A Typology of the Gospel Genre in the Light
of Ancient Narrative Genres
Introduction
This
article attempts two tasks. It seeks to
provide a theoretical model or schema that situates the gospels in relation to
other forms of ancient narrative, specifically historiography, biography and
the novel, or romance. It attempts, also, to provide in the theoretical model
proposed, a fluid and flexible approach to the place of the gospel narratives
within the field of ancient narrative genres. These tasks, important in
themselves, are pertinent to a set of issues to do with the referential status
of the gospel genre vis-à-vis the
stance taken to reality. That is, on a
spectrum of narrative possibilities ranging from ‘fiction’ to ‘history’ where
do the gospels stand? A fuller
discussion of these issues must be reserved to another occasion. Nonetheless, the considerations entertained
here may be both preliminary to, and constitutive of a fuller discussion.
These two tasks, stated so baldly,
form the basis of a project, which in scope goes far beyond what is possible in
an article such as this. For each task
raises philosophical and methodological issues that are both complex and
large. Furthermore, inasmuch as they
call for an interdisciplinary approach that encompasses not only gospel studies
and the study of ancient genres more properly the domain of the classicist, but
also genre and literary theory,
the tasks lie beyond the capabilities of one scholar. In the light of this, two observations are
appropriate. First, what follows is at
best a prolegomenon to further work.
Second, it is my hope that this initial work will not only add usefully
to the store of scholarly deliberations on the question of the gospel genre,
but also will also call forth further research and debate.
The genesis of this study may be
found in my book Narrative Art and Act in
the Fourth Gospel. The inspiration for a central idea in this
paper, namely the ‘typological circle of narrative genres’ is to be found in
F.K. Stanzel’s book, A Theory of
Narrative. I am indebted to this
work not only for the model of a typological circle, but also for the important
notion of ‘dynamization’. This notion,
that the narrative situation of a narrative may change over the course of narration,
and that consequently a work may be situated in relation to more than one ideal
type of narrative perspective, I have adapted to the question of genre
classification. A narrative may be
situated within the ambit of more than one genre.
The problem of defining and
determining genre.
In
his book, What are the Gospels? Richard
Burridge states that a satisfactory answer to the question of the gospels’
genre must be founded, amongst other considerations, upon an adequate theory of
genre. This claim is, I believe, entirely correct:
but attaining such a theory is not at all an easy task. There are problems and questions at every
turn. What is a genre? How is a genre formed? How does a genre function both in the
formation of a given writing, and in its reception? Do generic influences act implicitly or
explicitly?
How
do generic considerations influence an author?
How do generic considerations influence a work’s reception? What are the respective situations of author
and readers in determining genre? What is the relationship of one genre to
another? What is the relationship of a
given work to the range of possible genres with which it might be
associated? How are new genres created
and how are they recognized and defined?
We cannot discuss here all the issues
and problems raised by this set of questions (and, doubtless, others might be
added). Rather I posit a set of
assumptions or propositions regarding the nature and function of genre which
provide the rationale for the model of genre, and generic relationships to be
proposed below. The first proposition
is that genre is a function of communication rather than a system for
categorizing kinds of writing. To be
more precise, the habit of categorizing or typifying individual works or sets
of works is an aspect of a wider generic function in communicating the meaning
and purpose of that work or those works. In other words, the concept of genre arises
out of a set of expectations or conventions that are shared by an author and
readers. Another way of putting it is that genres form
one of those sets of conventions, or “appropriateness conditions”, which
authors and readers assume to be in force, or derive from the shared knowledge
which they rely on to ensure that communication is effective and successful. Different genres will raise different sets of
expectations and, as we shall see in a moment, allowance must be made for
factors that require expectations to be moderated and permit them to be
altered.
A second proposition is that genres
arise within contexts: and two contexts in particular. These are a literary-historical context and a
social-historical context. That is to
say, every work is situated both by explicit allusions and similarities to and
implicit associations with, other works.
The connections between works may arise by way of the derivation of a
given work’s character from the form, content or function of a prior work (or
set of works). They may also arise from perceived similarities in form, content
or function between a given work and other works, which are thereby taken to be
generically related by virtue of these similarities. The operations of these connections are a
function of the literary-historical context of generic formulation.
The literary-historical context of a
genre encompasses the literary evolution of a genre in terms of both the
genre’s antecedents and the transformations and developments that take place
within the genre itself. Understanding the literary-historical context
calls for a ‘long view’ of the genre, if not a ‘broad’ one as well. A difficult question here is to determine how
long and how broad the survey should be.
On the one hand, which other generic types may be considered to be more
or less direct generic antecedents? On
the other hand, how wide a variety of specific instances (and under what
criteria) may be subsumed within the ‘boundaries’ of the genre?
The social-historical context of genre formation includes
such things as the world-view and cultural mores in force when the work is
produced, and the extra-textual or minimally-textual conventions which may
obtain when the work is promulgated, such things for example, as the
conventional designation given to the work by a reader or publisher (‘a novel’,
‘non-fiction’, ‘popular literature’ and so forth). An example of a minimally
textual convention which helped to fix the genre of the gospels was the
addition, perhaps some time in the second century, of the word euangelion
(‘gospel’) to the previously appended titles kata Matthaion, kata Markon, kata Loukan, kata Iõannes (‘according to Matthew’, etc).
The social-historical context also
includes the particular social and historical influences upon the author of a
given work at the time that the work is produced. The specific social-historical context of a
given work’s production may result in modulations to and developments of
generic models. However, social-historical factors affecting the generic
character of ancient works are never fully present to later generations of
readers, and inferences about these may not be as easily obtained from the text
as literary-historical indicators are assumed to be. Hence, for example, we can never be certain
whether the kerygmatic formulation of
the gospel, or the desire for promulgating the gospel message, had a greater or
lesser influence on the writer of Mark’s Gospel than say, a real or unconscious
awareness of ancient biographical writing.
When it comes to a discussion of
genre, both the literary-historical and the social-historical contexts are
addressed from the perspective of the literary and social context of the modern
reader and critic. In part, this
anticipates a point made below, that genre is co-determined by author and
reader (see pp. 10-11). However, it also
touches upon a problem that is pertinent to the methodology of this project,
and to any discussion of literary genre.
