John in the Bible: Life, Death & Interesting Facts

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The Apostle John is traditionally known as one of Jesus’ original twelve disciples and a member of his inner circle. Yet, despite his high status among the apostles and his close relationship with Jesus, much about John remains shrouded in mystery — including whether he actually authored the Gospel that bears his name.

Who was John in the Bible? In this article, I’ll explore what the Bible says about John, how he came to be viewed as a foundational leader in the early church, and whether he could have written one of the theologically richest texts in the Christian canon.

Who Was John in the Bible?

In the New Testament, John is said to have been one of Jesus’ original disciples. He was both a disciple, a follower of a wise person, and an apostle, one who is sent, in that Jesus sent him to preach the gospel to the world.

His name, in his native Aramaic language, would have been Yochanan which means “Yahweh is gracious.” The Greek form, since Greek is the language of the New Testament, was Iōannēs. This was a common Jewish name in Jesus’ time, so this was not the only instance of a John in the Bible. There are several other prominent Johns in the New Testament besides the apostle, including John the Baptist, John Mark (Acts 12:12), and John of Patmos, who wrote the book of Revelation.

John the Apostle is first referred to, chronologically speaking, in Mark 3:17 where Jesus calls his original 12 disciples, who are said to include “James son of Zebedee and John the brother of James (to whom he gave the name Boanerges, that is, Sons of Thunder).” Unfortunately, we are never told why Jesus calls the brothers this, only that he did.

As we’ll see, in Matthew, Jesus first encounters John in the Bible by the sea of Galilee. Since most ancient people lived and died in one area, he was probably born and raised in Galilee, the same region where Jesus was from. He was probably also born around the turn of the 1st century CE, like Jesus, although he is traditionally said to have been the youngest apostle.

Matthew 4:21 gives us a bit more information about John in the Bible: “Going on from there, He [Jesus] saw two other brothers, James the son of Zebedee, and John his brother, in the boat with Zebedee their father, mending their nets.” So John was apparently a fisherman, as were his brother and their father. It was the family business, so to speak. Luke 5:10 says that Simon Peter was their partner in the endeavor.

Alicia Batten writes that the life of a fisherman in Jesus’ time, a time when Israel was controlled economically by the Roman Empire, was no picnic.

Don’t get the wrong idea, though, from my use of the word “business” above. Fishermen were very poor, usually living hand to mouth, and therefore almost certainly uneducated. More on that later.

Oddly enough, the Gospel of John makes no explicit mention of John the Apostle, although it does mention unnamed “sons of Zebedee.” The Beloved Disciple, found only in the Gospel of John and traditionally assumed to be John, is never actually named.

We are also shown in the Synoptic Gospels that John in the Bible was one of the most prominent disciples, along with his brother James and Peter. How do we know this? Jesus sets these three apart for special experiences with him. In Mark 9:2-10, for example, Jesus specifically takes James, John, and Peter with him to the top of a mountain where his glory is revealed only to them, an episode known as the Transfiguration.

Similarly, in the Garden of Gethsemane before Jesus is arrested, Mark 14:33-34 says that he tells most of the disciples to sit and pray while he goes to another place to pray himself. However, he doesn’t go alone:

Even in his greatest anguish, Jesus wanted these three with him. Whether or not these incidents are historical, they indicate that John in the Bible was considered one of the most important apostles in the early Church.

Even Paul mentions the importance of these three in the Jerusalem church, saying this in Galatians 2:9:

Not only did Paul meet John the Apostle, but he recognized that John was one of the “acknowledged leaders” of the church (Galatians 2:2).

How did John die? Church tradition has long said that John was the only one of the 12 disciples who was not martyred. However, since we don’t have any historical information on him after Paul’s letter to the Galatians (written between the late 40s and early 50s CE), we really can’t know how or when he died. Nevertheless, if John in the Bible was around the same age as Jesus, he died sometime after the early 50s, making him at least 50 years old at his death.

Let’s summarize what we know so far: John the Apostle was the brother of James and the son of Zebedee, he was a fisherman living in Galilee when he met Jesus, who called him and his brother “Sons of Thunder,” although the Gospels never say why. Finally, he was one of the three most important leaders of the early church after Jesus’ death, acknowledged by Paul as such and by the Gospels as having been present at some of the most important moments of Jesus’ life.

Did John the Apostle Write the Gospel of John?

Church tradition has long held that John the Apostle was the author of the Gospel of John. Additionally, as I mentioned above, he has often been assumed to be the unnamed Beloved Disciple who is so favorably mentioned in the Gospel. But is this accurate? What evidence do we have to prove or disprove this theory?

There are several reasons for thinking that the Apostle John could not have written the Gospel of John. First, the Gospel of John, like the other three Gospels, was originally written anonymously, with the title added much later. How do we know this? In The Women's Bible Commentary, Carol Newsom notes that the oldest manuscripts we have of John contain no title or authorial information. Again, like the other Gospels, the author did not apparently care about claiming authorship. We’ll talk below about how later people ascribed the book to John.

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Second, it is highly unlikely that a Galilean fisherman in Jesus’ time would have been literate. In her book Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, Catherine Hezser, who wrote the definitive study on the topic, concludes that Jewish literacy in Jesus’ time hovered around 3%. That is, only 3% of all Jews in Palestine could read and/or write in their own language of Aramaic. Who would those 3% have been? They would certainly have been the elite, the wealthiest citizens who could afford an education and who had the leisure time to learn. The vast majority of other Palestinian Jews lived as poor laborers, John the Apostle included. It is therefore highly unlikely that he would have had the necessary knowledge to write a book.

Given that, is it likely that St. John could have not only written a book but written it in Greek? While we have some Aramaic writings from Palestine in the time of Jesus, we have no Greek writings written by Palestinian Jews during Jesus’ lifetime. In fact, Bart Ehrman points out that we only have one set of writings in Greek by a Palestinian Jew, the historian Josephus, from the entire 1st century CE. Josephus was from that top 3% class and even he admits it was difficult for him to learn Greek.

Ehrman also points out that even if John had learned some functional Greek on later missionary journeys, this would surely not have been sufficient to write an entire book in Greek. Writing a book requires years of schooling and, as I pointed out, John probably had none. How then, did Christians come to believe that John the Apostle had written the fourth Gospel?

How an Anonymous Gospel Became The Gospel of St. John

In the Gospel of John, there are several references to “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (John 13:23, 19:26, 20:2, 21:7, 20). In John 21:24, the author writes this about this Beloved Disciple: “This is the disciple who is testifying to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true.” Note that he doesn’t say that the disciple himself is the author of the book. Rather, the author says he used this disciple’s stories as source material, and that “we” — presumably the Christian community for whom the book was written — trust the word of this disciple.

But since the Beloved Disciple is never named, later Christians were forced to speculate about who he was. While the Gospel of John never even mentioned John the Apostle by name, the other Gospels and Paul did. As I pointed out earlier, John in the Bible was part of Jesus’ inner circle in the Gospels. Christians, knowing that Peter was not the Beloved Disciple since they were distinguished from each other in John’s Gospel, were left with either James or John as possibilities. However, they thought it probably wasn’t James because according to Acts 12:1-2, James was martyred quite early in the history of the church. Therefore, the Beloved Disciple must have been John.

The first Christian author to claim this was Irenaeus in his work Against Heresies, written around 185 CE (a little over a century after the Gospel of John was written). Scholars disagree about whether this Beloved Disciple was a real person or a real disciple of Jesus. According to Bart Ehrman, they also differ on whether the Beloved Disciple was the author of the Gospel of John, although Ehrman believes that he was not.

Whatever the case, John the Apostle was certainly a real person, and we can be reasonably sure that he did not write the Gospel of John.

Conclusion

There is very little we can say with absolute certainty about the Apostle John. He was probably a fisherman from rural Galilee and thus spoke Aramaic. As a poor fisherman, he would have received no formal education and would thus have been illiterate like 97% of the Jewish population of 1st-century Palestine. The Synoptic Gospels say that he, along with his brother James, became a disciple of Jesus and formed part of Jesus’ inner circle, along with his brother James and Peter. We can confirm this by Paul’s testimony about John in the Bible, which mentioned that these three parties were considered the “pillars” of the early church.

He has been assumed for many years to be the author of the document we know as the Gospel of John. However, there are good reasons for thinking that this is improbable. First, the book was actually written anonymously. Second, an Aramaic-speaking fisherman would have been illiterate even in his own language. Furthermore, even if he had been literate, he would not have been able to write a book in Greek, a language he probably didn’t know.

Despite this, more than a century after the book was written, Christians were ascribing the book to John the Apostle. They also identified him with the Beloved Disciple written about only in John. In these stories and speculations about him, John in the Bible lives on.

Matthew in the Bible: Life, Death & Interesting Facts

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Most readers assume that the Gospel of Matthew is the earliest of the four Gospels simply because it appears first in the New Testament. However, this order reflects not chronology but status. The Gospel of Matthew gained immense popularity in the early Church due to its careful structure, extensive teaching content, andJewish-Christian orientation. 

But behind its prestige lies a deeper mystery: Who was Matthew in the Bible? What can we, as historians, say about his life, identity, and the tradition that connects him to this foundational text?

In what follows, we’ll explore Matthew in the Bible in two dimensions: As a figure who briefly appears in the New Testament narrative and as the name traditionally attached to one of Christianity’s most influential texts. 

We’ll trace how the early Church came to associate the apostle with the Gospel, examine why modern scholars reject that attribution, and review what historical evidence (if any) exists for Matthew’s life and death.

In the end, the story of Matthew (both the man and the Gospel) is as much about the shaping of cultural memory as it is about history.

However, before we embark on our pursuit to uncover the identity of Matthew, readers interested in the broader landscape of Gospel origins should check out Dr. Bart D. Ehrman’s course The Unknown Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. In eight engaging 30-minute lessons, Dr. Ehrman explores how these foundational texts emerged, navigating the boundaries between history, myth, and tradition.

Who Was Matthew in the Bible: A Brief Overview

Matthew in the Bible is mentioned only a handful of times, yet his name has become one of the most recognizable in Christian tradition. 

In the Gospel of Matthew (9:9), he is introduced as a tax collector sitting at a toll booth, whom Jesus calls to follow him: “As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax booth; and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him.”

Matthew is then listed among the twelve disciples in Matthew 10:3. Interestingly, the Gospel of Mark (2:14) and the Gospel of Luke (5:27-29) narrate the same calling story but refer to the tax collector as “Levi,” not Matthew. Both of these Gospels also include lists of the Twelve, and in those lists, the name Matthew appears, but without any mention of Levi.

This discrepancy has long puzzled scholars and sparked debates about whether Matthew and Levi were the same person, different individuals, or the result of redactional decisions made by later Gospel writers.

John P. Meier favors the last option. He notes:

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Despite the level of uncertainty that Meier affirms, the Matthew-Levi identification became largely accepted within Christian tradition, which brings us to our next question: How did St. Matthew become the evangelist? 

The traditional attribution of the first Gospel to Matthew the apostle arises not from the Gospel text itself but from early Christian writings, particularly those of the 2nd century.

One of the earliest (possible) references is found in the writings of Papias, bishop of Hierapolis, whose statement is preserved by the 4th century historian Eusebius. As Mark A. Powell explains in Introducing the New Testament:

Papias’ comment was interpreted by later figures such as Irenaeus, writing toward the end of the 2nd century, as solid evidence that the apostle Matthew had composed the only of the four Gospels that mention “Matthew” as the tax collector. 

In his work Against Heresies (3.1.1), Irenaeus confidently stated that “Matthew also issued a written Gospel among the Hebrews in their own dialect, while Peter and Paul were preaching at Rome, and laying the foundations of the Church.”

Such affirmations reflect an emerging tendency in the early Church to ascribe apostolic authorship to texts that held theological and liturgical authority within the community. The association between Matthew the apostle and the Gospel attributed to him would become foundational for centuries of Christian thought. However, that wouldn’t last forever!

