Good thief gone? Revolutionaries and saints rising from graves........confused.

[patrick457]

I’m a revert and perhaps I’m missing something. But yesterday’s readings no longer included the good thief who believed in Jesus and was told that on that day he would be with Jesus in heaven. Instead two revolutionaries (not thieves as in the previous version) were mentioned and both were abusive to Jesus as they were all being crucified. Then too, there was mention of saints resurrecting from their graves and appearing to people. I didn’t think anyone resurrected before Jesus.
I miss the story I’m used to and am wondering how these revisions came about. Please enlighten me if you know the answers. Thanking you in advance.

First off, you need to understand that there are four gospels, and while three of them (Matthew, Mark and Luke) are so similar in many respects, they are all still distinct from each other. The story of the ‘good thief’ is from Luke’s gospel, while Matthew and Mark simply mention that “those who were crucified with Him also reviled Him.” John doesn’t pay much attention to the two criminals at all.

In Matthew and Mark, much emphasis is laid upon the use of Scriptural quotations and allusions, such as Psalms 22 and 69, to describe Jesus’ final moments. Matthew and Mark’s description that virtually just about everyone - the passersby, “the chief priests and the scribes and the elders,” and up to and including fellow crucifixion victims! - reviled Jesus helps to flesh out the Scriptural allusions to the Just One being rejected and scorned by everyone more:

But I am a worm and not a man,
scorned by mankind and despised by the people.
All who see me mock me;
they make mouths at me; they wag their heads;
“He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him;
let him rescue him, for he delights in him!”

The pericope of the criminal who defended Jesus, meanwhile, is crucial to Luke’s gospel, which puts a huge emphasis on repentance and forgiveness. This is, after all, the gospel that has parables like that of the Prodigal Son and the Pharisee and the Publican, and the one where Jesus is recorded as saying things like “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (in most manuscripts, anyway, excluding certain ones) and “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations.” He wouldn’t have passed on the chance to include a story which so nicely fits in with one of his overall themes.

Then there’s also the running theme of Jesus’ innocence and righteousness throughout the Lukan Passion narrative. Luke tries to make it clear now and again that Jesus was guiltless, that He never committed any wrongdoing and so did not really deserve to die, to the point that he records the centurion’s words after Jesus’ death as “Truly, this man was righteous.” (Compare this with Matthew’s and Mark’s “Truly, this was the Son of God.”) The repentant criminal’s words sum this theme all up rather nicely: “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed justly, for we are receiving the due reward of our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong.”

Luke simply refers to the two as kakourgoi, ‘evildoers’ (i.e. ‘criminals’), while Matthew and Mark refer to them as lēstai, the same word John uses for Barabbas in his gospel (lēstēs, 18:40). Lēstēs comes from a root meaning “to win,” “to seize;” hence it properly means “one who seizes prey.” In antiquity, it meant a soldier or mercenary who has an implicit right to booty (Jeremiah 18:22 Septuagint). But it usually has a bad sense, e.g. for undisciplined troops, then for robbers, bandits, etc., with an implied use of force.

While it could mean “thieves” or “robbers” as we have traditionally translate the word, the Greek word - as it is used in the Septuagint, the New Testament, and even Josephus, who uses the term to describe the Zealots - specifically meant people who killed and destroyed while plundering, not simply those who pickpocketed or stole without violence - which would be called kleptes. The idea may come close to ‘seditionists’, those who foment resistance against the established order, and who would not shirk from preying on the common population in self-support (cf. Barabbas in Mark 15:7, someone who committed murder “in the insurrection (stasis)”).

 

[FrDavid96]

Why don’t you like the idea of two seditionists being crucified with Jesus? …

What I do not like is using the word “revolutionary” to describe them because that word often has a positive connotation in our language. Which is what I keep saying.

We very often use that word to praise a person or an idea, or a commercial product.

The word revolutionary can be (and often is) a form of praise. Do you see how that can be a problem when we look at the Crucifixion?

 

[CHRISTINE77]

What I do not like is using the word “revolutionary” to describe them because that word often has a positive connotation in our language. Which is what I keep saying.

We very often use that word to praise a person or an idea, or a commercial product.

