To sketch the development of socio-rhetorical criticism is to chronicle a scholarly journey that was grounded upon the historical-critical foundation of such scholars as Bultmann, Dibelius, and Perrin. The result of this scholarly journey, however, would shake those foundations and would cause a reconsideration of the "assured results" of those scholars. Yet, in significant ways, socio-rhetorical criticism incorporates the accomplishments of past scholars.

Before I sketch this development, however, I should first clarify where it has ended up so far, and I place emphasis on the so far, because this approach is still progressing, still opening doors to other disciplines and approaches, still demanding that the readers/hearers be sensitive to all textures of these texts. The nature of texts themselves requires that a protean approach be taken, because different lenses refract different colors of the spectrum inherent in and through these texts. A dialogue is mandatory, because the texts themselves are dialogues, and the readers' imaginations and understandings should adapt to that reality.[1]

So the definition and description offered here are tentative and transitory. In fact, one of the criticisms of socio-rhetorical criticism is that no one could put a handle on it and put it to use. You couldn't pour in data, turn the crank, and get "results." That so-called weakness, however, is actually one of its strengths. Socio-rhetorical criticism is not a "methodology" in the sense that it becomes an interpretive matrix imposed upon biblical texts like a strait-jacket.[2] Socio-rhetorical criticism, so far, developed over a period of 20 years in which Vernon Robbins and others wrestled with biblical texts, not imposing a method but investigating and adapting this approach to the complexities of those texts. That is why a definition was so long in coming and so difficult to tie down.

So I begin with the denouement -- not simply to reveal the punch line -- but because the issues with which Robbins wrestles in the following chapters will mean more to those who have the entire process in view. If one knows from where socio-rhetorical criticism came and its achievements so far, one can more fully appreciate its stages of development and the intricacies of its growth during those early stages.

From the perspective of socio-rhetorical criticism, value and meaning are the outcomes of an active reading process, which always occurs within specific cultural contexts. The reader produces meaning, but only by participating in a complex of socially constructed practices.[3] The use of certain terms in the text engages readers, whether they know it or not, into webs of significations that are, in turn, culturally produced and produce culture. Thus cultural analysis of texts is not an extrinsic analysis, nor is it a servant of literary criticism. As Stephen Greenblatt noted:

Eventually, a full cultural analysis will need to push beyond the boundaries of the text, to establish links between the text and values, institutions, and practices elsewhere in the culture. But these links cannot be a substitute for close reading. Cultural analysis has much to learn from scrupulous formal analysis of literary texts because those texts are not merely cultural by virtue of reference to the world beyond themselves; they are cultural by virtue of social values and contexts that they themselves successfully absorbed.[4]

Fortunately, however, we now have the benefit of several more years of reflection, and the paperback edition of Jesus the Teacher contains a new introduction which cogently explains how this primarily intuitive approach was made more programmatic.[8] This new introduction makes explicit what before was only implicit about the process. Robbins' first musings about a socio-rhetorical method of analysis developed in 1975 during his study of the we-passages in Luke.[9] The import of this study was that a well-known social convention could greatly influence the rhetoric of a literary narrative. This insight began to grow and mature -- a continuing process for socio-rhetorical criticism. The next major development appeared in a 1982 article concerning Mark 1:14-20.[10] Robbins's intratextual study of the internal rhetoric of the passage led to an intertextual analysis of the Septuagint and Greco-Roman literature. The investigation of the phases of the teacher/disciple cycle found in Mark then pushed Robbins to examine the social environment presupposed by this portrayal of Jesus and the disciples. Robbins turned to aspects of cultural anthropology to understand these processes, since the Gospel of Mark is a "foreign" piece of literature written by and for people very different from Robbins and other twentieth-century interpreters. Robbins' approach, then, continues to be dialogical; he wants his reading strategy to open doors that other New Testament interpreters labor to slam shut in order to keep their "territory" well protected. Robbins correctly insists that the various approaches presently taken in New Testament studies all provide important contributions to the discipline. Thus Robbins' approach is continually in transition, adapting and adopting constructive aspects from diverse methodologies, seeking to pursue the interpretation of these texts both with precision and a manner of coherence.[11]

Jouette Bassler succinctly summarized the pragmatic implications of Robbins' socio-rhetorical criticism. In her view, socio-rhetorical criticism is:

a methodology that permits a satisfying integration of the Jewish background of Mark's Gospel with its Greco-Roman background, while retaining a sensitivity to the literary dimensions of the text as well as an interest in its reader.[12]

The term socio in socio-rhetorical criticism presupposes interaction among people. Robbins' approach in many ways is based upon the work of Kenneth Burke, Clifford Geertz, Roger Fowler, and M. A. K. Halliday, as well as substantially influenced by Wayne A. Meeks. Such social analysis begins with situations in which people interact with one another. These interactions involve linguistic signs and codes that bond certain people together into groups and may establish identifiable boundaries between them and others.[13] This social perspective makes compulsory a comparative analysis which presupposes differences and similarities among the individuals and groups characterized in any text. The task is to analyze and evaluate those similarities and differences. Similarities, for example, indicate unifying factors, and differences may delineate boundaries that divide people and groups.

The term rhetorical in socio-rhetorical refers to communication in contexts of interaction among similar and different individuals and groups. The Gospel of Mark, for example, presents individuals and groups in "role sets" like teacher-disciple(s), teacher-scribe(s) and Pharisee(s), healer-afflicted, teacher-political leader(s), and so on.[14] The document establishes these roles through repetitive patterns in progressive contexts of action and speech. Since the primary forms of rhetorical discourse are repetition, progression, and convention,[15] these contexts produce sequences of figures, concepts, and actions through which people deliberate together, evaluate one another, and establish common values, attitudes, and goals through commendation and censure.[16] Rhetorical analysis in this context, then, seeks the patterns of communication among allied and opposed individuals and groups as the story unfolds.

The term "criticism" etymologically reflects the Greek term "kritikoV," referring to judgment or evaluation. A critical interpretation demands that the interpreter make judgments, clarify through rigorous evaluation, and critically assess statements against other statements.[17] Socio-rhetorical criticism asserts that a wide spectrum of readings is not only possible but natural. Interpretation is always an approximation, because it is an activity, a political, social act of persuasion.[18] People read from different perspectives; language and "meaning" continually refuse "closure."[19] In fact, "meaning" is not an object; it should be seen as a process and an activity. Since interpretations/readings occur among communities of critical discourse, however, some readings are judged to be more satisfactory than others. Most texts provide buoys in the channel of interpretation, by suggesting ranges of probable or "acceptable" readings. The criteria for satisfactory readings, however, will vary considerably, but critical interpretations demand textual support, evidence, and argumentation. As Stanley Fish suggested, these dynamics are closely related to the social locations (of thought) within the various interpretive communities.[20]

The best way to sketch the development of socio-rhetorical criticism is to discuss the articles themselves. The following pages briefly summarize the ten articles and assess their contribution to the development of socio-rhetorical criticism and to New Testament scholarship in general. After this analysis, I will conclude with a few words concerning future avenues for inquiry and discussion.
 

Robbins demonstrates his historical-critical foundation in Chapter 1 ("The Healing of Blind Bartimaeus [10:46-52] in the Markan Theology").[21] This chapter utilizes classic form and redaction critical tools to suggest the tradition history behind the Blind Bartimaeus story. Many details in the article display these primary concerns as Robbins interacts with Bultmann, Dibelius, Perrin, Wrede, K. L. Schmidt, Lohmeyer, and others. Even the section titles betray these interests: for example, "Tradition and Redaction in the Story." At first perusal, in fact, the discussion in the article gives the impression of a sole concern with standard historical-critical matters. Robbins claims that "the distinction between tradition and redaction is crucial for understanding the story within the Markan narrative" (p. 46) and attempts to "seek the tradition which stood behind the Markan form" of the Bartimaeus story. This confidence in determining the tradition history of pericopes displays the historical situation of New Testament scholarship in the early 1970's.[22] Scholars took for granted the "assured results" of the day, such as Markan priority. Thus Robbins' unquestioned assumption of Markan priority and his confidence in nailing down Markan redaction as opposed to traditional material is indicative of that era (see especially pp. 44-51). Indeed, scholars still debate such issues as whether the tradition history of this passage occurred in one or two stages.

Robbins concludes that the Bartimaeus story is transitional in character. Mark inserted the title Son of David into the story, which links Jesus' Jerusalem activity with his healing ministry as well as linking the Son of God traditions with the Jerusalemite Son of David activity. Mark also interrelates discipleship with Markan Christology in a way that is crucial to Markan theology. With Bartimaeus, the faith that leads to healing converges with the faith that leads to discipleship. Thus after this transitional pericope, the title Son of David (Mark 12:9) becomes fully Christian in content.

Robbins' discussion of the Bartimaeus story, since it depends greatly upon historical-critical scholarship, also focuses on the traditional preoccupations of traditional scholarship: theology and christology. The title of the article itself betrays that emphasis. One should remember the context, however. Weeden's influential and controversial Traditions in Conflict, published in 1971, also demonstrates biblical scholarship's concern with theology (in this case a qeioV anhr, "divine man," christology). Yet as one examines Robbins' early work in detail, even in this article one sees an attempt to move beyond the standard exegetical techniques and concerns. This essay on Blind Bartimaeus is an attempt to open doors to new studies and approaches -- an emphasis that will become even clearer in his later works.

Note, for example, the literary emphases in this article. Robbins utilizes form and redaction criticism, but then moves beyond them. Robbins is starting a transition from form and redaction criticism to the composition criticism that will later flower into rhetorical criticism. "Blind Bartimaeus" is a literary reading that shows a true concern for "placement in the narrative" (p. 37), "narrative sequence" (p. 39), and "narrative structure" (p. 40). Thus Robbins is already trying to avoid some of the pitfalls inherent in form and redaction criticism -- the breaking up of the text into individual pericopes and a disregard for the unity and linear structure of the text.

