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Akiva Cohen: Matthew and the Mishnah (Tübingen: Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, 2. Reihe 418, 2016), pp. xix + 636. €119.

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Akiva Cohen: Matthew and the Mishnah (Tübingen: Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, 2. Reihe 418, 2016), pp. xix + 636. €119.

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  14 September 2018

Jan Dochhorn*
Affiliation:
Durham University, Abbey House, Palace Green, Durham DH1 3RSjan.dochhorn@durham.ac.uk
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Abstract

Type
Book Review
Copyright
Copyright © Cambridge University Press 2018 

The aim of this book is not to shed light upon Matthew or special Matthean pericopes from the Mishnah or the other way round. It tackles a more general research question: how did Matthew, on the one hand, and the Mishnah on the other – two sources representing Jewish groups that postdate the Second Temple era – react to the destruction of the temple in Jerushalem, the cultic and religious centre of ancient Judaism? The author's answer to this question is somewhat predictable (which is not a disadvantage): Matthew identified the new centre of Israel’s religion in the death and resurrection of Jesus, the Mishnah in a narrative cosmos of remembrance pertaining, among other things, to the temple cult (cf. pp. 491–531).

Not every researcher will share Cohen's view that the Gospel of Matthew primarily represents a Jewish group; however, it is not atypical in recent research, and he is careful to situate his own thesis within the recent debate, demonstrating familiarity with far more than merely the English literature (pp. 32–222). He dismisses a dating of Matthew before 70 (Hagner) and tends to share Sim’s view, who places Matthew at the beginning of the second century (pp. 40–59). Contra Bauckham, who casts doubt upon the common view that the Gospels were adressed to special communities and regards them as directed to a catholic audience, Cohen defends the concept of a distinct Matthean group as the original context of the Gospel of Matthew (pp. 89–99). He labels this community ‘the Mattheans’ and defines them as a Pharisaic faction that had begun to separate itself from mainstream Pharisaism because of its distinctive view that Yeshua ben David was the decisive event of the history of Israel. Although later absorbed into mainstream gentile Christianity, the Mattheans were originally a specific variety of Judaism – not Jewish Christianism (a term which would presuppose Christianity as genus and Judaism as species) (pp. 100–23).

Concerning the Mishnah, Cohen follows new tendencies in research to relativise the influence of the rabbinic movement in early Judaism and to separate it more clearly from Pharisaism and the synagogues than does the traditional view. The history of its legal traditions is discussed, as well as its history of redaction, but Cohen is mainly interested in the ideology of its final redaction which he – following the opinio communis – associates with Jehuda Ha-Nasi (cf. pp. 328–76).

Among the strengths of this book are the author’s detailed discussions of recent research debates; what sometimes comes up short is his own view. This pertains, for example, to the ten Matthean passages he analyses (pp. 223–316), including the pericope about the three temptations of Jesus (Matt 4:1–11) where the temple is mentioned in the second temptation (Matt 4:6). Here he follows without any debate the majority view that Matthew presents the original order of events (Luke has the temple scene as the last temptation: Luke 4:9–13) (cf. p. 227). What about the option that Matthew has changed the sequence of temptations? Claiming Matthew to be the more traditional author in this case would possibly imply that he did not have the temptation associated with the temple very much in his focus but merely took it over.

I would also have liked to read more about why Cohen’s Mattheans are necessarily Pharisees. Where does the author/redactor of the Gospel (let us call him ‘Matthew’) label himself or something like his group as Pharisees? Perhaps he regards himself as a scribe (cf. Matt 13:52; 23:34), but is a scribe necessarily a Pharisee?

Research tends to ascribe to ‘Matthew’ quite specific historical contexts, sometimes locating him in regions which are not well known to have been inhabited by Christians in antiquity (e.g. Galilee; cf. the discussion on pp. 83–6), sometimes contextualising him in a ‘community’ marked by a fairly distinct theological profile and, nowadays, increasingly, labelling him as ‘Jewish’ rather than ‘Christian’. Yet, are these theories probable with regard to what would soon become the standard Gospel of diverse Jesus believers all over the world? Among its first readers may have been, as Cohen himself states (p. 57), Ignatius, who already differentiates Ἰουδαισμός and Χριστιανισμός (Mg 10:3; Phld 6:1); no miracle, I would assume – already Paul could take over an extra muros perspective pertaining to a non-Jesus-believing Jewish majority (1 Thess 2:14–16). Perhaps there existed something like Christianity in antiquity, an identifiable international, quasi-ethnic entity, more separate from the Jewish mainstream than postmodernity allows (if it allows Judaism at all) and sometimes – astonishingly – prone to agree on something (e.g. reading the Gospel of Matthew)? I am not sure; I could be misled by some ancient texts (nothing of major relevance compared to the huge research debate). Wherever the Gospel of Matthew originated, it apparantly has taken over sources of different regional origins and displays an international perspective, at least at its very end. Should we label it a catholic Gospel?