The word revolutionary can be (and often is) a form of praise. Do you see how that can be a problem when we look at the Crucifixion?

I see where you are coming from, but revolutionary can have a bad connotation too. It depends on what side you are on! I think Patrick explained the who the two “whatevers” were very well in his last post.

 

[Ridgerunner]

Why don’t you like the idea of two seditionists being crucified with Jesus? It shows how brutal the Roman Empire was. If you didn’t pay homage to the Emperor and the Roman gods, you were in big trouble, (although they did allow Jews to practice their religion). But once Christians got into the picture, they weren’t treated very nice at all! In fact, I think most of Revelation is about how horrible the Roman Empire was. In any case, all men are sinners, so whether they were thieves or seditionists, they were no doubt sinners!

Jesus Himself never spoke of Roman tyranny. His treatment of Roman soldiers was favorable, not condemnatory.

I realize it is currently fashionable (perhaps thought to be anti-anti-semitic) to attribute the Crucifixion to Rome and Roman rule; an impression that the Gospels themselve do not support. Notwithstanding later anti-Christian developments in Rome (which waxed and waned, depending on the Emperor) I think we need to be careful about anti-Romanism because it also has unfortunate connotations as regards the Church and western civilization generally.

One does need to remember that the Jews invited the Romans in. It was not unheard of for some ethnic or national groups to do that, because while Rome certainly demanded its due, it was reasonably even-handed about it and largely left local peoples, customs and religions in place. The Jews invited Romans in because they hated rule by the Greek Seluceids more. As a small people in the midst (and at the crossroads) of much larger powers, there wasn’t much to be desired in the domination of any of the local powers either. The Jews could not possibly have imagined that they would not be ruled by Rome once they invited the legions in, because examples of what Romans did when that happened were plentiful and obvious enough. Rome taxed and didn’t tolerate attempts at rebellion, but it did bring order into an otherwise chaotic world. Nor did Rome tolerate brigandage, as it disrupted commerce, which was extremely important to Rome.

So, while there are undoubtedly legitimate debates about translations and all, I will admit that it does make me at least mildly uneasy to see the two thieves characterized as revolutionaries in the modern sense of that term. Possibly I’m a bit over-sensitized to that because of a certain revisionism currently popular, in which the Crucifixion is almost converted to an anti-imperialism story rather than one in which the Messiah did come but was rejected by his own precisely because His “salvation” was (as He said Himself) not “of this world” when others had a more worldly expectation. Converting Jesus (as well as the thieves) to a Che Guevara might be pleasing to some, but I think it flies in the face of His true (and far richer) mission.

 

[Lormar]

Jesus Himself never spoke of Roman tyranny. His treatment of Roman soldiers was favorable, not condemnatory.

I realize it is currently fashionable (perhaps thought to be anti-anti-semitic) to attribute the Crucifixion to Rome and Roman rule; an impression that the Gospels themselve do not support. Notwithstanding later anti-Christian developments in Rome (which waxed and waned, depending on the Emperor) I think we need to be careful about anti-Romanism because it also has unfortunate connotations as regards the Church and western civilization generally.

One does need to remember that the Jews invited the Romans in. It was not unheard of for some ethnic or national groups to do that, because while Rome certainly demanded its due, it was reasonably even-handed about it and largely left local peoples, customs and religions in place. The Jews invited Romans in because they hated rule by the Greek Seluceids more. As a small people in the midst (and at the crossroads) of much larger powers, there wasn’t much to be desired in the domination of any of the local powers either. The Jews could not possibly have imagined that they would not be ruled by Rome once they invited the legions in, because examples of what Romans did when that happened were plentiful and obvious enough. Rome taxed and didn’t tolerate attempts at rebellion, but it did bring order into an otherwise chaotic world. Nor did Rome tolerate brigandage, as it disrupted commerce, which was extremely important to Rome.

So, while there are undoubtedly legitimate debates about translations and all, I will admit that it does make me at least mildly uneasy to see the two thieves characterized as revolutionaries in the modern sense of that term. Possibly I’m a bit over-sensitized to that because of a certain revisionism currently popular, in which the Crucifixion is almost converted to an anti-imperialism story rather than one in which the Messiah did come but was rejected by his own precisely because His “salvation” was (as He said Himself) not “of this world” when others had a more worldly expectation. Converting Jesus (as well as the thieves) to a Che Guevara might be pleasing to some, but I think it flies in the face of His true (and far richer) mission.

