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Cain and Abel in Early Christian

Memory: A Case Study in “The Use

of the Old Testament in the New”

TOM THATCHER

Cincinnati Christian UniversityCincinnati, OH 45204

Clearly,

the story of Cain

became an interpretive space

that longed to be filled.1

IN A RECENT CBQ ARTICLE entitled “Righteous Abel, Wicked Cain,” Joel N.

Lohr explores the representation of the enigmatic eldest sons of Adam and Eve in

the MT, the LXX, and the NT.2 Lohr concentrates particularly on the liberties taken

by the LXX translators, who appear to have “clarified” a number of ambiguities

in the Genesis account in a way that reflects a nuanced reading of the biblical nar-

rative. He proceeds to argue that the NT authors, who of course typically follow

the LXX, absorbed these same assumptions, as is evident from the various contexts

in which they explicitly allude to Cain and/or Abel. Lohr closes by outlining the

exegetical and theological implications of his observations, particularly as these

relate to contemporary Christian responses to “unchosen” individuals such as

Cain.3

1 Gene L. Green, Jude and 2 Peter (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament;

Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008) 90.

2 Joel N. Lohr, “Righteous Abel, Wicked Cain: Genesis 4:1-16 in the Masoretic Text, the Sep-tuagint, and the New Testament,”CBQ 71 (2009) 485-96.

3 Ibid 495 96



Lohr’s study is fascinating for several reasons, not least because it highlights

an intriguing illustration of the inherently interpretive dimension of any biblical

translation (ancient or modern). Yet, in my view, Lohr stops short just at the point

where his observations might have yielded the most interesting interpretive fruit.Specifically, although Lohr traces the contours of the LXX and NT readings of

Cain and Abel—and I will shortly summarize his argument for those who are not

familiar with it—he does not venture an answer to the obvious question, Why did

the LXX translators and the NT authors interpret the Genesis account in the par-

ticular ways in which they did? In the case of the NT particularly, What factors

shaped early Christian memory of these tragic figures from the ancient past, and

what rhetorical purposes did the evocation of Cain and Abel serve?

To answer this question, I will first summarize Lohr’s discussion, noting key

components of the LXX reading of the Genesis narrative, which was obviously

foundational for Christian understandings of Cain and Abel. I will then describe

strategies that groups (such as the early Christians) typically use to appropriate

figures from the past (such as Cain and Abel) in service of present social needs,

particularly the need to solidify a collective sense of identity. Finally, I will exam-

ine a number of NT texts in which the infamous brothers, and the commemorative

themes associated with them, emerge. This study will reveal that the memory of

Cain and Abel played an important role in early Christian identity formation, pro-

viding (a) a means for Christians to rationalize experiences of rejection and per-

secution from forces outside the church in terms drawn from the sacred texts in

which the great tradition of Israel was grounded, and (b) a means for orthodox

Christians to rationalize doctrinal divisions within their communities in terms that

affirmed their own positions while vilifying the motives of their opponents. Aside

from these narrower conclusions on the specific case of Cain and Abel, I will raise

a number of general methodological questions relevant to the broader study of “the

use of the Old Testament in the New.”

I. “Righteous Abel, Wicked Cain”

Lohr frames his discussion in terms of the “long-standing interpretive crux

in the story of Cain and Abel (Gen 4:1-16) regarding why God looks with favor

on Abel but not on Cain.”4 The Hebrew Bible is unclear on several details of the

story that might shed light on God’s rejection of Cain’s grain/vegetable offering

and preference for Abel’s gift of meat (Gen 4:3-5). Efforts to resolve the dilemma

are evident already in the LXX, which Lohr characterizes as “A Theological Trans-

lation” of the story.5 He supports this claim by highlighting a number of key dif-

CAIN AND ABEL IN EARLY CHRISTIAN MEMORY 733

4 Ibid., 485.5 Ibid 486 91 h 486



ferences between the MT reading of Gen 4:1-16 and the version of the narrative

found in the LXX.6 A brief review of his observations will highlight three key ele-

ments of the LXX’s interpretation of the passage; these elements, in turn, clearly

influenced early Christian recollections of the tragic brothers.7

First, the LXX rendering of Genesis 4 attempts to portray Cain’s sacrifice as

somehow inherently insufficient. For example, whereas the MT uses the same

word ( ) to describe the respective “gifts” that the two brothers set before Godמנ

(vv. 4-5), the LXX refers to Cain’s offering as a θυσία while labeling Abel’s offer-

ing a δῶρον. This is a particularly notable rendering in view of the fact that the

former term might bring to mind the act of slaying a victim, whereas Cain, of

course, brings a gift of grain. By analogy with Philo’s reading of the story in QG

1.62, Lohr views this translation as an attempt to differentiate the respective offer-

ings qualitatively, specifically by implying that Cain’s is somehow flawed. Further

evidence for this conclusion may be found in God’s advice to Cain in vv. 6-7. As

the NRSV indicates, the Hebrew “seems to speak of God’s counseling Cain to do

the right thing and master the sin that awaits in the future”: “Why are you angry,

and why has your countenance fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted?

And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you

must master it.” The LXX remarkably renders God’s second question (v. 7a, high-

lighted above) as οὐκ ἐὰν ὀρθῶς προσενέγκῃς ὀρθῶς δὲ μὴ διέλῃς ἥμαρτες (“If

you offer rightly but do not divide [the offering] rightly, do you not sin?”), with

the repetition of ὀρθῶς, particularly as a modifier for διέρχομαι in the second

occurrence, clearly suggesting some irregularity in the way Cain has “divided” or

apportioned his offering.8 Overall in the LXX, Cain is clearly guilty of an oversight

in ritual procedure, one that renders his sacrifice inherently unacceptable.

Second, the LXX rendering raises doubts not only about the quality of Cain’s

offering but also about the quality of his character . As noted above, God’s question

in v. 7a concludes with the word ἥμαρτες, suggesting that Cain has already

“sinned” in some way by bringing an improper offering. God’s reaction to this sin-

ful act is appropriately negative. The MT uses the same verb,שע

, to describeGod’s reflections on the offerings of both brothers, but the LXX renders the term

as ἐπεῖδεν in reference to God’s positive appraisal of Abel’s gift while using

προσέσχεν in reference to God’s rejection of Cain’s sacrifice (vv. 4-5). Τhe former

term is generally used in the LXX to imply God’s favorable attention, but the

734 THE CATHOLIC BIBLICAL QUARTERLY | 72, 2010

6 For sake of argument, I grant Lohr the premise that observable differences between the cur-

rent texts of the MT and LXX can be understood as distinct interpretive moves on the part of the

LXX translators.