Matthew in the Bible: Assessing the Traditional Theory

At the end of the 16th century, as Europe was shaken by profound social and religious transformations, the French philosopher Michel de Montaigne perceptively documented the rising tensions within society. Reflecting on the religious wars that tore through families and communities, he wrote:

The centuries that followed (particularly the Enlightenment) saw the rise of secular approaches to religious texts. For the first time, Christian Scripture was subjected to historical and literary scrutiny, and long-standing assumptions, such as the apostolic authorship of the Gospel of Matthew, began to be questioned in earnest.

Today, most critical scholars reject the traditional theory that Matthew in the Bible — the tax collector — was the author of the Gospel that bears his name. 

One of the most basic but essential observations is that the Gospel itself is anonymous. Nowhere does the text identify its author by name, not even in the passage that introduces Matthew as a character (Matt. 9:9). The narrative remains in the third person throughout.

A key turning point in modern scholarship came with the recognition that the Gospel of Matthew used the Gospel of Mark as one of its primary sources. Through careful redactional and literary analysis, scholars such as A. M. Honore and Robert H. Stein have demonstrated that over 90% of Mark’s content appears in the Gospel of Matthew, often with high levels of verbal agreement.

This raises a significant question: Could someone who personally followed Jesus rely so heavily on a text written by someone like Mark — who, according to tradition, wasn’t an eyewitness? In other words, it seems improbable that an eyewitness would borrow so extensively from a second-hand source.

The tradition, as noted in the previous section, traces back to Papias, who stated that Matthew compiled the sayings of Jesus in the “Hebrew dialect.” However, our current Gospel of Matthew wasn’t written in Hebrew or Aramaic but in Greek.

Moreover, it’s not a mere collection of sayings (like the hypothetical Q source might have been) but a fully developed narrative Gospel, complete with infancy stories, a structured passion account, and carefully arranged teaching blocks.

Additionally, the style and vocabulary indicate that the author was a highly literate Greek-speaking Christian with a deep understanding of Jewish scripture in its Greek form (the Septuagint). 

This is difficult to reconcile with what we know (or rather, what little we know) about Matthew in the Bible. 

He was a telōnēs, a tax collector likely tasked with door-to-door revenue collection or toll booth duties in Roman Galilee. There is no historical basis to assume that such a person would have received the kind of literary education required to compose a sophisticated Greek narrative of this magnitude.

Dutch Reformed theologian Herman N. Ridderbos summed up the arguments in the following way:

While the traditional theory linking the apostle to the Gospel has been largely set aside, this doesn’t mean we are left entirely in the dark. In the next section, we’ll explore what can be said about the author of the Gospel of Matthew, not the tax collector mentioned in the Bible, but the anonymous writer who shaped one of Christianity’s most influential texts.

Who Was Matthew in the Bible?

The name “Matthew” became associated not only with one of Jesus’ twelve disciples but also with one of the most influential Gospels in the New Testament. Yet, beyond his fleeting appearances in the biblical text, what do we truly know about him?

In what follows, we’ll explore what can be known (or at least plausibly inferred) about the life and death of Matthew in the Bible, drawing on both biblical references and early Christian traditions.

Matthew in the Bible: Birth and Life

When it comes to the birth of the author of the Gospel of Matthew, the historical record is silent. Unlike some key figures in early Christianity (such as Paul, whose background is partially accessible through both his letters and Acts), there are no biographical details in the New Testament about where the author of Matthew was born or raised. 

Later traditions attempted to fill in this void, locating his origins in places such as Capernaum or even Antioch, but these accounts are speculative and stem from much later centuries. As such, scholars today uniformly agree that there is no reliable historical data regarding the birthplace or early life of the person responsible for the Gospel of Matthew.

Regardless of the naming issue (Matthew-Levi?), the story of Matthew’s acceptance of Jesus’ call is very memorable: Matthew is a tax collector, a profession regarded with suspicion and even contempt in 1st century Jewish society. Yet, Jesus’ call overrides social stigma and draws him into the circle of followers.

This raises an important question: Was Matthew merely a disciple, or was he also an apostle? As John P. Meier explains in A Marginal Jew, the category of “disciple” in the Gospels refers broadly to those whom Jesus calls and who choose to follow him.

Meier outlines two basic conditions for becoming a disciple: 

#1 – Jesus must take the initiative in calling the individual.
#2 – The person must literally leave behind home and possessions to follow. 

The category “apostle” is more specific, referring to the twelve men chosen by Jesus to represent the twelve tribes of Israel and to participate in his mission symbolically and organizationally. 

Matthew, listed among the Twelve in all three Synoptic Gospels (Matt 10:3; Mark 3:18; Luke 6:15), is thus considered both a disciple and an apostle.

What can we say, then, about his cultural background and the broader contours of his life? Virtually all scholars agree that the Matthew who appears in the Bible was of Jewish origin. So was the author of the Gospel! 

As William Davies and Dale Allison emphasize in their commentary, the Gospel of Matthew displays a pervasive Jewish character: It’s saturated with quotations from the Hebrew Bible, it shows a deep concern for the Law, and its theological motifs often emerge from debates within Jewish tradition.

R. T. France, in his book Matthew: Evangelist and Teacher, likewise highlights the Gospel’s profound engagement with Jewish identity and its tensions with emerging Christian self-understanding. 

Though there are harsh criticisms of the Pharisees and Jewish leadership, these shouldn’t be taken as evidence of Gentile authorship. Rather, they reflect the polemical tone of intra-Jewish disputes in the late 1st century.

As for the Gospel’s place of composition, scholarly opinion has varied over time, but the most likely candidates are cities with vibrant Jewish-Christian communities in the Eastern Mediterranean. Antioch in Syria has long been favored due to its early Christian prominence and proximity to Judaism, though, as R. T. France notes, the evidence remains circumstantial.

How Did Matthew Die?

When it comes to biblical clues about the death of the author of the Gospel of Matthew, historians find none. The New Testament offers no indication of how or where this individual died, nor does it provide any information about the later stages of his life. 

Unlike figures such as Paul or Peter, whose deaths are at least hinted at, the Gospel writer known as Matthew leaves no biographical trace beyond the text itself. As a result, we have no historical data concerning his fate.

However, later Christian tradition didn’t remain content with this silence. Over the centuries, a number of legends emerged surrounding the death of St. Matthew. These legends, of course, (wrongly) assume that the apostle and the Gospel author were one and the same. 

The most widespread version of the story appears in hagiographical texts such as the Acts of Matthew and in later medieval compilations like the Golden Legend. According to these accounts, Matthew traveled to distant lands (often named as Ethiopia or Persia) to preach the Gospel.

In one popular version, he is said to have converted the daughter and wife of a local king, which enraged the ruler. As a result, Matthew was martyred while celebrating the Eucharist at the altar. Referring to this narrative, Hans-Josef Klauck explains:

While these stories are rich in narrative detail and reflect the theological values of the communities that produced them, they aren’t historically reliable.

Scholars agree that these legends were written many generations after Matthew's time and contain numerous anachronisms, miraculous embellishments, and literary tropes common to other apostolic martyrdom stories.

Conclusion

The figure of Matthew in the Bible remains enigmatic. While he appears briefly in the Gospel narratives as a tax collector called to discipleship and listed among the Twelve, the historical trail quickly fades. The Gospel attributed to him, though central to Christian tradition, offers no internal claim to apostolic authorship.

Modern scholarship has shown that the Gospel’s sophisticated literary structure, reliance on Greek sources like Mark, and theological depth all point to a highly educated, anonymous Jewish-Christian author writing in the latter part of the 1st century.

And yet, the memory of Matthew the apostle endured and evolved through tradition, legend, and liturgical devotion.

What we encounter in both text and tradition isn’t a fully recoverable biography, but a layered figure shaped by tradition, legends, and the early Church’s desire to root its foundational texts in apostolic witness. In the end, the historical Matthew didn’t end up making history. The remembered Matthew did! 

The Prostitute in the Bible: Name, Verses, and The Real Story

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Although many people know there is one prostitute in the Bible, that there are more mentioned is less common knowledge. The portrayal of prostitutes in the Bible often sparks curiosity and debate. Some of these figures are symbolic of faith and redemption, while others are used to convey moral lessons. In the Bible, we encounter women whose roles as sex workers complicate their identities and challenge conventional views of righteousness. Yet when examining these stories, a deeper investigation of cultural contexts and historical interpretations reveals a more complex picture.

In this article, I’ll explore these intriguing stories, examining how the Bible depicts prostitutes, the real historical context of their lives, and how their stories challenge or reinforce ancient social and religious norms

Beyond a Prostitute in the Bible: Prostitution in the Ancient World

When it comes to academic studies of prostitution in the ancient world, there is a fair amount of controversy. In general, academics of the past divided prostitutes into two types. The first of these were cultic or sacred prostitutes. These were thought to be women who engaged in ritual sexual activity in temples dedicated to a deity.

Ancient historian Herodotus, for example, wrote of this practice at the Temple of the goddess Ishtar in Babylon. He mentioned how all women in Babylon were required to sit at least once in Ishtar’s temple and "expose themselves to a stranger" for money. Herodotus found this deplorable. Similarly, the Greek geographer Strabo wrote that in Persia, girls as young as 12 were dedicated to cultic prostitution. But is this accurate?

In their article “With This Body I Thee Worship: Sacred Prostitution in Antiquity,” classicists Mary Beard and J. Henderson are skeptical. They write that it is more likely that accounts like those of Herodotus and Strabo are either misinterpretations of sacred institutions or simply lies meant to defame the respective civilizations. Furthermore, in her book The Myth of Sacred Prostitution in Antiquity, Stephanie Budin writes that the idea of sacred prostitution “has come into being as a result of more than 2,000 years of misinterpretations, false assumptions, and faulty methodology” by scholars.

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The second type of ancient prostitution is the kind which, in some ways, still exists today: secular prostitution for money. Rebecca Denova writes that, in ancient Israel, prostitution was not technically considered a sin. The reason for this begins with the fact that in the law of Moses, as in most civilizations of the ancient Near East, women were considered property. They belonged to their fathers until they were given to a husband under a marriage contract. Prostitutes, however, since they were not under any such marriage contract, were not violating any law by having sex, even with married men.

However, Denova is quick to point out that despite this, prostitutes were definitely at the bottom of the social ladder in ancient Israel. Nevertheless, the Bible has several stories about prostitutes who serve God’s purpose despite their profession. Having established some background, I’ll now look into a few of the prominent biblical characters who are prostitutes

Prostitutes in the Bible

Rahab

Rahab is the name of the prostitute in the Bible associated with the Book of Joshua. In chapter 2, the Israelite leader Joshua sends two spies into the city of Jericho to get information on its defenses before the Israelites attack it. Without mentioning how they met her, verse 1 says the two spies “went and entered the house of a prostitute whose name was Rahab and spent the night there.” As you can see, the verse is quite vague, not detailing whether they were Rahab’s clients or merely lodged with her.

However, the king of Jericho finds out that Rahab is harboring foreign spies. The king accordingly sends a message to her, ordering her to send the spies out so that they can be captured. Rahab hides the men, telling the king that they have already gone. She cleverly encourages the king’s men to pursue the spies, sending them in the wrong direction.

When the king’s men are gone, Rahab takes them to the roof, where she hides them again under stalks of flax. She later speaks to them, requesting mercy when the Israelites conquer the city:

The spies are only too happy to comply. They ask her to tie a red thread over her door, a sign which will prevent Israelite conquerors from attacking her and her family, after which Rahab lets them out of her window on a rope since her dwelling is within the closed city walls of Jericho.

Since the Israelites are the heroes of Joshua, it seems Rahab is righteous despite her profession. Note, though, that she (understandably) only protects the spies out of fear for her safety and that of her family. Of course, the Israelites are also brutal conquerors throughout the book of Joshua, so it’s actually hard to find any moral high ground.