Robbins also displays literary-critical sensitivities in his discussion of how "blocking characters" function in literature (pp. 49-50). In a way that becomes typical for Robbins, he then illustrates the use of these "blocking characters" by noting how comparative data from Roman comedy helps to elucidate their protatic function. This lone example of comparative data used in this article gives a foreshadowing of what Robbins strives to do with comparative analyses over the next two decades. We now move on to follow this process.[23]
 

The second chapter, "DunameiV and Shmeia in Mark,"[24] also reflects the tremendous impact that Weeden's book had on Markan scholarship in the early 1970's. In fact, Robbins' article is a severe critique of much of what Weeden had claimed for the significance of a qeioV anhr christology in Mark's community. In brief, Weeden claimed that Mark's intention was to correct a false Christology within his community. The yeudocristoi and the yeudoprofhtai of Mark 13:22, for example, represent opponents of Mark's author who have come into his community proclaiming Jesus as a qeioV anhr.[25] Their gospel consists of amazing miracles from Jesus along with "secret" teaching (musthrion) that Jesus gave to a special circle of disciples.[26] Weeden argued that the negative role of Jesus' disciples dramatically reflects the erroneous qeioV anhr conceptions of Mark's opponents. Therefore, when Jesus rebukes Peter's messianic confession (8:29-30), he rejects, for Mark's community, the christological view that arose naturally out of the thaumaturgic activity in the preceding narrative. In its place Jesus teaches proper christology and the correct understanding of discipleship that entails suffering and the willingness to die (as it is portrayed especially in 8:31 - 10:45). In partial agreement with Weeden's schema, Robbins admitted that "at least a strand" of the mighty works of Jesus in the first half of Mark most likely came from a Christian community (or communities) which viewed Jesus as a powerful thaumaturge (p. 61). But Robbins went on to challenge many of Weeden's assumptions and conclusions.[27]

Robbins analyzes how Mark uses the two major terms in the narrative for thaumaturgic activity: dunamiV and shmeion. Mark uses dunamiV in a distinctly positive sense in relation to Jesus and never connects it with shmeion or teraV, the terms used to describe the activity of the false Christs and false prophets in chapter 13 (p. 62). The use of dunamiV falls into two major categories: (1) connected to God and God's powers in an apocalyptic context; (2) connected with healing by Jesus -- a linguistic phenomenon found also in healing terminology in Hellenistic literature.[28] When we examine closely the passages in Mark in their narrative sequence (p. 67), Weeden's analysis does not hold up. For example, the strange exorcist of Mark 9:38-40 does not reflect antagonism between the two groups in Mark's community. The crux of the passage is that Mark presents a lenient response by Jesus to any exorcist who heals in his name and argues that no one should reject that healer. Weeden simply did not follow out the full implications of this passage and others dealing with dunamiV.

These positive aspects of dunameiV and the fact that the term is never connected to shmeion or teraV create a fascinating perspective, especially in light of Mark 8:11-13. In those verses Jesus declares that no shmeion will be given to this generation, although Jesus regularly performs dunameiV (including three just previous to Mark 8:11-13!). In sum, Mark distinguishes between those who perform healings (poiein dunameiV) and those who give signs and wonders (didonai shmeia kai terata). Weeden incorrectly presupposed that the signs and wonders referred to in chapter 13 include dunameiV -- something that Mark is careful not to suggest.

From Robbins' perspective, Weeden correctly suggested that Mark is struggling to overcome Christian leaders who are preaching a defective gospel, but Weeden's claim that the controversy centers on the performance of healings and wonders is inaccurate. Mark's polemic is more directly concerned with misconstrued eschatology: the false christs and false messiahs who are "giving shmeia kai terata," an activity which claims the sanction of God by pointing to wars, earthquakes, and strange phenomena in the heavens (p. 70). Robbins concludes that Mark composed a gospel that "thoroughly grounds the activity of his community in healing" (Jesus as the "strong man," etc.), but at the same time forcefully counters overenthusiastic apocalypticists who have attempted to disrupt his community. The import of Robbins' analysis suggests that the errant Christian viewpoint countered by the Markan narrative is not so much an erroneous qeioV anhr christology -- even though qeioV anhr dimensions are found in the narrative -- as it is misconstrued eschatology.

The implications of Robbins' treatment are slightly different today from when the article originally appeared. Its original importance in 1973 was that it severely questioned aspects of Weeden's influential analysis and added another voice challenging details of the various qeioV anhr studies current in the late 1960's and early 1970's. David Tiede and H. C. Kee would later even question whether or not some of these specific qeioV anhr conceptions were contemporaneous with the gospels.[29]

On a methodological level, however, Robbins had not yet moved much beyond the conceptual framework of his dissertation and earlier training. The article dealt with theology and christology: of Mark, Mark's community, and hypothetical opponents in the Markan community. Redaction criticism is still viable, I believe, but this article once again betrays the optimism of the early 1970's in which redaction critics were more confident of their advances. Robbins peers behind the text to determine the author's personal theology and the theologies extant in Mark's community. For example, Robbins noted that the term dunamiV occurs eleven times in Mark. Eight of those occurrences, according to Robbins, probably stem from pre-Markan tradition, while three occurrences are formulations of the evangelist (p. 62). Robbins may in fact be correct in that assumption, but it remains the case that all eleven occurrences of the term are important, not just the three Markan formulations, because the author chose to utilize all eleven of them, no matter what the source. Every occurrence is an essential part of the story the narrative weaves for the reader. Robbins realizes this fact, perhaps implicitly at this stage, because his analysis does go on to deal with narrative structure and narrative sequence (e.g., p. 67).[30] In fact, Robbins' analysis already shows certain aspects of viewing Mark as a literary system; his "redaction criticism" actually could be called "composition criticism."

Form and redaction criticisms' primary interest in the "community" and the author and his community is evident in Robbins' treatment of the material. Robbins desires to ascertain the connection between Mark's redaction and composition and the situation in the community itself. Once again, Robbins' early work tends to be a little too optimistic, in my opinion, in the delineation of the linkages between text and community context. Yet Robbins almost always softens his observations with a "probably" or "likely," a welcome and healthy caution compared to many other studies of this era. The social concerns of this article will blossom into even more fruitful discussions once Robbins begins to develop socio-rhetorical criticism. Once the rhetorical import of the text is analyzed, a possible range of social concerns becomes more evident. One example that I found quite interesting was the different ways that Robbins deals with the woman who touched Jesus' garment. In Chapter 2, Robbins only discusses the fact that it is the woman's faith that makes her well (p. 71). In Chapter 3, however, Robbins will go on to investigate the social dynamics of the exchange between the woman and Jesus.[31]

Another fundamental assumption of socio-rhetorical criticism is found embryonically in this article. Note how Robbins refers both to Greco-Roman contexts and to the Semitic environment when he discusses aspects of the Markan narrative. This concern with the mixture of Greco-Roman and Jewish contexts is found throughout Robbins' analyses in this volume. He correctly recognizes that Mark merges aspects of Jewish and Greco-Roman cultures, conventions, and traditions into its narrative, in a similar way in which other literature was written in the Hellenistic period.[32] Those scholars who disregard this situation severely damage their interpretations of New Testament narratives.
 

Chapter 3, "Last Meal: Preparation, Betrayal, and Absence (Mark 14:12-25),"[33] shows even more signs that Robbins is beginning to move beyond the conceptual world of his dissertation. The concern with Markan theology and christology is still evident (e.g., see the conclusion of the article), but that concern will begin to be supplanted by other interests: Mark as a literary system and as an expression of a social environment (specifically that of eating).

Robbins' interest in Mark's literary system is clear from his very first line: "Mark presents the Last Supper (LS) in three scenes, and the unfolding drama . . . ." He proceeds to argue that the Last Supper in Mark "completes the drama of the Feeding Stories" (Mark 6:30-34; 8:1-10). The purpose of this literary structure is twofold: (1) to defuse the view that Jesus' miracles are the basis for belief; and (2) to link this Christian meal with Jesus' suffering, death, and resurrection (p. 73).

The three scenes, according to Robbins, reflect Markan theology. The first scene, the preparation for entrance into the Passion (Mark 14:12-16), foreshadows the meal, arrest, trial, and crucifixion. The second scene, the meal itself (Mark 14:17-21), depicts betrayal as the act of one of Jesus' own disciples. This betrayal fulfills scripture but also evokes the judgment of God. Finally, the giving of the bread and cup, the third scene (Mark 14:22-25), interprets the death of Jesus and anticipates the future kingdom of God (p. 74). The important contrast between the Feeding Stories of Mark 6-8 and the Last Supper is that in the former the disciples never grasp the significance of Jesus' distribution of bread and fish to the crowds. Thus in this way, the narrator completes the drama of the Feeding Stories in the Last Supper, which links eating to Jesus' death, resurrection, and absence.

What I find particularly interesting about this article is the way in which Robbins' analysis foreshadows later literary-critical analyses of the Markan narrative.[34] In fact, a simple change of terminology in sections of this article would establish this study as breaking new ground (in 1976) in narrative criticism. Perhaps the best way to demonstrate this fact would be to cull selections from the article itself.

Robbins does investigate the first scene in Mark (14:12-16) along the lines of author, tradition, redaction, and composition (e.g., p. 75). He still interprets this information, however, as data for a reconstruction of Markan theology. A more descriptive term, given the literary interests of the study, would be the narrator's ideological point of view.[35] In addition, Robbins' statements concerning the depiction of Jesus (e.g., p. 75-76) could more aptly be described as the characterization of Jesus instead of a christological investigation (e.g., pp. 88-89).

Robbins' attention to literary considerations is easily seen throughout the article. He draws attention to the importance of the narrative's interaction with the reader and makes keen observations concerning the narrator (e.g., "continuous narration," and "suppressed narration," p. 76). He appreciates the necessity of distinguishing between a general reference to an event and a narrative account of the event. Robbins proceeds to discuss the "leaven-bread imagery" in the setting of the "overall Markan narrative" and its "sequential arrangement" (p. 78). The investigation of this imagery (e.g., "the leitmotiv of eating bread" as "the literary medium," p. 79) comes close to Robert Tannehill's approach to literary investigations.[36] The crucial literary contrast is between the "leaven" of mistaken perceptions about Jesus (e.g., 8:14) and the Christian "unleavened" perspective on Jesus' arrest, death, and resurrection.

I do not mean to suggest that Robbins' study is a full-fledged literary-critical investigation. The article betrays other concerns as well. Robbins still is concerned about Mark's redaction of traditional material (e.g., pp. 77, note 15; 80; 88), but he does not pretend to have all the necessary information (e.g., "We can surely never have this information," p. 86). Robbins' focus on the Markan community will later develop into a more mature and nuanced social analysis. The social function of the community's "sharing in the destiny of Jesus" (p. 87) foreshadows that later progression in Robbins' approach to these texts.

I have duly noted Robbins' interest in the intratextual nature of Mark and the socio-cultural texture involved in these texts, but another ubiquitous concern is found in this article: the intertextual connections (and comparisons) that the reader-critic should examine. In this article, the intertextual comparisons are solely with portions of the Hebrew Bible, the Mishnah, the Jerusalem Talmud, the Babylonian Talmud, Qumran literature, and other sections of the New Testament (e.g., pp. 75-76, 78, 80-82, 83-84, 86). Thus, although Robbins is more well-known for his comparative work with Greco-Roman texts, one should not forget that he insists that scholars should examine all appropriate texts.

One of the more compelling things about the development of socio-rhetorical criticism is its ability to function effectively while in periods of great transition. Vernon Robbins has an admirable capacity for progress and change, assimilating other scholars' valid critiques and insights into his overall methodology. The consequence is that socio-rhetorical criticism continues to crystallize and to enrich its interpretation of texts. Connected to this adaptability to new data is socio-rhetorical criticism's involvement with transitions -- transitions in narrative structure, methodology, and in the New Testament discipline itself.[37]
 

Chapter 4, "Mark as Genre,"[38] represents Robbins' contribution to a New Testament discipline at a crossroads in 1980 (see p. 93). "Mark as Genre" takes part in the contemporary debate about the genre of the gospels in general and Mark in particular, but the article also looks forward to the future of New Testament scholarship itself. To paraphrase Robbins on Güttegemanns, Robbins seeks to raise questions and open doors in the discipline, to push at the boundaries constraining scholarship, and to suggest possibilities for the future. Robbins continues to be vitally concerned about the future of the discipline and with encouraging other scholars to explore those boundaries with him.