 

[zab]

I’m a revert and perhaps I’m missing something. But yesterday’s readings no longer included the good thief who believed in Jesus and was told that on that day he would be with Jesus in heaven. Instead two revolutionaries (not thieves as in the previous version) were mentioned and both were abusive to Jesus as they were all being crucified. Then too, there was mention of saints resurrecting from their graves and appearing to people. I didn’t think anyone resurrected before Jesus.
I miss the story I’m used to and am wondering how these revisions came about. Please enlighten me if you know the answers. Thanking you in advance.

Here is something from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops website that may help: usccb.org/bible/liturgy/
How is the Lectionary arranged?

The Lectionary is arranged in two cycles, one for Sundays and one for weekdays.

The Sunday cycle is divided into three years, labeled A, B, and C. 2008 was Year A. 2009 was Year B, 2010 is Year C, etc. In Year A, we read mostly from the Gospel of Matthew. In Year B, we read the Gospel of Mark and chapter 6 of the Gospel of John. In Year C, we read the Gospel of Luke. The Gospel of John is read during the Easter season in all three years. The first reading, usually from the Old Testament, reflects important themes from the Gospel reading. The second reading is usually from one of the epistles, a letter written to an early church community. These letters are read semi-continuously. Each Sunday, we pick up close to where we left off the Sunday before, though some passages are never read.

The weekday cycle is divided into two years, Year I and Year II. Year I is read in odd-numbered years (2009, 2011, etc.) and Year II is used in even-numbered years (2010, 2012, etc.) The Gospels for both years are the same. During the year, the Gospels are read semi-continuously, beginning with Mark, then moving on to Matthew and Luke. The Gospel of John is read during the Easter season. For Advent, Christmas, and Lent, readings are chosen that are appropriate to the season. The first reading on weekdays may be taken from the Old or the New Testament. Typically, a single book is read semi-continuously (i.e., some passages are not read) until it is finished and then a new book is started.

The year of the cycle does not change on January 1, but on the First Sunday of Advent (usually late November) which is the beginning of the liturgical year.

In addition to the Sunday and weekday cycles, the Lectionary provides readings for feasts of the saints, for common celebrations such as Marian feasts, for ritual Masses (weddings, funerals, etc.), for votive Masses, and for various needs. These readings have been selected to reflect the themes of these celebrations.

 

[ProVobis]

Just out of curiosity, is the same Lectionary used in all English-speaking countries? I can see where UKers might have an entirely different comprehension of the word “revolutionary” than Americans.

 

[patrick457]

So, while there are undoubtedly legitimate debates about translations and all, I will admit that it does make me at least mildly uneasy to see the two thieves characterized as revolutionaries in the modern sense of that term. Possibly I’m a bit over-sensitized to that because of a certain revisionism currently popular, in which the Crucifixion is almost converted to an anti-imperialism story rather than one in which the Messiah did come but was rejected by his own precisely because His “salvation” was (as He said Himself) not “of this world” when others had a more worldly expectation. Converting Jesus (as well as the thieves) to a Che Guevara might be pleasing to some, but I think it flies in the face of His true (and far richer) mission.

You have to remember two things:

(1) John’s Jesus said that His kingdom is ouk estin tou kosmou tovtou “not from this world.” It is traditionally translated as “not of this world,” but the use of the ‘of’ (which in earlier English can also serve a similar function as ‘from’: expressing direction or origin) can be misleading to a modern audience, who might imagine Jesus as saying that His kingdom is something totally nebulous and otherworldly, having no connection whatsoever to this world (in a semi-gnostic way), which isn’t exactly the import that His words have in the original.

In other words, Jesus’ kingdom is not the sort of kingdom as earthly kingdoms and empires are, which establish their authority by violence, injustice and fabricating facts out of the ground. For John, the kingdom is God’s gift to the world with Jesus as its courier, but the world was not ready for it yet as evidenced by “the world’s” rejection of Jesus. (I have Tom Wright to thank for pointing this out.)

