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John the Baptist in History and Theology
An analysis that challenges the conventional Christian hierarchy of John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth
While the Christian tradition has subordinated John the Baptist to Jesus of Nazareth, John himself would likely have disagreed with that ranking. In this eye-opening new book, John the Baptist in History and Theology, Joel Marcus makes a powerful case that John saw himself, not Jesus, as the proclaimer and initiator of the kingdom of God and his own ministry as the center of God's saving action in history.
Although the Fourth Gospel has the Baptist saying, "He must increase, but I must decrease," Marcus contends that this and other biblical and extrabiblical evidence reveal a continuing competition between the two men that early Christians sought to muffle. Like Jesus, John was an apocalyptic prophet who looked forward to the imminent end of the world and the establishment of God's rule on earth. Originally a member of the Dead Sea Sect, an apocalyptic community within Judaism, John broke with the group over his growing conviction that he himself was Elijah, the end-time prophet who would inaugurate God's kingdom on earth. Through his ministry of baptism, he ushered all who came to him—Jews and non-Jews alike—into this dawning new age. Jesus began his career as a follower of the Baptist, but, like other successor figures in religious history, he parted ways from his predecessor as he became convinced of his own centrality in God's purposes. Meanwhile John's mass following and apocalyptic message became political threats to Herod Antipas, who had John executed to abort any revolutionary movement.
Based on close critical-historical readings of early texts—including the accounts of John in the Gospels and in Josephus's Antiquities—as well as parallels from later religious movements, John the Baptist in History and Theology situates the Baptist within Second Temple Judaism and compares him to other apocalyptic thinkers from ancient and modern times. It concludes with thoughtful reflections on how its revisionist interpretations might be incorporated into the Christian faith.
While the Christian tradition has subordinated John the Baptist to Jesus of Nazareth, John himself would likely have disagreed with that ranking. In this eye-opening new book, John the Baptist in History and Theology, Joel Marcus makes a powerful case that John saw himself, not Jesus, as the proclaimer and initiator of the kingdom of God and his own ministry as the center of God's saving action in history.
Although the Fourth Gospel has the Baptist saying, "He must increase, but I must decrease," Marcus contends that this and other biblical and extrabiblical evidence reveal a continuing competition between the two men that early Christians sought to muffle. Like Jesus, John was an apocalyptic prophet who looked forward to the imminent end of the world and the establishment of God's rule on earth. Originally a member of the Dead Sea Sect, an apocalyptic community within Judaism, John broke with the group over his growing conviction that he himself was Elijah, the end-time prophet who would inaugurate God's kingdom on earth. Through his ministry of baptism, he ushered all who came to him—Jews and non-Jews alike—into this dawning new age. Jesus began his career as a follower of the Baptist, but, like other successor figures in religious history, he parted ways from his predecessor as he became convinced of his own centrality in God's purposes. Meanwhile John's mass following and apocalyptic message became political threats to Herod Antipas, who had John executed to abort any revolutionary movement.
Based on close critical-historical readings of early texts—including the accounts of John in the Gospels and in Josephus's Antiquities—as well as parallels from later religious movements, John the Baptist in History and Theology situates the Baptist within Second Temple Judaism and compares him to other apocalyptic thinkers from ancient and modern times. It concludes with thoughtful reflections on how its revisionist interpretations might be incorporated into the Christian faith.
280 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 16, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
September 30, 2024
Drawing from the Dead Sea Scrolls, Josephus, the Pseudo-Clementine literature, and the ambivalences of the New Testament itself, Joel Marcus argues that, contrary to the assertion of some of the Gospel material, John did not see himself merely as a precursor to Jesus, but rather as a figure of central apocalyptic significance in his own right. An erstwhile member of the Qumran sect (or perhaps a closely-adjacent group), John struck out on his own due both to his dissatisfaction with the insularity of Qumran—adapting their ritual baptism of purification, forgiveness of sins, and preparation for the eschatological fire that would destroy everything contaminated by the powers of the present world and inaugurate the messianic age, into a one-time offering for the entire nation of Israel, as well as for gentiles who elected to join the fold—and to an emerging conviction that he himself was the “second coming” of Elijah, who was to midwife the spiritual community of this dawning era. That John baptized Jesus, thereby inducting him into his movement as a disciple, is one of the few details of the latter’s life which is universally accepted by critical scholarship as historically reliable, owing mainly to the problems this created for the early Christian movement, which sought to elevate the stature of Jesus over that of John.