"Mark as Genre" also represents a transition in this volume and with Robbins himself. From 1968 to 1984 Robbins taught in the Department of Classics at the University of Illinois at Urbana/Champaign. This experience, because of his interaction with such colleagues as Thomas Conley in the Communications Department, helped to open his eyes even further to the fact that the gospels merge Jewish and Greco-Roman literary and social conventions. As noted above, this interest in Greco-Roman texts does not diminish the importance of Jewish texts, but it recognizes that other literary and cultural conventions pervaded the Mediterranean area and that the gospels also partake of this larger Mediterranean culture. This article clearly reflects the transition in Robbins' primary interests. For example, theology and christology have been major emphases in the first three articles in this volume, and "Mark as Genre" continues this emphasis.[39] Yet, on the other hand, Robbins moves beyond the conceptual and methodological world of his dissertation and of standard historical-critical scholarship. He will never disavow its advances, but he will insist that its narrow focus should be expanded. Scholars, Robbins argues, should establish continuity with previous studies (p. 116), but prospects for the future should include: (a) a more successful integration of the study of both Jewish and Greco-Roman literature into New Testament studies; (b) insights from secular literary criticism and modern linguistics in order for New Testament studies to become more a part of the humanities and social sciences; (c) various forms of structural analysis influenced by linguistics, sociology, and rhetorical criticism that utilizes various philological, historical, social, anthropological, and literary analyses (p. 117).

In retrospect, one has no criticism of Robbins' first two predictions for the future, but the third projection needs to be modified. Structural analysis did not live up to its initial billing, but note the other disciplines that Robbins saw as connected to structural analysis (e.g., sociology, anthropology). Social-scientific approaches to these texts proved to be the vehicle for many of the advances that Robbins envisioned.

Since much of the article is a recapitulation of studies connected to the genre of Mark, I shall not present a full synopsis of it. I do wish to point out a few intriguing points that Robbins makes. The opening gambit of the article is a paraphrase of parts of Holtzmann's Die synoptischen Evangelien. What Robbins accomplishes with this rhetorical strategy is to demonstrate that many of the issues with which Holtzmann struggled were still alive in 1980 -- although the games scholars played with them were substantially different. For example, Holtzmann's words about Mark being a "literary unity containing narrative progression" and "internal plot" are understood much differently today than they were a hundred years ago.

I must confess that my own initial reaction to the title "Mark as Genre" was the same as those interpreters who Robbins said felt that "much less is gained by the discussion of the genre of a work than a specific analysis of aspects of that work" (p. 93). Robbins himself, "for the most part," agreed with that sentiment. My own work convinced me, for example, that Luke-Acts was a genus mixtum in many ways, and comparisons needed to be made with more than one genre (e.g., historiography, biography, ancient novel). Therefore, I was yet unconvinced that the arguments placing any gospel in one particular "genre" -- if it were possible -- would serve much purpose, although I could see the important influences that various works had on the gospels.

Robbins, however, deftly shows the important relationship between what "genre" one presupposes for Mark and how that decision affects one's subsequent scholarship. For example, if a scholar stresses the "uniqueness" of the gospels, then that scholar would be less likely to discuss the important contacts that the gospels have with other pieces of ancient literature. Robbins' goal is to clarify not to classify. Robbins' genre analysis does not seek to attain an indisputable classification of Mark in a certain genre, but to compare and therefore to illustrate aspects of Mark that have been ignored in previous investigations (p. 94). The primary problem, as Robbins saw it, was that form criticism, under the leadership of Bultmann, Dibelius, and K. L. Schmidt, had led New Testament scholars away from the study of classical Greco-Roman literature. Such scholars as Clyde Votaw had perceptively compared the gospels to Greco-Roman biographies,[40] for example, but Schmidt and other form critics launched a direct attack against such comparative work (see pp. 98-100). For Schmidt the study of gospel form is a theological matter, not a literary matter (p. 99). Such claims sounded the death knell for genre analysis of Mark and the overall comparison with Greco-Roman literature. Robbins, however, correctly seeks to "make clear" what scholars such as Votaw clearly saw before the 1920's: "The Gospel of Mark is a product of two streams of culture, Jewish and Greco-Roman, and neither must be allowed to fall out of sight . . ." (p. 112).

What Robbins also cogently argues is that after the studies of Koester and Robinson (concerning Kompositionsgeschichte and a prior "aretalogy" utilized by Mark) and Weeden's significant study on qeioV anhr christology, it "seemed mandatory to discover more holistic ways of analyzing the contents of the Gospel of Mark" (p. 105).[41] Robbins appropriately contends that the correct form of genre analysis should drive the interpreter not only to investigate large numbers of non-canonical Jewish and Greco-Roman literature, but also should propel the interpreter to a more detailed study of the document at hand. As Robbins persuasively states: "Full-scale genre analysis begins with an awareness that it is impossible for any piece of literature to escape the cultural setting in which it was produced" (p. 107). Every text partakes in some sort of dialogue within the cultural and communication systems that exist in its milieu. The case could not be clearer: A narrative -- either overtly or covertly -- assumes, utilizes, or controverts elements of the cultural environment in which it was created. Therefore, interpreters should have a sense of the historical and cultural processes which influence a text and which are assumed by a text.[42]

"Mark as Genre" postulates that Mark could be called an eschatological memorabilia within the tragic mode (p. 115).[43] The term eschatological denotes its participation in certain dynamics of Jewish prophetic, eschatological, and apocalyptic texts. The term memorabilia indicates a narrative structure with individual episodes that are plotted with specific interludes of a teacher/disciple interaction (manifestation/interaction/summons).[44] Within the tragic mode further clarifies the fact that Mark's story is a tragedy that includes complication/crisis/denouement. So instead of delineating a specific "genre" and forcing Mark into that mold, Robbins sees general dynamics of action, plot, and characters, that utilize aspects of various "genres."[45] Robbins does not push the genre issue, but shows comparative data from Greco-Roman biographies and Jewish literature that are quite instructive for the Gospel of Mark. Mark is not identical to the biographies cited by Robbins,[46] but it shares certain similar dynamics with them (and other literature as well, including the Hebrew Bible) that are unquestionably illuminating. Even if one does not agree with Robbins' estimation of Mark's genre,[47] the comparative data he assembles is compelling.
 

The next two chapters in the book exhibit the initial insights that later led to Jesus the Teacher. Chapter 5, "Summons and Outline in Mark: The Three-Step Progression,"[48] examines the various levels of the Markan rhetorical use of three-fold repetitions and progressions. This study begins with the insights of Frans Neirynck about the twenty-three "series of threes" that characterize the Markan narrative,[49] the presence of the three-fold repetition that gives Mark 8:31; 9:31; and 10:33-34 a unified structure, and the three-part structure found in each of the passion predictions (8:27-30, 31-33, 34-9:1; 9:30-32, 33-34, 35-50; 10:32-34, 35-41, 42-45). Robbins moves beyond those details to propose that the three-step progression, so apparent in the passion predictions, is also present in scenes throughout Mark where Jesus calls disciples. In addition, these three-step progressions form interludes in Mark that establish the basic outline for the entire narrative (p. 119).[50] These rhetorical progressions serve as transitions in the narrative: they draw the previous action to a conclusion and inaugurate the action that will characterize the ensuing section. Robbins further postulates that these interludes "establish an image of Jesus that mediates between Israelite traditions about Yahweh and the prophets and Greco-Roman traditions about disciple-gathering teachers" (p. 120). The portrayal of Jesus in Mark merges the authority of Yahweh and the prophets with the authority of ethical teachers who embody the system of thought and action they teach to others (p. 120).

The analysis of these interludes demonstrates the emphasis that socio-rhetorical criticism places on the close, intratextual reading of texts.[51] Robbins identifies the common elements in these progressions: First, the series characteristically begins with an explicit reference to the presence of the disciples with Jesus as he travels out (exercomai, ekporeuomai) from one place to another. Second, the series emphasizes interaction that occurs between Jesus and his disciples. The final and climactic part, which sometimes closes with emphatic speech, always includes a statement that Jesus summoned (proskaleomai), called (kalew or fwnew), or sent (apostellw) his disciples. The raconteur has a special interest in this third part of the three-part unit,[52] where Jesus is the authoritative teacher who speaks to those who seek a serious relationship with him (p. 123).

The importance of these three-step progressions might not be readily apparent to some readers. One of the things that may have led Robbins to see their significance in Mark is the fact that proskaleomai, which often occurs in the climactic part of the three-step interludes, is an important term in Mark (p. 126). Furthermore, the special summonings that occur in Mark -- like those that utilize proskaleomai -- are spaced equidistantly in the narrative. After analyzing these interludes, Robbins concludes that they function "as formal transitional scenes that divide the narrative on the basis of sequential stages of interaction between Jesus and the disciples" (p. 126).[53] These stages, though, are not merely repetitive; they are progressive, that is, they elaborate and expand on a portrait of the pedagogical relationship that develops between Jesus and his disciples. For example, the frequency of these three-part units increases after the first Passion prediction in 8:31, because there now is full-scale interaction between Jesus and his disciples over the central dimensions of Jesus' system of thought and action. Robbins' later studies will point out that this section (8:27 - 10:45) is the third stage of the "intermediate phase" in the teacher/disciple cycle of teaching and learning. Direct conversation between Jesus and the disciples characterizes this section of the Markan narrative.[54] What is evident in this article is the intricate intratextual study that drove Robbins to implement the intertextual and cultural comparisons that give Jesus the Teacher its groundbreaking status.[55] Even this article, however, shows these socio-cultural concerns. Note the brief mention of David Aune's insight that Mark 13:1-37 is similar to the Greco-Roman temple dialogue (pp. 130-131). Robbins does not explore the full implications of this farewell discourse that mixes Jewish prophetic and apocalyptic material with the setting of a Greco-Roman temple dialogue until Jesus the Teacher (pp. 173-179). And, perhaps more to the point, the conclusion of this article succinctly summarizes Robbins' insights concerning the converging of Jewish traditions about prophet-teachers (e.g., Moses and Elijah) and Greco-Roman conventions about teacher/disciple relationships (e.g., Socrates and Apollonius of Tyana; p. 134). Readers will see the full ramifications of these observations concerning the narrative of Mark in the article that makes up the next chapter of this volume and, once again, in Jesus the Teacher.
 

Chapter 6, "Mark 1:14-20: An Interpretation at the Intersection of Jewish and Greco-Roman Traditions,"[56] elaborates and expands the advances made in Chapter 5. Robbins takes this first three-step rhetorical unit in Mark, analyzes it in its intra-textual detail, and proceeds to compare it to Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions. In brief, the unit displays the essential dynamics of the itinerant preacher-teacher relationship with his disciple-companions that is found in Mediterranean culture.