The opening exchange between Pilate and the Judaean leaders (18.28-32) looks like a kind of shadow-boxing: Pilate, with his own intelligence networks, surely knew what charge they were proposing to bring, but wanted to force them into a concession of their own judicial impotence to deal with what they regarded as a capital charge. Pilate then (18.33-38) asks Jesus directly whether he is ‘the King of the Jews’: this was the substance of the charge, as we see later in 19.12, where the Judaean leaders declare that ‘everyone who makes himself a king is setting himself up against Caesar’, which leads directly to their own counter-victory over Pilate. After a preliminary verbal skirmish, Jesus launches in to a description of his ‘kingdom’, the substance of which is, Yes, I am a king and have a kingdom, but No, it isn’t the sort of kingdom you might imagine (18.36).

This is the point at which semi- or crypto-gnostic readings of the text have held sway for long time, partly due to the King James Version translation: ‘My kingdom is not of this world’, which has then been read in the straightforward, but deeply mistaken, sense of ‘My kingdom consists of a place called “heaven” which has nothing much to do with this world.’ But the Greek speaks of the kingdom being not ek tou kosmou toutou, not from this world. It comes from somewhere else – as, indeed, Jesus had earlier strikingly claimed about himself (8.23), and then, even more strikingly, about his followers (17.14). Granted all that we know about Jesus on the one hand and about first-century Jewish kingdom-of-God language on the other (begging, of course, several major questions at this point), we must say that the ‘kingdom’ of which Jesus was speaking was not from this world, but was emphatically for this world: a kingdom from the creator, the one Jesus called ‘Father’, and intended as the sovereignty which would replace the usurped sovereignty of ‘the ruler of this world’ and the human agents which that dark power had employed. This is, I think, the first and greatest point to be got across in relation not only to contemporary muddles and misunderstandings but to many generations of misreadings of all four canonical gospels: that, over against all Gnostic attempts, ancient and modern, to make ‘kingdom’-language denote an otherworldly bliss, it stubbornly retains its full Jewish sense, world-affirming and indeed world-reclaiming. God’s kingdom must come ‘on earth as in heaven’, and precisely for that reason it is not ‘from’ this world. That which is only from this world can only imitate the way things are done from within the world; and the key example given by Jesus, presupposing that he is a king but demonstrating the difference between his sort of kingdom and all others, is that if his kingdom were from this world his followers would fight to prevent him being handed over.

(2) Characterizing the story of Jesus is “one in which the Messiah did come but was rejected by his own precisely because His “salvation” was … not “of this world” when others had a more worldly expectation” is itself oversimplistic. We Christians often caricature the messianic expectation (or should I say, messianic expectations - this idea did not have a single form) of the 1st century as the Jews expecting this military messiah, and then Jesus comes along, who proves to be a man of peace. But the ‘warrior messiah’ model is really just one of the different expectations that floated around at the time, and of course not all Jews subscribed to it. (Heck, not all would have subscribed to the idea of a messiah - they might have expected a deliverance by God either in a cataclysmic or a more mundane way, but not necessarily in the form of an ‘anointed one’.)

 

[FrDavid96]

I see where you are coming from, but revolutionary can have a bad connotation too. It depends on what side you are on! I think Patrick explained the who the two “whatevers” were very well in his last post.

Oh yes. Revolutionary can be either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on ones perspective at the moment (again, George Washington and Lenin were both revolutionaries).

However, words like “thief” or “criminal” do not have that problem. One New Testament version I have is from the Confraternity of Christian Doctrine. It’s a revision of the Challoner-Rheims version (original copyright was 1955) reprinted. It uses the word “robbers” which is a legitimate translation of the Greek lestai. , When we hear that word, there’s no ambiguity. There’s no chance that we might sympathize with them. It’s clear to us that they were not innocent. Even if we might think the punishment harsh, there’s no chance that we would think them to be some kind of heroes.

