Credibility of the
Scriptures, Miracles, and Prophecy; The Diffusion and Bene-
fits of Christianity; and The Philosophy of Rehgion in its
Relations to the Christian System.

"Upon one or more of such subjects a course of public lec-
tures shall be given, at least once in two or three years. The
appointment of the lecturers is to be by the concurrent action
of the Faculty and Directors of said Seminary and the under-
signed, and it shall ordinarily be made two years in advance."

PREFACE

The present book consists of a series of lectures
delivered in January and February of this year at
Union Theological Seminary, New York, in terms
of the Ely Foundation. For the many kindnesses
which I received during my visit to the Seminary
I desire to express my warmest thanks to Presi-
dent Francis Brown and the members of the staff.
To Dr. J. E. Frame, Professor in New Testa-
ment Literature, I am further indebted for much
helpful criticism of the lectures in the course of
their delivery.

My object has been to investigate the aims and
beliefs of the Christian community in the time
preceding the advent of Paul. No discussion of
this dark period can be other than tentative; and
I am well aware that many of my conclusions are
open to question. They may serve, however, to
suggest new lines of inquiry into problems of car-
dinal importance which have not yet been ade-
quately explored. A detailed study of that ini-
tial period is more than ever necessary in view of
the more recent developments of New Testament

vii

vm PREFACE

criticism. Not a few scholars of the foremost
rank are seeking to explain almost the whole con-
tent of Christian doctrine from the Hellenistic
beliefs and practices to which the new religion
was gradually assimilated. It may indeed be
granted that these influences were operative from
an early time, and have left deep traces even on
the teaching of Paul; but they ought not to be
emphasised in such a manner as to allow no place
for a more primitive Christianity. Between the
death of Jesus and the beginning of the gentile
mission there was a momentous interval, in which
the church grew up in its native Jewish soil, un-
affected by alien modes of thinking. I have
sought to concentrate attention on this fact, and
to estimate its bearing on the genesis of Christian
belief.

In my attempt to interpret the primitive ideas
I set out from the hypothesis that Jesus imparted
his message in the terms of Jewish apocalyptic.
The application of this theory to the Gospel nar-
rative has already led to many fruitful results,
but its significance for the early history of the
church has not yet been fully appreciated. I have
tried to show that the apocalyptic conceptions of
Jesus were normative also for his disciples, and
found their natural outcome in the building up
of the Christian community.

PREFACE ix

My thanks are due to my friend and colleague,
Professor William Morgan, D.D., who has ren-
dered me valuable assistance in the correction of
the proofs.

E. F. Scott.

Kingston, Canada,
March 31, 1914.

CONTENTS

LECTURE PAGE

I. The First Days 1

II. The Ecclesia 29

III. The Gift of the Spirit 57

IV. Jesus as Lord 84

V. The Relation of the Church to Judaism 109

VI. Life in the Primitive Community . . . 133

VII. Baptism 162

VIII. The Lord's Supper 192

IX. Stephen 224

X. The Earliest Christianity 251

Index 281

THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH
LECTURE I

THE FIRST DAYS

Christianity, it has been finely said, grew up
in the dark. A few years after the death of Jesus
it had its roots securely planted and was spread-
ing over Palestine and throwing its offshoots
into the surrounding gentile world. It had de-
veloped customs and institutions of its own and
a theology that was already rich and many-sided.
But the initial period of which this wonderful
growth was the outcome is almost hidden from
us. Within a generation the church had appar-
ently lost the record of its earlier history and
could only replace it by a few doubtful traditions.
All had come about so gradually, by a process so
obscure and fortuitous, that even the surviving
actors were now uncertain as to the true course
and significance of the events.

That first dark period, however, was the most
momentous that has ever been in the history of
our reHgion. It was then that the church came
into being and was moulded into the form which

1

2 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

it has essentially preserved amidst all subsequent
changes. If we would understand the complex
movement of the following centuries, we must
try to know something of the influences at work
in those earliest years. Theoretically, this is
acknowledged by scholars; but in practice they
have too often treated the first period as negli-
gible, because it has left so little impression on
the records. Sometimes, indeed, they have de-
liberately passed it over in order to enhance the
achievement of the Apostle Paul. The original
disciples, we are told, had failed to apprehend the
real drift of Jesus' teaching. They clung to the
one belief that he was the promised Messiah, but
otherwise remained on the ordinary plane of
Judaism, and would eventually have found their
place as a minor Jewish sect. It was Paul who
rescued Christianity and who may almost be said
to have created it. New Testament criticism is
now retreating from this position, so long ac-
cepted as self-evident, that the work of Paul was
altogether revolutionary. It is coming to be
recognised, in view of a more exact study of his
life and writings, that he owed far more to the
primitive church than has usually been granted,
and that his relation to it was one of substantial
sympathy. The gentile mission itself, it is now
generally admitted, was not an innovation brought
about by Paul. He entered upon it when it was
already well in progress, and could only claim

THE FIRST DAYS 3

that he had laboured in it more than them all.
Paul must always remain the greatest figure in
the early history of the church, but the estimate
that would make him the sole builder is the re-
sult of a threefold illusion. He was the most
brilliant personality of the apostoHc circle; and
the work which he shared with others has there-
fore been credited to him alone. His writings
have been preserved to us and are our only first-
hand records of the life of the primitive church;
thus we infer that it had no other teacher. Lastly,
the period which lies behind him is one of ob-
scurity. Since we cannot discover how much
was given to him, we are willing to believe that
he borrowed nothing and simply originated what-
ever he taught. Before we can rightly under-
stand Paul, or the great movement in which he
played the chief part, we require to free our minds
of these illusions and to allow room beside him
for his fellow labourers.

The dependence of Paul on the primitive church
is coming at last to be recognised; but criticism
still insists on a dividing line between the prim-
itive church and Jesus. It is assumed that after
our Lord's death the import of his message be-
came half obliterated. Another interest began
to occupy the minds of his followers, and from
this, much more than from his own teaching,
the new movement took its departure. Now it
cannot be denied that this hypothesis contains a

4 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

measure of truth. There were meanings in the
thought of Jesus which his disciples were unable
to fathom, and his gospel, as they proclaimed it,
could not but suffer an impoverishment. It was
inevitable, too, that the events in which his life
had culminated should partly overshadow his
previous ministry and transform men's attitude
toward him. But when all this is granted, we
have still to remember that the disciples had
learned the message of Jesus, and cannot have
entirely missed its meaning. It is incredible
that after his death they should have wrested his
cause from its true purpose and changed it into
something different. That they continued to
cherish the message as they had received it from
Jesus is no mere matter of conjecture. If direct
evidence were needed, we have it in the existence
of our Synoptic Gospels, which, on any theory of
their origin, are based on the reminiscences of
the primitive church. The community that has
bequeathed to us these Gospels must have trea-
sured the teachings of Jesus with a remarkable
fidelity. Even the discrepancies in the threefold
record are highly significant, proving as they do
that the tradition was not a formal and mechan-
ical one. The message of Jesus had worked it-
self into the life of the church and so passed down
to the next generation as its most precious her-
itage.

We cannot be wrong, therefore, in believing

THE FIRST DAYS 5

that, despite all apparent differences, there is an
inner connection between the various phases of
New Testament history. It has been too much
the custom of criticism to insist on the differences.
We are asked to suppose that Christianity ad-
vanced, not by an orderly process but by a
series of sharp transitions — from Jesus to the
primitive church, from the primitive church to
Paul. At each of these stages there was a break
with the past and a fresh beginning. But if the
principle of development means anything, we
cannot be content with this account of the early
history. The differences are real enough, and
it was necessary for a time to emphasise them;
but the task that now devolves on criticism is to
discover the hidden links of continuity. It is
proposed in these lectures to investigate that
primitive period which lies between Jesus and
Paul, in order, if possible, to determine the nature
of its thought and beliefs. According as we
understand that critical period of transition, we
shall be able to trace the development of the
world-wide church from the immediate work of
Jesus.

At the outset we have to reckon with a dif-
ficulty which might seem to preclude all investi-
gation. Since the earliest period is one of dark-
ness, have we the necessary data for any judgment
concerning its beliefs? The Epistles of James

6 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

and Peter can no longer be accepted as first-hand
documents; the Johannine literature, whatever
be its authorship, is certainly the product of a
later time; and apart from these writings we
have nothing that even pretends to represent
the mind of the first Apostles. But our sources,
though meagre, are not wholly insufficient. In
the first place, we have the introductory section
of the book of Acts (chaps. 1-12), in which the
author professes to set down the earliest events
in something like historical order. These chap-
ters of Acts are no doubt composed, in great
part, of legend; but the primitive mark upon
them is unmistakable. We are conscious that
behind the idealised pictures there are authentic
memories of conditions that belonged to the past.
This impression, which forces itself on every un-
biassed reader, has now been largely justified by
the detailed examination to which the chapters
have been subjected in recent years. Literary
analysis is at best uncertain; and the critics of
this section of Acts have by no means reached a
complete agreement. Yet they may be held to
have proved that in his second work as in his
first Luke employed a method of compilation, and
that he incorporated in his narrative documents
of high antiquity and value. Some of these doc-
uments can still be detached, and can be assigned
to a date when the memory of the events must
have been fresh and vivid. Even those portions

THE FIRST DAYS 7

of the record which bear the clearest traces of
later manipulation cannot wholly be set aside.
The author is working on material given to him,
and preserves enough of it to indicate at least
something of its original character. Again, the
Epistles of Paul supply evidence of first-rate value
not only for the contemporary life of the church
but for earlier conditions. In several passages
Paul refers explicitly to what he had received
from the Apostles before him. Attentive study
of his writings can discover many other passages
in which the reference is impHed although not
directly expressed. Indeed, it may be aflSrmed
that the teaching of the primitive church forms
a constant background to the Apostle's thought.
Even in his statement of doctrines which are
characteristically his own we can make out a
penumbra — a suggestion of older and simpler
ideas which he was seeking to interpret. Our
third source is the Synoptic Gospels. Their very
existence, as has been said already, is a fact of
the highest importance for the understanding of
the apostolic age. We are reminded that the
teaching of Jesus was a living power in the church
and that all its beliefs and activities were in-
fluenced directly by that teaching. But in a
more definite manner the Gospels throw a light
on the beginnings of Christian history. Into its
recollections of the Hfe of Jesus the church uncon-
sciously transfused some portion of its own life.

8 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Incidents were described from the point of view
of actual conditions; sayings were adapted so
as to bear more immediately on present difficul-
ties and needs; later reflection on the Gospel story
was thrown back on the historical picture. There
can be little doubt that the narrative as we now
have it contains a large deposit from the early
history of the church; but the task of sifting out
the accretions from the original substance is one
of extreme delicacy. It has certainly been car-
ried out too rashly, and in too hard and pedantic
a fashion, by many recent critics. They have set
to work with a preconceived idea of what Jesus
must have said and what the church must have
added, and have failed to reckon with the pos-
sibility that he and the church may have partly
shared the same outlook. But, although the task
is difficult, we are assisted, in some measure, by
the comparison of the three Gospels. In not a
few cases their differences afford us a clew that
would otherwise be wanting, and enable us to
separate the thought of Jesus from the elements
that filtered in at a later time.

These, then, are the chief sources of our knowl-
edge. They are, indeed, scanty and their data
have often to be pieced together by conjecture;
but when we consider the obscurity which over-
hung the earliest Christian history it is surprising
that so many glimpses are afforded us. Our con-
cern is with the primitive beliefs as we can ascer-

THE FIRST DAYS 9

tain them with the help of these sources. But it
is necessary, in the first place, to direct our atten-
tion to the historical circumstances in which the
church arose.

On the night when Jesus was arrested in Jeru-
salem, during the Passover week, the disciples,
smitten with panic, had deserted him. What was
the nature of this desertion? The Gospel narra-
tives, in their present form, leave us with the
impression that although the disciples fled they
still remained in the city and there received the
evidence that the Lord had arisen. But the
evangelists wrote under various influences, which
may easily have led them, at this point, to dis-
guise or modify the facts. They may well have
desired to mitigate the apparent weakness of the
disciples — to assign to Jerusalem, from the very
outset, a place of unique importance — to com-
bine the story of the empty grave with that of
the appearances. It is certainly natural to sup-
pose that in the panic which overtook them the
disciples made their escape altogether from the
zone of danger and hastened back to their homes
in Galilee. When we examine the New Testa-
ment evidence more closely we find a number of
evidences which have survived the later editing,
and which point to Galilee rather than Jerusalem
as the scene of those experiences which convinced
the disciples that the Lord had risen. (1) Mark

10 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

preserves the significant prediction: '^ After that
I am risen I will go before you into Galilee *'
(Mark 14 : 28). Signs are not wanting (cf. Mark
16 : 7) that this reunion in Galilee formed the
subject of the lost ending of Mark's Gospel. (2)
In the twenty-first chapter of John, the so-called
*' appendix," which is synoptic rather than Johan-
nine in its character, we meet with the tradition
of an interval during which the disciples resumed
their old life in GaUlee and there saw the Lord.
(3) The same tradition has left its marks on the
closing chapter of Matthew (28 : 10, 16 /.),
although the original outlines of the story have
now become much faded. (4) Paul, whose brief
account of the resurrection is the earliest and
most important of all, says nothing as to the
locality of the visions, but his references would
suit Galilee better than Jerusalem. He speaks,
for instance, of an appearance to James, and there
is no evidence that James had accompanied Jesus
to the capital. Moreover, the "five hundred
brethren at once" could hardly have been gath-
ered elsewhere than in Galilee, where the ma-
jority of Jesus' adherents still remained.

What, then, was the effect of those appear-
ances which in all probability took place in
Galilee? It is commonly assumed that the faith
of the disciples had been shattered by the appar-
ent ruin which had befallen Jesus and his cause.
They had accepted him as the promised Messiah;

THE FIRST DAYS 11

but in view of his ignominious death their belief
in him could only be restored by a stupendous
miracle. The desertion at Gethsemane, followed
by the denial of Peter, is brought forward as
evidence of this collapse of faith. But we can-
not fairly draw a large inference of this kind from
the desertion. It was nothing but the result of
a sudden panic such as might easily overtake a
band of peasants confronted for the first time
and in a strange city with the terrors of legal pro-
cedure. As the later events abundantly proved,
it argued no radical lack of courage — much less
a shattering of faith. If we can attach any value
to the solemnly repeated statements of the Gos-
pels, the disciples were already prepared for the
closing events at Jerusalem. Jesus had fore-
warned them of a coming catastrophe and taught
them that through suffering and death he would
fulfil his Messianic work. It can hardly be
doubted that the teaching of Jesus, in the latter
days of his ministry, turned largely upon this
thought; and any failure of faith on the part of
his disciples could be only for a moment. Their
mood, when once the crisis was over, would be
one not of disillusionment and despair but of
intense expectation. All had happened as Jesus
had foretold. Their belief in him would be even
stronger than before and would be only waiting
to break out into victorious certainty.

The narratives of the resurrection are beset

12 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

with many problems, some of which may be
partly solved by critical analysis while others are
involved in a mystery that can never be Hfted.
For our immediate purpose it is not necessary to
discuss these complex problems. One fact stands
out clearly amidst all the confusion of the records
and IS now recognised by every fair-minded
scholar — that the disciples underwent some ex-
perience which convinced them that the Lord was
risen. According to Paul, who expressly says that
his testimony was that of all the Apostles,* the
fact of the resurrection was estabhshed by a series
of visions of which the first was seen by Peter.
Of the empty tomb we have no mention by Paul,
although some have discovered a hint of it in
his emphatic statement that '* Christ died and was
buried." Paul speaks, indeed, as if all the ap-
pearances were of the same order as that which
he himself had witnessed on the road to Damas-
cus, when Christ was manifested not in the body
which he had worn on earth but in a spiritual
body consisting of heavenly light. But prob-
ably it was not till a later time that the church
began to reflect on the nature of the resurrection
and arrived at the theories which are suggested
by the conflicting narratives in the Gospels. The
original witnesses were satisfied with the fact.
Christ had appeared to them and was therefore
risen.

* I Cor. 15 : 11.

THE FIRST DAYS 13

From the time of Paul onward Christian
thought has dwelt on the resurrection and has
sought to correlate it with the wider problems
of faith and immortality. These later specula-
tions must be left out of account when we try to
estimate its significance for the first disciples.
They viewed it, so far as we can gather, under
two aspects. On the one hand, it inspired them
with the conviction that Jesus was still living.
Their fellowship with him had only been inter-
rupted for a brief season and was now resumed,
although he was no longer an outward and visible
presence. They were his servants, as before, and
could depend upon his aid and direction. In
this belief that they were co-operating with the
living Master we can discern the ultimate secret
of that enthusiasm which carried them to vic-
tory. They were engaged in the service not of
a rule or tradition, however sacred, but of the
living Christ. Here, too, we may discern the
secret of the progressiveness of early Christianity
— of its power of adapting itself to new conditions
and welcoming the new influences that might
seem to be working for its destruction. It was
not bound down to the past, for Christ was still
living and offering a new revelation. His life as
it had been was remembered and treasured be-
cause it served to illuminate his present and abid-
ing life. We are wont to think of the mysticism
which has entered so profoundly into Christian

14 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

thought as a later development. The first traces
of it have been discovered in Paul, and are set
down to his peculiar temperament and experi-
ence or to the ideas which he borrowed half
unconsciously from the Oriental cults. But the
disciples were possessed from the outset with
a conviction which naturally took the form of
a mystical sentiment. Assured that Jesus was
still living, they sought to continue in his fellow-
ship; and the outward communion was replaced
by a sense of his inward presence. '^Wherever
two or three are gathered together in my name,
there am I in the midst of them.'* These words,
although they can hardly have been spoken by
Jesus himself, afford us a vivid glimpse into the
minds of his earliest followers, to whom he was
still the living and present Lord.

But the resurrection had another and more
definite significance. It served to convince his
disciples not only that Jesus was still living but
that he had now entered on his supreme office as
the Messiah. During the whole New Testament
period this is the grand inference which is drawn
from the fact of the resurrection. It is the
crowning proof, the palpable guarantee, of Jesus*
Messiahship. "If Christ is not risen," says Paul,
"your faith is vain; ye are yet in your sins."
His meaning is that the very basis of the Chris-
tian gospel is the belief that Jesus is the Mes-
siah and that this belief is attested by the fact

THE FIRST DAYS 15

of the resurrection. The earliest missionary
preaching seems all to have taken this as its
starting-point. Jesus was proclaimed as Messiah
on the ground of his resurrection, and in his
Messiahship the whole meaning of his gospel was
made to centre. A question here arises which is
of crucial importance and difficulty and which
has never been sufficiently answered by New
Testament scholars. Why was the resurrection
accepted as the convincing proof of the Mes-
siahship? According to one view, Jesus was
marked out by this great miracle as a super-
natural person, who could be no other than the
Messiah. But it is doubtful whether the miracle
in itself would have compelled this inference.
We have evidence that the Jewish mind of the
time fully entertained the possibility of a resur-
rection in the case of men specially favoured by
God. Popular legend told of ''women who re-
ceived their dead raised to Hfe again" (Heb.
11 : 35). When Jesus first appeared, as w^e know
from the Gospel narrative, Herod surmised that
this must be John the Baptist risen from the
dead. The idea of resurrection was by no means
so strange to Jesus' contemporaries that his ap-
pearance after death would leave them no choice
but to acknowledge him as the Messiah. Again,
it has been held that the resurrection proved the
claim of Jesus because it cancelled the reproach
of his cross. He had suffered as a false Messiah,

16 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

but God had vindicated him — had declared that
his witness was true. The disciples may, indeed,
have used this argument in defending the Mes-
sianic claim of Jesus against Jewish unbelief. It
enabled them to show that the stumbling-block
of the cross had been gloriously removed and
that God himself had given his answer to the
blind judgment of men. But to themselves, as
we have seen, the cross was no stumbling-block.
Jesus had taught them to regard his death not
as a catastrophe which needed to be justified but
as the necessary fulfilment of the divine plan.
Once more it has been suggested that the proof
from the resurrection owed its strength to proph-
ecy. In Peter's speech at Pentecost certain
passages from the Psalms are quoted at length
and applied to the resurrection; and in the early
preaching generally this line of argument seems
to have been enforced. "Christ rose from the
dead,'' says Paul, "according to the scriptures."
But it cannot have been on the ground of proph-
ecy that the resurrection was held to be the de-
cisive proof of the Messiahship of Jesus. The
Old Testament passages in question have no ob-
vious bearing on the event. They cannot have
constituted the proof, but were evidently sought
out to support it by the ultimate authority of
scripture.

Why was it, then, that the resurrection was ac-
cepted by the disciples as absolute testimony that

THE FIRST DAYS 17

Jesus was no other than the Messiah? It is
difficult to avoid the conclusion that they were
influenced in the last resort by some declaration
of Jesus himself. They were aware that he had
foretold his rising from the dead and had connected
it with his elevation to the Messianic office. In
his later teaching, as recorded in the Gospels, he
dwells on the thought that his approaching death
will be followed by an exaltation. The Son of
Man will suffer n\any things and be put to death,
but will rise again and manifest himself in glory.
The authenticity of these predictions has often
been called in question; and it may be admitted
that they have not been reported literally. They
follow one another according to an artificial
scheme and bear evident traces of later theo-
logical reflection. But there is no reason to
doubt that they preserve at least the substance
of actual sayings of Jesus; and they help to ex-
plain his attitude in the closing days, when he
held unwaveringly to his Messianic claim in the
face of impending death. The disciples, we may
believe, understood the resurrection in the light
of these anticipations of Jesus. He had declared
that although he must die he would rise from
death as the exalted Messiah, and now "he had
risen, as he said."

The resurrection, therefore, was the triumphant
proof that Jesus was the Messiah; but its sig-
nificance in this respect needs to be defined more

18 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

closely. By his rising from the dead it was proved
that he had now attained to his Messiahship —
that the dignity which had hitherto been latent
had become actual. The Messiah, according to
Jewish expectations, was to reveal himself at the
beginning of the new age, over which he would
preside as the representative of God; and it was
only in a future and potential sense that Jesus
could claim in his lifetime to be the Messiah. He
believed, if we rightly understand the obscure
hints in the Gospels, that by death he was to win
for himself the Messianic office, invested with
which he would return to bring in the kingdom of
God. Thus the resurrection was a necessary mo-
ment in the destiny which he contemplated, and
his prediction of it affords no real difficulty. Con-
vinced, as he was, that through death he would
obtain Messiahship, he declared that he would
rise from death into a new and higher state of
being. These hopes of Jesus were familiar to his
disciples; and by their visions of the risen Master
they were assured that the exaltation had now
been accomplished. The resurrection was proof
not of something that Jesus had been in his
earthly life but of the sovereign place to which
he had since attained. For the first time they
now beheld him in his true character as the Mes-
siah. More than once in the New Testament we
meet with an explicit statement of this concep-
tion, which seems to have been taken for granted

THE FIRST DAYS 19

in the earliest theology of the church. ''Let all
the house of Israel/' says Peter at Pentecost,
"know assuredly that God hath made this Jesus
whom ye crucified both Lord and Christ" (Acts
2 : 36). Hitherto he had been "Jesus of Naza-
reth, a man approved of God among you by
miracles and wonders and signs"; now God had
appointed him Lord and Christ. So Paul, in
the opening verses of Romans, speaks of Jesus as
"born of the seed of David after the flesh, but
now declared Son of God with power by the resur-
rection from the dead." * To the disciples this
was the central significance of those visions which
they had witnessed. They were satisfied that the
potential dignity had now become actual. Jesus
had risen out of the limitations of his earthly
life into the position of lordship and power to
which he had been destined. His rising again had
been at the same time his entrance on the Mes-
siahship.

The appearances, then, seem to have taken
place in Galilee; and in any case the disciples had
returned there for a short interval after the Lord's
death. Immediately afterward, however, we find
them in Jerusalem, along with a considerable
number of other adherents of Jesus who had not
belonged to the inner circle. Nothing is told us
of the reasons for this migration, which was
* Romans 1 : 3, 4.

20 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

fraught with such momentous consequences.
Luke, indeed, who would naturally have been our
informant, is anxious above all the others to dis-
guise the fact that the disciples ever left Jeru-
salem.

How is the migration to be explained? Ac-
cording to one view the followers of Jesus were
attracted by a natural sentiment to the city
which had been consecrated for them by his
passion. But their memories of Jesus were far
more entwined with GaHlee than with Jerusalem.
By abandoning their native province they cut
themselves off from the sacred associations of
the past years. It has been more plausibly con-
jectured that they felt the need of a wider field
of propaganda than Galilee could afford them.
From Jerusalem as a centre they would be able
to proclaim their message to the Jewish nation
and to the world at large. But it is hardly con-
ceivable that at the very beginning, when they
were still overwhelmed with their wonderful ex-
periences, they drew up a deliberate plan of
action and chose out a centre for missionary
work. Their choice, in any case, would not
readily have fallen on Jerusalem — the stronghold
of the opposition which had brought about the
Lord's death. Another theory has been put for-
ward in recent years,* to the effect that the settle-

* Cf. Spitta., "Zur Geschich. undLitt. des Urchristentums,"
I. 290.

THE FIRST DAYS 21

ment at Jerusalem was more or less accidental.
The disciples had been interrupted in their ob-
servance of the Passover, and availed themselves
of a provision in the Law which allowed of a
second observance at Pentecost. But in the time
of Jesus the Passover pilgrimage was no longer
insisted on, and the disciples would feel no ob-
ligation to keep the feast over again. Moreover,
it cannot be imagined for a moment that in the
first glow of their faith in the resurrection they
were troubled by meticulous scruples about the
omission of a legal duty. The true explanation
of the removal to Jerusalem is almost certainly
to be sought in the enthusiastic hopes which had
now taken full possession of the disciples. As-
sured that the Lord was risen, they were looking
for his immediate return in power to establish
the kingdom of God. Where ought they to be
in order that they might not miss him at his
coming? According to a well-known prophecy,
he would manifest himself in the holy city. " The
Lord whom ye seek shall suddenly come to his
temple, even the messenger of the covenant whom
ye delight in" (Mai. 3 : 1). It is told us in the
early chapters of Acts that the disciples were
continually in the temple, and this is usually
adduced as evidence that they adhered strictly
to Jewish forms of piety notwithstanding their
new-born faith. But may we not here discern a
reminiscence which had come down from the

22 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

earliest days, although its true import had possibly
been forgotten when Luke recorded it? The dis-
ciples had hastened to Jerusalem, impelled by a
sublime hope of sharing in their Master's triumph.
Like Simeon in the Gospel story, they resorted
every day to the temple, believing, like him, that
they would there witness the coming of the
Lord's Christ. \ y

Another significant detail is preserved for us
in those opening chapters of Acts. We are told
that the community, numbering about a hundred
and twenty in all, held a solemn meeting and,
on Peter's suggestion, cast lots for one who should
take the place of Judas in the inner group of the
twelve. The account is evidently based on some
primitive and trustworthy source, otherwise the
obscure Matthias, who is never heard of again,
would not have been lifted into such prominence.
It may be doubted, however, whether Luke has
rightly appreciated the motive of this election.
Its purpose, according to the speech attributed
to Peter, was to provide another official mission-
ary who could bear witness to the work and
resurrection of Jesus on the strength of personal
knowledge. But if this alone was to be his voca-
tion, there was no reason why he should have
been adopted into the family of the twelve.
Outside of this original band, there were not a
few who were fully commissioned as apostles
and who were far more active and successful in

THE FIRST DAYS 23

apostolic work than Thomas or Andrew or Bar-
tholomew. For the appointment of Matthias
there can only have been one motive — to make
up the symbolic number of twelve, which had
been fixed by Jesus himself in order to signaHse
the nature of his community. We shall return to
this point later, but meanwhile it is important to
note that one of the first acts of the church w^as
to restore the symbolic number. It was deemed
essential, if the community was to answer its
true character, that it should have a nucleus of
twelve.

In his account of this incident, and through-
out the earlier chapters of his book, Luke has
construed the facts according to a given theory,
and by so doing has altered the historical per-
spective in such a manner as to mislead all sub-
sequent investigation. The plan of his double
work — for the Gospel and the Acts must be
taken together — is a truly magnificent one. He
sets himself to show how the message destined
for all mankind found its way to all, diffusing it-
self in ever-widening circles over the whole world.
The movement which had originated in a remote
province was centred at last in Jerusalem, and
from there extended to the cities of Israel, to
Syria, to the more distant gentile lands, until
it became a power in Rome itself. It was, indeed,
in this manner that the gospel spread, but Luke
has exhibited the progress from the point of view

24 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

of conscious design. He regards Christianity as
from the first a missionary religion. Jesus chose
the twelve to be his Apostles, and immediately
after his departure they arranged to carry out
the great propaganda. Already in the initial days
at Jerusalem they were looking to the future and
laying their plans in view of it. Luke fails, there-
fore, to allow for the spontaneity with which the
mission developed itself, and which is apparent
when we read between the lines of his own story.
The advance was not the result of design, but
of the inherent universality of the new religion.
It passed on from race to race by channels of
its own making, and broke, with a living power,
through every restriction which men had placed
upon it. To understand the primitive church in
its true character, we must divest our minds of
Luke's theory. There came a time, no doubt,
when the mission was consciously undertaken and
absorbed the whole energy of the church, but at
the beginning, as we shall find reason to believe,
the missionary motive was entirely absent. The
disciples did not feel summoned to carry the
gospel to the world, or even to the masses of their
own countrymen. They expected that in a few
days or weeks the Lord would himself return to
fulfil his kingdom according to his own plan,
and their part was simply that of waiting for
him. If new adherents were added to the church
even in those first days it was not because of any

THE FIRST DAYS 25

deliberate propaganda. The plan of a mission
dawned on the disciples slowly and gradually,
and in some measure through the failure of their
earlier hopes.

This initial phase of the life of the church can
still be distinguished in the book of Acts in spite
of the meagreness and confusion of the narrative.
The believers are a small company, gathered
around their leaders, the twelve disciples. ^ They
are constantly together and pass their time in
prayer— directed, we cannot doubt, to the speedy
return of Christ. They throw their few posses-
sions into a common stock, for the end is now at
hand, and for the short remaining time it is
needless to entangle themselves with the affairs
of this world. Daily they frequent the temple,
in the hope that perhaps this day the Lord will
appear. This is the picture given us of the
earliest period, and we can detect no trace in it
of the sense of responsibiUty for a mighty mission.
We have to do, rather, with a company of vision-
aries, full of an intense inward life but purposely
avoiding all interests outside of their own im-
mediate circle. The conditions are changed in-
deed when a few years have passed and we find
ourselves confronted with the expanding mission-
ary church which has taken the whole world for
its province. Yet the later church grew out of
that earUer one, and when we look beneath the
surface we can see that the primitive ideals were

26 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

never wholly abandoned. The Christian church
as it exists to-day bears the impress that was
stamped upon it in that far-off time of its
origin.

The conclusions we have thus far been led to
may be briefly summarised. After the arrest of
Jesus the disciples had fled to Galilee, panic-
stricken by the disaster but with their faith un-
shaken. Jesus had taught them that he was the
destined Messiah — that he would rise again, in-
vested with higher attributes, and return in
power. In Galilee one and another of the dis-
ciples were visited with experiences which con-
vinced them that he had indeed risen; and the
twelve, accompanied with some hundred en-
thusiasts, came back to Jerusalem in the expec-
tation of meeting him. At first the little com-
munity was quite without plans for the future,
and its whole thought was directed to the great
crisis that seemed just imminent. None the less,
the believers were unable to conceal the hopes
that possessed them, and others were infected
with their confidence. New adherents began to
offer themselves unsought, and as these grew in
number, and the Lord's coming was delayed, the
mission assumed a deliberate character. A rude
organisation, too, became necessary, all the more
so as practical diflSculties arose in the distribu-
tion of the common goods. Thus, step by step,
the church took on itself the form of an institu-

THE FIRST DAYS 27

tion, with its own peculiar traditions and its own
practices and beliefs.

Our inquiry is concerned with that earliest
period when the community was still in the proc-
ess of moulding, under the influence of the
primitive ideas. The period is a clearly marked
one, ending with the death of Stephen; but how
long it extended is a matter of dispute, which
will never, perhaps, be finally settled. Our nat-
ural impression, as we read the book of Acts,
is that of a considerable interval dividing the
career of Paul from the first settlement in Jeru-
salem. But the result of more recent chrono-
logical study has been to throw back the conver-
sion of Paul to an ever earlier date. At the
latest, it cannot have been subsequent to the
year 35 — five years after the crucifixion. More
probably we must assign it to the year 33 or 32.
It is difficult to realise that the momentous
initial period occupied only the short space of
two or three years, but we must remember that
in great epochs the changes that would normally
require a generation may be crowded into months.
In view, too, of the shortness of the period, we
are compelled once more to ask ourselves the
fundamental question whether the changes were
so radical as has commonly been supposed. In
point of time, Paul was separated by only a brief
interval from Jesus; may he not have approached
him, more closely than might appear at first sight,

28 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

in the broad outlines of his teaching? The answer
to this question is to be sought, at least in part,
in the study of that primitive community which
forms the bridge between Jesus and Paul.

LECTURE II

THE ECCLESIA

The followers of Jesus called themselves by
two names, given them, apparently, by Jesus
himself. In their relation to him they were the
fjaOrjTai — the *' learners" or ''disciples." This
was the ordinary name applied to the adherents
of a religious teacher, and we read in the Gospels
of "disciples" of John the Baptist and of the
Pharisaic rabbis. But in the case of Jesus' dis-
ciples it seems to have borne a reference to the
subject of instruction as well as to the teacher.
The hope that attracted men to Jesus was that
of learning the true nature of the kingdom and
the conditions of entering it. In their relation to
one another the disciples were the aBeXipoi, or
"brethren," and this name likewise derived a
special meaning from the subject of Jesus* mes-
sage. The kingdom which he proclaimed was to
recognise no distinctions of rank or class — no
other bond than that of love and mutual service.
In his own company of followers Jesus sought to
exemplify this new order which was soon to be
universal. "One is your Master, and all ye are
brethren." *

* Matt. 23 : 8.
29

30 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

These two names which Jesus had given were
retained after his death and were in general use
during the whole of the first century. They were
at last displaced by the name "Christians/' but
this was imposed from without and was adopted
slowly and reluctantly. If not bestowed in ridi-
cule it was at any rate a sectarian name, marking
the belief in Christ as the peculiar tenet of a
group or party, and we can understand the un-
willingness of the Christians to accept it. They
claimed to form a society altogether unique in
its character, and by this name they found them-
selves classified as one of the many religious or
philosophical sects of the age. At the same time
some term was necessary to denote the broth-
erhood, as distinguished from the individual
*' brethren" who composed it; and the term
adopted was "the Ecclesia." It is hardly too
much to say that in this name we have the key
to the early history of Christianity. By the des-
ignation which it chose for itself the community
expressed its consciousness of what it was and of
its place in the divine order.

At what time the name "Ecclesia" originated
we do not know, but it must have been employed
almost from the outset. When Paul goes back
in memory to his earliest Christian days he uses
the term "church" or "church of God" as a
matter of course,* and we may infer that it was
* Gal. 1 : 13, 22; I Cor. 15 : 9.

THE ECCLESIA 31

already established before the date of his eon-
version. He clearly implies, by all his references,
that it was the recognised name of the Christian
brotherhood aUke in Palestine and in the various
centres of the gentile mission. In two passages
of Matthew's Gospel* Jesus himself alludes to the
"church.'' We shall have occasion to consider
these passages later and to question their au-
thenticity— indeed, it is highly improbable on
every ground that the name was ever used by
Jesus. Nevertheless, it grew out of ideas which
were closely related to his work and message.
The nature of that relation will become apparent
when we have examined the origin and purport
of the name.

The word ''Ecclesia," as it occurs in ordinary
Greek, denotes a civic meeting or assembly. In
classical times it signified the governing council
of free citizens in a city-state, but at a later pe-
riod it assumed a more general meaning. Thus
within the New Testament itself we find it ap-
plied to the riotous gathering which assailed Paul
in the theatre of Ephesus. It is important to
note, however, that even in the later usage a
suggestion of its original meaning continued to
adhere to it. An i/cKkT^aia was not a chance
meeting of any kind, but a meeting of citizens
summoned for some object that bore on their
* Matt. 16 : 18i 18 : 17.

32 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

corporate life.* It has sometimes been main-
tained that the name eventually given to the
Christian community meant nothing more in
the first instance than the daily or weekly meet-
ing. But this theory is inadmissible on linguistic
if on no other grounds. Some peculiar signifi-
cance must have attached to the meeting before
it could be described by the august and expres-
sive name of "the Ecclesia."

In any case, the name had evidently a specific
reference which cannot be wholly explained from
its meaning in ordinary Greek. In Paul's Epistles
it is frequently qualified by the added words rov
Oeov;^ and it may be regarded as fairly certain
that the term "Ecclesia" is only a shortened form
of the full designation "the Ecclesia of God."
With this clew we are enabled to trace it to its
true origin in the Old Testament, where it ap-
pears, in the Septuagint version, as the equivalent
of the Hebrew "Qahal." Two words are used
in Hebrew for the community of Israel. One of
them refers to the community as such, whether
met together or scattered, and is rendered in the
Greek translation by avvaycoyi]. The other is
reserved for the actual gathering, for whatever
purpose, of the members of the community; and
i/€K\7)(7{a corresponds with this second word. J

*Sohm, "Kirchenrecht," I, 16.

1 1 Cor. 1 : 2; 10 : 32; 11 : 22; 15 : 9; Gal. 1 : 13; I Thess.
2 : 14; cf. Acts 20 : 28.

t A full and luminous discussion will be found in Hatch,
"The Christian Ecclesia."

THE ECCLESIA 33

There are signs, however, that in the later Old
Testament period the distinction between the
two terms had ceased to be carefully observed.
Books such as Ezra, Nehemiah, and Chronicles
employ "Qahal" freely, apart from any idea of a
formal assembly. It had come to be an alterna-
tive to the other and more usual term for the
community, although suggesting, in a more sol-
emn and emphatic manner, that the community
was called by God.

The Christian brotherhood, then, designated it-
self by one of the scriptural names for the chosen
people, but why this particular name eKKk'qaia
was preferred is not altogether clear. It was of
rare occurrence, and is found most often in un-
familiar books which contain little of spiritual
value. We might have expected that the church
would rather have sought a title for itself in the
Psalms or the greater prophets, from which it
derived the main proof texts of its message. As
a matter of fact, the name "Ecclesia" gives way in
a number of New Testament passages to the pro-
phetic name "the people of God,'* and this may
possibly represent an earlier usage which com-
peted for some time with the other. It is true
that the unusual character of the word "Ecclesia"
was itself an advantage, especially as the more
common Old Testament term had been already
appropriated by the synagogue, and some have
supposed that the disciples purposely chose out

34 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

a recondite word so as to make their title more
distinctive. But the choice of the word can be
sufficiently explained from the accepted religious
usage of the time. There are various indications
that the Jewish teachers had already taken the
word "Ecclesia" and stamped it with a particular
meaning. It denoted for them the congregation
of Israel in its ideal aspect as the assembly of
God's people. It expressed the conception not
merely of a community but of a holy community.*
By the connotation it thus bore it commended it-
self to the disciples as the name which best de-
scribed the inward nature and purpose of their
brotherhood.