Gomer

An arguably much stranger story is told of a prostitute in the Bible that appears in the  prophetic book of Hosea. In Hosea 1:2-3, we see this about the beginning of Hosea’s prophetic calling:

It's clear from this passage that God is using this marriage and the resulting family merely to symbolize for the Israelites how unfaithful they have been to him by worshipping other gods. In other words, in this analogy, Israel is the prostitute and God the husband. In addition, Hosea and Gomer go on to produce children with ominous names: Jezreel (God sows) to indicate that God will cut down Israel as one cuts down the crops in the field, Lo-ruhamah (not pitied) to indicate the lack of pity God will have for them when he tears them down, and Lo-ammi (not my son), to indicate how he has cut Israel off from his affections.

Hosea then divorces Gomer for infidelity, using this at God’s behest to symbolize God’s “divorce” from Israel. Later, however, Hosea seeks Gomer out again. This time, she is enslaved to someone, and Hosea is forced to buy her back. He does so, but then refrains from sex with her for a long time, symbolizing that Israel will have no king for a prolonged period.

What is most disturbing about this story is the cavalier attitude with which God — and Hosea at God’s request — treats Gomer. Because of her profession and lowly social status, it is clear that her life means nothing more than a symbol of unfaithfulness and degradation. She has no personal agency, a condition which likely mirrors that of most prostitutes in the ancient world.

Mary Magdalene

While prostitution is referred to generally in the New Testament (see Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 6:15-20, for example), only one character is later called a prostitute. Mary Magdalene, while only appearing in a few verses in the Gospels, is clearly a key figure in the early church. This is a description of her in one of the Gospels.

In addition, both Matthew and John say that Mary was present at Jesus’ crucifixion and all four Gospels say she was at Jesus’ empty tomb, an early witness to his resurrection. She was probably a real person and was certainly highly-regarded by early Christians. So why is it that she is often considered most famous for being a prostitute in the Bible, despite no NT book actually saying that?

In Women in Scripture: A Dictionary of Named and Unnamed Women in the Hebrew Bible, the Apocryphal/Deuterocanonical Books, and the New Testament, Carol Meyers writes that this myth has its origins in a sermon given in 591 CE by Pope Gregory I. In this sermon, the Pope mistakenly conflated three distinct biblical characters: Mary Magdalene, Mary of Bethany, and the unnamed sinful woman in Luke 7:36-50 who anoints Jesus’ feet.

Ever after, stories about Mary’s life as a sex worker circulated throughout Christendom, seeming all the more powerful since Jesus allowed her to be part of his inner circle. While we don’t know a lot about Mary’s background, there is absolutely nothing in our sources to indicate that she was ever a prostitute.

Conclusion

In the ancient Near East, prostitution was a common, albeit low-status profession. While there was a long-standing myth of temple prostitution in which women served a deity by performing ritual sex acts in that deity’s temple, most scholars today doubt the meaning, if not the sheer veracity, of ancient accounts of these practices.

In ancient Israel, since women were considered property, first of their fathers and then of their husbands, prostitutes did not technically violate any social codes by having sex with married men since they were under no such social contracts. However, it is clear that they were considered the lowest of the low in society and that they had little to no power or individual agency over their lives.

The Hebrew Bible contains a couple of prominent stories involving prostitutes. Rahab, in the book of Joshua, is a prostitute in Jericho who takes in Israelite spies and helps them escape from the king. While she is often presented as a righteous woman for helping the Israelites, it is clear from the biblical text that her help was an act of self-preservation. By helping the coming conquerors, she was able to secure the lives of herself and her family when Israel razed the city.

Gomer, on the other hand, was a hapless prostitute in the Bible from the book of Hosea.  God uses her as a symbol of degradation and corruption in order to send a message to Israel. God makes Hosea marry and father children with her, explaining that in this analogy, Gomer is Israel. Like a prostitute, Israel is unfaithful to her “husband.” The story is troubling in that Gomer’s own life and welfare are treated as expendable and valueless.

Finally, we have the story of Mary Magdalene in the Gospels. Although one passage in Luke says Jesus had removed “seven devils” from her, it says nothing about her being a sex worker. However, a mistaken sermon in the 6th century CE mixed up Mary Magdalene with Mary of Bethany and a sinful woman who anoints Jesus’ feet. Afterwards, stories circulated about Mary’s life of prostitution before she met Jesus. However, there is no evidence in our sources that this ever happened.

The Parable of the Good Samaritan: Summary, Verses, and Lesson

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

If you ever find yourself in Saint Petersburg, Russia, visiting the renowned Hermitage Museum is well worth your time. Among its vast collection of masterpieces, you’ll find a striking painting by the Dutch artist Jan Wijnants (1632-1684), simply titled Parable of the Good Samaritan.

The scene is both dramatic and evocative: A wounded traveler lies on the ground, vulnerable and in desperate need of help, while another figure leans over him, offering aid. Even without knowing the biblical story, the painting itself speaks to something deeply human — compassion and altruism. 

This visual depiction captures the essence of a parable that has echoed through centuries of moral and ethical thought. The parable of the good Samaritan is more than just a Biblical passage. It has become a cultural touchstone, referenced in literature, legal traditions, and even modern healthcare ethics.

And yet, for all its widespread recognition, few stop to consider the historical and social layers beneath the story.

Where is this parable located in the New Testament? What is the meaning behind this powerful story? Can we even determine whether the historical Jesus actually spoke these words, or is this a later addition to the Gospel tradition? These are the kinds of questions we’ll explore in this article. So, stay tuned!

For those fascinated by the historical complexities of the Gospels (how they were written, who authored them, and whether they preserve authentic traditions of Jesus), Bart D. Ehrman’s course, The Unknown Gospels, offers a deep scholarly exploration. In it, he examines the earliest Gospel traditions, shedding light on their authorship, dating, and historical reliability. If you want to understand how stories like the Parable of the Good Samaritan took shape over time, this course is an excellent place to start.

Parable of the Good Samaritan: Summary

The New Testament contains four Gospels, but they don’t all share the same stories about Jesus and his public ministry. According to the widely accepted Four-Document Hypothesis, both the Gospels of Luke and Matthew drew from the Gospel of Mark as one of their primary sources.

However, they also incorporated material from other sources that haven’t survived. One such lost source is commonly referred to as Q (from the German Quelle, meaning “source”), which is believed to have contained a collection of Jesus' sayings.

Additionally, both Luke and Matthew include unique material not found in any other Gospel. The Parable of the Good Samaritan is an example of such unique material. It appears only in the Gospel of Luke (Luke 10:25-37) and is absent from the other three Gospels.

The parable is introduced within a broader narrative in which Jesus is engaged in a discussion with a legal expert, often identified as a scribe or lawyer. The expert asks Jesus a fundamental question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Instead of providing a direct answer, Jesus responds with a counter-question: “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” The expert correctly summarizes the Jewish law by citing two key commandments: To love God with all one's heart, soul, strength, and mind, and to love one's neighbor as oneself. Jesus affirms his answer, saying, “Do this, and you will live.”

However, the legal expert, seemingly seeking further clarification, poses a follow-up question: “And who is my neighbor?” It’s in response to this question that Jesus tells the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

The beginning of the Parable of the Good Samaritan summary describes a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho, a dangerous route known for its rocky terrain and susceptibility to bandit attacks. The traveler is assaulted by robbers, who remove his clothes, beat him, and leave him half-dead by the roadside.

Three individuals encounter the wounded man. First, a priest passes by, sees the man, and continues on his way. Next, a Levite (another religious figure) does the same, offering no assistance. Finally, a Samaritan (a member of a group historically despised by many Jews) comes upon the man, has compassion for him, and takes action.

He tends to the wounded man’s injuries, places him on his animal, brings him to an inn, and pays for his care. 

The parable concludes with Jesus asking the legal expert which of the three men acted as a true neighbor. The expert, unable to bring himself to say “the Samaritan,” instead replies, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus then instructs him, “Go and do likewise.”

While the story is simple in its structure, its implications are profound. In the next section, we’ll explore how scholars analyze and extract meaning from the parable in light of first-century Jewish society.

Examining the Parable of the Good Samaritan

Interpreted through a historical and literary lens, the Parable of the Good Samaritan meaning goes beyond a simple moral tale about kindness.

The story is framed within a legal debate about the nature of the commandment to love one’s neighbor, but Jesus shifts the discussion from theoretical obligation to ethical action. Instead of defining who qualifies as a neighbor, the parable reframes the issue — emphasizing that a neighbor isn’t determined by identity but by one’s capacity for mercy. 

As Arland J. Hultgren notes in his The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary, this parable belongs to a category of “exemplary stories,” meaning its purpose isn’t to conceal deeper allegorical meanings but to provide a direct model for ethical behavior.

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The priest and Levite (both esteemed religious figures) fail to act according to their presumed moral obligations. Some have suggested they avoided the wounded man for fear of ritual impurity, as contact with a corpse would have rendered them unclean. 

However, as Hultgren points out, Jewish law permitted exceptions in cases of life-or-death situations, meaning that their inaction cannot be justified on religious grounds.

The contrast is striking: the very individuals expected to uphold the ethical teachings of the Torah fail to embody them, while the Samaritan (an outsider reviled by mainstream Jewish society) becomes the true moral exemplar.

This hostility stemmed from deep historical and religious divisions. Samaritans were often regarded as ethnically and theologically impure by many Jews due to their mixed ancestry and how their worship centered on Mount Gerizim rather than Jerusalem. 

Michael Wolter, in his Commentary on Luke, argues that the fundamental division between Jews and Samaritans in the first century centered on proper worship, whether it should take place in Jerusalem (Jewish view) or at Mount Gerizim (Samaritan view).

In his book Backgrounds of Early Christianity, Everett Ferguson further explains:

By making a Samaritan the hero of the story, Jesus in Luke’s Gospel deliberately subverts expectations, challenging ingrained biases and redefining what it means to act righteously.

Joseph A. Fitzmyer, in his Commentary on the Gospel of Luke, further highlights the rhetorical and narrative strategies at play.

One of the most compelling elements of the narrative is the lawyer’s response. As noted, when Jesus asked which of the three men proved to be a neighbor, the lawyer cannot even bring himself to say “the Samaritan.” Instead, he replied, “The one who showed mercy.”

The Samaritan’s actions (binding wounds, pouring oil and wine, paying for the man’s stay) aren’t just gestures of kindness but acts of profound generosity and risk-taking. He doesn’t simply help from a distance; he invests himself fully in the suffering of another.

Beyond its immediate historical setting, the Parable of the Good Samaritan has far-reaching ethical implications. In other words, there are lessons from the good Samaritan we could all use!

The legal expert’s original question (“Who is my neighbor?”) suggests a desire to define the limits of one’s moral responsibilities. By contrast, Jesus’ response eliminates the very notion of limitation. The call to compassion shouldn’t be based on shared ethnicity, religion, or social standing.

Not surprisingly, Fitzmyer sees the Samaritan as embodying the universalism of Luke’s Gospel, which emphasizes concern for outcasts and the marginalized. Similarly, John P. Meier, in his book A Marginal Jew, points out:

However, Dr. Amy-Jill Levine offers a slightly different perspective, cautioning against reading the Parable of the Good Samaritan primarily as a lesson in universalism. 

According to Levine, such an interpretation risks overlooking the parable’s central challenge. But what, then, is the main point and meaning of the Samaritan in this parable? To explore this question in depth — and to gain a richer understanding of Jesus’ parables from a Jewish perspective — be sure to check out her captivating course, The Parables of Jesus: Jewish Insights into Gospel Ethics, Humor, and Provocation.

Regardless of how one interprets its central message, the Parable of the Good Samaritan remains one of Jesus’ most famous teachings. But can we actually trace this story back to the historical Jesus himself? Or is it a later addition to the Gospel tradition? Let’s now turn to the question of authenticity and explore what scholars have to say.