The opening paragraph of this article, in my opinion, is of momentous importance. The Gospel of Mark represents an intersection of both Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions and conventions. An intricate analysis of Jewish literature is extremely helpful in the study of Mark, but interpreters have neglected the extensive insights that could be gleaned from Greco-Roman literature.[57] What Robbins seeks to accomplish is to expand the "canon" which guides New Testament scholars in their so-called "background studies." Some scholars utilize the Hebrew Bible primarily, while others focus more on Greco-Roman texts. The facts are simple: The New Testament betrays certain influences from both streams of tradition, in all their disparate permutations. I should also hasten to add that, although these insights are primarily "gleaned" from Jewish and Greco-Roman literature, this information is not primarily literary. Robbins' examination of "conventional forms" in this literature will lead him to social and cultural investigations. Thus a rhetorical analysis of these texts necessarily involves a cultural analysis of the social values and contexts that influence and are influenced by the texts.[58]

The first evidence of Robbins' further reflection on this material is his expansion on the dynamics of the three-step rhetorical unit. Robbins' familiarity with literary/rhetorical nuances becomes more evident as well. These units function as particular types of interludes: "spatially-conditioned rhetorical dynamics" characterize the action, not "spatio-temporal dynamics" (p. 138). That is, no time references occur in the unit itself; the narrative mentions spatial movement, but the "summons" establishes a "kind of time," not a "duration of time."[59]

This study argues that the narrative presents the reader with a peripatetic educational context. The first step of the unit (Mark 1:14-15) presents Jesus moving into a new area and announcing a summary of his message. Jesus, the itinerant, autonomous prophet-teacher announces the kingdom of God and urges people to repent and believe in the Gospel, that is, to respond to his teaching. These items thus establish the setting for his teaching activity. The second step (1:16-18) portrays Jesus encountering two men with a command and a promise that defines the end result of discipleship: They will "fish for people" (1:17). This second step creates the special dynamics for the call to discipleship in the final portion of the unit. The climactic third step (1:19-20) presents Jesus immediately calling two other men who leave boat, nets, father, and hired servants in order to follow Jesus. This culmination of the three-step unit dramatically exhibits the socio-cultural role of the Mediterranean preacher-teacher: The preacher-teacher enters a setting and challenges people to adopt his system of thought and action, that is, to become a primary or secondary disciple (see pp. 139-140).

This intratextual analysis led Robbins to intertextual and cultural comparisons with other pieces of ancient literature. In sum, the results of that search for comparisons and differences illustrated that this three-step pattern was a mixture of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions. I will briefly summarize the various aspects of this intersection that Robbins deemed pertinent:[60]

(a) Robbins discovered only partial manifestations of the Markan three-step sequence in biblical and Jewish literature (e.g., Abraham, Moses, and Elijah).[61] He found complete manifestations, however, in Greco-Roman literature that featured philosopher-teachers and their disciple-companions (e.g., Socrates and Apollonius of Tyana). In fact, the best comparative text for Mark 1:14-20 seems to be Xenophon's Memorabilia 4.1.5 - 4.2.39. Much literature during the Hellenistic period, however, intermingles these themes, conventions, and traditions in similar ways (p. 139). 

(b) Even the language of Mark gives evidence for the mixture of these contexts: Mark is written in Greek, but influenced by Semitic idiom (p. 140).

(c) Jesus' function as teacher and his mode of teaching also mediate between Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions. In Mark, there is a transfer of autonomous authority from Yahweh to Jesus. The Messiah Jesus takes over functions of Yahweh by means of Greco-Roman traditions about a philosopher-teacher calling student disciples to follow him. Elijah, for example, is directly dependent on pronouncements from Yahweh for his actions. Socrates, on the other hand, makes his pronouncements on his own authority. As Robbins makes clear, "Jesus stands in Mark somewhere between these two modes" (pp. 141-142). Jesus' words are prophetic, and Yahweh's authority stands behind them. Yet Jesus is not directly dependent on instructions from Yahweh; Jesus' system of thought and action resides within himself.

(d) The intersection of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions also causes Mark 1:14-15 to serve a transitional function between the introduction and the first major section of the Gospel. Mark 1:14-15 functions in a way similar to Memorabilia 4.1.4-5, which draws the introduction to a close thematically, but it also functions like 1 Kings 17:1, which opens the Elijah/Elisha cycle spatio-temporally in the Deutero-nomic history (p. 143).

(e) The command, promise, and response in the second portion of the unit (Mark 1:16-18) also exemplify a merger of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions. First, the language and structure are similar to Yahweh's encounter with Abram (Gen. 12:1-4). Second, the scene reveals language and dynamics of the teacher/dis-ciple relationship in Greco-Roman traditions. God doesn't do the calling, the philosopher-teacher does (pp. 144-147).

(f) Even though interpreters often cite Elijah's "call" of Elisha as the precedent for the phrasing, structure, and dynamics of Mark 1:16-8, several important features are missing from the LXX account:

(1) Elijah's call to Elisha features no direct command to Elisha; Elijah simply casts his mantle on him (1 Kings 19:19).

(2) Elijah has no intention that Elisha should follow him (1 Kings 19:20).

(3) Elisha becomes a servant to Elijah (19:21), not a "student."

(4) Elijah does not promise to make Elisha into "something he now is not."

(g) The appropriate context for understanding "fishers of people" is at the intersection of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions as well. The promise of change is associated to Yahweh in Jewish tradition and philosopher-teachers in Greco-Roman tradition. Second, "fishing" in Greco-Roman literature is a well-established metaphor for teaching and learning a particular system of thought and action. Merged with this, however, is the Jewish prophetic concern of "fishing for people" being connected with God's judgment: thus the prophet Jesus preaches repentance (p. 150-151). Yet the transfer of autonomous authority from Yahweh to Jesus is striking, and it derives from the Greco-Roman concept of the philosopher-teacher calling disciples.

Based on this data and the other rhetorical observations in the study, Robbins concluded that Jesus' role in Mark results from a merger of Jewish prophetic/ apocalyptic traditions and Greco-Roman teacher/disciple traditions. In a way characteristic of Robbins' work, he then postulates the possible social function of this rhetoric: Christians were able to present their founder as the Jewish messiah "who called people to action as an autonomous prophet-teacher and who possessed authority that surpassed anyone else in the cultural setting" (p. 154).

When the interpreter recognizes this merger of these patterns, the intercultural nature of the genre of Mark becomes more clear. In addition, this mixture of traditions clarifies other narrative strategies, such as the Markan characterizations of Jesus' action and speech, Jesus' relationship with his disciples in Mark, and Jesus' interaction with various Jewish and Greco-Roman individuals and groups. Of particular interest to me is the Markan portrayal of the disciples. Since Weeden's Traditions in Conflict, many interpreters have placed special emphasis on the recalcitrance of the disciples in Mark. Scholars such as Joseph Tyson,[62] Etienne Trocmé,[63] and Werner Kelber[64] have seen a polemical motive for the negative aspects of the Markan portrayal of the disciples. When I read Kelber's analysis, over ten years ago, it was initially rather compelling in many ways. I remained unconvinced by his reconstruction of the historical situation behind Mark, but his evaluation of the narrative's depiction of the disciples, although it seemed exaggerated, remained largely credible.[65]

Robbins' investigations of the teacher/disciple relationship in the Greco-Roman world, however, reinforces one of my fundamental presuppositions concerning narratives: Characters in ancient literature are virtually incomprehensible without a clear understanding of the cultural processes assumed by the text.[66] One must acknowledge the otherness of various epoch's conceptions of what a person is, how a person acts, and how those conceptions are reflected in their texts. Thus the modern reader can have a more informed reading of the text, follow its logic, and interact with the narrative in his or her own way.[67]

Specifically, in this article, the phases of the teacher/disciple relationship illuminate the portrayal of Jesus and his disciples. The behavior of the disciples, for example, is appropriate to the different stages and phases of the teacher/disciple relationship. The development of the disciples is such that they hopefully progress to the stage where they will be able to take the gospel to all nations by means of Jesus' system of thought and action. This system will not allow them to falter when they are delivered up to councils, beaten in synagogues, and taken before governors and kings (Mark 13:9). This process of development, so evident in the Gospel of Mark, means that the "student-disciples attain the possibility of manifesting this system of thought and action in their lives."[68] As Robbins notes in Jesus the Teacher, the disciples' lack of understanding is not only normal, but it is to be expected at certain stages of the teacher/disciple relationship.[69] Kelber's position mistakenly assumes a strictly Jewish sequence of interaction -- which dictates punishment for such failings -- and not the Greco-Roman dynamics -- where the disciple never completely fathoms the teacher's system.[70] Yet Mark is unique in the sense that no one fully responds to the persuasive manifestation of Jesus' system of thought and action; that rhetorical strategy requests that the reader respond "with greater resolution" and with "sustained commitment," unlike anyone actually depicted in the narrative.[71] Thus, the portrait of the disciples remains open-ended and not necessarily negative, in contrast to Kelber's interpretation. And it is Robbins' extensive analysis of the contemporary Mediterranean conventions about teachers and disciples that allows us to perceive these similarities and differences and to comprehend why they are important.
 

Robbins makes a crucial advance in research in Chapter 7, "Pronouncement Stories and Jesus' Blessing of Children: A Rhetorical Approach."[72] Although temporarily forsaking the designation socio-rhetorical, Robbins here further demonstrates what socio-rhetorical criticism accomplishes through rigorous evaluation of rhetorical techniques of persuasion and argumentation in texts. The insights demonstrated initially in this chapter will bear further fruit in Robbins' later works that will shake the foundations of many "assured results" of New Testament scholarship.[73]

While others began to screech to a halt at various form critical and redactional cul-de-sacs, Robbins began to utilize his knowledge of ancient literature to plot a different course, one more amenable to the Gospels' milieu. One major problem with earlier studies, Robbins asserts, is that they presupposed that the transmission of speech attributed to Jesus held the key to traditionsgeschichtliche issues. Robbins challenges this established approach on the basis of evidence neglected by New Testament scholars: chreia traditions. Evidence in chreia traditions, for example, suggests that "actions often are as important as sayings, and in some instances actions are prior in the tradition" (p. 155). In addition, specific sayings are often antecedent to generalized sayings (i.e., maxims) in the tradition (p. 156). Once again, Robbins establishes new boundaries in old territory by enlarging the scholastic tent to include ancient rhetorical treatises.[74] By doing so, the modern reader can develop a less anachronistic and a less idiosyncratic relationship with the text.

Another critical insight advanced by this study is the fundamental importance of the ancient rhetorical treatises entitled Progymnasmata. The preliminary rhetorical exercises found in progymnasmata represent widespread educational practice going back to early first century B.C.E.[75] The "rhetorical culture" which produced the New Testament was an environment where oral and written speech interact very closely with each other. Writing and rewriting brief literary units were preparatory exercises for adapting a unit for a larger rhetorical/literary persuasive setting. Theon's exercises, for example, prepared the student for using the chreia rhetorically within extended prose composition. These exercises also greatly influenced the oral skills of argumentation, since the student was required to express them orally as well (p. 160).[76]

Robbins begins the study by explaining how the stories about Jesus and the children should be understood as moderately expanded chreiai. Aelius Theon's discussion of chreia exercises illuminates that contention. Robbins next suggests, through his study of the six synoptic stories about Jesus and children, that two chreiai existed in early Christian tradition: one highlighting a pointed saying of Jesus, and the other stressing a demonstrative action. Also through this study Robbins demonstrates the generalizing tendency in the tradition history of the chreiai, which allows them to contribute more directly to the argumentation in the narrative in which they are incorporated. Finally, Robbins analyzes the production of general sayings juxtaposed with the attraction and outgrowth of general maxims to the chreia tradition. Thus the dialogues and discourses in the Fourth Gospel and the Gospel of Thomas become a fruitful ground for analysis.