One further question of a preliminary kind re-
mains to be considered. In the Epistles of Paul,
as elsewhere in the New Testament, iKKXr](Tia
seems often to be used in a restricted and local
sense. Paul speaks of the "church" at Corinth
or at Thessalonica; of the "churches" under his
supervision; even the little group of Christians
worshipping in some particular house constitutes
a "church." From this it has been inferred that
the local meaning of the name is the primary one.
Each separate congregation of the faithful was at
first an eKKXyjaLa; and the way was thus prepared
for the wider conception of a transcendental

* This is demonstrated by Schiirer, "The Jewish People in
the Time of Christ," vol. II, Division II, p. 59 (E.T.).
Schiirer concludes: "SuvaYwyn only expresses the empiric
matter of fact; exxXijafa contains as well a judgment of value."

THE ECCLESIA 35

"church'^ which was reflected in all the separate
communities.* But the name itself, viewed in
the light of its origin, requires us to assume that
from the outset the ideal significance was upper-
most. A Christian assembly could be an eKKXrjala
only so far as it stood for the whole communion
of saints and bore its character. The references
of Paul to individual "churches" are found, on
examination, to bear out this larger sense which
was always associated with the w^ord. When he
alludes to the " church at Corinth" he is thinking
not so much of the separate group of Christians
as of the holy community which it represents.
There is only one Ecclesia under many forms of
manifestation, and in each of these forms the
entire church is, in some manner, present. At
the beginning this ideal unity of the church was
the more easily discerned as it corresponded with
the visible fact. The one company of disciples,
waiting at Jerusalem for the Lord's coming,
could feel that it constituted the "church of God."

What, then, was the conception which the dis-
ciples sought to embody in that name "Ecclesia"?
The broad answer to this question is not hard to
determine. The church regarded itself as a holy
community chosen by God to inherit his prom-
ises, as Israel had been in the past. As in its
corporate capacity it was the Ecclesia, so its
*So Batiffol, "L'Eglise naissante," pp. 80 #.

36 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

individual members were the dyiot, or " saints."
They had been called by God, set apart by him
for a special service and privilege. But to under-
stand this conception of the church as* the holy
community we require to analyse it further. In
the light of the New Testament evidence we can
distinguish two ideas that were implied in it.
Ultimately, as we shall see, they were one and
the same, but they need first to be considered
separately.

(1) On the one hand, the church claimed that
it represented Israel in its ideal vocation. Ac-
cording to the Old Testament, God had chosen
for himself one people out of all the nations of the
earth, and in the observance of its covenant with
God Israel was to find its true life and destiny.
It was assumed in the earlier times that nothing
more was required than a formal worship, and
that the nation, so long as it maintained the an-
cestral rites and sacrifices, fulfilled the conditions
of the covenant. But the prophets, with their
ethical conception of religion, revised this tra-
ditional view. They held that Israel as a nation
had been unfaithful to God, and had no more
right to call itself his people than the surrounding
heathen whose customs and morality it prac-
tised. Yet Israel was still God*s people in virtue
of the "remnant" — the pious and righteous few
who stood apart from the general corruption.
They were only a small minority, but they con-

THE ECCLESIA 37

stituted the true Israel inasmuch as they alone
were faithful to the higher calling of the nation.
In the sight of God the "remnant" was Israel,
and through it he would work out his purposes
although the nation as a whole must fall. This
prophetic idea of an Israel within Israel, a com-
munity that was spiritually a people of God, reap-
pears under many forms in later Jewish thought;
and it was in this sense that the disciples advanced
their claim to be the Ecclesia. They took their
stand on the acknowledged fact that the true
Israel was something other than the actual Israel.
Age after age, amidst all defections and corrup-
tions, God had preserved for himself a remnant
in which were vested the hopes and prerogatives
of his chosen people. It had now found its em-
bodiment in the Christian church.

The view has been generally maintained, or
even taken for granted, that the name "Ecclesia"
was adopted by way of challenge and implied a
feeling of antagonism to the nation and the na-
tional religion. As contrasted with the unbeliev-
ing Jews, the church, in spite of its apparent in-
significance, declared itself to be the true Israel.
But in the beginning, at all events, the name con-
noted no opposition of this kind. The disciples
were anxious to preserve a friendly attitude to
the nation and considered themselves a part of
it. They adhered to the Law and the established
institutions. They limited their activities to

38 ^THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

their own country and were conscious of no man-
date to the outside world. So far, indeed, from
involving a challenge, the name "Ecclesia" was
itself a recognition of the prerogatives of Israel.
It was the Jewish people whom God had chosen;
and the church, as the genuine core of the nation,
was working for the regeneration of the whole
and awakening it to the sense of its unique place
and privilege. That this was the original inten-
tion is clearly expressed in Peter's speech at
Pentecost, which has certainly been compiled out
of genuine reminiscences of the earliest mission-
ary preaching. "The promise," says Peter, "is
to you and to your children" — Israel as a nation
is summoned to identify itself with the heirs of
its higher traditions. It was only at a later time,
when church and synagogue had definitely parted
company, that advantage was taken of the name
"Ecclesia" to point a contrast. Paul now argues
that only those who share the faith of Abraham
are to be reckoned as Abraham's children. He
declares boldly: "We are the circumcision, who
worship God in the Spirit and rejoice in Christ
Jesus" (Phil. 3:3). In the Johannine writings
the belief has hardened into a dogma that the
Jews have now been rejected and that "Israel,"
in the reHgious sense, is equivalent to the Chris-
tian church.

The conception of the Ecclesia as the true
Israel pervades the New Testament, and has con-

THE ECCLESIA 39

stantly to be borne in mind before its language
becomes intelligible. Again and again the pa-
triarchs are described as "our fathers." The
division into twelve tribes is supposed to hold
good, in some ideal sense, of the Christian com-
munity (James 1:1; Rev. 7 : 4jf.). Terms and
images are freely borrowed from the Old Testa-
ment and are transferred to conditions prevailing
in the church. It is assumed that between the
ancient Israel and the new there is an essential
solidarity, so that the life of the one can be il-
lustrated and interpreted by that of the other.
This strain in New Testament thought has often
been misunderstood, with the result that criticism
has involved itself in needless difficulties. The
allusions to Israel have been supposed to mark
those writings in which they occur as of Jewish
origin or as bearing in some special manner on
Jewish interests. One writing in particular, the
so-called Epistle to the Hebrews, has been uni-
versally regarded, until quite recent times, as the
appeal of a Jewish teacher to the Jewish section
of the church. But in reading this and other New
Testament books we must take account of that
conception of the true Israel which had now
entered into the very substance of Christian
thought. Long after it had become predomi-
nantly gentile the Ecclesia continued to be in-
fluenced by the ideas suggested by its name. In
no merely figurative sense it conceived of itself

40 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

as Israel — one with the ancient community of
God's people and heir to its privileges and tra-
ditions.

The belief which we have here considered had
two consequences, both of them natural and in-
telligible, although they took opposite directions.
(a) On the one hand, it tended to keep the church
anchored in Judaism. The new Israel had suc-
ceeded to the old, and must preserve a certain
continuity with it, or its title would be imperilled.
There could be no question of breaking away from
the ancient law and ritual. Those who sought
membership in the Ecclesia must first submit
themselves to the requirements of the Jewish
religion, for in this way alone could they be in-
corporated in the stock of Abraham. When we
follow the great controversy that threatened to
break up the unity of the early church, our sym-
pathies are wholly with Paul, and we are liable
to do an injustice to his Jewish opponents. We
assume that by force of custom they clung to the
Law, in spite of the new faith which had made it
obsolete, and sought to narrow Christianity into
a mere phase of Judaism. But from their own
point of view they were just as consistent as
Paul, and as eager to maintain what seemed to
them a necessary Christian principle. If the
church was the community of God's people, it
must hold to the Law; otherwise its identity with
the historical Israel would be destroyed, and it

THE ECCLESIA 41

would forfeit its right in the promises made to
the fathers. Paul's adversaries, it may be sur-
mised, were far more influenced by a motive of
this kind than by any conviction of the intrinsic
value of the Law.

(6) Paul himself represented the other tendency,
which was implicit from the first in the concep-
tion of the Ecclesia. As for some minds it em-
phasised the relation of the church to Judaism,
so for others it loosened that relation and at
least cancelled it altogether. The church cor-
responded with Israel, which God had chosen to
inherit his promises, but what was meant by
Israel? Not the actual nation, but the elect
company of the faithful, who had realised the
conditions of Israel's calling. Their right to be
God's people was not founded on racial descent
but on knowledge of God and living obedience
to his will. Apart from the nation there had al-
ways been an ideal Israel consisting of God's
true servants, and to this hidden community the
promises had been given. Thus the name of
Israel was emptied of all its reference to the
nation and retained only its spiritual content.
The church became a purely religious fellowship,
in which all men of whatever race were free to
participate.

These two opposing ideas were not long in
declaring themselves, and their conflict and in-
teraction determined the whole course of early

42 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Christian history. But in the beginning their
latent antagonism was not perceived. The church
was content to regard itself as the holy commu-
nity, wherein Israel asserted its true vocation and
renewed on a higher plane its covenant with God.
As yet there was no suggestion of a breach with
the religion of the Law. The church was fully
conscious of its call to the new service imposed
on it by Christ, but it accepted the service as in
some manner the fulfilment of the work of Israel.
Hence the name which it chose for itself: ^'the
Ecclesia." The new community was identical
with that which had existed at all times within
the Jewish nation and which was now advancing,
under a fresh impulse, to the realisation of its
hopes.

(2) This brings us, however, to another meaning
of the name — a meaning even more significant of
the nature and outlook of primitive Christianity.
The church conceived of itself not only as the
true Israel but as the community of the future,
the people of God which would inherit the new
age. In countless passages Paul addresses his
readers as the elect, the saints, the heirs of sal-
vation. He describes them as passed out of
darkness into light, saved from condemnation,
endowed with the Spirit of adoption, citizens of
heaven. These terms, and others like them, have
entered so thoroughly into our own religious Ian-

THE ECCLESIA 43

guage that we scarcely pause to think of their
original import. But they all run back to that
other meaning which was bound up with the con-
ception of the Ecclesia. The church believed it-
self to be the community of the kingdom. Here ,
we discover the clew not only to many of its most
perplexing phenomena but to its connection with
the historical work of Jesus.

We know from the Gospels that Jesus came
forward with the proclamation that the kingdom
of God was at hand; in other words, that the new
age, in which the will of God would prevail,
was on the point of dawning. Strictly speaking,
therefore, his message had reference to the future.
The kingdom was yet to come, and he sought to
enlighten men as to its nature and conditions
and so prepare them for its coming. Nevertheless,
while he proclaimed a future kingdom, he thought
of it as so near at hand that its influences could be
felt already. His miracles were the evidence that
a higher power was breaking in. His teaching
was the revelation of that new righteousness
which would soon be established everywhere.
It was possible for men to apprehend the king-
dom as a present reality and to throw in their
lot with it even now.

In this twofold aspect, therefore, we have to
understand the work of Jesus. He foretold the
kingdom in order that men might be wrought to
a "change of mind" in view of the approaching

44 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

crisis, but he aimed also at something further.
He desired, in the present, to build up a commu-
nity that should inherit the coming kingdom. For
this reason he gathered around him his band of
disciples and imparted to them his knowledge
of God and of the higher law. By renewing their
wills and bringing them into fellowship with God
he sought to conform them to the conditions that
would prevail hereafter. The kingdom was still
future, but a community was already in being
which had broken with the present order and had
identified itself with that which was to come.

It is from this point of view that we must
understand the consciousness which found expres-
sion in the name "Ecclesia." The disciples were
aware that Jesus had destined them to be mem-
bers of the kingdom and that as his followers
they had entered potentially on their inheritance.
No doubt there was a meaning in his thought
which they did not fully grasp. The kingdom, as
he conceived it, was, above all, a new righteous-
ness and a new relation to God; and his essential
teaching remained unimpaired when, in the course
of time, the apocalyptic framework fell away.
But the message was given within that frame-
work, and it was this aspect of it that chiefly
occupied the minds of the disciples. They saw
themselves as the holy community, the heirs of
that new age which would presently be inaugu-
rated when the Lord returned in power. They

THE ECCLESIA 45

felt that for them it had already, in some sense,
begun, and that they had their part in a higher
supernatural order. The apocalyptic mood of
thought is now remote from us, and we find it
diflacult to put ourselves in the attitude of those
first believers to whom it was an intense reality.
We are apt to interpret their hopes and convic-
tions in a figurative sense and to strip away
what seem to us the mere fantastic wrappings.
But in doing so we miss what was precisely the
determining factor in the life and thinking of the
early church. It looked daily for a tremendous
crisis in which the old order of things would be
swept away and a new world would emerge
wherein God would reign. He would form for
himself a holy people to inherit eternal life in
that new world. And the church believed itself
to be the nucleus of that future community. It
was like a fragment of the heavenly order thrown
forward into the present, and had mysterious
powers and functions committed to it. Its affin-
ities were not with any earthly society but with
the assembly of the first-born in heaven.

There is nothing more impressive in the New
Testament than the magnificent confidence which
underlies the argument of the Epistle to the
Ephesians. It is there assumed that the church
has nothing less than a cosmical significance,
representing on earth the same divine power
which is working in heavenly places. God has

46 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

purposed to reconcile all the warring elements in
his creation, and the beginning of this great con-
summation is his church. How was it possible,
we ask ourselves, for the Christian brotherhood
to conceive in such term of its mission? It was
still an obscure and persecuted sect, and scarcely
a generation had passed since it came into being
with that handful of adherents in Jerusalem. By
what strange development had it arrived so
speedily at that lofty consciousness of its nature
and calling? But the answer is that from the
very first, in spite of its outward insignificance,
the church had believed itself to be a supernatural
community and had found warrant for this be-
lief in our Lord's own teaching. He had fore-
told the kingdom, had called his disciples to pos-
sess it, had taught them that even now they
might break with the old order and have their
portion with the new. From the moment when
they were reunited in Jerusalem under the im-
pulse of the resurrection they laid claim to a
citizenship which was in heaven.

The conception of the Ecclesia was thus a two-
fold one. On the one hand, the church was the
true Israel, continuous with that elect body which
had always existed in the nation; on the other
hand, it was the new heavenly community. These
two ideas, different as they might appear at first
sight, merged in one another. When the prophets

THE ECCLESIA 47

distinguished an Israel within Israel they had in
view the fulfilment of God's promises in the bet-
ter time that was coming. A deliverance was at
hand, but it was reserved for the faithful "rem-
nant" which constituted the true nation. At a
later period this thought was amplified and de-
fined under the light of the apocalyptic hope.
A belief grew up — we find clear traces of it as
early as the book of Daniel — that in the new age
God would raise to life again his servants of past
days and unite them with those still living, thus
forming for himself a holy people. This tra-
ditional hope was reflected in the conception of
the church. It was at once a new community
and a regenerated Israel, entering at last on its
inheritance. The principles for which it stood
had ever been central in the history of God's
people, and were now carried to their fulfilment.
Its members would sit down in the kingdom of
God with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all the
faithful Israelites of the past. Thus at the be-
ginning the two ideas of the new community and
the true Israel coalesced, but they tended to
separate as the apocalyptic mood which had fused
them grew less intense. Conceiving of itself as
heir to the historical Israel, the church took on
the organisation of an earthly society, although
the conditions of membership were now ethical
and religious instead of racial. The institutions
of Judaism were borrowed, with necessary adap-

48 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

tations to the changed requirements. The gospel
itself was regarded as the "new law/' and was
exhibited as a body of definite statutes, like the
Law of Moses. But there always remained the
other side to the church's consciousness. Al-
though outwardly a society like any other, it
claimed to be invested with mysterious attributes
and to be separated from the world.

From the outset, then, the church thought of
itself as the new community corresponding with
that supernatural order which would presently
be revealed. Here we have a fact that cannot be
too much insisted on, for the customary neglect
of it has warped our whole attitude toward the
beginnings of Christian history. We take for
granted that the church entered on its career
with horizons and ambitions which were in keep-
ing with its narrow circumstances, and that it
stumbled on its great vocation by a sort of ac-
cident. For a time it was nothing but an insig-
nificant sect of Judaism and aspired to no higher
destiny; then, under various influences, it grew
to a fuller consciousness and emerged as a world-
wide power. But the truth is that at no time in
its history has the church been possessed with so
lofty a sense of its calling as in those days of small
beginnings. It held the belief that the world was
face to face with a mighty crisis in which the
whole present order of things would come to an
end and a new age would set in. The people of

THE ECCLESIA 49

Christ were to reign with him in this new age.
Outwardly they might appear an obscure and
struggling sect, but they knew themselves to be
"a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy
nation" (I Peter 2:9). They beheved that al-
ready they belonged to the new order and had
their share in the powers and privileges of the
kingdom of God.

The ideal picture of the early church which
is set before us in the opening chapters of Acts
has fared ill at the hands of criticism. It has
been ascribed almost wholly to the pious retro-
spect of a later writer, to whom the first age ap-
peared as a unique period when the hand of God
was manifestly with his people. Visions were
then granted to the saints, miraculous energies
were intrusted to them, which were afterward
withdrawn. By marvellous signs it was made evi-
dent that through the church God was seeking to
work out his redeeming purposes. Now, it is not
difficult to argue that the picture must be largely
fanciful and that the young community, strug-
gling for its very existence in the midst of poverty
and danger, can have been surrounded with no
such halo as that which Luke bestows upon it.
Yet in one sense his description is truer to the
facts than the more sober and probable one which
modern historians would put in its place. The
primitive disciples lived in an atmosphere of
hopes and visions. They never doubted that they

60 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

were endowed with supernatural powers, that
they constituted a society which was not of this
world. They lost sight of the difficult present,
with its afflictions that were but for a moment,
as they looked to the glory that would be re-
vealed. It was this initial mood of elevation and
confidence that made possible the subsequent
triumph.

A discussion of the nature and purpose of the
Ecclesia has been necessary before we could ap-
proach a question which is of crucial importance
in the study of Christian origins. What was the
relation of Jesus to the church? Was he in some
conscious and literal sense its founder or did he
at the most communicate an impulse which had
its outcome in the later organisation? A number
of sayings in the Gospels undoubtedly seem to
indicate that the church was directly contem-
plated by Jesus, and that he laid down rules for
its guidance and administration. But it is more
than probable that such sayings, as we now have
them, have been adapted and modified. At the
time when our Gospels were written the church,
as an institution, had become a central interest
in Christian thought, and it was inevitable that
references to it should be sought for in the words
of Jesus. Precepts that had originally borne a
more general import were now applied to the
circumstances of the church. Parables of the

THE ECCLESIA 51

kingdom were so altered in thought and language
as to foreshadow the later conditions. It is sig-
nificant that sayings and parables of this kind are
most frequent in the Gospel of Matthew, which
seems to have been written with the requirements
of the church in view and was accepted from the
first as the Catholic Gospel. According to Mat-
thew, our Lord on two occasions* employed the
actual word "Ecclesia'' — once in regard to the
treatment of the erring brother and a second
time in the famous promise to Peter: "On this
rock I will build my church." If this passage is
genuine, our whole conception of the work and
aims of Jesus would need to be revised; for the
words scarcely admit of any other interpreta-
tion than that which has always been given them
by the church of Rome — that the purpose of
Jesus was to found an organisation of which he
expressly designated Peter as the head. But it
does not seem possible to accept the words as
authentic. They occur in connection with a
cardinal incident impressively recorded by all the
three Synoptists; yet only Matthew appears to
know that Jesus uttered them. Not only so, but
they are quite out of keeping with the incident,
disguising its real character and breaking up a
sequence of thought which in Mark's version is
clear and intelligible. It is not too much to say
that nowhere in the Gospels do we have stronger
♦Matt. 18: 17:16: 18.

52 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

evidence of interpolation than in this memorable
passage.

That Jesus provided for the upbuilding of a
regular society for the perpetuation of his work
is hardly conceivable in view of the apocalyptic
character of his message. Adopting, as he did,
the current anticipation of a great crisis, already
imminent, his perspective of the future did not
admit of any far-stretching horizons. He looked
not for a gradual development, brought about by
historical forces, but for an abrupt change ef-
fected by the immediate act of God and "within
this generation." Apart, however, from these
apocalyptic hopes in which he acquiesced, the idea
of an organised church was alien to the essential
nature of his thinking. He declares repeatedly
that all earthly institutions are part and parcel
of "this age." In the kingdom of God the re-
lations between man and man will be wholly
changed, and there will be no place for the old
social organisms. The very meaning of the king-
dom consists in this — that men will yield spon-
taneous obedience to the will of God, and through
love to God will serve one another. All the con-
straints imposed by outward rule and ordinance
will be needless in the new age, when men are
wrought into inward harmony with the divine
will.

It has sometimes been argued that the univer-
sality of Jesus' message implied an anticipation

THE ECCLESIA 53

of the church. If he intended his gospel for all
mankind, not merely for Israel or the small
section of Israel that had the opportunity of
hearing him, must he not have instituted a soci-
ety for the purpose of safeguarding and diffusing
it? There can, indeed, be no reasonable question
that he conceived of the message as appealing to
all men, and drawing multitudes from the East
and the West to participate in the kingdom of
God. To think of him as confining the number
of his elect to those few whom he was able to
reach by his personal ministry is utterly to mis-
take the purpose of his work. But it is not
necessary to infer that he looked for the great in-
gathering as the result of a concerted mission by
an organised church. To his own mind the truths
he proclaimed were self-evident, and he may have
believed that the world would spontaneously ac-
cept them now that they had been revealed.
Or, more probably, he may have supposed that
the enlightenment would be effected by some
supernatural means after he had given his life
as a ransom for many. In what manner he ex-
pected his message to diffuse itself we cannot
tell, but there is no indication that he deemed it
necessary to institute a society for this end.

It is impossible, then, to maintain the view
that Jesus deliberately founded the church and
assigned to it the work which it was destined to
accomplish in the course of the long centuries.

54 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Nevertheless, the church was his creation, not
merely in so far as he gave the impulse that called
it into being, but in a more definite sense. The
new age which he proclaimed was associated in
his mind with a community of God's people, and
he sought to gather around him a band of fol-
lowers who should be the nucleus of this com-
munity. We are used to think of the disciples as
called by Jesus that he might prepare them for
their subsequent work of Apostleship, and it is
true that in the Gospel records they appear as
helping him in the dissemination of his message.
But it was not primarily for active service of
this kind that he summoned them to his fellow-
ship. His real purpose was clearly expressed in
the significant number of twelve to which he
limited his personal followers. They were repre-
sentative of the new community which God
would choose for himself, as formerly he had
chosen Israel. Their vocation was not so much
to proclaim the kingdom to others as to lay hold
on it themselves and exemplify the higher moral
order and the closer relation to God. *' Rejoice
not,'' he said when they returned from the mis-
sion on which he had sent them, " that the demons
are subject unto you, but that your names are
written in heaven." This was their real task
and glory — to be themselves the first-fruits of the
new people of God.

Jesus, then, had no thought of founding a

THE ECCLESIA 55

society that would perpetuate his work when he
had himself departed, but the church was none
the less his creation. The Ecclesia which grew
up at Jerusalem and gradually expanded into a
world-wide organisation was only the enlarge-
ment of that brotherhood which he had himself
formed when he called to himself twelve disciples
as heirs of the kingdom. It has been said " Jesus
gave the promise of the kingdom, and instead of
it there came the church." By this is implied
that after his death his followers misunderstood
or abandoned the lofty hopes he had cherished,
and contented themselves with building up an
earthly society. Between his aim and theirs there
was practically nothing in common. But when
we examine more closely into the history of the
primitive age we discover the thought of Jesus
still operative in the minds of his disciples. He
had chosen them as the nucleus of the new com-
munity, and their work was influenced through-
out by this estimate of their calling. They desig-
nated themselves "the Ecclesia." Their function,
as they conceived it, was not so much to build
up the church as to be the church. In course of
time, no doubt, the earlier ideal gave way to that
of a great society, formally organised and con-
secrating itself to moral and religious work. But
while it thus changed its character, the church
continued, and has continued to this day, to
bear the impress of its origin. It was conscious

56 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

that although an earthly institution it was still
allied with a supernatural order, which by means
of it was realising itself on earth.

LECTURE III

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT

The church, if we have rightly understood its
original character, was the direct outcome of the
work of Jesus. He had foretold the kingdom of
God, and had chosen his disciples as the nucleus
of the new community that should possess it.
After his death they maintained the conscious-
ness of their vocation. They beUeved that Jesus
would shortly return as Messiah to bring in the
kingdom, and that they themselves were the des-
tined people of God. Though not yet delivered
from the present age, they had thrown in their
lot with the future, and had part in the higher
order which was soon to be established. This
was the constitutive idea of the primitive church,
and in the Ught of it we are able to explain much
that would otherwise be dark and unintelligible.

The conception of the church as the community
of the new age is vitally related to another which
meets us everywhere in early Christian thought.
Indeed, as we shall find reason to conclude, the two
conceptions are wholly dependent on each other
and cannot be separated. The church, as con-
trasted with mere earthly societies, regarded itself

67

i^

58 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

as a spiritual organism, quickened and controlled
by the power of the Holy Spirit. Throughout
the book of Acts we are made to realise that
this was the grand characteristic of the church;
and the evidence of Acts is more than confirmed
by Paul. In many respects, it is true, Paul ad-
vances on the earlier doctrine — enlarging and
deepening it, and applying it in new directions.
But he takes for granted that in his underlying
thought his readers are at one with him. They,
like himself, are convinced that the Spirit has
been imparted to the church as the one rule of
its life, the earnest of its hopes, the power that
guides it in difficulties, and insures its welfare
and peace. All the activities of the church are
the varied manifestations of the Spirit, which has
been communicated to all its members and to
them alone.

Luke has described, in a story familiar to every
one, the first outpouring of the Spirit. The dis-
ciples were met for prayer, according to their
custom, when the room was shaken by a rushing
wind, and tongues of flame descended on each
one of them. They went forth to proclaim their
message to the multitude assembled for the feast
of Pentecost from all parts of the earth, and found
themselves able to address each different race in
its own language. It may well be that behind
this narrative in Acts there is the record of some
day uniquely memorable in the history of the

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 59

church. Several modern scholars have discovered
another trace of the same incident in PauFs
allusion to the appearance of the risen Christ to
"more than five hundred brethren at once" (I
Cor. 15 : 6). But this is a mere conjecture, and
has very little to support it. The appearance to
the five hundred seems to point to Galilee rather
than Jerusalem, and was significant solely for its
bearing on the resurrection. Moreover, Luke is \
not describing the descent of the Spirit on a great
number. He thinks of a private meeting of the
disciples, who alone participate in the wonderful
experience, and in the strength of it make their^
appeal to the multitude. So far as the incident
is historical it goes back, apparently, to some oc-
casion when the little company was met at Jeru-
salem and became conscious for the first time of
the strange phenomenon of the speaking with
tongues. But there can be little doubt that the
narrative, as we find it in Acts, is mainly legen-
dary. For one thing, it is incredible that so mar-
vellous an extension of the church (three thou-
sand converts in one day) should have taken place
at that early time. All our evidence tends to
show that the community enlarged itself slowly
and gradually, and was still inconsiderable in
numbers long after the day of Pentecost. Again,
the miracle as represented to us was unnecessary.
The many nationalities whose names are recorded
all belonged to the circle of Greek-speaking peo-

60 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

pies, and did not require to be addressed in their
native dialects. With the Greek language alone
Paul was able to prosecute his world-wide mission.
The miracle at Pentecost, if we insist on accept-
ing it as historical, can only have been an exhibi-
tion miracle, serving no useful end. Once more,
and this is the decisive point, the gift of Glos-
solalia, or speaking with tongues, was a well-
recognised phenomenon in the early church, and
had nothing in common with the miraculous gift
described in Acts. Paul discusses it fully in
chapters 12-14 of I Corinthians, and while various
features in his account are not altogether clear,
it is quite evident that he had something else in
his mind than a speaking in foreign languages.
We cannot suppose that Luke was ignorant of
the true nature of Glossolalia, which continued
all through the first century to be one of the out-
standing elements in Christian worship. He him-
self refers to it more than once in subsequent
passages of Acts, and in such a manner as to in-
dicate that he was familiar with its character.
How, then, are we to account for this strange
transformation of the facts in the narrative of
Pentecost? Most probably it has to be explained
from that love of symbolism which betrays itself
again and again in both of Luke's writings. He
is preparing to tell the story of how the gospel
was spread abroad among all nations, and he
commences with a symbolic incident, in which

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 61

the later course of events is reflected in minia-
ture. Men of all races are assembled to witness |
the nativity of the church at Jerusalem, and they
all hear the gospel addressed to them in their
own tongues. The symboHsm possibly extends
yet further. Pentecost was the commemoration
of the giving of the Law, and according to a rab-
binical legend, of which we have a reminiscence
in Philo,* when God proclaimed the Law on
Mount Sinai his voice divided itself into seventy
languages, representing all the races of mankind.
To Luke the beginning of the church is the
counterpart of Sinai. It marked the promulga-
tion of the new law, which, like the old one, was
uttered in many tongues, as a law for all nations.
That the narrative in Acts assumed its present
form under the influence of ideas like these is
more than possible; and the conjecture is partly
borne out by critical analysis. Luke appears to
make use of a primitive fragment, to which he
has added his own account of the speaking in
strange tongues. It is significant that in Peter's
speech, which immediately follow^s, no reference
is made to the miracle, and that the comment of
the multitude is simply: "They are full of new
wine." Thus it may be inferred that the original
story told only of the earUest outburst of the well-
known Glossolalia. Luke has taken advantage
of this incident supplied to him by his sources to
* De Decal. 9 : 11.

62 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

elaborate a symbolical legend, which serves as a
frontispiece to the ensuing history.

Leaving for the present the question of those
"spiritual gifts/' which come before us first in
the story of Pentecost, we have now to consider
the theory that was associated with them in the
primitive church. They were prized for their
own sake, as the means whereby the church was
strengthened and helped forward in its mission.
Yet Paul acknowledges that even the speaking
with tongues, the most characteristic of all the
gifts, was itself of subordinate value. The chief
importance of this and of all the accompanying
gifts lay rather in the evidence afforded by them
that a divine power was at work in the church.
It was the community of the Spirit.

Behind the doctrine of the Spirit as it meets us
in the New Testament there lies a long and com-
plex history which has only been partially un-
ravelled by the investigations of modern scholars.
It is probable that the conception w^as originally
foreign to the religion of Israel and that its roots
must be sought in primitive animistic belief.
The Spirit appears in the earlier literature of the
Old Testament as something independent of
Jahveh.* It is an irresponsible power, apparently
demonic in its nature, which takes possession of
* Volz, "Der Geist Gottes," pp. 10 #.

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 63

certain men from time to time, and causes them
to act in a manner that cannot be explained.
The man on whom the Spirit has fallen " becomes
another man," whether for good or evil; his own
will is overmastered by a supernatural impulse.
But this primitive conception of a power that
acted independently could not maintain itself
alongside of Hebrew monotheism. Under the in-
fluence of the prophets the Spirit is transformed
into the Spirit of Jahveh and is strictly subor-
dinated to his will and purposes. At the same
time the earlier ideas continue to be attached to it.
Its action is manifested in strange occurrences —
abnormal energies and impulses, endowments
that are beyond the measure of human wisdom.
It is a supernatural power, breaking in upon the
settled order of things, and is thus the peculiar
attribute of the divine life. God himself pos-
sesses the Spirit in unlimited measure, while in
men it appears as something alien and intermit-
tent. Man is flesh and not Spirit, and the weak-
ness of his nature can only be overcome at in-
tervals by the descent upon him of the higher
influence.

The action of the Spirit was discerned in all
supernatural phenomena but more especially in
the enhghtenment of the prophet. This may
partly be accounted for by the ecstatic character
of prophecy in the earlier times. The prophet
uttered his message in a condition of frenzy, which

64 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

seemed to be due to the entrance of the Spirit
into the human agent. But in later prophecy
these physical accompaniments were entirely ab-
sent. The one mark of the prophet was his
possession of a higher insight and illumination;
and it was in this that the great ethical prophets
discerned the operation of the Spirit. The idea
that the Spirit is manifested above all in prophecy
connects itself with a larger idea which pervades
the Old Testament and which requires a some-
what closer consideration.

We read in the book of Numbers* how seventy
elders were endowed with the Spirit in order that
they might act as assessors to Moses in the work
of judging Israel. Two men who were not of
the authorised number began, like them, to proph-
esy, and when complaint was made to Moses
he exclaimed: "Would God that all the Lord's
people were prophets, and that the Lord would
put his Spirit upon them." The passage belongs
to one of the later strata of the Pentateuch and
reflects a train of thought which meets us again
and again in the prophetical books. Isaiah f
anticipates a time when the Spirit will be poured
out on all the seed of Israel. Jeremiah J declares,
in a memorable passage, that a day is coming
when men will require no longer to teach their
brethren, for all alike will know the Lord, from

* Num. 11 : 16 #. t Isaiah 44 : 3; 32 : 15.

t Jer. 31 : 33, 34.

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 65

the least to the greatest. It is not difficult to
perceive the thought that underlies these and
similar passages. Israel is the chosen nation and
in its ideal character is endowed with the true
knowledge of God. The nation as such has fallen
short of its vocation, and the higher enlighten-
ment is only given intermittently to the prophets,
who exemplify what is central and essential in the
life of Israel. But these individual men to whom
God reveals himself are the guarantees of a holy
nation in the future. A time is coming when the
ideal conditions will be realised and all God's
people will be prophets and will receive of his
Spirit. This, then, is the characteristic Old Testa-
ment doctrine. The Spirit is the divine power
bestowed on those whom God has set apart to
be his servants. But since Israel as a nation is
God's servant, his Spirit ought to reside in all
Israelites, not merely in the few chosen natures.
As yet this cannot be; but in the future age,
when Israel is a holy people in fact as well as
in name, the Spirit will be a universal possession.
"It shall come to pass afterwards," says the
prophet Joel in words which are quoted in Peter's
speech at Pentecost. " I will pour out my Spirit
on all flesh, and your sons and your daughters
shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams,
your young men shall see visions; and even upon
the servants and the handmaids in those days
will I pour out my Spirit." *

* Joel 2 : 28, 29.

66 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

The gift of the Spirit is thus conceived as the
pecuUar blessing of the new age; and it is only a
variant of this idea when Isaiah connects it more
specifically with the Messiah: "The Spirit of the
Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and
understanding, the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and of fear of the Lord."*
In the figure of the Messiah the future community
is summed up and personified. He receives the
gift that through him it may become the abiding
possession of the people whom he governs. Their
whole life, under the direction of the Messiah,
will be controlled and illuminated by the Spirit
of God.

In the Old Testament, therefore, we have to
do with two conceptions: a more general and a
more definite one. On the one hand, the Spirit
is the divine as contrasted with mere natural
power, and its action is perceived in all that is
inexplicable by ordinary law. On the other hand,
it is the divine power which is shaping the des-
tinies of Israel, and which will fully manifest
itself in the future elect community. In that
coming reign of God what is now exceptional will
be the normal order. Israel will enter on its new
career as a holy people and will serve God per-
fectly in the power of his Spirit.

It has often been remarked as strange that the
conception of the Spirit, which is so prominent
* Isaiah 11 : 2.

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 67

in the Old Testament and which was again to
occupy so large a place in early Christian thought,
should scarcely appear at all in our Lord's own
teaching. From this it has been inferred that the
church came by its doctrine indirectly — borrow-
ing perhaps from the current Jewish theology or
perhaps from the kindred ideas of certain hea-
then cults. The silence of Jesus on the work of
the Spirit seems to have perplexed the Gospel
writers themselves. They find the explanation
of it in the theory that in our Lord's own life-
time the Spirit was concentrated in himself,
being united with him either from his birth or
from the moment of his baptism. After his
death, according to this theory, it was detached
from his own personality, and was bequeathed by
him to the church at large.

Now, if the idea of the Spirit was indeed foreign
to the teaching of Jesus, the emphasis which was
afterward laid upon it would present an almost
insoluble problem. We should have to conclude
that from the very outset an alien element of far-
reaching importance was added to the thought of
Jesus. But when we look more closely we become
aware that the conception is everywhere present
in his own teaching, although it is implied rather
than directly expressed.

We may turn, in this connection, to one of the
few passages in which he makes explicit mention
of the Spirit and which is fully attested by all

68 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

the Synoptic writers. The passage in question
is that in which he rebukes his enemies, who
had attributed his wonder-working powers to the
agency of Satan. After showing the perversity
of this charge he argues, "If I by the Spirit of
God cast out devils, then is the kingdom of God
come unto you"; and the words are immediately
followed by his denunciation of blasphemy against
the Holy Spirit. Many exegetical details in the
passage are obscure, but its general meaning
admits of little doubt. In his ability to work
miracles, Jesus perceives the clear sign that the
kingdom is at hand. His enemies in their wilful
blindness had accused him of traffic with Satan —
failing to discern that operation of the Spirit
which was to manifest itself in the new age. For
this utter want of sympathy with the divine
action, this incapacity to recognise it when it
was most evident, there could be no forgiveness.
Jesus, therefore, presupposes the Old Testa-
ment conception. To him, also, the Spirit is a
power which reveals itself in supernatural action,
and he looks forward to the new age for its larger
manifestation. His miracles are evidence to him
that the kingdom is at hand, for they are effected
by that power which belongs to the kingdom and
which is now breaking in upon the present order.
This, it is necessary to observe, was the real sig-
nificance which Jesus attached to his miracles.
He did not regard them as works peculiar to him-

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 69

self and as marking out his personal dignity and
authority; for he insisted that the disciples, also,
if they had faith in God, might exercise a similar
power. He pointed to them, rather, as the signs
of the kingdom. Miracles were now possible be-
cause the new age was near and the Spirit was
already becoming operative. A supernatural
order was presently to set in, and these were its
premonitory signs.

When we take account of this side of Jesus'
thinking his comparative silence on the work of
the Spirit is not diflScult to explain. The con-
ception of the Spirit was covered for him by that
of the kingdom. As he thought of the new age
about to dawn he took for granted the super-
natural power which would rule in it and which
would reveal itself in the new^ community. From
the time of the prophets onward the coming of
the kingdom and the descent of the Spirit on
God's people had been correlative ideas; and Jesus
did not think it necessary to enforce, in ex-
plicit terms, what was self-evident. Whenever he
speaks of the kingdom he presupposes the new
and higher principle which will take possession of
men, enabling them to enter into God's purposes
and to rise above the limitations of their old
nature. Without the gift of such a power the
new life which he anticipated was not to be
realised. In this sense the disciples understood
him. When, after his death, they constituted

70 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

themselves as the Ecclesia to which the kingdom
had been promised, they looked for some evident
sign that the Spirit had, indeed, been given them.
Only thus could they have full assurance that
they had received their part in the new age.