The Parable of the Good Samaritan: The Issue of Authenticity?

Since the Enlightenment, scholars have recognized that we cannot take the Gospel stories at face value as straightforward historical accounts. The Gospels were written approximately 35 to 65 years after Jesus' death by authors who weren’t eyewitnesses, relying instead on earlier oral and written traditions.

These traditions, in turn, went through multiple layers of transmission — some of which we can detect, but many of which are irretrievably lost to history. 

As Bart D. Ehrman explores in Jesus Before the Gospels, oral traditions are especially prone to change. While the gist of a story may remain intact, details often shift in ways that make reconstructing an “original” version practically impossible.

This raises a crucial question: How can we determine whether a particular story or saying in the Gospels goes back to Jesus himself?

To address this problem, historical Jesus scholars have developed criteria of authenticity, a set of methodological tools used to distinguish later Christian traditions from material that may plausibly be traced back to Jesus.

This brings us to the Parable of the Good Samaritan. As noted earlier, this parable belongs to Luke’s unique material and was likely derived from an earlier (oral or written) source that Luke then incorporated and redacted for his Gospel. But does this mean that Jesus actually said it?

John P. Meier, in his monumental work A Marginal Jew, carefully leans toward the possibility that the parable predates Luke, writing:

However, not all scholars agree. Bernard B. Scott, for instance, argues that the Parable of the Good Samaritan is possibly a post-Easter creation of the early Christian community, heavily edited by Luke to reach its final form. 

I contend that we simply can’t know for sure. Subjecting each individual Gospel story to rigid tests of authenticity may be a futile endeavor. As research on human memory and oral tradition has shown, transmission is complex, and uncertainty is inevitable.

Dale C. Allison, in Constructing Jesus, describes the problem perfectly:

Whether one likes it or not, the Parable of the Good Samaritan falls within this massive category of material that is both possibly authentic and possibly not authentic. We see the historical Jesus, to use Allison’s phrase, “in a mirror darkly,” which reminds me of Peter Brown’s words:

In the end, as E. P. Sanders insightfully pointed out, the best we can do is reconstruct general impressions of Jesus’ ministry, his teachings, and his death. Beyond that, we are often left standing on shifting sands, locked in eternal scholarly debates with no certainty in sight.

Of course, this uncertainty might be frustrating — especially for those who long for definitive answers about the ancient past. But if absolute certainty is what you're after, historical Jesus studies might not be the most satisfying hobby.

Conclusion

The Parable of the Good Samaritan has endured as one of the most compelling and frequently cited passages from the New Testament, inspiring ethical reflection across cultures and historical periods.

Whether interpreted as a radical call to boundless compassion, a critique of religious exclusivism, or a model of moral action, the story continues to challenge assumptions about social and religious boundaries.

Scholars have debated its historical authenticity, its theological significance, and its narrative function within Luke’s Gospel, but its influence remains undeniable.

Whether or not the historical Jesus told this specific parable, the message it conveys has resonated through centuries as an ethical ideal, urging listeners to expand their understanding of neighborly love beyond conventional limits. In the end, its lasting cultural impact, rather than its precise historical origins, may be what matters most.

INRI Meaning: The Hebrew, Greek, and Latin Writing on the Cross

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The inscription INRI — a common sight in depictions of Jesus' crucifixion — has sparked curiosity for centuries. What exactly is the INRI meaning, and why was it placed above Jesus' head on the cross?

In this article, I’ll explore that question, the role of the titulus’ in Roman crucifixions, and the languages in which the inscription on Jesus’ cross was written. By delving into the Gospels, historical records, and linguistic analysis, we will uncover the deeper layers of this ancient title and its implications, both for the Roman authorities who executed Jesus and the Christian faith that grew in his wake.

Roman Crucifixion and the Titulus

Outside of the New Testament, historians are fortunate to have descriptions of the process of crucifixion written by ancient writers who witnessed such executions first-hand. This is one way we can confirm what the Gospels say about the sign  — called a titulus in Latin — hanging above Jesus’ head on the cross that has caused enduring interest about the INRI meaning.

In Crucifixion in Antiquity: An Inquiry into the Background and Significance of the New Testament Terminology of Crucifixion, Gunnar Samuelsson, having read numerous ancient accounts of crucifixions, writes that after being scourged or whipped, a condemned person was normally forced to carry the horizontal crossbeam (Latin: patibulum) of the cross — not the entire cross — to the place of execution. Samuelsson writes that on this crossbeam was posted a small sign called the titulus, which told bystanders of the name of the condemned criminal and the crime with which he had been charged. The titulus then remained on the cross as the person was affixed to it to increase awareness among subjugated populations of what happened to those who challenged Roman rule.

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Such an action would have been an added deterrent to criminal activity for those who read the titulus. However, there are reasons for thinking that this form of deterrent may not have affected many people directly (although seeing the person hanging on the cross surely did). In Ancient Literacy, William Harris writes that in the ancient Mediterranean world, only about 10% of people could read and/or write. The number of people who could actually read the titulus directly may have been small, but there were probably literate people around who could inform the crowds about the INRI meaning and its significance.

Having understood the purpose and function of the titulus, let’s look at what the Gospels say about the INRI meaning over Jesus’ head.

The Titulus and INRI Meaning in the New Testament

In surveying the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion, we see some notable differences, especially regarding details. Since Mark was the first of the four Gospels to be written, let’s start there.

In Mark 15:26, we read “The inscription of the charge against him read, ‘The King of the Jews’.” Perhaps this doesn’t sound like a criminal charge, but remember that Jesus was executed by representatives of the Roman Empire. Claiming to be a ruler of any kind automatically meant confronting the power of Rome and was taken quite seriously by the authorities.

Matthew says nothing about a titulus, but in Luke 23:38, we read that “there was also an inscription over him, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’” It may seem unlikely that the Romans would have written the charge this way and, indeed, it is. This is likely Luke’s way of both noting the charge of sedition for which Jesus was killed and simultaneously declaring that he really was someone fitting of the title.

Finally, John’s Gospel is the only one in which the languages of the titulus are mentioned while also incorporating a longer vignette about Jesus’ crucifixion:

Let’s unpack this longer version. What is common to all three Gospel versions is the title “King of the Jews.” Claiming the title of king while living under the thumb of a foreign empire was certainly a dangerous move. Although none of the Gospels say that Jesus directly claimed that identifier, his frequent talk about the Kingdom of God could certainly have been interpreted as a claim of royal power. Perhaps this explains why our earliest version of the inscription in Mark says simply “The King of the Jews,” implying that crucifixion is what happens to those who claim power over Rome. In fact, Luke’s version, “This is the King of the Jews,” adds a sarcastic edge to the charge, implying that Roman authority mocked Jesus for such an unlikely claim (“This is the King of the Jews?”).

It is only in John’s version, though, that we see some real impact from the titulus. In John, the chief priests complain to Pilate that the charge sounds not like a criminal act but rather like an acknowledgement of Jesus’ political authority. However, continuing the Gospel tradition of making the real-life tyrant Pilate seem all but guiltless, Pilate implies that he wrote the charge not just as a matter of legal necessity, but also to acknowledge Jesus’ royal status.

It is also only in John where the author notes that the inscription was written “in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek.” Why would this have been the case?

Languages in the 1st-Century Roman Empire

The Roman Empire covered such a huge number of regions that there were bound to be various languages spoken within it. To begin with, then, we should note that Latin was the primary language of Rome. In fact the early Roman writer Virgil, in his epic poem the Aeneid, wrote that at the founding of Rome, the god Jupiter had ordered the Romans and anyone who wanted to join their ranks to use Latin exclusively. For this reason, Latin was the language of administration, legislation, and the military throughout the empire’s duration. It makes sense, then, that Jesus’ inscription would be written in Latin.

Prior to the advent of the Roman Empire, however, Alexander the Great had conquered most of the near east and Mediterranean and had forced the inhabitants to learn his native Greek. For that reason, Greek was the lingua franca, the international language of diplomacy and trade, throughout the Mediterranean world in Jesus’ time, which is why the entire New Testament was written in Greek. It also makes perfect sense that Jesus’ inscription would contain Greek.

Hebrew, however, is a trickier subject during Jesus’ historical period, especially in the context of the INRI meaning. In his History of the Hebrew Language, Angel Saenz-Badillos writes that as early as the 5th century BCE, Hebrew was no longer the everyday spoken language of Palestine, almost completely replaced by Aramaic which had happened during the Persian period. Hebrew, on the other hand, had remained, first and foremost, the language of Jewish religion. Why, then, would the Romans have written Jesus’ titulus in Hebrew?

When the Gospel of John says “Hebrew,” it is likely referring to the language of the Hebrews or Jews which, in his time and in Jesus’ time, was Aramaic. How can we know this? First, the Gospel of John often calls Aramaic words “Hebrew.” For example, in John 19:17, the author writes “they took Jesus, and carrying the cross by himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha.” However, we know that the word Golgotha is the Aramaic word for skull. Likewise, in John 20:16, Jesus appears to Mary Magdalene: “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher).” The word “Rabbouni” is, however, the Aramaic word for teacher. It follows, then, that the author of John, who wrote in Greek and may have known neither Hebrew or Aramaic, assumed that the language Jews spoke in Palestine was called Hebrew.

Furthermore, all the words in the New Testament that are called “Hebrew” are, in fact, Aramaic words. In several verses in Acts, however (Acts 21:40; 22:2; 26:14), the word “Hebrew” is used to refer to "the (Aramaic) vernacular of the Jews", according to the International Standard Bible Encyclopedia.

The only conclusion we can come to, then, is that if the titulus was indeed written in three languages, they were Latin, Greek, and Aramaic.

The INRI Meaning on the Cross

The Latin version from John meaning “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”, would have said

Note that the English letter J did not exist in Latin (or any other ancient language) and so the letter I was used. In many paintings of the crucifixion, we see this Latin phrase on the inscription above Jesus’ head, abbreviated as INRI by using the first letter of each word. Do the crucifix letters in these cases have a particular meaning? The Catholic Church used Latin exclusively for religious services until the 1960s, when the Second Vatican Council decreed that the Mass should be performed in local languages. For this reason, the Catholic crucifix letters usually include the Latin abbreviation of INRI.

In Greek, by the way, the inscription would have said

As I noted above, it doesn’t make historical sense to look at the INRI meaning in Hebrew. However, in Aramaic, the phrase may have said something like

To be fair, while I have a good knowledge of ancient Greek and Latin, my knowledge of Aramaic is scanty at best. The above Aramaic translation is the result of my research but may or may not be entirely correct.

The enigmatic INRI hanging on a placard above Christ’s head as he is on the cross in paintings has long interested people. What is the INRI meaning? Where does it come from?

That placard was a standard practice in Roman capital punishment. It was a sign called a titulus, which usually included the name of the condemned person and the crime for which they were being punished. Therefore, when we see references to this sign in the Gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion, we can be sure that they are at least historically plausible.

Literacy rates in the Roman Empire were extremely low, so some who saw the placard may not have immediately understood the INRI meaning. However,  the notion of the titulus was designed to maximize deterrence, making anyone considering committing seditious acts think twice before trying them.

The titulus references in Mark, Luke, and John all give the kingly title to Jesus, but their tone differs slightly. While that phrase stands alone as the charge in Mark, Luke’s phrase — “This is the King of the Jews” — sounds like a sarcastic reference, one highlighting Jesus’ utter failure to set up any kind of kingdom on earth.

Only in John, however, is it said that the titulus was written in three languages. First, it was written in Latin, the official language of Rome. Next, it was written in Greek, the lingua franca of most of the Roman Empire in the 1st century. Finally, John says it was written in Hebrew, although there are good reasons to assume that he actually meant Aramaic, the spoken language of Palestine in Jesus’ time.

In addition, only in John does Pilate appear to slyly admit that Jesus was indeed a king of sorts, as he refuses to amend or erase what he has written above Jesus’ head.