It is interesting to compare the conception of literary dependence of Chapter 1 (Markan priority) with the agnostic stance taken in this chapter. Robbins does not impose a preconceived position on this study, because such a procedure "easily leads to a lack of perception of the rhetorical nature" of each narrative as it stands (p. 163). Yet in the course of his rhetorical investigation, certain judgments can be made concerning literary and rhetorical relationships (e.g., p. 171), and some items must remain unresolved (e.g., p. 166). 

Robbins' conclusions are stated succinctly, so I will not repeat them here (see pp. 158-159, 184). Let me note, however, a few other strengths of Robbins' approach in this chapter, as well as indicate further imperative issues that this study did not yet address. The progymnastic composition observed in the Synoptics indicates that the synoptic writers had been trained to perceive stories about characters in terms of discrete literary units that were fair game for rhetorical modification, for example, expansion or elaboration. This process answers many questions concerning the composition of the Synoptics. Robbins also stresses the necessity for the interpreter to scrutinize not only the internal rhetoric of the individual pericope, but also its rhetorical function in the larger narrative.[77] Once again, Robbins shows his discernment of other literary subtleties and supplies connections to diverse approaches to the text as well. His insights concerning the hqoV of Jesus in these stories easily provides a link to studies of characterization and other narrative-critical considerations.

What is substantially lacking in this chapter, however, because, I assume, of the demands of space, are the social implications of Robbins' analysis. Those concerns are addressed (e.g., p. 162), but Robbins will emphasize them to a greater degree in later studies. My own inclination, again, would be to pursue not only the social implications of these stories, but to investigate their cultural settings as well. For example, Robbins' observations concerning Jesus' willingness to give attention to those "who cannot confer expensive gifts or positions of authority in return for favors" (p. 162), would be greatly clarified by an analysis of the patron-broker-client relationships involved in manifesting Jesus' "good moral character" (p. 162). This keen observation also involves cultural issues such as honor and shame (see also pp. 164-165, 172-173, 175). Thus this study, like the other chapters, leads to connections with various other disciplinary investigations. Robbins challenges us to develop multidisciplinary approaches while maintaining the rigor and precision of a highly specialized disciplinary methodology. These multidisciplinary approaches, Robbins contends -- correctly, in my opinion -- must integrate data from various areas of specialization, working through them in substantive, creative ways. Scholarship is thus rewarded with new insights on these narratives and on numerous social, literary, cultural, and ideological data.
 

The relatively brief article found in Chapter 8, "The Woman who Touched Jesus' Garment: Socio-Rhetorical Analysis of the Synoptic Accounts," succinctly demonstrates the potential dividends offered by a socio-rhetorical approach to New Testament texts.[78] The themes, emphases, procedure, and overall perspective of socio-rhetorical criticism begin to come together in this illuminating essay, one which I found particularly helpful while formulating my own approach.

Robbins builds on the foundational work of H. J. Held, Gerd Theissen, and Manfred Hutter (see p. 185). From the perspective of socio-rhetorical criticism, Robbins will sometimes agree with Held, Theissen, or Hutter (e.g., pp. 188, 189, 191, 192, 198) and will disagree with them as well (e.g., p. 196). Robbins is able to critique and reevaluate his own earlier held positions (e.g., Markan priority may be not "proven," p. 185, but Luke definitely utilized Mark, p. 187). His evaluation of redaction criticism is not completely pejorative. Redactional studies, like the one in Chapter 1 above, are especially interested in "probing theological and christological" issues, and Robbins concludes that "some of the results have been highly suggestive" (pp. 185-186). Yet he is not satisfied by their more limited approaches, and he seeks to expand and extend their conclusions with literary (e.g., Alter), rhetorical (e.g., Burke and Aelius Theon), and social (e.g., using Plutarch) insights.[79] As Robbins' analysis also shows, New Boundaries in Old Territory are needed, because intertextuality is more complex than redaction and composition criticism have supposed.

The reader will notice several themes in this article that pervade the other chapters as well. For example, Robbins insists that comparative data be gleaned from both Jewish texts and Greco-Roman materials (e.g., pp. 185, 188-189, 190-191, 194). The data gathered are not "parallels" that function as proof texts, but as comparative texts that show a range of possibilities for interpreters. The data is comparative; the language utilized in all three Synoptic versions establish a social "conventional base for communication" in first century society (p. 189).[80] Yet each Synoptic text retains its individual emphases and perspective, as Robbins' analysis aptly demonstrates.

Once again, Robbins' investigation would have been strengthened by the introduction of cultural codes into the analysis. The patron-broker-client contract helps to elucidate many of the aspects noted by Robbins. These sensitivities are there implicitly, however. Note the excellent discussion of the Lukan version of the story. Robbins stresses the public testimony of the woman -- as opposed to the Markan version. The focus switches to Jesus' miraculous self-knowledge and power (pp. 197-198). Robbins observes that in the "social environment of the Hellenistic-Roman world" this portrayal comes dangerously close to excessive praise (and self-praise) in a public setting. Jesus then graciously deflects some of this praise to the woman by noting that it was her faith that made her well (p. 199).[81] Robbins' socio-rhetorical study thus utilizes different terms for what cultural anthropologists would call the actions of an honorable man in an agonistic honor and shame society. When the narrator reports that the woman declared "in the presence of all the people" that she had been healed by touching Jesus, he, as an honorable man, must deflect that praise elsewhere.[82] This cultural code indigenous to many Mediterranean-area cultures (as well as many others) is another "conventional base for communication" that Robbins could have utilized more explicitly to his advantage. As it stands, however, this study implicitly realizes these insights and cogently reveals various social and rhetorical interactions of early Christian tradition with the people who inhabited the first-century Mediterranean world.[83] 
 

Robbins initially presented Chapter 9, "Rhetorical Argument about Lamps and Light in Early Christian Gospels," in honor of Peder Borgen.[84] The starting point is Borgen's thesis that many early Christians made their appeals within a "scriptural culture" (see p. 201). Robbins affirms this assertion and then goes on to examine the rhetorical strategies involved in early Christian sayings about lamps and light. In this way, he once again demonstrates that there is a merging of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions and conventions in the Gospels.[85]

Robbins first examines the common tradition, before moving on to analyze the five extant performances separately. It is in this context that the environment of the Jesus Seminar made some impact on this study,[86] because Robbins first postulates an oral structure that underlies the "tenacious" aspects of the linguistic structure (p. 203). The challenge, as he saw it, was to uncover or envision the social parameters and dynamics of a situation in Jesus' ministry in which such a saying would have functioned orally. Thus socio-rhetorical criticism can take us "closer to the base of the tradition" (p. 204).[87] He critiques the various approaches of such scholars as Jakob Jónsson, C. H. Dodd, Joachim Jeremias, and Rudolf Schnackenburg from the perspective of socio-rhetorical criticism. The limitations of these previous studies all center around their focus on later reflection on the material and on just one stream of tradition (i.e., not the "common tradition"; see pp. 203-206). The key to the difficulty of locating the original social situation in which the saying was uttered resides in the fact that the saying is a counterargument made by analogy to a topic someone else introduced. Robbins concludes, "[W]e have no sure way of identifying the topic and the situation" (p. 206),[88] yet investigating the various performancial variations of the saying in early Christian tradition is quite informative.

George Kennedy had critiqued Robbins' Jesus the Teacher for its limited use of the "concepts and terminology of classical rhetoric as set out by Aristotle, Cicero, or Quintilian."[89] This article and, of course, Patterns of Persuasion in the Gospels amply redress that initial neglect of the categories of classical rhetoric.[90] In my opinion, however, more to the point are the extensive insights generated by Robbins' utilization of the chreia tradition and the progymnastic treatises. The stages of rhetorical composition in the Gospels are closer to the progymnastic tradition than to any other rhetorical treatises (see, for example, the expansions and elaborations noted by Robbins on pp. 211-212).

Robbins' literary sensitivity is also seen once again in this article, although the specific terminology is absent. Note the emphasis that he continues to place on the reader/hearer (e.g., pp. 209-210). He also utilizes the criterion of proximity (p. 213) to aid his socio-rhetorical interpretation, although the criterion is not specifically designated. In other words, just as Robbins had earlier applied techniques of classical rhetoric without emphasizing the terms themselves, he also makes considerable use of narrative critical insights -- sometimes naming them, sometimes not. This capacity highlights the relevance of socio-rhetorical criticism, its flexibility, and its potential to enhance other studies as well. These strengths can also be seen in the possibilities for further research noted by Robbins (p. 217).[91]
 

It is indeed fitting to bring this volume to a close with the article found in Chapter 10, "Interpreting the Gospel of Mark as a Jewish Document in a Greco-Roman World."[92] This article contains a succinct recapitulation of many of the earlier chapters of this volume, as well as Jesus the Teacher, because it cogently summarizes the "intercultural" nature of Mark's Gospel and demonstrates impressively how the socio-rhetorical approach to the Gospel generates fresh insights for interpretation.[93] Through a five-part analysis, Robbins once again exhibits the fusion of biblical and Greco-Roman patterns and conventions in the Gospel of Mark.[94]

Yet it would be a mistake to portray this article as a mere recapitulation of previous studies, because Robbins breaks new ground in socio-rhetorical criticism by including further insights and perspectives. For example, in the previous discussion I noted how Robbins' extension of socio-rhetorical criticism in the area of classical rhetorical categories had answered George Kennedy's critique of Jesus the Teacher. In other previous sections, I also commented that a utilization of first century Mediterranean-area cultural codes would have sharpened Robbins' arguments. In a similar way in which Robbins expanded his insights with regard to the first concern, now in this chapter, Robbins begins to demonstrate how cultural codes can be integrated in his socio-rhetorical approach.[95] Note how Socrates (in Memorabilia 4.8.9-10) expresses his thoughts in an honor and shame framework (see p. 233). Robbins then utilizes this comparative data to illuminate the function of honor and shame in the Markan account of the trial, crucifixion, and future trial over which the Son of man will preside (see pp. 234-241). Robbins demonstrates how Mark uses three rationales familiar in a Greco-Roman environment, but concludes with a rationale from biblical tradition (specifically, such texts as Daniel 7 and 11). This mixture of traditions, which have the honor and shame cultural code in common, serves to disassociate Jesus from shame. By these rhetorical strategies that invoke cultural conventions and expectations, readers would come to honor Jesus and his words much like readers of Xenophon's Memorabilia would come to honor Socrates and his words, in spite of -- or, to a certain extent, because of -- their allegedly shameful modes of death. The major difference between them is the personal authority of the Son of man, who brings shame on those persons who are ashamed of Jesus and his words. Thus Mark does not contradict general cultural conventions of honor and shame, but it adds a further criterion: "honor and shame function within a Jewish ideological framework where the ultimate determiner of honor and shame is God" (p. 240).[96]

