Sheffield Reader or Sheffield T&T

Wilson Hines

Yesterday I spent some time with my Logos sales guy buying books.  I was "flying blind" because I was away from home where I would've had Internet and the coffee shop I stopped in didn't have WIFI (#FAIL), and lastly because I had to be on the phone .  

So, when I mentioned I wanted the Sheffield Reader, he mentioned the T&T Clark Sheffield collection.  There was a very tasty sale on the Clark set.  I already had several tabs loaded when I shut my MacBook Pro down, so if I ran into the whole WIFI problem, I could at least see the ones I was interested in buying.  But, upon reading the basic intro to the "Reader" and then letting him read the intro to the "Clark" set, it seemed to me that the Clark set was very pastoral in nature, while the Reader set was rather academic in nature (what I am looking for).  

The deal he offered me was quite good and if I need to call back Monday and get the Clark I will do it without hesitation, but I wanted to have a conversation in the forums and pull on some of your ideas and experience.  I have already purchased the Reader.  The question is as follows:  From an academic perspective, is the Clark set worth the the money - well, keep in mind it's a "deal" and it's much less than what's advertised.  So, is the Clark set "worth it" academically - yeah, that's probably the best way to put it.  

Rosie you buy everything...do you have both of these sets?

Rosie Perera

Hi Wilson,

Whew! You're lucky I noticed this personal note to me. I've been overwhelmed by the number of posts lately and have not been able to read every single one, but the subject line of this one jumped out at me as interesting. I do have both of these sets, and I value anything published by Sheffield / T&T Clark. They are a good scholarly publishing house. I have both of these sets tagged as ScholMon (my tag for scholarly monographs on biblical texts). I would venture to guess, knowing the kind of deal I got on this which is probably the same as your sales rep is offering you, that it's worth the money from an academic perspective. Even though these volumes are probably a bit more accessible than the Sheffield Reader volumes (which themselves are not even as scholarly as the LHB/OTS [JSOT Supplement] volumes), there's still tons of good info that academics would find useful in them. Here's a brief excerpt from the volume on Jude & 2 Peter, to give you an idea of the level of writing (citations are inline in this as opposed to footnoted in the Sheffield Reader):

Were the Opponents in Either Letter ‘Gnostics’?

Another issue that would benefit from clarification is the question of whether the opponents in either letter were ‘Gnostics’. This hypothesis has been advanced in respect of both letters: of Jude’s opponents by Sidebottom (1967: 69, 79) and of 2 Peter’s by Käsemann (1964). Matters of dating and content tell against this hypothesis. The teachers in both cases may well have been libertines or antinomians, and have questioned ethics as well as eschatology, but we can hardly now call them Gnostics, given what we know about Gnosticism.

Gnosticism was a second-century complex of religions which taught an anthropological pessimism supported by a mythological cosmogony (for an introduction see Rudolph 1983). Gnostics debased the value of human life and sought to compensate for what they saw as its irrelevance by suggesting that the human condition had arisen through rebellion among the aeons, as a result of which fallen light particles had become imprisoned in human bodies. Cosmological and anthropological dualism lay at the heart of Gnosticism. The Gnostic’s aim was to acquire gnosis (knowledge) which would enable his soul to return to the heavenly world after death. An essential part of this gnosis was the need to circumvent the heavenly warders who tried to stop the soul from making its ascension. Gnostic pessimism about the value of human life issued in two contrasting attitudes: there was both an ascetic and a libertine wing. Ascetics mortified the flesh, while libertines indulged it.

Those who believe that the opponents in Jude and 2 Peter were Gnostics argue that they were libertine Gnostics who gave vent to their passions under the belief that how you used your body when on earth mattered little when compared with the soul’s heavenly destiny at death. The dating of Gnostic literature seriously compromises the suggestion that the opponents in either letter were ‘Gnostics’. The Gnostic library which turned up in Nag Hammadi (Egypt) just after the Second World War (translation edited by Robinson 1988) contains documents that most scholars would not date before about 150 ce. Even if we allow that Gnosticism must have arisen over a period of time and that it had antecedents, not least in Jewish and Christian literature, we should beware of supposing that the full gamut of Gnostic ideas was known in the first century ce. The general consensus regarding the Fourth Gospel, which was for a long time felt to have been influenced by Gnostic ideas, is now that it represents a step towards Gnosticism and that the background of its christology lies in Jewish apocalyptic and not in the Gnostic Redeemer Myth.

We have to turn to second century literature to find more obvious steps towards Gnosticism. The Ascension of Isaiah, which was written in Syria perhaps between 112–138 ce, uses ideas that Gnostics would later take up, including the words of the Demiurge ‘I alone am’ (4.6) but significantly in a different way (on this text see Knight 1995). The Ascension of Isaiah lacks the thoroughgoing cosmic dualism of the Gnostic literature and it firmly excludes the demon Beliar from the heavens so that God had no rival there. The Ascension of Isaiah seems more obviously ‘Gnosticizing’ than the Fourth Gospel with its account of the Saviour’s descent (chs. 10 and 11) and notion of the heavenly warders (10.7–31). To speak, as we must do, of differences between this apocalypse and Gnosticism confirms that first-century literature like Jude and 2 Peter ought to be distinguished from Gnosticism as well. Neither letter reveals a cosmological dualism nor any cosmogonic interest which were essential ingredients of Gnosticism. As was noted, Neyrey has now in any event proposed the much more convincing thesis that the opponents in 2 Peter, far from being Gnostics, had some kind of contact with Epicureanism. The ‘Gnostic’ hypothesis would not now perhaps claim many supporters.