Kingdom of God vs Kingdom of Heaven (With Chart!)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The terms "Kingdom of God" and "Kingdom of Heaven" are central to the teachings of Jesus, yet they have sparked debates among scholars, regarding whether they refer to the same concept or represent distinct ideas. How can we explain the Kingdom of God vs. Kingdom of Heaven concepts? Similarly, curious individuals wonder whether it’s true that the Bible says the wicked don’t inherit the Kingdom of God or that no adulterer will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

In this article, I’ll examine the meanings and implications of these two phrases, beginning with the foundational understanding of the Kingdom of God. I’ll then look at arguments about whether or not the two phrases are synonymous or reflect different theological ideas.

What Does the Kingdom of God Mean?

Bart Ehrman points out that the first written reference we have to Jesus’ preaching in Mark, our oldest Gospel, is about the Kingdom of God, where Jesus says

But Jesus did not invent the notion of the Kingdom of God. In Pure Kingdom: Jesus' Vision of God, for example, Bruce Chilton writes that God is portrayed as a king throughout the Hebrew Bible:

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1 Chronicles 29:11
Yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and you are exalted as head above all.

Psalm 45:6
Your throne, O God, is forever and ever.
The scepter of your kingdom is a scepter of uprightness.

Isaiah 33:22
The Lord is our king;
he will save us.

Like all kings, God must have a kingdom. However, it isn’t until the book of Daniel — written in the 2nd century BCE —  that the Kingdom of God began to signify the end of the current world and the start of a new one.

In The Book of Daniel: Composition and Reception, John J. Collins notes that Daniel’s author composed the book as a reaction to the persecution of Jews in the 2nd century by Antiochus IV Epiphanes, a Greek king. Therefore, as Amy-Jill Levine notes in the New Oxford Annotated Bible, the overarching theme of Daniel is “God’s control over history.” God would be the just king that Israel deserved. This reign of God is what Jesus indicated by the phrase Kingdom of God.

One common view in Jesus’ time and place was that God was on the verge of dramatically restoring a Davidic Kingdom in Israel. The arrival of this Kingdom of God would prove that the God of Israel had finally taken control. The wicked had been in control long enough and it was time for God to rule the world.

This Kingdom, by the way, was to be on earth, not in heaven. God would be intervening in the earthly affairs of human beings and establishing a kingdom of justice here. This is why, in the Lord’s Prayer, it says “Thy Kingdom come.” In other words, the prayer asks for God’s kingdom to be established here as soon as possible.

One reason to believe that the phrase Kingdom of God rather than Kingdom of Heaven goes back to Jesus is that Paul, who wrote our earliest Christian writings, used the phrase as well. In 1 Corinthians 6:9, he writes “Don’t you know that the wicked will not inherit God’s kingdom?”

Having established the meaning of the Kingdom of God, we can continue our Kingdom of God vs. Kingdom of Heaven discussion by exploring the second term, which only the Gospel of Matthew mentions? Is it the same as the Kingdom of God or different?

Most scholars believe the two to be synonymous, but if so, why would Matthew use different wording? For this reason, some scholars believe there is a significant difference between Kingdom of God and Kingdom of Heaven references.

In the rest of this article, I’ll first talk about the reasons most scholars believe the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Heaven are simply two phrases for the same idea. Then I’ll examine some who believe the two were intentionally differentiated and why.

The Kingdom of God and Kingdom of Heaven as Identical

The first argument for the two Kingdoms having the same meaning comes from the parallels between Matthew and the other two Synoptic Gospels, Mark and Luke. Scholars have known for a long time that Mark was our earliest written Gospel, and that Matthew and Luke used Mark as a source. For this reason, many of the stories and sayings in Mark are echoed verbatim in Matthew and Luke, although some are modified.

If we look at parallel sayings between Matthew, Mark, and Luke, then, we see that many of the sayings about the Kingdom of Heaven in Matthew are exactly the same as those from Mark and Luke that use the Kingdom of God. For example, look at these verses, both of which record Jesus’ words at the beginning of his ministry:

Not only is the context the same — Jesus has just emerged from temptation and is starting his ministry — but the actual words are the same except for God/Heaven. There are other examples, as well. Look at each version of the Parable of the Mustard Seed:

Again, the context is the same and the parables comparing the kingdom to a mustard seed are the same. There are other, similar parallels as well, all showing evidence that Matthew simply used a different phrase to mean the exact same thing. In fact, many scholars simply assume this is the case and hardly mention the difference in wording.

For example, in his textbook A Brief Introduction to the New Testament, Bart Ehrman writes that in Matthew, “the Kingdom of Heaven does not refer to the place people go when they die. Rather it refers to God’s presence on earth, a kingdom that he will bring at the end of this age by overthrowing the forces of evil.” In other words, Ehrman believes the Kingdom of Heaven is simply the Matthean version of the Kingdom of God.

But why would Matthew change the phrase from Mark if the concepts are the same? There are several theories about that.

One says that since Matthew was Jewish — the Gospel of Matthew is widely recognized as the most Jewish Gospel — and his audience was likely composed of many Jewish Christians as well, Matthew used “heaven” instead of “God” to avoid mentioning the name of God, a reverential practice found in later rabbinic Judaism.

One problem with this theory, though, is that the practice of avoiding God’s name was not common when Matthew was writing his Gospel. In fact the Mishnah, a 3rd-century CE collection of Jewish oral traditions, acknowledges that pronouncing and writing the name of God was not forbidden in 1st-century Palestine.

In addition, Matthew actually uses the phrase Kingdom of God four times, something he wouldn’t do if concerned with not using God’s name. He also mentions the word “God” fifty-one times in his Gospel. Clearly, he didn’t feel obligated to avoid it.

If Kingdom of God and Kingdom of Heaven are synonymous, then why would Matthew have changed it? Perhaps the two did have different meanings. Let’s look at scholars who believe this.

Kingdom of God vs. Kingdom of Heaven: Different Places

In his article "Why on Earth Use 'Kingdom of Heaven'?: Matthew's Terminology Revisited", Robert Foster argues that there is a difference between the Kingdom of God and the Kingdom of Heaven. He notes, for example, that Matthew refers to God as “Father in heaven” far more than any of the other Gospels. Foster therefore argues that, for Matthew, the Kingdom of God represents the earthly domain which the Pharisees think is coming, while the phrase Kingdom of Heaven signifies a more spiritual realm, which he believes was Jesus’ true ideal.

Joel Marcus generally agrees with this idea. In his article “The Gates of Hades and the Keys of the Kingdom,” Marcus writes that while it’s possible that Matthew simply used the phrase Kingdom of Heaven to avoid using the divine name, it’s more likely, given the phrases from Matthew 6:10 — “Your Kingdom come/Your will be done/On earth as it is in heaven” — that “the Kingdom of Heaven is the projection of God’s heavenly rule into the earthly sphere.”

Another explanation differentiating the two phrases comes from Jonathan Pennington in his book Heaven and Earth in the Gospel of Matthew. Pennington notes that Matthew frequently mentions heaven as the domain of God, and earth as the domain of Satan. For example, when the Pharisees suggest that Jesus casts out demons by Satan’s power in Matthew 12, Jesus answers in verse 28 that “if it is by the Spirit of God that I cast out demons, then the Kingdom of God has come upon you.” In other words, if Satan is being banished from the earth, then the heavenly Kingdom must be coming.

Perhaps this explains why Matthew uses the phrase Kingdom of Heaven: he was highlighting the difference between a flawless heaven and a contaminated earth which could only be renewed when the heavenly Kingdom came.

Conclusion

The Kingdom of God was probably the basis of Jesus’ teachings. It was a notion based both on the idea of God as a righteous ruler and the apocalyptic belief that God would soon intervene in history to renew the world. He would create a kingdom in which the just were finally rewarded and the unjust punished. In addition, in this new world, the just would have everything they needed.

Despite this, and despite the fact that most scholars believe that the phrase Kingdom of God goes back to the historical Jesus, the author of Matthew chose mostly to use the phrase Kingdom of Heaven instead, leading to some Kingdom of God vs. Kingdom of Heaven discussions. While many scholars believe that these two are simply interchangeable, others think that Matthew used this phrase intentionally and conceived of it as different from the Kingdom of God.

While it’s impossible to know for certain, Matthew may have used the phrase to signal the duality between a perfect heaven and a corrupt earth. By intervening in history, the heavenly kingdom and earthly kingdom would both become the domain of God, filled with both retributive and distributive justice.

When Was the Gospel of Luke Written?

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The New Testament is a collection of remarkable books that offers us a window into the earliest days of Christianity. Among these texts, the Gospel of Luke stands out for its detailed portrayal of Jesus' life and ministry. When was the Gospel of Luke written, and what are some of its themes? People are also interested in its unique connection to a second volume: the Acts of the Apostles.

Together, these two works, commonly referred to as Luke-Acts, form the longest single literary piece within the New Testament, weaving a grand narrative that begins with the births of Jesus and John the Baptist and ends with the Apostle Paul’s arrival in Rome. Luke-Acts doesn’t merely tell a Gospel story — it ventures into history, chronicling the spread of the Christian movement across the Mediterranean world.

What makes Luke-Acts particularly captivating is its blend of historical events, religious traditions, and emerging legends, a tapestry covering roughly sixty years. As the first history of Christianity, it captures the early church’s joys, struggles, and aspirations, offering readers a glimpse into how the early followers of Jesus interpreted his life and teachings. 

Yet for all the detail it provides, questions of its dating remain elusive. Knowing when its author wrote it helps us understand the context in which early Christians were living, the challenges they faced, and how their beliefs and practices evolved. Dating the text could reshape our perception of Christianity’s development, shedding light on the social, political, and theological currents that shaped the early church.

In this article, we’ll examine the clues and debates surrounding the dating of Luke’s Gospel. We'll look at the traditional view — which claims it was written relatively early by Luke, a companion of Paul — alongside a more critical scholarly perspective that points to a later composition.

By exploring the evidence and arguments, we aim to better understand the origins of this influential text and what it reveals about the formative years of Christianity. 

As we move into the world of early Christianity, I must invite you to check out Dr. Bart D. Ehrman’s riveting course, “The Unknown Gospels.”

In eight 30-minute lessons, Dr. Ehrman provides a fresh and scholarly analysis of the documents that shaped the development of the Christian religion. If you have ever wondered where the line is drawn between history and myth in the New Testament Gospels, this course is for you!

Understanding Luke: Background and Key Questions

Before exploring the issues and debates surrounding when the Book of Luke was written, it’s essential to consider some foundational aspects of this Gospel. A brief look at its key themes, authorship, and intended audience will provide the necessary context for understanding this complex question.

The Gospel of Luke: Summary

The Gospel of Luke (dedicated to a certain Theophilus) offers a detailed and theologically fueled account of the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, presenting a narrative that emphasizes Jesus' compassion and outreach to marginalized groups, including the poor, women, and non-Jews. 

In his book, The New Testament: A Historical Introduction, Bart D. Ehrman and Hugo Mendez explain the thematic essence of the Gospel of Luke: “For Luke, the message of God comes to his people in their most sacred city, Jerusalem, in the most sacred of all sites, the Temple; but this message is not meant only for the Jews. In Luke’s view, it is a message of salvation for all people.”

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Starting with the intertwined birth stories of John the Baptist and Jesus, Luke’s Gospel follows Jesus through his ministry in Galilee, his journey to Jerusalem, and, ultimately, his crucifixion and resurrection. 

Notably, Luke includes parables and teachings that are unique to his account, such as the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son, highlighting themes of mercy, forgiveness, and social justice. In addition to portraying Jesus' life, Luke situates his Gospel within a broader historical setting, mentioning events and figures from the Roman Empire and referencing Jewish history and traditions.

For those interested in a more detailed exploration, we have an entire article devoted to the summary of Luke’s Gospel. Check it out. You won’t be disappointed!