Jesus began his prophetic “career” as a follower of John, but later branched out with his own independent ministry just as John himself had done. The Baptist and Christian movements never completely merged; a fact attested by the fourth gospel’s depiction of John and Jesus baptizing concurrently (Jn 3:22-23)—before an apparent redaction hastily insisted that only the followers of Jesus did so (Jn 4:2)—and in a passage from the Acts of the Apostles, in which Paul encounters a community in Ephesus who only know the baptism of John (Acts 19:1-7). The Gospels treat John positively, but progressively downgrade his significance vis-à-vis Jesus. The synoptics identify him with Elijah, and Jesus even lauds him as “more than a prophet," claiming that no one born of a woman is greater than him (Lk 7:26-28, Mt 11:9-11). John’s Gospel takes a more contrary tone, asserting from the outset that the Baptist is not the logos, not the light, and not Elijah, but one who must “decrease” while Jesus “increases”; all presumably in response to a continuing movement of people who believed more-or-less the opposite. Initially, the Christians saw the Baptists as fellow-travelers who could be won over to their cause, but the two camps likely took an increasingly militant attitude towards one another after the deaths of their respective figureheads. Some of the writings of the Mandeans—a sect that likely originated near the Dead Sea, where John did his preaching, and which was driven from that region to Iraq, where it has survived to the present day—exhibit a deep antipathy towards Jesus, which their forebears probably acquired through contact with the later Baptist movement.
Nonetheless, it’s unlikely that the New Testament would have spoken of John so glowingly if his relationship with Jesus was not broadly cooperative. The account found in Matthew and Luke (likely derived from Q) of the imprisoned John sending messengers to Jesus to inquire whether he is “the coming one” suggests that, despite the baptism narratives, John was never quite convinced that Jesus was the Messiah; and Jesus’s ambiguous response lends historical credibility to the episode. But neither would John have seen Jesus as just another disciple. Marcus suggests that if John identified himself with Elijah, he likely saw Jesus as an Elishianic figure: a worthy successor and an inheritor of his own spiritual gifts. It’s not impossible that John even came to believe that Jesus was destined to supersede him: after all, Elisha had the boldness to ask for a “double portion” of Elijah’s spirit.
Like many apocalyptic-charismatic movements—Marcus references the medieval millenarians and the radical reformers—John’s had a sharp political edge. The coming of the Kingdom of God meant the overthrow of the ruling authorities; and as both Josephus and the synoptic Gospels attest, Herod Antipas was alarmed at the radicalism of John’s message and his immense popularity with the common people. The synoptic account of the dancing Salome is probably fanciful, but the attribution of John’s murder to his condemnation of Herod’s marriage to Herodias is entirely credible because the marriage was a political wedge issue as well as a moral offense. In order to marry Herodias, Herod had to divorce the daughter of Aretas IV, king of the Nabateans, a non-Jewish people who lived in close proximity to John’s growing sphere of influence. John’s stance would have appealed to both Jews and Nabateans, making him an intolerable political threat—at least in the eyes of a tin-pot tyrant.