It is that much of the theory of genre, if not the concept itself, is a
modern preoccupation. Consequently,
discussion of generic issues must use terms and concepts that derive from
contemporary formulations and conceptualizations. Indeed, even where reference is made to
ancient critical conceptions or debates, these are refracted through the
critical language and conceptualizations of post-Enlightenment, and we must now
say, post-modern readers. It is arguably
the case that ancient readers had, at best, a rudimentary conception of genre.
In any case, interest in the literary features of works addressed issues to do
with the rhetorical utility of different forms, aesthetic and formal
considerations or, as regards narrative in particular, whether the propositions
or assertions put forward were ‘true’ or ‘false’. These bald statements require further
elaboration, but space forbids it. My
point, for the moment, is that analysis of literary-historical and
social-historical contexts, in both diachronic and synchronic mode, also
contains a tension between the conceptions of ancient literary reception (so
far as this can be determined, or reconstructed) and contemporary literary
reception.
Third, genres are composed of
individual works that are related by shared traits or common features to larger
groupings or classes of types (conventionally known as genres or
sub-genres). The traits or features which
determine the nature of the relationship between individual works are of three
general types: they may be traits of form or structure; traits of content; or
traits of function. The determination of which traits or features
will combine to constitute a larger grouping or class (a given genre or
sub-genre) is arrived at by a kind of historical and cultural consensus. As each individual work comprises its own
unique set of traits which put it relationship with other works it is possible
for a given work to exhibit features which place it in relationship with works
which have been deemed to belong to different groupings. The reverse of this is that the traits that
are constitutive of one genre or sub-genre may also be found in other genres and
sub-genres as well. Genres and sub-genres
are arrived at by a process which is historical and ‘contractual’ (we might
also say ‘consensual’) and which entails the determination that for a given
genre or sub-genre these traits or features will be constitutive and while
those will not. In my opinion, stability
is given to the consensus by explicit and implicit agreements that certain
features will be dominant or ‘central’ for a given genre and others will be
subordinate or ‘peripheral’.
A final proposition that proceeds
from the previous three is that the concept of genre is a fluid and flexible
concept. This is a most important and foundational
observation for several reasons. First,
the nature of genre as a ‘set of expectations’ or a conventional activity means
that definitions of genre may change through time as expectations change. Moreover, a given work may flout the
expectations that obtain for a given genre, thus producing a mutation of the
genre that may then be seen as a new genre altogether. Third, as has been seen above, the fact that
traits can be shared among different genres means that the boundaries between
genres are open not closed.
Finally, the conventional nature of genre is determined from two directions,
that of the author and that of the reader.
Several factors may contribute to the fact that the conventional
expectations of author and reader may not meet.
There may be ignorance of generic conventions on the part of the author
or the reader, or both. Historical distance between the time of the work’s
production and the time of its reception may give rise to a disparity in
conventional expectations. It is
generally held that when it comes to determining the genre of an ancient work,
the conventional expectations that obtained at the time of writing ought to
take precedence over later conventional expectations. However, two things stand in the way of this. It may not be possible to be entirely sure
what were the conventional expectations that obtained when the work was
produced. Nor is it possible entirely to
disengage one’s own current conventional expectations from the interpretative
act, and therefore an understanding of a work’s genre is bound to be affected
by contemporary views of genre. To these
may be added a third which is simply that in any age the subjective nature of
reading and interpretation means that there will never be complete unanimity on
what conventional expectations should apply nor even what properly constitutes
a conventional expectation.
Another way of putting all this is
to say that the determination of genre is a dynamic process, or a continuing
dialogue between authors or their works and readers, within the contexts of
literary-historical and social-historical situations. What is required therefore, is a theory of
genre that allows for the dynamic interrelationships that may exist between
different genres. It must recognize that
individual works may exhibit traits or characteristics that place them in an
ambiguous situation vis-à-vis a
number of genres or may permit different readers to make different judgments
about the genre to which these works should be assigned. Descriptive rather than prescriptive
approaches are to be preferred. A
general scholarly consensus will be more achievable than absolute certainty in
the determination of the genre of some works.
The problem of the genre of the
gospels.
The
history of the scholarly debate over the genre of the gospels need not be
rehearsed here. A couple of observations on that debate will
suffice. First, the debate in Germany
earlier this century over the distinction between Hochliteratur and Kleinliteratur, and the consequent view of the
gospels as belonging within the sphere of Kleinliteratur
(lacking ‘conscious literary intention’ and having their origins among and
affinities with oral folktales’) is now seen to be beside the point. Indeed, even less rigidly formulated
distinctions between ‘popular’ and more literary writings are immaterial to the
determination of genre. A given genre
may include both ‘highbrow’ and ‘popular’ instances.
Second, a measure of consensus seems to be emerging currently
that the gospels are best regarded as some form of ancient biography. Even so, there is evidently room for wide
debate amongst scholars as to the actual type of ancient biography that most
closely approximates to the gospel form.
Furthermore, the rising interest in the ancient novel means that this
genre is being considered as a source of possible parallels to, if not
influences upon, the gospels. There is a
growing number of works, which draw comparisons between the gospels and ancient
Greco-Roman romance literature. The consensus, then, is tenuous and always
open to modifications or modulation.
It should be noted also, that this consensus (if such it be)
is set against a discussion which has included many other suggestions for the
genre of the gospels. These have
included the theses that they derive from liturgical settings, or are a written
expansion of the oral kerygma, or that
they are to be associated with aretalogical interests
on the one side, or historiographical interests on the other.