Gospel of Luke: The Issue of the Authorship

In our exploration of when the Gospel of Luke was written, we should first address the question of authorship. Traditionally, the Gospel has been attributed to Luke, identified as a companion of Paul, and mentioned in a few New Testament letters, specifically Colossians, Philemon, and 2 Timothy. 

This view, which suggests that Luke the physician was also the author of Acts, is first attested by late 2nd-century sources such as Irenaeus and the Muratorian Canon. Yet, as with most matters in biblical scholarship, the story doesn’t end here.

Most scholars today, however — though not all (Joseph A. Fitzmyer being a notable exception) — believe that the Gospel and Acts were actually written by an anonymous Christian who, while certainly well-informed, likely had no personal connection to Paul.

This argument rests on both internal evidence (contradictions and discrepancies between the author of the Gospel and Paul’s undisputed letters) and the lack of early external attestation. Delbert Burkett, in his book An Introduction to the New Testament, concludes: 

For those curious about the finer points of this debate (and who doesn’t love a little authorship mystery?), we have an entire article devoted to this question — perfect for when you need a break from debating dating!

Who Was Luke Written To?

Although the Gospel of Luke is addressed to a figure named Theophilus, it would be a mistake to assume it was meant solely for one person’s reading pleasure. Like a letter addressed to a specific friend but intended for all to read, the Gospel was likely crafted for a broader community.

Mark A. Powell notes that “most likely, Theophilus was the person responsible for commissioning the project, a wealthy patron who has put up the money to cover the considerable cost that the production and distribution of a work such as this would entail.”

Which community, specifically? Who was Luke written to? That’s where the trail goes cold. Despite the best efforts of scholars, we’re left without a clear answer.

In his Commentary on Luke, Joseph A. Fitzmyer explains:

So, while we can imagine a group of early (Gentile?) Christians gathering to hear the Gospel of Luke, we simply don’t know where this community was located. Sometimes, history is silent and we must acknowledge complete agnosticism.

With this foundational context in place, we can now turn to the central question: When was the Gospel of Luke written?

When Was the Gospel of Luke Written: Traditional vs. Scholarly Theory

The traditional dating of the Gospel of Luke, upheld by early Church tradition, places its composition relatively early.  In this framework, Luke’s close association with Paul is seen as lending historical credibility to his account, with Church Fathers such as Irenaeus and the Muratorian Canon supporting this view.

Advocates of this early dating often point to the abrupt ending of Acts — where Paul is under house arrest in Rome but his fate remains unknown — as an indication that both the Gospel of Luke and Acts were written before Paul’s death. 

In his Commentary on Luke, evangelical scholar Leon Morris dismisses common scholarly arguments as “subjective estimates of the possibilities,” claiming that "on the whole, there seems most to be said for a date in the early 60s. The evidence comes short of complete proof, but there seems more to be said for this view than for either of the others."

As noted, most scholars would disagree with Morris’ conclusion, placing the composition of Luke’s Gospel a couple of decades later. Let’s take a look at their arguments.

When Was the Book of Luke Written? Scholarly View

When was the Gospel of Luke written? According to the “communis opinio,” Luke’s Gospel was written between 80 and 100 C.E. This theory rests on several critical arguments that consider internal textual evidence and historical context.

First, Luke’s reliance on the Gospel of Mark is a key factor. Scholars generally agree that Mark was written between 65 and 70 C.E., likely before or around the time of the Roman siege of Jerusalem.

Since Luke appears to use Mark as a source, it follows that Luke’s Gospel would have been composed sometime afterward. This dependency on Mark is part of what positions Luke later in the first century, ruling out dates earlier than 70 C.E.

Another significant factor is Luke’s apparent knowledge of the Roman destruction of Jerusalem, which took place in 70 C.E. Luke’s version of Jesus’ prophecy regarding Jerusalem (Luke 21:20–24) shifts the focus from the Temple itself to the city, portraying its destruction with specific details like “Jerusalem surrounded by armies.”

Mark A. Powell, for instance, observes that certain passages in Luke — such as 11:49-51, 13:34-35, 19:41-44, 21:20-24, and 23:28-31 — appear to respond to issues or concerns that may have arisen following the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C.E. This timing would align with the idea that Luke had access to Mark’s Gospel when writing his account.

Scholars also consider the larger historical and theological developments within early Christianity as evidence for a later date. Luke’s Gospel and its sequel, Acts, reflect a more organized and expanding Christian movement, with a growing interest in reaching Gentile audiences.

Furthermore, scholars note that the absence of any reference to Paul’s letters in Luke-Acts further supports the idea that the Gospel was written in the last decades of the 1st century.

The absence of references to Paul’s letters in Acts suggests (with other arguments already mentioned) that Luke wrote before these letters were widely recognized as key sources within the Christian community. This points to a date before the early second century when Paul’s letters began to gain authoritative status.

What about the supposed abrupt ending of Acts without any explicit mention of Paul’s death? Could that be a valid argument supporting the early dating of Luke-Acts? Not exactly! 

In his Commentary on Luke, Michael Wolter explains that the “assumption that Paul was still alive when Luke ended Acts is based on a failure to recognize the genre of Luke-Acts. Luke is not writing a biography of Paul, and he can therefore end his work without reporting the death of Paul.”

In other words, Luke’s purpose was to chronicle the spread of the Christian message with a specific theological agenda, not provide a complete life story of its messengers. So, the end of Acts isn’t necessarily a cliffhanger — it’s simply where Luke chose to close the narrative.

Can we pinpoint the exact date of composition? Fitzmyer asserts that the “best solution is to adopt the date for Luke-Acts that is used by many today, ca. A.D. 80-85."  Similarly, Brown claims that the “best date would seem to be 85, give or take five to ten years.”

Moreover, he argues that the Gospel was probably composed by the end of the 1st century. He explains: 

Wolter, on the other hand, is more cautious, asserting that a “clear terminus ante quem is only given by the quotations from the Gospel of Luke in Justin Martyr in the middle of the second century. Every more precise temporal placement is dependent on hypothetical auxiliary assumptions” (italics added). Wolter himself hypothesizes in favor of the 80s of the 1st century.

Therefore, most scholars today favor a date between 80 and 100 C.E. for the Gospel of Luke. This range accounts for Luke’s use of Mark, the apparent knowledge of Jerusalem’s fall, and the historical-theological setting of the early Christian movement as depicted in Luke-Acts.

Conclusion

I must admit, I enjoy reading the Gospel of Luke. The Greek is beautifully crafted, and the rhetorical skill on display suggests that the author was someone who would certainly have made an engaging intellectual friend — perhaps over a few lively debates (with beers, of course!).

But behind the nice prose lies a fundamental question that continues to captivate scholars and readers alike: When was the Gospel of Luke written?

From the traditional early dating, upheld by the Church Fathers, to the more cautious and objective views of modern scholars who place it in the last decades of the first century, the question remains complex.

While we may never pinpoint the exact year of its composition, exploring the various scholarly perspectives enhances our understanding of how this Gospel, and the early Christian movement it reflects, evolved. And perhaps, like all enduring mysteries, part of the appeal is that there will always be more to discover.

When Was the Gospel of Matthew Written? (Traditional & Scholarly Dates)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

When was the Gospel of Matthew written? Recently, I had the privilege of being a guest lecturer at the Faith&Politics forum, a fascinating event that hosted a range of influential figures from the European Parliament and regional countries. My topic? The Historical Jesus and His Political Context — a subject that practically begs for lively discussion.

I divided my presentation into two parts: First, I outlined the key challenges historians encounter when analyzing Jesus' life, from authorship questions to the dating of the Gospels; second, I zoomed in on the political landscape of first-century Judea, exploring Jesus' interactions (and tensions) with the power players of his time.

Although my lecture was decidedly political in focus, the Q&A session quickly veered back to my first section. Attendees were keenly interested in the Gospels’ origins, and, unsurprisingly, the dating of these texts became the evening’s unofficial theme.

One question stood out. An attendee asked me to compare the dating of the Gospels with that of other ancient biographies, suggesting that a shorter gap between Jesus’ life and the Gospels might somehow guarantee their historical reliability. This led to a broader discussion that, in the end, circled back to the very foundation of any historical analysis of Jesus: The dating of the Gospels. 

It’s an issue that looms large, especially when reliability is in question — something my audience was grappling with. And so, here we are, about to tackle one of the most enduring questions in Biblical scholarship: When was the Gospel of Matthew written?

The date of Matthew’s Gospel isn’t just a footnote in history; it holds implications for understanding the development of early Christian thought, the Gospel’s intended message, and the community it addressed. 

In the sections that follow, we’ll examine Matthew’s origin through a scholarly lens, beginning with a brief overview of the Gospel’s content and traditional author, before turning our focus to the main issue: When was the Book of Matthew written? 

We’ll weigh traditional beliefs against modern scholarly consensus, thus uncovering how both sides have shaped our understanding of this foundational text.

But before we begin, I want to invite you to check out Bart D. Ehrman’s course “The Unknown Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.” In eight 30-minute lessons, Dr. Ehrman provides a scholarly analysis of the four New Testament Gospels, delineating authentic history from later tradition and myth. 

Overview of Key Aspects of Matthew's Gospel

When was the Gospel of Matthew written? Before we begin answering that question, a short overview of its key aspects is necessary. So, in what follows, we’ll take a brief look at the authorship of Matthew’s Gospel, its summary, and the designated audience. 

Who Wrote the Gospel of Matthew?

In exploring when the Gospel of Matthew was written, an essential part of our analysis involves the question of authorship. Traditionally, this Gospel has been attributed to Matthew, a tax collector and one of Jesus’ twelve disciples. Early church figures such as Irenaeus (late 2nd century C.E.) affirmed this view, thus providing one of the earliest external attestations. 

However, most critical scholars today question this attribution. For one, the Gospel is anonymous; at no point does the author identify himself as Matthew or as any eyewitness. This lack of internal evidence leads scholars to search for other clues.

Notably, the Gospel shows signs of having used the Gospel of Mark as a source (more on that later!), which is puzzling if the author were indeed Matthew. As an eyewitness to Jesus' ministry, he would have been less reliant on secondhand accounts. Additionally, the sophisticated structure and language suggest a high level of literary skill, perhaps unlikely for a Galilean tax collector. 

These factors lead most scholars to conclude that the Gospel was likely penned by an unknown author within a Jewish-Christian community. As Delbert Burkett notes in his Introduction to the New Testament: “The Gospel itself makes no claims concerning who wrote it. Modern scholarship therefore has to leave the author anonymous.”

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For those interested in a deeper dive into this debate, we have an entire article dedicated to examining the authorship of Matthew in detail. Make sure to check it out!

Intended Audience: To Whom Was the Gospel of Matthew Written?

Most critical scholars agree that the Gospel of Matthew was likely written for a Jewish-Christian audience. This conclusion is drawn from the text’s frequent references to Jewish customs, laws, and prophecies, often without explanatory context — an indication that the intended readers would have already been familiar with these traditions.

Matthew’s Gospel, more than any other, emphasizes Jesus as the fulfillment of Jewish prophecy, frequently citing the Hebrew Scriptures to frame Jesus as the long-awaited Messiah.

Furthermore, certain themes in Matthew, such as Jesus’ teachings on the law, indicate an interest in bridging the gap between Jewish tradition and the emerging Christian faith. 

Rather than rejecting the Torah, in Matthew, Jesus reinterprets the Torah and expands on its ethical teachings — a perspective that would have resonated with Jewish Christians grappling with the question of how to preserve their heritage while embracing their faith in Jesus as the Messiah.

Regarding the precise community to whom “Matthew” wrote his account, secure answers evade us. In his book Introducing the New Testament, Mark A. Powell concludes: 

In case you want to know more, we have an entire article on this as well! All you need to do is click and read. You might find a surprising wealth of scholarly information!