Jesus began his prophetic “career” as a follower of John, but later branched out with his own independent ministry just as John himself had done. The Baptist and Christian movements never completely merged; a fact attested by the fourth gospel’s depiction of John and Jesus baptizing concurrently (Jn 3:22-23)—before an apparent redaction hastily insisted that only the followers of Jesus did so (Jn 4:2)—and in a passage from the Acts of the Apostles, in which Paul encounters a community in Ephesus who only know the baptism of John (Acts 19:1-7). The Gospels treat John positively, but progressively downgrade his significance vis-à-vis Jesus. The synoptics identify him with Elijah, and Jesus even lauds him as “more than a prophet," claiming that no one born of a woman is greater than him (Lk 7:26-28, Mt 11:9-11). John’s Gospel takes a more contrary tone, asserting from the outset that the Baptist is not the logos, not the light, and not Elijah, but one who must “decrease” while Jesus “increases”; all presumably in response to a continuing movement of people who believed more-or-less the opposite. Initially, the Christians saw the Baptists as fellow-travelers who could be won over to their cause, but the two camps likely took an increasingly militant attitude towards one another after the deaths of their respective figureheads. Some of the writings of the Mandeans—a sect that likely originated near the Dead Sea, where John did his preaching, and which was driven from that region to Iraq, where it has survived to the present day—exhibit a deep antipathy towards Jesus, which their forebears probably acquired through contact with the later Baptist movement.
Nonetheless, it’s unlikely that the New Testament would have spoken of John so glowingly if his relationship with Jesus was not broadly cooperative. The account found in Matthew and Luke (likely derived from Q) of the imprisoned John sending messengers to Jesus to inquire whether he is “the coming one” suggests that, despite the baptism narratives, John was never quite convinced that Jesus was the Messiah; and Jesus’s ambiguous response lends historical credibility to the episode. But neither would John have seen Jesus as just another disciple. Marcus suggests that if John identified himself with Elijah, he likely saw Jesus as an Elishianic figure: a worthy successor and an inheritor of his own spiritual gifts. It’s not impossible that John even came to believe that Jesus was destined to supersede him: after all, Elisha had the boldness to ask for a “double portion” of Elijah’s spirit.
Like many apocalyptic-charismatic movements—Marcus references the medieval millenarians and the radical reformers—John’s had a sharp political edge. The coming of the Kingdom of God meant the overthrow of the ruling authorities; and as both Josephus and the synoptic Gospels attest, Herod Antipas was alarmed at the radicalism of John’s message and his immense popularity with the common people. The synoptic account of the dancing Salome is probably fanciful, but the attribution of John’s murder to his condemnation of Herod’s marriage to Herodias is entirely credible because the marriage was a political wedge issue as well as a moral offense. In order to marry Herodias, Herod had to divorce the daughter of Aretas IV, king of the Nabateans, a non-Jewish people who lived in close proximity to John’s growing sphere of influence. John’s stance would have appealed to both Jews and Nabateans, making him an intolerable political threat—at least in the eyes of a tin-pot tyrant.
October 13, 2021
I read a few books on the historical Jesus and found myself interested in John the Baptist. Who was this leader that Jesus followed before starting out on his own ministry? How did John see his own role as a prophet? Why did he adopt a strange diet and style of dress? Who did he think Jesus was? Are you hooked yet? If you have read about the historical Jesus, you should definitely pick this up, too.
January 25, 2019
I read this book fairly quickly because after several years of knowing Joel Marcus I knew a lot of the material he wrote. But this is a fascinating, thought-provoking look at a man who has historically been glanced over in favor of his far more famous cousin. Great critical scholarship from a master of the material.
May 27, 2019
Surveys many of the issues concerning the historical Baptist and provides an argument in favor of a connection between JTB and Qumran. In general, the writing is clear. Nothing earth shattering here, and many of the conclusions are drawn without sufficient evidence.
October 16, 2020
A pretty solid read. More enriching than 12 years of Christian education.
August 12, 2024
Moves John the Baptist out of Jesus's shadow via characteristic Joel Marcus scholarship: a detailed examination of the topic (the 11 appendices are worth the price of admission on their own) with provocative conclusions and eye-opening recontextualization.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews