Beginning from Jerusalem: Christianity in the Making, Vol. 2

by James D. G. Dunn

Eerdmans, Grand Rapids, 2009. 1,363 pp. $80.00 (cloth). ISBN 978-0-8028-3932-9.

James Dunn has been one of the most prolific and influential NT schol-ars of the last forty years. An architect of the “new perspective” on Paul, he is known for his command of the primary and secondary sources, plus meticulous attention to detail combined with a clear vision of the big picture. His work has not only reshaped the study of Paul, but also reoriented the study of the historical Jesus and his reception in the early church. Dunn writes as a Christian, always (at least implicitly) with an eye on the contemporary church. He writes for “seekers of truth”—and for those who teach them (p. xv).

Beginning from Jerusalem is the second volume in Dunn’s trilogy on the birth of Christianity, the first volume being Jesus Remembered (2003). This huge book is intimidating but—as always with Dunn—quite read-able. It covers the years 30–70 C.E. in four major parts: “Writing a History of Christianity’s Beginnings,” on method and sources; “The First Phase,” on the earliest church in Jerusalem, the Hellenists, Paul’s emergence, Peter’s mission, and the Antioch crisis addressed at Jerusalem; “Apostle to the Gentiles,” on Paul’s apostleship, mission, and churches; and, finally, “The End of the Beginning,” on the end of Paul’s ministry, the “voiceless Peter,” the fate of the Jerusalem church, and the legacy of the apostles Paul, James, and Peter as reflected in Ephesians, James, and 1 Peter. More than half of the book is about Paul.

Dunn’s agenda is “the quest for the historical church(es),” though not merely as an aspect of ancient history, but “from within,” as experienced by those who were part of it (pp. 5, 129– 30). Still, the trilogy is driven by a standard historical question: How did an apocalyptic, charismatic, evangelistic, and messianic Jewish sect become a predominantly Gentile religion? This volume answers how the movement in that direction began: through the ministry of Jews who were convinced that the eschatological Spirit had been given to Gentiles as Gentiles, obviating the need for them to become Jews but also gradually distancing themselves from the most conservative members of the sect in Jerusalem, ironically, where it all began.

Much of the book is an expert, in-depth guided tour of Acts—with all its puzzles, problems, and lacunae—and, for Paul, the letters. How can one summarize and evaluate such a project in a few paragraphs? Only by commenting on a few key topics.

1. The nature of Acts. One cannot reconstruct earliest Christian history without sources, but there has been a tendency in recent scholarship to question the historical value of Acts. Dunn sides with those who reject this “dominant theology-and-therefore-not-history school” (pp. 127–28). Making an argument similar to the one in Jesus Remembered, Dunn contends that Luke is both faithful to his sources (including the speeches) and an innovative interpreter of them. He rightly points out that Luke has an agenda—“to tell his story as the narrative of God’s working out his purpose” (p. 82) and to show the unity in the growing movement (p. 85)—but that this does not mean Luke creates a fantasy world. Rather, both the broad strokes and many of the details of Luke’s account are remarkably accurate, based, Dunn argues, on eyewitness accounts and on Luke’s own experience (the “we” passages, in which the “we” is often discounted as mere rhetoric). Luke, then, is a good ancient historian, writing history with rhetorical and artistic flair for a purpose, but still good history. Dunn’s perspective will seem conservative to some, but it is better characterized as moderate and balanced. Unfortunately, however, Dunn occasionally perpetuates the idea that Acts intends to reassure readers that the growth of the church “did not threaten Roman authority in any degree” (p. 82; cf. 553–54 and passim). While early Christianity was not politically revolutionary, according to Acts, it did fundamentally threaten everything Roman, as Kavin Rowe has persuasively argued (World Upside Down: Reading Acts in the Graeco-Roman Age [Oxford University Press, 2009]). This has more than historical consequences, affecting how we hear Acts today. At least Dunn acknowledges that Paul, like Jesus, advocated a life that was “deeply, but not openly, subversive” (p. 555).

2. The first phase. In his discussion of the earliest communities in and around Jerusalem, a topic often neglected because of the paucity of sources, Dunn leads his readers through the early chapters of Acts. He has a fascinating theological and historical analysis of the Pentecost narrative, not merely to introduce his approach to Acts, but to answer the question of how the first phase of the movement—and indeed Christianity itself—was launched. He argues that something like the narrative recounted in Acts 2 is historically quite plausible, and he rightly reminds us that this “first mass ecstasy” (p. 168), the “big bang” (p. 169) that jump-started the church, is part of the strong evidence that the first generation of Christianity “understood itself as quintessentially a movement of the Spirit of God” (p. 171).

Throughout this section, Dunn skillfully weaves together the details of Acts, relevant texts and data from other sources within and outside the NT, and historical judgments to paint a picture of nascent Christianity that is, on the whole, accurately reflected in Acts. This is not circular reasoning; rather, Dunn painstakingly and convincingly shows the plausibility of much of Acts, in spite of Luke’s tendency to engage in some hyperbole and idealization. Of special note is Dunn’s welcome accent on the vitality of the living memory of Jesus for these earliest Christians.

As the story unfolds, Dunn wisely highlights the diversity and even tension within earliest Christianity, a move with both historical and contemporary theological significance. The overall picture that emerges is of communities that are clearly Jewish and yet also distinctive: by virtue of their confession of and devotion to Jesus, act of initiation (baptism), experience of the Spirit, solidarity, scriptural interpretation, and missionary zeal—even toward Gentiles, without requiring their circumcision (thanks first to the Hellenists, or former diaspora Jews, then Paul and his colleagues, and even Peter and James). Some of these distinctives quickly enraged temple officials and other Jewish leaders, such as the pre-Christian Saul/Paul.

3. Paul. Dunn’s treatment of Paul (“the second founder of Christianity”) complements his Theology of Paul the Apostle, giving attention to what we learn from Acts and from each letter, and thus to the developing story of Paul’s mission and to the particularities of the various Pauline communities. Anyone familiar with Dunn’s work on Paul will not be surprised at his careful attention to Paul’s “theologizing” with each community and to his ongoing—though somewhat more nuanced—embrace of what he himself termed “the new perspective.” But Dunn is sometimes persuasive in unpredictable ways: Paul was likely a Roman citizen; the Damascus road experience was a conversion, not just a call (contra Krister Stendahl); the conversion was the most important source of Paul’s theology (following Seyoon Kim, a critic of the new perspective); justification is “vertical” as well as “horizontal” (a response to critics); Luke rightly has Paul beginning each urban mission at the local synagogue; and Paul almost certainly does not believe in two ways of salvation.

Of only a handful of significant disagreements I have with Dunn on Paul, one cannot go unnoted. He claims that in 1 Thessalonians Paul unfortunately wants the Thessalonians to be an introverted, Qumran-like cult unconcerned for outsiders (pp. 711–12). This seems very unlikely in light of the Thessalonians’ widespread reputation for faithfulness in persecution (1:8) and Paul's admonition to “do good to one another and to all” (i.e., insiders and outsiders; 1 Thess 5:15).

4. Final matters. Dunn argues, surprisingly but plausibly, that both James and 1 Peter contain the teaching of the apostles whose names they bear. And he contends provocatively, but persuasively, that James actually comes to Paul’s defense (!), and that he and Paul fundamentally agree on justification and ethics. Finally, Ephesians may be for Dunn the pinnacle of the NT, with its vision of Jewish-Gentile unity in the church.

Scholars will debate the details of Dunn’s reconstruction for many years. But what can preachers and teachers gain, and share, from this massive work? Four principal things, I think. First, a wealth of historical insights about the earliest churches reflected in Acts and the letters. Second, greater appreciation for the development and the distinctives of the early Christian church(es) and, consequently, for the church’s ongoing diversity. Third, gratitude to the Hellenists and Paul for opening up the movement to Gentiles. And fourth, a renewed appreciation for the role of the Spirit in the church and a corollary trust that, despite all our foibles, God’s purposes in Christ are being worked out.

Michael J. Gorman
St. Mary’s Seminary & University
Baltimore, Maryland   

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God and Earthly Power: An Old Testament Political Theology

by J. G. McConville

Continuum Biblical Studies. New York, T & T Clark, 2008. 200 pp. $44.95. ISBN 978-0-567-04570-6.

J. G. McConville observes how theological scholarship generally has been guided by one of three approaches, the traditional historical-critical method (behind the text), “a method of reading in which texts are understood in light of each other” (p. 10, of/within the text), and a reader-centered approach (in front of the text). While he expresses his intention to utilize all three, and while instances are not lacking in which he attends to historical context, his portrayal of the political theology of the OT is mainly shaped by the meaning he discovers within the narrative of the received canon.

