Dear David,
Thank you for your letter I get so very few – I welcome yours because you are clearly interested in the difficulties of writing about other people and what drives them. If I understand your thinking aright, it would seem likely that we have much to learn from each other. As you imply, we both have to employ our imaginations in order to benefit more fully. It would be less than honest if I were to claim that I knew exactly what it was that I was writing about. But I think that I can claim that what got written was well worth the effort! I hope you agree.
I am reluctant to answer your opening questions as to who actually decided what should be written. We judged that it was unnecessarily risky to put a name to our writing – in those early days the writing was for our own local use. The risks came from more than one direction. The different parties within Judaism did not welcome the reforms we practised, much as we emphasised our loyalty to many of the traditions. The frequency and seriousness of the skirmishes between groups of our younger men and the occupier’s military were clearly escalating and, later, came to a dreadful ending in Jerusalem, as you know. Yes, I did the actual writing, but there were a number of contributors and some kind of agreement had to be arrived at between us.
Try to imagine how the writing came about. The Sabbath, the idea of the synagogue, the minyan all were a source of moral strength, it helped us to maintain our traditions, our sense of who we were. Some there were who in their haste to benefit from the occupation almost became Romans themselves. We were often challenged as to our authority for the modest changes we were advocating. All we had to offer, other than selected passages in the scriptures, were stories. Moreover, there was even disagreement between the stories: they even changed in the telling – that was another problem!
What happened was probably as much by accident as by design. Perhaps it was the occasions of the major feasts which drove it. We wanted to show how our practices bore some comparison with the designated reading at those times.
Deciding that it would be good to get the stories written down was but the start of our problems. As you know, new stories were circulating about sharp disagreements between those in Jerusalem and those who supported Paul; he who wanted to spread the reforms brought about by the teachings of Jesus (as we shall call him) to the goyim. This argument looked as if it might run and run. Steering a course between them seemed sensible. Full disclosure: I had a distant relative who had travelled with Paul and Barnabas but had separated from them and returned to Jerusalem, so I was somewhat torn myself.
Speaking of full disclosure, I am grateful for your letter, because it allows me to admit, as I hinted earlier, that I do not know what happened in any detail. I, too, had to rely on the stories and make of them what I could. Perhaps better, we had to make of them what we could. Do not read what we wrote if you want to know the truth of that man’s life and teaching: that has to be sought by searching for whatever coherence might be found between the stories. Perhaps better, by an exploration of finding what works?
I shall leave you with just one thought. As you know, we, the writers, were convinced that the tradition that Jesus had a very distinctive style of teaching, whether in the synagogue, or on the road, was a faithful tradition. He always taught by telling stories which, for the most part he did not explain, though he did make some very clear demands in specific situations. In our writing, we have tried to follow that lead, believing that there is something very powerful about that process of storytelling without explanation.
In that belief, I offer no further stories or claims other than those we wrote at the time, but I do hope that we might continue our conversation.
I also remain, an enquirer,
‘Mark’.