The conception of the Spirit, then, as we find
it in the primitive church, was taken over directly
from Jesus himself. Like the prophets, he thought
of a future in which all God's people would be
brought into a closer relation to God and would
be endowed with higher powers and deeper insight
into the divine will. He chose his disciples as the
heirs of the future, and as such they claimed to
participate in the Spirit. As the men around them
belonged to the present world and were bound
down to the conditions of the natural life, so they
had been given their place in the new, divine
order. Paul, in his development of the idea of
the Spirit, maintained that through faith in
Christ a man's nature was radically transformed.
Hitherto he had been carnal, a mere creature of
earth, devoid of all capacity for the higher life;
but now he became a " spiritual man, " renewed in
his whole being and destined to immortality
through the entrance into him of a divine prin-
ciple. How far this doctrine was elaborated by
Paul himself we cannot say; but, at all events, it
was implicit in the belief which was held from
the very beginning. The church regarded itself

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 71

as in a literal sense a supernatural community.
In virtue of their possession of the Spirit, the be-
lievers in Christ had undergone a change and were
subject to conditions that were not of this world.
At this point, however, we are met with a dif-
ficulty which might seem almost to suggest an
alien influence working on the mind of the church.
Jesus, as we have seen, connected the Spirit, in a
peculiar manner, with his miracles. In those
marvellous works he saw an irruption into the
present of that higher order which would be
realised in the future, and he declared that his
disciples also might share in the miraculous gift.
But when we turn to the life of the primitive
church we no longer find the Spirit associated
with miracles. The evidence of its presence
is discovered rather in the strange phenomena
that signalised Christian worship, and more espe-
cially in the Glossolalia or speaking with tongues.
But while miracles have now a less conspicuous
place, it must be remarked that the idea of miracle
is still the underlying one wherever the work of
the Spirit is in question. It is assumed that the
one characteristic of all spiritual action is power;
that is, an energy which cannot be explained from
merely natural law. When Paul undertakes to
test the genuineness of those who pretend to a
larger measure of the Spirit he says that he will
look solely to their "power"; "for the kingdom
of God is not with word but w4th power." His

72 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

meaning is that the Spirit which is given to the
children of the new age is, above all, dynamic
in its nature. Those who possess it grow capable
of varied activities that seem quite beyond the
range of ordinary human effort. The "spiritual
gifts," when we examine them, all run back to
this fundamental idea. In their different ways
they are the manifestations of a higher mode of
action, and can only be accounted for on the
hypothesis that a divine power has now found
entrance into the habitual order of the world.
The thought is expressed more than once in the
New Testament that the miracles of Jesus had
been only the beginning of a miraculous history.
"The works that I do shall they do also, and
greater works shall they do because I go to the
Father" (John 14 : 12). And this, we can hardly
doubt, was the accepted belief of the early church.
Our Lord's miracles were handed down in the
Gospel tradition not because they were his but
because they were typical and prophetic of the
new era which they had inaugurated. The char-
ismatic gifts, the stronger capacity for labour
and suffering, the moral achievements of the
Christian life, all had their source in that Spirit
of power which had first revealed itself in the
works of Jesus.

It is true, nevertheless, that the Spirit was
chiefly identified not with miracles, in the strict
sense, but with those ecstatic phenomena of

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 73

which Glossolalia was the most remarkable.
The real nature of this spiritual gift can be
gathered with sufficient certainty from Paul's
account of it in I Corinthians, which enables us
to correlate it with the similar phenomena which
have appeared from time to time in religious
history and have not been unknown even in our
own days. Indeed, the records of the Irvingite
movement, the Camisard rising at the end of the
seventeenth century, the Welsh revival of a few
years ago afford us the best commentary on this
chapter in the life of the primitive church.* The
"speaking with tongues" seems to have consisted
in the outpouring of broken words and inarticu-
late sounds under the influence of uncontrollable
feeling. Stirred to his inmost soul by new aspi-
rations, longings, intuitions which craved to be
expressed and for which he could find no lan-
guage, the worshipper was thrown back on those
unintelligible cries. He was like a child who has
not yet acquired words for the struggling thoughts
and emotions which overmaster him. We can
well understand how in that initial period of
surging religious life, when the mighty truths of
Christianity were breaking on men's minds for
the first time, a manifestation of this kind was
inevitable. Christian devotion had not yet

* A psychological analysis, in the Hght of kindred phe-
nomena, has been attempted in two very able recent works:
Mosiman, "Das Zungenreden " ; Lombard, "La Glossolalie."

74 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

formed for itself a language, and the new enthu-
siasm had to find relief in those improvised modes
of utterance. Such, then, was the "speaking
with tongues," and this name applied to it is
highly significant. Several explanations of it
have been suggested, but it is almost certain that
we have the real clew to its meaning in Paul's own
words: "Though I speak with the tongues of men
and of angels." Paul is here contrasting ordinary
human eloquence with the mysterious speech
which came of its own accord in Christian wor-
ship. This Glossolalia he identifies — and the
theory was evidently current in the church — with
the language of the angels. Under the influence
of the Spirit men offered praise to God in a super-
natural tongue, similar to that with which he
was worshipped in heaven.

Why, then, was the Spirit supposed to manifest
itself most of all in this peculiar phenomenon?
The answer to this question is probably to be
sought in the actual sequence of events. Believ-
ing themselves to be the community of the king-
dom, the disciples w^ere seeking for some sign
which would make it evident that the powers of
the age to come had been imparted to them, and
on one memorable occasion while they were met
for prayer the Glossolalia suddenly broke out. It
was something wholly new and inexplicable, and
they welcomed it as the sign they had been wait-
ing for. Henceforth they regarded this as the

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 75

typical manifestation of the Spirit, all the more
so as the experience was found to repeat itself in
all the Christian societies. The belief that the
Spirit was operative in the new gift seemed to be
confirmed by prophecies of scripture, especially
by that striking passage of Joel which is cited
in Peter's speech at Pentecost. But the appeal
to scripture, here as elsewhere, was doubtless
an afterthought. The Glossolalia impressed the
mind of the church not because it seemed to cor-
respond with the signs foretold by Joel but be-
cause it was itself so novel and extraordinary.
It could only be explained on the ground that a
divine power had now been communicated, a
power which could be no other than the Spirit.

The speaking with tongues was the most strik-
ing of the charismatic gifts, and was apparently
the first to manifest itself in a signal fashion. But
when it was once recognised as the work of the
Spirit it was found to be merely the index of a
new power which was now active in the com-
munity, and which was capable of expression in
many different forms. Paul enumerates a vari-
ety of '* gifts" — faith, miracles, healings, prophecy,
helps, and administrations — all of which are the
acknowledged fruits of the Spirit. Though it is
one it is manifold in its activity and is the mould-
ing principle of the Christian life in all its aspects.
Not only the charismatic gifts but the abiding
virtues of faith, hope, love are the outflow of

76 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

that Spirit which is now the possession of the
church. This development of the conception may
be attributed in large measure to Paul himself,
who discovered the far-reaching possibilities of
the early theory. The Spirit which was at first
associated only with strange, unaccountable
phenomena became in his view a moral and re-
ligious power consistently active in the Chris-
tian life. But the idea worked out by Paul was
implicitly present from the beginning. The
church, as the community of the new age, claimed
to be governed by the Spirit — the principle of the
new supernatural order. This principle was sup-
posed to manifest itself in certain specified modes
of action peculiarly impressive in their nature;
but in the last resort it underlay and animated
the whole life of the church.

We here arrive at a question of primary im-
portance, which requires to be answered before
we can rightly understand the New Testament
doctrine either in its earlier or its later phases.
Much is told us of the working of the Spirit in
individual believers. It was recognised that the
divine power laid hold on the varied aptitudes
of men, purifying and enhancing them and ap-
plying them to their proper service in the com-
mon cause. We hear of men who were "full of
the Spirit" as distinguished from ordinary mem-
bers on whom the grace had been bestowed in
inferior measure. Nevertheless, it seems clear

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 77

that the Spirit was considered, in the first in-
stance, to be the common possession of the church
as a whole. This, indeed, was the characteristic of
the church— that it was the spiritual community.
Formerly, the gift of the Spirit had been reserved
for favoured individuals and granted to them
only at rare intervals; the new Israel, in its whole
extent, was endued with the Spirit. Thus the
belief was maintained from the outset that the
individual received the heavenly gift only through
incorporation with the church. By the rite of
baptism he was assimilated to the body within
which the Spirit was operative, and was so ren-
dered capable of sharing in its influence. The
various endowments of which we hear in the New
Testament have all some relation to the common
life of the church. Although exercised by in-
dividuals, they are supposed to belong to the
church as a whole and to work together for its
welfare and enrichment. Paul's discussion of the
spiritual gifts in I Corinthians may be said to
revolve upon this idea. He holds that the gifts
are a common possession. Diverse as they are,
they are all wrought by one and the selfsame
Spirit, which dwells in the whole Ecclesia, though
it distributes its influence among the several mem-
bers. And since the individual possessors of
the gifts are so many instruments of a common
Spirit, they ought to feel that rivalry and self-
assertion are out of place. They are like parts of

78 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

the body, which interact spontaneously with each
other and direct their varied activities to the
same end, in virtue of the one principle of life,
controlling the body as a whole.

The difficulty of understanding the primitive
age arises very largely from our failure to appre-
ciate this idea of a community governed by the
Spirit. We read back into the early history our
own conception of the church as a normal society
and forget that the spiritual idea was radical and
constitutive. The church had examples before it
of organised societies — the Roman Empire, the
Jewish theocracy, the various sects and brother-
hoods within Judaism — and by all of these, in
course of time, it was profoundly influenced.
But its original endeavour was to break away en-
tirely from such models and to stand forth as the
new community, ordered solely by the Spirit.
There was no set ministry, for the gifts of the
Spirit were bestowed on all; no stated mode of
worship, for the Spirit moved as it listed and its
impulses must not be quenched; no formal scheme
of doctrine, which might exclude the new revela-
tions imparted from time to time by the Spirit.
The scattered groups of Christians were not con-
federated by any outward ties; together they
made up the church, in which dwelt the one Spirit,
and no other bond of union was deemed neces-
sary. Even the concerns of ordinary life were
lifted out of the domain of mere prudential ar-

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 79

rangement. At each stage of his missionary jour-
neys Paul left himself to the direction of the Spirit;
and some of his most momentous decisions were
taken with no clearly defined purpose, on the im-
pulse of a vision or a prophetic warning. Thus
in the whole constitution and activity of the
church, effect was given to the idea of *the Spirit.
As other societies were conformed to the rules
and traditions of this age, the community of the
future sought to yield itself without reserve to the
control of the higher power. To adhere stead-
fastly to this ideal proved in the course of time
impossible. As the church grew in numbers and
enlarged its field of action, it was compelled to
submit to some form of organisation, and more
and more, as the enthusiasm of the first age
dwindled, system had to take the place of spon-
taneity. Right on from the latter part of the first
century we can trace the phases of this change,
until at last the free community of the Spirit be-
came the official church, with its dogmas and hier-
archies.

It is mainly from Paul that we derive our knowl-
edge of the earlier conditions, when the spiritual
idea was still operative; and even the statements
of Paul are not fully applicable to the period
before him. Allowance must be made, on the one
hand, for his own broadening and deepening of
the primitive belief; and, on the other, for the fact
that he describes the action of the Spirit in

80 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

churches of heathen origin. It is certain that in
the process of the gentile mission Christianity
was profoundly affected by the contemporary
pagan religions, and this influence was especially
felt in connection with the doctrine of the Spirit.
Ecstatic phenomena formed a regular part of
many heathen cults, and the ideas involved in
them were readily transferred to Christian wor-
ship. Paul himself draws a parallel between the
Spirit which his converts had received as Chris-
tians and that which had formerly impelled them
to the service of dumb idols.* From this it has
sometimes been inferred that the spiritual mani-
festations were chiefly or wholly associated with
the gentile type of Christianity. In Judaism, it
is urged, there was nothing that corresponded
with these phenomena, and they could only have
crept in from the heathen religions in which they
had long been familiar. Such reasoning, however,
fails to take account of the new motives and forces
which were born with Christianity and which
made it from the first essentially different from
the parent religion. Moreover, we have to reckon
with clear evidence that already in the earliest
days at Jerusalem the phenomena declared them-
selves. Apart from the express testimony of
Acts, we can gather from Paul's references that
the spiritual gifts had always had their place in
Christian experience. He assumes as fundamental
* I Cor. 12 : 2.

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 81

articles of belief that the Spirit is bestowed on all
Christians, that without it no man can have part
in Christ, that it is the quickening power which
has its issue in all the new activities. These con-
victions could never have become so generally
and firmly established unless they had been held
from the very commencement.

At the same time, it is highly probable that
the spiritual idea fell into abeyance at Jerusalem
much earlier than in the gentile lands. From the
glimpses afforded us in Acts we receive the im-
pression that the Jerusalem church, even in the
days of Paul, was becoming rigid and formal in
its character; and since the purpose of Luke is to
magnify the mother church, his unconscious wit-
ness to its decline is the more significant. The
change may be attributed to various causes work-
ing in combination. (1) In Jerusalem Christian-
ity had always before it the spectacle of the great
Jewish organisation, and was led to assimilate
itself to this model. Not only so, but constant
intercourse with the temple and the scribal schools
tended to modify its beliefs in the direction of
Judaism. Those elements in its worship and
doctrine which were most distinctively Christian
were apt to be weakened or altogether sup-
pressed. (2) Again, the presence of the original
disciples, while it conferred a glory on the cen-
tral church, must have brought about a certain
arrest in its development. Those chief Apostles,

82 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

who had been companions of the Lord himself,
had a natural right to leadership, and their au-
thority overbore that of the Spirit. Of this we
have the most signal example in the history of
Paul, whose new movement, sanctioned, as he
could not doubt, by the will of the Spirit, was yet
obliged to justify itself before the tribunal of the
Apostles. We are not directly told why Paul at
last abandoned Syria and sought new fields of
labour in distant lands, but it may be surmised
that one of his compelling motives was to escape
altogether from the Jerusalem sphere of influ-
ence. Only thus could he secure full liberty for the
exercise of his spiritual gift. There was genuine
meaning in Paul's contention that he, even more
than Peter and the other Apostles, was the cham-
pion of the original Christian tradition. The
church had come into being as a spiritual com-
munity, but at Jerusalem it had half forgotten its
true character and had put outward authority in
the place of the Spirit. (3) Once more, the very
fact that the church at Jerusalem occupied the
foremost position served to limit its free activity.
The young gentile communities could allow room
for the impulses of the Spirit — yielding to them
in many cases rashly and mistakenly, but at
least preserving the Christian tradition of free-
dom. The mother church was weighed down by
the responsibility that rested on it. It was con-
scious that all the churches looked to it for guid-

THE GIFT OF THE SPIRIT 83

ance and example, and that it must sustain the
dignity of Christianity before the world. Under
these conditions the old spontaneity was no longer
possible, and the gifts of the Spirit were with-
drawn.

But the later church at Jerusalem is not to be
confounded with that which arose in the first
days. Those earliest believers were lifted above
the world of the present and felt that they bore
their part in a supernatural order. They con-
stituted the new community, in which the Spirit
moved like a mighty rushing wind. It was in
this period that the Christian beliefs and insti-
tutions had their origin; and they never entirely
lost the distinctive form which was then impressed
on them. We cannot understand their develop-
ment in the later history until we trace them back
to that first age, when they issued from a living
experience of the Spirit of God.

LECTURE IV

JESUS AS LORD

It has been maintained, in the previous lec-
tures, that the church was the outcome of Jesus'
proclamation of the kingdom. He had foretold
the imminent approach of the new age and
chosen his disciples to be the nucleus of the holy
community that should possess it. They were
assured by their visions of the risen Christ that
his promises were on the way to fulfilment; and
in the strange phenomena which began to mani-
fest themselves in the daily meetings they per-
ceived the action of the Spirit. The power char-
acteristic of that new age on which they were
about to enter was already w^orking in the chosen
people of God.

In this account of the beginning of the church
there has been little reference to what we are
accustomed to consider the one decisive factor.
Did not the whole movement originate in a per-
sonal devotion to Jesus? By the marvellous
experiences which convinced them that he had
risen, the disciples had attained to an absolute
faith in his Messiahship. He had been unjustly
condemned, and on them, as his followers, there

84

JESUS AS LORD 85

devolved the great task of vindicating him and
presenting him in his true character to an unbe-
Heving world. Even his work and message were
half forgotten in the absorbing interest that now
centred on his person, and the whole faith of the
church found utterance in the brief formula of
confession: *' Jesus is Lord."

It is from this point of view that the history of
the first age is usually presented, and in one sense
we have no choice but to accept it. Faith in
Jesus was the ultimate spring of the new move-
ment. All the hopes which now filled the hearts
of his disciples were awakened by the belief that
he was the Messiah and by the knowledge of
him which had made that belief possible. Yet it
does not appear that the immediate interest of
the primitive church was in the person of Jesus.
The attempt to discover the source of our re-
ligion in the loyalty of the disciples and their
anxiety to vindicate the claims of their beloved
Master has in two ways proved seriously mis-
leading: (1) It has concealed the relation be-
tween the teaching of Jesus and that of the early
church. He himself, it is affirmed, was wholly
concerned with the gospel of the kingdom, while
the disciples turned from his message to himself.
In this manner his cause took a fresh direction
after his death. The truths insisted on by Jesus
fell largely out of sight; while he, in his own per-
son, became the one object of faith. Out of this

86 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

estimate of what he had been and done his fol-
lowers evolved a profound theology, which was
not, however, the theology of Jesus. (2) It has
unduly limited our conception of the aims and
character of the church. We assume that at the
outset it was wholly occupied with the defence of
Jesus' Messiahship. In their general religious out-
look the disciples, as we conceive them, were
hardly to be distinguished from the body of their
countrymen, and in one point only did they hold
an independent position. The Messiah, for them,
had already appeared in Jesus of Nazareth. From
this rudimentary belief historians have tried to
deduce the whole wealth of later Christianity,
but the effort is a hopeless one. There must have
been some broader basis to allow for the rearing
of such a superstructure.

So far, indeed, from providing the starting-
point, the mood of personal devotion to Jesus
seems to have arisen as a later stage in Christian
development. Strangely enough, it manifests it-
self first in Paul, who did not belong to the circle
of immediate disciples; and it may be that his
attitude was due, in some measure, to this very
fact. Paul had not listened directly to the teach-
ing of Jesus and could not share in the hopes and
enthusiasms which he had communicated to his
personal followers. From the first his mind had
been concentrated on Jesus himself — on his risen
life, on his sacrifice and the divine love of which

JESUS AS LORD 87

it was the pledge and evidence. To the disciples,
on the other hand, the person of Jesus was asso-
ciated with his message. Their belief in the com-
ing of the kingdom had preceded their knowledge
of his Messiahship, and it continued to occupy
the foremost place. The faith in Jesus, so far
from absorbing or supplanting, served only to
reinforce it. That this was the attitude of the
disciples we can gather from the speeches of
Peter, in which Luke has reproduced for us the
substance of the earliest Christian preaching. It
is true that the Messiahship of Jesus is the cen-
tral theme of these discourses; but they give it
prominence in order to bring out the larger issues
involved in it. Jesus has entered on his Mes-
sianic office; therefore the kingdom must be at
hand, and God's people must avail themselves
of the offered redemption. The emphasis is laid
not so much on the person of Christ as on the
work he is about to accomplish, and the note of
pure loyalty and devotion is almost entirely ab-
sent.

We might certainly have expected that in those
first days, when the impression of the Master's
life was still fresh on the minds of his disciples,
the personal element in their faith would have
expressed itself more strongly. But the apparent
aloofness is not difficult to understand if we try
to realise their circumstances and outlook. They
believed that the coming of the kingdom was only

88 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

a matter of days or weeks, and their thoughts
were directed wholly to the great future that was
so near at hand. Their faith in Jesus could not
be separated from their hope of that future. His
death, as they viewed it, was simply the first
episode of a great drama still in process, and was
presently to be followed by a glorious return. It
was not till a later time that the attitude to Jesus
became one of personal devotion. As the king-
dom delayed its coming the hopes and desires
which it had awakened were drawn more and more
to the Lord himself. The meaning of his life
and death, the divine worth of his personality
were discerned more clearly as the perspective
widened, while in Christian experience his in-
ward and abiding presence was ever more in-
tensely realised. Other influences, likewise, played
their part — the mystical sentiments that gathered
around the Lord's Supper, the ideas that crept
in from gentile forms of worship, the adoption
by Christian thinkers of the Logos speculation.
These causes all combined to enhance the personal
significance of Jesus as time went on, until in the
Fourth Gospel he appears as the one object of
faith. The Christian revelation is identified with
Christ himself.

In the earliest days, then, the belief in the
kingdom was primary. Jesus had impressed on
his disciples that the great consummation was at

JESUS AS LORD 89

hand, and the thought now uppermost in their
minds was that they were the elect community
destined to inherit the new age. But this hope
of the kingdom had become essentially different
from what it had been in Jesus' lifetime. An
absolute guarantee had been given for its fulfil-
ment; for Jesus was now the Messiah. The death
which, according to his teaching, was the con-
dition of his Messiahship had been accomplished;
and his resurrection was evidence, beyond the
reach of doubt, that he had entered on his supreme
office. Hence the coming of the kingdom was
certain, and Jesus himself, in his Messianic char-
acter, would preside over its inauguration. On
the one event of the Parousia, the return in glory
of the Master whom they had known, the whole
faith of the disciples was centred. To this ex-
tent it may be maintained that after Jesus' death
his own person became the chief interest in Chris-
tian thought. The expectation of the kingdom
was now bound up with the belief in his Messiah-
ship and expressed itself in terms of it. But the
wider belief was the primary and fundamental
one. The disciples clung to their faith in Jesus
and waited eagerly for his return, because through
him they would possess the kingdom.

We have now to consider more closely what
was implied in that Messianic belief on which the
church was content to rest its entire hope for the
future. One aspect of it, already touched upon,

90 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

requires at the outset to be clearly apprehended.
The belief that Jesus was the Messiah had refer-
ence not to the life which he had lived on earth
but to his present exalted life. In his resurrec-
tion he had not merely risen from the dead but
had entered on a higher state of being, as the Mes-
siah appointed by God. Paul has declared in a
well-known passage that he concerned himself no
longer with the earthly life of Jesus: " Yea, though
we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now
henceforth know we him no more'' (II Cor. 5 :
16). This saying of Paul is often quoted as mark-
ing the contrast between himself and the earlier
disciples. With all his passionate devotion to
Christ, he lacked the personal knowledge which
had been vouchsafed to the others and was more
than half conscious how much he had lost. But
the attitude of mind which is expressed in the
verse was not peculiar to Paul. We find it re-
flected in all the writings of the New Testament,
and we cannot but regard it as the common at-
titude of the primitive church. The followers of
Jesus, even those who had known him best, en-
deavoured to think of him not as he had been
but as he was now. His life on earth had been
only preliminary to that on which he had now
entered and in which he revealed himself in his
true dignity as the Messiah. It is significant that
the incidents recorded in our Gospels are almost
exclusively those which adumbrate, in some man-

JESUS AS LORD 91

ner, the Messianic vocation of Jesus; and the in-
ference has been drawn from this that the Gospels
were mainly intended as missionary handbooks
supplying evidence for the cardinal topics of Chris-
tian preaching. But undoubtedly the evangelists
wrote, in the first instance, for the church and
collected those reminiscences of Jesus' life which
they found current in the church tradition. If
these are of one prevailing type we must dis-
cover the reason in this — that faith was directed
to Jesus as the Messiah. The events even of his
earthly life were remembered and cherished only
as they seemed to throw light on that higher activ-
ity to which he had now attained.

At the same time we must not conclude, as
some have done, that the figure of Jesus was
merged wholly in that of the heavenly Messiah,
with the result that the earthly life became in-
different to faith. On the contrary, as we are
reminded by the very existence of our Gospel
records, the memory of it was the chief treasure
of the church and exercised a decisive influence.
(1) In the firstlplace, it transformed the Messiah
into a living personaHty endowed with attributes
that could awaken love and reverence and fidel-
ity. It may be true that in the early Christology,
especially that of Paul, the Jewish speculations on
the Messiah are simply transferred to the exalted
Jesus;* but the abstract Jewish Messiah could

* This is the view maintained by Wrede C'Paulus") and
Bruckner ("Die Entstehung der PaiUinischen Christologie")'

92 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

never have become the object of a religion. Be-
hind all the wrappings which were borrowed from
theological speculation there was the person of
Jesus as he had been visibly manifested in his
grace and truth. It was to him and not to the
ideal figure with which he was now identified that
his people directed their faith. (2) Again, the
belief in the Messiahship had its ultimate guar-
antee in the historical life. While they were still
with him, and knew him only as Master and
Teacher, the disciples had learned to surmise the
higher dignity of Jesus by their experience of
what he had been to them. Their confidence in
the resurrection was itself grounded in this ex-
perience: "He hath loosed the bonds of death,"
says Peter, ''because it was not possible that he
should be holden of it." * This impression which
Jesus had made on those who had known his fel-
lowship was the underlying security for all his
claims. The acceptance of him as Messiah and
viceregent of God was in the last resort a personal
homage to the sovereignty of his moral nature.
(3) Once more, as the life confirmed the belief in
the Messiahship, so it was illuminated by it and
invested with a new significance. Jesus had now
exchanged his earlier state of being for a higher
one; yet his new life was in some way continuous
with that which he had lived on earth, and his
will as it now was had been revealed in his former
words and actions. The morality of the church
* Acts 2 : 24.

JESUS AS LORD 93

thus based itself on the character and example of
Jesus. His sayings were collected and grouped
together as the authoritative standard of all Chris-
tian teaching.

In the belief, then, that Jesus was Messiah, it
was implied that this dignity had been bestowed
on him since his death and had been attested by
his resurrection. His earthly life, while it still
profoundly influenced all Christian thought, was
regarded as only the prelude to that true life on
which he had now entered. But the behef in
Jesus' Messiahship was itself no more than an
aspect of the whole belief of the church. Perhaps
the ordinary presentation of the early history has
nowhere erred more grievously than in taking for
granted that faith in the Messiahship was a bare
dogma which had no necessary connection with
anything else. Even if we admit that the primi-
tive belief consisted wholly in the confession
"Jesus is the Messiah," we have to remember
what was involved in that confession. To the
Jewish mind the title *' Messiah" did not signify
a personal dignity but an office and an official
work. The Messiah was the representative of
God in the establishment of the kingdom; and so
entirely did the emphasis fall upon his work that
in many of the apocalyptic visions of the future
he does not appear at all as a personal figure.
The hope of Israel was for the coming of the king-
dom, and the Messiah, even when he is made

94 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

most conspicuous, is nothing but the instrument
through which this hope is to be fulfilled. This is
well illustrated by the fragment preserved to us in
the Gospels from the preaching of John the Bap-
tist. John's mind, it is evident, was absorbed by
the one thought that the kingdom was near at
hand, but in order to press home this thought he
embodies it in a picture of the Messiah, who is al-
ready on his way to execute the divine judgment.
To the primitive disciples the idea was no longer
vague and abstract, as in earlier Jewish thought,
but it was still associated with the traditional
hopes. The Messiah stood for the kingdom, and
the affirmation that he had appeared in Jesus
gathered up in one brief statement a whole clus-
ter of beliefs. It meant, in the first place, that
the kingdom would presently become a reality;
for the divine agent who would establish it had
now been appointed. It meant, further, that
the heirs of the kingdom would be those who
stood in a given relation to Jesus. As Messiah
he would designate the members of the new
community, and none could enter into it except
through him. Once more the belief that he was
Messiah impressed a new meaning on all the con-
ceptions which had hitherto attached themselves
to the hope of Israel. His teaching was now
authoritative, and in the light of it the whole re-
ligious attitude of men had to be radically changed.
Thus the confession of Jesus as Messiah, so far

JESUS AS LORD 95

from standing by itself as an unrelated doctrine,
derived all its meaning from the ideas connoted
by it. From the beginning it was the symbol
of a new faith and of a new outlook on the
world.

The disciples believed, then, that Jesus had
been exalted to the office of Messiah and that he
would shortly return to fulfil his appointed work.
But at a very early time the designation "Mes-
siah" gave place to another, in which the faith
of the church expressed itself even more clearly
and definitely. Already in the days of Paul the
confession which marked out the Christian be-
liever, and which in all probabiHty was solemnly
uttered in the rite of baptism, was embodied in the
words "Jesus is Lord." What is the meaning of
this title, and how did it come to be applied to
Jesus in preference to the title of Messiah? We
have here a question the importance of which has
only been recognised in recent years and which
takes us at once to the very heart of primitive
Christian belief.

Within the last few years attention has been
directed to the striking parallels afforded by the
contemporary cults. Adonis, Serapis, Mithra
were each known to their worshippers under the
title of KvpLo^i, "the Lord"; and we have begun
to learn from the Egyptian papyri how closely
analogous to Christian usage were the various ap-

96 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

plications of the name. "There are gods many
and lords many," says Paul, suggesting by his
words a distinction which would be familiar to
his readers. The "gods" were the acknowledged
members of the Pantheon, while the "lords"
were the new divinities introduced for the most
part from the East and worshipped by special
groups of devotees. One peculiar use of the term
Kvpto^ was in connection with the Csesar worship
which from the time of Nero onward played such
an important part in the religious observances
of the age. The deified emperor could not be re-
garded as a god in the strict sense, and took rank
with the divinities who stood outside of the old
national religions. In subapostolic times the rec-
ognition of Jesus as Lord acquired a fresh sig-
nificance from the Christian aversion to Csesar
worship; and it may be that this contrast is oc-
casionally hinted at in the New Testament.
For example, when Paul declares that Jesus has
the "name which is above every name" he may
be thinking of the usurpation by an earthly king
of the supreme title of Lord, which is due to
Christ alone. But the sharp conflict with Csesar
worship belongs to a later phase of the history,
and may be left out of account in the investiga-
tion of purely New Testament ideas.

The application to Jesus of a name already as-
signed in current usage to the Oriental divinities
is certainly very striking; all the more so as the

JESUS AS LORD 97

cults in question all centred in the idea of re-
demption. The worshipper of Attis or Osiris, in
speaking of his "lord/' had in mind the concep-
tion of a redeemer, no less than the Christian
when he ascribed the same name to Jesus. We
cannot wonder that not a few modern scholars
have been tempted to explain the name as one of
the terms that were adopted by the new religion
from the prevailing cults to which it bore a super-
ficial resemblance. If this could be proved, our
estimate of early Christianity would require in
some important respects to be modified.

But against this view there is one argument
that seems to be practically decisive. It can be
gathered from the evidence that the name was
employed in reference to Jesus at a date so early
that it cannot have been borrowed from any alien
religion. (1) Luke apparently knows of no time
when the church did not regard Jesus as Kvpio<;,
Already in Peter's speech at Pentecost we have
the emphatic statement, "God hath made him
both Lord and Christ" — which implies that from
the beginning the idea of Messiahship was con-
joined with that of Lordship. (2) Paul regularly
speaks of "the Lord" or "the Lord Jesus," and
assumes that this was the name most widely cur-
rent in all the churches. Especially noteworthy
are those passages in the Epistles where the name
is expressly associated with the common tradition,
e, g., "I have received from the Lord that which

98 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

also I delivered unto you, that the Lord Jesus
took bread." It can hardly be doubted that Paul
is here reproducing the language of those earlier
Apostles from whom he had taken over the broad
outline of the Christian teaching. To them Jesus
was "the Lord," and it was from them that the
name was transmitted to the church at large.
(3) Several expressions in the New Testament are
marked by their Aramaic form as terms which
had come down from the original worship of the
church, when a mission outside of Palestine had
not yet been thought of. Among these primitive
expressions, cherished and left untranslated be-
cause they preserved a link with the earliest days
is "Maranatha"— "the Lord cometh," or "come,
0 Lord." This prayer or promise was adopted
as the Christian watchword, and of itself is suf-
ficient evidence, though we had no other, of the
early adoption of the title "Lord." It was em-
bodied in a phrase which had acquired a ritual
value at a time when the gentile mission was just
beginning. (4) Scarcely less decisive is the other
expression several times used by Paul with a
solemn emphasis, "Jesus is Lord." It is evident
that he intends these words to recall a formula
well known to all Christians as the summary of
their belief, and the formula, we may be almost
certain, was that of the confession pronounced
at baptism. On such an occasion and for such a
purpose no language could be employed which had

JESUS AS LORD 99

not been consecrated by the earliest traditions
of the church.

We can have little hesitation, therefore, in con-
cluding that the name "Lord" as applied to Jesus
was part of the original Christian teaching. Ideas
derived from the heathen cults may have gath-
ered around it in later days; indeed, it may itself
account in no small measure for the entrance of
those alien influences into Christianity. The mis-
sionaries proclaimed Jesus in the gentile lands
under a name that was already bestowed on cer-
tain divinities; and in this way a confusion would
arise in the minds of heathen converts. Elements
that belonged to the service of the other "lords"
would find their way imperceptibly into Christian
worship. This much may be granted, but if we
go further and maintain that the name was
actually borrowed from paganism, we must as-
sume that in its very inception the church was
affected by foreign influences. Some radical
critics have not shrunk even from this conclu-
sion.* They fall back on a theory that the dis-
trict of Galilee to which the original disciples be-
longed was Hellenistic as much as Jewish, and
that we must therefore reckon from the outset
with an infusion of pagan ideas. A theory of
this kind is necessary if the name "Lord," which
reaches so far back into the history, is to be traced

*A typical writer of this school is Maurenbrecher, "Von
Jerusalem nach Rom."

100 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

to a pagan origin; but it hardly requires a serious
refutation. The disciples, as all the evidence
proves, were entirely Jewish in blood and train-
ing and sympathy, and before we are driven to an
alien source for that title which they applied to
Christ we have to consider whether it may not
be explained along the lines of native Jewish
thought.

In the Old Testament "the Lord'* is uniformly
the name for God, and it may appear at first
sight as if this divine name were simply trans-
ferred to Jesus. This view has been strongly
held by some writers, who adduce in proof of it
a number of scriptural quotations in the New Tes-
tament which are so applied as to identify Jesus
with "the Lord." * These passages are certainly
surprising in their boldness; but we can draw no
other inference from them than that advantage
was taken, for the purposes of Christian teaching,
of the ambiguous meaning of the word /cvpio^.
It is inconceivable that in the first age, when the
monotheistic idea was still maintained in all its
strictness, Jesus was regarded as one with God.

In any case, the transference to Jesus of the
Old Testament title does not necessarily imply
that he was called by the divine name. It is
well known that through motives of reverence,
or perhaps of superstition, the Jews of the later

* Cf. I Cor. 1 : 31; 10 : 22; II Cor. 3 : 16; 8 : 21; 10 : 17;
Phil. 2 : 10 J'.; Eph. 4 : 8; Heb. 1 : 10.

JESUS AS LORD 101

age refrained from uttering the direct name of
God, and substituted for it another, which is
rendered in the Septuagint by KvpLo<; and in our
own version by "the Lord." This is not a per-
sonal name, but a title indicating sovereignty,
and has its counterpart in the term "servant,"
which is used of the worshipper. It expresses
that conception of a divine being which was com-
mon to all Oriental religions and which was sug-
gested by the prevailing character of Oriental
monarchy. As each of the neighbouring peoples
had its national divinity, who was worshipped
as "Baal" or "Moloch," "master" or "king," so
to Israel Jahveh was "the Lord." Here, it may
be observed in passing, we can discover the true
point of contact between the Oriental cults and
Christianity in the employment of the name
Kvpio^. Judaism was itself an Oriental religion,
and from time immemorial had applied to God
the same term of homage as was customary in
those new faiths which were now invading the
Roman Empire. From it and not from its younger
rivals Christianity adopted the term.

In the Old Testament usage, then, "the Lord"
is a general rather than a proper name. It did
not denote God in his unique and transcendent
personality, but was chosen for the express pur-
pose of avoiding such a presumptuous reference.
God in himself was unknowable, unnamable; and
the worshipper was content to speak of him under

102 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

a title that served only to mark his own attitude
of absolute submission. God was "the Lord";
he himself the servant. When we consider it
from this point of view we can understand how
the name was borrowed from the Old Testament
and transferred to Jesus. There was no thought
of identifying Jesus with the ineffable God; al-
though it may be granted that from its association
with the idea of God the name had acquired a
peculiar shade of meaning and implied not sub-
mission merely but awe and worship. But in
itself it was only an abstract title denoting king-
ship and authority, and this limitation of its
meaning had always been clearly recognised.
Jesus had now become King of his people — stood
over against them in such a relation that they
were conscious of his right to their utter obedi-
ence. He was "the Lord" and they his servants
or "bond-slaves."

The name may possibly have connected itself
at the beginning with a definite aspect of the
Messianic belief. According to a Jewish doctrine
which finds expression in several of the Apoca-
lypses, the new age was to be ushered in by a reign
of the Messiah. For a given period he would
wield authority as the representative of God, until
his work was completed and God himself would
assume the sovereignty. These ideas are set
forth by Paul in a famiUar passage of I Corin-
thians: "He shall reign till he hath put all things

JESUS AS LORD 103

under his feet; then he shall deliver up the king-
dom to God the Father, that God may be all in
all." * The passage is soHtary in Paul's writings,
and the view it presents is out of harmony with his
deeper religious instincts, which refuse to admit
a mere transient and provisional value in the work
of Christ. We can hardly be wrong in assuming
that here, as in other instances, he has for-
mally accepted certain traditional elements with-
out any attempt to reconcile them with his own
characteristic thought. He may have borrowed
directly from Jewish speculation, but more prob-
ably he makes room for a conception which had
already estabHshed itself in Christian doctrine. It
reappears in the book of Revelation, where the
intermediate reign of Christ is definitely limited
to a period of a thousand years. The name KvpLO<;,
then, may possibly have borne some reference to
this peculiar theory of a Messianic reign which
would give place, in the end, to an absolute reign
of God. By and by would come the great con-
summation, but as yet it was the opening period
of the new age in which the Messiah was to be
recognised as Lord.

The title of Kvpio^ was broadly equivalent to
that of Messiah; but it carried with it a more
specific meaning, and here we may discern the
true reason for its adoption by the primitive
church. It was ascribed to Jesus not only in
* I Cor. 15 : 28.

104 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

his capacity of Messiah but in his relation to his
people. "For us/' says Paul, "there is one Lord,
Jesus Christ" (I Cor. 8:6). In the old order
now passing away there were many sovereigns
who laid claim to men's obedience — earthly kings
and potentates, gods many and lords many. But
a new community had come into existence cor-
responding with the new age, and the only head
whom it acknowledged was Jesus Christ. By
confessing him as its Lord the church gave ex-
pression to the consciousness of its unique char-
acter and vocation. It declared itself to be the
community of the future, chosen by Christ and
owing its allegiance to him alone.

A twofold reference was thus involved in the
designation of Jesus as Lord: (1) On the one
hand, there was the conviction that he had now
entered on the full prerogatives of his Messianic
office. Formerly he had been Master and Teacher,
now he had commenced his reign. It is true that
Paul, in several of his allusions to Jesus' earthly
life, speaks of him as "the Lord," and in so doing
he seems to be following the uniform practice of
the church.* Already, on the night on which he
was betrayed, it was "the Lord Jesus" who in-
stituted the supper. But we cannot infer from
such passages that Jesus even in his earthly life

* Cf. the designation of James as "the Lord's brother" —
itself a striking proof of the use of the xupio? title by the
primitive community in Jerusalem.

JESUS AS LORD 105

was conceived as exercising the rights of Lordship.
It is evident, rather, that the name by which
he was now known had come to be inseparably-
attached to him, so that it was employed even
in connection with his earthly ministry. The
definite import of the name is that assigned to it
by Peter at Pentecost: "God hath now made him
both Lord and Christ." (2) On the other hand,
by the use of the title the church declared its own
peculiar relation to the Messianic king. It had
broken with the present order and had thrown
in its lot with the new and higher order. Jesus
had recognised it as his holy community over
which he reigned as Lord. The belief in his Mes-
siahship might conceivably be held by one who
was still outside of the circle of his people; but to
call him by the name of "Lord" was itself the
assertion of a claim upon him, a right of citizen-
ship in his kingdom. For this reason the bap-
tismal confession took the form of "Jesus is
Lord." By making this declaration, the convert
not merely expressed a belief that Jesus was the
Messiah but brought himself into a bond of
union with Jesus. Acknowledging him as Lord,
he passed over by that act into the Christian
church and became possessed of those mysteri-
ous privileges of which it held the keeping. So,
as contrasted with Messiah, Kvpio<; was the name
that implied surrender to Jesus and participation
in his reign. It was attributed to him by those

106 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

within the chosen community, and their use o!
it was the mark of their high calling. " No man,"
says Paul, "can call Jesus Lord but by the Holy
Spirit"; that is, to confess him by that name is
proof that you are numbered among his people on
whom the gift of the Spirit has been bestowed.