 

[Ridgerunner]

You have to remember two things:

(1) John’s Jesus said that His kingdom is ouk estin tou kosmou tovtou “not from this world.” It is traditionally translated as “not of this world,” but the use of the ‘of’ (which in earlier English can also serve a similar function as ‘from’: expressing direction or origin) can be misleading to a modern audience, who might imagine Jesus as saying that His kingdom is something totally nebulous and otherworldly, having no connection whatsoever to this world (in a semi-gnostic way), which isn’t exactly the import that His words have in the original.

In other words, Jesus’ kingdom is not the sort of kingdom as earthly kingdoms and empires are, which establish their authority by violence, injustice and fabricating facts out of the ground. For John, the kingdom is God’s gift to the world with Jesus as its courier, but the world was not ready for it yet as evidenced by “the world’s” rejection of Jesus. (I have Tom Wright to thank for pointing this out.)

This is the point at which semi- or crypto-gnostic readings of the text have held sway for long time, partly due to the King James Version translation: ‘My kingdom is not of this world’, which has then been read in the straightforward, but deeply mistaken, sense of ‘My kingdom consists of a place called “heaven” which has nothing much to do with this world.’ But the Greek speaks of the kingdom being not ek tou kosmou toutou, not from this world. (2) Characterizing the story of Jesus is “one in which the Messiah did come but was rejected by his own precisely because His “salvation” was … not “of this world” when others had a more worldly expectation” is itself oversimplistic. We Christians often caricature the messianic expectation (or should I say, messianic expectations - this idea did not have a single form) of the 1st century as the Jews expecting this military messiah, and then Jesus comes along, who proves to be a man of peace. But the ‘warrior messiah’ model is really just one of the different expectations that floated around at the time, and of course not all Jews subscribed to it. (Heck, not all would have subscribed to the idea of a messiah - they might have expected a deliverance by God either in a cataclysmic or a more mundane way, but not necessarily in the form of an ‘anointed one’.)

Sorry to shorten your post, but there wasn’t enough room without it.

I am aware there are all sorts of people who study the words, Greek or Hebrew, of the Bible in order to tease out meanings that, oftentimes, are contrary to the meanings ascribed to them by the overall teachings and traditions of the Church. I live in the Bible Belt and the fervent Evangelicals are quick to pull out their “concordences” (I think that’s the word) and explain why this word really means this and that word really means that, and how it all proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Catholic Church is wrong in all important respects. A very protestant thing to do, but then, they are protestants, after all, and revisionism is part and parcel of their creeds, and has been from Luther on.

The post above, while interesting, does seem to indicate that the meaning of “my kingdom is not of (from) this world” is necessarily and exclusively a meaning it had to Jews at the time. There is no particular reason to believe this and, in any event, Jesus was speaking to Pilate, a Roman, not to Jews. And limiting His meaning limits His importance.

Nor is there any particular reason to believe Jesus’ statement has been misinterpreted by the Church for lo, these millenia, in a “semi-gnostic” manner. If Jesus’ kingdom is not the kingdom of heaven, then what is it? There’s nothing gnostic about the traditional meaning ascribed to Jesus’ statement.

I do realize there is a belief current among some Jews that mankind is actually responsible for bringing about the kingdom; that as soon as we establish world peace and total charity and justice toward all, the Messiah will then come. And, certainly, that view has political ramifications; misguided ones in my view, but which virtually mandate a certain political posture.

But that’s not the Catholic view. Catholicism (and most of Christianity) does not expect a worldly kingdom, whether established by military force, persuasion or good example.

I’ll readily admit that I have grown a bit weary of more secular understandings of the scriptures prevalent among the more liberal churches and churchmen; a weariness perhaps born of hearing them incessantly.

 

[paperwight66]

Just out of curiosity, is the same Lectionary used in all English-speaking countries? I can see where UKers might have an entirely different comprehension of the word “revolutionary” than Americans.

We use the ‘Jerusalem’ translation. Matthew has ‘robbers’, Mark had ‘those who were crucified with Him’, and Luke has ‘criminals’. John has ‘two others’.

I seem to remember from my Anglican days that the KJV has ‘malefactors’ i.e. evil-doers.