There are three issues which have constituted the debate (or,
at least, have been currents running under much of the discussion) which must
be discussed here. The first is the
question whether the gospels are to be considered as generically sui generis. The form critical view, especially promoted by
Bultmann, was that as their origins lay in the oral traditions of the kerygma, and as they were a literary
creation designed to serve the apologetic, evangelistic and liturgical needs of
the church, the gospels were a unique literary type. Bultmann reacted in particular against the
position of Votaw, that the gospels were to be linked with ancient biography. However, as has been stated many times, no
literary creation springs forth in a vacuum and without antecedents. In fact, a work that displayed no
characteristics that enabled it to be compared and contrasted with other
related works would be incomprehensible and meaningless. Situating a work in respect of its genre is a
necessary component of understanding and interpretation. This granted, the issue really has to do
with whether the gospels form a class, or sub-genre, of their own. That is, while they bear affinities with
other related generic types (say ancient biography) in a broad sense, do they
retain a sufficient number of differentiated and individual features to warrant
assigning them to a generic sub-type of their own, perhaps with its own name? Put another way, are they sui generis, not in the sense of having
sprung up in a kind of generic vacuum, but in the sense that they are ‘of their
own kind’, sufficiently different to be classed in a category of their
own? I shall argue that the answer to
that question is, in part, ‘yes’: but that this must be set in the context of a
theory of genre which is flexible and open and which maintains a tension
between relatedness and uniqueness.
A second issue is the question of whether the gospels can be
treated en bloc when discussing their
genre. Might not there be sufficient
variations in purpose, structure and, in the case of the Fourth Gospel in
particular, content to warrant discussion of them as separate, and separable,
instances that may align themselves, taken individually, with a number of
different genres? The case of Luke-Acts
presents special difficulties. Are the
two parts of this work to be treated separately and assigned to different
genres? Or, does the evident fact that the author
intended them to form a unity of some sort, even if they were written and
published at different times, require that they be treated as belonging to the
same genre? Whatever decision is made,
the case for it must be argued. Lack of
a sustained argument on this point, it seems to me, is a weakness of Burridge’s
treatment of the gospel genre. He makes a number of qualified observations,
stating that Acts and the gospels may be related genres. He is reluctant to separate Luke from the
other gospels, and his instincts are correct in this. And as has been pointed out, the canonical
placing of Luke and Acts arguably demonstrates that the early church recognized
Luke’s affinities with the other gospels and did not hesitate to split
Luke-Acts into two separate parts. The two works may even have been written and
published separately. Nonetheless,
Burridge also notes affinities between Luke and Acts which make the generic
specification of either problematic. At
a number of points in his book, Burridge’s analysis proceeds by an explicit
designation of the work as ‘Luke-Acts’. I do not fault Burridge for these necessary
inconsistencies, but rather wish to suggest that he has not been able to fully
bring together his theory of genres as having open, flexible boundaries with
his analysis of Luke or Luke-Acts. In
particular, he needs to consider more carefully the implications of his theory
for the generic mapping of Luke-Acts. At the very least, the relationship between
the two parts requires a rather subtle approach to the determination of their genre.
A third issue is whether the determination of a given work’s
genre should proceed from considerations of the work’s derivation or
originating generic influences, or whether the genre is determined by
considerations of analogy. That is, has
this work developed out of this
genre, or these generic forebears? Or
should it be understood in relation to
this genre, or these generic types? This
is, perhaps, to suggest a false dichotomy: the issue may not be resolved by an
‘either/or’ approach so much as by ‘both/and’ considerations. Nevertheless, I
suggest that much of the disagreement which attends discussion of genre may be
attributed to the fact that generic derivation or analogical analysis represent
two different perspectives from which the discussion starts. In a sense, this issue is related to, and may
have points of contact with, the prescriptive versus the descriptive approach
in the theory of genre. Derivation tends towards prescription;
analogy tends towards nominalism.
A typological circle of narrative
genres. (See figures 1 and 2)
The
typological circle of narrative genres presented below draws its inspiration
from F.K. Stanzel’s ‘typological circle of narrative situations’. Briefly, the theory holds that every work’s
‘narrative situation’ is defined in relation to three ‘ideal types’ (authorial,
figural and first person) or ‘ahistorical constants’. Each ideal type is determined by certain
structural oppositions and defining characteristics. The three types represent poles on a circular
continuum towards which a given work may gravitate or away from which it may
move. Along with this is an important
operation known as ‘dynamization’, which means that the mode of narration may
move between the poles over the course of the narration. Thus a work may display features which are
constitutive of one of the poles at some points, while at other points it may
take on features which are constitutive of another pole or ‘ideal type’. Put another way, certain features that
associate a work with one of the types may be dominant at some points, while
other features which move the work towards or into the domain of another type,
may be in the foreground at other points.
The great merit of Stanzel’s theory is his absolute insistence upon the
open and flexible nature of the typological circle. It is to be ‘an inclusive continuum’ and
dialectic in its operations.
The same considerations motivate the typological circle of
narrative genres. The aim is provide a
system of genres which allows for the location of individual works at different
point along a continuum of generic types.
It also allows for the possibility that works will reside on the
boundary of generic types, and will even display features that are constitutive
of a number of different generic types.
Thus as a descriptive schema the model attempts to be both inclusive and
dialectic. It is inclusive in the sense
that works may be brought into contiguity with other works that display the
same features. It is dialectic in that
it takes sufficient account of a work’s individual peculiarities, so that works
may also find their place in terms of their differences.
It should be noted that this typological circle provides a
model for mapping narrative types. It is not my intention to provide a circle
that will encompass all conceivable genres. Furthermore, the mode of narration that
obtains in these narratives is prose
(though, in principle, it would be possible to assimilate forms of poetic
narration to the model as well).
The typological circle of narrative
genres draws upon the ancient rhetoricians’ system of classifying narrative
‘according to its truth-content’. Here we find three ‘ideal types’ (ahistorical
constants) that provide a means whereby the referential status of a given
narrative may be plotted. The three types are historia (narration of actual events), plasma (narration of events which are invented but which are like
actual events and might be taken as ‘true’; in Latin, this category is called argumentum), and muthos (Latin: fabula; ‘a
type of narrative which is neither true nor does it approximate actual events’).
The
construction of this typological circle, then, is based upon a number of
presuppositions, each of which may be open to modification, challenge and
debate.
1. That the ancient
rhetorical division of narrative into three basic types: historia, plasma (argumentum), and muthos (fabula) is a legitimate heuristic device that may provide
the three ‘ideal’ ahistorical constants by which the referential status of
narratives may be plotted.