7 Lohr identifies seven specific points where the LXX modifies the Genesis narrative in waysthat vilify Cain while valorizing Abel (see esp. “Righteous Abel,” 491). I focus here on those points

th t t i ifi t b th t L h ’ t d t th NT i ti f th LXX di



negated form of the latter in this context suggests “rejecting or forsaking.” One

may therefore conclude that “the [LXX] translator wished to emphasize a divine

rejection, perhaps a forsaking, of Cain in a way that clearly distinguishes him from

Abel.”9 The validity of God’s judgment is entirely affirmed by the LXX renderingof Cain’s words to Abel in v. 8. Whereas the MT notoriously does not indicate

what, and perhaps not even whether, Cain speaks to his brother, the LXX shows

him inviting Abel to a private meeting in the field where he will murder him

(διέλθωμεν εἰς τὸ πεδίον, “let us go into the field”). As Lohr points out, this brief

note not only explains how Cain and Abel found themselves alone but also specif-

ically suggests that the murder was premeditated.10 God’s earlier judgment of

Cain’s sinful character is thus tragically confirmed by the dénouement of the story.

Third and finally, the LXX rendering highlights the ironic tragedy of the

sequence by emphasizing Abel’s goodness. As noted earlier, whereas the MT uses

the term מנ to describe each brother’s offering, the LXX refers to Abel’s as a

“gift” (δῶρον). This translation reflects a general tendency in the LXX version of

Genesis, but Lohr suggests, again by analogy to Philo’s QG 1.62, that the notion

of “giving” could be associated here with a more genuine love for God. Not sur-

prisingly, then, the LXX uses ἐπεῖδεν in v. 4 to suggest that God looks favorably

on Abel’s sacrifice (cf. NRSV: “the LORD had regard for Abel and his offering”).11

Further, although Lohr does not highlight the point, the LXX’s emphasis on Cain’s

premeditation of murder tends to valorize Abel by portraying him as the innocent

and unwitting victim of an unjust scheme. Thus, even with his voice silenced in

death, Abel’s innocent blood cries to God from the ground and, like his offering,

his testimony is favorably heard (v. 10). One can readily see how the LXX render-

ing could inspire Jewish authors of the Second Temple era to view Abel as “the

prototypical righteous martyr.”12

Moving beyond these observations about the theological posture of the LXX

translators, Lohr proceeds to demonstrate that “the NT . . . received the LXX trans-

lation [of Genesis 4] without reservation.” Limiting his observations to passages

where one or both of the brothers are mentioned specifically by name, Lohr notesthat “repeatedly [in the NT] Cain is regarded as evil because his offering is inferior

or because he somehow lacks faith,” whereas Abel is consistently portrayed as

faithful and, therefore, righteous. Indeed, in some instances the NT authors trans-

form the murder into an act of sacrifice, with Abel’s blood becoming something

of a sacred offering (see Matt 23:34-36; Heb 12:24).13


9 Ibid., 487-88, here 488.10 Ibid., 490. A similar reading seems to underlie Jub. 4:5-6, which interprets Cain’s act of

murder as an archetypal instance of treachery and injustice.11 Ibid., 487-88.12 Ibid 494



In my view, Lohr’s discussion convincingly documents the peculiar biases of

the LXX and NT renderings of Cain and Abel. The evidence he cites readily sug-

gests that both the LXX and the NT have gone far beyond the MT in portraying

Cain’s offering and character as flawed, a move that tends to magnify Abel’s righ-teousness. It also seems clear that the NT perspective is largely colored by the

LXX reading—indeed, the NT authors appear to accept the LXX rendering of Cain

and Abel uncritically. But the simple observation that this is the case fails to explain

(a) why the NT authors would ever refer to these obscure figures from the primor-

dial past in the first place, (b) why early Christians embraced the LXX perspective

on Cain and Abel, and (c) how references to Cain and Abel functioned in early

Christian rhetoric. In the remainder of this article, I will explore the reasons why,

and strategies by which, communities shape recollections of the past in service of

present social needs. I will then proceed to outline the specific value and function

of Cain and Abel in early Christian memory, and will close by offering several

general reflections for future research on early Christian use of the OT.

II. The Past as Key to the Present: Collective Memory

and Communal Identity

In the broad scope of NT scholarship, studies such as Lohr’s (and mine here)

would generally fall under the heading “the use of the Old Testament in the New.”

14

Traditionally, this line of research has been driven by literary concerns, comparing

texts to texts in order to determine, for example, whether a NT author seems to

have drawn material from the MT, the LXX, or some other ancient manuscript tra-

dition; how OT verses have been combined, revised, or paraphrased to fit the needs

of a NT context; or, what specific theological values a NT author has appropriated

in citing a passage from the Jewish Scriptures. Lohr’s excellent study is a case in

point: concentrating heavily on intertextual relationships among the MT, the LXX,

and the NT documents as documents, Lohr does not comment on the larger social

contexts in which the NT writings (or the LXX) were composed and published,the psychological and communicative dynamics of those contexts, and the rhetor-

ical function of appeals to a sacred past in such settings. His conclusions are there-

fore limited to a number of insightful observations based on the similarities and

differences among the respective texts, following the assumption that a compara-

tive analysis may expose a bias on the part of one or another ancient author/

translator. Yet these conclusions raise the obvious question noted earlier: Why did

the LXX translators and the NT authors interpret the Genesis account in the par-


14 I refer here to the aspect of Lohr’s study that is concerned with NT appropriations of the

LXX di d th i i li ti f t Ch i ti th l i l di i L h ’



ticular ways in which they did? Particularly in the case of the latter, Why did the

NT authors refer to Cain and Abel at all? How and why did the story of these tragic

brothers from the ancient past become meaningful to early Christians?

To answer these questions, I will extend not only Lohr’s observations but alsohis methodological approach by appealing to interdisciplinary models that explain

the complex interplay between past and present in the collective memory of groups

such as the early Christian communities. New Testament references to Cain and

Abel should be viewed not simply as “citations,” more or less accurate, of Genesis

4, but also and primarily as instances of early Christian collective memory—

in this case, a memory not only of the LXX text but also of Cain and Abel as his-

torical figures, inasmuch as early Christians would likely have understood the LXX

account to be an accurate representation of the actual past. As a general rule, the

relationship between collective memory frameworks and the texts produced within

them is mutually revealing; here particularly, the way in which early Christians

talked about Cain and Abel is a reflex of the reasons why they did so, not simply

an accident of the fact that they tended to quote the LXX. Put another way, if the

NT authors appropriated the interpretive moves evident in the LXX story of Cain

and Abel, as Lohr suggests, they must have done so because it was possible for

them to construct and respond to their current experiences in terms drawn from

LXX Genesis 4.

Two key premises of social/collective memory theory are helpful in under-

standing why the NT authors presented Cain and Abel to their respective Christian

audiences in the specific ways in which they did. First, groups tend to explain and

react to current circumstances by “keying” them to past situations. Second, the

remembered past plays a critical role in the formation and maintenance of a

group’s sense of collective identity. Although these two premises are now essen-

tially common knowledge in studies of the media culture of early Christianity, a

brief review of each will indicate their potential significance for the NT appropri-

ation of Cain and Abel and other OT characters and events.