Other insights from Robbins' previous work also serve to enhance the analysis. This chapter always carefully examines the importance of actions and speech (e.g., pp. 221, 222, 223, 225, 226, 227, 228, 230, 239, 241, 242), thought and action (e.g., pp. 219, 223, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 234), word and deed (e.g., pp. 219, 234, 239, 240, 242), word and action (e.g., p. 227), and teaching and action (e.g., p. 235). Robbins' extensive reading of ancient literature -- Jewish and Greco-Roman -- has served him well. The chreiai, for example, amply demonstrate the importance of both actions and sayings.[97]

In a similar way to which interpreters should evaluate the significance of words and actions in chreiai, other factors need to be considered in conjunction with one another. For example, the Jewishness of the Gospels does not preclude the existence of Hellenistic elements. Are the Gospels primarily Jewish midrash? Are they primarily Greco-Roman in form? Interpreters disagree. Robbins cogently argues that interpreters, including himself, need to examine their own personal ideologies and ask themselves how those ideologies affect their interpretations. Underlying ideologies often determine scholars' understandings of Gospel data.[98] In response, Robbins presents the case that the Gospels stand in the middle of such debates in more ways than one. His conclusion is that Mark is a Jewish document in a Greco-Roman world, containing modes of understanding and action that contributed to Christianity's growth in Mediterranean society and culture. Since Mark merges biblical patterns with Hellenistic patterns and conventions, it is intercultural, like many other Jewish documents. This interweaving of God's (Jewish) theonomy with Jesus' (Greek) autonomy is inherent to the text of Mark, and, as such, the debate is built into the text itself (see pp. 241-242). Thus, not only is Robbins' contention a logical via media, it also develops out of the essential nature of these ancient narratives.
 

Since I do not consider myself to be a specialist in socio-rhetorical criticism, I write this analysis and response from the perspective of a fellow-struggler with these ancient narratives. My own approach to these narratives is not Robbins' approach, yet we share the same interdisciplinary philosophy.[99]

I firmly believe that the comparative work of socio-rhetorical criticism, using Jewish and Greco-Roman narratives, is not merely an exercise in literary, social, rhetorical, or anthropological acumen. Its importance lies in the fact that the Gospels were written in a cultural milieu in which such conversations were taking place, and Mark naturally takes part in that dialogical social discourse. Readers therefore produce meaning, but only by participating in a complex of socially constructed practices with which the text interacts.[100]

Robbins calls this dialogical ideology an "open poetics," which avoids closing doors and setting up false boundaries to close off important resources for interpreters.[101] If we fail to establish that dialogue, we leave the Gospels isolated from the contexts in which they were created. Socio-rhetorical criticism broadens the discussion, as it incorporates the advances and methods of the historical-critical approach, while avoiding its rigid exclusiveness. In Robbins' words:

Socio-rhetorical criticism challenges the interpreter to widen the intertextual boundaries to include the Mediterranean world in which early Christians lived, to widen the social and cultural boundaries to include customs, behaviors, and attitudes of people in Mediterranean society, and to widen the ideological boundaries beyond a culture of the mind . . . .[102]

Socio-rhetorical criticism takes its place among the works of other scholars who are testing these interdisciplinary waters. These waters do not lead to that mythical promised land of the "one correct interpretation," presupposed by some New Testament scholars, but they initiate a helpful and much needed dialogue. Only these interdisciplinary approaches can facilitate the profound stylistic, artistic, and ideological perspicacity that we need for dialogue with these texts and with each other. The texts themselves -- and the world around us -- urgently request that dialogue.[105]

Robbins' ultimate goal is plainly stated in his introduction to the paperback edition of Jesus the Teacher:

. . . we can develop approaches that celebrate dialogue, that show interplays of closure and openness, and that encourage us to announce our agendas in public forum and to listen as people show us the implications, limitations, and biases of these agendas.[106]

1. See Mikhail M. Bakhtin, The Dialogic Imagination, trans. C. Emerson and M. Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981).

2. Note the observations, in a different context, made by David B. Gowler in Host, Guest, Enemy, and Friend: Portraits of the Pharisees in Luke and Acts (New York: Peter Lang Publishers, 1991) 11-27.

3. Thomas McLaughlin, "Introduction," in Critical Terms for Literary Study, ed. Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1990) 6. Or as Robbins noted: ". . . any suggestion that a text can be read `simply on its own terms' is illusory. Every text is read in terms of socio-ideological situations outside itself, because every reader is dependent on real or imagined social situations to give meaning to the patterned signs in the text." See the closing pages of Robbins' "A Socio-Rhetorical Look at the Work of John Knox on Luke-Acts," in Cadbury, Knox, and Talbert: American Contributions to the Study of Acts, ed. Mikeal C. Parsons and Joseph B. Tyson (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1992) 91-105.

4. Stephen Greenblatt, "Culture," in Critical Terms for Literary Study, ed. Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1990) 227. I am suggesting that socio-rhetorical criticism does what Greenblatt suggests: to push beyond the boundaries -- hence the title of this volume. In this way it seeks to establish links between texts and the cultures that helped to produce them, as well as cultures that seek to interpret them. 

5. See chapter 10 below, pp. 220-223.

6. Vernon K. Robbins, Jesus the Teacher: A Socio-Rhetorical Interpretation of Mark (New York: Fortress Press, 1984).

7. Ibid., p. 6. All future references will be to the 1992 paperback edition.

8. Jesus the Teacher, p. xxii. The following description is greatly dependent on that introduction, as well as the definition found in chapter 10 below, pp. 220-222.

9. "By Land and By Sea: The We-Passages and Ancient Sea Voyages," in Perspectives on Luke-Acts, ed. C. H. Talbert (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 1978) 243-256.

10. "Mark 1:14-20: An Interpretation at the Intersection of Jewish and Greco-Roman Traditions," in chapter 6 below. See the summary and critique of this article on pages 20-24 of this introduction. 

11. This analysis more or less summarizes three of Robbins' four "arenas of interpretation which socio-rhetorical criticism emphasizes" (Jesus the Teacher, p. 7). Robbins' further statements about "ideology" are illuminating as well. I will treat Robbins' case for an "open poetics" more fully in the final section of this introduction (see pp. 34-36).
I am unable, in this brief space, to delineate the sundry influences and dynamics that helped guide Robbins to a socio-rhetorical approach to texts. I will, however, note the influences that he himself cites in the introduction to Jesus the Teacher:

(a) biblical training in the Jewishness of the New Testament.

(b) sixteen years working with colleagues in a Department of Classics.

(c) a study of contemporary literary theory in the Critical Theory Seminar in the School of Humanities at the University of Illinois.

(d) the tutelage of Thomas M. Conley concerning ancient and modern rhet-oric.

(e) an introduction to the rhetorical chreia during a sabbatical at Claremont's Institute for Antiquity and Christianity.

(f) college training in philosophy and English literature.

12. In her review of Jesus the Teacher in JBL 106 (1987) 341. I have reservations about the term "background," but the primary implications of her statement stand. 

13. See, for example, Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983); M. A. K. Halliday, Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning (Baltimore University Park Press, 1978); Roger Fowler, Literature as Social Discourse (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1981).

14. Robbins, Jesus the Teacher, pp. 109-119. 

15. Kenneth Burke, Counter-Statement (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and London: University of California Press, 1931) 124-126; Robbins, Jesus the Teacher, pp. 9-10.

16. George A. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism (Chapel Hill and London: University of North Carolina Press, 1984); Burton L. Mack and Vernon K. Robbins, Patterns of Persuasion in the Gospels (Sonoma: Polebridge Press, 1989).

17. Wayne C. Booth, Critical Understanding: The Powers and Limits of Pluralism (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1979).

18. See "Interpretation," by Steven Mailloux, in Critical Terms for Literary Study, ed. Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1990) 121-134. His example from Daniel 5 is especially illuminating. The words written on the wall, mene, mene, tekel, and parsin (5:25), literally refer to three measures of weight. Daniel's interpretation of those words (5:26-28), however, are verbal puns "made in the context of political oppression and presented as a consequence of the oppressor's moral iniquity" (pp. 122-123).

19. David Tracy, Plurality and Ambiguity: Hermeneutics, Religion, Hope (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1987).

20. Stanley Fish, Is There a Text in This Class? The Authority of Interpretive Communities (Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University, 1980). Robbins would add the of thought after reading Richard Rohrbaugh's "`Social Location of Thought' as a Heuristic Construct in New Testament Study," in JSNT 30 (1987) 103-119.

21. Originally published in JBL 92 (1973) 224-243. 

22. See, for example, Norman Perrin's claims about redaction criticism in What is Redaction Criticism? (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969), especially pp. 64-79.

23. This article grew out of Robbins' doctoral dissertation, which was written under the direction of Norman Perrin: "The Christological Structure of Mark." Unpublished dissertation, The University of Chicago, 1969.

24. Originally published in Biblical Research 18 (1973) 1-16.

25. Weeden, Mark, pp. 73-81.

26. Weeden, Mark, pp. 139-158.

27. Robbins also pointed to some inconsistencies in Weeden's conclusions about Mark's christological views concerning Jesus (e.g., pp. 61-62).

28. Once again, the comparison of Mark with other ancient literature -- both Jewish (see pp. 62, 64) and Greco-Roman (see p. 63) -- is a foundational element in Robbins' work. This example, however, gleaned from the pages of TDNT, does not reflect the later, more insightful comparative analysis accomplished through socio-rhetorical criticism. 

29. David L. Tiede, The Charismatic Figure as Miracle Worker, SBLDS 1 (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1972); and Howard C. Kee, "Aretalogy and Gospel," JBL 92 (1973) 402-422. 

30. Note, for example, Robbins' statement about Mark 12:24: "While it is doubtful that this scene was created by Mark, it may reveal important dimensions of the Markan perspective on the resurrection of Jesus" (p. 62). 

31. A further, more crucial advance will come in Chapter 8 (pp. 185-200). As I note later (see below), an even more fruitful analysis would illustrate this interchange in an honor/shame framework and as a patron-broker-client relationship.

32. See especially Robbins' arguments in chapters six, nine, and ten. 

33. Originally published in The Passion in Mark, ed. W. Kelber (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976) 21-40.

34. Comparison with Robert Fowler's Loaves and Fishes: The Function of the Feeding Stories in the Gospel of Mark (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981) is fascinating. Fowler's work also dealt with sources and redaction but went on to argue that a more important consideration is Mark's status as a literary work that speaks to the reader. Fowler elaborates the use of intratextual repetition, so important to Robbins' analysis, in the Feeding Stories, Sea Miracles, and Healing Stories (6:30-44; 8:22-26). For another early literary-type analysis of repetition in the Markan narrative, see Joanna Dewey, Markan Public Debate: Literary Technique, Concentric Structure, and Theology in Mark 2:1 - 3:6 (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980).