2. When it comes to
narrative, the question of a work’s relationship to the real world (its ‘truth’
content) is a fundamental question in terms of determining the genre to which
the work should, or will be assigned.
That is, one of the basic questions that readers pose (consciously or
unconsciously) when faced with a narrative is: ‘How does this narrative relate
to the real world?’, or to put it more pointedly, ‘Is this narrative a work of
history or of fiction?’. This question (not usually so baldly stated)
lurks behind many biblical scholars’ discussions of the nature and genre of the
gospels. The question is more likely to
be framed as: ‘Is this history or is it theology?’. The ‘default’ position of much biblical
scholarship since the Enlightenment has been ‘that which arises out of the
faith of the early church is ipso facto
relatively suspect as history’. The
history/theology dichotomy has been a convenient shorthand that, until recently
at least, has not taken seriously enough the problems raised by the narrative
form of historical discourse.
3. Each type or
constant may be defined by a number of broad generic features relating to form,
content and function. While the three
types may share a number of these features, certain dominating features (or
indicators) characterize each type. The
defining characteristics provide each type with the structural constituents
that set it apart from the other two types.
A given narrative’s position on the circle will be determined by the configuration
of its generic features and the degree to which they approximate to the
dominating features of an ideal type.
4. The types represent
‘ideals’ to which no one narrative may conform in all its parts. Furthermore, the boundaries between the types
are open and a given narrative may straddle or reside near the boundary of two
or more of the types. Indeed, a
narrative’s referential status may be such that it is deemed to cross
boundaries, and modulate its position on the typological circle.
Assuming
that it is indeed possible to isolate a number of dominating features for each
type (#3 above), the question is, what are these dominating features? I propose the following, based upon a
synthesis of scholarly debate about and descriptions of ancient genres.
Historia
Content: Histories
deal with res gestae (‘deeds’ and
‘events’), generally wars, affairs of state and politics, and the great deeds
of great men. The focus is on past
events, both distant and in the recent past, and on times contemporaneous with
the author.
Function (= motivation and purpose). Histories aimed to tell the ‘truth’ about res gestae, to give a
‘complete’ account, that is, one that is broad in scope, detailed and
explanatory.
The motivation for the writing of narrative under the rubric of historia was the provision of
information, often with a strong didactic intent;
but such narrative could also have a polemic thrust
and an interest in entertainment.
Form: In style, a history was a ‘report’ based on ‘inquiry’
dependent upon material collected by autopsy and interviewing other people, and
often extensive travel by the author. The author generally used past historic and
pluperfect tenses, and wrote in the third person, and only rarely the first
person. Hence a certain authorial
distance was maintained. Prefaces and other rhetorical and structural
devices (e.g. in the case of Herodotus, the habit of laying out alternative
views or explanations side by side and hence inviting the reader to assess the
evidence) underlined the ‘research’ aspect of the work. The narrative voice was tuned to the
requirement to assess the relationship of the narrative to ‘real-world
historical facts’. Thus sources are
referred to and attempts are made to assess the historical reliability of these
sources; and where sources conflict to adjudicate amongst the differing reports
to reconstruct what happened. Narrative interspersed with created speeches
characterizes the structure of many histories.
In terms of structure, smaller units within historical works
could include ekbole, parekbasis (digressions). Indeed, the style and rhetorical form of
digressions in historical narratives may well have been different from that
found in non-historical, ‘plasmatic’ narratives. If such was indeed the case,
this would have provided readers with a clear formal signals as to the genre to
which the narrative belonged. Whole works appeared under various forms,
such as that of the ‘war monograph’, contemporary history, and universal
history.
Plasma
Content: the ‘ideal’ novels
generally deal with the love relationship of a young couple. Broadly speaking,
the plot revolves around a handsome young man and a beautiful young woman (or a
boy and a girl) who fall in love with each other. They may or may not marry, but the substance
of the plot is the vicissitudes that subsequently befall them to threaten the
continuance and integrity of the relationship. Events are motivated by the
schemes and actions of humans, though the operations of Eros (Love) and Tyche
(Fate or Fortune) are also invoked as reasons why things occur. The staple diet
of these novels is love, adventure and violence.
The focus is upon the individual: upon the individual’s moral
character, and upon the individual’s emotional reactions to events. Even where the story contains historical
persons, the main characters are generally fictional. The setting is realistic and, by and large,
events are such as might happen in real life, though those of a more miraculous
and fantastic nature also occur. The focus of interest is upon events and
themes at the level of the personal and particular, though the novels might
also recount wars and larger affairs.
Historical detail is generally subsidiary to the main plot
and anachronisms are frequent. The plot
is filled out with many geographical or ‘scientific’ digressions (e.g.
descriptions of exotic peoples or strange incidents, flora and fauna), ekphrases (digressions) on works of art,
gnõmai (maxims) on life, and
psychological observations on human behaviour.
Function: Entertainment and escape
are a prime motivation in the writing of the novels, though rhetorical display
is also important. Indeed, much of what
happens or is described amounts to rhetorical elaboration of one sort or
another. Didactic and moral purposes are also present (e.g. the promotion of
the virtues of chastity and commitment, or of the ideal ruler).
Form: Historiographical techniques
are imitated in structural arrangements, such as division into ‘books’, diction
and style. The characters are ‘ideal’ not real
people. Often a minor historical figure
is made a main character, or a leading figure in history becomes a minor
character. In the process, facts and
historical persons can be ‘transposed’ or anachronisms may appear. Authors show a preference for scenic
presentation.
It is important to note here an
article by Tomas Hägg in which he argues that Chariton’s Chaereas and Callirhoe and another novel, preserved only in a
fragmentary condition, Metiochus and
Parthenope, are best described as historical novels. In the course of this article he isolates a
number of features which he takes as delimiting features of an historical novel
(as over against the ‘novel in general’).
These are, that the novel is set ‘at least one or two generations back’
and that ‘the historical constituents of the novel are “researched rather than
remembered”, i.e. that the author has not himself experienced them but has had
to rely mostly on written or oral sources’. This places them in contrast to novels set in
the recent past, or ‘contemporary novels’.