First, social memory theories are grounded in the observation that the remembered past and present circumstances are mutually defining. In the words of soci-

ologist Barry Schwartz, the remembered past serves as “a model of society and a

model for society.” The past is a model “of ” society in the sense that the actual

past must be framed in familiar terms and translated into current circumstances in

order to be meaningful; the past is a model “for” society in the sense that past

precedents provide “a program in terms of which . . . present lines of conduct can

be formulated and enacted.”15 Schwartz refers to the commemorative strategy


15 Barry Schwartz, Abraham Lincoln and the Forge of National Memory (Chicago: University

f Chi P 2000) 18 226 294 h 18 l id Ab h Li l i th P t H i



through which past and present are assimilated as “keying.” In simple terms, “key-

ing transforms the meaning of present activities by aligning them to past events.”16

The psychological benefits of this move are obvious: “even the most terrible events

are somehow less terrifying when viewed within old patterns rather than in their bewildering specificity.”17 To take but one notable example, Yosef Hayim

Yerushalmi has demonstrated that medieval Jewish historians “tend[ed] to assim-

ilate [current] events to . . . established conceptual frameworks,” with the result

that the novelty of the present was de-emphasized and reduced to traditional arche-

typal patterns. Biblical story lines, and even names, were often imposed on current

situations and people/places in order to key community experiences to the sacred

text, thus extending the narrative of salvation history into the present.18 In this

way, keying allows the past to function as a “frame” for present experience, pro-

viding patterns of coherence that help members of a group make sense of what is

happening and determine appropriate responses.19 New experiences may be nor-

malized by casting them in the molds of archetypal images and established scripts,

thus providing a sense of order and continuity that offers emotional and strategic

resources for current challenges.

As the above example indicates, keying is particularly effective when current

events can be linked to archetypal narratives and figures whose symbolic value is

well established. These “landmarks” of memory are significant simply because

their names are overdetermined, evoking not only (or even primarily) their actual

historical referents but also entire ideological networks, what Jan Assmann calls

Erinnerungsfiguren.20 Thus, popular representations of the infamous Australian

outlaw Ned Kelly refer not only to a person from the actual past but also, and often

primarily, to a larger complex of ideas about the “wild frontier,” just as the word

“Auschwitz” does not refer simply, or now even primarily, to a place on a map of

Poland, but rather to a vast and intricate web of political, moral, and religious con-


Press, 2008) xi; David Lowenthal, Possessed by the Past: The Heritage Crusade and the Spoils of History (New York: Free Press, 1996) 139-54.16 Schwartz, Post-Heroic Era, xi; see also idem, Forge of National Memory, 225-26.17 Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Samuel and Althea

Stroum Lectures in Jewish Studies; 1982; repr., New York: Schocken, 1989) 36.18 Ibid., 36-39, here 36.19 Schwartz, Post-Heroic Era, xi. In Schwartz’s model, “keying” is a commemorative strategy,

while the keyed items/events drawn from the past together compose a memory “frame.” “Abraham

Lincoln, thus, frames present events when the latter have been convincinglykeyed to his life” (ibid.;

emphasis original).20 Jan Assmann, Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung und politische Identität in

frühen Hochkulturen (C. H. Beck Kulturwissenschaft; Munich: Beck, 1992). The term “landmarks[ points de repère] of memory” is borrowed from Maurice Halbwachs; see his On Collective Memory

( d d t L i A C H it f S i l Chi U i it f Chi P 1992)



cerns that dramatically impact global society. Landmark memory figures function

as convenient indexes of a group’s core values, and their evocation provides a

quick and effective framework for understanding the present as a continuation of

the remembered past.Turning to the second key premise of social memory theory noted above, as

mnemonic keys draw forth the values of a great tradition and filter them through

the realities of present experience, the past becomes a powerful force in identity

formation. As James Fentress and Chris Wickham observe, “social memory iden-

tifies a group, giving it a sense of its past and defining its aspirations for the future.”

Memory achieves this effect largely through the principle of continuity, the notion

that present circumstances are somehow the product of past realities—indeed,

“memory [always] represents the past and the present as connected to each other,

and consistent with each other.”21 The rhetorical force of this sense of “heritage”

is magnified by the fact that recollections of the past are both built upon and inform

community values. As such, appeals to archetypal narratives and landmark histor-

ical figures substantially reinforce the underlying beliefs and commitments from

which group identity is forged.22 Indeed, the simple fact that people can meaning-

fully communicate about “the past” as a perceived unified phenomenon is a pow-

erful force in social cohesion, binding individuals who believe they have something

in common.

Because the commemorated past establishes a sense of “heritage” that informs

group identity, collective memory has an inherently normative force, a force that

can be harnessed for rhetorical purposes. As Alan Kirk notes, “It is by virtue of its

normativity that the past makes programmatic, urgent claims upon a community.”23

Operating in its normative function, the collective past provides “moral models”

that tie individuals of today to the larger history of the group.24 To take but one

significant example, Schwartz has shown how former president Abraham Lincoln

(1809–1865) has functioned in American public discourse as a “guiding pattern”


21 James Fentress and Chris Wickham,Social Memory (New Perspectives on the Past; Cam-

bridge, MA: Blackwell, 1992) 25, 24. See also Schwartz, Post-Heroic Era, 18.22 See here the helpful overview in Alan Kirk, “Social and Cultural Memory,” in Memory,

Tradition, and Text: Uses of the Past in Early Christianity (ed. Alan Kirk and Tom Thatcher;

SBLSS 52; Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005) 1-24, esp. 17-22. Also Paul Connerton,

How Societies Remember (Themes in the Social Sciences; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,

1989) 1-4, 12-13, 39-40; Philip Esler, “Collective Memory and Hebrews 11: Outlining a New Inves-

tigative Framework,” in Memory, Tradition, and Text (ed. Kirk and Thatcher), 151-71, here 155-58.23 Kirk, “Social and Cultural Memory,” 17-19, here 18. See also Assmann, Das kulturelle

Gedächtnis,76-80; and Liisa Malkki ( Purity and Exile: Violence, Memory, and National Cosmology

among Hutu Refugees in Tanzania [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995] esp. 54, 244), whoargues that commemorative narratives order the past in “fundamentally moral terms” by reducing

t d t t t t i l h th t fl t th ’ b i f l



that defines national identity and values and, thus, prescribes courses of appropriate

action. Lincoln’s perceived example creates a backdrop for questions concerning

“(1) goals and purposes, (2) standards of intellectual and moral judgment, (3) val-

ues and priorities, (4) strategies of action, and (5) personal dispositions.” In thisway, the question, What would Lincoln do? becomes meaningful and persuasive

as Americans chart a course through difficult circumstances and periods of social

change.25

III. Reenacting a Murder: Cain and Abel in Christian Memory

In terms of the theoretical model outlined above, Cain and Abel clearly func-

tioned as landmarks in early Christian memory. As such, any allusion to their

names, or even to structural elements of their story as known from LXX Genesis

4, would tap into a larger complex of values that were essential to early Christian

identity. By keying an uncertain present to the sacred past of the biblical narrative,

the NT authors could provide a powerful rationale for, and normative course of

action in response to, current experience. At the same time, current experience

shaped the commemorative contours of these biblical characters, refracting ele-

ments of their story in ways that suited the rhetorical situations behind the NT doc-

uments. Early Christian rhetoric thus extended the work of the LXX translators to

produce a unique application of the sacred text.