It is from this point of view that we must
understand that conception of faith which was
henceforth to determine the whole nature of
Christianity. One of the earliest names by which
the disciples called themselves was "the behev-
ers" (ot irLarevovTe^) ; and the primary meaning
of the name admits of little doubt. The "be-
lief" which it denoted was the acknowledgment
of the Messianic right of Jesus. While the out-
side world averred that he had been justly put
to death as a false Messiah, his own followers be-
lieved his claim. This was all that was directly
signified by faith; yet we altogether misappre-
hend its import, even in the earliest days, when
we explain it as nothing else than the intellectual
assent to a given thesis. The Christian confes-
sion, as we have seen, was expressed in the form
"Jesus is Lord," and by making this confession
the convert not only declared his belief that
Jesus was the Messiah but placed himself in a
certain relation to Jesus. He submitted his life
to be ruled by Jesus. He broke with the present
order of things and identified himself with that
new community in which Jesus reigned. From

JESUS AS LORD 107

the beginning we find the idea of faith vitally
associated with that of *' salvation." To accept
Jesus as Lord implied that you had transferred
your allegiance from this world, which was pres-
ently to undergo the judgment and had your por-
tion in the kingdom of God. It has been custom-
ary to assume that Paul radically transformed the
idea of faith which had been given him by the
early church. The mere intellectual act of belief
became for him an act of w^ill, of entire self-sur-
render. Paul was, indeed, the first to analyse the
conception of faith and to exhibit it in its true
significance for the Christian life; but the con-
ception itself was present and fully operative from
the beginning. In the same act whereby they
acknowledged the claim of Christ, the earliest
converts subjected their wills to him, placed them-
selves under his protection, threw in their lot
with his cause. All that was subsequently meant
by faith was implicit in the confession "Jesus is
Lord."

In one respect, indeed, Paul infused a new ele-
ment into the primitive conception or at least
gave clear expression to an element that had lain
hidden. He connected faith in Christ with that
personal devotion to him which lay at the heart
of his own religion. The love and reverence which
Jesus had awakened in his disciples had always
remained with them and had given meaning and
reality to their belief in his Messiahship. But

108 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

this estimate of his person was merged in that of
his oflBce. He was the Lord who would reign in
the new age, and by confessing him they were
marked out as the people of the kingdom. With
Paul, however, the object of faith is Christ in his
own person. "He is made unto us wisdom and
righteousness and sanctification and redemption'*
(I Cor. 1 : 30). Faith has its issue in the mystical
union with Christ, whereby the life that is in him
communicates itself to the believer. This mood
of personal devotion appears to have begun with
Paul, and may partly be explained from his pe-
culiar temperament and the influences by which
his thinking was affected. But in the last resort
we can recognise in it the inevitable development
of Christian thought. Jesus had given his mes-
sage under apocalyptic forms, and after his death
it continued to be enclosed within this framework.
The disciples were absorbed in the thought of the
coming kingdom, and their faith was directed to
Jesus as the Lord through whom they would pos-
sess the kingdom. But as time went on the apoca-
lyptic forms tended to fall away. It was under-
stood, ever more clearly, that the new life had
been given to men in Christ himself and that
fellowship with him was the true fulfilment of the
kingdom of God.

LECTURE V

THE RELATION OF THE CHURCH TO JUDAISM

The Christian community grew up at Jeru-
salem under the shadow of the temple and the
rabbinical schools, and its first members were of
Jewish birth and had been nurtured in the na-
tional customs and traditions. In view of these
undoubted facts, it has been commonly assumed
that Christianity at the outset was scarcely dis-
tinguishable from Judaism. So far from surmis-
ing that they were the pioneers of a new religion,
the disciples were anxious to maintain their status
as orthodox Jews; and it was the supreme service
of the Apostle Paul that he asserted the original-
ity and independence of the gospel. He did not
succeed except at the cost of a violent struggle,
and even to the end the great mass of Jewish con-
verts refused to follow him. Now, we have al-
ready seen reason to believe that this reading of
the primitive history is a superficial one. The
Christian movement, disguised as it was under
Jewish forms, was essentially new, and this was
recognised even by its earliest adherents. But
the whole question of the relation of the primitive

109

110 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

church to Judaism is so difficult and complex,
and is so vitally bound up with larger issues, that
it demands a separate investigation.

It may be admitted that in the commonly ac-
cepted view there is much that appears to cor-
respond with the historical facts. The disciples
had evidently no intention of breaking with
Judaism, and never expected that their teaching
would in the end subvert it. While associating
as a brotherhood and holding to their faith in
Jesus as the Messiah, they continued to show loy-
alty to the ancient ordinances. In the speeches
ascribed to Peter in the opening chapters of Acts
there is no suggestion of a menace to the beliefs
and institutions of Judaism. On the contrary,
Peter is careful to preserve an attitude of friendli-
ness to his Jewish countrymen. He attributes
their rejection of Jesus to ignorance (Acts 3 : 17),
and refuses to admit that they have incurred any
permanent stain of guilt, much less a final con-
demnation. By the acknowledgment of their
great error they are to be stirred up to a more
earnest repentance; for in spite of all that has
passed they are the true heirs of the covenant, and
the promises given by God through the prophets
still remain valid for them and their children
(Acts 3 : 24-36; 2 : 39). The feeUng toward
Judaism which thus pervaded the earliest Chris-
tian preaching, has not wholly disappeared even
in the writings of Paul. He, too, declares that

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 111

God's covenant with Lis chosen people cannot
fall to the ground and that their seeming rejection
can be only temporary. The gentiles are reminded
of their incalculable debt to Israel, and are taught
to recognise that, notwithstanding its present un-
belief, Israel has a prior claim which will yet be-
come effectual.

It does not follow, however, that the disciples
aimed at nothing more than to constitute a sect
within the parent religion. With the fullest con-
sciousness that they had come into possession of
something new, they may yet have sought to re-
tain their hold on the system they had inherited
and to construe their new faith by the categories
which it supplied. In the history of every great
movement the new wine is poured, to begin
with, into old bottles. Men take for granted that
the existing order must continue and will not ac-
knowledge that they have definitely broken with
it. They avail themselves of its language and
conceptions, and imagine that they are only re-
modelling it, when, in point of fact, they are build-
ing on fresh foundations. This was inevitably
the position of the first disciples. Judaism was
their whole world of thought, and the idea of
escaping from it did not present itself to their
minds. Assuming its validity and permanence
as self-evident, they tried to find room in it for
their new beliefs and to express them in terms of
it. None the less they were sensible of the diver-

112 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

gence of those beliefs from the current Judaism.
While they clung to the old presuppositions —
for they could conceive of no others — they were
secretly aware of their inadequacy and were
reaching out beyond them. In one sense it is
true that Christianity did not assert itself as a
new religion until Paul severed the bonds that
united it with the Law. But, when all is said,
Paul did nothing more than recognise as a prin-
ciple what had always been true in fact. The
church, though allying itself with Judaism, was
inwardly separate from it — a new organism with
a mission and character of its own.

But the initial acceptance of Judaism is not to
be explained wholly from this unwillingness or
inability to break away from an established tra-
dition. For the very reason that it was aware of
its own special calling, the church held fast to the
Jewish connection. The inconsistency of the new
religion with the old was sufficiently apparent
from the first, and in ordinary course a separation
would have been effected before the days of Paul.
But the earlier Apostles refused to make the
separation. They were convinced that in order
to realise its essential idea the church required to
maintain its link with Judaism.

At the risk of repetition it is here necessary to
insist once more on that conception of the Ec-
clesia on which the Christian brotherhood was
founded. The belief had come down from the age

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 113

of the prophets that there had always been in
Israel a "remnant" which had stood for the
nation in its ideal character amidst all the moral
failure and unworthiness. It was claimed that
this genuine people of God was now represented
by the Christian church. Not only was the
church continuous with the true Israel of the
past, but its title depended on the fact of its con-
tinuity. It was heir to the promises in so far as
it could prove itself one with the faithful commu-
nity to which they had been given. This concep-
tion of the Ecclesia from which it took its depar-
ture involved a twofold relation between primitive
Christianity and Judaism.

On the one hand, the church was conscious
that it stood apart from the nation. As in the
past there had been a clear distinction between
the chosen remnant and Israel as a whole, so
now the Ecclesia had its own calling in w^hich
Israel did not participate. It rested its confidence
on other grounds than those of racial descent
and prerogative. This is plainly brought out
even in those speeches of Peter which seem to
prove conclusively that as yet there was no
thought of separation. Peter declares, in so many
words, that the nation has no share in those hopes
which have been awakened by the resurrection
of Jesus. The promise was, indeed, made to the
Jews, "to you and to your children," but at pres-
ent they are outside of the scope of its opera-

114 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

tion. It is reserved for the Christian brother-
hood, and men must attach themselves to that
brotherhood by faith in Christ before they can
obtain their inheritance. On this distinction of
the church from the larger community of the
nation the whole argument of Peter may be said
to turn.

But, on the other hand, the church laid em-
phasis on its solidarity with the nation. The true
Israel, into whose traditions it had entered, had
been a portion of the actual Israel. It inherited
the promises not in its own right but as repre-
senting the nation in its higher calHng. Israel
had been the object of God's choice; and this was
still true, although there was only a minority
that had proved worthy of the privileges which
were offered to all. This conviction, which is
marked so clearly in the prophets, was held no
less firmly in the early church. It was assumed
that the Ecclesia, while it constituted a body
apart, was yet involved in the natural Israel and
derived its title through the nation. Paul was the
first who grasped the idea of a purely spiritual
community — a people descended from Abraham
in so far as they shared the faith of Abraham.
But it is worth noting that even Paul did not
succeed in entirely freeing himself from the belief
that the higher vocation was in some manner in-
herent in the race. To the question, "What ad-
vantage, then, hath the Jew? " he answers un-

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 115

hesitatingly: "Much every way."* He cannot
forget that he himself has kinship with the people
"to whom pertaineth the adoption and the glory
and the giving of the Law and the service of God
and the promises; whose are the fathers, and of
whom, concerning the flesh, Christ came." f If
this sense of the prerogatives of the nation still
clung to the mind of Paul, we cannot wonder
that it coloured the thinking of the older Apos-
tles who had not yet contemplated the possibility
of a church that should include others than Jews
within its membership. Distinguishing though
they did between the true and the historical Israel,
they yet assumed their interrelation as self-evi-
dent. The very idea of an Ecclesia implied that
of a chosen nation.

We have to reckon, therefore, with a twofold
attitude to Judaism, and both sides must be taken
into account if we would rightly understand the
controversy which was in process throughout the
lifetime of Paul. The controversy inevitably
centred on the relation of Christianity to the Law.
The mere racial sentiment had already been so
far relaxed that submission to the Law, with its
accompanying seal of circumcision, was accepted
as equivalent to actual Jewish descent. And with
the rise of the gentile mission the question be-
came acute as to whether the Law was obligatory

* Romans 3 : 1, 2. t Romans 9 : 3-5.

116 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

on those who had complied with the condition of
faith in Christ. In the earlier days the question
could not present itself in a clear-cut form, as it
did later; but from the beginning the church
must have held some theory as to the relation of
faith and the Law. How far is it possible to get
behind the Pauline conflict and to determine the
place which was assigned to the Law in primitive
Christian thought?

It is apparent — alike from the testimony of
Acts and of Paul's Epistles — that the early dis-
ciples conformed to the Law in the same manner
as their Jewish countrymen. Indeed, it was this
fidelity to the Law that proved the safeguard of
the infant church, enabling it to survive within
the very citadel of Judaism until it became strong
enough to hold its own. The immunity enjoyed
by the disciples has often been regarded as one
of the chief problems of the early history. They
settled at Jerusalem immediately after the death
of Jesus, when the very men who had so sedu-
lously planned his destruction were still in power.
Yet for a period of several years they remained
unmolested and were allowed to carry on a vig-
orous propaganda. It is the manifest purpose
of the writer of Acts to make out that Christian-
ity had always suffered persecution at the hands
of the Jews, but he has to admit that during the
first critical years it was left at liberty. He tells,
indeed, of an inquiry into the new teaching on the

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 117

part of the council, and by the use of a double
narrative of what seems to be the same incident
he gives us the impression of two separate at-
tacks. But it is clear, by his own showing, that
the inquiry resulted in nothing more serious than
an admonition. Even when a real persecution
broke out at last, in consequence of the aggres-
sive preaching of Stephen, it was evidently partial
in its operation. The Jewish authorities distin-
guished between two parties in the church, and,
while the adherents of Stephen were dispersed
and brought to trial, the Apostles themselves con-
tinued at Jerusalem in the enjoyment of their
previous freedom. This toleration can hardly be
explained on the ground that the new movement
was an obscure one, which was purposely disre-
garded lest an ofiScial ban might bring it into
prominence. A wisdom of this kind is rarely to
be found among jealous ecclesiastics holding a
monopoly of spiritual power. Moreover, it is
evident from the sparing of the Apostles after
the death of Stephen that no hostility was shown
to the Christian movement for its own sake.
Nor can we accept Luke's explanation, embodied
in the speech ascribed to Gamaliel, that the
Jewish leaders had agreed to suspend their judg-
ment until it should appear from the success or
failure of the mission whether it was of God.
As a matter of fact, the eventual success, which
ought on this hypothesis to have secured its recog-
nition, was the signal for the outbreak of perse-

118 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

cution. It seems possible to account in only one
way for the tolerant attitude so long observed by
the authorities. They were the appointed guard-
ians of the Law, and the disciples, while making
no concealment of their new beliefs, remained
faithful to the Law. Judaism, it must be borne in
mind, was, in the first instance, a ceremonial code,
conforming, in this respect, to the general type of
ancient religion, in which mere belief played little
part. We know that in Greece and Rome there
was room for a wide diversity of philosophical
opinion so long as the accepted religious cere-
monies were observed in due form. Religion, to
the ancient mind, was not so much a matter of
belief as of praxis; Hberty was allowed for an
endless modification of doctrine, while the ritual
was inflexibly maintained. Judaism, it is true,
was based on doctrine to a much greater extent
than the other religions of the time, and one be-
lief— that of the unity of God — was held with an
uncompromising tenacity. But apart from this
and the dogmas which immediately flowed from
it, opinion was left free. Pharisees and Saddu-
cees were at variance on cardinal points of faith.
The sect of the Essenes had grafted on the stem
of orthodox Judaism many strange speculations,
borrowed apparently from the East; yet the Es-
senes were not only recognised as pious Jews but
were held in peculiar reverence because of their
exact observance of the Law. A still more con-
spicuous instance is that of Philo, who resolved

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 119

the whole Old Testament teaching into a specu-
lative system, derived from Plato and the Stoics,
without ever ceasing to regard himself as a faith-
ful Jew. Numberless Jews, especially among the
Dispersion, seem to have exercised a similar free-
dom. Thus, we are not to think of the Judaism
of the first century as a strictly uniform system.
It contained within itself a hundred sects holding
beliefs of the most varied character but all ac-
knowledging the validity of the Law. Between
the more eccentric sects and the general body of
traditional Judaism there might be bitter con-
troversy, but their right to a place within the
borders of the national rehgion was not seriously
called in question.

We may conclude, then, that Christianity in
its initial period shared in the Hberty that was
granted, as a natural right, in matters of belief.
The authorities may well have been suspicious
of the new movement, but they could urge no
valid reason for proceeding against it so long as
the legal orthodoxy of its adherents was un-
doubted. It was only when a party in the church
took up a critical attitude toward the venerable
institutions of Jewish worship that official Judaism
became alarmed, although even then it exempted
from the persecution those who remained faithful
to the ceremonial religion.

Admitting, however, that Christianity was re-
garded from the outside as a mere variant type of

120 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Judaism, we have now to consider whether this
view corresponded with that of the church itself.
Are we to infer from its acquiescence in the Law
that it sought to remain on the footing of a sect
within the pale of the national religion? The
answer to this question has often been confused
by failure to allow for a difference between the
earlier and later conditions of the church at Jeru-
salem. There are clear indications that after the
death of Stephen, and still more after the general
persecution under Herod Agrippa in the year 42,
the mother community became increasingly Jew-
ish in its sympathies. A strong party raised op-
position to Paul on the express ground that he was
subverting the authority of the Law; and it was
able to claim, apparently with some show of reason,
that the church at Jerusalem was in sympathy
with it. But it seems more than probable that
the earlier attitude was wholly different. Paul
emphatically declares that the party which op-
posed him consisted of "false brethren," * and in-
sists that between himself and the older Apostles,
although there might be divergence of opinion,
there was no real antagonism. In this connec-
tion his account of the dispute at Antioch is
particularly illuminating. He aflBrms that Peter,
although he finally took an opposite side, was of
the same mind as himself and was overborne in
spite of his real convictions. So thoroughly was
he assured of Peter^s true sentiments that he did
* Gal. 2 : 4.

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 121

not hesitate to accuse him openly of "hypoc-
risy." It is commonly assumed that these senti-
ments of Peter — if Paul is correct in his judgment
of them — were peculiar to Peter himself. He
was a man of rpen, catholic nature, and his per-
sonal intercourse with Jesus had deepened and
purified his instincts. At a distance from the
contracting Judean atmosphere he had ventured
to give scope to his larger view of Christianity,
although he shrank back when pressure from
Jerusalem was brought to bear on him. But we
miss the significance of the whole incident when
we read in it nothing more than the individual
attitude of Peter. Paul, it is evident, means us
to think of Peter as representing the view which
was characteristic of the primitive church, al-
though it had been perverted by the influence
of the "false brethren." It is this that gives
point to Paul's rebuke of the older Apostle. He
appeals not so much to his private conscience as
to his knowledge of the true position of the church.
Peter, it is suggested, must know in his heart
that this practice which he is countenancing is
the later innovation, while Paul has taken his
stand on the genuine primitive tradition.

What, then, was this tradition to which Peter
had been disloyal? It is clearly set forth in the
words of remonstrance which Paul addressed to
him, and which he repeats in his narrative of the
incident. "We who are Jews by nature and not

122 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

sinners of the gentiles, knowing that a man is
not justified by the works of the Law but by the
faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in
Jesus Christ that we might be justified by the
faith of Christ and not by work? of the Law"
(Gal. 2 : 15, 16). Faith in Christ, and faith alone,
is necessary to salvation. This, according to
Paul, is not merely his own interpretation of the
gospel, but is shared with him by the primitive
Apostles. The Judaists, who contend that works
of the Law are required in addition to faith, have
corrupted the original teaching of the church.

Now, it might appear at first sight as if Paul
here showed a complete ignorance of the earlier
situation or viewed it solely through the medium
of his own beliefs. The disciples, as we have seen,
had no intention of breaking away from the Law.
The sharp opposition between works of the Law
and faith in Christ did not exist for them, and
only emerged in the course of that controversy of
which Paul himself was the centre. That Paul
should have imputed to Peter a view that was so
peculiarly his own has often appeared incredible,
and attempts have been made to explain the
passage quoted above as a parenthetical reflec-
tion with no bearing on anything that was ac-
tually said at Antioch. It is, indeed, probable
that Paul gives only an abstract of his speech
and throws the argument into theological lan-
guage which he may not have literally used.

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 123

But the passage can hardly be construed in any-
other way than as part of the remonstrance; in-
deed, as the essential part, which lends it force
and meaning. Paul declares in so many words
that to the primitive church as to himself faith
was everything and the Law a mere side issue, and
on this fact he is content to rest his cause. Nor
is there any fair reason to doubt that this account
of the primitive position was substantially correct
and was so recognised by Peter. The church in
its earliest form was composed wholly of Jews or
Jewish proselytes by whom the Law was accepted
as something normal and inevitable. It was
possible for them to continue their adherence to
it and yet to be fully conscious that its value was
altogether secondary. Jesus himself had con-
formed to the Law, as to an established system,
while he never confused this conventional rule
of life \sdth the higher spiritual requirements, and
his disciples adopted it in a like manner. With-
out ever questioning that the Law was obligatory,
they yet perceived that it belonged to the circum-
ference and not to the essence of religion. They
disregarded it in their teaching and laid the
emphasis on faith alone as the condition of sal-
vation. It may seem paradoxical to affirm that
the purely Jewish church, confined to the city of
Jerusalem, was freer in its attitude toward Judaism
than the active missionary church of a later time.
But in reality this was not only possible but nat-

124 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

ural. It was their contact with the gentiles,
consequent on the mission, which accentuated in
the minds of Jewish believers their sense of a
special privilege. They were compelled to reflect
on their relation to the Law and either to aban-
don it altogether or to assign it a definite place
alongside of faith. In the earlier period, when they
had to deal solely with their Jewish countrymen,
the question of the Law could be set aside. They
insisted not on that which they held in common
with other Jews but on that which was their own
possession. Faith in Christ stood out as the one
thing needful, while the Law was frankly acknowl-
edged to be indifferent. It was Paul's service to
Christianity that he had the boldness and con-
sistency to maintain this ground even when con-
ditions were changed and the gospel was offered
to the gentiles. But he was justified in his plea
that the belief upheld by him was nothing else
than the original belief of the church.

At the so-called council of Jerusalem the prob-
lem of the Law was formally discussed by the
church leaders and was settled, apparently, on
the basis of a compromise; that the Law should
still be binding on Jewish converts while gentiles
should be left free. From this decision of the
council it is perilous to draw any far-reaching
conclusions. Apart from the many obscurities
and contradictions of the two accounts in Acts

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 125

and Galatians, we have to make allowance for the
special circumstances by which the council was
affected. A number of conflicting interests and
types of opinion had to be consulted, and the
settlement agreed upon may not have repre-
sented the normal attitude of the church. More-
over, the drift of the mother community toward
Judaism had now been in process for some years;
and from the decision adopted by the council we
cannot form any certain estimate as to the original
Christian position. Yet if any attempt was made
to preserve a consistency with older traditions
we may discern two facts that were acknowleged
in the compromise. On the one hand, the Law had
never been regarded as more than secondary. If
it had held its place from the first as a necessary
condition of salvation the Apostles could not have
conceded to Paul that the gentiles should be re-
leased from its provisions. By advancing half
the way with him they in reality granted his
whole principle. They recognised that he was no
innovator but was merely carrying out to its log-
ical issue the authentic teaching of the church.
On the other hand, while it was subordinate to
faith, the Law had possessed a certain value. By
the decision of the Apostles a place was still
reserved for it, and we have no right to suppose
that they were actuated by mere poHcy or timid-
ity. Their sympathies, on the contrary, seem to
have been on the side of the Law, and they did not

126 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

make their partial concession without some mis-
giving. The church, as they knew it, had always
held to the Law in the belief that thus alone it
could realise its vocation. Whatever concessions
might be made to the new requirements, the
church must still, in some manner, attach itself
to the Law.

In the decision of the council, therefore, we can
recognise the attempt to do justice to both sides
of a twofold tradition which had come down from
the earlier days. Confronted with the definite
question whether the Law must be imposed on all
who sought salvation through Christ, the Apos-
tles had no choice but to declare on the side of
freedom. Christianity, they had to acknowledge,
was wholly independent of the Law. Yet they
did not feel themselves at liberty to break with
the Law entirely. Some compromise must be
adopted whereby the new religion might still re-
main anchored to it as it had been from the be-
ginning. What was the motive that underlay
this hopeless effort to retain the Law while in
principle it was discarded? Other influences may
have played their part and have determined the
form of the compromise, but behind them all, if
our reasoning has been correct, was the feeling
that the church must justify its title to be the
new Israel. As the Ecclesia it was not merely a
spiritual community now asserting itself for the
first time, but was one with God's elect people in

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 127

the past. The destiny it sought to fulfil was that
to which God had been guiding his saints through
all the centuries of Jewish history. His promises
had been given to the fathers and could only be
inherited by those who stood in the line of true
succession. Thus to early Christian thinking it
was imperative that the church should preserve
its continuity with the historical Israel. It was
indeed the new community, and membership in
it was conditioned solely by the confession of
Jesus as Lord. But, none the less, it represented
Israel, and its claims were rooted in this identity
with God's chosen people. For this reason it was
deemed necessary that the Law should obtain
at least a formal recognition even though the
church was now founded on the new principle of
faith. In itself the Law could effect nothing to-
ward the purpose of salvation, but it was the char-
acteristic mark of Israel, inseparable from the
covenant which God had made with his people.
By discarding the Law the Christian community
might sever that vital connection with the past
which constituted it the Ecclesia.

When we thus conceive of the primitive atti-
tude a whole side of Paul's polemic becomes more
clearly intelligible. He set himself to demon-
strate not only that the Law cannot be the ground
of salvation but that it has no bearing on the es-
sential character of the church. The true Israel,
he argues, has always been independent of the

128 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Law. Centuries before Moses God had made his
covenant with Abraham on the basis of faith
alone, and ever since he had reckoned as his peo-
ple those who participated in the faith of Abra-
ham. There was no need, therefore, that the
Christian church should cling to the Law in the
fear that otherwise it might miss the inheritance
that had descended through the elect people. By
adopting faith as its one principle it maintained
its continuity with that true Israel which had ever
existed within the nation. In this way Paul vin-
dicates the claim of the church to be a purely
spiritual community. For him, as for the Apostles
before him, the Ecclesia takes up the vocation of
Israel and thus becomes heir to those promises of
God which cannot be broken. But the conception
is now set free from all its national limitations.
Bound up though it is with the past history of
the Jewish people, the Ecclesia is the communion
of faith into which the faithful of all lands and
times have the right of entrance.

It may be concluded, therefore, that in spite of
its apparent dependence on Judaism the church
was conscious from the outset of a separate place
and calling. The fideHty to the Law, which might
seem to mark it as a mere Jewish sect, is to be ex-
plained from the fundamental conception of the
Ecclesia as it was understood by the primitive
disciples. They believed that as the new com-

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 129

munity, ordained by God to possess the kingdom,
they were the true Israel and must secure their
title by linking themselves with the Israel of the
past. For this reason they conformed to the na-
tional traditions, but their aim all the time was
to attach themselves not to the nation but to the
"remnant'^ — the Israel which was, indeed, the
people of God. It was not till the advent of Paul
that the confusion of ideas, natural to the early
days, was dissolved and the Ecclesia became aware
that it could realise its vocation as the spiritual
Israel apart from the observance of the Law. But
even in the initial period it took its stand on prin-
ciples which were radically incompatible with
Judaism and whose import could hardly be mis-
taken by reflecting minds. (1) It reverted from
the legal to the prophetic conception of religion.
Ever since John the Baptist a movement had been
in process which was essentially a revolt from the
Law, although in its earlier phases its true char-
acter was partially concealed. Jesus himself was
the grand representative of this prophetic re-
vival, and for those who based their lives on his
teaching the Law could have nothing but a formal
value. It was replaced by an inward law of
righteousness from which there was no appeal.
(2) It demanded a recognition of Jesus as Lord
and declared that this confession of Jesus was the
one thing necessary for salvation. Paul at a
later time gave a new and profounder meaning to

130 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

the idea of faith in Christ. He made it clear
that faith was sufficient in itself and could only be
neutralised by any attempt to combine it with
obedience to the Law. But the truth which Paul
established by theological argument must have
come home to men in a practical way from the
first. It was impossible for the church to serve
two masters. By the acceptance of Christ as Lord
the authority of the Law was inwardly broken,
and the formal emancipation from it was only
a matter of time. (3) It claimed to be the com-
munity of the Spirit. This, indeed, was the
chief characteristic of the church, that it was en-
dued already with that divine power which would
be manifested in the new age. As distinguished
from all other societies, which were subject to
rules and ordinances, it was controlled by the
direct action of the Spirit. For a community of
this kind there was no real place in Judaism. No
man can have felt the presence in him of the new
power without some sense of the contradiction
which was pointed out by Paul: ''If ye be led by
the Spirit, ye are not under the Law."

That the bond between Christianity and
Judaism was never much more than a formal one
is evident, if from nothing else, from the early
progress of the mission. It was formerly assumed
that Paul was the first to carry the gospel to the
gentiles, and that he ventured on this great ex-
periment in the strength of his conviction that

THE CHURCH AND JUDAISM 131

the Law had now ceased to be binding. If Chris-
tianity before Paul was a mere sect of Judaism,
we have little choice but to accept this theory of
its extension. Against all approach to the gen-
tiles the Law would have constituted an insuper-
able barrier and the wider movement could only
have been contemplated after Paul had won his
victory. But it is now admitted by practically
all students of the apostolic age that Paul en-
tered on the mission when it was already in full
progress. Right on from the death of Stephen,
if not earlier, the gospel had been offered alike
to Jews and gentiles, and Paul's chief fellow
worker was Barnabas, one of the trusted leaders
of the Jerusalem church. We have to think of a
mission that began not abruptly, in consequence
of a sudden break with primitive tradition, but
naturally and imperceptibly. Although them-
selves Jews and faithful in their observance of the
Law, the disciples were conscious that it had
little to do with the Christian message. They
took for granted that faith was the one condition
of salvation, and willingly received gentile be-
lievers on this ground alone. As yet they acted
spontaneously, in accordance with their instinctive
sense of the nature and purpose of the gospel.
When they came to reflect on all the issues in-
volved their judgment was perplexed, and the
later Jewish converts, who had not grasped the
essential idea of Christianity, were eager to make

132 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

the most of their misgivings. But the attitude
of the primitive church to Judaism was one of
freedom. It was recognised that Jesus Christ had
been the mediator of a new covenant independent
of the Law.

LECTURE VI

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY

The disciples were drawn to Jerusalem by the
hope of participating in the triumph of Jesus
when he would return as Messiah and inaugurate
the kingdom of God. Believing, as they did, that
the consummation was close at hand, they had no
programme for the future and made no effort to
build up an organised society. Their impulse
was simply to resume the fellowship in which
they had been united during Jesus' lifetime. As
his disciples, they had stood to one another in a
relation of brotherhood, and now, in the interval
of waiting, they aimed at preserving this relation.
Little by little, as the community increased in
numbers and entered on its larger mission, the
original aim was modified in various directions
but was never consciously abandoned. The
church of the later time was the direct outcome of
that attempt to perpetuate the brotherhood which
had been instituted by Jesus.

We have seen, however, that from the first a
deeper significance was involved in the brother-
hood of the disciples. Jesus himself had connected
it with his proclamation of the new age when all

133

134 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

distinctions of rank and class and family were to
disappear. The old order was presently to give
place to another in which the will of God would
be all in all and men would acknowledge their
kinship as the children of God. Jesus called his
disciples as heirs of this coming kingdom. His
purpose, in all his intercourse with them, was to
prepare them for the kingdom by moulding their
lives into harmony with its conditions. For this
reason he sought to inspire them with the feeling
of brotherhood. They were to think of themselves
as not merely comrades in the same cause but as
the first-fruits of a new and more perfect type of
society. In their relations to one another they
were to exemplify that higher law of love and
mutual service which would be fulfilled in the
kingdom of God.

From this point of view we must understand
the anxiety of the church during the whole of the
early period to maintain the feeling among its
members that they were all brethren. It is easy,
no doubt, to adduce many seeming analogies from
the practice of other religious and philosophical
sects of the time. Men who had grouped them-
selves together round the name of the same
teacher for the pursuit of a common ideal naturally
took upon them the title of brethren, although
its use in many cases was little more than conven-
tional. It is easy, too, to show how the circum-
stances of early Christianity were sufficient in

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 135

themselves to compel an intimate form of as-
sociation. The scattered Christian communities,
struggling for their very existence in the midst of
a hostile world, could only survive when the vir-
tue of (t)L\aBe\<t>La — love and helpfulness within
the community — was exalted to the highest place.
This need for a fraternal bond was never more
urgent than in the first critical years at Jeru-
salem. But when all allowance is made for the
various influences which may have strengthened
the idea of brotherhood, we have to seek for
its origin in that consciousness of their voca-
tion that had been impressed on the disciples by
Jesus himself. He had taught them that they
stood for the new order of things in which all in-
equalities, all division between man and man,
would disappear. Their relation to one another
even now was to anticipate in some measure that
which would obtain in the kingdom. It is true
that Jesus insisted on a love to men far wider
than is contemplated by the "new command-
ment" of the Fourth Gospel; and in the parable
of the good Samaritan and the precepts of the
Sermon on the Mount he protested, in so many
words, against the exclusive ideals which were
afterward adopted by the church. Yet the
<j)L\aBeX<l){a of the later time bad its roots in a
conception which underlay the whole teaching of
Jesus. He looked for a new society governed by a
new spirit of love and service, and as the nucleus

136 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

of this future community he formed a band of
disciples who were united together as brethren.

The idea of brotherhood, therefore, was in-
volved in the very nature of the church and gov-
erned the life of its members from the beginning.
It would not have been surprising if the disciples
of Jesus had been led to isolate themselves in a
semi-monastic union similar to that of the con-
temporary Jewish sect of the Essenes. Perhaps
at the outset there was a real danger that the
Christian movement might spend itself in the
formation of a sterile community of this kind — a
community of enthusiasts secluded from the out-
ward world and content with their own fellow-
ship. From any such danger the church was
saved by two circumstances. On the one hand,
instead of remaining in Galilee, where they might
have lived as a self-contained society, the dis-
ciples were impelled to settle at Jerusalem. In
the great city they could only realise their com-
munal life in an imperfect fashion, and had to
break into separate groups even for the pur-
poses of worship. Whether they would or not,
they were thrown into constant intercourse with
the people around them, and the cause which
might otherwise have been confined within a nar-
row circle was forced to become active and mis-
sionary in its character. On the other hand, they
were protected still more effectually by the exam-
ple they had inherited from Jesus. In contrast

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 137

with John the Baptist, he had come eating and
drinking and had purposely avoided all appear-
ance of carrying on an esoteric mission. He had
consistently rebuked the Pharisaic spirit of ex-
clusiveness. His teaching, with all its commen-
dation of brotherly love, had never failed to lay
the chief stress on the larger human sympathies
and duties. With this example of Jesus fresh in
their memories, the disciples could not shut them-
selves up to a life of secluded fellowship. As the
new community they were bound by special ties
to one another and stood apart from the world:
yet they entertained no thought of a formal
separation. It was by thus perfecting itself as a
brotherhood, while maintaining its place in the
larger organism, that the church grew at last into
a world-wide power.

The disciples, then, sought to perpetuate that
life of comradeship into which they had been
brought by Jesus, and according to the book of
Acts they had recourse to a peculiar institution in
order to give full effect to the idea that they were
brethren. Although they could not unite in a
regular monastic society and lived in their own
homes, scattered throughout the city, they yet
contributed their wealth to a common stock.
Each individual was supported and cared for by
the community as a whole. There is no portion
of Luke's narrative which has been more often

138 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

called in question than this account he has given
us of the communal life of the early church. It
is objected, for one thing, that we are here dealing
not with facts of history but with certain char-
acteristic ideas of Luke himself. Alike in the Gos-
pel and the Acts his mind turns constantly to the
problem of wealth and poverty. The Christian
message, as he conceives it, is pre-eminently one
of social justice — a message of good tidings to the
poor and judgment on their oppressors. In his
description of the early communism, it is argued,
he has merely set forth in an ideal picture what
he imagines to be the true condition of a Chris-
tian society. Again, the apparent inconsistencies
of the narrative have often been pointed out, and
are held to prove that Luke has misunderstood
the facts or purposely coloured them in order to
bear out his theories. In spite of his assertion
that no man called anything his own and that
all wealth was divided among the brethren as a
matter of course, he yet singles out for special
praise the conduct of Barnabas, who parted with
his possessions. Likewise in the story of Ananias
and Sapphira, it is implied that no member of the
church was under obligation to throw his belong-
ings into the common stock. Ananias is told
explicitly by Peter that his goods were his own
and that he was free to dispose of them as he
thought best. His offence consisted not in with-
holding them but in the falsehood whereby, in a

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 139

spirit of vainglory, he had professed to renounce
everything while only sacrificing a part. In view
of these contradictions in the narrative it has been
inferred that the so-called community of goods
was nothing more than a large liberality such as
naturally accompanied the religious enthusiasm.

But these exceptions w^hich have been taken to
the record in Acts cannot be regarded as conclu-
sive. (1) It is, indeed, true that Luke lays a
noticeable emphasis on the social aspects of the
Gospel, but we have no right to set this down to
some mere predilection of his own. As a matter
of fact, he has little to say about wealth and pov-
erty in the later chapters of Acts, although op-
portunities were certainly not wanting. The sub-
ject appears to interest him only in those parts of
his work where he is concerned with the teaching
of Jesus and the life of the primitive church.
From this it may be fairly concluded that he is
influenced not so much by some theory of his
own as by those traditions of the Palestinian
church on which he has drawn so largely. A be-
lief persisted in the Christian communities of
Palestine that Jesus had denounced the sins of
wealth and taught the equality of rich and poor,
and we have no valid reason to doubt that this
account of his teaching was well founded. In
later Christianity, by a process we can easily
understand, his gospel of equality was softened
into a demand for generous giving and due con-

140 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

sideration of the poor. But among the native
Palestinian churches the true drift of the teaching
was not thus obscured, and Luke has preserved
the colouring of this tradition.

(2) It is possible to make too much of the ap-
parent inconsistencies in Luke's account of the
primitive communism. From his singling out of
special instances in which men parted with their
possessions, we may, indeed, infer that there was
no formal and binding rule. The sacrifice of pri-
vate wealth for the sake of the brethren was a
voluntary one, and a certain credit attached to
those who made it. This was in keeping with the
whole character of the early church, which was
not an organisation imposing a regular discipline
on its members but a free community of the Spirit.
But, although the surrender was voluntary and a
few devoted men are specially commemorated, it
does not follow that their conduct was exceptional.
For the most part the disciples were poor and
their contributions to the common fund attracted
little attention, since they probably received as
much as they gave. It was different when men
of some substance threw in their lot with the
church and, like Barnabas, gave up their posses-
sions. Their action was remembered not because
it was an exception to the rule but because it
stood out as a signal instance of its observance.
The story of Ananias is in this connection par-
ticularly instructive. Ananias was evidently a

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 141

man of wealth as compared with the brethren gen-
erally, and the question was whether he, like the
others, would make a complete surrender. If he
gave at all he must give everything, otherwise he
would betray the principle on which the life of
the church had been founded. This, it must be
observed, is the point which gives significance to
the whole story. What was required of Ananias
was not merely his liberality— for this he was
prepared to give — but his sacrifice of all individ-
ual possessions. In other words, the practice
of charity was a quite secondary consideration.
The aim of the church was nothing less than to
establish a new social principle — that of commu-
nity of goods — and in reserving part of his wealth
Ananias had committed a worse offence than if he
had withheld it altogether. He had tried by an
unworthy compromise to destroy an essential ele-
ment in the new order.