We might also note that these features also set the ancient ‘historical
novel’ in contrast with some ancient historiography which treats of events of
the recent past and with which the author has some personal acquaintance (cf.
Polybius, Josephus). We might debate how
these features set the ‘ancient novel’ in comparison with the gospels, which
arguably also treat of events in the recent past (though, ‘one or two generations
back’?) and of which the writers may have had some personal experience (‘Mark’?
‘John’? ‘Luke’ in Acts – the ‘we’ passages?).
Other features of the historical
novel are that fictitious characters appear within a historical setting, but
historical figures need to appear as well, ‘ideally mixing with the fictitious
ones so as to create a “mixture of the real and the imaginary on the same plane
of representation”’. The plot must also include a number of
‘historical’ events and a sense of ‘historical verisimilitude’ must be
maintained. Hägg quotes Avrom Fleishman as saying, “What
makes a historical novel historical is the active presence of a concept of
history as a shaping force”. However, Hägg himself points out that ‘[i]t
would be absurd to demand from an
ancient novelist like Chariton a sense of “history as a shaping force”, which
we do not find in the historians or biographers of his age-in fact, perhaps not
until after the French Revolution…’. This is an important reminder that the canons
of modern critical analysis cannot be uncritically applied to ancient works:
and that the conceptions of history and fiction that obtain today cannot be
directly aligned with those of ancient readers or critics.
Nevertheless, it is significant that
the earlier novels, which are likely to have been contemporaneous with the
gospels, are to be understood as more like ‘historical’ novels than the later
ones. This means that they will find
their place on the typological circle closer to the pole of historia than the later ancient
novels. Insofar as the gospels share
generic features with the novels, they will gravitate towards the pole of plasma. In as much as they treat of matters which are
rooted in history, they will remain within the ambience of historia.
A fuller analysis of ancient narratives,
and further refinement or extension of the description of each ideal type’s
dominating features is required. For
reasons of space and time a description of the dominating features for the
ideal type muthos has been left
aside. While I would argue that the
generic characteristics most to be found in the gospels situate them between
the poles of historia and plasma, a full account would have to
address the question of the degree to which certain features place the gospels
under the ‘gravitational pull’ of muthos. Such a question must await attention. As regards the figures which give
diagrammatic expression to this thesis, it is pertinent to observe here that a
three dimensional presentation is really required to do justice to the generic
situation of the gospels (not to speak of ancient narrative genres in
general). Readers might care to envisage
a sphere divided into three sectors (historia,
plasma, muthos). Individual
narratives reside at different points on the surface of the sphere (or even
within it) depending upon their relation to the ahistorical constants.
The gospels on the typological
circle of ancient narrative genres. (See figure 3)
One
of the tasks of this project is to place the gospels upon the typological
circle of ancient narrative genres. The
argument will be that the gospels form a distinct generic grouping which is to
be placed on the typological circle on a continuum between the poles of historia and plasma. There are three
ancient genres with which the gospels have been compared and contrasted and
these are history, biography (bioi),
and the ancient novel or romance. Narratives that may be described as
‘histories’ obviously sit closest to the pole of historia; while the ancient novels are closest to the pole of plasma.
The ancient bioi range along
the spectrum between the poles of historia
and plasma. It should be noted that works which may be
generally classed as belonging primarily to one of these three genres, taken as
individual examples will find a place at different points along the continuum
between the two poles.
As the gospels have very often been seen as associating in
generic type most closely with different forms of the ancient bioi, I shall make a few observations
about the generic features of the biographical types of narrative. This will
help to indicate why they occupy positions that sit between the two poles of historia and plasma. C.H. Talbert lists a number of ways in which
ancient biography was distinct from history. History treats of ‘grand events and seeks to
discover the causes behind events. To this end, an individual’s character may
be considered as one cause among others.
Biography, on the other hand, ‘deals with incidental matters as well as
grand events’ and the focus is upon the character of the individual whose life
is being told. Events are recounted to
reveal character. The subject of history
was political and military events, and the aim was to provide instruction for
‘political figures as political figures’.
The subject of biography was the character of an individual or of a
people, and the aim was ‘to shape the life of the reader as a human
being’. S.M. Praeder notes a further
distinction when she states that ‘[t]he events of ancient histories unfold in
chronological order but usually not in biographical sequence’.
Bioi are,
for the most part then, concerned with the real lives of real people, hence
like histories they are concerned with res
gestae. However, Press states that
Nepos distinguished biography from history as being concerned with private
rather than public deeds. Thus, bioi
share with the ancient novels an interest in individuals. But, the
individuals with whom ancient biographies are concerned were historical
characters. Ancient novels, by contrast, while they do include both historical
events and historical persons, tend towards fictional representation. In particular, the main characters in novels
are most often fictional, or historical figures who have been fictionalized. Also, characters drawn from all backgrounds
and social classes and types populate the ancient novels. Biographies and history tend to deal with
leading political or military, religious or philosophical figures. Often the narrative voice in a biography is
concerned with vouching for, or assessing in some way, the historical
reliability of the material presented and the sources from which it comes. In this aspect, biographies move towards to
pole of historia.
In terms of motivation, biographies share both the
didactic and moralistic interests of historia
and the more aesthetic and pleasure giving interests of plasma.
The gospels may be placed in contiguity and in contrast to
narratives that belong to these three broad genres. They form a sub-genre in their own right,
though they may share many of the features that are associated with bioi.
Taken as a group, like the bioi
they find their place on the continuum between the poles of historia and plasma. However, it must be
stressed that each gospel must be considered in its own right and its place on
the typological circle must be determined with reference to its own particular
features.
Luke-Acts
Susan
Praeder notes that ‘[o]f the New Testament narratives it is Luke-Acts which
most often invites comparisons to the principal three prose narrative genres of
Greco-Roman antiquity, history, biography, and novel’. The reasons for this, perhaps, are that, on
the one hand, it is difficult to assign Luke-Acts to any one genre. On the other hand, certain features such as
the prefaces, the speeches (in Acts), and the provision of dramatic scenes and
adventures appear to provide clear parallels with these three forms of ancient
narrative. Thus it will be convenient to
begin with this two part narrative as a ‘test-case’ for our thesis.