The book’s subtitle, An Old Testament Political Theology, suggests a broader scope than a study of Genesis to 2 Kings. The consequence of this selectivity is serious, as alternative theo-political formulations found in Hebrew Scripture are scarcely mentioned, and when they are, as in the case of the royal theology, the interpretation is negative. The result is that the inclusivist/Deuteronomic political theology that McConville eloquently describes and commends to the reader does not benefit from a serious discourse with the other political views coming to expression in Scripture.

At the center of McConville’s study is the biblical emphasis on the oneness of God. Although, as he notes, it has become fashionable to attribute intolerance, domination, and violence to monotheism and to extol (in a manner echoing modern pluralism) worship of a multiplicity of gods as a source of world harmony, he presents the thesis that rightly understood, the biblical confession in one God as creator and ruler of all peoples presents the modern world with the unique opportunity to develop political philosophies and strategies dedicated to inclusive justice and peace. The key to this opportunity is found in the attribution to God of sedakah (righteousness/justice) and the confession that God created a universe based on that very quality. God calls all nations to live in harmony with righteousness/justice, with the promise that obedience will lead to universal peace, while rejection of God’s call will result in chaos. In support of his claim for the universal vision of Scripture, he points to the report that already in antediluvian times “people began to invoke the name of the Lord” (Gen 4:26b), that even before the Torah was revealed to Moses, righteousness was ascribed to Noah and Abraham, and that alongside Israel’s ancestors, Gentiles like Rahab played a part in the biblical drama. While not denying Israel’s particular calling to exemplify true worship and faithful obedience, McConville emphatically denies the charge that the Bible is exclusivist and oppressive of other peoples, for in the unity of God’s creation lies the promise of peace among nations and liberation of the oppressed from rulers who, like the Pharaoh defeated by YHWH, are agents of chaos.

The book has a number of strengths. First, McConville is to be commended for the clarity with which he delineates the central importance of the biblical confession of one God for political theology. Without appreciation for what within the Bible is the first commandment, it is impossible to construct the foundation for a theo-political vision that is both faithful to biblical tradition and beneficial to the people God’s disciples are called to serve. Second, by identifying sedakah as lying at the heart of God’s nature, and by extension, being built into the very structure of all creation and all humans (“image of God”), McConville pro-vides profound insight into that which enables the Bible to offer hope for a peaceable and just world order. Finally, McConville’s interpretation of the laws constituting the Torah as applications of Israel’s understanding of earthly institutions as responses to God’s creational purposes, rather than as timeless rules reflective of a timeless order (as in the Egypt of the Pharaohs), opens up the Bible’s legal traditions for contemporary moral reflection. Similarly, his explanation of the balancing of powers between judiciary, monarchy, priesthood, and prophecy in the Deuteronomistic polity (regarding which he acknowledges indebtedness to S. Dean McBride) directly relates to present-day political-philosophical debate.

Weaknesses include McConville’s methodology, which can be characterized as narrative/canonical with occasional references to historical matrix. It mutes the rich developmental dimen-sion to biblical tradition and the lively interplay between different political perspectives that facilitates engagement of biblical tradition with the complex issues and challenges of the modern world. For example, dismissal of royal theology as the seizure of power belonging to God by a human tyrant (and thus by definition an agent of chaos) fails to appreciate monarchy as a response to a precarious situation in which the collapse of tribal institutions coincided with Philistine aggression. Analogous observations could be made regarding the sapiential, apocalyptic, and accommodationist theo-political strategies found in the Bible.

The above criticism implies an approach that would incorporate a more rigorous study of the contexts within which various theo-political alternatives waxed and waned over time, an approach deploying the tools of historical critical methodology supplemented by social-anthropological analysis and greater attention to archaeological data. Such attention to the diachronic dimension, in turn, would expose the complexity of political institutions in Israel and enable honest grappling with elements of violence and domination attributed to divine commands, such as the slaughter of the indigenous peoples in the conquest. The result would be a thicker description of the creative, liberating dynamic of Israel’s central confession of God’s oneness and righteousness that McConville describes with force and clarity, a description underlining the “messiness” of the phenomenon in which a just and merciful God chooses humans as partners and their institutions as the mediating agencies of his earthly rule.

Paul D. Hanson
Harvard Divinity School
Cambridge, Massachusetts

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