 

[patrick457]

Ridgerunner:

I’ll just point this one out for now. You’re misunderstanding what Wright said. Wright didn’t say the kingdom Jesus is speaking of is not the kingdom of heaven - what he is pointing out is the way some people read it, they make it appear as if the kingdom Jesus is speaking of is removed to and absolutely doesn’t have anything to do with this world. (i.e. the kingdom of God is something that doesn’t affect the earth down below but is far removed and distant from human concerns.) I don’t believe that that over-spiritualized, borderline gnostic way of reading Jesus’ saying is traditional. What Wright is saying is that Jesus is denying that His kingdom has a this-worldly origin or quality; He is not denying that it has a this-worldly destination. It is God’s gift for this world; it does not come from this world, nor is it of this world. (You also have to keep in mind here the negative connotations the term “the world” has in John’s gospel.) St. Thomas Aquinas said something pretty much similar to what Wright had written.

The false idea of Christ’s kingdom is rejected by his saying, My kingdom is not of this world. The Manicheans misunderstood this, and said that there were two gods and two kingdoms; there was a good god, who had his kingdom in a region of light, and an evil god, who had his kingdom in a region of darkness, and this darkness was this world, because all material things, they said, were darkness. The meaning would then be, My kingdom is not of this world, that is, God, the Father, who is good, and I, do not have our kingdom in this region of darkness.

But this is contrary to, “God is the king of all the earth” (Ps 47:7); and again, “Whatever the Lord pleases he does, in heaven and on earth” (Ps 134:6). Thus we should say that Christ said this for the sake of Pilate, who believed that Christ was claiming an earthly kingdom in which he would reign in the physical way that those of earth do, and so should be punished by death for trying to reign unlawfully.

Sometimes the word kingdom means the people who reign, and sometimes the authority to reign. Taking the word in its first sense, Augustine says, My kingdom, that is, my faithful ‑ you “have made them a kingdom … to our Lord” (Rev 5:10) ‑ is not of this world.[22] He does not say they are not “in the world” (17:11), but that they are not of this world, because of what they love and imitate, since they have been wrested from it by grace. For this is how God has delivered us from the power of darkness and has brought us into the kingdom of his love.

Chrysostom explains this sentence by taking kingdom in the second sense, and says, My kingdom, that is, the power and authority which makes me a king, is not of this world, that is, does not have its origin in earthly causes and human choice, but from another source, from the Father: “His dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away” (Dan 7:14).[23]

In regard to the first, note that one who has an earthly kingdom, whether by right or by force, needs associates and ministers to keep him in power: the reason being that he is powerful through his ministers, not all by himself: “There was a long war between the house of Saul and the house of David; and David grew stronger and stronger, while the house of Saul became weaker and weaker” (2 Sam 3:1). But the heavenly king, because he is powerful by himself, gives power to his servants; and consequently he does not need ministers for his kingdom. And thus Christ says that his kingdom is not of this world, because if my kingdom were of this world, my ministers would fight, that I might not be handed over to the Jews. When Peter started to fight for Christ (18:10), he forgot that he was not of this world. Still, our Lord did have some ministers, the angels, who could have rescued him from the hands of the Jews, but he chose not to be rescued: “Do you think that I cannot appeal to my Father, and he will at once send me more than twelve legions of angels?” (Mt 26:53).

But my kingdom is not from the world, that is, because Christ does not need such ministers, he concludes that his kingdom is not from the world, that is, does not have its source from this world. And yet it is here, because it is everywhere: “She [Wisdom] reaches mightily from one end of the earth to the other, and she orders all things well” (Wis 8:1); “Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage, and the ends of the earth your possession” (Ps 2:8); “And to him was given dominion and glory and kingdom, that all peoples, nations and languages should serve him” (Dan 7:14).

 

[patrick457]

I do realize there is a belief current among some Jews that mankind is actually responsible for bringing about the kingdom; that as soon as we establish world peace and total charity and justice toward all, the Messiah will then come. And, certainly, that view has political ramifications; misguided ones in my view, but which virtually mandate a certain political posture.

But that’s not the Catholic view. Catholicism (and most of Christianity) does not expect a worldly kingdom, whether established by military force, persuasion or good example.

I’ll readily admit that I have grown a bit weary of more secular understandings of the scriptures prevalent among the more liberal churches and churchmen; a weariness perhaps born of hearing them incessantly.

Are you sure it’s a 1st century idea?