A survey of approaches to the genre
of Luke-Acts reveals a wide range of suggestions as to the genre and sub-genre
to which it belongs. Among the sub-genres of historiography, the
following have been proposed: historical monograph, either as ‘apologetic
history’ or ‘general history’ (Aune, Balch, Sterling)
with affinities to Jewish-Hellenistic types or Graeco-Roman types, ‘biblical’
history modeled upon deuteronomistic history (Schmidt),
on the margins of historiography with affinities to ‘scientific’ treatises (Alexander). Other scholars align it with ancient
biography: popular ‘aretalogical’ biography (Koester), a biography of life and
teaching of a movement founder, with a second part on lives and teaching of
followers (Talbert). Still others with the ancient novel (Pervo,
Praeder, Edwards).
Some general observations may be
made about the varying approaches taken to determining the genre of
Luke-Acts. To some extent, the
conclusions arrived at depend upon the particular features which are chosen as
the primary determinants of genre. For
some scholars, this will include a range of features of content, form, and
function. Others will privilege one
particular feature or range of features over others e.g. function over form or
content. For example, Schmidt isolates a number of
motifs and themes, the ‘promise and fulfillment’ motif, parallels between
Moses/David in deuteronomistic history and Jesus/Paul in Luke-Acts, which shows
that Luke-Acts shares the same general historiographical perspective as the deuteronomist. Sometimes broad similarities are noted, at
other times more particular correspondences become important. Another factor is the range of sample chosen,
for example, Balch chooses to compare Luke-Acts with a particular model, that
of Dionysius of Halicarnassus’ Roman
Antiquities (written about 7 BCE and used as a model by Josephus when
writing his Jewish Antiquities, at
about the same time the writer of Luke-Acts produced those works). The impression is that there is at best a
very broad match between the two.
Sometimes, Balch can only arrive at the correspondence by treating the
structure of Luke-Acts in a very general manner (in an attempt to correlate it
with the structure of Dionysius’s work) and by sometimes drawing together texts
from different parts of the work. I have
noted above (p.7) the fact that Burridge, in his treatment, only very lightly
touches on the question of the relationship between Luke and Acts. Another difficulty with his work is that he
has not raised the question whether some of the features which he characterizes
as constitutive of biographies, might not equally apply to works in other
genres as well. To give but one example,
he determines that the relative proportion of verbs with Jesus as the subject
correlates with patterns found in other Graeco-Roman biographies (a greater
proportion have Jesus as the subject than other characters) and thus this is
one feature which indicates that Luke is a biography. But the same analysis applied to the ancient
novels, might produce a similar pattern for their main characters. Might the same apply to certain of the
histories? The range of works to which
the Gospel has been compared has produced the result.
Other criticisms might be raised and
other examples of selecting the evidence might be given. However, my purpose here is not to enter into
a detailed critique of the methods of various scholars. Rather I wish to suggest that a better
approach might be to consider the features of Luke-Acts against a range of
other ancient works, from a variety of genres.
One might then wish to consider which are primary constituent features
for Luke-Acts, and which are secondary.
Or to put it another way, which features are ‘essential’ and which are
‘accidental’. One might then declare Luke-Acts most like a
particular genre (or even a specific sub-genre) while not ruling out affinities
(though secondary) with other genres.
One advantage of the typological circle is that one might place the two
parts, Luke and Acts, at slightly different points. Indeed, one might even argue that, taken as a
whole (as, in the end, I think it must be) Luke-Acts finds itself in a
situation of dynamic tension among a range of generic parallels.
What might be the primary
constituent features, the leading characteristics by which the genre of
Luke-Acts might be determined? Here I
give a somewhat random selection.
1.
Prefaces
(Luke 1.1-4; Acts 1.1): (a) formal and structural features (reference to
sources, and investigation, autopsy, dedication, vocabulary etc). These have been widely discussed, and a communis opinio has emerged that in form
and function they are similar to those found in many historiographical
works. Alexander, Preface, has made a cogent case for aligning the prefaces of
Luke-Acts with those found in scientific treatises. Whichever genre or sub-genre (historiography
–and its types – or scientific treatise) Luke-Acts most resembles, this
particular feature moves the work in the direction of the ‘ahistorical
constant’, historia. (b) The statement of author’s intention as
implied or suggested by Luke 1.1-4, also places Luke-Acts within the range of
works associated with historia. The prefaces throw up a host of difficult and
disputed exegetical and interpretative questions which cannot be entered into
here. But, at the least, Luke 1.1-4
takes the rhetorical stance that the account which follows aims at both a
careful and orderly marshaling of evidential material and a degree of
comprehensiveness. It might be broadly
described as deriving from the ‘Ionian historia-tradition’
while also including Jewish-Hellenistic features. The contents are the ‘res gestae’ of a particular and circumscribed social phenomenon:
the foundation and spread of the Christian sect.
2.
Appearance
of speeches in Acts: as a formal feature this does not necessarily help
determine genre as speeches may be found in novels and biographies, as in
histories. As a structural feature,
namely the insertion of speeches into narrative, many see this as following an
established historiographical pattern.
It might arguably be a structural pattern of the novels as well, but the
early novels (and these would have helped establish the generic character of
the genre anyway) were parasitic upon historiography anyway. The overall
intention of the work, together with the formal and structural indications
provided by the inclusion of speeches, probably suggests Luke-Acts should be
placed within the ambit of historia.
3.
Voice, as
Praeder uses it, is the manner in which a narrator attempts to assess the
‘relationship of their narrative world to real-world historical facts’. In histories and biographies, voice is strong
in that the narrators continually ‘refer to sources, give their own opinions
about historical reliability, and from conflicting source reports attempt to
reconstruct “what really happened”. The
narrators in the ancient novels do not do this, nor, generally speaking, does
the narrator of Luke-Acts. The prologue of Luke (pace Praeder) does, I think, represent an attempt to provide a form
of assessment of the reliability of the material. It certainly makes reference to sources:
other narratives of the tradition are alluded to as well as ‘eyewitnesses and
ministers of the word’ who have handed on the tradition. Is it possible that the ‘we’ passages are
intended to function implicitly as a claim to ‘autopsy’? If this were the case,
then the implied author is making claims similar to those in works of
history. Concern with chronology (Luke
3.1-2; Acts 18.12) may also indicate attempts at verification: though these are
precisely points at which modern historical scholarship has difficulties with
the narrative.