A close examination of the various NT contexts in which Cain and Abel are

evoked reveals that early Christians appealed to these figures to reinforce group

identity in the face of two types of crises. First, when Christians experienced per-

ceived persecution from outside forces, Cain and Abel could serve to explain why

the righteous sometimes suffer at the hands of the wicked. Second, when Christian

communities were divided by serious doctrinal differences, the evocation of Cain

and Abel could explain the emergence of tensions between “brothers” in terms that

would valorize one’s own position while villainizing that of the opponents. In both

rhetorical trajectories, links between sacred past and traumatic present were estab-lished by five mnemonic “keys”: Abel, Cain, the respective “sacrifices” of the two

brothers, the act of murdering a brother, and Cain’s willful rejection of God’s warn-

ing. As Lohr observes, all five of these memory keys were drawn from the LXX

reading of Genesis 4, with appropriate reshaping of the biases already inherent in

that text to reflect the peculiar framework of early Christian experience.26


25 Ibid., 28-29.26 Of course, it is possible that early Christian representations of Cain and Abel were influ-

enced not only by the LXX but also by the rich variety of legends that seem to have surroundedthese figures in ancient Judaism. The discussion here deals exclusively with the impact of the LXX

Ch i ti f l ti l d th d l i l P ti ll



• Key 1: Abel. As noted earlier, the LXX highlights the purity of Abel’s sac-

rifice. Extending this premise, early Christian memory portrayed Abel as

the prototypical Christian, who suffered only because his “offering” (faith

in Christ) was acceptable to God (cf. Jub. 4:1-2). By emphasizing Abel’srighteousness, orthodox Christians could essentially wash their hands of

any responsibility for inner-faith tensions or conflicts with mainstream

Judaism or the Roman state.

• Key 2: Cain. Following the biases inherent in the LXX, the early Christians

remembered Cain as the ultimate representative of those who claim to serve

God while willfully rejecting God’s commands. Depending on the specific

commemorative context, Cain could be associated with nonbelieving Jews,

pagan oppressors, or former Christians who had fallen into perceived apos-

tasy.

• Key 3: The Sacrifices. The respective sacrifices of the two brothers also

were refracted through a specifically Christian framework, again with two

applications depending on the commemorative value of Cain in a given

context. In the framework of situations of external pressure, Cain’s veg-

etable offering, which in the LXX is rejected because of ritual irregularities,

prefigures either the Jewish sacrificial system, which has been superseded

by the death of Christ, or God’s more general rejection of all pagan gestures

of piety. Abel’s meat offering, which pleases God because it is offered in

faith, signifies the body of Jesus, in whom Christians place their faith for

atonement. In the framework of conflict with deviant members of the


and Abel, and such a discussion would, in any case, depart from my intention to dialogue here with

Lohr’s work, which concentrates exclusively on the LXX. Further, and more significantly, even a

longer and less restricted study would be burdened by the simple facts that (a) the very large majority

of these ancient legends cannot be proven to have existed in the mid-first centuryC.E., and (b) even

if they did exist, it cannot be demonstrated that the NT authors were aware of them. The most likely

possible exceptions to (a), Jub. 4:1-7 and 1 Enoch 22:7-8; 84:1-10, cannot conclusively pass (b),although both texts read Genesis 4 in ways that are broadly consistent with the NT reading, as I

note at various points in the course of this essay. The theoretical model employed here—social mem-

ory theory—describes ways that acts of commemoration build on the remembered past and, as such,

assumes that the group under consideration has knowledge of, and has been influenced by, particular

representations of that past. Social memory analysis therefore typically proceeds from specific arti-

facts of commemoration, such as monuments, rituals, sacred times and spaces, and texts—in this

case, the texts of the NT that specifically refer to Cain and Abel—rather than from hypothetical

reconstructions of the total contents of a group’s collective memory. In ascertaining the sources of

NT conceptions of Cain and Abel, there can be no doubt that early Christians were aware of the

LXX and used that text as a resource for constructing their own sense of heritage. It cannot be

demonstrated, however, that the NT authors were aware of the traditions about Cain and Abel thatnow appear, for example, in Philo or the rabbinic literature. This is not to say that such traditions

il i l t b t i l i th t I l k th h t dd th



Christian community, Cain’s incorrect offering morphs into an irregular

christology, which threatens the soteriological efficacy of Jesus’ death by

misconstruing the salvific value of his self-sacrifice, while Abel’s gift stands

for orthodox faith.• Key 4: Murder. Cain’s murder of his brother is transformed by the Christian

framework into the persecution of believers by unbelieving members of the

synagogue or representatives of the state, and/or into the treason of per-

ceived apostates. This commemorative move has the effect of casting doc-

trinal and political disputes in absolute moral terms: any rejection of, or

deviation from, the orthodox Christian position is tantamount to murder.

• Key 5: Willful Rejection. Early Christian appropriations of the Cain and

Abel complex assume that the opponents of orthodox faith willfully reject

God’s commands. Nonbelieving Jews, hostile pagans, and heretical Chris-

tians are, like Cain, somehow aware of God’s displeasure with them yet

stubbornly refuse to repent and bring a proper offering, preferring instead

to trouble those who enjoy God’s favor. This commemorative pattern places

orthodox Christians in an ethically superior position to their opponents,

who are inherently portrayed as either spiritually insensible or willfully

blind. Suffering Christians may rest assured that their enemies, like Cain,

will be “marked” for God’s wrath and driven from God’s presence (see Gen

4:11-16).