How far the incident is historical we cannot
now discover, and for our present purpose the
question is of minor importance. In any case we
have here transmitted to us one of the primitive
legends of the church, reminiscent of the early
conditions and perhaps of a conflict to which they
gave rise. The original aim — thus we may read
between the lines of the story— was to insure a
real community of goods. Members of the church
were expected not merely to exercise a mutual
helpfulness but to place their wealth wholly at

142 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

the disposal of the brotherhood. In course of
time, however, as numbers increased and the
first ardour began to wane, this ideal became ever
harder to realise. Converts of some worldly
standing were inclined to reason that they suflS-
ciently discharged their duty if they gave liber-
ally to the common fund and that they need not
sacrifice all. This attempt to substitute mere
beneficence for community of goods did not suc-
ceed without a struggle. It was argued by the
stricter party that to withhold a portion was a
worse sin than to give nothing, and the story of
Ananias and Sapphira may have grown up in sup-
port of this view. Whatever may be its founda-
tion in fact, it bears clear traces, in its present
form, of some such polemical intention. The real
sin of Ananias may possibly have consisted in
this — that he was the first to rebel against an
ideal which in the nature of things was imprac-
ticable. His view of the social obligations of a
Christian was destined before long to supersede
that of Peter, but we need not wonder at the op-
position which it encountered. The change from
community of goods to mere liberality in giving
involved a radical departure from the original
conception of the church.

There is no reason, then, to question the trust-
worthiness of this part of the narrative of Acts,
Luke may have heightened the picture of the
communism of the primitive church, but the facts

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 143

may well have come to him from an authentic
tradition. On purely critical grounds, there is no
section of his history which has better claims to
acceptance than that which deals with the com-
munity of goods. The institution is described in
two separate passages (Acts 2 : 44-46; 4 : 34/.),
which bear all the marks of being fragments of two
different sources. It was attested, therefore, by
both the documents on which Luke appears to
have chiefly drawn for his knowledge of the ear-
liest days.

What was the meaning of this communism?
No doubt the practice of it was rendered more
feasible by the expectation of an almost immedi-
ate coming of the kingdom. Within an interval
that might be measured by days or weeks the
present order of things would come to an end,
and earthly possessions would cease to have any
value. No better use could be made of them for
the short time that remained than to share them
with the brethren, so that all might wait for the
return of the Lord without worldly distraction.
But we cannot account in this manner for the re-
quirement— belonging, as we have seen, to the es-
sence of the institution— that those who gave up
their wealth must withhold nothing. It seems
necessary to seek for the true explanation along
two lines: First, it was demanded of all who
identified themselves with the kingdom that they
should make a solemn renunciation of everything

144 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

that belonged to the old life. Jesus himself had
called for this complete surrender, and his rule
was still insisted on. It was felt that, apart from
any benefit which the wealth might bring to
others, the sacrifice of it had in itself a religious
value, and an attempt to compromise, as Peter
impressed on Ananias, was a sin against the-iHoly
Spirit. But again, this renunciation, necessary
for those who professed the new faith, was brought
into service to the idea of brotherhood. The
church was representative of the new order, in
which all would be equal and would be animated
by a single spirit of love and devotion. In that
society of the future there could be no such thing
as individual possession, and the aim of the church
was to realise in its life now the law of the king-
dom. Thus the community of goods was no ac-
cident of primitive custom, due to the fact that
the disciples were still a little group of comrades
who lived together. It was the immediate out-
come of the church's consciousness of its voca-
tion. The heirs of the kingdom had broken with
the ordinances of this world, in which each man
held by his own, and had conformed themselves
to the law of the new age, when all would be
brethren.

In the earliest form of government and admin-
istration we may discern a similar effort to realise
in practice the inward idea of the church. The

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 145

facts, however, as given by Luke are meagre at
the best and cannot be accepted without careful
sifting. He wrote at a time when the church had
attained to a certain measure of organisation, in
the light of which he reconstructs the primitive
conditions. The little company of believers, held
together by a common enthusiasm, becomes for
him a regular society with stated officers and or-
dinances like the Pauline communities of his own
day. He writes, moreover, under the influence of
his theory as to the development of the Christian
mission. The twelve Apostles are regarded as a
sort of sacred college to which the task of the
propagation of the gospel has been formally in-
trusted. All initiative in the life of the church
is vested in the twelve; and if they adopt col-
leagues to assist them in practical affairs it is
only that they may keep themselves more free
for their higher missionary duties. At the head
of the twelve stands Peter. He acts as president
in all deliberations, and exercises a general au-
thority in the concerns of the church.

But while he thus adapts the facts to a given
theory, Luke is sufficiently faithful to his sources
to afford us at least some glimpses into the true
nature of the primitive organisation. It is evi-
dent, on his own showing, that the church recog-
nised no official leadership. On the contrary,
pains were taken to insure that all the members
should rank as equal and be admitted to their

146 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

share in the direction of the common life. No
matter of importance was decided without a
meeting of the whole community. These as-
semblies must have been increasingly difficult to
convene as the number of the converts grew, but
no decision was valid until it had thus received
the general consent. In view of this power exer-
cised by the assembly, the primitive church has
sometimes been described as a pure democracy,
and the description is a just one in so far as we
must reckon, here as elsewhere, with the idea of
brotherhood. But the authority to which the
church submitted was not in the last resort that
of the assembly, or of some leader or body of
leaders, but that of the living Spirit. Sometimes
the will of the Spirit was ascertained by the cast-
ing of lots in the presence of the assembly. More
usually it revealed itself in the process of earnest
deliberation, after prayer had been offered for the
guidance of the higher power. Certain individual
men were acknowledged to be ''full of the Spirit,"
and to the counsels of such men a predominant
weight was given. But obedience was rendered
not to the men but to the Spirit that uttered itself
through them; and the Spirit, while it made use
of special instruments, was the possession of the
whole community. Before any deliverance could
be accepted as from the Spirit, it had to commend
itself to the mind and conscience of all.

What, then, was the position occupied by the

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 147

twelve in this self-governing community? It is
evident that they were invested with no formal
authority, as Luke would appear to suggest.
That a special consideration should attach to
them was only natural, for they were not only the
chosen companions of Jesus but the representa-
tives of the church in its character of the new
Israel.' The first action of the community, on its
reassembling at Jerusalem, was to fill the vacant
place of Judas so that the significant number of
twelve might be again complete. But while they
thus enjoyed a certain precedence, it rested wholly
on sentiment and carried with it no prerogative.
Concerning all of them, except two or three, the
record is entirely silent, from which we may gather
that they remained in the background, exercising
little or no influence in the counsels of the church.
The prestige belonging to the original twelve did
not entitle to a place of leadership unless it was
conjoined with special gifts of personality.

The belief that the Twelve formed an inner
group which directed the life of the community is
no doubt due in part to the later confusion be-
tween the personal disciples of Jesus and the
Apostles. At what time the word "Apostle"
came into use we cannot tell. Paul employs it in
connection with one of the appearances of the
risen Christ, but most probably he avails himself
by anticipation of the convenient term in order
to include James and other notable disciples with

148 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

the twelve. From the literal meaning of the word
we should naturally infer that it was first adopted
when the mission had commenced and denoted
those who were set apart for missionary work.
For such work the highest kind of spiritual en-
dowment was necessary, and the men chosen
would be those who stood first in the estimation
of the church. But whatever may have been the
origin of the name it was evidently not restricted
to the twelve. They may have ranked as Apos-
tles by a sort of prescriptive right, but others took
their place beside them or above them. From
incidental notices in PauFs writings alone* it is
possible to draw up a considerable list of "apos-
tles** who were not numbered with the twelve.
So far as there was a group of leaders in the church,
it consisted of these apostles, but their authority
was not formal or oflficial. They were simply the
men who were marked out by an exceptional gift
of the Spirit for work of peculiar importance. In
accepting their leadership the church in no way
sacrificed its independence, for it was conscious
all the time of obeying the Spirit, of which they
were the instruments.

During the first years at Jerusalem a unique
position was occupied by Peter. A subsequent
age could only explain his pre-eminence on the
ground that Jesus himself had commissioned him

* Cf. Gal. 1 : 19; I Cor. 9:6; II Cor. 8 : 23; Romans
16 : 7; I Cor. 12 : 28.

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 149

to take the place of overseer in his church.* Of
such a commission, however, the earlier history
knows nothing. It represents Peter as at first
the leader among the Apostles, and then as gradu-
ally declining in influence until he entirely dis-
appears behind James, on the one hand, and Paul,
on the other. Indeed, the case of Peter illus-
trates for us in the most striking fashion the true
nature of the primitive control. Peter held au-
thority not by formal appointment or as president
of the twelve but in virtue of his personal gift,
and he retained it only so long as that gift was
indispensable. Without any outstanding qual-
ities of will or intellect he possessed in the fullest
measure that enthusiastic faith which is the one
thing needful at the beginning of a great move-
ment. As the most ardent of the disciples, Peter
assumed the leadership, but it was never allowed
to harden into a settled authority. As the con-
ditions changed, men of other gifts came forward
and directed the life of the church. Its loyalty
was pledged to no individual leader, but only to
the Spirit which was ever revealing its will by a
new voice.

Thus, in the government of the church, as in the
community of goods, an endeavour was made to
give practical effect to the idea of brotherhood.
Jesus himself had established no order of prece-
dence in his band of disciples, but had declared
* Matt. 16 : 18, 19.

150 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

that the whole system of ranks and dignities be-
longed to the former age and must now pass away.
On this principle the new society based itself.
It claimed to be a brotherhood in which the law
of equality that would hold good in the kingdom
of God was already realised and which was gov-
erned solely by the Spirit. Inevitably there were
leaders, but they held no stated office. They were
agents of the Spirit, which was supposed to reside
in the whole church, although it might utter its
will by chosen members. At best, the leaders
could only offer counsel and suggestion. Before
their word was valid it had to commend itself to
all the brethren, met in assembly, as the authentic
utterance of the Spirit. In the first ardent days,
when "the multitude of those who believed were
of one heart and one mind," this ideal of a brother-
hood was capable of at least a partial fulfilment.
The lack of a regular organisation was more than
made up by the spontaneous zeal with which all
devoted themselves to the common cause. But
in the nature of things the early conditions could
not last. We learn in the book of Acts how, as
the society became larger and more heterogeneous,
there arose disputes and jealousies which could not
be dealt with except by some kind of an official
system. Indeed, the very effort to maintain a
communal principle could only result in the defeat
of its own object. It became more and more
evident that if equal privileges were to be shared

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 151

by all they must be safeguarded by a fixed order
of administration.

Thus far the attempt to anticipate the condi-
tions of the kingdom was an impracticable one
and had to be abandoned after a brief experiment.
But there was another and more fruitful result of
that endeavour to mould the church in accordance
with its inward idea. As the heirs of the future
kingdom the disciples were committed to a new
rule of life. By their mode of thought and action,
and their intercourse with one another and the
world around them, they were required to exem-
plify that higher law which would obtain in the
new age.

We do an injustice to early Christianity and
fail to account for its marvellous achievement
when we conceive of it merely as an enthusiasm,
inspired by the hope of a great consummation in
the near future. Its true character is better de-
scribed by the expressive name, commonly ap-
plied to it in the first age, of "the way''— the new
method of life. Jesus himself had come forward
in his lifetime with an ethical message. To the
very end the mass of the people knew nothing of
his Messianic claim, but reverenced him as a
"prophet" who taught a better righteousness
than that of the scribes and Pharisees. The task
devolved on his disciples not only of asserting
his Messiahship but of continuing his work as a

152 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

prophet. Nothing is more remarkable in the
Epistles of Paul than the large space which is
devoted to purely ethical precepts. His letters
in this respect, as he himself indicates, reflected
his oral teaching, and the practice of Paul was
modelled on that of the missionaries generally.
They treated the moral interest as a fundamental
one, and amidst all theological differences they
continued to enforce the same broad principles of
morality. It was this ethical consistency more
than anything else that preserved the unity of
the church through all the changes and contro-
versies of the first century.

The teaching of Jesus had been chiefly concerned
with the moral life; yet we mistake its character
when we think of him in some vague sense as an
ethical teacher. The new righteousness which he
taught had a direct relation to his central message
of the kingdom of God. In view of the approach-
ing advent of the kingdom he sought to effect in
men a "change of mind," of such a nature that
they should be inwardly assimilated to the new
order. The commandments given "to them of
old time" were intended only for the present age,
and in place of them he revealed the higher rule
of obedience that would hold good in the great
future. It is from this point of view alone that
we can rightly understand the morality of Jesus.
Many of his precepts, no doubt, have reference
to conditions that would pass away with the

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 153

present age, and it is not diiOficult, by a literal in-
terpretation, to dissolve them into a mere "in-
terim ethic." But we have to regard them as so
many applications to existing conditions of cer-
tain new principles of absolute moral validity.
By the following out of these principles men
could anticipate the law of the kingdom and do
God's will on earth as it is done in heaven.

When we apprehend this connection between
the ethical teaching of Jesus and his message of
the kingdom we can discern the motive which
quickened the early Christian morality. Since
the church was the community of the new age,
its members were required to exhibit in themselves
a new type of character answering to their voca-
tion. They had part in the kingdom only in so
far as their lives were ordered in strict accordance
with that higher law which would prevail in it.
And for their knowledge of this law they were
dependent on the precepts that had been laid
down by Jesus. We are sometimes asked to be-
lieve that in the fervour of the apocalyptic hope
the actual teaching of Jesus fell into the back-
ground and has only been preserved to us by a
fortunate accident. But the truth is that the
hope invested the teaching with an urgent sig-
nificance. Jesus, who was now the exalted Lord,
had himself marked out the way for his people.
If they would participate in the kingdom, which
was already on the point of dawning, they must

154 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

know and accept its ordinances as he had taught
them.

In the early chapters of Acts nothing is told
us in detail of the endeavour to carry into prac-
tice the moral ideals of Jesus. The task which
the writer sets himself is to record the more
memorable incidents, and he takes for granted,
as historians are wont to do, the quiet Christian
activity which was all the time the chief business
of the church. We are reminded, however, in one
striking and comprehensive verse that along with
all the outward progress there was a building up
of the church from within. *'They continued to
adhere stedfastly to the teaching of the Apostles
and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and
the prayers" (Acts 2 : 42). Four elements of the
church's life are here singled out as characteristic:
obedience to a teaching imparted by the Apostles,
association in a brotherhood, participation in a
common meal, and meetings for worship. What
is implied in that "persistence in the Apostles'
teaching" which is here given the foremost
place?

Several modern writers, of whom A. Seeberg*
is the chief representative, have taken the brief
statement in Acts as the corner-stone of an elabo-
rate theory. Reasoning from the well-known fact
that toward the end of the first century the can-

* "Der Katechismus des Urchristentums " — the first of a
series of books in support of the same thesis.

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 155

didates for baptism were regularly instructed in
the main outlines of Christian belief and morality,
they have concluded that this custom was in force
from the earliest days. The Apostles drew up a
formula or catechism — the precursor of the later
"Didache" — which became the norm of all Chris-
tian teaching and has left its traces everywhere
in the New Testament. If this theory could be
established all previous conceptions of the early
development would have to undergo a radical
revision, but the arguments against it seem to be
decisive. It is hardly conceivable that in the first
days of eager spontaneous faith the new beliefs
were set down in a stereotyped form. All our
evidence points rather to a condition of things in
which the beliefs themselves were indeterminate
and the mere expression of them could be varied
at will. The Lord's Prayer, the Beatitudes, the
formulae connected with the supper, these were
the elements of Christian tradition which would
most naturally have become fixed, and yet they
have been transmitted to us in widely different
versions. Until the conflict with heresy which
began near the close of the century, the church
refused to bind itself to any defined standards.
It was this that opened the door to controversy
and division. It was this, too, that made possible
the freedom and sincerity and the many-sided
development which give a unique character to
the thinking of the first age. But the notice in

156 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Acts is in itself sufficiently suggestive without
burdening it with fanciful interpretations. It in-
forms us that from the very outset an important
place was assigned to the work of teaching; that
is, to some kind of regular instruction as distin-
guished from prophetic appeal. We gather from
it, moreover, that this teaching imparted by the
Apostles was mainly concerned with the direction
of conduct. The members of the church "ad-
hered stedfastly" to the instruction given them,
making it their aim to follow it out faithfully in
their daily lives.

There is good reason to believe — indeed, this
conclusion is almost forced upon us — that the
instructions of the Apostles were based on the
precepts laid down by Jesus. As the Jewish
teachers communicated a tradition which they
had themselves acquired from a master, so the
disciples of Jesus transmitted his words as they
had heard them. The reference in Acts, as we
have seen, implies a rule of practice rather than
of belief, and the ordinary work of moral instruc-
tion was already undertaken by the synagogue.
The only teaching which the Apostles were quali-
fied to impart was that of the new righteousness
as it had been revealed by Jesus. Here, as most
scholars would now admit, we are to look for the
ultimate basis of our existing Gospels. No re-
sult of New Testament criticism is more certain
than that Luke and Matthew had access to a

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 157

collection of the sayings of Jesus, which they
interwove with the narrative of Mark. The view
is now widely accepted that this collection was
older than the narrative, but at whatever date it
was compiled it had manifestly passed through
a number of expansions and revisions before it
reached the hands of the evangelists. We may
conclude that a process had begun, even in the
earliest days, of collecting the Lord's sayings and
grouping them in such a manner that they might
be easily remembered and transmitted. That all
converts were instructed, as a matter of course, in
these maxims of Jesus may be inferred from the
Epistles of Paul as well as from the Gospels.
Apart from the direct echoes of Gospel sayings,
which can be traced in Paul — and these are far
more numerous than many critics have been will-
ing to grant — we have to consider the whole drift
and content of his ethical teaching. He is able
to assume that the principles of Christian moral-
ity are already known to his readers. In the light
of this knowledge which they have received he
discusses their difficulties and calls on them to
recognise new duties and obligations. It is evi-
dent that Paul, in his missionary work, was con-
cerned not merely with the proclamation of certain
beUefs but with the moulding of that type of
character which was required in Christian men.
In this part of his work, which he probably re-
garded as the most valuable, he followed the path

158 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

marked out by Jesus. For him, as for all the
missionaries, Christianity was inseparable from
that rule of life which was handed down in the
teaching of the first Apostles.

The statement in the book of Acts, therefore,
is confirmed and illustrated by the evidence which
is afforded us elsewhere in the New Testament.
The Apostles were the missionaries of the king-
dom, and sought to awaken that faith in the risen
Christ through which alone it could be entered.
But along with this primary duty they were re-
sponsible for another hardly less important. They
continued the work of Jesus as a moral teacher,
imparting to their converts a knowledge of his
precepts and shaping the life of the community
in accordance with them. To the mind of the
primitive church these two duties were bound up
together. By the act of faith the convert identi-
fied himself with the new order and came hence-
forth within the sphere of its jurisdiction. But he
required to learn the nature of his new obligations.
He could have no true part in the future kingdom
unless he possessed in himself the will and dis-
position that were characteristic of God's people.
Thus it was necessary that the preaching of the
Christian message should be accompanied by a
training in the Christian life, and this could only
be based on the commandments of Jesus. His
words were treasured and handed down as reveal-
ing the nature of that new righteousness which

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 159

belonged to the kingdom. It is, indeed, probable,
as we may gather from Paul's references to the
tradition, that the teaching of the Apostles was
not exclusively ethical. Sayings of Jesus were
transmitted which kept alive the hope of the
Parousia and seemed to throw light upon its
mysteries. Instruction was given in central facts
of the Gospel history, such as the institution of
the supper and the appearances of the risen Lord.
Stray utterances were preserved from which it
was possible to glean directions for worship and
administration and for the conduct of the mis-
sion, and these acquired an increasing value as
time went on. But the primary aim of the Apos-
tles was that of educating their converts in the
principles of Christian morality. By enforcing
the precepts of Jesus they endeavoured, as he
himself had done, to build up a community that
should be inwardly conformed to the life of the
kingdom.

Toward the end of the century the idea took
root in the church, and developed in many unfore-
seen directions, that Christianity was nothing else
than a "new law." Jesus was regarded as a
greater Moses, who legislated for the new Israel,
and his teaching was formulated as a series of
binding enactments. The beginnings of this idea
may possibly be traced in Matthew's Gospel,
where the cardinal principles of the Christian
ethic are gathered up in a single code, delivered

160 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

from a mountain, like the Mosaic Law. To the
primitive age such a conception of the Lord's
teaching was entirely foreign, and it may be set
down to the relapse into a Judaistic habit of
mind, after the church had become organised as
an institution. It was not a new law that Jesus
had inaugurated, but a new way. Morality had
been based hitherto on a number of command-
ments outwardly imposed, now it was identified
with an inward temper — a will brought into har-
mony with the will of God. And in this sense the
teaching of Jesus was authoritative for his dis-
ciples. By obedience to it they sought to realise
that type of character which would inherit the
kingdom, and of which Jesus himself had been
the supreme example. The precepts of Jesus
did not exhaust the requirements of the Christian
life. As we know from the New Testament writ-
ings, they were expanded and supplemented by
successive teachers and were applied in new lan-
guage to changed conditions. None the less they
remained normative for the later ethical develop-
ment. They supplied the constant factor, in
virtue of which our religion has maintained its
identity amidst all the changes of twenty cen-
turies. Before a generation had passed the the-
ology of the church had shaped for itself many
different channels; its institutions had been re-
modelled; its original forms of worship had given
place to others. But the Christian morality was

LIFE IN THE PRIMITIVE COMMUNITY 161

determined, once and for ever, by the teaching of
Jesus.

It was all-important for the future of Chris-
tianity that its message of salvation was con-
joined from the first with an ethical discipline.
If it had stood for nothing more than the apoca-
lyptic hope, the church might have lasted through
a brief period of feverish life and then have
broken to pieces as the fulfilment of its dreams
became ever more remote and shadowy. It had
come into being, however, not only as a society of
enthusiasts, waiting for a great crisis, but as an
ethical brotherhood intent on obeying the will of
God according to the way marked out by Jesus.
Amidst all that was visionary and extravagant in
its hopes, it thus secured its hold on realities.
The ardour which would otherwise have spent
itself in a vain enthusiasm was transformed into
the motive power for moral endeavour and vic-
tory. And through its fidelity to the ethical de-
mands of Jesus the church advanced to a truer
and larger comprehension of his message of the
kingdom. Under the apocalyptic forms which he
took over from the thought of his time, he had set
forth his ideal of a higher righteousness and a
life of perfect fellowship with God. By doing his
will his disciples learned to know of his doctrine.
They were disappointed in their earlier hopes
only to grow conscious of the true revelation
which had been given in Jesus Christ.

LECTURE VII

BAPTISM

From its earliest days the church possessed
the two ordinances of baptism and the Lord's
Supper, and if we could ascertain their original
import we should have the key to the whole
problem of primitive Christianity. But here,
perhaps more than anywhere else, we need to dis-
tinguish carefully between earlier and later con-
ceptions. On its doctrinal side a religion holds]
fast to its essential principles, although the forms
in which they express themselves are constantly
changed. But on its ritual side the process is
almost always reversed. The forms of primitive
rites are maintained with the most jealous te-
nacity, but they are invested with new meanings.
As symbolical actions they lend themselves to a
wide variety of interpretation and afford an en-
trance to ideas which are quite alien to the orig-
inal worship. This, as all scholars would now be
willing to admit, has been the history of the two
Christian sacraments. Even within the first
generation they began to acquire new values,
although to all appearance they remained the
162

BAPTISM 163

same. To the gentile mind religion was asso-
ciated with "mysteries," with ritual acts which
were supposed to effect certain inward changes;
and as Christianity passed into the gentile world
its rites assumed this character. Their meaning
henceforth was overlaid with mystical ideas by
which it was obscured or entirely cancelled.

The task of understanding these ordinances as
they were observed in the primitive church is
thus a peculiarly difficult one, for the after-de-
velopments which elsewhere help to elucidate
the initial beliefs are here a source of confusion.
Paul himself has little assistance to offer us in
the attempt to retrace the earlier tradition. With
his doctrine of the sacraments we enter precisely
that domain of his thought in which he is least
careful to preserve a continuity with the previous
teaching of the church. Sometimes he appears
to explain them after the analogy of pagan rites
in order to make certain aspects of truth more in-
telligible to his gentile readers. Sometimes he
avails himself of their imagery and suggestion for
the purpose of enforcing the characteristic ideas
of his own theology. In no case can we be alto-
gether sure that the view represented by Paul
has a real affinity with that of the older Apostles,

Baptism and the Lord's Supper, as the two
ritual observances in Christian worship, came at
an early time to be linked together and to be

164 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

construed in the light of common ideas. Paul, in
a well-known passage of I Corinthians,* seems to
assume a necessary connection between them, and
makes out by means of a fanciful exegesis that
they both had their counterparts in God's dealings
with his people in the wilderness. In the Johan-
nine writings they appear as complementary to
each other — typifying, in some mysterious fash-
ion, the two aspects of the revelation in Christ.f
It was inevitable that the two ordinances should
thus in course of time be conjoined, and that
Christian thought should seek to assign to each
of them its distinctive function and meaning.
But historically they were separate rites, which
found their way independently into the life of
the church and were regarded differently. To
understand their place in the primitive commu-
nity it is necessary to forget their subsequent
correlation and to consider each of them by itself.

It may be accepted as certain that the rite of
baptism was not instituted by Jesus. In view of
the importance that was attached to it at a later
time, some account of its origin would undoubt-
edly have been included in the Gospel history if
there had been anything in the work of Jesus
which might be so interpreted. As it is, the com-
mand to baptise only finds a place in a closing
verse of Matthew's Gospel, which bears all the

* I Cor. 10 : 1 #. t John 19 : 35; I John 5 : 6-8.

BAPTISM 165

marks of a later ecclesiastical addition. The
fourth evangelist, with all his predilection for
sacramental doctrine, expressly admits that Jesus
himself did not baptise, although he adds, in a
somewhat confused and inconsequent fashion,
that the rite was performed by his disciples.*
But, while Jesus thus refrained from any cere-
monial expression of his message, he had himself
undergone baptism at the hands of John. It is
more than probable that several of his disciples
had similarly been baptised by John before they
threw in their lot with the new teacher. The way
had thus been prepared in Jesus' own lifetime
for the adoption of the rite within the Christian
church.

It was so adopted, if we may trust our records,
at the very commencement. On the day of Pente-
cost, according to the story in Acts, three thou-
sand converts were admitted by baptism, and al-
though we may regard this particular incident as
legendary, we have no reason to doubt the implied
assertion that there had never been a time when
the church did not administer baptism to its
converts. The evidence of Acts is fully supported
by the allusions to primitive custom which are
scattered through Paul's Epistles. In two differ-
ent passages the Apostle indicates that he him-
self had been baptised as a matter of course after
his conversion.! He takes for granted that the

* John 4 : 1, 2. f I Cor. 12 : 13; Romans 6 : 3.

166 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

rite was in universal use among the Christian
communities, and his fullest references to it are
in the Epistle to the Romans, addressed to a
church which he had not personally visited and
which probably represented, more than any other,
the normal practices and traditions. Everywhere
in the New Testament baptism is accepted without
question as an ordinance that has always been
valid — an ordinance that belongs to "the first
principles of the doctrine of Christ.'**

How are we to explain this early adoption of
an observance for which there was no sanction in
the commandment of Jesus himself? The ques-
tion can be partly answered from what we know
of the religious customs of the time. In all the
contemporary religions the ritual element was of
primary importance, and rites of purification,
based on the natural symbolism of cleansing by
water, were more widely practised than any
others. Judaism itself was largely concerned with
lustrations of various kinds, and in at least one
Jewish sect, that of the Essenes, baptism played
a conspicuous part. The closest analogy in
Judaism to the Christian rite was the baptism of
proselytes; and this has been singled out by many
scholars as the immediate model adopted by the
church. As aliens were admitted into the com-
monwealth of Israel by means of a baptism, so a
like ceremony was employed in receiving converts
* Heb. 6 : 1.

BAPTISM 167

into the new Israel. One objection, however,
seems fatal to this derivation of the Christian
from the Jewish rite. The baptism of proselytes
was intended for gentiles, and from this point of
view its whole significance must be explained.
Their connection with false gods and forbidden
customs was supposed to have left on the prose-
lytes a stain of defilement which could only be
washed away by a solemn act of purification.
But in the days when baptism was first adopted
by the church it was administered solely to Jewish
converts. We cannot for a moment conceive that
Jews would have submitted to a rite which as-
similated them to the heathen, and it would have
been contrary to the central interest of the church
to have imposed on them such a rite. As the
Ecclesia in which the hopes of Israel had now
come to fulfilment it was not at liberty to treat
its Jewish converts as if they were proselytes
from an alien faith.

The adoption of the rite may be accounted for
most naturally by the example and influence of
John the Baptist. Before Jesus had yet appeared
John had proclaimed the coming of the kingdom,
and had offered a "baptism for the remission of
sins" in view of the imminent crisis. This bap-
tism of John was closely related to his message
and has doubtless to be explained in the light of
the apocalyptic tradition. It had been assumed
from the time of the prophets onward that the

168 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

kingdom was reserved for the righteous and that
a cleansing from sin was the necessary condition
of entering it. John offered his baptism to those
who sought to undergo this cleansing. It was
administered after a profession of repentance,
and to this extent was a purely symbolic rite be-
tokening an inward moral change. But it is
hardly possible to doubt that John attributed a
real validity to his baptism. It conveyed a
guarantee to the baptised that God had accepted
them and had forgiven their sins. They could
look forward with confidence to the coming judg-
ment, since they had been washed in that " foun-
tain for sin and for uncleanness " * which God had
promised to open for his people in the latter days.
Why Jesus began his ministry by submitting
to the baptism of John is a problem which has
baffled all conjecture from the time of the evan-
gelists until now. Perhaps the knowledge of his
own vocation had not yet awakened in him, and
he came to the baptism simply as one of the faith-
ful in Israel who sought to fit themselves, by this
cleansing rite, for participation in the kingdom.
Or perhaps his true motive was that suggested in
the record of Matthew: "Thus it becometh us to
fulfil all righteousness." In a solemn and em-
phatic manner he identified himself with the
hopes of his countrymen and acknowledged the
divine commission of John. But, although he
* Zech. 13 : 1.

BAPTISM 169

was himself baptised, it is clear that he regarded
the rite as of secondary importance and did not
require it of those who desired to join his fellow-
ship. Some of his disciples may have come over
to him from John, but the greater number were
of his own choosing and were accepted on the
ground of faith alone. This dispensing with a
rite which had now become so closely associated
with the hope of the kingdom can only be ex-
plained as deliberate. With a profound instinct
he avoided all confusion of his moral and spiritual
demands with mere ceremonial practice. But
while he discarded the rite he sanctioned the idea
embodied in it — that the kingdom was for the
righteous and could only be entered by way of
repentance and the forgiveness of sin. Some-
times he speaks as if a "change of mind" itself
carries with it the assurance of divine forgive-
ness. The prodigal has only to arise and turn to
his father, and can feel in that very act that he
will be pardoned and accepted. Elsewhere he
seems to regard forgiveness as a special gift which
he himself has the right to bestow in the name of
God. "Thy sins be forgiven thee" is his con-
stant formula when he wishes to impart the bless-
ing which he values most. Jesus insisted, like
John, that sin must be forgiven before a man
could enter the kingdom; but as John had con-
veyed this forgiveness by an impressive rite, so
Jesus communicated it by his word.

170 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Here, most probably, we are to look for the
ultimate reason for the adoption of baptism by
the church. Jesus had not enjoined it — indeed,
had purposely refrained from it — yet it connected
itself with a well-marked element in his own
teaching. He had declared that no man could
enter the kingdom unless he repented and became
like a little child, and had pronounced his word of
forgiveness over those whom he received. After
his death, when new converts sought admission
into the brotherhood, the disciples were anxious
to maintain the conditions which had been re-
quired by Jesus himself. But how was it now
possible to meet these conditions? Jesus had be-
stowed the gift of forgiveness in virtue of a special
authority, exercised by him as the divinely ap-
pointed Messiah. The disciples could claim no
such authority. They shrank from arrogating
to themselves a power which was recognised by
Jewish piety as belonging to God only. In their
perplexity they fell back on the rite instituted by
John. He had introduced it as a standing ordi-
nance, available henceforth for all who offered
themselves for the kingdom. After his own
death, as we know from several references in the
book of Acts, it was continued as a matter of
course within the sect that called itself by his
name. The disciples of Jesus, likewise, took over
the baptism of John as an ordinance given by
God for the remission of sins.

BAPTISM 171

To our minds the adoption of baptism is apt
to appear as a startling innovation in Christian
practice. Jesus had scarcely departed when his
gospel was allied with an external rite, analogous
to those which obtained in many forms of heathen
worship. From this alone it has been inferred
that alien influences must have been at work from
the first, profoundly modifying the character of
the new religion. But in view of the precedent of
John a theory of this kind is untenable. So far
from regarding baptism as an innovation, de-
liberately adopted, we can understand how it
established itself of its own accord as soon as the
necessity arose of receiving new converts into
the brotherhood. It needs to be remembered
that the Christian movement was related to that
of John in a far closer manner than we commonly
suppose. Jesus himself had recognised John to
be the Elijah who was to inaugurate the series of
events that would culminate in the fulfilment of
the kingdom by the Messiah; and our Gospels
assume throughout that the mission of John was
an integral part of the history that followed.*
John was not merely a forerunner, whose work
was absorbed in that of Jesus, but had his own
significance for the kingdom, and his words and
acts continued to be authoritative. Thus, it is
not difficult to explain how his peculiar rite passed
over, almost as a matter of course, into the Chris-
* Cf. also Acts 1 : 5; 10 : 37.

172 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

tian church. Although it had not been practised
by Jesus, it was yet one of the institutions of that
new movement of which Jesus had been the cen-
tral figure, and the reversion to it was easy and
natural. At the same time, a distinction seems
to have been preserved, in the primitive age, be-
tween the essential message of Jesus and this
concomitant rite which he had not directly sanc-
tioned. Paul undoubtedly placed a high estimate
on baptism and, by associating it with several of
his central doctrines, contributed not a little to-
ward the heightening of its significance in the
later church. Yet he declares in a remarkable
passage that he had purposely refrained from ad-
ministering the rite, "for Christ sent me not to
baptise, but to preach the gospel."* He recog-
nised, apparently, that baptism in itself was a
liturgical act, depending for its worth on the in-
ward spiritual change which it represented. His
work as an Apostle was to effect the inward
change, and to this work he confined himself, lest
he might create a dangerous confusion in the
minds of his converts. In the custom thus fol-
lowed by Paul we have indications of a feeling
which he probably shared with the other Apos-
tles. While they adopted baptism as an indis-
pensable rite, they were conscious that Jesus
himself had not required it. In spite of all the
sacredness with which it was gradually invested,
* I Cor. 1 : 17.

BAPTISM 173

the sense remained that it had come in from the
outside and was alien to the essential gospel.

If the Christian ordinance of baptism was de- •
rived from that of John we can hardly be wrong
in assigning to it the same fundamental import.
In its later as in its earlier phase it was "the
baptism of repentance for the remission of sins."
The kingdom of God was destined for the right-
eous, and before men could hope to participate in
it they needed to be cleansed from the defilement
of the old life. An opportunity was provided in I
baptism whereby they might thus break with the i
past and obtain the assurance of forgiveness.
That this was the original purpose of the rite is
clearly implied in various references to it in the
book of Acts. " Repent and be baptised everyone
of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remis-
sion of sins." * "Arise and be baptised, and wash
away thy sins, calling on the name of the Lord." f
At the time when Acts was written the mystical
ideas of baptism had become generally current,
and notices like these can only be explained as
reminiscences of an earlier and simpler concep-
tion. Traces of it may be discovered in those
very passages of Paul's writings which prepare
the way for a more advanced doctrine. Baptism, |
as Paul conceives it, is, in the first instance, a
"washing," a "rising into newness of life." J

* Acts 2 : 38; c/. 3 : 19. t Acts 22 : 16.

1 1 Cor. 6 : 11; Romans 6:4.

174 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

His further speculations as to its meaning are all
influenced and in some degree suggested by this,
its primary significance.

Christian baptism, however, was recognised to
be something more than the baptism of John.
Although outwardly the same and interpreted in
the same general fashion, the rite had become a
new one and had received a larger import now
that it had been adopted into the life of the church.
This is brought out emphatically in the curious
passage in Acts which tells how the disciples of
John whom Paul found at Ephesus were required
to undergo a second baptism. The rite as they
had previously known it was incomplete and had
to be repeated in another form before they could
be admitted into the Christian community. We
learn from the same passage how the new ordi-
nance was differentiated from the older one. It
was administered "in the name of the Lord
Jesus," and its higher validity was bound up, ap-
parently, with the use of this formula. At a
period subsequent to the apostolic age the three-
fold name was substituted in baptism for the
name of Jesus. The beginnings of this later
usage can be traced in certain passages of the
New Testament itself, and it is formally adopted
in the concluding verses of Matthew's Gospel.
But from the book of Acts and the Pauline Epis-
tles it is abundantly clear that the primitive
church knew only the simpler formula, and even

BAPTISM 175

so late as the "Didache" it is assumed that this
alone is necessary. What, then, was the meaning
of this administration of baptism " in the name of
Jesus''?

The importance of this question was not fully
appreciated till recent years, and no general agree-
ment has yet been reached as to the answer that
should be given to it. Hitherto the inquiry has
taken its direction, for the most part, from the
various analogies which have been discovered in
Hellenistic usage. The suggestions thrown out by
Deissmann and other philologists have given rise
to an entirely new theory of primitive baptism, of
which Heitmiiller, in his various works, has made
himself the chief exponent.* According to this
theory, the formula "in the name" or "into the
name" of Jesus (the two expressions seem to be
practically synonymous f) must be regarded as
pointing back to magical ideas inherited from the
beliefs of prehistoric times. A name stood for
the person who bore it, and he was supposed to
be himself, in some manner, present when his
name was pronounced. In the case of divine
beings, more especially, a mysterious virtue was

* Heitmiiller, "Im Namen Jesu"; "Taufe und Abendmahl
im Urchristentum."

t The most usual and probably the oldest formula is
^a-KxCC^eiv dq xb 6vo[xa. This gradually falls into disuse, and
gives place to ev tw 6v6[xaxc, or e%\ to) 6v6iAaTt. Too much
weight must not be given to the preposition. In all three
cases it seems to indicate httle more than a mention of the
name accompanying the act.

176 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

attributed to the name. He who invoked it or
carried it engraved on an amulet was brought
into a personal relation to the god and could rely
on his protection. This, then, it is argued, was
the primary meaning of the invocation of the
name of Jesus in the ceremony of baptism. The
person over whom the name was pronounced
entered into a fellowship with Jesus, who shielded
him henceforth from the assaults of evil powers.
In like manner, too, he passed over into the pos-
session of Jesus. The mention of the name de-
noted a solemn act of transference whereby he
surrendered himself wholly to the new Master.
In confirmation of this view of the baptismal for-
mula, appeal is made to many striking parallels
in contemporary language, as we have learned
to know it from recently discovered documents
of common life. Property conveyed by title-
deeds was made over ''into the name" of him
who had purchased it. The legionary was bound
to obedience by taking his oath "into the name"
of the emperor. Apart from such collateral
evidences, the view is supported to some extent
by the thought and language of the New Testa-
ment itself. It is uniformly assumed that by
baptism "in the name of Jesus" the believer has
made a surrender of his own will and henceforth
belongs to Jesus as his "bondsman" or posses-
sion. With this primitive conception of the mean-
ing of baptism the Pauline doctrine of the mys-

BAPTISM 177

tical union with Christ is closely connected. The
relation of ownership implied in the rite is con-
strued by Paul as one of personal communion in
which the believer identifies himself with Christ.

The theory has called attention to aspects of
primitive baptism which have been unduly neg-
lected or misunderstood, but there are several
considerations that seem to render it untenable.
(1) It rests on the assumption that the one im-
portant matter in baptism was the pronouncing
over the convert of the name of Jesus. The rite
itself is forgotten or becomes a mere accessory,
almost superfluous, to the invocation of the name.
Now, it may be granted that this invocation was
the peculiar mark of Christian baptism, but all
our evidence proves that the actual rite was the
essential thing. The mention of the name, how-
ever we may explain it, was intended to complete
the rite and define more closely its scope and
character. No theory can be satisfactory unless
it deals with the conception of baptism as a whole.
The solemn act and the accompanying words
were blended together, and the meaning of both
of them was vitally affected by this combination.