4.
Content:
events and existents, motifs and themes.
The principal characters, Jesus, Peter, Paul, are historical figures, as
are many of the ‘minor figures’, attested to in other literature, Pilate,
Gamaliel, Priscilla and Aquila, John the Baptist. Whether all the characters
are historical figures may be debated. A
feature of some ancient novels, as we have seen, is the intermixture of
historical (and ‘fictionalized’ historical figures) and fictional
characters. Some of the events and
motifs in Luke-Acts are paralleled in the ancient novels, e.g. the journey and
sea-voyages,
including storm and shipwreck, the use of toponyms,
crowd scenes,
miraculous deeds, recognition scenes, and, indeed, such events as crucifixion,
and ‘resurrection’.
The concentration on the life and
teaching of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke obviously places it in some
relationship with the genre, bioi. Further analysis is needed to determine
the specific types of bioi that it
most resembles. On the other hand, it
might be argued that the range of characters in the gospels, drawn as they are
from all backgrounds and social classes conforms to that found more in the
ancient novels than bioi.
5.
Function
(authorial intention and purpose): A variety of functions have been suggested
for Luke-Acts. Sterling sees it as an
‘apologetic history’ laying out the history of the a people (hoi christianoi),
with the intention of defining the apostolic tradition in the face of
increasing diversity within the movement and to defend its position externally vis-à-vis it relationship to the Roman
world. Pervo writes of Acts that it is written to
entertain as well as present theology and history.
Talbert sees the function of Luke-Acts as presenting the life and teaching of a
religious leader (in this is has affinities with biographies of the lives of
philosophers) and in stating where the true tradition is now present. Other functions might be added: encomiastic
(praise of a great man); didactic, informative, to preserve memory.
Many of the functions suggested for the Gospel would
situate it with other works in the historia
sector. Obviously, whether Luke-Acts
is treated as one work, or two separate works will have a bearing on the
determination of function. One might
identify primary and secondary functions: e.g. a primary function might be
information and apologetic, while a secondary one might be entertainment. The primary functions would move it in the
direction of historia and secondary
functions in the direction of plasma.
Thus,
when it comes to placing Luke-Acts (and the two parts must be considered
together) a range of characteristics would be analyzed and determinations made
as to whether these approximated to the defining characteristics of historia or of plasma (or indeed, in a fully rounded analysis, of muthos).
The present state of investigation indicates that certain features of
form, structure and content suggest that the work inhabits the sector defined
by the conventions of historia. Other features, however, show affinities with
conventions and characteristics which are associated with the sector designated
plasma. As a working hypothesis, we may state that Acts
situates closest to the ahistorical constant, historia and Luke, while sharing characteristics with the other
synoptic gospels, also moves in that direction.
Conclusion
Further
research is required before any firm conclusions can be drawn as to the genre
to which the gospels most approximate.
However, a further ‘working hypothesis’may be offered. Considered together, the canonical gospels
form a sub-genre of their own, appropriately termed euangelia (gospels).
All the gospels share same general location on the typological circle as many
types of bioi. That is, they contain generic features which,
like the bioi, place them in
proximate relationship to certain types of ancient history, and so they inhabit
the regions of historia. At the same time, again like some of the bioi, some features place them in
contiguity with ancient novels, hence they also inhabit the border regions of plasma.
In conclusion let me outline what I see to be the main
contributions of the model proposed here to a discussion of the gospels’
genre. The model provides a flexible and
open approach to the determination of a given gospel’s genre. The provision of a continuum along which
works may be ranged frees research from the need to attempt to press a gospel
into the confines of a particular genre, or into association with selected
works within a particular genre. The
concept of the dynamization of narratives within generic boundaries and among
generic types, recognizes that a narrative may display features which find
parallels in other narratives that themselves belong individually to different
genres. It also provides for the fact
that genres are themselves capacious.
Furthermore, it allows for the fact that different readers may make
different judgments about the genre to which a narrative belongs.
Nonetheless, the provision of ideal
ahistorical constants (or ‘poles’ on the circular continuum) allows for a
broadly conceived set of characteristics which indicate the essential features
of different genres. Individual narratives
may be situated in relationship to these ahistorical constants and in
relationship to each other in the light of these constants. Generic subtypes are formed by the manner in
which individual narratives ‘cluster’ on the typological circle and the ‘gravitational
pull’ related narratives have on each other.
A group of narratives form a sub-genre as an analysis of their content,
form and function shows that there is a ‘family resemblance’ among them. Hence,
the four canonical gospel share a family resemblance with each other, yet each
one will locate on the typological circle at a different point from the
others. Luke-Acts, I suggest, situates
at a point closer to the historia pole than the other gospels, and, of the two
parts, Acts may show more features which tend towards that pole than Luke.
That the three ahistorical constants
are founded upon the question of the referential status of narratives is
important for two reasons. First, it is
argued here, the question of referential status is a fundamental category under
which readers determine the genre of a given narrative. Second, analysis of features of content, form
and function is often not sufficient of itself to decide the issue of a
narrative’s genre. Many such features
may appear in narratives that must be assigned to different genres. All ancient
narratives contain generic elements which are indicative of plasma (and
even elements which tend to put them in the ambit of muthos). Of course, one might seek to determine whether the generic
characteristics a narrative displays that tend towards historia, predominate
over those that tend towards plasma. But at some point the reader must move beyond
analysis of content, form and function to the question of a narrative’s
referential intention. Application of
speech act theory to literary works will be helpful here. While all narratives
share the same types of illocutionary and perlocutionary force,
what sets ‘fictional’ narrative (plasma)
off from real-world ‘historical’ narrative (historia)
is the context within which the locutions are performed. That is, ‘fictional’ narrative operates under
the prior convention that the ‘world’ within which the locutions appear is a
‘pretended one’ and, hence, the speech acts are ‘pretended speech acts’. The dominating features of each ahistorical
constant provide the generic conventions by which readers decide the literary
context in which the locutions are being performed.