The Gospel of Matthew: Short Summary

The Gospel of Matthew presents a unique portrayal of Jesus as the Messiah who fulfills Jewish prophecy, emphasizing his role as a teacher and moral guide. Structured around five major discourses — such as the Sermon on the Mount and teachings on the Kingdom of Heaven — Matthew highlights Jesus' ethical teachings and parables.

This Gospel also uniquely frames Jesus as the new Moses, thus providing instruction that deepens and fulfills the Law. For a deeper exploration of these themes and how they shape Matthew’s narrative, see our earlier article dedicated to the Gospel’s content and structure.

After providing a brief overview of the key aspects of the most popular New Testament Gospel, we can focus on the main question of this article: When was the Gospel of Matthew written?

When Was the Book of Matthew Written: Assessing the Evidence

As you can probably imagine there are certain aspects of the New Testament history where the traditional (religious) and scholarly (historical) points of view collide. This precisely is the case with the question of when the Gospel of Matthew was written.

When Was the Gospel of Matthew Written: Traditional Theory

The traditional view holds that the Gospel of Matthew was written by the apostle Matthew, also known as Levi in other Gospels. Matthew was a tax collector who Jesus called to be one of his disciples.

Support for this theory primarily comes from early Christian testimony, notably from Papias, a bishop of Hierapolis in the early 2nd century. According to a fragment preserved by the historian Eusebius, Papias reported that “Matthew collected the sayings (or ‘logia’) of Jesus in the Hebrew language, and each one interpreted them as he could.”

Irenaeus, writing later in the 2nd century, explicitly affirmed this view, stating that Matthew composed his Gospel among the Hebrews in their language, shortly after Jesus’ life. Following Irenaeus, virtually every major Church figure — from Origen to Eusebius — accepted Matthew’s authorship, building a strong tradition around this attribution.

That brings us to the issue at hand: When was the Book of Matthew written? According to Church tradition, the Gospel of Matthew was believed to have been written relatively early, likely within the first few decades after Jesus’ death, around 50-60 C.E. This early date aligns with the traditional view that Matthew, a direct disciple of Jesus, authored the Gospel. At the same time, eyewitnesses to Jesus’ ministry were still alive. 

Early Church figures, such as Irenaeus and Origen, implied that Matthew’s Gospel was among the earliest Christian texts, often suggesting that it was composed before the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 C.E.

This view has found some support among scholars. In his book Redating the New Testament, James A. T. Robinson remains skeptical of the internal evidence supporting the late dating of Matthew: 

Robinson believes that Matthew was composed as early as the 60s. However, as much as earlier dating looks attractive, it has serious flaws. Consequently, most scholars have come up with a different conclusion, putting the composition of Matthew’s Gospel a couple of decades later. Let’s take a look!

When was the Book of Matthew Written: Scholarly Consensus 

Scholars have long debated when the Gospel of Matthew was written, but most critical assessments place its composition between 80 and 90 C.E. This view begins by reevaluating the traditional testimony of Papias.

Firstly, the Greek Gospel of Matthew isn’t simply a collection of sayings or “logia” but a more developed narrative account of Jesus’ life, teachings, and resurrection. Secondly, the Gospel was composed in Greek, not Hebrew, as Papias implies.

While it’s natural to connect Papias’ reference to the only Gospel of Matthew we know, it’s equally plausible that he refers to a different, now-lost collection of Jesus’ sayings. Other collections, possibly attributed to a different “Matthew,” may have circulated in early Christian circles and could explain Papias' reference without tying it directly to our Gospel of Matthew.

A stronger argument for dating Matthew post-70 C.E. arises from the literary evidence, particularly the Gospel’s clear dependence on the Gospel of Mark. Most scholars agree that Mark was written shortly after the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 C.E. 

Matthew incorporates large portions of Mark’s text, often verbatim, and rearranges or expands upon Mark’s material to suit his narrative and theological aims. This reliance on Mark — demonstrated through consistent verbatim agreements and a similar sequence of events — strongly suggests that Matthew’s Gospel was composed afterward.

Further literary evidence within the Gospel of Matthew itself also points to a date post-70 CE. Mark A. Powell explains: 

Matthew’s theological and ecclesiological development further supports this dating. The Gospel includes higher Christology and a structured view of the church community, which are more in line with Christian theological developments of the late first century.

Take, for instance, the divinity of Jesus. As Raymond E. Brown has observed, analysis of the New Testament Gospels reveals the so-called “backward Christology.” In our earliest Gospel, Jesus’ divine nature is closely related to his baptism. That is the point of his divine origin. However, Matthew (and Luke, as well) pushes this further back, insisting that Jesus was divine from his birth. 

Furthermore, Matthew’s inclusion of the Trinitarian baptismal formula in 28:19 (“in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit”) is distinct from earlier New Testament writings and suggests that Matthew’s community had already begun to crystallize specific theological concepts.

As to the “terminus ad quem” (latest possible date), it’s important to note that the early Christian writings from the first half of the 2nd century show clear familiarity with Matthew’s text.

For instance, Ignatius of Antioch (d. ca. 107 C.E.) seems to echo Matthew’s teachings in his letters, and the Didache — an early Christian instructional manual likely composed in the early second century — displays notable parallels to Matthew’s Gospel in its ethical teachings and sayings of Jesus.  

In light of this combined evidence — Papias’ ambiguous testimony, Matthew’s dependence on Mark, apparent references to post-70 C.E. events, and a more developed theology — most scholars place the Gospel’s composition around 80-95 C.E.

Consequently, William D. Davies and Dale C. Allison conclude: “To sum up: Matthew was almost certainly written between A.D. 70 and A.D. 100, in all probability between A.D. 80 and 95.”

Conclusion

Reflecting on my experience at the Faith&Politics forum, it’s clear that questions about the Gospels’ dating — particularly, when the Gospel of Matthew was written — are central to understanding the historical Jesus. As my audience there observed, pinpointing a date for Matthew not only affects our view of its reliability but also shapes how we interpret its portrayal of Jesus and the early Christian community.

Knowing when Matthew was likely written helps us see the Gospel as a product of a specific historical and theological moment, influenced by the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple and the complex relationship between early Christianity and Judaism.

In examining both the traditional and scholarly perspectives, we see how each view has contributed valuable insights. The traditional attribution to the apostle Matthew connects this Gospel to early eyewitnesses, while modern scholarship emphasizes the Gospel's dependence on Mark, its advanced theological themes, and its audience’s post-70 C.E. concerns.

Most scholars today conclude that Matthew was likely written between 80 and 95 C.E., a timeframe that reflects a community grappling with its Jewish roots and evolving Christian identity. 

What did Judas do to Jesus? (How Judas Betrayed Jesus)

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

Judas Iscariot is one of the most infamous figures in Christian tradition. What did Judas do to Jesus? People remember him because Judas betrayed Jesus to the authorities, which led to the crucifixion. But who was Judas really? Was he a historical person, or merely a fictional character created for narrative purposes in the Gospels?

How did Judas betray Jesus? The answer to this question, described in multiple New Testament texts, raises other important questions about his motivations, character, and ultimate fate. In this article, I’ll examine the various portrayals of Judas across the Gospels, his complex relationship with Jesus, and the lingering theological debates about his actions and their consequences.

Who Was Judas in the Bible?

Biblical scholars have long asked whether Judas was a real person or simply a fictional character in the Gospels. While we cannot answer with perfect certainty, most scholars believe that Judas really existed. Part of the reason some have questioned his historicity, however, goes back to his name.

The name Judas was the Greek version of the Hebrew name Judah, which was extremely popular in 1st-century Palestine. In fact, we can confirm this by the large number of men named Judas in the New Testament. According to B.J. Oropeza, there are 36 Judases in the NT, including Judas Iscariot. However, since the name goes back to the kingdom of Judah from which we also get our English word Jew, some have implied that Judas was merely an antisemitic literary invention, meant to represent a Jew who betrayed Jesus into the hands of the Jewish authorities who, according to the NT, were then indirectly responsible for getting him killed.

While this is a plausible assumption, most scholars actually believe in the historicity of Judas Iscariot, not least because there are so many Judases named in the NT not accused of evildoing. In addition, in Jesus: Apocalyptic Prophet of the New Millennium, Bart Ehrman writes that Judas’ betrayal of Jesus is “about as historically certain as anything else in the tradition.” Why?

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First, it can be found in multiple sources (Mark 14:10-11, John 18:2-3, Acts 1:16, and possibly 1 Corinthians 11:23). Second, Ehrman notes that Judas’ betrayal is not something an early Christian author would likely invent. The notion that one of Jesus’ handpicked 12 disciples would then betray him does not put Jesus or the movement in a flattering light. Ehrman said that while there are still many questions about the details of the betrayal, there is little doubt that it happened.

In The Historical Jesus in Recent Research, John P. Meier agrees, noting that although we know very little about Judas, the scholarly consensus says that “Jesus chose him as one of the Twelve, and he handed over Jesus to the Jerusalem authorities, thus precipitating Jesus's execution."

As for his second name, Iscariot, there are two theories about its origin. In Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, Richard Bauckham asserts that Iscariot is a descriptive word from the Hebrew Κ-Qrîyôt meaning “man from Kerioth.” Kerioth was a city mentioned twice in the Hebrew Bible: Joshua 15:25 says it was a town in southern Judea, while Amos 2:2 says it was a town in Moab (both could be true). It may be that Judas was known to be from one of those places.

However, in Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary, Bastiaan van Iersel says that Iscariot may be a Greek corruption of the Latin word “sicarius” meaning “dagger man.” According to 1st-century Jewish historian Josephus, there was a group of Jewish political assassins late in the 1st century whom he called the “Sicarii.” He claims they had attacked the High Priest, as well as 700 Jewish women and children. Was Judas one of these assassins? While it’s possible, the earliest evidence we have of these figures occurs long after Judas’ death so it’s perhaps unlikely.

Having explored his name, let’s look at portrayals of Judas in the New Testament.

What Did Judas Do to Jesus? Uncovering What We Know

What did Judas do to Jesus? Answering that question requires going to our earliest Christian writings, the letters of Paul. Paul mentions Jesus’ betrayal briefly in 1 Corinthians 11:23-24:

All we really have here from Paul is the bare fact that Jesus was betrayed. We do not have the name of his betrayer or betrayers. This has made some question whether Judas truly existed since Paul did not mention his name. On the other hand, perhaps Paul didn’t know who betrayed Jesus.

Mark, our earliest written Gospel, mentions Judas only three times. In Mark 3:16-19, Mark gives us the list of the 12 men called by Jesus to be his disciples. In verse 19 and mentioned last, we see “Judas Iscariot, who handed [Jesus] over.” Right from the beginning, there is no doubt who the bad guy in the story will be.

Next, Mark 14:10-11 says

What’s interesting about this passage is that we don’t have a clear motive for Judas’ action. While money is always a good motivator, it seems that he offered to betray Jesus before money was proposed. Did Judas have a disagreement with Jesus or bear a grudge against him? Mark doesn’t say.

This Gospel’s final mention of Judas occurs in Mark 14:43-46 where Jesus and his disciples are praying in the Garden of Gethsemane:

Notice, that the chief priests are not there themselves, just henchmen they’ve sent with weapons to arrest Jesus. This might explain the scope of Judas’ betrayal: perhaps his job was merely to identify Jesus for these people who didn’t know him. Or, perhaps knowing Jesus and the disciples had a plan to go to the Garden after the Passover meal, he brought them to the right place to find him. In fact, the Gospel of John says this was the case. Whatever the answer, though, that’s the last we see of Judas in Mark.

In John 18:2-3, however, it says

How did Judas betray Jesus? On the one hand, it makes sense that he would have been able to lead them to a place that Jesus frequented. On the other hand, Jesus has had numerous discussions with the Pharisees in John, so couldn’t they have identified Jesus as well as Judas? Perhaps the author of John knew the tradition that Jesus had been betrayed by Judas and so had to include it whether it made sense narratively or not.