(2) It imputes to early Christianity a mode of
thinking which was alien to its true character.
Passages can, no doubt, be adduced from the New
Testament in which a magical value seems to be
attributed to the name of Jesus— as when it is
used in the Gospels for the purposes of exorcism

178 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

or by Peter in the book of Acts for the healing of
the lame man. Even in these cases it may be
questioned whether a magical effect is contem-
plated, but, however this may be, it is only fair
to recognise that healings and exorcisms were in a
class by themselves. According to the belief of
the time, diseases, especially those of a nervous
order, were due to demonic agency and had to be
combated by magical means. If the Christians
shared the popular belief and substituted the
name of Jesus for the divine or angelic names
that were commonly employed in exorcism, we
have no right to leap to the conclusion that magic
was of the essence of their religion. Against the
few ambiguous passages we must set the whole
evidence of the New Testament. Primitive Chris-
tianity was not a matter of incantations and ca-
balistic signs, but of faith in a new and living
power. In the rite of baptism this faith came to
expression, and any attempt to explain the bap-
tismal formula by purely magical ideas is inade-
quate on the face of it. The convert, dedicating
himself to Jesus in a moment of spiritual exalta-
tion, must have been thinking of something else
than the efficacy of a mysterious name.

(3) It binds down to one narrow and excep-
tional meaning a phrase that had a much wider
significance. By diligent search among the re-
covered papyri it may, indeed, be shown that " in
the name" was occasionally used as a formula de-

BAPTISM 179

noting a peculiar kind of magical transaction.
A few stray passages in the New Testament it-
self may be held to betray a similar usage. But
in numerous other instances, which have like-
wise to be taken into account, no trace of it can
be discovered. When Jesus describes the false
disciples who say "have we not prophesied in thy
name**; when Paul counsels his readers whatso-
ever they do "to do all in the name of the Lord
Jesus," it is evident that some larger import must
be attached to the phrase. We owe much to
modern scholars who have taught us to reinter-
pret New Testament terms in the light of the
current language of the first century, but one
cannot but feel that in some instances they have
set us on a false track. The religious vocabulary
of the early church was mainly borrowed from the
Old Testament, and scriptural turns of expres-
sion may often have been used, as we use them
ourselves, without much thought of their exact
meaning. It may have been so with this partic-
ular phrase. A hundred familiar verses in Psalms
and Prophets made reference to the name of God
and bade men trust and rejoice and hope "in
his name." We can understand how the phrase
may have been transferred to Jesus with little
more intention than that of enhancing his power
and dignity. It is significant that Paul, in sev-
eral passages, omits the qualifying phrase al-
together and speaks of being baptised "into

180 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

Christ." * As the Israelites were "baptised unto
Moses" t — were subjected to Moses as the peo-
ple of his Law — so the believers had come under
a certain relation to Christ. It is evident that
for Paul the simpler phrase contains in it what is
essential in the longer and more formal one. To
be baptised "in the name of Jesus" is to "put on
Christ," to submit oneself to him in unreserved
allegiance.

It may be suggested as not improbable that
the phrase has reference to the confession which
seems always to have formed an element in Chris-
tian baptism. As early as the beginning of the
second century this confession had assumed a
more extended form and was finally elaborated
into the so-called Apostles' Creed. But we can
gather from indications in the New Testament
that it was originally comprised in the two
words Ku/oio? ^Irja-oik, "Jesus is Lord." On three
separate occasionsj Paul repeats these words in
such a manner as to leave little doubt that he is
quoting a formula which his readers will at once
recognise as the standard expression of their faith.
Of these three passages the most instructive is
that in Romans. The Apostle there alludes to a
confession with the mouth which gives utterance
to the faith awakened by the word of preaching,
and which is summed up in the words "Jesus is

* Gal. 3 : 27; Romans 6:3. f I Cor. 10 : 2.

t Romans 10 : 9; I Cor. 12 : 3; Phil. 2 : 11.

BAPTISM 181

Lord." It may be regarded as practically cer-
tain, in view of the whole sequence of ideas, that
Paul is here thinking of a declaration of faith
that accompanied the saving act of baptism.
But if the confession "Jesus is Lord" was thus
inseparable from the ordinance we have a clew to
the meaning of the vexed phrase "baptised in
the name of Jesus." The "name" was not the
personal name, employed by way of incanta-
tion, but the sovereign title of Kvpiof;. Itiis this
which Paul has in his mind when he speaks of
Jesus as bearing "the name that is above every
name," and we may well suppose that in ordinary
Christian language Jesus' "name" had the ac-
cepted meaning of the supreme title which was
now his. Of such a usage we seem to discern not
a few indications in different books of the New
Testament.* Baptism "in the name of Jesus"
consisted, therefore, in the acknowledgment of
Jesus as the Lord. By so confessing him the
convert not only declared his faith in the Messiah-
ship of Jesus but brought himself under a per-
sonal allegiance to him. From this time onward
he ceased to be his own, he abjured all other
authority by which he had formerly been bound
and subjected himself to Jesus in the relation of
servant to Lord.

This explanation of the phrase " in the name of
Jesus" may be suggested as simpler and more in
* Cf. Eph. 1 : 21; Heb. 1 : 4; Rev. 19 : 16.

182 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

accordance with primitive Christian thought than
that which' would resolve it into a magical for-
mula. Whether it is correct or not, it serves to
bring out the significance which seems always to
be conveyed by the phrase. To be baptised in
the name of Jesus is to make open confession of
him and to surrender oneself to his keeping and
authority. It was this confession of Jesus which
formed the characteristic mark of Christian bap-
tism. The disciples took over the ordinance of
John, regarding it, like him, as the divinely ap-
pointed means for the remission of sins; but they
associated it with the faith in Jesus. In this
manner they transformed it into a new rite ex-
pressive of the new Christian ideas.

In two ways the import of the rite was changed
when the confession of Jesus was made an essen-
tial part of it. (1) The ideas involved in the con-
fession were inevitably blended with those con-
veyed by the original rite, so that it acquired a
richer and more definite meaning. Baptism was
still an act of cleansing for the remission of sins,
but this cleansing was now related to the faith in
Jesus. He had been the mediator of the divine
forgiveness, and it was vouchsafed to those who,
by confession of his "name," had become his
people. A peculiar feature in Paul's doctrine of
baptism is his correlation of the ordinance with
the death of Christ. It assumes for him the char-

BAPTISM 183

acter of a dramatic act whereby the believer re-
peats in his own person the Lord's death, with the
ensuing burial and resurrection. This interpre-
tation has been singled out by modern writers
as distinctively Pauline; indeed, they have here
discovered the outstanding difference between
Paul's conception of baptism and that which pre-
vailed in the earlier church. But it may reason-
ably be conjectured that Paul is merely elaborat-
ing, in his own fashion, ideas which had already
found root in the common belief. We know from
Paul's own testimony (I Cor. 15 : 3) that he had
received as part of the existing tradition "how
that Christ died for our sins according to the
scripture"; and it is not improbable that this for-
giveness through the death of Christ had con-
nected itself in men's minds with the forgiveness
obtained in baptism. The words of Paul appear
to indicate that such a connection had already
been surmised. "Know ye not," he asks, "that
as many of us as were baptised into Jesus Christ
were baptised into his death?" * Addressing
the Roman church, which he had not himself
evangelised, he appeals to this significance of
baptism as to something known; moreover, he
suggests that he had been conscious in his own
baptism of a participation in the death of Christ.
It has always to be remembered that Jesus him-
self, if we may trust our Gospel records — and on
* Romans 6:3.

184 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

this point there is no valid reason to doubt their
evidence — attached a paramount value to his
death. He conceived of it as "a ransom for
many" — a means ordained by God for the removal
of all hindrances that delayed the coming of the
kingdom. In this conviction, impressed by Jesus
on his disciples, we probably have the true key
to much that seems otherwise inexplicable in
the genesis of Christian thought. If this be
granted, it is not difficult to understand how the
idea of baptism may have linked itself, almost
from the outset, with that of the death of Christ.
For the Christian, who believed that Christ had
offered the ransom for many, baptism did not pro-
cure the forgiveness of sins by some efficacy of
its own. It availed only for those who by con-
fession of Jesus were '^ baptised into his death."

(2) The accompanying confession not only
modified the original meaning of the rite but
added to it a new significance. By means of it
the convert was received into the Christian
brotherhood and became a participant in its ob-
ligations and privileges. There is no evidence
that the baptism of John possessed a value of
this kind. John gathered around him his own
sect of followers, which continued after his death;
but the submission to his baptism did not in-
volve membership in the sect. We gather from
the Gospel narrative that the majority of those
whom John baptised were no further associated

BAPTISM 185

with him or with one another. They resumed
their life as ordinary Jews, except that they had
now undergone a special purification in view of
the approaching kingdom. But Christian bap-
tism implied the joining of a community. This,
indeed, was one of the essential elements in its
meaning — that the man who had once submitted
to it was incorporated henceforth in the Ecclesia.
In the light of the conclusions we have already
reached, it is not difficult to see how baptism ac-
quired this peculiar value. The work of Jesus, as
conceived by his disciples, had been that of form-
ing a community, a new Israel, in which the
promises of God would receive their fulfilment.
This idea of the redeemed community was pri-
mary in early Christian thought. The heirs of the
kingdom were not a multitude of separate in-
dividuals who had declared their faith in Christ,
but were bound together as a single organism
possessed of a common life. In order to partici-
pate in the life, it was necessary to be a member
of the body. In the new Israel, as in the old, the
individual was nothing apart from the whole
community, which was the object of God's choice.
We can understand, therefore, how a special
significance connected itself with baptism. It
was an act of preparation for the kingdom, and
was accompanied by a confession of Jesus, through
whom the kingdom was to come; but in this same
act the convert was assimilated to the church.

186 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

In virtue of the faith he had professed he was held
to have secured his place in that new community
to which the kingdom had been promised. Here,
probably, we are to discover the true reason why
the confession required at baptism took the par-
ticular form of Kv/oto9 'Irjaoik. The title "Lord,"
as we have seen already, was used within the
church to express that attitude in which his own
people stood to Jesus. As distinguished from the
abstract title of Messiah, it carried with it the
acknowledgment of his sovereign right, and could
only be assigned to him by that community in
which he reigned. To confess him as "Lord,"
therefore, implied that you took your place in his
community. You joined in the allegiance which
was rendered him by his people and claimed your
right in those blessings which he bestowed upon
them. We have no ground for supposing that
in the primitive age a mystical value was at-
tributed to baptism. It was the token of incor-
poration into the church because it stood for re-
pentance and for the open confession of a living
faith in Jesus. We are not even to think of it
as a Christian counterpart to the seal of circum-
cision, although at least one reference in Paul
would seem to indicate that thought soon began
to tend in this direction.* But the primitive
custom of admitting to the church by baptism
easily lent itself to a further development. The
*Col. 2: 11/.

BAPTISM 187

rite whereby a man entered the new community
was construed, under the influence of heathen
ideas, as a rite of initiation into the mysteries of a
new life.

In the later New Testament period baptism is \
connected above all with the work of the Spirit.
It is assumed that in the moment of baptism the
higher power takes possession of a man's nature,
effecting in him a change so radical that it may
be described as a new birth. To the fourth evan-
gelist "water and the Spirit" are two elements
that work together— the Spirit communicating it-
self, in a manner that cannot be traced or defined,
through the material act of baptism. Not a few
modern writers have attributed a similar doctrine
to Paul and have even given it a cardinal place
in his theology. The evidence they adduce is far
from convincing, but it may at least be admitted
that in more than one striking passage Paul
brings the work of the Spirit into close relation to
baptism.* How far did it belong to the primitive
conception of the rite that, by means of it or
simultaneously with it, the gift of the Spirit was
imparted?

The question is difficult to answer; for when our

records were composed the connection of the

Spirit with baptism had become a settled belief

in the church. Luke assumes that the difference

* I Cor. 6: 11; 12: 13.

188 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

between the earlier and the later baptism con-
sists in this: that John baptised with water only,
while the Christian baptism was accompanied
with the Spirit.* To Peter's summons at Pente-
cost, " Repent and be baptised every one of you,"
he adds, as a matter of course, "and ye shall re-
ceive the Holy Spirit." f Luke's own position is
so clear that the more significance must be at-
tached to certain passages in which baptism and
the gift of the Spirit appear as two separate ex-
periences. In the story of Cornelius we are told
how the Spirit descended on the believing gen-
tiles, and Peter accepts this as a sign from God
that baptism may now be administered.! Else-
where the Spirit is bestowed after baptism, either
as a direct gift from heaven or by the symbolic
action of the laying on of hands. § Even in pas-
sages where he assumes the coincidence of baptism
with the gift of the Spirit, Luke cannot wholly
conceal the traces of a prior tradition. The dis-
ciples of John at Ephesus are baptised by Paul
for the express reason that they may receive the
heavenly gift of which they have hitherto been
completely ignorant. But they only receive it
after the rite has been performed, when Paul has
laid his hands upon them.ll Their baptism, ap-
parently, had conferred on them not the gift it-

* Acts 1 : 5; 11 : 15-18; 19 : 1-7. f Acts. 2 : 38\

J Acts 10: 44 #. § Acts 8 : 16, 17.

II Acts 19 : 1-7.

BAPTISM 189

self but some new capability whereby they could
respond to it.

It would appear, therefore, that in the earlier
belief, of which we have reminiscences in the book
of Acts, there was no intrinsic connection between ,
baptism and the imparting of the Spirit. Even \
if no such direct evidence had been preserved to
us, we might have inferred that the two experi-
ences were originally separate. Baptism, in spite
of the important place which it always occupied,
was by its nature a ritual act, formal and deliber-
ate. The gift of the Spirit was something that
came spontaneously, and no mode or time could
be prescribed for its manifestation. In the first
age, when the mood of enthusiasm was still fresh
and real, the distinction between the formal rite
and the sudden inrush of the Spirit must have
been so evident that no one could think of identi-
fying them. The doctrine that they took place
together is obviously the product of a later time,
when the Spirit had partly lost its former char-
acter and was conceived of as a silent power
operating constantly in the Christian life.

But, although the later view of the significance
of baptism must be regarded as foreign to primi-
tive Christian thought, we can see how it devel-
oped itself out of conditions that were present
from the first. Something must be allowed, on
the one hand, to psychological causes. Baptism
was a ritual act and had no necessary connection

190 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

with the manifestations of the Spirit. Yet it
marked for the convert the most sacred moment
of his life, when he definitely broke with the past
and surrendered himself to Jesus as his Lord.
On this occasion of all others he would be over-
powered by religious emotion. In many cases it
would find utterance in those strange outcries
which were supposed to witness to the Spirit.
Even if phenomena of this kind were absent, the
moment would be remembered as one of vision
and exaltation. A Christian who reflected on his
experience and tried to determine when he had
first been conscious of the Spirit might naturally
conclude that it had come upon him in his bap-
tism. This belief would suggest itself the more
readily if the story of the baptism of Jesus, as
recorded in our Gospels, formed part of the primi-
tive tradition. If the details of the story were
added later, we may explain them from a reading
back into the life of Jesus of an experience which
was familiar to his disciples. The moment of
baptism was one of consecration when they could
feel as if the heavens had opened and the Spirit
were descending on them. But, apart from these
psychological reasons, we can account for the new
significance which gradually attached itself to
baptism and displaced the earlier conceptions.
By the confession of Jesus in baptism the convert
passed over into the church. He was a member
henceforth of that new community on which the

BAPTISM 191

Spirit had been bestowed, and as such he partici-
pated in the common life. His baptism in itself
might be a formal rite, unaccompanied by any
working of the higher power; but, in so far as he
was now incorporated within the church, he was
endowed with the Spirit. At any time it might
openly declare its presence; but even if these mani-
festations were lacking he could feel that he pos-
sessed it, since he was one with the spiritual com-
munity. Thus the later doctrine of baptism, alien
as it was to the original meaning of the ordinance,
may be said to have brought to a focus those
primitive ideas which have met us constantly in
the course of our inquiry. The church, as the
community of the kingdom, was endued with the
Spirit, which was to be poured out in the new age.
This power was bestowed not on the individuals
in whom it might specially reveal itself but on
the church as an organic whole; all members of
the body had their share in the life of the body.
It followed that the gift of the Spirit was im-
parted to each believer from the moment of his
entrance into the church. The baptism with
water was at the same time a baptism with the
Spirit. There was no thought of this identifica-
tion in the minds of the earlier Apostles, but it
was logically involved in their conception of the
church.

LECTURE VIII

The rite of baptism, although it expressed ideas
which could find their sanction in the teaching
of Jesus, was not directly instituted by him. It
marked a reversion from his own practice to that
of his predecessor; and, in spite of the cardinal
place which it soon occupied, it was recognised,
even by Paul, as something accessory to the
gospel. But in the Lord's Supper the church
claimed to possess an ordinance which Jesus him-
self had bequeathed to it at the supreme moment
of his life. From the beginning this ordinance
was the chief bond of union in the Christian
brotherhood and the central act of its worship.
What was the significance originally attached to
the Lord's Supper? This question, more, per-
haps, than any other, is crucial for our whole
inquiry into the character and beliefs of the early
church.

Here, however, to an even greater extent than

in the case of baptism, we have to reckon with a

confusion due to the intermingling of earlier and

later ideas. The Supper was in itself a richer

192

THE LORD'S SUPPER 193

and more suggestive rite than baptism, and the
circumstances of its origin had lent it a pecu-
liar consecration. As time went on it gathered
around it new meanings, derived from the deep-
ening thought and experience of the church, and
these interpretations cannot be separated with
any certainty from the original conceptions to
which, in many cases, they may have been nearly
allied. Moreover, the doctrine of the Supper
yielded itself in an almost unique fashion to
modification by alien influences. The sacred
meal was a well-marked feature in all the con-
temporary religions — so much so that Paul, in
the very effort to differentiate the Supper from
the kindred observances of heathenism, is led un-
consciously to think of them in similar terms (I
Cor. 10 : 21). There can be little doubt that in
the process of the gentile mission the conception
of the Supper was influenced in several directions
by mystical ideas native to the heathen cults,
and these ideas entered so deeply into its sub-
stance that we find it almost impossible to detach
them. At the same time there is a danger, to
which modern criticism has too readily succumbed,
of unduly narrowing the original import of the
Supper by an exclusive emphasis on the later in-
fluences. The possibility has always to be borne
in mind that their action, for the most part,
was subsidiary. Instead of creating a new sig-
nificance for the rite they may only have accen-

194 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

tuated and fostered the ideas which were vaguely-
connected with it from the first.

It is apparent, from the evidence of the New
Testament itself, that the doctrine of the Supper
underwent profound changes in the course of the
first century. The fourth evangelist conceives of
the ordinance in a different manner from Paul,
and the interpretation of Paul can hardly have
corresponded, in all points, with that of the
primitive community. Some ground is thus af-
forded for the radical doubt which has been raised
more than once in modern criticism. It has
been maintained that the whole tradition of the
founding of the ordinance by Jesus is open to
question, and may best be explained as a myth
that grew up around a given practice. Chris-
tianity, under the influence of contemporary re-
ligious custom, adopted the rite of the sacred
meal; and this was gradually invested, as in
other cults, with an explanatory legend. The
common meal was brought into relation with the
history of Jesus. Its observance was traced to
an injunction given by him that his saving death
should in this manner be commemorated by all
succeeding time. The theory breaks down, how-
ever, when we examine the actual character of
the supposed myth. If it had been freely invented
to account for a perplexing religious custom, it
would surely have embodied some attempt to

THE LORD'S SUPPER 195

throw light upon its meaning. As it is, the nar-
ratives of the Supper that have come down to us
are all fragmentary and obscure. So far from ex-
plaining the rite as it was practised in the church,
they cannot be reconciled with it except in a par-
tial and general way. The conclusion is forced
on us that we have not to do with a symbolic
legend, framed to account for an observance, but
with a historical fact to wfiich the observance
has difficulty in adjusting itself. Apart from
these larger considerations, the evidence for the
historical character of the Last Supper is such as
can hardly admit of serious question, (a) The
facts are recorded by Paul after an interval of
little more than twenty years, and he claims to be
merely transmitting an accepted tradition. (6)
The narrative of Paul is one of several which
have been preserved to us, all of them repeating
the same general features although with differ-
ences that prove them to be independent. From
their divergences we can infer that they reflect
the practice of Christian communities widely re-
moved from each other; while it is manifest, in
view of the substantial agreement, that these
communities were all at one as to the origin of the
rite. If the incident is legendary, the legend must
have been invented in the very earliest days of
the church— at a time, that is, when the facts
were so vividly remembered that invention was
impossible, (c) When we consider the admitted

196 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

circumstances of Jesus' death, his institution of
the Supper has an a priori possibility. He died in
the Passover week, when the thought of the sacred
meal was uppermost in the minds of all men.
Leaving aside for the present the difficult question
as to the precise date of the Last Supper, the
season was one in which it was natural that Jesus
should think of the Passover meal and avail him-
self of its symbolism in his farewell meeting with
his disciples. It may be granted that the ritual
feasts of the contemporary cults left their mark
on the later development of the doctrine of the
Supper; but a sober criticism cannot venture to
explain the Christian ordinance entirely from these,
in face of the obvious parallel afforded by the
Jewish rite of the Passover.

We may assume, then, without misgiving, that
the observance of the Supper was directly re-
lated to the example of Jesus himself. His dis-
ciples remembered that on the last occasion when
they supped with him he had made use of the
bread and wine which lay before him in order to
express some thought that was in his mind. When
the Christian brotherhood was formed at Jeru-
salem the custom established itself, apparently
from the beginning, of re-enacting this farewell
Supper of Jesus. Unfortunately, we are told
nothing in detail as to the nature of the primitive
observance or the ideas connected with it. The

THE LORD'S SUPPER 197

information given us in the book of Acts is all
comprised in two incidental references, both of
them occurring in the passage which describes the
growth of the church after the day of Pentecost,
(o) ''And they continued stedfastly in the teach- 1
ing of the Apostles and the fellowship — in the !
breaking of bread and the prayers" (Acts 2 : 42). /
(b) "And day by day, continuing stedfastly in
the Temple, and breaking bread at home, they
took their food with gladness and singleness of |
heart" (Acts 2 : 46). Another translation of the
former passage is grammatically possible: "they
persisted in the teaching of the Apostles, and in
the fellowship by means of the breaking of bread,
and in the prayers." This rendering has been
adopted by some scholars, who find in it at least
a foothold for a special theory of the primitive
conception of the Supper. But there is no valid
reason for substituting this awkward construc-
tion for the plain and natural one. The author
contemplates not three but four characteristic
elements in the life of the infant church, and he
arranges them in two pairs : on the one hand, ac-
ceptance of the Christian teaching and associa-
tion in a common life; on the other hand, obser-
vance of the supper and meeting together for
prayer.

From these two notices in Acts, brief and
meagre as they are, we can draw several impor-
tant inferences. (1) The observance which in the ^^

198 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

later Pauline communities bore the name of " the
Lord's Supper" was originally known as "the
breaking of bread." That this phrase applies
not to an ordinary meal but to the specific rite
of the Supper is rendered certain by Luke's usage
elsewhere; for example, in the story of the walk to
Emmaus, where the Lord reveals himself to the
two disciples by his "breaking of bread." * It
is a forcing of language to conclude, as some have
done, that the distribution of the cup had no
place in the primitive ritual; for the complete
ordinance may well have been connoted by a
name that applied strictly to one part of it. Yet
we may fairly assume that the breaking of bread
was recognised as the chief part of the ordinance,
and this assumption is borne out by other evi-
dences in the New Testament. In the Emmaus
story already mentioned it is by the definite act
of breaking the bread that Jesus makes himself
known. The miracle of the feeding of the five
thousand is meant, we can hardly doubt, to bear
that reference to the Supper which is explicitly
found in it by the fourth evangelist; and it con-
sists in the giving of bread. This symbolic mir-
acle points us, likewise, to the true significance
of the breaking of the bread. Paul, in his desire
to correlate the Supper with his own theological
ideas, seems to regard the breaking as in some
way typical of the destruction of Christ's body.
* Cf. also Acts 20 : 7-12.

THE LORD'S SUPPER 199

But this interpretation is arbitrary and is only
hinted at by Paul himself. The true emphasis j
falls on the distribution of the bread, which is'
broken into portions that all alike may partake!
of it.

(2) The supper was observed daily, and in
private houses; for this is apparently the mean-
ing of the somewhat ambiguous phrase /car oIkov
(Acts 2 : 46). Even in the earliest days the num-
ber of the believers w^as too large to admit of a
meal in which all could participate together; and
Luke tells us, therefore, that, while a general
gathering took place each day in the precincts of
the temple, the brethren separated into groups
and adjourned to different houses for the purpose
of the Supper. From the double statement that
it was held daily and in a semi-private fashion, we
can infer that it was a social meal as well as a
religious ordinance. At a later period we hear
of two distinct meals — the agape, or feast of
Christian fellowship, and the eucharist. These
two meals seem at first to have been linked to-
gether and afterward to have been disjoined.
Their changing relation to each other forms a
difficult problem in early church history which
does not here concern us. For the apostolic age
seems to have recognised only one meal, which
underwent division at a subsequent time when it
was felt desirable to mark the solemn character
of the ritual observance by separating it from the

200 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

meal as a whole. In the classic passage of the
eleventh chapter of I Corinthians Paul describes
a Lord's Supper which is at the same time a meal
for social fellowship. His language would seem
to suggest that the distribution of the bread took
place at the beginning of the meal and the drink-
ing of the cup at a later stage, "after they had
supped." In any case, he thinks of the obser-
vance proper as consecrating the whole meal, of
which it forms an integral part. The notices in
Acts reflect a similar usage, for they make no dis-
tinction between the daily meal and the " breaking
of bread" which accompanied it. How long the
custom continued of celebrating the Lord's Supper
as part of the ordinary meal we have no means
of determining. In the Pauline communities, al-
though the meal still retained its social character,
the daily observance had already given place to
a weekly one. But we have to remember that
the mood of the church in the initial days was one
of glowing enthusiasm inspired by the momentary
expectation of the return of Christ. Every meal
at which the believers held fellowship with one
another seemed to mark the eve of the great ful-
filment, and no need was felt to separate the or-
dinary eating and drinking from the sanctities of
the Lord's Supper.

(3) A further aspect of the observance, as con-
templated in these passages of Acts, has rightly
been emphasised by modern scholars. " Breaking

THE LORD'S SUPPER 201

bread in the house-gatherings, they ate/* we are
told, "with gladness" (Acts 2 : 46). The meal,
apparently, was the occasion of joyous intercourse,
not of such mournful reminiscence as might have
seemed more fitting in a commemoration of the
Lord's death. That the Supper continued to bear
this character of gladness may be gathered from
Paul's rebuke of the manner of its observance at
Corinth. It had there degenerated into a mere
festive banquet in which its sacred import was
almost entirely forgotten. The influence of the
pagan feasts may, no doubt, have contributed to
this perversion of the meal in the Greek city, but
in the main we may see in it the exaggeration of a
primitive custom. A spirit of joyful fellowship
had been associated with the Supper from the
earliest days. Conclusions of a far-reaching na-
ture have been deduced from this feature of
the observance. It has been maintained that the
Supper had originally no specific reference to the
death of Christ and that this significance was
imported into it at a later time by Paul.* But,
while it is legitimate to argue that a feast of
gladness cannot have been a mere commemora-
tion of the great tragedy, we cannot infer that it
was dissociated from it altogether. Jesus himself, I
according to the Gospel record, foresaw in his]
death the necessary transition to the victory of his
cause, and by means of the Supper pointed his dis-
* This is the view taken by Heitmiiller, Spitta, Reville, etc.

202 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

ciples beyond the apparent ruin to the triumph.
As they recalled the circumstances in which it had
been instituted they may well have connected it
with the hope that sustained Jesus in the face of
death rather than with the death itself. This
was the more natural as the death had now issued
in the victorious resurrection which had given a
new meaning to the hope. Any other mood than
that of rejoicing must have appeared false to the
spirit of the ordinance as it had been conceived
by Jesus himself.

These, then, are the chief aspects of the Supper
which are brought to our knowledge by the frag-
mentary statements in Acts, but it is evident
that they have little light to throw on the cen-
tral question as to the meaning attached to the
rite by the first disciples. In order to find some
answer to this question it will be necessary to
bring the scanty data of Acts into relation with
the narratives of the institution of the Supper
and with the knowledge we have gained concern-
ing the character and aims of the new community.

The institution of the Supper is described by
all three Synoptic writers as well as by Paul in
the familiar passage of I Corinthians, and the
several accounts all vary in important respects
from one another. These differences seem to have
arisen not so much from any dissension regarding
the facts as from the interpretations placed upon

THE LORD'S SUPPER 203

them in various circles. Since the ordinance con-
sisted of symbolic actions, the meaning of which
was far from self-evident, it was customary to add
words of elucidation, and these in the course of
time became interwoven with the traditional for-
mulae. A comparison of our extant accounts
sufficiently illustrates this process. "\Miere Mark
simply states the fact "they all drank of it,"
Matthew attributes to Jesus himself the command:
" Drink ye all of it." To the formula concerning
the blood of the covenant he adds the explanatory
clause "for the remission of sins." The words in
Paul's account, "Do this in remembrance of me,"
are unknown to Mark and Matthew, and are, no
doubt, introduced by Paul himself to enforce the
intention of Jesus that the rite should be repeated.
How easily such additions might slip in we can
see from the close of Paul's narrative, where it is
uncertain whether Paul is appending a comment of
his own or continuing the words of Jesus. The
accretions which have thus overlaid the funda-
mental ritual of the Supper would probably be
recognised at first in their true character, but the
task of disengaging them is now one of extreme
difficulty. It would be rash to assume, with some
modern critics, that the rite as enacted by Jesus
was practically unaccompanied by any words de-
scriptive of its purpose, but the formulae he em-
ployed must have been of the simplest and briefest.
There could have been no room for divergent ex-

204 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

planations if the authentic words had themselves
been fully adequate.

Our accounts differ, moreover, not only as to
the details of the institution but as to its whole
setting and occasion. Did it coincide with the
Passover meal or was it a new rite founded inde-
pendently of the Passover? It is well known that
in the Fourth Gospel the death of Christ is as-
signed to the day preceding the feast of Passover,
so that his last Supper with his disciples was
separated by a day from the Passover meal. By
itself the evidence of the Fourth Gospel is pre-
carious, and is especially so on a point like this
where the evangelist was tempted to indulge in
his favourite symbolism by making the death of
Jesus contemporaneous with the slaying of the
paschal lamb. But the Johannine date is sup-
ported by the inherent probabilities of the case.
The desire of the authorities, as Mark himself tes-
tifies, was to secure the removal of Jesus on a day
that would not clash with the solemnities of the
Passover feast, and there is no evidence that they
were hindered in the execution of their plan. In-
deed, a close examination of Mark^s own narra-
tive seems to reveal a certain awkwardness and
inconsistency, as if some earlier tradition of a
supper previous to the Passover had been dis-
placed by the later one. It has to be recognised
that if John was tempted to bring the death of
Jesus into relation with the slaying of the lamb

THE LORD'S SUPPER 205

the Synoptic writers may likewise have been in-
fluenced by a theological motive. Luke, more
particularly, does not conceal his anxiety that
the Supper should be regarded as the meal in
which the Passover found its true fulfilment.
The Jewish feast, with all that it recalled and sig-
nified, is now to be superseded by the real Pass-
over.

The problem does not admit of any definite
solution, and perhaps its bearings on the import
of the Supper are not so vital as many writers
have assumed. It cannot be doubted that if the
Supper did not actually coincide with the Pass-
over meal it yet took place at the Passover sea-
son when men's minds were occupied with the
thought of the sacred ordinance. To Jesus, who
had eagerly desired to eat this Passover with his
disciples before he suffered, the coming feast
must have appealed the more solemnly and im-
pressively since he knew that he would not share
it. The ideas associated with it, the practice and
symbolism of the cherished observance, would
naturally determine his action as he presided at
the Supper. On the other hand, even if we could
prove that the new rite sprang directly out of the
Passover meal, it would have to be recognised as
something new. Jesus did not provide a sub-
stitute for the Jewish feast. As a matter of fact,
the disciples, until after the days of Paul, con-
tinued to hold the Passover along with their

206 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

countrymen — betraying no consciousness that the
daily or weekly Supper had taken its place. The
Supper must be regarded as an entirely new rite,
and any attempt to explain it as a replica or a
modification of the older feast can only confuse
us as to its purpose. None the less, it originated \
in close connection with the Passover meal and
has so far to be interpreted in the light of Passover
ideas. The conflict of evidence concerning the
true date of the Last Supper serves to impress
on us these two facts, and they need equally to be
borne in mind.

The four New Testament accounts of the in-
stitution of the Supper fall, broadly speaking,
into two groups — Matthew and Mark as against
Paul and Luke. Matthew's divergences from
Mark are all of the nature of explanatory additions
which have little value in helping us back toward
a more original or even an alternative version.
In the case of Luke and Paul, however, we are
confronted with a problem the full significance of
which has only been appreciated in recent years.
Half of Luke's account (Luke 22 : 196-20) is an
almost exact reproduction of the parallel passage
in I Corinthians; the other half is independent
alike of the Pauline and the Marcan versions. It
is important to observe that this section of Luke's
narrative forms by itself a complete account of
the Supper. ''And he received a cup, and when

THE LORD'S SUPPER 207

he had given thanks he said, Take this and divide
it among yourselves; for I say unto you, I will not
drink henceforth of the fruit of the vine until the
kingdom of God shall come. And he took bread,
and when he had given thanks he brake it and
gave to them saying. This is my body." The
verses which follow would require us to suppose
that the cup was reduplicated as at the Passover
meal. In the view of many critics,* the short text
of Luke is the original one, and has been supple-
mented from I Corinthians by some scribe who was
anxious to bring it into conformity with the now
established usage. The fact that the supplemen-
tary verses are wanting in manuscripts of the
Western type lends a considerable support to this
theory. Yet it must not be accepted too hastily,
for not only is the manuscript evidence for the
longer version exceedingly strong, but the intro-
duction of the tw^o cups would be quite in keeping
with Luke's obvious desire to assimilate the Sup-
per to the Passover meal. It seems difficult to
deny, however, that there is a fusion of tw^o sepa-
rate accounts, and whether it is due to Luke or to
some later editor is a matter of minor importance.
In the short text of Luke we have preserved to us
a third independent tradition, which has to be
considered along with those recorded by Paul and
Mark; but we cannot accept without reserve the
widely prevalent view that it is the oldest of the
* E.g., Heitmiiller, Wellhausen, J. Weiss.

208 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

three traditions. In a matter affecting the ritual
of the chief act of Christian worship, Luke's
preference would be given not necessarily to the
oldest and best-authenticated version, but to that
which supported the usage of his own church.

From a comparison of the various narratives
three facts appear to stand out concerning which
the tradition was unanimous: (1) that Jesus dis-
tributed bread and wine to his disciples; (2) that
in dispensing the bread he spoke the words, "Thisl
is my body"; (3) that in connection with the cup;
he declared that he would next drink it with his
disciples at the Messianic banquet in the kingdom
of God. As regards this last point, it is true that
the words — in themselves so characteristic of the
language of Jesus — are wanting in the narrative
of Paul, but he adds a clause which suggests them
in a sort of paraphrase: "Ye do show the Lord's
death till he come."

The chief difficulties gather around the mysteri-
ous words, " This is my body, " — words which in all
the accounts are placed at the centre, as indicating
the true purpose of the Supper. From the time
of the Fourth Gospel onward it has been custom-
ary to interpret them in the terms of a mysti-
cal theology, and controversialists have read into
them all manner of impossible meanings in order
to force them into the service of some particular
dogma. Modern criticism holds aloof from these
prepossessions and tries to understand the words

THE LORD'S SUPPER 209

simply in their context and in their relation to the
aims and conceptions of Jesus. In recent years
the interpretation of the words, as of the Supper
generally, has been largely guided by the sugges-
tion contained in a passage of Paul: "The cup
of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion
of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, j
is it not the communion of the body of Christ?
For we, being many, are one loaf, one body; for
we are all partakers of that one loaf" (I Cor. 10 :
16, 17). Paul here illustrates the unity of the
Christian church from the symbolism of the
Supper. As one loaf is broken up and divided
among the communicants, so all have part in one
common life. In their diversity they yet consti-
tute the one body of Christ, by fellowship with
whom they are brought into union. A similar
idea seems to find expression in the eucharistic
prayer of the "Didache," which in all likelihood
is a fragment of a traditional liturgy: "As this ^
broken bread was scattered upon the mountains, \
and being gathered together became one, so may
thy church be gathered together from the ends of j
the earth into thy Kingdom." On the ground of
these evidences it is contended that the Supper
was originally a feast of brotherhood and that
Jesus had himself instituted it for this purpose.
At his farewell meeting with his disciples he gave
a consecration to that fellowship around a com-
mon table which had marked them as brethren.

210 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

He impressed upon them that after his death they
were to remain united, conscious that they were
bound together in his cause and that he himself
was still, in some manner, present with them.
In this sense, it is argued, the enigmatical words
of the formula are to be explained. Jesus bade
his disciples think of the bread as the pledge and
the symbol of his own presence. Partaking of it,
they were to feel that they were still his comrades
and that their loyalty to the one Master was the
bond that united them.

This explanation of the rite and its accompany-
ing words has commended itself to many scholars,
but on the face of it appears strained and unnat-
ural. No ingenuity can fairly construe the words,
"This is my body," as a command to observe the
Supper as a feast of brotherhood. Moreover, the
passages which are urged in proof of the theory are
found, on closer examination, to have little bear-
ing on it. Paul's reference to the "one loaf" as
typical of the unity of all Christians is dependent
on his peculiar doctrine that the church is the
body of Christ. By a turn of fanciful imagery
he finds this doctrine implied in the ritual of the
Supper, but he does not intend his words to be
taken literally. When, in the following chapter,
he comes to speak directly of the significance of
the bread, he connects it solely with the death of
Christ. As for the prayer in the "Didache," it
has only a superficial correspondence with PauPs

THE LORD'S SUPPER 211

conception of "one loaf, one body." The idea
expressed in it is a purely eschatological one — the
bread compounded of scattered grains of corn
symbolising the reunion of believers in the coming
kingdom of God. It is, indeed, certain that the
Supper, from the very outset, was a bond of
Christian brotherhood; this has ever been one of
its most cherished functions in the worship of the
church. But this does not imply that Jesus in-
stituted it wholly or mainly for such a purpose.
We may conjecture, rather, that its meaning as a
bond of union was rooted in some deeper meaning
which was present in the mind of Jesus and which
was fully recognised by his first disciples.

What, then, was the primary import of the
Supper, the import which is somewhere hidden
in the central words: "This is my body"? In
order to discover some answer to this question
there are several considerations that must be
borne in mind. (1) Jesus was consciously on the
verge of his death, and the thought of it at that
moment must have coloured all his other thoughts.
His action at the Last Supper must be inter-
preted in the closest relation to his death. (2)
The death, as he conceived it, was something more
than a sad separation from his companions. He
believed that it was divinely ordained and that
by means of it, in some way, the kingdom was to
be brought nearer. A thought of this kind is
plainly involved in his words describing the Supper

212 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

as a prelude to the Messianic banquet. (3) The
Supper, whether it coincided with the Passover
meal or not, was affected by the thoughts and
memories that clustered around the Passover.
At this season his countrymen were observing
their great national festival. They were being
reminded anew not only that they were brethren
but that they were united in a high calling as the
chosen people of God.