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de Sint-Pietersabdij Steenbrugge Martinus Nijhoff International, The
Hague], pp. 465-479.
Addendum (2020)
The Story
of a Paper.
The genesis of
this paper is found in an appendix to my 1997 book, Narrative Art and Act in
the Fourth Gospel (see p. 273). In 1998, I had the privilege of a
sabbatical leave when I was based at the Center of Theological Inquiry,
Princeton, New Jersey. I decided I would try to “flesh out” my idea of a
typological circle of ancient narrative genres. The results of my efforts are
found in the paper above.
Unfortunately, at the end of my time
there, I came to the realization that a truly proper examination and substantiation
of my ideas, would require a survey and good knowledge of ancient genres. Not
only is this a huge task, but well beyond my capabilities as a scholar. I am
not a classicist for a start.
I lost heart, somewhat, and felt
that even working up what I had done for publication would really require much
more work. Inevitably, other commitments and other projects took my time. This
paper has been lying “dormant” for a long time (over 20 years!).
However, I still think that parts of it have merit: in particular the idea of a
typological circle along the lines described in the paper.
There has been much work done on the
genre of the gospels in the interim period. A number of scholars have
considered the gospels in the light of the ancient novel, for instance. This is
not to mention further work, for instance, on Luke-Acts and ancient history,
let alone considerations of ancient historiography in general. Even an
extension of this paper, drawing upon secondary literature, would be a huge
task. But, perhaps there will be some who will find the model proposed here
useful for heuristic purposes; someone may even wish to develop the model?
In more recent times, however, I
have found myself questioning whether establishing the genre of a work is
really as important as we sometimes think. Readers are probably able to make
good sense of a work on the basis of a reading on its own terms. Provided they
can reasonably follow the flow of the text, and make sense of the content, they
will most probably be able to get the essence of the author’s intent. Of
course, the more exegetical skills, or interpretive capacity, and general
skills as a reader, the reader has, the better.
But, being absolutely certain of the genre is not perhaps as important as
sometimes thought. Furthermore, as gospel studies show, a reader will often
bring their own perceptions of a works genre to their reading, or their own
knowledge of other generic types. So, for instance, where one sees affinities
between a gospel and an ancient bioi, another will detect affinities
with an ancient romance (novel).
Where determining the genre becomes
important is when one asks the question about the “truth” of what one is
reading. In other words, a reader may become concerned, or interested to know
whether he or she is reading “fiction” or “fact”. What is this work’s
relationship to ostensive reality and to history? But, especially when it comes
to the gospels, that is a large, and much-debated question. In the diagrams
above, and in my discussion, I have placed the gospels within the field of Historia,
but lying along the circumference in the direction of Plasma. Some may
wish to move one or more (e.g. John’s Gospel?) across the border, as it were,
more into the realm of Plasma. I have attempted to make a case for
seeing the gospels (more particularly the Fourth Gospel) as essentially having
the function of referring to historical, real world events (while possibly
writing it up with what might be considered “fictional” elements e.g. the
encounter with Nicodemus?), in my book Narrative Art and Act in the Fourth
Gospel. And see now, also, Jesus, Story of God: John’s Story of Jesus (Hindmarsh:
ATF, 2007), especially pp. 159–173.
I am not sure whether I will get
around to developing this model further. In the meantime, anyone who wishes to
pick up on the current state of scholarship on ancient historiography, and on
the study of Luke-Acts in regards to this, might begin with the recent article
by John J. Peters, “Luke’s Source Claims in the Context of Ancient
Historiography”, Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus 18/1
(2020), 35–60.
 |
| This alternative diagram of Figure 3 (showing the place of the gospels on a typological circle of genres is an attempt to (very crudely) represent where they might place on a spherical type model. One might imagine these clusters of genres as constellations in a universe of galaxies e.g. Thucydides might sit near the epicentre of an "Historia" cluster, while Luke-Acts gravitates towards that cluster. These clusters might move somewhat between the sectors of Historia, Plasma, and Muthos (of Mythos), and individual works might be placed differently in regards to both generic "clusters" and to the sectors. |
The term ‘ideal’ is applied by classicists to the ancient (Greek)
love romances in contrast to the comic romances (mostly found in Latin, though
one is probably based on a Greek original), see B.E. Perry, The Ancient Romances (Berkeley & Los
Angeles: University of California Press, 1967), pp. vi-vii; and T.
Hägg, The Novel in Antiquity (Berkeley
& Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1983), p. 4, and chapter
2. These ‘ideal’ romances are used here
as paradigmatic of the ‘plasmatic’ form. However, a complete analysis of works
that are found within the sphere of plasma
will need to include the comic romances and other narratives, such as those
mentioned below, as well. There are five
complete novels of love and adventure extant: Chariton, Chaereas and Callirhoe; Xenophon
of Ephesus, An Ephesian Tale; Longus,
Daphnis and Chloe; Achilles Tatius, Leucippe and Clitophon; Heliodorus, An Ethiopian Tale. In addition, there are fragments of a number
of others; and there are a number of other works which are sometimes classed as
novels (though ‘romanticized biographies’ might be another designation) e.g.
Pseudo-Callisthenes, Alexander Romance; Xenophon
of Athens, Cyropaedia; Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana. Of the five extant complete novels, only Chareas and Callirhoe, and possibly An Ephesian Tale are contemporaneous
with the gospels. A number of the
fragments are also considered to date to the first century BCE, or the first century
CE. Philostratus’ Life of Apollonius of Tyana is often compared with the gospels on
account of the subject matter, which might be described as an ‘aretalogical’
life of the neo-Pythagorean philosopher and holy man, Apollonius (but the date
of this work is early 3rd
century CE). Translations of
these novels may be found in B.P. Reardon, ed. Collected Ancient Greek Novels (Berkeley & Los Angeles:
University of California Press, 1989); and the fragments in S. Stephens &
J.J. Winkler, eds., Ancient Greek Novels:
The Fragments (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1995).