The commemorative strategy outlined above both is manifest within and

sheds light on the various NT passages in which the memory of Cain and/or Abel

is evoked. In each of these contexts, mnemonic keys function as landmarks that

summon a larger complex of values derived from the LXX narrative; these values

are then shaped by social circumstances and rhetorical needs into a mnemonic

frame, a normative paradigm for Christian identity and behavior; in the process,

LXX Genesis 4 and present experience become mutually defining. Although an

exhaustive study of every NT context in which Cain and Abel are mentioned is

beyond the scope of the present study, a brief review of several relevant passageswill highlight the rhetorical value of this early Christian commemorative strategy.27

Framework 1: Persecution

As noted above, early Christian appropriations of Cain and Abel sometimes

drew on themes from LXX Genesis 4 to reinforce Christian identity in the face of


27 In the interests of space, the present discussion is limited to instances where Cain and/or Abel are specifically mentioned by name. The presence of any one of the above mnemonic keys in

i tif t f l Ch i ti ld b ffi i t id f th f th l



perceived persecution. In these cases, the rhetorical needs of the immediate situa-

tion reconfigured elements of the biblical narrative to key the sacred past to a trau-

matic present. Commemorative moves of this type are evident in at least three NT

passages where Cain and Abel are specifically mentioned: Matt 23:35//Luke 11:51;Heb 11:4; and Heb 12:24.

Despite the varying emphases in presentation, Matt 23:35 and Luke 11:51

both refer explicitly to several keys in the Cain and Abel complex.28 While the

immediate focus of each passage relates to the impending death of Jesus, both

associate Abel with a larger group of righteous martyr-prophets whom the Jews

had rejected (Matt 23:29-34; Luke 11:47-49). Abel’s innocence is stressed—

Matthew refers to him specifically as Ἅβελ τοῦ δικαίου ( NRSV: “righteous Abel”

[23:35])—to highlight the villainy of Cain’s act of murder, which is here trans-

formed into Jewish culpability for the death of Jesus specifically and, by extension

into the life setting of the later Christian community, the unjust Roman (and pos-

sibly Jewish?) persecution of Christian Jews more generally.29 Cain’s punishment

for his willful sin is transformed into Jesus’ assurance that “this generation” will

bear God’s wrath for rejecting the messenger of truth (Matt 23:36; Luke 11:51).

Matthew’s use of the word ἐφονεύσατε ( NRSV: “murdered”), combined with the

reference to Abel’s “blood” (τοῦ αἵματος Ἅβελ) and the note that Zechariah was

killed “between the sanctuary and the altar,” evokes the image of murder within a

larger sacrificial frame, a move that portrays Abel’s violent death as a form of

acceptable self-sacrifice. Within the Christian memory framework, the double evo-

cation of the deaths of Abel and Jesus at the hands of the rebellious would clearly

define the proper Jewish-Christian understanding of pressure from coreligionists

and pagan authorities: the innocent suffer at the hands of those whom God has

rejected.

Several mnemonic keys from the Cain and Abel complex are evoked in Heb

11:4 to encourage Christians to maintain their distinctive religious identity in the

face of substantial social and economic pressure (see 10:32-34).30 The basic prem-

ise of the LXX Genesis narrative—that Abel’s sacrifice was qualitatively better than Cain’s—is extended in explicitly Christian terms by the note that Abel was


28 For a more extensive analysis of Q 11:51 from the theoretical framework of social memory

theory, see Alan Kirk, “The Memory of Violence and the Death of Jesus in Q,” in Memory, Tradition,

and Text (ed. Kirk and Thatcher), 191-206.29 See ibid., 196-97; R. T. France, The Gospel of Matthew (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,

2007) 878-82; and Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 14–28 (WBC 33B; Dallas: Word, 1995) 676. Ulrich

Luz ( Matthew: A Commentary, vol. 3, Matthew 21–28 [trans. James E. Crouch; Hermeneia; Min-

neapolis: Fortress, 2005] 152-56) particularly emphasizes the paradigmatic relationship of the expe-

riences of the prophets, Jesus, and the early church in Matthew’s presentation.30 The commemorative strategies of Hebrews 11, with particular attention to the relationship

b t lt l d ll ti id tit l d i d t il i E l “C ll ti M



accepted because of his “faith,” which in the framework of Hebrews refers specif-

ically to belief in Christ. This emphasis correspondingly conflates Abel’s meat

offering with the death of Jesus, the soteriological implications of which have been

developed in detail in preceding chapters (9:11–10:18).31 The specific referenceto Cain’s sacrifice, keyed in this context to the temple offerings of non-Christian

Jews, stresses the inferiority of the opponents’ gifts. At first glance, one might con-

clude that the author of Hebrews has moderated the judgmental tone of the LXX:

whereas the LXX translators indicate that Cain “sinned” through his irregular offer-

ing, Hebrews states simply that Abel’s gift was “better” (πλείονα θυσίαν). The

next phrase, however, seems to underscore Abel’s “righteousness” in specific con-

trast to Cain through a transformation and extension of Gen 4:10. In the LXX story,

Abel’s blood “cries out from the ground” to provoke God’s judgment on his

brother’s sin; in the commemorative framework of Hebrews 11, Abel, “though

having died, yet speaks” (ἀποθανὼν ἔτι λαλεῖ), in this case reminding the Christian

audience that suffering at the hands of the wicked leads to God’s blessing.32 Here,

as in Matthew 23, Abel’s offering and his own blood blur into a single act of sac-

rifice that is acceptable to God because it is given in faith, a mnemonic move that

makes suffering a normative element of Christian identity.

Abel’s ongoing “testimony” reemerges in the sudden allusion to his death in

Heb 12:24. Here again, the context of this reference suggests that Abel serves as

a landmark for a larger narrative complex that defines, for the author, a distinctly

Christian identity and that should serve to motivate endurance in the face of sig-

nificant pressure to abandon the faith (see 12:1-17). Continuing the theme of 11:4,

the author mnemonically blurs Abel’s offering with his murder so that his death

becomes a form of self-sacrifice. Specifically in this context, this painful gift is

compared to the death of Jesus, which is portrayed throughout Hebrews as the

most, and perhaps only (see esp. 10:4), acceptable offering to God.33 Jesus, like


31

See here Harold W. Attridge (The Epistle to the Hebrews: A Commentary on the Epistle tothe Hebrews [Hermeneia; Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989] 316), who notes that Abel’s “faith is appro-

priately bound up with his sacrifice [in Heb 11:4], as the faith of Christ is intimately connected to

his sacrificial death (12:1-3).”32 This element of Abel’s story may suggest also that life continues beyond death, encouraging

Christians to endure suffering rather than forsake their faith identity; see Attridge, Epistle to the

Hebrews, 317; David A. deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude: A Socio-Rhetorical Commentary on

the Epistle “to the Hebrews” (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000) 388-89; Luke Timothy Johnson,

Hebrews: A Commentary (NTL; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006) 281-82. That Abel’s

blood cries out to heaven in accusation against his murderer is highlighted also in1 Enoch 22:7-8.33 As Alan C. Mitchell notes ( Hebrews [SacPag 13; Collegville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2007]