As for Judas’ fate after he betrayed Jesus, there are two stories in the NT. Matthew 27:3-10 says that

Interestingly, in this passage, Judas seems surprised that Jesus is condemned to death as a result of his betrayal. This leaves us to wonder what Judas thought would happen to Jesus at the hands of the authorities. Whatever the answer, Matthew makes it clear that Judas committed suicide out of despair and remorse.

However, in Acts 1:16, Peter addresses the remaining 11 disciples after Jesus’ ascension, saying “Brothers and sisters, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus…” Here we see the author of Acts, who also wrote Luke, repeating the tradition that Judas was one of the 12 disciples and betrayed Jesus.

Additionally, Acts 1:18 has a very different version of Judas’ death:

It's hard to know whether this death also indicates suicide in some way, or whether it is divine retribution for Judas’ betrayal.

What Did Judas Get for Betraying Jesus?

As we saw above, Mark’s Gospel simply says that Judas was paid money or silver (Greek: argyrion) and Luke says the same, with no amount given. Nevertheless, Matthew specifies that it was 30 pieces of silver, and John says 30 silver coins.

As for motivation, in Luke, while Judas does agree to accept a fee from the authorities for handing Jesus over, he only goes to them because “Satan entered into him.” Similarly, John says that when Jesus had identified Judas as his betrayer at their meal, “Satan entered into him” and he left. Is this absolving Judas since he was possessed by Satan when the idea came over him? Probably not, but it’s an interesting question.

The Gospel of Judas

There is a non-canonical gospel known as the Gospel of Judas that was discovered in the 1970s in an Egyptian cave. While the term Gnostic is certainly problematic for several reasons (see my article on the Gnostics for more information), most scholars have identified the Gospel of Judas as written by and for a Gnostic group in the late 2nd century CE.

Unlike in the canonical Gospels where he is the villain, in this gospel, Judas is the most important disciple of Jesus. The entire text consists, in fact, of conversations between Jesus and Judas. Many of these conversations are about theology and cosmology. According to the Jesus of this gospel, for instance, God is a cloud of light that exists only in a realm separate from human beings. This, and many other ideas in the Gospel of Judas contradict orthodox church teachings of the 2nd century.

The most striking difference between this gospel and the canonical Gospels is that Judas is portrayed in such a positive light. Why? Because the Gospel of Judas says Jesus had told Judas to betray him in order to initiate the divine plan. Thus, Judas is depicted not only as Jesus’ favorite disciple but also the most crucial for Jesus’ mission.

Did Jesus Forgive Judas?

While no books of the New Testament say that Jesus forgave Judas for his betrayal, some Christian writers speculated about this. Some of this was based on Judas’ brutal deaths in Matthew and Acts (his death is not mentioned in Mark or in John). Does the remorse Judas displays in Matthew entitle him to Jesus’ forgiveness?

Early Christian author Origen, in his Commentary on John, wrote that while Judas truly did repent, his crime was too heinous for him to be forgiven. Centuries later, Protestant authors, such as Martin Luther, said no amount of repentance could counteract what Judas had done.

The Catholic Church has had different answers to this question throughout its history. Pope Gregory the Great, for example, wrote that

Since suicide was considered a sin, it would seem that Gregory doubted the sincerity of Judas’ repentance and that, by killing himself, he had condemned himself further. The Catechism of the Council of Trent, however, said that if Judas had truly begged God for mercy, he would have been forgiven.

Conclusion

What did Judas do to Jesus? According to the Gospels, Judas Iscariot was responsible for betraying Jesus to the chief priests who would then hand him over to Pilate, all of which would result in Jesus’ death. But how did Judas betray Jesus?

According to the Gospel of Mark, Judas approached the chief priests and offered to betray him, for which they promised to pay him. In Mark and John, the payment isn’t specified, while Matthew and Luke report it as 30 pieces of silver.

Then, in a dramatic scene, Mark’s Gospel says that Judas came to Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane with a group of armed henchmen working for the chief priests. Judas kissed Jesus, a signal worked out ahead of time, identifying him for the guards, who then arrested him. However, the Markan story doesn’t give Judas a clear motive beyond money. In both Luke and John, though, Satan enters into Judas, causing him to betray Jesus.

While none of the Gospels ever say that Jesus forgave Judas, the question did arise in subsequent centuries. A non-canonical gospel, the Gospel of Judas, answers the question by saying that Judas was actually doing what Jesus had asked him to do and thus, he didn’t need to be forgiven. Many other Christian writers, however, have said that despite Jesus’ emphasis on forgiveness, Judas’ sin had been too monstrous for him to be forgiven.

Son of Man: Meaning and Who It Is in the Bible

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily match my own. - Dr. Bart D. Ehrman

The phrase Son of Man is one of the most intriguing and multifaceted expressions in the Hebrew Bible and early Christian writings. Found in various contexts throughout Scripture, it has sparked centuries of theological reflection and debate.

In this article, I’ll examine the history and evolving interpretations of Son of Man, from its origins in the Hebrew Bible to its theological implications in early Christianity, providing insights into one of the most enigmatic phrases in religious thought.

Son of Man in the Hebrew Bible

What does “Son of Man” mean? The phrase Son of Man (Hebrew: ben-āḏām) can be found in the Hebrew Bible referring to several different categories of meaning. In the first category, it is used to contrast the nature and power of God with the humble state of human beings. For example, Numbers 23:19 says “God is not a man, that he should lie; neither the son of man, that he should repent.” Another example of this found in Psalms 8:4 asks God “What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?” By the way, I’m using the KJV translation here since it translates ben-āḏām literally; the NRSV translates it as “mortal,” which is also accurate.

The second category is when God uses the phrase “Son of Man” merely to address a human being. The vast majority of this use is found in the book of Ezekiel when God speaks directly to the prophet Ezekiel. We see this, for example, in Ezekiel 2:1: “And he said unto me, ‘Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak unto thee.’”

The final category is found only in the book of Daniel where the Son of Man is an eschatological figure, a divine agent of God sent to end history and usher in God’s kingdom for Israel. Where do we find mentions of the Son of Man in Daniel? Daniel 7, for instance, describes a dream Daniel has in which four terrifying beasts, representing other powerful nations, persecute the people of Israel until they are submitted to God’s judgment. In one of the few passages of the Hebrew Bible written in Aramaic rather than Hebrew, Daniel 7:13–14 depicts God giving power to "one like a son of man (Aramaic: kibar 'anash)." The figure is portrayed like a human to show his superiority to the “beasts” of the other nations.

In other Jewish texts, we find more references to the concept of the Son of Man as an eschatological figure. In 1 Enoch, an apocryphal book (although the Ethiopian Orthodox Church considers it canonical), we see references to the Son of Man in a section known as the Similitudes. In this section, the Son of Man is characterized as a pre-existent, divinely sent judge, defender of righteousness, and ruler. In The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, Geoffrey Bromiley writes that this depiction is so similar to some later conceptions of Jesus that many scholars suspect that it’s not original but rather a later Christian interpolation.

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In another non-canonical book, 4 Ezra, which was written sometime after 70 CE, we see a further reference to this apocalyptic Son of Man, when, in a dream, the narrator says

In Two Gods in Heaven: Jewish Concepts of God in Antiquity, Peter Schäfer writes that this “figure of a man” is undoubtedly a reference to the “one like a son of man” in Daniel 7. Schäfer notes, though, that this son of man actually fights on God’s behalf. As God says in 4 Ezra 13:26, the Son of Man is

The Son of Man in the New Testament

In the Gospels, only Jesus uses the phrase “Son of Man.” There is an ongoing scholarly debate, though, about whether or not Jesus really referred to himself in this way.

Bart Ehrman notes that Jesus in the Gospels uses the phrase in three different ways. First, to talk about his earthly ministry: “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head (Luke 9:58; Matt. 8:20).” Second, to talk about his suffering and death in the future: “the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again (Mark 8:31; Luke 9:22).” Third, to refer to the cosmic judge, like the example in Daniel 7: “Whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man be ashamed when he arrives from heaven in the presence of the holy angels (Mark 8:38).”

Ehrman asserts that Jesus, as an apocalyptic preacher, most likely didn’t see himself as the coming  Son of Man.  In The Son of Man Debate: A History and Evaluation, Delbert Burkett agrees, noting that “critical scholarship has increasingly tended to dissociate the Son of Man sayings from Jesus and attribute them to the early church.”

While the book of Hebrews uses the phrase Son of Man, it is only in quoting the verse from Psalms 8:4 I quoted above. However, the book of Revelation clearly draws its portrait of the Son of Man as Christ directly from Daniel 7:

Christology and the Son of Man

It seems clear, then, that whether or not Jesus himself used this phrase to refer to himself, the early church attributed it to him, believing he was the coming cosmic judge. Jesus’ sayings about the coming kingdom of God would probably have been interpreted in this light, with Jesus himself being the agent who would be “coming on the clouds of heaven.”

In Acts 7:55-56, for instance, just before he is stoned to death, we are told that Stephen

This is where we need to discuss the concept of Christology, which is theology about the nature and role of Jesus. We can examine how the phrase Son of Man is used in the Gospels and elsewhere in the New Testament to determine what the early church believed about Christology.

In Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity, Larry Hurtado writes that scholars through the years have generally come up with three types of explanations for early Christian uses of the Son of Man title for Jesus. The first says that Son of Man was a pre-Christian title for an eschatological figure, as in Daniel 7. Hurtado says that this is ultimately untenable because not only are there no other references in the Hebrew Bible to the Son of Man as a divine figure, but the two sources I mentioned above, 1 Enoch and 4 Ezra, may have been written in a post-Christian era. For the figure in Daniel, Son of Man was not really a title but rather a description.

The second scholarly explanation Hurtado describes says that the phrase “Son of Man” was coined as a title, either by Jesus himself or by early Christians. Hurtado thinks that while there are certainly references to Daniel in Mark 13:26 (“Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory”) and its parallels, these texts were written so long after Jesus’ death that they may not reflect earliest Christian thought.

The third viewpoint outlined by Hurtado is that the Greek phrase “the Son of Man” (ton Huion tou anthrōpou) is not a reference to Daniel specifically, but rather a translation of an older Aramaic phrase which simply meant “human being.” We saw above how some of the Hebrew references to ben-āḏām meant exactly that. Hurtado disagrees, however, since Aramaic evidence from the Dead Sea Scrolls fails to provide examples of this use.

Hurtado’s own explanation is that the phrase “The Son of Man” with emphasis on the definite article “the,” indicates two things about early Christology. First, it shows that Jesus was believed to have used the phrase for himself. For this reason, no other writer refers to him as “The Son of Man” except when referring to Jesus’ own words. Second, it shows that the phrase was not a title as such, but rather designated that Jesus was THE human being, perhaps the perfect example of a human being, while also being God’s divine Son.

Conclusion

With the hindsight of 2,000 years of Christian history, it may seem ordinary to call Jesus the Son of Man. However, this phrase has a complicated history and remains somewhat ambiguous. What does Son of Man mean?

In the Hebrew Bible, the phrase is used to refer to human beings in contrast to the divine, to address a specific person from the divine viewpoint as in Ezekiel, and to refer to a human-like eschatological figure meant to usher in God’s judgment and rule. Apocalyptic Jewish texts such as 1 Enoch and 4 Ezra use it in the third way, although some scholars think that the references were at least influenced by Christianity.

In the New Testament, Jesus uses the phrase, changed from “one like a son of man” to “the Son of Man” to refer to his own ministry, to refer to his future agony, death, and resurrection, and finally to refer to an eschatological figure as outlined in Daniel. The book of Revelation also refers to the Danielic “one like a Son of Man” to talk about an exalted Jesus.

While scholars have explained this phrase in a variety of ways, Larry Hurtado thinks that the most likely explanation for its use is that early Christians did not consider it a title but rather a description of Jesus: he was “THE Son of Man,” the perfect example of a human being as well as the divine Son of God.