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For comparison, here's an excerpt from the Sheffield Reader volume on the Johannine Writings:

The Johannine discourses are a unique feature of the Fourth Gospel, but they include elements which have a close connection with the Synoptic sayings. These are not sufficiently numerous to warrant the suggestion that John had a discourse-source, comparable to the sayings-source Q.¹ If we have to suppose that the discourses are drawn from a previous source, it is better to stick to Bultmann’s

Offenbarungsreden-Quelle, and to assume that the evangelist has made use of items from the sayings tradition in reshaping the source as utterances of Jesus. But this would give to the sayings a very subordinate place in the composition of the discourses as a whole. In fact, though they are few in number, they occupy a crucial place in the construction of the discourses. For this reason it is much more likely that there never was a written source for the discourses. They are the free composition of the evangelist, building upon a careful selection of traditional sayings of Jesus. But although this means that the sayings tradition is the only source of the discourses in the strict sense, the meaning and purpose of the discourses are not dictated by the sayings, but relate closely to the conditions of Johannine Christianity at the time when the evangelist is writing, probably late in the first century. It may be said that John uses the sayings simply as a jumping-off place for what he really wants to say, in much the same way as many preachers use (or mis-use) a text of Scripture. But John uses them much more purposefully than that. It is part of his intention in writing a Gospel at all to uphold the claim that Johannine Christianity is directly related to Jesus himself. Thus the characteristic Johannine doctrines must be seen to be implied by the words of Jesus. This must be shown, in spite of the fact that the sayings tradition is extremely poor in christological material. So what John does is to select a saying in which he can perceive a principle suitable to his purpose. He draws out the principle in the typical cut and thrust of the argument of the discourses, and so leads up to his desired christological conclusion.

The point may be illustrated from Jn 8:28–29: ‘When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he, and that I do nothing on my own authority but speak thus as the Father taught me. And he who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what is pleasing to him.’

This is the climax of a very long and complex argument about the true identity of Jesus. The theme was enunciated in the parable of the apprenticed son in 5:19,² after a carefully prepared introductory narrative and transitional dialogue in 5:1–18. The parable states that a son can do nothing on his own authority, but depends upon his father’s instructions. If the parable is authentic, it would admirably suit Jesus’ ironic style of self-defence, which can be seen so often in the Synoptic Gospels. Just as he defends his slackness about fasting by means of the parable of the bridegroom in Mk 2:18–19, so with this parable he defends his bringing of the gospel to the common people by pointing out that he is only copying the practice of ‘your Father who is in heaven, for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust’ (Mt. 5:45). From this parable John has deduced the principle of Jesus’ exact conformity to the will of God. He refers to it with reference to judgement in 5:30. He picks it up again with regard to teaching in 7:16–17. In 8:12–20 he shows that this conformity to the will of God is witness to Jesus’ status as Son of the Father. In the following verse there is a dark hint that this will become plain only in the cross (8:21). In 8:25 Jesus is directly challenged concerning his identity. Then comes the climax in 8:28, which not only picks up the phrases of 5:19, 30 and 7:16–17, but relates the substance of the claim to the revelatory character of the cross, referring back to the lifting up of the Son of Man which had previously been enunciated in 3:14. But as that also depends upon the sayings tradition, it is fair to say that not only the opening of this great christological dispute comes from the tradition (5:19), but also the conclusion (8:28, based on 3:14 and 5:19, etc.). The conclusion is that Jesus is God’s agent, and as such he has a special relationship with God, which corresponds with the father/son relationship commonly employed in statements about Jesus. Thus the Christian claim that Jesus is the Son of God is here supported by an explanation of one aspect of the father/son relationship, based on a saying from the tradition from which the principle can be deduced.

It is not without significance that the saying in this case is unknown from the Synoptic Gospels. It has been suggested that a variant of the parable of the apprenticed son lies behind Mt. 11:27 = Lk. 10:22.³ If so, we must think of more than one channel of tradition, and the saying has the warrant of double attestation. This also strengthens the contention that John had access to traditions comparable to those used by the Synoptic writers, but not identical with them. John may have known and used one or more of the Synoptic Gospels. But he was not solely dependent upon them for his historical tradition.

The vexed question of the relationship between John and the synoptics is not our concern here. The point at issue is the place of traditional material in the composition of the discourses. What I want to emphasize is that recognition of this is essential to a correct understanding of the discourses themselves. This has already been indicated in connection with the unwieldy composition of ch. 5, and its continuation in 7:16–8:29. This will now be applied to the discourse with Nicodemus (ch. 3), the discourse on the bread of life (ch. 6), and the discourse on slave and son (8:31–58). The last case includes a new assessment of the nature of the underlying tradition which leads to a much more satisfactory analysis of the discourse than has previously been possible.