When these circumstances of the Supper are
taken together we seem to be guided at least to
a probable explanation of its purpose and mean-
ing. Jesus was about to surrender his life in the
conviction that thus, according to the divine plan,
he would bring in the kingdom. He was to die
as "a ransom for many," inaugurating, by his
own sacrifice, a new and happier order into which
many would enter. And by his action at the
Supper he formally bestowed on each one of his
disciples a portion in the approaching kingdom.
The sacrifice he was about to make was his own
personal act, but he identified them with it so
that they might claim their share in the fulfil-
ment that would ensue. Partaking in this or-
dinance, they were adopted as heirs of the king-
dom. As the Passover meal was the token of
membership in the commonwealth of Israel, so the
participation in this Supper was to seal the mem-
bers of the new community which would come into
being through his death.

THE LORD'S SUPPER 213

By means of this interpretation we can dis-
cover in the words, "This is my body/' a real and
intelligible meaning — a meaning, too, that fits
in with the historical circumstances and with the
teaching of Jesus as a whole. He had learned, if
we may trust the evidence of our Gospels, to
contemplate his death in the light of ideas sug-
gested by the prophecy of the suffering servant.
His body given up to death was to be accepted as
the "ransom" which would avail for many. He
sought to declare to his disciples that they would
have their part in the "ransom," that they were
represented in his individual act; and this he did
by a symbolism that suggested itself at the mo-
ment. The bread that lay before him on the table
was something that could be divided, distributed,
assimilated; so was it with his body offered in
sacrifice. The act was his own act, but he granted
to his disciples that they should participate in it
and so obtain their share in his victory.

The words, "This is my body," have their
counterpart, according to our records, in another
saying, spoken at the distribution of the cup.
Mark and Paul agree, although with minor dif-
ferences, in assigning to Jesus the words concern-
ing a "new covenant," ratified in his blood, of
which the wine was a symbol. Before we con-
sider the more radical problem affecting this part
of the Supper narratives it may be well to de-

214 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

termine how the words have to be understood.
What is the precise meaning of the term BcaOtj/cT),
so important for its bearing not only on the doc-
trine of the Supper but on the whole thought of
primitive Christianity?

In the ordinary Greek of the first century
haOrjKT] had undoubtedly the well-understood
meaning of a "will," and in recent years the at-
tempt has been made to establish this as the
normal New Testament usage.* The Supper
would thus become Jesus* bequest to his disciples
— the testament he delivers to them immediately
before his death. It is evident, however, that the
words attributed to him are an echo of those of
Moses, "Behold the blood of the covenant which
the Lord hath made with you," f ^^^ \iqtq. the
supposed meaning is excluded. Moreover, it is
incompatible with the idea of a new covenant,
which is emphasised by Paul although omitted by
Mark. Even less adequate is another interpreta-
tion put forward to support the theory that the
Supper was in its essence a feast of brotherhood. J
The word hiaOr^KT], it is argued, must be taken in
its sense of an "alliance," and implies nothing
more than that Jesus ordained a new bond to
unite his followers. On linguistic if on no other

*Cf. Deissmann, "Paulus," 102; Dibelius, "Das Abend-
mahl."

t Ex. 24 : 8.

i This view is advocated by R^ville, " Les Origines do

TEucharistie."

THE LORD'S SUPPER 215

grounds this meaning is excluded. The sort of
"alliance" which is denoted by the term BiadrJKr)
is a formal convention between two parties, not
the uniting of a group of men in a bond of com-
radeship. In view of the religious tradition, which
in this case must have been decisive, we have
little choice but to take BtadijKr] in its Old Testa-
ment sense of a "covenant," and the real diffi-
culty consists in the exact definition of the Old
Testament term. Originally, no doubt, its re-
ligious, like its ordinary, meaning was that of an
agreement between two parties as to their recip-
rocal obligations, but in the later Old Testament
period this idea of contract passes out of sight.
God's authority is absolute — he does not treat
with men upon conditions but simply imposes
his sovereign will. Thus the word comes to sig-
nify a declaration on the part of God whereby, in
accordance with his gracious purpose, men are
placed in a certain relation to himself.* This
meaning plainly underlies the classical passage in
Jeremiah, t to which the conception of a "new
covenant" must ultimately be traced. As he
looks forward to the promised consummation,
the prophet declares that Israel will at last be-
come God's people in very truth. Formerly they
had been unfaithful to the vocation he had marked

* An able discussion leading to this result will be found in
Behm, "Diatheke."
t Jer. 31 : 31 #.

216 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

out for them, but in the days to come he will
write his laws upon their hearts. "They shall be
my people, and I will be their God." In our ac-
counts of the Supper Jesus reverts to this pro-
phetic utterance, which presents in its loftiest
form the Old Testament expectation of the king-
dom. He affirms that hereafter God will bring
men into a new relation to him, choosing for him-
self a people that will realise the true destiny
of Israel. And as the ancient covenant was
ratified with a sacrifice, the blood of which was
sprinkled on the people, so Jesus offered the cup
to his disciples as "the new covenant in my
blood."

It cannot be denied, however, that this part of
the Supper tradition is beset with grave diffi-
culties, so much so that we can hardly accept it
without some misgiving. (1) The whole refer-
ence to the blood of the covenant is omitted in the
short text of Luke. (2) In the Marcan version,
which is repeated by Matthew, the words "of
the covenant" are introduced awkwardly and
have all the appearance of a later addition (toOto
i<7TLV TO alfid fjLOv T^9 Biadij/CTj^ TO eiC')(yvv6ixevov irrrep
TToXXwi/). (3) If the Mosaic precedent was in
Jesus' mind — and this is clearly suggested by the
formula — it is difficult to explain the drinking
of the cup; we should rather have expected a sym-
bolic act of sprinkling. (4) Jesus' reference to
his blood is obviously meant to be parallel to the

THE LORD'S SUPPER 217

previous reference to his "body.'' But if this
parallel had been intended by him he would not
have said, " This is my body, " for acofia is a com-
prehensive term denoting the whole personality,
but: "This is my flesh." (5) It is one of the most
certain data of the narrative that in connection
with the cup he spoke of the time when he would
drink the wine new in the kingdom of God. If
we accept the words concerning the blood of the
covenant we must suppose that he accompanied
the distribution of the cup with two separate say-
ings; and not only so, but that he passed over to
a wholly different sphere of thought and imagery.
When due weight is allowed to all these difficul-
ties we are compelled to feel that in the incident
of the cup the authentic tradition has been over-
laid by subsequent reflection. The church was
anxious to equate its solemn ordinance with that
which had ushered in the history of Israel. Like-
wise a sacrificial doctrine of the death of Christ
had gradually developed itself and reacted on
the theory of the Supper. It would relieve the
narrative of many perplexities if we supposed that
Jesus gave the cup simply by way of anticipation
of the Messianic feast. The two parts of his action
at the Supper would then connect with one an-
other in a natural sequence. By the distribution
of the bread he adopted his disciples into the new
community that would be realised through his
death. Then he offered them the cup as a pledge

218' THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

of their reunion with him as a redeemed people
in the kingdom of God.

Nevertheless, it is significant that already in the
days of Paul the Supper had become associated
with the idea of the New Covenant. The words
of the formula may be unhistorical, but they
afford us an all-important clew to the meaning
attached to the Supper by that primitive church
which stood in immediate relation to Jesus. In
language borrowed from the Old Testament the
church expressed what it believed to be his es-
sential purpose in the institution of the rite. He
was aware that by his death fulfilment would be
given to the promise of the kingdom. God would
form for himself a new community, a true Israel,
which would know his will and in which his pur-
poses would at last be realised. As Moses by
the sprinkling of blood had consecrated Israel as
God's people, so the disciples were now admitted
to their supreme privilege as children of the
kingdom. The conception of the New Cove-
nant was henceforth normative in Christianity.
It was construed, in the process of time, by means
of theological categories which were alien to the
thought of Jesus, but essentially it was in harmony
with his own teaching. The church embodied
it in the ritual of the Supper because it expressed
more clearly than any other conception the ulti-
mate meaning of the rite.

We find, then, as we examine the Supper narra-

THE LORD'S SUPPER 219

tives, that almost at every step we are brought face
to face with insoluble problems; yet amidst all the
confusion certain broad results seem to emerge.
Jesus had partaken, with his disciples, of what he
knew to be their last meal together, and the oc-
casion was doubly sacred because the season was
that of Passover. Possessed with the conviction
that through his approaching death the kingdom
would break in, he desired to give a pledge to his
followers that they would share with him in his
victory. By an impressive symbolism, suggested
by the meal, he identified them with his act of
sacrifice, thereby securing to them their place in
the future community of God's people. At a
later time this action of Jesus was rightly inter-
preted in terms of the covenant idea. Jeremiah
had foretold a day when God would make a new
covenant with Israel — in other words, would es-
tablish a new and higher relation between himself
and his people. This promise had now reached
fulfilment. The disciples of Jesus, adopted by
him as participants in his death, had entered on
their higher vocation as the chosen people of God.

As we now return from this investigation of the
origin of the Supper to the place which it occupied
in the primitive church, an important question
falls to be considered. Did Jesus institute the
rite with the deliberate purpose that it should be
repeated from time to time? Such an intention

220 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

is made explicit in the Pauline formula, repro-
duced in the longer text of Luke: "Do this in re-
membrance of me." These words, however, are
not found in the other narratives, and the omis-
sion cannot be accidental. The observance had
so rooted itself in the custom of the church that
if Jesus had left an express command for its rep-
etition the fact would have been emphatically
recorded. We can only regard the formula given
by Paul as a later addition, supplying a want
which may have caused misgivings. It is, indeed,
possible that even if Jesus did not enjoin the
repetition he made it clear from his mode of ob-
serving the rite that he meant it to remain as a
constant ordinance. But here we must bear in
mind that he does not seem to have contemplated
the formation of a church with stated rites and
institutions. In the very act of dispensing the
Supper he declared his belief that the consum-
mation was near and that he would presently
drink the wine new in the kingdom of God. Thus
we have no ground for assuming that he meant
the ordinance to be repeated. On the contrary,
we are left with the impression of an act performed
once for all at a culminating moment by way of a
farewell pledge.

How, then, are we to account for the undoubted
fact that the disciples from the first adopted the
Supper as their characteristic rite and daily re-
peated it? The explanation must be sought not

THE LORD'S SUPPER 221

in some express commandment they had received
from Jesus but in the significance which the rite
possessed for them. They believed — if our inter-
pretation has been correct — that by means of the
Supper Jesus had confirmed them in their privi-
lege as heirs of the kingdom. He had called them
into a new covenant whereby they were acknowl-
edged as the true Israel of God. On its claim to
be the new community, destined to inherit the
coming age, the whole life of the church was
founded, and we cannot wonder that care was
taken to perpetuate the ordinance which indorsed
that claim. Day by day the believers re-enacted
the Supper as it had been observed by Jesus. In
this manner they recalled the assurance he had
given them and kept alive in their hearts the con-
sciousness of their great vocation. Each meeting
of the church was signalised by the repetition of
the Supper, for by this act it recited, as it were, the
grand charter which had constituted it the church.
In one sense, indeed, there was something more
than a mere repetition of the rite that had been
celebrated by Jesus. That first observance of the
Supper had still involved an element of anticipa-
tion. The disciples were admitted to a privilege
on which they could not fully enter until the
death, whereby it would be secured to them, had
been accomplished. But now the condition was
fulfilled and Jesus had taken his place as Lord.
His people could think of themselves as in very

222 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

truth the elect community in which the powers of
the new age were already operative. We can
understand, therefore, the peculiar import which
attached to the Supper from the beginning and
which rendered it the natural focus of mystical
feeling and speculation. At this ordinance the
believers were withdrawn from the world and
realised in their fellowship with one another that
they were the children of the kingdom and had
part in the new life. They not only anticipated
the reunion with Christ at the Messianic banquet,
but knew it in some measure as a present reality.
When we thus apprehend the meaning of the
Supper the indications given us in the book of
Acts assume a fresh value and explain themselves
more fully. The rite was celebrated with glad-
ness, for it brought with it in some sense a fruition
of that hope on which the Christian life was con-
centrated. Jesus had departed into the unseen
that he might be Lord in the promised kingdom,
and while they partook of his Supper his people
could feel that they were united with him and
shared his victory. Again, although it was com-
bined with the social meal, the Supper was an act
of worship and is mentioned by the writer of
Acts along with the prayers. For the disciples it
was the pledge of that new relation in which they
now stood to God. Through Christ they had be-
come his elect people, and their worship hence-
forth was all pervaded by this sense of a closer

THE LORD'S SUPPER 223

communion with God. Once more, it was the
seal and declaration of Christian brotherhood.
By means of the Supper the disciples were not
only united in comradeship round the memory of
a beloved Master but were reminded, to use the
words of Paul, that they formed one body. Jesus
had separated them from the world as the com-
munity of the kingdom. The bread that was
broken among them was symbolical of the one
life, the one higher calling, of which they had all
alike become partakers.

In the primitive observance, therefore, the way
was already prepared for that estimate of the
Supper which found expression in the later doc-
trine. It was inevitable that in process of re-
flection and under the many alien influences
that acted on Christianity the meaning of the
rite should be subjected to new interpretations.
Apocalyptic ideas were explained in the terms of
Hellenistic mysticism. Beliefs that were originally
simple and concrete were brought into ever closer
relation to a speculative theology. But the point
of departure for all the later development was
the primitive conception of the "new covenant,"
whereby the people of Christ received their in-
heritance in that kingdom which was to be real-
ised through his death. On this conception the
church was founded, and it was bequeathed to
the first disciples by Jesus himself.

LECTURE IX

STEPHEN

The advent of Stephen, followed almost im-
mediately by his death, marks the first great
turning-point in the history of the church. It
hastened the separation of the new religion from
Judaism. It led to the dispersion of the primitive
community and in this manner prepared the way
for an extended mission. Above all, it had for
its direct outcome the accession to Christianity
of its foremost convert and Apostle. From this
time onward the church at Jerusalem falls into
the background and the main interest centres on
the personality and career of Paul.

Stephen thus signalises the transition from the
earlier to the later development, and we think of
him chiefly in his relation to that new and larger
phase of Christian history which he inaugurated.
His work merges in that of Paul, of whom in
more than a superficial sense he was the fore-
runner. But in point of historical fact Stephen
belonged to the early community, and perhaps
he has a greater significance for the time that pre-
ceded than for the time that followed him. For
one moment the obscurity that overhangs the
224

STEPHEN 225

initial period is illuminated by the passage across
it of this memorable figure; and we are able to
form some estimate of the new movement as it
had now shaped itself, after several years of silent
growth.

The episode of Stephen is the more instructive
as it is recorded for us in sources which we can
employ with some degree of confidence. Here, if
an>^^here in the early chapters of the book of
Acts, we seem to find evidence that Luke is avail-
ing himself of authentic documents which he has
not revised so carefully but we may still detach
the several strands out of which his narrative is
woven. This conviction, forced on us by detailed
study of the historical section, makes it highly
probable that in his record also of the speech of
Stephen Luke has a primitive source before him.
This probability is raised almost to a certainty
when we examine the speech itself. (1) The ful-
ness with which it is reported is out of all pro-
portion to the scale of the book. It is difficult
to believe that Luke, with his fine sense of liter-
ary fitness, would have encumbered his narrative
with this long dissertation unless it had come down
to him in some genuine source which he was
anxious to preserve. (2) It is not only unduly
long but irrelevant, so much so that all writers on
the apostolic age have been puzzled to discover
its exact purpose. The charges on which Stephen
is on trial for his life are left unanswered; no care

226 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

is taken to make the speech appropriate to the
audience and the circumstances. If Luke had
himself composed it he would surely have thrown
into it something of that dramatic force of which
he was a master. A similar opportunity is of-
fered him later in the book, and we have only to
contrast this colourless speech of Stephen with
the magnificent defence of Paul before Agrippa.
There appears, indeed, to be good ground for the
conjecture that the speech ought properly to have
been connected with Stephen's disputing in the
synagogue as described in the previous chapter.*
Luke either failed to apprehend its true setting
or purposely transposed it to its present place in
order to invest the abstract discussion with a
more human interest. It may be regarded not
as the defence of Stephen before the council but
as a summary of Stephen's preaching preserved
in some document which had fallen into the hands
of Luke. (3) The argument, irrelevant to its cir-
cumstances, is itself obscure. We have the im-
pression, as we try to make out its drift, that it
represents a mode of Christian apologetic which
in Luke's day had already become unintelligible.
On a superficial view the argument attributed to
Paul, in his speech at Antioch in Pisidia,t follows a
somewhat similar line. Paul begins, like Stephen,

* So Bacon in his valuable monograph, "The Speech of
Stephen."

t Acts 13 : 16 #.

STEPHEN 227

with a survey of the early history of Israel, trac-
ing it down from the bondage in Egypt to the
reign of David; and from this coincidence it has
been inferred that both speeches are the free com-
position of Luke. But a closer comparison seems
to make it evident that the later speech is an
imitation of the earlier one and betrays a mis-
understanding of its real meaning. The histori-
cal survey is suddenly broken off, as if the writer
could not tell what conclusions he ought to draw
from it. It serves merely as a prelude which
might well be dispensed with, while for Stephen
it obviously had some vital bearing on the whole
claim and import of Christianity.

In view of these various indications we may be
reasonably confident that in the speech of Stephen
we have an early document incorporated, not
altogether skilfully, in the book of Acts. There
is no intrinsic evidence that Stephen was the au-
thor of the speech, and Luke may have assigned
it to him in the same manner as he attributes
other anonymous fragments of early preaching
to Peter. But he apparently has some reason
to believe that it represents Stephen's mode of
teaching; and from the care with which he has
preserved it, in spite of its seeming irrelevance,
we may conclude that it had actually come down
to him under the name of Stephen. It may be
hazardous to maintain, as some scholars have
ventured to do, that in this chapter of Acts we

228 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

have the earliest extant document of Christian
literature; but there is no fair reason to doubt
that it bears the impress of primitive ideas.
The results to which we have been led along pre-
vious lines of inquiry will receive a new confirma-
tion if they can be shown to explain and illustrate
the speech of Stephen.

In the introduction to his account of Stephen,
Luke incidentally informs us of two facts, which
are of the highest interest and importance. (1)
He indicates, in the first place, that the Helle-
nistic element had already become prominent in
the church — so prominent that special measures
had to be taken to meet its needs. Nothing has
been told us in the earlier chapters concerning this
large accession of foreign-born Jews. We sud-
denly learn for the first time that they had been
peculiarly attracted to the new movement and
now formed a considerable section of its adherents.
From this fact it has been argued that Christian-
ity, even in its initial period, bore something of
an alien character and made its strongest appeal
to those who were outside of the strict pale of
Judaism. But reasoning of this kind is highly
precarious. We know from various sources that
the Law was no less jealously guarded by the
foreign than by the Palestinian Jews. Paul en-
dured his chief persecutions at the hands of his
countrymen of the Dispersion; and it was the

STEPHEN 229

Hellenists, as we learn from this very chapter of
Acts, who instituted the proceedings against
Stephen. Indeed, it may be presumed that the
foreign Jews resident in Jerusalem were in a
special degree attached to Judaism, since it can
hardly have been any other than a religious motive
which had led them to settle in the holy city. At
the same time we have to remember the distinc-
tion, already considered, between the ceremonial
and the speculative sides of Jewish piety. Jews
who had lived under the influences of the larger
gentile world were familiar with ideas which
played little part in the ordinary religion of Pales-
tine. They had learned to be receptive of new
truth even while they held with uncompromising
firmness to their observance of the Law. The
philosophical movement of Alexandria was only
the most notable of many eJBPorts on the part of
Jews of the Dispersion to read fresh meanings into
the tenets of Judaism. Their very ardour for the
Law inspired them with the desire to present it in
such a fashion that it might appeal to the world
as a universal message.

It may be conjectured that this liberality of
thought among the Hellenists had something to
do with their attraction to Christianity. They
were not committed, like the majority of Pales-
tinian Jews, to one unvarying type of belief.
They welcomed the breadth and suggestiveness
of the Christian teaching and perceived its larger

230 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

possibilities when these were still hidden from the
original disciples. The grand theological develop-
ment of the next generation was entirely due to
the Hellenist Paul and his companions, and we
may believe that their work had already its com-
mencement at Jerusalem. The foreign-born Jews
who had found their way into the community
took up the new teachings in a bold, speculative
spirit. They worked them out along unexpected
lines to issues from which the older Apostles were
inclined to shrink.

(2) Here, perhaps, we find the true explanation
of the other fact which is recorded in this notice
in Acts. The two sections of the church, we
are told, fell into disagreement over a matter of
practical administration. The Hellenists believed
that their poor were being neglected in the ar-
rangements made for the common meal, and in
order to pacify them seven officers were appointed
for the special purpose of watching over their in-
terests. Luke records the names of these seven,
and it may be assumed that he found them in
some authentic document, for with two exceptions
they are otherwise quite unknown. Now it is
probably true that the dissension in the church
had its immediate cause in practical difficulties
such as Luke describes. The attempt to maintain
the principle of all things in common must have
given rise to constant friction, as soon as the
church had outgrown its small beginnings. Charges

STEPHEN 231

of favouritism and injustice would easily gain
credence, and the alien members would be es-
pecially sensitive to any fancied slight on the part
of the Palestinian majority. But when we read
between the lines of Luke's narrative, it becomes
almost certain that the dissension must have had
other and deeper motives than he would have us
believe. It is evident that the Seven were by no
means appointed for the sole duty of supervising
the distribution of charity. Stephen at once be^
gan an active propaganda in the Hellenistic syna-
gogues, and his missionary activity appears to
have been directly connected with his new^ office.
Philip, likewise, comes before us from this time
onward in his character of an evangelist. More-
over, there is no indication that the Apostles gave
up their "service of tables,'* confining themselves
henceforward to the preaching of the Word.
Their duties, so far as we can judge, continued to
be exactly the same as before the Seven were ap-
pointed to relieve them. What seems to have been
effected was a separation not of duties but of
spheres of activity. The church agreed to divide
itself into two sections, the Palestinian majority
remaining as it was, under the supervision of the
Apostles, while the Hellenists formed a group by
themselves, with their own leaders. In this man-
ner a solution was sought for what threatened to
become a grave difficulty.

It is hard to believe that this division of the

232 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

community was brought about solely by the
trivial cause suggested in Luke's narrative. We
may guess, rather, that the practical difference
was only the index of a much more serious cleav-
age, which for some time had been growing mani-
fest. The Hellenists were developing a type of
Christianity which was not entirely consistent
with that of the Apostles, and while full liberty
was granted them it was deemed better that they
should remain apart. It may be that the decision
adopted at a later time by the council of Jerusalem
was influenced by the precedent of this earliest
dispute in the church. In both cases an agree-
ment was sought by means of a friendly separa-
tion. And as Paul and Barnabas in the later in-
stance were left free to evangelise the gentiles,
while the older Apostles preached to the Jews, so
now the missionary field was divided. The Seven
were intrusted not only with the supervision of
the foreign-born converts, but with the work of
propaganda among the Hellenists; and it was in
the prosecution of this work that Stephen was
accused and put to death.

The procedure against Stephen is described in
a confused and contradictory manner, owing to
the attempt to blend together two different ac-
counts. On the one hand, we are told that he
was brought to a formal trial before the council,
in presence of which he delivered his speech of

STEPHEN 233

defence. On the other hand, we are left with the
impression that he was the victim of an out-
break on the part of an angry mob which took
the law into its own hands. That there were
proceedings of some kind before the council can
hardly be doubted, in view of the subsequent
events. A persecution arose against the Hellenis-
tic wing of the church, and was carried out under
oflScial sanction by emissaries duly accredited by
the high priest. The council would not thus have
indorsed the action of a lawless mob unless it had
itself in some fashion taken the initiative. At
the same time, when we consider the restricted
powers allowed to the council by the Roman ad-
ministration, we cannot believe that a sentence of
death was passed on Stephen. For that part, the
narrative in Acts itself, although it describes a
death by stoning according to the regular forms
of Mosaic Law, says nothing about a sentence. It
gives us to understand that the trial was inter-
rupted, and that orderly proceedings were sud-
denly forgotten in an outburst of passion. The
precise facts cannot now be recovered. So far as
we can gather, Stephen died in a popular tumult,
but with the connivance of the council, which had
already set on foot some kind of inquiry into his
teaching. A formal charge had been lodged
against him, to which his speech is the ostensible
reply, and the very irrelevance of the speech is
proof that the charge has not been merely in-
vented for the sake of introducing it.

234 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

The charge is recorded in two forms, and here
again we may discern the attempt to make room
for two narratives, originally distinct. According
to one version (Acts 6 : 11) false witnesses were
suborned, who testified: "We have heard this
man speak blasphemous words against Moses and
against God." Later on (6 : 13) the false wit-
nesses declare before the council, "This man
ceaseth not to speak blasphemous words against
this holy place and the Law"; the specific ground
of the accusation being then added : " For we have
heard him say that this Jesus of Nazareth shall
destroy this place, and shall change the customs
which Moses delivered us." Thus, in one record,
the gravamen of the charge is disloyalty to the
Law; in the other, hostility to the temple and its
ritual. This second version may fairly be con-
sidered the more accurate one. In the speech that
follows, Stephen says nothing that could be con-
strued into treason against the Law; he assumes,
rather, that reverence for the Law is common
ground between himself and his adversaries.
Moreover, in its second form the charge has a
certain correspondence with what we know to
have been the attitude of the primitive church.
The belief undoubtedly was held by the disci-
ples that Jesus would presently return to inaugu-
rate a new order, and this belief may be recognised
with sufiicient clearness in the prejudiced report
of the "false witnesses."

STEPHEN 235

It is not a little significant that the charge
against Stephen bears a close analogy to that
which was brought against Jesus himself. He was
accused of saying, "I will destroy this temple
and build it again in three days"; and, though we
are assured, as in the case of Stephen, that the
accusation was made by "false witnesses," there
can be little doubt that the words were in some
form actually spoken. The fourth evangelist re-
peats the saying as a genuine utterance of Jesus
and adds an explanation of its meaning which is
obviously fanciful. Ignorant as we are of the
context of the saying and the occasion on which
it was spoken, we cannot determine its true im-
port— this had apparently become a matter of
conjecture as early as the Fourth Gospel. But
it is reasonable to suppose that Stephen con-
sciously took up the words of Jesus, interpreting
them in the sense which is suggested in the last
part of his speech (7 : 48^.). God is not con-
fined in temples made with hands. In the king-
dom which was presently to set in the relation
of men to God would be an immediate and
spiritual one and the temple with its ordinances
would be necessary no longer.

We pass, then, to the consideration of the
speech itself, which cannot, as we have seen, have
been delivered at the trial in answer to the given
charge. It consists for the most part of a long

236 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

historical argument and closes with a passage of
stern denunciation; from beginning to end there
is nothing to suggest a speech of defence before
a judicial court. We may even doubt whether
it is a transcript of any definite speech. More
probably it is meant to be an example of the type
of argument which Stephen was wont to employ
in his disputings with the Hellenistic Jews. The
record may have been drawn up after his death,
partly by way of tribute to a revered teacher and
partly to afford guidance to subsequent mission-
aries who were engaged in similar work.

The speech, as we have it, ends abruptly with
the declaration that the murder of the "Just
One" was of a piece with that disobedience to
God which had marked the whole course of Jew-
ish history. "Ye have received the Law by the
disposition of angels, and have not kept it." It
is difficult to believe that the original document
stopped short at this point, and the probability
is that Luke himself abridged it in order to en-
hance the effect of the scene that follows. The
denunciation of the unfaithful people has not
a few analogies in the Old Testament and the
New; and in the light of these we may guess the
nature of the lost conclusion. It would set forth
the inevitable doom that waited on disobedience,
and this threat of doom would merge in a proph-
ecy of the imminent Parousia. Jesus, whom the
people had rejected and crucified, was about to re-

STEPHEN 237

turn as Messiah and summon them to his judg-
ment. It is possible that in the later words of
Stephen, "Behold I see the heavens opened, and
the Son of man standing at the right hand of
God," we have a fragment of the lost ending of
the speech itself. The title, "Son of man," which
occurs only here outside of the Gospels, is uni-
formly connected by Jesus with the thought of
his return in power. Stephen may have employed
it in the same manner while he set before his
hearers an impressive picture of the Parousia that
was just at hand.

The body of the speech, then, consists of a
historical retrospect. Many scholars have tried
to see in it a complete survey of the history of
Israel as falling into three main periods: (a) from
Abraham to Moses; (6) from Moses to David;
(c) the culminating age of David and Solomon.
But a regular plan of this character cannot be
made out. We have not so much a consecutive
survey as a selection of certain typical and out-
standing episodes in the history of the ancient
people; Abraham and his call, the life of Moses,
the building of the temple.

What is the purpose underlying this appar-
ently aimless retrospect of Old Testament history?
Here we arrive at the central problem of the
speech, and a solution has been sought for it
along a great number of diverging lines. Most
of the explanations have proceeded on the as-

238 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

sumption that the speech is Stephen's answer
to the charges brought against him. He is bent
on proving that his doctrine does not involve a
menace to the Law, that he does not disparage
Moses but reveres him, that it is not he but the
Jews themselves who have opposed the ordi-
nances of God. But the attempt to explain the
speech in its bearing on the charges only serves
to make evident its hopeless irrelevance. It is
inconceivable that any man, defending himself
against definite accusations, should have gone to
work in this roundabout fashion. The charges
may have been founded on such a speech as that
before us, but it cannot be construed as an answer
to them. When we neglect the artificial setting
of the speech and take it by itself as a Christian
manifesto, the point of its teaching is still far from
clear. Some writers have found the cardinal
verse in 7 : 37: "This is that Moses who said to
the children of Israel, A prophet shall the Lord
your God raise unto you of your brethren, like
unto me; him shall ye hear." The speech thus
resolves itself into a proof of the Messiahship of
Jesus, addressed to those who hold fast to the
authority of Moses.* Others regard the argu-
ment as turning on 7: 51 or 7: 53, where Stephen
accuses the Jews of having always resisted the
Holy Ghost. The whole survey of their history
has had for its purpose this exposure of their
* So Gfrorer and Spitta.

STEPHEN 239

radical alienation from God, whose chosen people
they professed to be. More often the key to the
speech has been sought in 7 : 48: "Howbeit the
most high dwelleth not in temples made with
hands." Here, it is maintained, the purpose of
the long review of Israelitish history comes at last
to light. Stephen has been bent on proving that
the age-long quest of Israel has been for a spiritual
religion such as has now been given in Christian-
ity. Every new hope of a resting-place had been
in vain, for God will not take up his abode in any
earthly temple. The more recent criticism has
abandoned the method of seeking for any central
verse in the speech and would explain it rather
as dealing with a complex of ideas. Thus Bacon
sees in it a discussion of the three institutions
the right to which is disputed between Jews and
Christians: (a) the Abrahamic inheritance; (6)
the Mosaic revelation; (c) the Davidic presence
of God in Zion.* The aim of the speech is to
show, in Alexandrian fashion, how the Old Testa-
ment institutions were not final but typical, and
have now been realised in Christianity.

None of these theories can be regarded as fully
adequate. They either lay stress on some one
aspect of the argument to the exclusion of others
which are equally important or they resort to

* Schumacher, "Der Diakon Stephanus," also makes the
speech tmn on the three ideas of the temple, the Law, the
Messiah.

240 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

subtleties of interpretation which are not in
keeping with the character of the speech. It
may help us toward a clearer apprehension of the
speaker's purpose if we set before us in brief sum-
mary the ideas to which he gives prominence:
(1) Israel is the chosen people of God.* (2) As
such it has received from God the promise of an
inheritance, and through all its changing experi-
ences has been seeking the fulfilment of this
promise. t (3) God sent to his people a succession
of leaders to guide them in their search, but
these messengers of God were invariably rejected.
Moses himself was disowned in his lifetime by
those whom he had been sent to deliver. J (4)
The search for the promised rest has been always
frustrated, not only by disobedience but by the il-
lusory conditions of earthly life. Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob were sojourners; in Egypt, where the
people expected to find a home, they became
bondsmen; under Moses they wandered in the
wilderness; when they reached the land of prom-
ise they worshipped in a moving tabernacle; the
temple itself was only the shadow of the true
house of God. It is evidently by no mere ac-
cident that the historical survey is brought to a
close with the building of the temple. Although
the history was still to run on for a thousand
years it was completed in its inward meaning by

* 7 : 7, 32, 38. f 5 : 7, 46-47.

t9:23, 25/., 35, 39/.

STEPHEN 241

that event. God^s promise to Abraham had to
all appearance reached fulfilment. Israel had se-
cured its earthly inheritance and had entered into
permanent relation to God by means of a fixed
temple.

When the main ideas of the speech are thus
brought together we can scarcely fail to perceive
the general drift of the speaker's meaning. He
would have us see that Israel, through the whole
course of its history, has been striving in vain to
fulfil its vocation as the people of God. Time
after time, when it seemed won at last, the goal
had receded farther into the distance. But the
argument has little purpose unless we set it
against the background of a thought which is
throughout in the speaker's mind. The history
of Israel has had its outcome in the birth of the
Christian church. That ideal of which the old
Israel fell short by its own unfaithfulness and by
the restrictions laid upon it has been realised in
the new Israel. This is the aim of Stephen — to
demonstrate, in the light of Old Testament his-
tory, that the Ecclesia represents the true people
of God.

He shows, on the one hand, that the church is
identical with the ancient Israel. Ages ago God
chose for himself a people, and its history has been
nothing but one long endeavour, constantly frus-
trated, to obtain that inheritance to which it was
destined. Under one leader and another it had

242 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

seemed to come within reach of it, but after each
apparent attainment the quest had to be resumed.
The Jews are not to think, therefore, that the
Christian movement is a breaking away from the
past; it takes up the effort of the past and brings
it to a consummation. The church is Israel,
entering at last on the inheritance. It is sig-
nificant that in one place Stephen describes the
ancient people under the specific name of "the
Ecclesia in the wilderness" (7 : 38). Here, it
may be said, the thought which pervades the
whole speech comes for a moment to definite ex-
pression. But, on the other hand, a contrast is
drawn between the nation Israel and the church.
It is shown that the people as a whole have been
consistently disobedient, and have so thwarted
God's will with them. Again and again, when he
would have given them rest, they threw them-
selves back into the life of aimless wandering.
He had sent them leader after leader, whom they
had failed to recognise. Although he had chosen
them to be his people, they had resisted his pur-
pose and had proved themselves to be unworthy.
Israel as a nation had forfeited its right, and the
promises were to find their fulfilment in a new
Israel.

Stephen not only holds that the past history of
Israel was all a preparation for the future church,
but suggests that at each new stage it in some
manner foreshadowed it. The successive de-

STEPHEN 243

liverers whom God had sent were types of the
coming deliverer. The various resting-places to
which the people attained under their leadership
pointed forward to the ultimate rest. The out-
ward communion with God which Israel had en-
joyed by means of tabernacle and temple was
prophetic of a higher, spiritual relation. This
strain of typology that runs through the speech is
one of its most curious and perplexing features,
but we must be careful not to make too much of
it. At the most it is only incidental to the main
conception — that Israel, throughout its history,
was growing toward its realisation in the Chris-
tian church. Its past experience was full of an-
ticipations and presentiments of the Ecclesia in
which it would find its goal.

Stephen was brought to trial on the express
charge that he had blasphemed the temple.
The charge, according to Acts, was based on the
testimony of "false witnesses," but we have in-
dications in the extant speech that criticism of
the temple and its ritual formed an important
element in his teaching. His survey of the his-
tory of Israel leads up to the declaration that the
temple built by Solomon was only temporary
and provisional, for "the Most High dwelleth not
in temples made with hands." It is in this fea-
ture of Stephen's thought that we are probably to
detect that new influence which was introduced

244 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

into Christianity by the Hellenists. In the per-
secution that broke out after Stephen's death,
they alone seem to have been involved, and their
offence was no doubt the same as that which was
imputed to their leader. They had ventured to
call in question the cherished institutions of
Judaism. As yet they had no thought of attack-
ing the Law, but they had disputed the permanent
validity of the temple worship.

Among Hellenistic Jews the temple never oc-
cupied the same place as it did in the religious life
of Palestine. The pious Hellenist indeed regarded
it as the traditional shrine of his people, and con-
tributed his yearly offerings for the maintenance
of its ordinances. But his devotion was bound up
with the Law much more than with the temple.
As a citizen of the world he had learned to throw
off the narrow conception of his religion as a
local cult and secretly resented the claims of the
Jerusalem priesthood. After the destruction of
the temple it became the object of passionate re-
gret and longing, and the later literature of Judaism
is filled with lamentations over the house of God,
now violated by the heathen. But of this devo-
tion there is little trace in the century preceding.
Outside of Palestine, Judaism regarded the temple
with a certain jealousy and emphasised its right
to stand apart from it. Among the Hellenistic
converts there were no doubt some who were
already impatient of the temple, and their in-

STEPHEN 245

stinct of revolt would be strengthened by the
Christian teaching. Jesus had revived the old
prophetic conception of religion. He had made
it clear that the service of God did not consist
in sacrifices but in obedience to his will. He had
done away with that old covenant, bound up with
external ordinances and prerogatives of race, of
which the temple was the visible symbol. The
original disciples do not appear to have per-
ceived that the new beliefs could not be reconciled
with the temple worship, but the Hellenists were
alive to the inconsistency. They held that the
new community had entered into a higher re-
lation to God, for which the ancient localised
ritual had no significance. Apparently it was
Stephen who first gave clear expression to this
belief and enforced it by his martyrdom. But
we can gather from the persecution which im-
mediately overtook the Hellenistic Christians
that he had spoken as their representative.
Through these half-alien converts who had brought
to Jerusalem the influences of a larger culture
Christianity had begun to feel its way toward its
universal mission.

As yet the criticism of Jewish institutions was
directed solely against the temple. Concerning
the Law, which was the true substance of Judaism,
Stephen speaks with unabated reverence. It is
noticeable, however, that he departs altogether
from the attitude of Peter, whose speeches are

246 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

carefully framed so as to conciliate Jewish senti-
ment. He breaks out into an open attack on the
Jews. Their rejection of Jesus is no longer at-
tributed to "ignorance," but to a spirit of unbe-
lief which could be traced through all their past
history and had now reached its culmination.
This arraignment of the Jews brings us within
sight of the final rupture; but there is no ground
for asserting, with some historians, that Stephen
anticipated that breach with Judaism which was
effected by Paul. The invective at the close of
the speech is not a declaration of war any more
than the similar passages in the preaching of
the prophets and of John the Baptist. We should
probably find, if the lost conclusion could be re-
covered, that its purpose was to rouse the people
to a true repentance in view of the approaching
judgment. It was indeed Stephen who hastened
the conflict with Judaism and made the gentile
mission inevitable, but he stood himself within
the primitive community. This singular position
which he occupies gives him his chief significance
in early Christian history.