284), “How exactly Jesus’ blood speaks a better word or message [than that of Abel] is a point of debate.” Perhaps the majority view suggests that the comparison between Jesus and Abel here is

f bl h Ab l’ bl d i d t f Ch i t’ bl d ll f d “ ff



Abel and the reader of Hebrews, suffered innocently at the hands of those who

rejected him. Though Cain is not mentioned specifically in this context, the com-

memorative complex associated with him emerges in 12:25, where the reader is

warned not to reject the offer of righteousness that is granted via the testimony of Jesus’ (and Abel’s) spilt blood. The phrase βλέπετε μὴ παραιτήσησθε τὸν λαλοῦντα( NRSV: “See that you do not refuse the one who is speaking”) warns the reader

not to follow the way of Cain by ignoring God’s counsel to repent and bring a

better offering. Should the readers forsake their faith, they will, like Cain, face

God’s wrathful judgment (11:25-29).34

The passages surveyed above indicate the rhetorical potential of early Chris-

tian commemorations of Cain and Abel in contexts of perceived persecution. Build-

ing on the LXX reading, Christians could posture themselves as righteous Abel,

whose sacrifice of faith in Christ is acceptable to God. This same mnemonic strat-

egy inherently vilified oppressors by portraying them as Cain, who killed his

brother because his own sacrifices were not received. By interpreting perceived

experiences of religious persecution as “murder,” the NT authors provided their

audiences with a powerful psychological motivation to remain faithful to Christ,

knowing that their pain, like Abel’s blood, would “cry out from the ground” to

earn them a good testimony before God.

Framework 2: Community Conflict

As noted above, Cain and Abel were particularly serviceable as memory land-

marks in contexts where Christians were seeking to establish a distinct identity in

the face of external pressures. Collective memory, however, is plastic, allowing

the past to be reapplied continually to new situations as the need arises. This prin-

ciple is illustrated by NT passages such as Jude 11 and 1 John 3:12, where the


mentaries; Nashville: Abingdon, 1997] 186; see also deSilva, Perseverance, 468; Hans-FriedrichWeiss, Der Brief an die Hebräer: übersetzt und erklärt [KEK 13; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck &

Ruprecht, 1991] 682-83). The reading offered here would suggest a more favorable comparison that

portrays both Jesus and Abel as models of innocent suffering. Jesus’ blood would be “better” (κρείτ-των) than that of Abel in the sense that, while Abel’s blood demonstrated only his own righteousness,

that of Christ had the broader effect of mediating a “new covenant” to all citizens of the heavenly

assembly, including the reader (11:22-23). Those who suffer for doing good identify themselves

with both Abel and Christ, while those who reject God’s word identify themselves with Cain and

his judgment.34 Johnson ( Hebrews, 333-34) connects 12:24 to 12:19 via the repetition of the verb παραι-

τέομαι: in v. 19, the Jews’ request that God say no more at Sinai represents “a refusal of the one

who was speaking to them”; in v. 24, those who now refuse the testimony of Christ’s blood willsuffer even greater judgment. Granting this point, in my reading the author has conflated the images

f C i d th f f l J t Si i t k l ti l th t h i



mnemonic potential of Cain and Abel is refracted through the lens of doctrinal

conflicts within specific Christian communities. In these situations, LXX Genesis 4

provided a mnemonic resource for defining a distinctly orthodox Christian identity

while demonizing opponents.35 Rhetorically, this strategy allowed the NT authorsto affirm their own faith position while inherently marginalizing alternate views.

Jude opens his brief letter by alerting the audience to an emerging identity

crisis within the Christian community. Jude’s own doctrinal position, referred to

here as “the faith having been passed down once for all to the saints” (τῇ ἅπαξπαραδοθείσῃ τοῖς ἁγίοις πίστει [v. 3]), is sharply contrasted with that of certain

individuals who have “deserted/perverted the grace of God” and who, perhaps

thereby, “deny our Lord Jesus Christ” (κύριον ἡμῶν Ἰησοῦν Χριστὸν ἀρνούμενοι[v. 4]).36 This opening volley is followed by a tour through the halls of Jewish col-

lective memory, as Jude proceeds to associate his opponents with a number of infa-

mous figures drawn from the well of a wide range of sacred texts. These include

the Israelites who perished in the desert during the wilderness wandering (v. 5),

the angels who rebelled against God (v. 6), the residents of Sodom and Gomorrah

(v. 7), Balaam (v. 11), and Korah (v. 11). Each of these figures, functioning as a

memory landmark, evokes a larger commemorative narrative that casts deviant

Christians in a negative light, while Jude and those loyal to him are placed in an

elite category with Michael the archangel (v. 9), Enoch (v. 14), Jesus (v. 17), and

the apostles (v. 17).37


35 Cain’s commemorative value as the archetypal heretic, guilty of promoting deviant doctrines

and a sinful lifestyle, was not limited to the early Christian framework. A similar portrait emerges

in Philo (Cher. 65-66; Post. 21, 33-38, 42-43, 49-52; Sacr. 5, 14-16, 72), Josephus ( A.J. 1.52-62),

and in various targums that “include at Gen 4:8 a haggadic expansion of the biblical text in which

Cain’s murder of Abel is represented as the outcome of an argument about the righteousness of

God” (Richard Bauckham, Jude, 2 Peter [WBC 50; Waco: Word, 1983] 80).36 Jude’s use of παραδοθείσῃ as a modifier for τῇ πίστει (v. 3) emphasizes the normative

dimension of established doctrine in defining authentic Christian faith; see here Robert Webb, “The

Use of ‘Story’ in the Letter of Jude: Rhetorical Strategies of Jude’s Narrative Episodes,” JSNT 31

(2008) 53-87, here 75, 79-81.37 Webb’s narrative reading of Jude closely parallels the approach taken here, although without

reference to social memory theory. He identifies three interwoven narrative complexes in the rhetor-

ical substructure of the letter: “the story in Jewish scriptural tradition [including both the Hebrew

Bible and later Jewish traditions] . . . the story of Jesus Christ and . . . the story of the Christian

community” (“Use of ‘Story,’” 54-55, here 55). Webb observes that Jude, in appropriating elements

of these stories, (a) may refer to a specific event in order to evoke a larger narrative context from

the sacred past; (b) blurs and then conflates distinct episodes into larger composite images; (c) some-

times merges details from the Hebrew Bible’s account of an event with subsequent reinterpretations

of that event in other Jewish texts; (d) in at least one instance seems to rely on the audience’s aware-

ness of “certain geographical features” that would evoke sacred narratives associated with those places (= “landmarks”); (e) refers to characters mentioned in narrative texts as living individuals

from the actual past allowing them to speak directly to the audience; (f) sometimes switches the



Among these various luminaries, Jude asserts, without elaboration, that his

opponents “have gone the way of Cain” (τῇ ὁδῷ τοῦ Κάϊν ἐπορεύθησαν [v. 11]).