35. See, for example, Boris Uspensky, A Poetics of Composition: The Structure of the Artistic Text and Typology of a Compositional Form, trans. V. Zavarin and Susan Wittig (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973). Note also Robert Fowler's critique of Uspensky in Let the Reader Understand: Reader-Response Criticism and the Gospel of Mark (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1991) 66-73.

36. See, for example, Tannehill's The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts, vol 1 (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986).

37. Interestingly enough, even the specific items on which Robbins chooses to study often perform transitional functions in the Markan narrative (e.g., see chapters one and six). 

38. Originally published in the 1980 SBL Seminar Papers, ed. P. J. Achtemeier (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1980) 371-399.

39. To state the situation crudely and quantitatively, by my count this article mentions "theology" 15 times and "christology" 8 times. Chapter 1 mentioned theology 6 times and christology 23; Chapter 2 referred to theology 5 times and to christology 17 times. In contrast, the last six chapters of the book will mention theology only twice (once in Chapter 6 and once in Chapter 8) and christology twice (both times in chapter 8). As Robbins noted in his preface to the first edition of Jesus the Teacher, this development in methodology is not anti-theological; instead it seeks to answer basic questions concerning the interrelation of religious life and culture in the first century and in the twentieth century (and beyond; see Jesus the Teacher, p. xv). 

40. See Clyde Weber Votaw, The Gospels and Contemporary Biographies in the Greco-Roman World (1915; rpt. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1970). As John Reumann noted in the introduction, Votaw's presentation is especially helpful today because "so few students of the New Testament any longer bring a solid background in classical studies to their work" (p. v). Reumann cogently stated the contemporary problem. Many scholars refuse to acknowledge that few if any helpful comparisons can be made between the New Testament and Greco-Roman literature simply because those scholars are not familiar with Greco-Roman literature. Note also James D. Hester in his review of Patterns of Persuasion: "In many ways [Robbins and Mack] represent an earlier era of NT scholars who knew and used the classical rhetorical tradition" (in Rhetorica 9 [1991] 179).
Interestingly enough, Votaw spent his entire academic career at the University of Chicago. Although Robbins was not aware of it at the time, the tone of biblical teaching at the University of Chicago during his time of study there (1964*1968) was influenced as early as 1892 by the "Chicago School" that emphasized the socio-historical method (noted by Vernon Robbins in personal correspondence, June 8, 1992). For an evaluation of the Chicago School, see W. J. Hynes, Shirley Jackson Case and the Chicago School: The Socio-Historical Method (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981). Robbins' particular contribution is to develop this general outlook into socio-rhetorical criticism.

41. H. C. Kee, for example, "disconfirmed" Koester and Robinson's concept of aretalogy (p. 106).

42. Robert Higbie, Character and Structure in the English Novel (Gainesville: University Presses of Florida, 1984) 5, 10.

43. As a point of comparison, Robbins' 1969 dissertation claimed that Mark is generically linked to the "origin myths" described by Mircea Eliade. Robbins deduces this connection by observing, for example, Mark's use of *rw* in crucial passages: the first word of the gospel (1:1), critical apocalyptic passages (e.g., 13:8, 19), and strategic other passages (e.g., 10:6).

44. See Chapter 5 below.

45. Robbins develops these insights further in Jesus the Teacher. The reader might also find it helpful to see Robbins' discussion of genre pertaining to the prefaces of Luke and Acts. See "Prefaces in Greco-Roman Biography and Luke-Acts," PRS 6 (1979) 94-108. In this article, Robbins uses the term "didactic biography," which defends the status of the founder of Christianity and his successors. 

46. Robbins notes that "Any document containing significant literary dimensions is unique to itself" (Jesus the Teacher, p. 4). In fact, Robbins calls Mark "distinctive," but goes on, correctly, I believe, to argue that distinctiveness does not presuppose isolation from socio-cultural influences (p. 5).
Robbins' discussion of comparative data in Jesus the Teacher may be of interest here. He claims that the lack of an exact parallel "should encourage analysis of broader cultural influences" (p. 4). The interpreter looking at Greco-Roman literature is not looking for direct literary influences -- like one finds from the Hebrew Bible -- but for "sociocultural patterns and conventions" (p. 17, 76). Looking at the entire range of literature reveals features in common and features that separate (p. 12). Robbins thus correctly distinguishes direct influence from cultural influence (e.g., 99-100, 107, 117, 152-155, 167-168, 173). 

47. In Jesus the Teacher, Robbins writes that "[T]he Gospel of Mark partakes of the form of a biography that depicts a disciple-gathering teacher -- from the high point of his career to his death" (p. 10). I should also note that Robbins utilizes the Elijah/Elisha narratives extensively, not just Greco-Roman literature like Xenophon's Memorabilia.

48. Originally published in NovT 23 (1981) 97-114. 

49. Frans Neirynck, Duality in Mark: Contributions to the Study of the Markan Redaction (BETL XXXI; Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1972) 110-112.

50. Compare Robbins' discussion of "The Formal Structure of Mark" in Jesus the Teacher, pp. 26-48. 

51. In the new introduction to Jesus the Teacher, Robbins calls this "intrinsic criticism" (pp. xx-xxi).

52. Note, for example, that "some of the most memorable and most often quoted sayings" occur in Mark 8:34 - 9:1, the third part of the unit found in 8:27-30; 8:31-3; 8:34 - 9:1 (p. 124). One observation concerning the import of this quote. Robbins is exploring the "new boundaries" in the "old territory" of the discipline when he examines this "memorable" section of Mark. No longer is he talking about form critical, redactional, or theological investigations. He is discussing the rhetoric, the art of persuasion evident in this text. In other words, Robbins is shifting the mode of analysis away from the "mimetic axis of representation" to the "rhetorical axis of communication" (see Paul Hernadi, "Literary Theory: A Compass for Critics," Critical Inquiry 3 [1976] 369-386). 

53. See the resulting outline on pages 133-134 below. Robbins elaborates extensively on this final insight about the "sequential stages of interaction between Jesus and the disciples" in Jesus the Teacher. In the conclusion to this chapter, Robbins introduces this issue, along with other important ones which he will more fully discuss later. In a nutshell, "these interludes carry the reader through the complete cycle of relationships between a teacher and his student-disciples in Greco-Roman culture" (p. 134).
Once again, Robbins' socio-rhetorical approach shares common concerns with literary criticism (e.g., the text's effect on the reader, the linear progression of the narrative [pp. 127, 132, 134], and narration versus direct speech [e.g., p. 132]). In fact, Robbins' rhetorical emphasis causes him to concentrate on the reader long before biblical literary critics -- who early on were influenced by formalism -- moved on to more reader-response type analyses. 

54. See Jesus the Teacher, pp. 125, 158-163, as well as the conclusion to this article. The next story, Blind Bartimaeus, begins the fourth stage of the intermediate phase, which explores the ramifications of Jesus' system of thought and action in a public setting. This emphasis nicely and subtly begins when the crowd suddenly uses language that is characteristic only of Jesus up until that point in the narrative (vxn*x; cf. Mark 2:9, 11; 3:3; 5:41; 6:50; 10:49).

55. Note how important "repetition" and "progression" are in this intratextual study. Jesus the Teacher will classify these terms as two of the four "socio-rhetorical forms" in Mark (i.e., progressive, repetitive, conventional, and minor) and will examine them much more extensively throughout the book.

56. Originally published in NTS 28 (1982) 220-236.

57. What Martin Hengel and others demonstrated concerning Judaism in Palestine in and around the first century C. E. (i.e., that Hellenism had influenced all Judaism to some extent), Robbins superbly illustrates in Mark's Gospel. Others may give lip service to the abstract concept; Robbins demonstrates it concretely in his interpretation of the text. 

58. My own predisposition is to examine these texts at a somewhat higher level of abstraction in terms of cultural analysis. An interpreter should take seriously the cultural values of honor/shame, purity rules, and the other social, cultural, political, and economic codes inherent in the texts of the first-century Mediterranean area. Socio-rhetorical criticism is amenable to these insights, but cultural anthropological investigations of the New Testament were in their infancy at the time Robbins wrote this chapter. I shall return to this point later. 

59. Robbins' use of literary criticism becomes even more overt in this article. Note his comment about "most current analysis" being informed by the "relation of tradition to redaction" (p. 140, n. 8). Robbins' scholarly journey from such analyses to his "comparative analysis" is fascinating to survey. Now he is more interested in the "relation of narrative to discourse," as well as many other literary/rhetorical features. Note also, however, that Robbins still interacts with standard historical-critical scholarship, primarily in the footnotes.

60. To facilitate the readers' ability to examine the article for themselves, I will note these items in the order in which they are found in the text. 

61. Even Tannaitic literature does not show close similarities. For example, rabbis do not go to people to persuade them to become talmidim; instead that person must go to the rabbi and persuade the rabbi to accept him as a disciple (p. 153). 

62. Joseph B. Tyson, "The Blindness of the Disciples in Mark," JBL 80 (1961) 261-268.

63. Etienne Trocmé, The Formation of the Gospel according to Mark (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1975).

64. Werner H. Kelber, Mark's Story of Jesus (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979).

65. For example, Kelber claimed: that the disciples emerge "as the true opponents of Jesus" (p. 42); "those who are closest to Jesus and claim to know best of all may be furthest from the truth" (p. 56); "Mark's story ends with the triumph of Jesus and the downfall of the disciples" (p. 71); "There is no way that the disciples can become the leaders of the Kingdom of God" (p. 87). 

66. See Higbie, Character, p. 10.

67. Baruch Hochman, Character in Literature (New York: Cornell University Press, 1985) 31.

68. See chapter 6 below, p. 151.

69. Jesus the Teacher, p. 158.

70. Jesus the Teacher, pp. 167-168. See also the insightful observations of Fowler, Let the Reader Understand, pp. 256-260.

71. Jesus the Teacher, pp. 204-209.

72. Originally published in Semeia 29 (1984) 43-74. 

73. I am thinking primarily of the form critical assumptions of such scholars as Dibelius and Bultmann, as well as later redaction and composition critics. Note, for example, the critiques of Bultmann found on pages 158, 169, 173. Robbins has returned to his scholastic roots, but redirects those tendrils in a more fertile direction. For further reading, see his important opening chapter of Patterns of Persuasion, "Chreia and Pronouncement Story in Synoptic Studies," pp. 1-29. Also significant is Robbins' "The Chreia," in Greco-Roman Literature and the New Testament, ed. David E. Aune (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1988) 1-23. 

74. Robbins' stint with the Chreia Project at the Institute for Antiquity and Christianity at Claremont in the Spring of 1982 facilitated these initial insights concerning chreiai. 

75. The reader should see Robbins' "Writing as a Rhetorical Act in Plutarch and the Gospels," in Persuasive Artistry: Studies in New Testament Rhetoric in Honor of George A. Kennedy, ed. Duane F. Watson, JSNT Supplement Series 50 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press) 142-168. In that article, Robbins observes the crucial differences between oral culture, scribal culture, rhetorical culture, and print culture. New Testament documents were produced in a culture characterized by interaction among the first three types of culture. This culture exhibited a spectrum with five types of writing: (1) scribal reproduction; (2) progymnastic composition; (3) narrative composition; (4) discursive composition; and (5) poetic composition (p. 145). See also Stanley F. Bonner, Education in Ancient Rome (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1977) 250-259. 