An interesting and difficult problem, of which
New Testament criticism has taken too little ac-
count, is suggested by the affinity of the speech of
Stephen to the so-called Epistle to the Hebrews.
Different as the two writings are in character and
style and purpose, they have at least the following

STEPHEN 247

well-marked features in common: (1) A typo-
logical value is discerned in the facts of the Old
Testament narrative. (2) The life of Israel is
described as one of wandering — in search of some-
thing real and permanent. (3) The failure to
enter into the promised "rest" is explained from
the unbelief of the people. (4) The contrast of
Christianity with the ancient religion turns on
ideas which are connected with the temple.
(5) Besides these main points of agreement, there
are similarities in detail; e. g., Moses appears as
a type of Christ; * emphasis is laid on the con-
struction of the tabernacle after a heavenly pat-
tern.f The explanation of this ajBBnity between
Hebrews and the speech of Stephen (which could
easily be demonstrated in greater detail) has been
sought in a common Alexandrian influence. If
this could be established we should have to regard
the speech as a comparatively late product, and
the question would then arise how this Alexan-
drian fragment, so little adapted to his purpose,
came to be introduced by Luke into his account
of the primitive history. But, apart from such
critical diflBculties, it may fairly be argued that
the speech is distinguished from the epistle by
the pronounced absence of the Alexandrian turn
of thought. Old Testament sayings and inci-

* Acts 7 : 37 ^.; Heb. 3:2^. This comparison is drawn
nowhere in the New Testament except in these two writings.
t Acts 7 :44; Heb. 8 : 5.

248 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

dents are not interpreted allegorically. The
temple is not contrasted with the higher ideal
sanctuary but with the universality of God's
presence. Jesus is not invested with the attri-
butes of the Logos, but is simply the Messianic
Deliverer.

It is not too bold to conjecture that the true
solution of the problem may be found along an-
other line. Instead of assuming that the speech
of Stephen is tinged with later philosophical
speculation, we may suppose that the Epistle to
the Hebrews, in spite of its Alexandrian colour-
ing, perpetuates a mode of thought which had
come down from the primitive church. The
enigmatical epistle is usually classed as Deutero-
Pauline, but there is hardly another New Testa-
ment writing which diverges so widely from the
cardinal Pauline ideas. What it possesses in
common with Paul may well have been derived
not from him but from that normal Christian
tradition on which he himself was dependent.
It needs to be more clearly recognised that, al-
though Paul with his mighty genius determined
the main current of Christian thinking, there were
other streams that maintained their course along-
side of Paulinism. One of these may have taken
its rise from the teaching of Stephen. As time
went on it would broaden and deepen and assimi-
late to itself elements from the prevailing phi-
losophy, while still preserving its continuity with

STEPHEN 249

Stephen and through him with the primitive
church.

The speech of Stephen, then, may reasonably
be considered as an authentic document of pri-
mary importance, which enables us in some mea-
sure to ascertain the bearings of Christian thought
at the close of the initial period. Traces of the
coming development are already discernible. The
church has been invaded by new forces which are
breaking down its alliance with Judaism and
moulding it for the task that lay before it in the
gentile world. But, in the main, the speech is
concerned with those ideas which we have seen, in
the course of our investigation, to have been char-
acteristic of the earliest days. To the mind of
Stephen everything depends on the claim of the
church to be the true Israel. God had made a
promise to his people, but the whole course of
Jewish history had proved that it was not in-
tended for Israel as a nation. The fulfilment was
reserved for a new community, springing out of
Israel but distinct from it; and the condition of
membership in the new community was faith in
that Jesus whom the nation had rejected. It is
not a little remarkable that Stephen hardly
touches on what we might consider the specific
elements of Christian belief. Nothing is directly
said of the purpose of Jesus' death, of his resur-
rection, of his Messianic office. He is described

250 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

simply as the "Just One" — the ideally righteous
man of whom the Old Testament leaders had been
the types and heralds. This apparent neglect of
the fundamental Christian ideas may be partly
set down to the controversial intention of the
speech. Stephen was not making a strictly mis-
sionary appeal, but was "disputing in the syna-
gogue/' and his object was to defend the Christian
position against orthodox Jews who would urge the
validity of God's promises to Israel. But the pe-
culiar line of argument which is followed in the
speech cannot be wholly accounted for by the
exigencies of controversy. We have to admit that
Stephen insists on the claim of the church to
be the true Israel because he regards this as the
central fact in the Christian message. God had
promised to the fathers that he would lead his
people to their inheritance, and the time was at
hand when this promise should be fulfilled. But
the people which he had contemplated was not
the nation. Within the historical Israel there
had ever been a hidden Israel of God; and it had
now realised its hope in that new community which
acknowledged Jesus as Lord.

LECTURE X

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY

With the persecution that ensued on the death
of Stephen the initial period of Christian history
came to an end. In itself the persecution was not
a severe one, for the council was limited in its
powers by the Roman administration and could
only enforce such minor penalties as scourging
and imprisonment. In the exercise even of this
modified right of discipline it seems to have pro-
ceeded cautiously. The fact was recognised that
Stephen had been the leader of the Hellenistic
Christians, and the action of the council affected
only this foreign section of the church. The
Apostles, who would have been the first victims
in any real attempt to suppress the new movement,
were left unmolested, and under their direction
the native Christian community continued to
hold its own at Jerusalem. None the less, the
persecution was followed by far-reaching conse-
quences. In the first place, the Hellenists, ex-
pelled from Palestine, took up their abode in
Damascus, Antioch, and other gentile cities, and
from this time onward these became the true cen-
tres of the propaganda. Again, the more advanced
251

252 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

type of Christianity for which the Hellenists had
stood was now set free from the checks that had
been imposed on it at Jerusalem. In the distant
gentile cities it was able to develop along its own
lines and was affected still further by influences
from without. Once more, the community that
remained at Jerusalem began to change its char-
acter, now that it was left wholly to itself. It is
probable that if the Hellenists had remained they
would gradually have leavened the Jewish section
of the church with their more liberal ideas, and
the long conflict which embittered the life of
Paul might have been unnecessary. As it was,
the church was powerless to resist the encroach-
ments of Judaism. Not only the removal of the
Hellenists, but the events that had caused it,
must have strengthened the tendency to reaction;
for it was now evident that Jewish sentiment was
alarmed. Any further advance might precipitate
that breach with the national religion which the
church, as a whole, was anxious to avert.

Thus after the death of Stephen the two sec-
tions of the church were separated, and, while the
Hellenists achieved a larger freedom, the original
community stood still or even went backward.
Hitherto, in spite of all external bonds with Juda-
ism, it had been absorbed in its own mission and
had worn its fetters lightly. Now it was bur-
dened with the feeling that at all costs it must
preserve its loyalty to the parent religion. This

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 253

relapse into a Jewish Christianity became far
more pronounced after the second persecution
under Herod Agrippa a few years later. This
second persecution was more serious than the
first, for it was supported by the power of the
state, now restored to a brief independence. It
was directed, too, not against a party but against
the new religion, which had at last been recognised
as dangerous. At least one of the Apostles was
put to death; the others were threatened with a
like fate, and only saved themselves by flight
from the city. Although the immediate peril was
soon brought to an end with the return to the old
political conditions, its effects on the Jerusalem
church appear to have been lasting. How it hap-
pened we can only conjecture, but there are clear
indications that during the enforced absence of
Peter and his colleagues a new party rose to
ascendancy. Under the leadership of James the
community at Jerusalem became more and more
Jewish in its sympathies, and took up an attitude
of ill-concealed antagonism to the progressive
church of the gentiles.

It by no means follows that the mother church
was now excluded from all share in the larger
work of Christianity. There is abundant evidence
that, in spite of all reactionary influences, it
maintained a vigorous life. Jerusalem became the
centre of an active and successful mission to the
outlying regions of Palestine, and in all likelihood

254 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

charged itself with a propaganda among various
communities of the Dispersion. In virtue of its
traditions, it exercised a powerful if undefined
authority over the Christian cause throughout
the world. The church at Jerusalem was the
ultimate court of appeal in all disputes concerning
worship and doctrine. Its practice was normative
in matters of ecclesiastical custom. The adver-
saries of Paul were chiefly formidable because they
professed to speak to the gentile converts with
the voice of Jerusalem. Paul himself, amidst
all differences, continued to cherish a genuine
reverence for the mother church. His last years
of freedom were largely devoted to his scheme of
a collection on behalf of its poorer members; and
behind the other motives which prompted him
to this work there may have been the idea of
confederating the scattered churches around their
natural centre. But although Jerusalem thus re-
mained the foremost Christian community and
only lost this position after the siege and destruc-
tion of the city, its real importance was confined
to the initial years. It was then that it made its
vital contribution, and the essential history of
the church was henceforth enacted on a different
stage.

That early contribution, however, was of in-
calculable value. In those first years the church
was brought into existence and grew to the
strength which enabled it to undertake its world-

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 255

wide task. In those years, too, the main beliefs
of Christianity were determined, its fundamental
institutions were created. The Ecclesia, as it took
shape at Jerusalem, became the model of all those
communities which in the course of the next cen-
tury were planted far and wide among the cities
of the Roman world. An endeavour has been
made in the preceding chapters to understand the
aims and teachings of that primitive church so
far as they can be ascertained in the dim light of
the later record. It only remains to gather up
the broad results of the investigation and to form
some estimate of their significance.

As we pass from the Gospels to the book of
Acts, we find it difiScult to realise that we are fol-
lowing a continued story — resumed at the point
where it had been interrupted. It is not merely
that the supreme figure of Jesus is now removed.
We feel as if his life had become distant and
unreal, and the cause to which he had devoted
himself had given place to another. It has been
generally assumed in modern criticism that the con-
tinuity of the movement was indeed broken by the
death of the Founder. In consequence of the great
disaster, his work had fallen into ruin and had
all to be reconstructed, slowly and tentatively,
on a fresh basis. What was now put forward as
the Christian gospel was derived, not from the
teaching of Jesus, but from a given interpretation

256 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

of his person and of the crowning facts of his
death and resurrection. His own gospel had been
direct and simple and had aimed at a renewal of
the moral life on the ground of a truer conception
of man's relation to God. This simple message
was now invested with mystery and was buried
under ever new layers of dogma and institution
until the religion of Jesus gave place to the
Catholic system of the centuries following.

Now, it may be granted that Jesus was con-
cerned, in the last resort, with a few great prin-
ciples, which were purely religious in their nature.
He revealed God as the Father, and taught that
the right attitude to him is one of trust and love.
He set forth in words and exemplified in his life
the true righteousness, which consists in inward,
spontaneous obedience to the will of God. These
were the vital elements in his message, and all
the rest was framework, existing for the sake of
them. Nevertheless, the message was given in
that framework. Those conceptions which we
can now recognise as permanent were mingled
with others which were borrowed from the thought
of the time and which appealed even more di-
rectly to the minds of the first disciples. In order
to determine the relation between the primitive
church and Jesus, we must take account not only
of the substance of his teaching but of those tra-
ditional forms under which it was presented.

We are here confronted with a problem which

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 257

is involved in manifold diflBculties and is perhaps
incapable of any final solution. The diflBculties,
however, are ctiefly connected with details of
interpretation, and these ought not to be empha-
sised in such a manner as to obscure certain broad
facts which stand out with suflBcient clearness
when we weigh the plain evidence of the Gospels.
Jesus attached his message to those apocalyptic
beliefs to which the preaching of John the Bap-
tist had now given a mighty impulse. The king-
dom of God — the new age in which the will of
God would absolutely prevail — was close at hand.
As heirs of this new age, God would acknowledge
not the children of Israel as a people but those
only who were morally worthy. Jesus, like John,
proclaimed the kingdom and called on men to
prepare themselves for its coming. He conceived
of it, we can scarcely doubt, as in the future — an
entirely new order which would be ushered in
suddenly and miraculously by the immediate act
of God. Yet the future and the present were
blended together in his mind. The kingdom was
so near that the approach of it could be felt al-
ready. Men could avail themselves of its powers;
they could so apprehend its higher law and con-
form their lives to it that they might become even
now the children of the new age. In the assur-
ance that the kingdom was all but come, Jesus
gathered around him a company of followers in
whom by word and example he sought to eflPect a

258 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

radical change of will. His purpose was that they
should form the nucleus of that new people, that
redeemed community, which God would set apart
for himself after his judgment of the world. It
is impossible to doubt that, at least in the later
part of his ministry, Jesus connected the coming
of the kingdom with his own personality. He
claimed to be himself the Messiah, or rather an-
ticipated that he would be raised to the Messiah-
ship when the kingdom was on the point of open-
ing. As he perceived his death at the hands of
his enemies to be inevitable, he saw in it the di-
vinely appointed means whereby he would accom-
plish his vocation. Offering himself for death, he
would become "a ransom for many" and thus
overcome all those hindrances on the part of men
which delayed the fulfilment of God's purpose.
In his death, too, he would break through the
limitations of his earthly life and rise to that Mes-
sianic glory in which he would presently return
to bring in the kingdom of God.

Such, in broad outline, were those conceptions
which Jesus took over from the thought of his
time and which formed the background of his
purely religious teaching. For us they have be-
come largely unintelligible. We construe them
in a vague spiritual sense or forget them alto-
gether in our concentration on the essential mes-
sage of which they were the setting. But to the
first disciples they were of paramount importance.

V

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 259

As pious Jews they had grown up amidst dreams
of the kingdom, and Jesus had now declared that
it was near; he had died to hasten its advent, he
had risen in power to transform it into a glorious
reality. For the earliest believers the message of
Jesus was inseparable from the apocalyptic hope,
and in this fact we have the key to the subsequent
history.

The church was created, if we look only to its
immediate origin, by the belief that Christ had
risen. How the disciples arrived at this belief
and in what form they held it we cannot tell,
but we know that they accepted it as the very
corner-stone of their faith. From this it has been
inferred that primitive Christianity was divorced,
at the outset, from the facts of the Gospel history.
A new and tremendous event had broken in and
had half obliterated the memory of past days,
even in the minds of Jesus' personal followers.
He was no longer the Friend and Master whom
they had known, but the exalted Messiah. His
actual deeds and purposes were forgotten in the
thought of his present glory and the work he
would now accomplish. But may it not be sug-
gested that precisely here we can discover the
root error of the usual modern interpretations of
the early history? They assume that the death
and resurrection were new and disturbing factors
which compelled his followers to reconstruct all

260 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

their previous ideas of Jesus. His teaching was
now of quite secondary value, for it had no light
to throw on those mysterious events in which
his life had culminated. But if we accept the
Gospel evidence — and on this point there is no
valid reason to doubt it — he had himself contem-
plated these events and had related them to his
message. In his later ministry he had foretold
them to his disciples, and had taught that they
were integral with his mission as a whole. It was
this, indeed, that gave significance to the resur-
rection, which would otherwise have been nothing
but a marvellous and inexplicable fact. It brought
to a focus the whole w^ork of Jesus. Instead of
obscuring that message of the kingdom which had
occupied him in his lifetime, it confirmed and il-
luminated it and filled it with new meaning.

From this point of view we can understand how
the church was the outcome of the belief in the
resurrection. Jesus had taught that the kingdom
was at hand, that he himself was the destined
Messiah who would bring it in, that through death
he would be exalted to his Messianic oflBce. The
resurrection was evidence to the disciples that all
had happened as he had foretold. He had now
attained to the Messiahship; yet a little time and
he would return in power to inaugurate the king-
dom. But for the followers of Jesus this coming
of the kingdom was fraught with a special sig-
nificance. He had promised them a part in the

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 261

great future, and the knowledge that he had
risen, confirming as it did his message of the king-
dom, filled them with an absorbing consciousness
of their own vocation. The new age was at hand,
and they had been chosen to possess it. By this
very fact they were withdrawn from the old
order and were consecrated as a people by them-
selves— the new community of the kingdom. The
belief in the resurrection thus issued of its own
accord in the formation of the church.

One point has here been touched on which it
may be necessary to emphasise a little further.
The assumption is generally made, by writers on
the apostolic age, that the church came into
existence by a gradual process. First of all, the
belief that Jesus had risen impressed itself on a
number of his followers, and they were thus won
to the conviction that he was, indeed, the Messiah.
To support one another in their common faith
they formed themselves into a society which by
degrees became more highly organised and adopted
certain customs and institutions. In the course
of time the interests of Christian men were more
and more involved in the society until at last it
acquired a religious significance of its own. But
this account of the origin of the church is not
borne out by the historical facts. From the very
beginning, so far as we can gather from our
records, the believers were all united in a

262 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

brotherhood. Their union with one another did
not come about gradually through the faith they
held in common, but was essentially bound up
with it. Faith in Christ, by its very nature, im-
plied a connection with the brotherhood. This
intimate relation of personal faith and fellowship
with the brethren was pointedly expressed in the
rite of baptism, wherein the convert made solemn
confession of his belief in Jesus and by so doing
was constituted a member of the community. The
Christian mission itself bears witness to this
interrelation of faith and the idea of the church.
The missionaries were not independent teachers
intent solely on awakening conviction in many
individual minds. They were emissaries of the
church working in its name and for its interest.
Wherever they went they sought to create a
living portion of the Ecclesia. Their converts
might be only a handful, gathering for worship in
the room of a private house, but they were taught
to regard themselves as the church in that house
— the Ecclesia in miniature. To the early Chris-
tian mind a purely individual faith seems to have
been unthinkable. So far from developing grad-
ually by a historical process, the church was a
primary fact in Christianity. All that was per-
sonal in the faith and lives of the believers was
rooted in a communal consciousness.

This mood will become more intelligible if two
considerations are borne in mind. On the one

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 263

hand, our religion grew up under the conditions
of ancient thought, in which the individual had
not yet come to his own. It is true that Chris-
tianity secured a new value for the individual.
Jesus had declared, in many a memorable saying,
that all men stand in a personal relation to God
and that his providence takes account of them
one by one. None the less, it was impossible all
at once to liberate this new conception from the
collectivism which was instinctive to the ancient
mind. For the Jews, more especially, the tribal
idea had won its way into the very substance of
religion. The object of God's choice had been
Israel as a people, and individual Israelites had
access to him as members of the chosen nation.
On the other hand — and this was the decisive
factor in early Christian thought — Jesus himself,
with all his insistence on the worth of the individ-
ual, had kept before him the idea of a redeemed
community. He had proclaimed the new age in
which God would be served by a people wrought
into harmony with his will. He had formed his
disciples into a brotherhood, thinking and work-
ing together, that they might be the nucleus of
that community of the future. When they were
assured, therefore, by their visions of the risen
Jesus that he had now entered on his Messiah-
ship their faith in him was inseparable from the
sense of their common vocation. He had called
them to be the new people of God. They were

264 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

members of one body and were conscious, in-
dividually, of a higher life through their union
with one another.

The church of the first days must not, indeed, be
confounded with that of later Christian history.
It was not an organisation equipped for a def-
inite task in this world, but the brotherhood of
those who had identified themselves with the age
to come. Jesus had himself declared that the old
social order, with its outward rules and author-
ities, would presently disappear and would give
place to another in which the will of God would be
all in all. His disciples sought to anticipate this
future order. They acknowledged no forms of
government or stated officers; they held all things
in common; they were bound together by no
visible and artificial ties. The idea of building
up a great institution, such as the church became
in a subsequent age, was utterly foreign to their
minds. They were simply the new community
maintaining itself for a little while under earthly
conditions until the kingdom should break in.

The nature of the Christian society is defined
in its name "the Ecclesia," a name which has a
twofold significance, (a) It denoted the true
Israel to which had descended the calling and
the privileges of God^s chosen people. A dis-
tinction had long ago been drawn by the prophets
between the nation as a whole and the "remnant"
— the true servants of God who, in his sight, were

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 265

the nation. The church conceived itself to be the
"remnant" and laid claim on this ground to a
continuity with the ancient Israel. In one sense
it was no new creation but had existed ever since
God had first chosen for himself a people. When
the kingdom arrived the faithful of the past would
be raised to life again and would form one com-
munity with the believers in Christ. This con-
ception of an Israel of God with which the church
was continuous was of cardinal importance in the
earliest Christian thought; for only by means of
it could the church establish its right in the Old
Testament promises. The disciples had broken
with Jewish nationalism and the religion of the
Law had become meaningless to them; yet they
shrank from the inevitable separation. A feeling
persisted that the new Israel derived its prerog-
ative through the actual Israel and might forfeit
its title if it freed itself entirely from the Law.

(6) But while it was the true Israel the church
was also the community of the kingdom. It was
continuous with the Ecclesia of the past; but now
that Jesus had risen to his Messiahship all things
had become different. The inheritance which was
formerly the object of hope and longing had drawn
near, and the church was entering into it. Iden-
tified as it was with the new order, there was
something supernatural in its character. It was
endowed with higher attributes and was con-
scious of a divine power inspiring and controlling

266 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

it. This consciousness found expression in the
doctrine of the Spirit which coloured all the
thought and life of primitive Christianity. A
belief had been current, ever since the time of the
prophets, that when the new age arrived a power
from on high, corresponding with their new
status, would be poured out on God's people. In
former times it had been imparted at rare inter-
vals to chosen individuals, but in the latter days
it would be shared by the whole community. By
means of it men would be brought to a closer re-
lation to God, to a fuller knowledge of him, to
the exercise of higher gifts and activities. The
church was assured that it had now received this
Spirit. Its operation was discerned in the strange
phenomena that manifested themselves in Chris-
tian worship; but these were regarded as only the
index of a new energy pervading the Christian life.
The Spirit, present in the believer, transformed
his entire nature and impressed a new character
on all his action. And though its gifts were mani-
fold and were bestowed in varying measure, all
had received their part in them. In the last resort
the Spirit was the possession not of individual
men but of the whole church. It was like the
vital principle diffused through the body, and
quickening the different members because of their
union with the body. Underlying the doctrine of
the Spirit we can discover that communal con-
sciousness in which all primitive Christian think-

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 267

ing was involved. The individual believers were
bound up with the church. They claimed to
possess the Spirit in so far as they belonged to
the spiritual community which God had chosen
for his kingdom.

There is no ground, then, for the hypothesis,
often assumed as self-evident, that after the death
of Jesus his message was practically forgotten and
he himself became the one interest of faith. It
may be gathered, rather, that personal devotion
to Jesus was a later development. At the outset
the disciples were absorbed in the hope of the
kingdom which he had foretold, and out of that
hope the church was born. But while the message
of Jesus was thus primary, it was connected in-
separably with Jesus himself. The more it was
cherished, the more clearly he stood out in his own
person as the centre and foundation of the Chris-
tian life. (1) A new value revealed itself even in
his earthly ministry. He had proclaimed the
kingdom and had set forth its nature and the re-
quirements of its moral order. For the disciples
his teaching was now authoritative. Their expec-
tation of the kingdom, instead of making them for-
getful of the life of Jesus, served only to enhance
its significance. He was the prophet of the way —
the teacher of the new righteousness. A duty was
laid on all who sought the kingdom to keep his
words and example ever before them, for thus

268 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

alone could they conform their lives to that
higher law which would obtain hereafter. We
mistake the whole character of early Christian-
ity if we forget that the mood of enthusiasm was
accompanied by a conscious imitation of Jesus.
This practical obedience to him was nothing, in-
deed, but the other side of the apocalyptic hope.
(2) In the knowledge that he was now clothed with
power his followers had the assurance that the
kingdom was at hand and that they 'were des-
tined to have part in it. The belief in Jesus'
Messiahship was thus the keystone of the entire
structure of Christianity. Faith directed itself
to him, for apart from him there could be no hope
of the kingdom, no Ecclesia, no participation in
the Spirit. (3) His Parousia was to give the'^sig-
nal for the final consummation. Although the
inheritance was certain, it was still in the future
and could not be fully realised until Jesus re-
turned to fulfil his work. Thus the hope of the
kingdom resolved itself into a waiting for the ap-
pearance of Christ. This was the habitual mood
of the believer, and out of it grew the feeling that
the Christian life was incorporated with Christ
and could only attain its fruition through him.
"Ye are dead,'* says Paul, "and your life is hid
with Christ in God. When Christ who is our life
shall appear, then we also shall appear with him
in glory." *

* Col. 3 : 3, 4.

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 269

This central position assigned to Jesus was
marked by the title KvpLo<;, which seems even in
the earliest days to have displaced that of Mes-
siah. It has to be understood primarily as con-
noting the relation of Jesus to the church. The
world at large had no portion in him and could
never know him except as judge, but the church
was his own community within which he reigned.
To invoke him by the name of Lord was evidence
that you belonged to his people and partook in
their privileges and obligations. The initiatory
rite of baptism was sealed by the confession,
"Jesus is Lord." By the act of making that con-
fession a man severed himself from the old order
and became one with the new community of the
kingdom. But this entrance into the community
involved a personal relation to Jesus. Acknowl-
edging him as Lord, you subjected yourself to his
will and gave your life into his keeping and were
conscious of his abiding fellowship. Faith in
Jesus was much more than the bare recognition
of his claim to be the Messiah. To the primitive
church, as to Paul, it was the decisive factor in
Christianity; for it signified a changed attitude
of the will — a new direction given to the whole
life. The belief in Jesus was inseparable from that
entire surrender to him which was implied in the
confession, "Jesus is Lord."

More than once in the New Testament the mem-
bers of the church are described by the peculiar

270 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

name, "those who call upon the name of the
Lord " (ot iTTLKokovfievoL to ovofia rod KvpCov)* The
Greek word here employed seems to suggest the
practice of actual prayer to Jesus, and some have
inferred that even in the earliest period he was
regarded as a divine being. If this were so, it
would be necessary to suppose that Christianity
was affected from the outset by some alien influ-
ence, for within the pale of Jewish monotheism
such an encroachment on the prerogative of God
is hardly conceivable. It may be questioned,
however, whether the evidence for prayer to
Jesus has not been overpressed by modern
writers anxious to discover a foreign element in
even the earliest Christian worship. That the
regular custom was to address prayer directly to
God is attested by numberless passages in the
Acts and Epistles. The only clear exceptions
are the dying words of Stephen, "Lord Jesus, re-
ceive my spirit," f and the pathetic allusion of
Paul to his thorn in the flesh : " For this thing I
besought the Lord thrice that it might depart
from me." % In neither case do we seem to have
reference to actual prayer. His disciples address
themselves to Jesus, not because they think of him
as another God, but because they realise so in-
tensely his living presence. They know him as
the Friend and Protector with whom they can

* Romans 10 : 12; 10 : 13; I Cor. 1 : 2.

t Acts 7: 59. J II Cor. 12 : 8.

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 271

hold converse, and to whom they instinctively
appeal in the hour of need. It is surely beside
the mark to detect theological motives and anal-
ogies with heathen custom in those colloquies
with the risen Jesus which were natural to the en-
thusiastic piety of the early days. What, then,
was the nature of that "calling on the name of
Jesus" which was the characteristic mark of be-
lievers? Perhaps the true explanation is to be
sought in one or two passages which connect it
more definitely with the rite of baptism.* The
rite was accompanied with the confession, " Jesus
is Lord,'' and by so confessing him the convert
surrendered himself to Jesus and was brought
under his power and guardianship. He was
henceforth one of the elect community with the
right to address Jesus as "Lord." His confession
of that "name" was itself an invocation, insuring
that in all prayer which he might offer he would
have an advocate with the Father.

If the results of our inquiry have been sub-
stantially correct the ordinary estimate of the be-
ginnings of Christianity stands in need of con-
siderable revision. It may be well to indicate
briefly the more important points in which a
modification of this kind seems to be necessary.
(1) There is no sharp line of division, such as is
usually drawn, between the teaching of Jesus
* Romans 10 : 12, 13.

272 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

and that of the primitive church. The movement
initiated by Jesus was continued by his disciples.
His own death, so far from arresting it or turning
it in a new direction, served only to give it a fresh
impetus along the path which he had himself
marked out for it. (2) A fuller account must be
taken of that apocalyptic atmosphere which was
vital to early Christianity. All writers are now
agreed that the disciples lived in the daily expec-
tation of the Parousia, but they hardly attempt
to realise the significance of that fact. They
think of the church, in the first ardour of its tre-
mendous hope, as nothing but an obscure religious
society painfully struggling for a foothold. But
we have to look not so much at the mere outward
conditions of the church as at the consciousness
that inspired it. Those followers of Jesus, in their
unnoticed gatherings, were filled with the confi-
dence of a great destiny. They believed that they
would presently inherit the new age and that a
supernatural power was already working in them.
We cannot understand the primitive history un-
less we thus read it from within in the light of the
apocalyptic hope. (3) The church began not as a
collection of individuals united in the same faith
but as a community. As in the former age God
had chosen for himself a people, so in his kingdom
he would ordain a people to serve him. It had
been the aim of Jesus to gather around him this
brotherhood of the future, and after his death his

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 273

disciples held fast to the communal idea. They
constituted the true Israel, which would possess
the new age at the Lord's coming. The powers
and privileges to which they laid claim belonged
to them as a body and were bestowed on the in-
dividual believer in so far as he was a member of
the body. In the process of time the church
hardened into an institution framed and admin-
istered like any earthly society, and the doctrine
that outside of it there could be no salvation
tended to warp and pervert the original Chris-
tian teaching. But the doctrine in itself was no
perversion. From the beginning the Christian
faith was identified with a community into which
men required to be adopted before they could
participate in the kingdom of God. (4) Not-
withstanding its intimate relation with the parent
religion, there never was a time when the church
was a mere sect of Judaism. Assured of its great
calling, it felt itself to transcend the nation. It
claimed to be the true Israel in which the age-
long travail of the nation had reached fulfilment.
Outwardly, it is true, the disciples remained faith-
ful to the Law, but they regarded it as secondary
and non-essential. They were conscious, long
before the days of Paul, that they stood for a new
conception of religion which had little in common
with the reigning Judaism. It is significant that
of the recorded sayings of Jesus so many are di-
rected against the scribes and Pharisees, the

274 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

acknowledged representatives of the Law. The
church that treasured these sayings had already
grown critical of the Law, and the final break
with it was only a matter of time. (5) From the
primitive community at Jerusalem the new re-
ligion derived its essential beliefs and went forth
with them on its gentile mission. There has been
a tendency in recent years to lay increasing em-
phasis on the gentile contribution. According to
not a few modern writers, historical Christianity
was almost wholly the product of alien forces
working on a bare nucleus which was afforded by
the faith in Jesus. Now, it cannot be denied that
our religion underwent profound modifications
when it was brought into contact with gentile
thought. It was translated out of the language
of Jewish apocalyptic into that of Hellenistic
speculation, and the change of form in large mea-
sure affected its substance. But the main function
of the new influences was to interpret and eluci-
date what was already given. Behind all the
later developments we can discern with suflBcient
clearness those cardinal beliefs which had come
down from the primitive Apostles and ultimately
from Jesus himself. (6) It would be misleading
to speak of a primitive theology, yet the earliest
Christian teaching was far richer in its content
than is generally assumed. The belief that Jesus
was the Messiah, which is sometimes described
as the one distinctive belief of the first disciples,

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 275

itself involved a complete recasting of traditional
Judaism. It was bound up with a whole com-
plex of new ideas which found their place along
with it in Christian faith. In the earliest think-
ing of the church, although it is known to us in
such meagre outline, we can discover the roots
of almost all the conceptions which grew to
maturity in the century following. There is no
evidence that Peter and his companions were
men of exceptional religious genius, and in many
respects their horizon was a very limited one.
But they came in the opening years when the
new life of the Spirit was at its flood. They
were able to realise their gospel in something of
its breadth and fulness and to anticipate, at least
in glimpses, the results of the time to come.

The chief share in the creating of a theology
out of the intuitions of primitive Christian faith
was reserved for the Apostle Paul. His relation
to the earlier teaching is a vast and intricate
subject which could not be adequately discussed
without a detailed analysis of his thought in all
its manifold aspects and affinities. For such an
analysis, even if it lay within the scope of the
present investigation, the data are not yet avail-
able. We need a fuller and more accurate knowl-
edge of Paul's debt to Rabbinism, to Greek
philosophy, to Oriental religion before we can
sift out those elements in his teaching which he
drew from the native Christian tradition. But

276 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

our inquiry has tended to confirm the conviction,
which seems to be growing among New Testa-
ment scholars, that Paul is not to be regarded as
an innovator, much less as " the second founder of
Christianity.'' It has to be remembered that he
began his work in close alliance with the Jerusa-
lem church and that Barnabas, one of the lead-
ers of that church, was his fellow labourer. For
at least fourteen years no serious exception was
taken to his teaching. Again and again in his
Epistles he manifests his anxiety to keep in line
with the accepted tradition, and indignantly
spurns the possibility that there may be "an-
other gospel." He claims that what had come to
him "by revelation" in no way contradicts the
message that had been preached by the elder
Apostles. In one sense it is true that Paul was
a creator. He had been drawn to Christianity
through a unique experience, and brought to its
service the endowment of a supreme religious
thinker. On everything that he touched he left
his individual impress and unconsciously turned
the whole stream of Christian thought into new
channels. But his work, as it appeared to his
own mind, was that of expounding and interpret-
ing, and we have no fair reason to doubt that he
judged of himself truly. At not a few points his
dependence on the tradition is certain, and we
should probably find, if our knowledge extended
far enough, that he is building almost everywhere

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 277

on something that had been given him. It is, in-
deed, futile to maintain, as some have done, that
Paul was nothing but a docile missionary who
faithfully reproduced what he had received. The
teaching of the church, transmitting itself through
his great personality, could not but undergo a
change and enrichment. But it is equally false
to conceive of Paul as displacing or subverting
the earlier Christianity. We ought rather to
think of him as its armed soldier through whom
it came to its own. He furnished it with new
categories whereby it could ally itself with the
larger intellectual movement of the age. He
broke the bond with Judaism which had pre-
vented it from fully asserting its inherent prin-
ciples. He construed as reasoned doctrine the
beliefs which had rested hitherto on the surmise
of faith. Without Paul Christianity could hardly
have achieved its victory; but the gospel which
he transformed into a world-conquering power had
in substance been given to him by the obscure
church of the early days.

Paul was the heir of the primitive tradition,
and this, in turn, was the immediate outcome of
the work of Jesus. It has too often been assumed
— and the modern reading of Christian history
has been largely controlled by this assumption —
that our religion was separated at the very outset
from its Founder. In the disaster that overtook

278 THE BEGINNINGS OF THE CHURCH

him his message also perished, and his name was
employed henceforth to cover a new movement
which he himself had never contemplated. But
historical Christianity, as we have tried to show,
cannot thus be sundered from the work of Jesus.
His disciples took up his message of the kingdom
and gave it embodiment in the beliefs and in-
stitutions of the church. They apprehended it
in the apocalyptic forms under which he had pro-
claimed it, but within this framework they pre-
served its essential meaning. They associated
the coming of the kingdom with a closer relation
to God, a higher righteousness, a divine Spirit
renewing the lives of men. And as the teaching
of the church grew out of the work of Jesus, so
did the church itself. He had conceived of the
people of the kingdom as forming a new commu-
nity bound together in mutual love and service,
and had called his disciples as the first-fruits of
this future brotherhood. After his death they
maintained their fellowship. Their individual
faith was grounded in the sense of a common in-
heritance in that kingdom which he was pres-
ently to inaugurate. The church of a later time,
with its discipline and hierarchies, bore little re-
semblance to this brotherhood of the first days,
yet it rose out of it by a natural development
and has never entirely forgotten its origin. At
the heart of it there has ever persisted the idea
that it is the communion of God's people, sepa-

THE EARLIEST CHRISTIANITY 279

rated from the world and waiting for the fulfil-
ment of the higher order. It would be mournful
to think that the purpose of Jesus was frustrated
at the beginning and that the whole labour of the
Christian ages has rested on a misconception.
From our study of the initial period we may con-
clude that such a theory is historically false.
There was no gulf between Jesus and the church
that followed him. His work was continued by
those who had understood his message and who
built on the foundation which he himself had laid.

INDEX

Acts, plan op, 6
Acts, sources of, 23
Adonis, 95
Agape, 199
Ananias, 138, 140
Antioch, dispute at, 120
Apostles, 147/.
Apostles' creed, 180
Appearances of Jesus, 9^., 159
Aramaic, 98

Bacon, 226, 239
Baptism, 162 J'.
Barnabas, 131, 138, 140
BatifPol, 35
Beatitudes, 155
Behm, 215
Believers, 106
Breaking of bread, 198
Brotherhood, 133 /., 184
Brotherly love, 135
Bruckner, 91

CiESAR-WORSHIP, 96

Camisards, 73
Circumcision, 186
Community, the new, 42^.,

77, 105 and passim
Community of goods, 137/.
Confession, baptismal, 98,

105, 180/., 269
Cornelius, 188
Council, Jewish, 117, 233

Daniel, book of, 47
Deissmann, 214
Diatheke, 214/.
Dibelius, 214
Didache, 155, 175, 209
Disciples, 29
Dispersion, 119

281

Ecclesia, 29#., 113, 241, 264

and passim
Ephesians, epistle to, 45
Equahty, gospel of, 139
Essenes, 118, 136, 166
Exorcism, 178

Faith, 106, 122, 130

Gamaliel, 117
Gfrorer, 238
Glossolalia, 60 /., 71
Government of the church,
144/.

Hatch, 32

Hebrews, epistle to, 39, 248
Heitmiiller, 175, 201, 207
Hellenists, 228, 244
Herod Agrippa, 120, 253

Instruction, 156/.
Interim ethic, 153
Irvingite movement, 73
Isaiah, 66
Israel, 36 #., 114,263

James, 104, 149, 253
James, epistle of, 5, 39
Jerusalem, council of, 124 J'.
Jerusalem, settlement at, 20,

136
Joel, 65

Johannine writings, 164, 232
John the Baptist, 94, 129, 167
Judaists, 122

Kingdom op God, 42/., 69, 88

Law, 40, 115 #.

Life of Jesus, 92

282

INDEX

Logos, 88
Lombard, 73
Lord, Jesus as, 84 ff.^ 185
Lord's Prayer, 153
Lord's Supper, 88, 104, 159,
192 #.

Magic, 178

Maranatha, 98

Matthew, gospel of, 31, 51

Matthias, 22

Maurenbrecher, 99

Messianic banquet, 208

Messianic doctrine, 14/., 18,

88/., 257/.
Millennium, 103
Miracles, 68
Mithra, 95
Morahty, 92
Mosiman, 73
Mysteries, 163
Mysticism, 13

Name op Jesus, 174/.
New birth, 187
New commandment, 135
New law, 48, 159

Oriental cults, 14, 67, 96,
101

Palestinian church, 139
Papyri, 95, 176
Parousia, 159, 268
Passover meal, 196, 204 /.
Paul, 2, 3, 7, 12, 86, 90, and

passim
Pentecost, 58 /., 165
Peter, 120, 145, 148/.
Peter, epistles of, 6
Peter, promise to, 51
Peter, speeches of, 16, 38, 87,

97, 110, 113
PhiHp, 231
Philo, 61, 118
Prayer to Jesus, 270

Prophecy, 64

Proselytes, baptism of, 166

Qahal, 32

Reign op Messiah, 102
Remnant, 37, 47, 103, 129,

265
Renunciation, 144
Repentance, 173
Resurrection, 9 ff.
Revelation, book of, 103
RevUle, 201, 214

Sacred meal, 193

Saints, 36

Sayings of Jesus, 157/.

Schumacher, 239

Schiirer, 34

Seeberg, 154

Serapis, 95

Sermon on the Mount, 159

Sohm, 32

Son of man, 237

Spirit, doctrine of, 62^., 130,

146, 266
Spirit, gift of, 57 ff., 187
Spiritual phenomena, 58 /.
Spitta, 20, 201, 238
Stephen, 27, 117, 224 #.
Stoning, 233
Synagogue, 32

Teaching of Jesus, 152
Temple, 21, 240/.
Tradition, primitive, 97
Twelve, the, 145 /.

Universality op gospel, 52

VoLz, 62

Way, the, 151
Wealth and poverty, 139
Weiss, 207
Wellhausen, 207
Wrede, 91

Date Due