As a symbolic figure, Cain would evoke the larger complex of values encoded in

LXX Genesis 4; these values are then reshaped to fit Jude’s memory framework and rhetorical situation. In Jude’s application, orthodox Christians (including Jude

himself) play the part of righteous Abel, whose sacrifice—in this case, a correct

christology and corresponding lifestyle—is acceptable to God. Cain, by contrast,

represents those who bring an irregular offering—in this case, a deviant doctrine

and corresponding behaviors—that is rejected by the Lord. Further, the opponents,

like Cain, respond to the opportunity to repent by threatening their “brothers” in

the church, a predictable course of action in view of their significant character

flaws, which in this application take the form of an arrogant spirit and (sexual?)

behaviors that Jude deems deviant (vv. 4, 7, 8, 16, 22).38 The normative dimension

of collective memory comes to the forefront in Jude’s appeal to the past: the letter

is peppered with statements that place the opponents outside the circle of orthodox

faith (vv. 3-4, 8, 12, 19) and with specific commands that Christian fellowship

should be denied to such individuals (v. 22). These direct decrees, undergirded by

a dense web of overlapping commemorative frames, clearly differentiate true

believers from those who are, like Cain, “marked out for judgment” (προγεγραμ-μένοι εἰς τοῦτο τὸ κρίμα [v. 4]).

A similar appropriation of the Cain and Abel complex undergirds the notori-

ously difficult chain of logic in 1 John 3. This chapter appears within a larger dis-

cussion of the nature and dangers of the “Antichrists” who have emerged within

the Johannine churches (1 John 2:18-26; 4:1-6; 2 John 7) and who are attempting

to “deceive” believers (1 John 2:26) by denying that “Jesus Christ has come in

flesh,” a creed that the author portrays as the hallmark of orthodox faith (2:22; 4:2;

5:1, 6-10; 2 John 7). In the Elder’s view, the behavior of these individuals, partic-

ularly their decision to abandon the fellowship of orthodox gatherings, is a flagrant

violation of Jesus’ command to “love one another as I have loved you” (John

13:34-35; 15:12; see 1 John 3:18-23; 4:7–5:5; 2 John 5-6).39

To emphasize this


uration of events from the Hebrew Bible and the life of Jesus (see pp. 55-64, 67-70, 74, 81-84; quo-

tation from 61). All these commemorative strategies are typical of collective memory’s refraction

of the past through contemporary social frameworks, making Jude a case study in the appropriation

of the past to serve present community needs.38 A similar commemorative strategy is evident in the evocation of Cain and Abel in1 Clem.

4.1-7. The implied author of this letter assumes that some members of the Corinthian church have

refused to follow the established bishops, creating a conflict that led to the removal of the elders

from office (44.3-5; 47.6; 57.1). New bishops soon took their place, an act that Clement views as a

prideful deviation from one’s proper station in life (14.1; 16.1; 21.6; 37.3–38.2; 41.1). To encouragerepentance, Clement keys the current situation to a broad array of OT narratives that demonstrate

how envy of God’s favor can lead to murder and disaster beginning with Cain and Abel (4 1 13)



point and, further, to absolve himself of any responsibility for the conflict—that

is, to demonstrate that his own sharp posture of non-negotiation is not also a vio-

lation of the love command—the Elder keys the circumstances of the Antichrist

crisis to the narrative of Cain and Abel.In 1 John 3:11-18, several mnemonic keys from the Cain and Abel complex

are evoked to transform the Elder’s debates with the Antichrists into a reenactment

of the first fratricide. Among the various commemorative strategies employed in

this passage, the Elder’s villainization of Cain and, thereby, of his opponents is

particularly impressive. Cain’s crime is magnified by specifying that he killed “his

brother,” with the repetition of ἔσφαξεν —a term that brings to mind the act of

slaughtering—emphasizing the violence of the deed (v. 12).40 Yet the Elder is

clearly less interested in the murder itself than in Cain’s motive, as indicated by

the rhetorical question, καὶ χάριν τίνος ἔσφαξεν αὐτόν; (“and why did he slaughter

him?” [v. 12]). Two related answers, both building on LXX Genesis 4, are

advanced. First, Cain killed his brother “because his own works were evil while

those of his brother were righteous” (v. 12), suggesting that the Antichrists’ hostility

toward the Elder and his allies is a product of hypocritical envy of a divine favor

they cannot enjoy.41 Second, following a logic typical of Johannine dualism, this

psychological motivation readily translates into ontological terms: the Antichrists,

like Cain, are “from the evil one” (ἐκ τοῦ πονηροῦ [v. 12]). This being the case,

God of course cannot accept their “offering,” an irregular christology that inher-

ently compromises the sacrificial aspect of Jesus’ death. Verse 15 completes the

picture by portraying the Antichrists’ departure from the community not only as a

violation of the love command but also as a hateful act of murder. In the process,

the Antichrists, like Cain, disclose their true identity as members of “the world”

who “abide in death” (vv. 14-15), while the Elder and (only) those loyal to him

may rest assured that they, like Abel, are “righteous” in God’s sight (v. 12).

As the two passages reviewed above indicate, Cain and Abel could readily


munity followed a period of hostile conflict. See, e.g., Raymond E. Brown, The Epistles of John:Translated, with Introduction, Notes, and Commentary (AB 30; Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1982)

338-39, 366-67; John Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John (SacPag 18; Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press,

2002) 88-93, 203-4; David K. Rensberger, 1 John, 2 John, 3 John (Abingdon New Testament Com-

mentaries; Nashville: Abingdon, 1997) 78-79; Stephen Smalley, 1, 2, 3 John (rev. ed.; WBC 51;

Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2007) 96-99. In my view, the situation was considerably more nuanced,

but in any case it seems clear that a significant doctrinal dispute had created an identity crisis in the

Johannine churches that the three letters sought to resolve (see Tom Thatcher,Why John Wrote a

Gospel: Jesus–Memory–History [Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007] 61-99).40 See also Judith M. Lieu, I, II & III John: A Commentary (NTL; Louisville: Westminster

John Knox, 2008) 143-44; Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 233; Smalley 1, 2, 3 John, 175. Lieu asserts—

and I would affirm her reading entirely—that the Elder has already evoked the image of Cain asearly as 1 John 3:8 by referring to the devil as one who sinned “from the beginning,” an allusion to

C i ’ t f d ( 134 35 144)



function as symbolic figures in early Christian intracommunal debates. In contexts

of division and conflicting claims to authority, allies could be postured as Abel,

the righteous one whose sacrifice (orthodoxy and orthopraxy) was acceptable to

God; opponents, by contrast, follow the course of Cain, implying that their rejectedofferings (heterodox views and practices) are a product of impure motives. Further,

because the LXX had portrayed Abel as essentially innocent of any wrongdoing,

the opponents could be made to bear the full brunt of blame for community con-

flicts. In the process, collective memory fulfilled the normative function of both

defining and maintaining the boundaries of group identity.