76. The work of Werner Kelber, The Oral and the Written Gospel (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983) and Robert Fowler, Let the Reader Understand both should be critiqued in this regard. See also T. M. Lenz, Orality and Literacy in Hellenic Culture (Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1989). 

77. Robbins' study also implicitly suggests the need for a more nuanced view of intertextuality. For further insights concerning his understanding of intertextuality, see Robbins' "The Reversed Contextualization of Psalm 22 in the Markan Crucifixion: A Socio-Rhetorical Analysis," in The Four Gospels 1992. Festschrift Frans Neirynck, ed. F. van Segbroeck, C. M. Tuckett, G. van Belle, J. Verheyden, vol. 2, BETL 100 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1992) 1161-1183. In that study, Robbins notes that intertextuality is not limited to causative or diachronic influence. Therefore the concept of a "ghetto religion" ideology (i.e., Christianity as a "unique" culture isolated from Mediterranean culture and society) is incomprehensible. Mark, in fact, demonstrates that the text lives "a real life . . . in an environment of social heteroglossia" (Bakhtin, Dialogic Imagination, p. 292). Robbins concludes in this study that Psalm 22 plays a "generative role" in the Markan formulation of the crucifixion account, but that Mark also dialogues with a "cultural discourse" of a ritual mocking and abuse of a prisoner at an annual festival (e.g., the Persian Ritual at the Sacian Feast). Robbins thus succeeds in expanding intertextual boundaries for studies of the Markan crucifixion narrative. 

78. This study originally appeared in New Testament Studies 33 (1987) 502-515.

79. It is interesting to see Robbins' interest in "social reality" juxtaposed with his recognition that a narrator is telling the story (p. 195). To a certain extent, narrative criticism's fear of the so-called "referential fallacy" led it away, initially, from acknowledging the social function and interaction of all pieces of literature. For further reading, see Robbins' "Luke-Acts: A Mixed Population Seeks a Home in the Roman Empire," in Images of Empire, ed. Loveday Alexander, JSOT 122 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1991) 202-221. Robbins asserts that Luke-Acts is a "narrative map grounded in an ideology that supported Christians who were building alliances with local leaders throughout the eastern Roman Empire." Its language, therefore, "merges social and historical geography" (p. 202). See also Robbins' "The Social Location of the Implied Author of Luke-Acts," in The Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation, ed. J. H. Neyrey (Peabody, MS: Hendrickson, 1991) 305-332. This methodological advance is a provocative, creative merger of social and narratological forms of analysis. When he read my book manuscript in 1989, which attempted a similar methodology, Robbins shared his already completed article with me. Since our philosophies and approaches were similar, we initiated a productive correspondence. 

80. I should add a further clarification to note 77, above. In another paper on the Markan crucifixion narrative presented to the 1989 SBL Annual Meeting in Anaheim ("A Social-Rhetorical Analysis of the Crucifixion Narrative in Mark"), Robbins noted the "cultural and social affinity" of the Markan crucifixion with the death of Eleazar in 4 Maccabees. Both accounts follow a general "conventional pattern and mode." Robbins also pointed to Josephus' account of Simon bar Giora's death, as well as Dio Chrysostom's discussion of true kingship (Discourses 3 and 4). There are variations on this conventional pattern, of course, because the authors have different rhetorical agendas (e.g., Psalm 22 is a direct literary connection, yet the ideological, ironic perception of kingship should lead interpreters to explore other cultural discourses).

Robbins' progressive understanding of intertextuality has led to severe critiques from scholars whose ideological paradigm remains entrenched in a more traditional, theological, historical-critical paradigm. A prime example is Paul Maier's otherwise positive review of Jesus the Teacher (in The Christian Century 101 [August 1-8, 1984] 752-753). Maier contends that Robbins moved "beyond the evidence" when talking about "parallels" and critiques Robbins for allegedly asserting that Mark is a non-historical "literary copy" of an event found in Dio Chrysostrom, when we all know that Mark preceded Dio's account (p. 753). Robbins, in fact, was not discussing the historicity of either account. Second, Robbins never asserted, in generic literary-historical fashion, that Mark copied a literary text. Robbins contends, in a social semiotic paradigm, that Mark's structuring of the scenes is a "written performance of a cultural tradition" (Jesus the Teacher, p. xxvi; see also Robbins' "Picking Up the Fragments: From Crossan's Analysis to Rhetorical Analysis," Forum 1:2 [1985] 45-53). Robbins and Maier thus represent two different paradigms of research, and further dialogue between those two paradigms is essential. We need to expand our boundaries in order to dialogue productively with one another. 

81. Robbins utilizes a comparative text from Plutarch's "De Laude Ipsius" to illustrate this social practice.

82. See Gowler, Host, Guest, Enemy, and Friend, p. 19.

83. Robbins' conclusions are found on pp. 199-200.

84. Robbins was a Fulbright Scholar during 1983-84 at the University of Trondheim. The article was originally published in Context, Festskrift til Peder Johan Borgen, edited by Peter Wilhelm Böckman and Roald E. Kristiansen, Relieff 24 (Universitetet i Trondheim: Tapir, 1987) 177-195.

85. One key example, utilizing the influence of both "scriptural culture" and the Progymnasmata of Hermogenes, is found on pp. 213-214.

86. Robbins was a charter member of the Jesus Seminar (1985-1990).

87. In a sense, once again, Robbins returned to his roots, but seeks to reevaluate earlier assumptions of scholarship. I should note that Norman Perrin, Robbins' Doctoral Father and one of the persons to whom Jesus the Teacher is dedicated, authored the classic Rediscovering the Teaching of Jesus (New York: Harper & Row, 1967) while Robbins was his student at the University of Chicago. Robbins and Dennis C. Duling assisted Perrin in that endeavor.

88. See also p. 207: "[R]eliable clues to the context of the saying in Jesus' ministry have been lost to us, and we should admit it." Robbins also returns to his roots by approvingly quoting Bultmann in this context. In other words, the Quest, New Quest, and the New, New Quest (the Jesus Seminar) can only take us so far.

89. Robbins made greater use of modern rhetoric, such as the works of Kenneth Burke. Kennedy did admit, however, that Robbins did deal "in his own way" with classical rhetoric's emphases on invention, arrangement, and style. See Kennedy's review of Jesus the Teacher in Rhetorica 4, no. 1 (1986) 67-72. 

90. For example, Robbins makes abundant use of the three species of rhetoric: deliberative, judicial, and epideictic.

91. I would also recommend Ernst Käsemann's seminal study, "Sentences of Holy Law in the New Testament," in New Testament Questions of Today (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1969) 66-81, for another perspective on the manner in which early Christians perpetuated "the voice" and authority of Jesus after his death.

92. Originally published in New Perspectives on Ancient Judaism, ed. Paul V. M. Flesher (Lanham, NY: University Press of America, 1990) 47-72. 

93. Robbins, once again, does not claim exclusive insights into "the meaning" of these texts: "Socio-rhetorical criticism assumes that a wide variety of readings are possible and natural" because of the inherent nature of both readers and texts (p. 222). Socio-rhetorical criticism is a productive approach, because through such procedures as comparative analysis, its readings are supported by "warranted evidence and argumentation" (p. 222). 

94. The reader will find a synopsis of the five-part outline of this chapter on pages 222-223. An example of Mark's "intercultural nature": In certain social and rhetorical features, Mark follows patterns found in Hebrew Bible prophetic literature. When Mark diverges from those patterns, it follows Greco-Roman patterns (see p. 222). 

95. I do not mean to imply that Robbins was unaware of these codes previously. He was a charter member of the (former) Social Facets Seminar (now the Context Group), published a groundbreaking article in The Social World of Luke-Acts ("The Social Location of the Implied Author"), and is still involved with the Context Group.

96. Thus Robbins is also acutely aware that many interpreters who utilize the honor and shame cultural framework either are unaware or blissfully ignore that the colloquial "unity of the Mediterranean" is an abstract concept which is greatly oversimplified in many current studies. There was and is a wide variety of cultures in the Mediterranean area, and cultural information should be, in part at least, gleaned from the texts and carefully evaluated. Note Robbins' aside concerning how different Mark is from the Memorabilia (e.g., p. 240). 

97. Ancient rhetoricians discussed action-chreiai, sayings-chreiai, and mixed-chreiai. Therefore, action, speech, or a mixture of the two may be the primary form of a rhetorical unit. Bultmann's preoccupation with the sayings material led to a deficient analysis of the New Testament apophthegm (pronouncement story/chreia). See Robbins' "Chreia & Pronouncement Story in Synoptic Studies," in Patterns of Persuasion, pp. 1-29. 

98. As noted above, many New Testament scholars are unwilling -- for theological reasons or because of their unfamiliarity with the material -- to admit that the Gospels contain appreciable amounts of Greco-Roman social and rhetorical patterns. As we now should realize, Hellenistic culture influenced all Diaspora Judaism and Palestinian Judaism to a certain extent. I therefore find it particularly ironic to see Martin Hengel -- who vividly demonstrated the deep inroads of Hellenistic culture and practice in Syro-Palestine -- in practice vigorously deny such contacts in his "intertextual" analyses of New Testament texts. 

99. I have followed Robbins' work since 1978 for two main reasons: a) I agree with his basic philosophical approach to these texts as ancient narratives, and b) his insights have greatly facilitated my own work over those years.

100. Once again, see McLaughlin, "Introduction," p. 6.

101. See the closing pages of Robbins' "A Socio-Rhetorical Look at the Work of John Knox on Luke-Acts."

102. "Using a Socio-Rhetorical Poetics to Develop a Unified Method: The Woman who Anointed Jesus as a Test Case," 1992 Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers (Atlanta: Scholars Press, forthcoming).

103. See, once again, the closing pages of Robbins' "A Socio-Rhetorical Look at the Work of John Knox on Luke-Acts."

104. Stephen Greenblatt noted that sometimes it may appear that "analysis of culture is the servant of literary study, but in a liberal education broadly conceived it is literary study that is the servant of cultural understanding" ("Culture," p. 227).

105. See a similar plea in David B. Gowler, "Hospitality and Characterization in Luke 11:37-54: A Socio-Narratological Approach," Semeia, forthcoming, as well as Gowler, Host, Guest, Enemy, and Friend, pp. 1-27, 317-319; and Gowler, "Characterization in Luke: A Socio-Narratological Approach," BTB 19:2 (1989) 54-62. 

106. Jesus the Teacher, p. xxxviii.

107. "If you don't believe it, you will see when you go to fry the eggs." Don Quixote, Part I, Chapter XXXVII (Miguel de Cervantes, El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quijote de la Mancha [Barcelona: Ediciones Nauta, S. A., 1970] 369). Or as Motteux paraphrased in his English translation: "The proof of the pudding is in the eating." See Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote de la Mancha, trans. Peter Motteux (New York: Random House, 1941) 419.