IV. Cain, Abel, and “The Use of the Old Testament in the New”

Returning to the guiding question of this discussion, one may say that the NT

authors were drawn to the LXX reading of the story of Cain and Abel because ele-

ments of that narrative could be readily keyed to the dynamics of situations where

Christian identity was at risk. The evocation of these figures allowed Christian

authors to posture themselves and their doctrinal positions as acceptable to God

while portraying other claims as inherently unrighteous. In the process, the author’s

group was placed in a position of moral superiority to the oppressor/detractor, pro-

viding the emotional and psychological resources needed to maintain group cohe-sion in the face of external pressure and internal division. Overall, the LXX reading

of Cain and Abel was sufficiently similar to early Christian experience to allow

for easy keying between sacred past and uncertain present, sufficiently plastic to

morph into a variety of specific applications, and sufficiently normative to serve

the rhetorical purposes of the NT authors.

Looking beyond the specific case of Cain and Abel, what potential does social

memory theory hold for understanding the many and complex ways in which NT

authors utilized the sacred Scriptures of Israel in service of their own rhetorical

purposes? Three methodological considerations will be noted here in closing.First, social memory theory strongly supports the emerging reorientation in

understandings of the relationship between OT “citations” and the NT contexts in

which they are embedded. As noted earlier, research on “the use of the Old Testa-

ment in the New” has traditionally examined the relationships between documents,

considering the various ways in which NT authors cited, revised, and reinterpreted

passages from the LXX or other ancient manuscripts. But the very notion of a

“citation” reflects a typographical mentality that seems inadequate in light of newer

understandings of early Christian media culture. When NT authors refer to events

and characters that are mentioned in the OT, it seems most likely that they are

drawing on the Jewish and/or Christian collective memory of the perceived actual




with these landmark figures and narratives. Of course, the sacred texts of Israel

informed, and were often foundational to, these memories, yet it is the memories

themselves, not the texts on which they are based, that are “cited” for the audi-

ence’s consideration.42 In the media culture of early Christianity, the LXX andother sacred documents functioned as “hot memory,” open and fluid representa-

tions of the past that were continually reconfigured to fit the needs of the present

audience.43 Further, as hot memory, these texts functioned not only as illustrations

of theological concepts or analogies to present circumstances, but rather as scripts

for action and parameters for Christian identity, past and present melting into a

continuous and conglomerate image that defined and prescribed normative thought

and behavior.

Second, social memory theory calls for a reconceptualization of the herme-

neutics of early Christian appeals to the past. Traditionally, the complicated set of

interpretive moves that underlie the appropriation of sacred texts by authors such

as Matthew and John the Revelator has been labeled “typological.” To take but

one prominent example relevant to the present study, Richard Bauckham explains

that “Jude applies Scripture to the last days not only as prophecy, but also as typol-

ogy, in which the events of redemptive history are seen to foreshadow the escha-

tological events.” Following this logic, Jude typically makes an assertion about

his opponents and then follows it with citations of a number of sacred texts; the

juxtaposition of assertion and Scripture identifies the false teachers “as those to

whom the type or prophecy applies.”44 Similarly, studies that emphasize the

sociorhetorical dynamics of the NT writings sometimes portray the use of the OT

by NT authors as instances of “synkrisis or comparison.” This model informs, for

example, Ben Witherington’s analysis of Jude: “the contemporary false teachers

are likened to various ancient prototypes of such folks, both human and angelic,

and their fate is likened to the fate of such misbehaves.” “Operating out of an apoc-

alyptic and eschatological worldview,” Jude understands that the “ancient Scrip-

tures are not only relevant to what was happening in his own day but were coming

to pass and to fulfillment in his own day.”45

Both sets of approaches noted hereunderstand the relationship between sacred text and NT citation in analogical

terms, as indicated by the use of the words “type,” “foreshadow,” “prototype,”

“prophecy,” “comparison,” “likened,” and “fulfillment” in the quotations above—


42 See Esler, “Collective Memory,” 158-61, 167-68.43 The term “hot memory” and its connotations are borrowed from Werner Kelber; see espe-

cially “The Works of Memory: Christian Origins and Mnemohistory,” in Memory, Tradition, and

Text (ed. Kirk and Thatcher), 221-48, esp. 228-29, 232.

44 Bauckham, Jude, 4-5.45 Ben Witherington III, Letters and Homilies for Jewish Christians: A Socio-Rhetorical Com-

H b J d J d (D G IL IVP A d i 2007) 576 605 S



something happened in the ancient past that somehow corresponds to, and thus

explains or illustrates, a present circumstance. Within this hermeneutical frame-

work, the NT author sees some connection between the current situation and a pas-

sage of Scripture and appeals to the authority of the sacred text to persuade theaudience to think and/or act in a particular way.

This approach is essentially correct as far as it goes, but memory theory would

argue that it does not go far enough. Schwartz stresses that “‘keying’ is more than

a new word for analogical thinking, more than a way individuals mentally organize

their social experience. . . . Keying transforms memory into a cultural system

because it matches publicly accessible . . . models of the past to the experiences of

the present.”46 Put another way, memory operates not on the principles of analogy

or typology but rather on the principle of reenactment. To stay with the case of

Jude: when Jude states that his opponents have “gone the way of Cain,” “poured

themselves out in the error of Balaam,” and “perished in Korah’s rebellion,” he is

not simply drawing an analogy between the present situation and the texts of Gen-

esis and Numbers. Jude is, rather, scripting the present situation in terms of the

dense web of values and beliefs that were tied to these ancient individuals in Jewish

and Christian collective memory. In the process, Jude and those loyal to him

become righteous Abel and Moses, while the opponents become Cain, Korah, and

Balaam in a drama with inevitable outcomes and clear moral implications. “Thus,

the story from Jewish scriptural tradition is completely interwoven with that of

this Christian community,” a fact that stresses the need to understand “typology”

not simply in terms of the relationships between texts but also in terms of the social

circumstances in which the connections between prophecy and fulfillment are

established.47 Stated more positively, social memory theory may be helpful for

future considerations of the workings of early Christian typological hermeneutics.

Third and finally, social memory theory calls for a more precise formulation

of the rhetorical function of appeals to the past. References to events, places, and

characters drawn from the great tradition of ancient Jewish culture are more than

rhetorical tropes; they are, rather, calculated evocations of a normative past thatwas foundational to Jewish and Christian identity. Thus, when the author of

Hebrews portrays Jesus as Melchizedek or casts Abraham as the archetypal Chris-

tian, he is “reconstruct[ing] the Israelite past in order to establish and maintain a

particular identity for the Christ movement in the present that also possesses a tra-

jectory trailing into the future.”48 Evocations of the past, in other words, both struc-

ture present experience and chart a course for the future, all the while assuming

that group identity is predicated on historical continuity.


46 Schwartz, Forge of National Memory, 226; see also idem, Post-Heroic Era, xi.47 W bb “U f ‘St ’” 84



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